#though i think any time they do something together its going to end up a good time for everyone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 1 year ago

Text

𝐍𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐅@#𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲!? | suguru getō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Next time you wanna do something nice for your boyfriend, how about making sure he doesn’t see the package – let alone OPEN it! – before you? Especially if it’s something with bunny ears…!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you and Geto are college sweethearts - implied that you and Geto are early 20s - lingerie + bunny outfit - oral (m! receiving) - anal fingering (f! receiving) - use of an anal toy; butt plug - backshots/doggy style + deep impact positions - impact play (spanking) - clitoral play - praise - finger sucking - cervix fucking - unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - pet names (angel, baby, bunny girl, little bunny, good girl, my love, princess, sweet baby, sweetie) - cameos: Utahime, Mei Mei, and Gojo - reader is very shy but is trying their best! - kind of freaky! Geto awakening, lmao - humor - mention of drool/spit and tears - will be proofread l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.2k (sigh..)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: based on this ask!! haven't done a suguru fic in a long while so ehh, why not? && tysm for 8.8k, my loves xoxo

“…”

Oh no.

“…Well,”

I have to be dreaming…

“Needless to say, I brought your package inside, Y/n.”

THERE’S NO WAY!!!

Being an introvert can have its trivial times; you should know that. Looking back on your life, you can’t seem to say you had the drive to stand out, an expertise you regret not putting effort into. You couldn’t do it; you’ve tried but to no avail! Going out of your comfort zone is too scary, shivering or freezing on the spot whenever you’re being spoken to or fumbling with words when trying to make a point. Man, it’s so embarrassing! It sucks — you’re a grown adult, and yet you can barely get through any gathering without anxiety rattling your bones.

Some are good at talking with others or are lucky enough to be naturally blessed with a social spirit. Some people like your boyfriend, for example.

Yes, you have a boyfriend.

Suguru Geto, your partner, wasn’t a complete extrovert. Honestly, he’s comfortable keeping to himself if he could choose. After meeting you, he preferred dates when you visit each other’s dormitories and enjoy each other’s company. However, compared to you, his people-pleasing skills outclassed yours unquestionably. Geto knew how to talk, drawing people in with his mellow tone and inviting aura. He was good at mingling and making everyone feel comfortable around him. You were a victim to it, lured in by his charm and soft ambiance.

He was terrific, a role model to you. How he would efficiently put himself out there while you stayed close in his shadow never failed to inspire you. The way he spoke, how he listened intently to others’ concerns, and his maturity seen as a dependable figure to lean on. It’s absurd to think that such a marvelous man fell in love with you and asked to court you.

You and Geto have dated since your junior year of college; what you once thought would be a tiny crush on one of the school’s notorious heartthrobs became your first and longest-running relationship! How did that happen!? You couldn’t tell; one moment, you two were paired up for an end-of-semester project, and he managed to have you relax and talk with him daily. The next thing you know, he’s asking you to live with him in his apartment the second you finish graduation. Now, you two have been a couple for nearly half a decade. It’s unbelievable to think about.

But even with how long you two have been together, there are moments where you feel as though you weren’t doing your part. Being in a relationship is such a hurdle for an awkward person, aka you, such as going stiff whenever old friends of Suguru pop up and greet him or him inviting you along to parties only for you to stay glued to a corner in silence. You felt as though you were…boring? Dull? Deadweight!? The list goes on, and the guilt never tires you out.

And Geto – God bless him – has repeatedly expressed and assured you that you didn’t have to feel as such. His alluring purple eyes and soothing voice vouch that he doesn’t mind standing in as your sponsor and speaking for you, and you are eternally grateful to the stars above for gracing a loving and understanding boyfriend your way. Nonetheless, the stress that churns your stomach doesn’t go away. He’s always been the one to voice for you, attend to you, and look out for you. Hell, even in the bedroom, he’s doing most of the work. Again, he’s never complained nor seems to ever will, but still!

He’s done so much for you, and you want to meet him at least halfway and make him feel appreciated. So, you took matters into your own hands and decided to do something special for your man!

Here was the plan: going out and buying stuff meant talking to people, and talking meant letting strangers know about your business; merely thinking about it had you trembling a storm. So yeah, nope. You went on the Internet and found sites catering to your search. You can’t say you were the type to wear anything risqué, especially in the bedroom. So, you dialed up your two best friends, Mei Mei and Shoko, to help you find stuff that they thought would look nice for you to wear.

Luckily, they came in clutch and found something for a beginner like you! It’s not something you’d wear in public—you’d rather die—but it’s a good start when implementing new things into your lifestyle. You added the item to your cart, purchased it, and waited silently for your package to arrive. To say you were anxious about this new step of adulthood was on the nail, but you beamed with glee once you got the notification that your bundle would be delivered today!

Before then, you decided to nap and wait for the item to be delivered to your apartment door. You woke up to that once you saw the notice on your phone, yawning your way out of the shared bedroom to retrieve it.

However, what you saw as you entered the living room stopped you dead in your tracks, and your eyes widened with absolute horror.

What you should have accounted for was that today was a Thursday, meaning Geto would usually come home from work on weekdays. So, while you were snoring in the comfort of your blanket, your boyfriend was the first to see a mysterious box with your name on it at his doorstep. And to add more salt to the wound, you caught him in the act unboxing the package and inspecting its contents, and you’re too shocked to fall on your knees at what he has in his hands.

Geto sat on the living room couch, the box perched on the coffee table opened with the wrappings decorating the brown table surface. His eyes find your figure to latch onto, but yours honed on what he was inspecting. In his right hand was a black lacy top meant to be worn around a chest—the other holding onto a headband with bunny ears of velvet material.

This is where we lay our current scene; astounded, you could only stand in place — like Geto — at the sight before you. And with every passing second, you wanted nothing but to explode into bits. Your boyfriend had found your package and opened it!

Of course, you’d be stammering your words! “W-Where did you get that!?” What a silly question; where else would he have gotten it, dumbass?

Nonetheless, the dark-haired man answers after a forced cough. “Well, umm, I saw it at the door coming from work. I brought it in and was going to let you know, but you were asleep, and I…didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Why did you open it if you knew it was mine??”

Geto raised his hands defensively, still holding onto the items. “I–I’m sorry! I thought it was something different, like the cute glass cups you liked and ordered last week. I figured I would set those up on your behalf. I had no idea it would be something…” Your feet suddenly felt heavy, watching your boyfriend scan the lace top. “Like this.”

Any attempt to fight the mini shakes of your knees was impractical, and your throat was going so dry that you were scared to swallow.

“This doesn’t seem like something you would buy; could someone have accidentally sent this with the wrong information?” He inquires with furrowed brows. “Better not be some fucked up prank or whatever.”

“N-No, it’s, I…” Fuck, this had to be the worst scenario to admit this. “….I did mean to buy it.”

Have you ever had those moments where people would look at you after saying something that you wish you hadn’t? You indeed hated those moments; they made you feel so scrutinized by the public judging you. And seeing your man’s eyes widen and his expression morphed his lips to a small “o” shape? Oh, you couldn’t breathe adequately.

“You bought,” your quivering lips worsen when his left wrist flicks with the bunny-eared headband. “This?”

Your hands come to your face, shielding yours from his as you silently squat down with the weight of your humiliation. The shakes rock your entire frame, and you can sense your tears forming. This officially was the worst day ever; out of all the dilemmas that could happen, why did it have to be the worst one of all?!? Your partner had found out about the out-of-the-norm purchase you made without you present to explain yourself first. Now he probably thinks he’s dating some freak into weird shit. Can this day get any worse!?!

You wanted to cry, hoping the floor beneath you would give way and ingest you out of this cold, cruel world. But alas, you’re still here and can hear the footsteps approaching your crouching state, and you jolt when Geto embraces you.

“Y/n,” God, why did he say your name like that? His tone was smooth like honey, and he rubbed your back as he brought you closer. “It’s okay, baby. I didn’t mean to judge you or anything; I was just curious, is all. Sorry, I opened your package without letting you know, okay?… Ahh, did I make my sweet angel cry?” Raven brows scrunched together at the view of you burrowing into his chest more. “Aww, Y/n, I’m sorry…”

Yes, you were indeed sniffling into his sweatshirt. Although, it’s not that he opened your stuff without your consent that upset you the most. You whine while moving your face, “I just…wanted to do something different.”

“Hmm?” Geto’s hand doesn’t stop rubbing your back, speaking to you in a low mode. “What’s the reason, sweetie?”

“Because, well,” you chewed the inside of your cheek as they warmed. “I just felt like I wasn’t…Like—sigh, you’ve done so much for me in this relationship, and I’m so lucky to have you as my boyfriend. But I feel like I don’t do my part as I should, you know?” Nothing is said from the other, so you continue. “I just–sniff–want you to know that I appreciate you and all you’ve done, although I didn’t know if my words would do me justice. So, I, uhh,” your thumbs find their way to fiddle with themselves. “I asked Shoko and Mei Mei for help and bought…..this to wear for you.”

Three seconds pass without saying anything, then six. At ten seconds, the silence suffocates you and probes your unease more and more.

However, his chest’s sudden rise and fall startles you, along with his pleasant laughter. “So that’s what this is all about, huh?” Your body’s rigid compared to his lively motion. “My angel was gonna doll up for me?”

“Yeah, and you ruined it!” You fuss, your cute teary face all hot and puffy as you complain. “I just wanted to do something special for you after I finally muster up the courage to go out of my comfort zone and do something nice and…well, sexy,” you cringed internally at the final word. Yet, it was true.

Geto hums through your explanation. “You’re always sexy to me.”

“That’s not the point!” He laughs at your remark, the sound filling you with warmth. “I–…I’m different compared to you. Whenever we’re out, you’re so much more social than me; I feel like I’m a burden or make it seem I need you to watch over me or something…And I know you’ve said you’re okay with it and don’t mind, but it’s….sniff–I don’t know, like I’m putting more on your plate when it’s more of a ‘me’ problem…”

Your eardrums pick up low chuckles. Then, like the Prince Charming he is, Geto uses his hand to bring your chin up. Your face warms up at his handsome face in your vicinity. “Baby, although I appreciate you going out your way to do something for me—believe me, I could jump over the moon right now—you don’t have to go outside what’s comfortable to you to impress me or anything.”

“But I—“

“I mean it; I really don’t mind that I have to be some voucher for you. It’s not a burden; that’s just who you are. And if that’s the case, you’re too cute as hell the way you are.” You didn’t see his small smile grow because your eyes bashfully averted away from his gaze. “Now, if you want to build your confidence, don’t be afraid to ask me for help, okay? No need to force yourself to change up for the sake of ‘appeasing’ me or feel as though you’re not fitting whatever bullshit mold of an appropriate partner you’re expected to be.”

“Suguru…”

“Y/n,” your name pierces your heart like an arrow as his hand prompts your face back to him; God, he’s so dreamy. “I like you no matter what. You’re my princess; your troubles are my troubles. I’d tell you long ago that you’re bothersome if it wasn’t. But you’re not, so don’t put too much weight on yourself. Promise not to stress yourself over this, okay?” He boops your nose, “Remember: communication is key, right?”

Once again, you’re reminded how lucky you are to have such a man like Suguru Geto to court you. So understanding and attentive to your feelings and wrapping you in his blanket of love constantly makes it hard not to fall in love all over again. Chewing your bottom lip doesn’t even help the heat of your cheeks creeping onto your ears.

“You’re right,” you almost melt under his lips as he kisses your forehead. “I promise.”

“Good girl,” your heart skips a beat. “But what are we gonna do with all this?” He points to the open package with his chin. “Now I feel kinda bad for having you buy this for me and ruining the special occasion.”

Wincing at the box, you remove yourself from Geto’s embrace to inspect the contents. “Honestly, looking at them in real time, I regret buying them. I’ll return them tomorrow or Monday, seeing I don’t necessarily need—”

“Woah, woah,” you stop in your tracks at your boyfriend’s exclamation. “Why are you returning them?”

Huh? “Well, I mean, there’s no need for them, no? It was meant to be a surprise.”

“Yeah, but you already spent so much money for my sake. Plus,” Geto picks up the bunny ear headband from the package. “If this is what you were gonna wear for me, then it would be kind of upsetting if I didn’t see you wear it at least once.”

Oh, God, no. “S–Suguru, it’s totally fine; I can just—“ Oh no, he’s looking at you with that face, his eyebrows slightly trenched with a minuscule sad glint in his expression. Your stomach was doing flips out of guilt and concern, and the formidable gets worse when he asks the following:

“Y/n,” you swallow spit thickly as the man dangles the headband around. “Would you please wear this tonight?”

The question nails you to the ground, frozen in place as it rings within your mind. You? Wearing this for tonight?! “N–No, I can’t!!”

“Why not? You bought it to be worn!”

“Yes, but t-that was before you looked through my package and didn’t give me the chance to try it on myself!” When you thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than before, the embarrassment of this predicament humbles you. “And thanks to you—“

“T-Thanks to me??”

“—I don’t wanna wear it anymore!!”

Geto raises his other hand in defense. “Okay, okay! Look, I’m sorry; it’s my bad. But, to be honest, I’m thrilled that you went out of your way to think of doing something for me out of nowhere, and as I’m looking at this outfit,” He glances at the rest of the materials in the box. “I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it.” You can’t tell if your heart is thumping from his words or because you’re about ten seconds away from combusting. “So…One night to test it out, yeah? And if you surely don’t like it, then you can ship it back tomorrow.”

He’s so good at that, using his charm and words to shade you into rational thought. You take a huge breath and exhale through stressed nostrils, and your wish to dig a hole and rot away increases.

Of course, you bought the items to treat your boyfriend for something out of the norm; that was the entire point of the plan! But what is the use of following a plan when you’ve let your guard down, and the element of surprise backfires in a way that you had foolishly unforeseen?! There’s no way you could put that stuff on you now that you’ve been exposed. Absolutely not!

“I think you’d look beautiful and hot in it…”

And yet, Geto’s words repeat like a broken record, each time making you as timid as the last. He wants to see you wear what you had bought, so eager to marvel at his partner adorning such risqué clothing that you don’t comprehend how you put said purchase in your cart! The thought of wearing such a thing in front of your man bubbles an excitement that is borderline frightening yet new; picturing his expressions and imagining his compliments is dangerous for your brain to form a headache.

But not as dangerous as the slight friction of your inner thighs pressing close to each other.

With a stare downcast and fidgeting thumbs, you ask, “…Just for tonight?”

And Geto assures you with a nod.

“Only for tonight.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Geto sat on the bed in silence, listening to the ticks of the bedroom clock on the wall as he waited patiently.

As you two entered the bedroom, the man found his place on the bed, a still figure in the dimly lit room. You, on the other hand, made a beeline straight towards the bathroom. “Wait here…D-Don’t peek inside!” You commanded him, your voice betraying a hint of shyness. He obeyed, settling on top of the comforter.

Minutes soon went to double digits; nervousness wasn’t something that usually struck Geto. But the more he sat on the bed and listened to your mutters behind the door–distancing the two–the more he couldn’t help but feel an itch to worry for you. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Y–Yes!” That didn’t sound convincing… “I’ll be out in just a second!”

“Okay…”

And so he waited for a minute. Which turned to two minutes…Three…..

Anticipation transitioned to unease, calling out to you once more. “Y/n?” No answer; not a good sign. The tall man gets up and strides to knock on the bathroom door. “Baby? Everything alright?” Nothing, even if he knocks on the white surface again.

CREAAAAK…!

But his frets are handled once he hears the sound of the door opening slowly. He steps back to make way for the person on the other side of the door, and lo and behold, you stand.

There are things in Geto’s life that never cease to amaze him—you being one of them. From the moment he saw you, he swore that in his life, there had never been something that looked so mesmerizing and captured his eye in an instant, and Gojo and Shoko are always sure to tease the guy for such a confession. And the time you reciprocated his feelings and accepted being his domestic other half, words could not describe the elation his poor heart couldn’t handle.

Right now, he is experiencing those same feelings when he’s with you. His expectations were blown out of the water once you entered the plane again.

Your face was the first thing he looked to, a sheepish yet cute expression that went with the adorable white bunny ear headband you adorned at the top of your head. Your casual attire had been withdrawn to the bathroom tiles, substituted with the outfit you had been fussing about until now. Your chest harbored a black lacy negligee with intricate designs that had Geto’s purple eyes dance and trace around; the faint drapes of the gown cascaded down to your upper thighs, yet your underwear could still be seen. It matched the lacy black thong that made your boyfriend gulp thickly at how gorgeous your hips looked–not to mention the tiny bow at the top center. And to complete the look, black stockings come up your knees.

“…”

There is silence between you and him. The only sound you can use to distract yourself is the beat of your heart.

“…”

But the longer you wait for a response, the louder the rhythm.

“…”

The lack of his voice was killing you – eating you alive – and you’re sure that you’re bound to faint if this kept going. Did I wear it wrong? Do I look weird?! Oh God, please say some—

“Y/n”

You squeaked. “Y-Yes?”

“Can you please,” Geto takes a few steps closer, enough for his hands to come around your waist and pull you in. You almost choke on the air. “Remind me to thank Mei Mei and Shoko first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Wh–What the—What does that mean—?”

“You look amazing.” Three simple words have you still. “Like, seriously. Hold on, let me get a good look at you.” He leans around to look at the details of your sides, and your brain short circuits when he moves behind you and lifts the negligee to see the rear of your panties. What is happening… “Holy shit, this suits you so well.”

“Re…Really?”

“Really.” You can see the sincerity in his gaze as he surveys every physical thing about you. “I’m so tempted to grab my phone to take a picture.”

“Oh my God, please don’t!!” Your frightened hands grab his sweatshirt with a vigorous grip, contrasting the trembling owner. “Don’t take a picture, please!!”

“I won’t, I won’t!” the dark-haired partner assures you through a fit of laughter, his warm, slender hands finding your fists and pounding him. Again, you are frozen stiff when he kisses your temple. “Besides, I prefer not sharing something as beautiful with anyone else.”

You don’t know how many compliments you can take before spiraling into a puddle. “You really do like it.”

“I love it,” another kiss to your cheek while his hands now find purchase on your waist. Oxygen suddenly feels foreign when you’re so close to him to pick up the cologne on his clothes. “It looks so much better now that you’re wearing it. You really know how to spoil me, huh, angel.”

Was it him being spoiled right now or you? How he spoke to you had your heart racing uncontrollably since you left the bathroom. You’ve been a complete nervous wreck from the moment your friends probed you to buy this outfit up until now, and now you can honestly feel that you’re feeling a sense of glee wearing it because your boyfriend likes it so much. Regrets no longer linger in your bones, goosebumps calm down on your skin, and you hum as you return the embrace.

That is…until you feel something pressed against you. Something….hard.

Curiosity sprinkles your pretty little head until it snaps and your hips sway to experiment. A subtle jolt rocks Geto—confirming your hypothesis.

“Su..Suguru…” You don’t know why, but the following words felt prohibited to leave your lips. “Is that—“

“Hnnm…Sorry,” he purrs abjectly. “Guess I got a little too excited.” He lifts his head from your shoulder to look at you, and your stomach churns at the sight of his stare, holding a misty, lustful glint. You don’t even mention his hands silently moving to cup your ass. “Is that too much, baby?”

Violet eyes latched with yours make you shiver, suppressing a gasp when he throws a slick rut to grind the tent of his dark sweatpants on you. “N–No!” You squeaked, feeling small when his smile got broader.

“So sweet like always,” a chaste, gentle kiss to your lips feels like clouds. He then steps back out of your arms, pulling down his sweats to reveal the erection contained by the boxer briefs. Geto sits on the edge of the bed and tilts his head. “So, will my sweet bunny girl care for me tonight?” Seeing you gawk at him, he stifles a chuckle, and it takes a good mental slap to bring you back to reality. A few seconds pass, and you finally build up the courage to walk forward and crouch between his spread legs.

Mini prayers replay in your brain as your hand hesitantly touches the clothed shaft, the firmness of it getting stiffer and stiffer as your fingers touch thoroughly. When you’re ready, you bring the hem of his underwear down, welcoming his cock to the open air for it to intimidate you with its girth. Precum trails from the urethra, traveling down from the corona, foreskin, and underside. God, it’s been a while since you were up close and personal with this thing; its sheer size is enough to reconsider the regret you threw out minutes ago. Too late now, though.

Come on, Y/n, you use your inner thoughts to motivate you. You’re doing this for Suguru; don’t chicken out now! So, you bring your lips to meet the head of his cock, earning a hum from the man above. Blowjobs have never been your forte; again, it’s been a while since you’ve had his cock near anything outside of your lower regions. But today was different as you used your tongue to lick the lip of the cockhead, the salty flavor of his fluid teasing your tastebuds. And with the sounds of him whimpering, you begin to remember the routine as the seconds go. Your mouth takes in his tip with hollowed cheeks, and your hands grasp around the shaft before you glide up and down.

“Hahhhh, yes, sweetie,” Geto soothed, biting his lip at the display of you pleasing him with your plump lips. “Just like that…Nnngh…!” His words fuel more confidence in your motion, using this to move to the next step and take in as much of his shaft as you can. You don’t go all the way to the hilt–a task that you’re afraid will have you choking– but once you reach halfway, your head starts to bob up and down at a gradual pace. Black brows furrow at the movement; fuck, you felt so good for him. So nice and warm on his dick; he wouldn’t mind having his whole evening dedicated to this. “Fuck, my love, loosen your jaw for me…Mmmm, good girl, that’s it. Keep sucking like that.”

It’s not before long that you find the groove; albeit sucking on Geto amateurishly, he places a hand on your head, which you can only assume is that you’re doing a decent job. Saliva coats the limb busying your oral cavity, mixing with the excess come that escapes and spreads with your lips going to and fro. Your tongue goes on to flick and lap on his tip some more, evoking the hottest moans you’ve ever heard from him. And while you stroke his member, your free hand finds his scrotum and massages the pair in unison, a buck of his hips as your thumb presses down on the testicles with a curl. Your bobbing becomes frequent, a mediocre cadence that has your partner throw his head back. The veins scraping along the upper walls of your mouth are too erotic for your mind to comprehend

“Shiiiit, I can’t—Nnnmm!” He hisses before he cups your wet cheeks. “You’re doing so good, princess.”

Your eyes open and peer to the person talking above you. With a soft ‘pop,’ you release his length before placing sloppy kisses and licks. “Yew fink shoow?” You speak with a mouthful of his dick to his frenulum, humoring the dark-haired man.

“Yes, little bunny,” he teases, and you can sense the throbs between your legs getting worse after referring to you with that title. “Wait, I just remembered something…Hold on, lie on the bed for me.”

You’re gently pushed off him as Geto stands up from the bed, confused. You take your place atop the bed, and he grabs something from his sweatpants and heads into the bathroom. The sound of running water from the sink fills the silence before it’s shut off. He then returns to the bedroom holding a bottle of lube you’re familiar with in one hand, and the other with a wet, metal…fluffy…looks like a kind of—

Eyes shoot wide open when you finally register what he’s holding, and the anxiety hits you like a punch to haunt you. “Wh–W-Where did y-you get that?!”

“I saw that you left this in the box before dressing up,” no, you didn’t forget a damn thing. You deliberately avoided the very item that Geto was holding because looking at it was embarrassing enough; it would be horrifying to have this in the same room as you now! Between his thumb and forefinger was a metal butt plug–a small one, nothing too major–with what appeared to be a white fluff ball at the end. It’s meant to be worn with what you wore, but these bunny ears already trampled your dignity. Adding an anal toy to the frey might as well have you sign up for assisted suicide! “I figured we needed it to complete the look.”

“N-No! No, no, no, absolutely not!” Rejections fly out of your system. “That’s too much!”

Geto blinks. “You think so? It’s pretty small from what I’ve seen.”

You’ve seen these before!?!? “Even then, I don’t wanna—“

“Didn’t you see this with the set before you bought it?”

You almost choked on your tongue. “W-Well…Y-Yes, but,” your thumbs find themselves fidgeting, anything to distract the humiliation that overshadows your nervous state. “That doesn’t mean I wanted to…wear it.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s—” embarrassing as hell! A bunny tail as a butt plug!? Just kill me!! “—It’s…..It’ll look weird on me.”

Oh, how you didn’t know how much of a switch that flipped for Geto, the other quietly thought to himself before speaking again. “Y/n,” you perked at the mention of your name. “Turn around for me.” Chewing on your lips, you shook your head—you knew what he was doing. “C’mon, now, I thought you were my sweet girl.” You flatten your lips when he comes close to squeeze your cheeks. “Please? Wear this for me, my little bunny?”

Oh, for God’s sake, this night was getting more challenging to get through with the hour. Inner dialogue can’t even bring you to a consensus, as your conscience is getting in the way of coming to a decision. On the one hand, you feel as though you’re venturing out of your comfort zone enough, wearing this flustering nightgown and these damn bunny ears. Yet, at the same time, this isn’t about you; this is all meant to be for your partner, something entirely out of the norm to make him feel special. And you being reluctant to accept his wishes is just pushing you back to square one and defeating the purpose of this entire dilemma, right?

Your hands find your face to shield, releasing a long sigh that should have stretched to your final days. Nonetheless, you slump your arms down in defeat, and a short nod is given: “.......okay.”

Without being told again, you feebly follow Geto’s request and turn around. Your lower half is the only thing in his line of sight. Your lips can’t stop quivering in such a position, and breathing becomes arduous once you feel your boyfriend’s weight dent the mattress. You jolt when his hand comes to the top of your laced thong, bringing the material down to expose the bare skin of your ass to him. Damn it! A pillow within your proximity is brought to your face, using it to hide yourself from the world.

However, “Aww, don’t be so shy on me, baby,” Slender fingers faintly brush from your spine down to the very crevice of your bottom, making your body shudder. “Shouldn’t be hiding that pretty face from me.” The sound of your gasp, when his lubed fingers teeter around your rear entrance, ignites a flame, and now he has a thirst he’s itching to indulge with. “Shhhh, breathe, my love. Gonna go real nice and slow for you, okay?”

The pillow muffles your moans as Geto begins to push one finger inside your puckered hole slightly. The stretch of the digit is a pain you have never experienced, making you whimper like a poor babe. Your boyfriend coaxes you through it, adding more lube to ease your ass as his finger goes back and forth to prepare you. Adding another finger causes you to shake your head, and your entrance accommodates the insertions, whether you like it or not.

A full minute or more passes where your ass is played with, and Geto smoothes you with a rub of your buttcheeks as he removes his digits out of your lubed hole. “Now, time to test this out…” A sudden chill has your arch, and the cold metal of the butt plug has you clamping involuntarily, yet the raven-haired partner reminds you to relax your body while he pushes the toy inside you. It doesn’t invade with the snap of the finger; thirty seconds in, and your butthole is slowly but surely adapting to the alien plaything. And before you know it, you feel the whole thing finally be swallowed into your rear walls; you grip the pillow as your mouth releases silent cries.

“Haaah…I-Is it in?” You lifted your head to inquire.

“Yes, angel,” he playfully smacks your ass, and you jerk at the unexpected contact. “Damn, now you look all cute and sexy with this on.” Geto then shifts to stand on his knees before maneuvering above you, removing the pillow from beneath you so you can’t hide yourself from him any longer. And more trembles crawl all over your body when you feel his solid cock create friction on the rift of your ass. “Lift your butt a bit for me,” your hips follow his hands, guiding you upward until you meet his pelvis. “Good girl…Gonna start putting it inside, okay?”

You nod leisurely, grabbing the comforter beneath you as Geto pulls the thong to the side. It’s no surprise to see that your cunt is covered in your slick, the tip of his member queued to kiss your labia. The lascivious man hisses at the sensation, anticipation climbing up as he pushes himself unhurriedly. The same goes for you, your mouth agape with quieted shrieks when the cockhead makes it inside your vagina, gripping the sheets as he slowly pushes more of himself, every inch of his penis becoming greater and greater, inaudible babbles once the base meets your folds.

Geto allows you a couple of seconds to stabilize your breathing, starting with excruciatingly slow thrusts–so painfully slow that you can feel every dent and vein that ventures inward and outward your chasm; it’s hard for your hips not to move on their own. With every pull, your inner walls clench on the shaft as if wanting more as he leaves your warmth. And every push makes you full to the brink of tears, and your brows trenched together as your fists ball the sheets.

“Mmaahh…Nnahaah…!” The brush of your velvety channel feels good within the minute, and the insertion pain is now being replaced with pleasure. Your roll to the ceiling at the graze of your G-spot, the butt plug made your nerves more sensitive with how busy your lower half was. And once he’s warmed up enough, your companion turns up the speed of his ruts. “Taahhh, I, ohhhGod…! Sugu—Oooo!!” Did he just poke your cervix!? You sobbed out loud.

“Nnmm, holy shiiit, you feel so good, sweetie,” Geto moans, taking in the view before him. The lingerie you were wearing gave a beautiful image of your backside, his indigo orbs survey from the muscles of your back to your prompted ass. Holy hell, it was driving him crazy, watching how the flesh of your butt reverberates with the smack of his pelvis. It makes him want to go ever faster, harder. And don’t get him started on the white bunny tail butt plug; shit was too cute to resist and toy with, pulling on the item lightly and turning it around.

The action had your holes clenching simultaneously. “Shh–Shhtop, Suguuu!!” You wailed out, toes curling as he taunted your anus with light pulls and pushes. “D-Don’t do that…!”

“Heh, sorry, my bunny girl,” God, the way he was teasing you was literal hell on Earth with how he’s using your body right now. “You know I can’t help myself when it comes to you…Aiisshh! Fuhuck, you’re squeezing me so hard…Hmm? You like it when I tease you, huh, baby?”

You shook your head no in a rushed manner, the heat of your face already coursing to your ears. But then your frame jerked along with the sound of something, and it was a hand smacking on the skin of your butt.

“Now, don’t be like that,” Geto chuckles above you as you cry. The same hand he used to slap you soothes the blow. “You know you can be honest with me. At least your body is…Don’t you like being close to me like this?” You don’t reply, too busy squealing at another graze of your sensitive spots. So, he slaps your buttocks once more. “Don’t ignore me, love.”

“—Mmmph! Ahh-hahh, I-I,” You swallow spit before choking on it. “I can’t…Hic, it’s shoh embarrassing…!”

“Aww, is the little bunny still scared?” He then bends down to your ear, a big move on his part as you swear you’re bound to shut down from the closeness. “Hmm? What’s so embarrassing?”

A sluggish pull back before Geto snaps his hips into you harshly, another jab to your cervix practically has you seeing stars. “Hoooh!! Be–Becausee!!” God, it’s so hard to think right now, the pound of your head getting harsher with the increased heat. “Y–You—Ahhaa! Youu make me…s-sound sho dirt—Eeeyahh!”

“Oh?” He licks your ear before nibbling on the helix. “You don’t like it when I fuck you like this? Don’t like it when I whisper to your ear while you scream for me?” You shake your head no, which is extinguished once Geto stuffs your mouth with his fingers. Your tongue, played with by his fore and middle finger, has you mewling like no tomorrow. “Hmmm, that’s a funny thing to say when your pussy can’t stop twitching on me. Make it seem like you’re not embarrassed to milk my cock dry, huh, princess.”

“Nnoohh, it’s not—hic—not like that!” A tear trickles down a hot cheek as you suck on his fingers, his thumb there unaware to wipe it. “Don’t say stuff like that…!”

“Why? Too crude for my angel’s ears?” He keeps teasing you, “Even though we’ve fucked lots of times, you still act like such a cutie.”

“Stooop,” Lord have mercy. Any more than this, and you’re bound to melt away sooner rather than later. “D-Don’t tease me…”

He can’t help it, not when you sound so cute and flustered because of him. It makes him think of an idea and straightens himself off of you. But not away from you — he then grabs your leg and rests it on his shoulder while straddling the other, changing the position so you can look at each other. Something a lot more intimate as he goes back to drilling his length into your heat. With a smug grin, he asks, “Is this less embarrassing for you, sweet baby?”

Your heart almost jumped out of your throat; no, this is much worse! Your shrieks returned to erupt out of your figure as Geto’s pace increased. The new angle achieves having his dick venture deeper inside your throbbing channel, pounding to you until the hilt meets your southern lips, and the bump and grind of your clitoris with the motion is enough to have you winded. “—Ohoohh!! Dooahh! N-Nooo, d-don’t look…!” You try to shield your face with your forearm.

Yet Geto instantly refutes that, using his free hand to move it while he bends back down; his added weight has you whining aloud. “Don’t do that,” he groans at the contract of your walls, retaliating with more rough plunges. “No more hiding from me; I wanna see that pretty face always.”

“Suguu, pleasee—Nnnn!” Scrapes to the walls of your vaginal walls are even more dangerous in this position. “T’oo faaast!!”

“Hnngh! FFfuckin’ shit…But you feel so good,” Geto presses his forehead onto yours. “You feel so good, you look so good, like holy fuck! You drive me too crazy; it’s–Ghhh!- just not right how you can make me go wild. I wanna see it all, wanna see how cute you look, how dirty you look, and how fucking hot you sound because of me—and only me.” A kiss to your nose before placing one on the corner of your lips. “Starting now, I wanna see all these sides of you, so don’t hide them from me…”

You are given no room to reply to his statements as a kiss to your mouth finally seals the deal for tonight. Light pecks gradually dwell into steamy, longing smooches, tongue and teeth classing for intimacy. It’s all it takes for you to sink into his touch finally and the comforter beneath you, submitting to him as he finishes you off.

Geto then rolls his hips at an erratic cadence, and relentless hits to your cervix have you blubbering helplessly into his lips. Ungovernable throbs around his girth are ineluctable, the climb of your orgasm climbing up tenfold with the brush of your clit up against his pelvis. OhhhGod! It’s coming, I’m gonna—“Mmmmph!”

The peak of your crescendo has you moaning deep into the kiss, your writhing figure submitted to the end of your session as your cunt flutters around Get’s girth as the shocks of the climax rock your entire body. And your contraction is all your partner needs to let go of the reins and cease to his own release, his pulsating shaft expelling his load deep into your palpitating vagina. The two of you continue to kiss as your bodies heave and jolt, with the last of the aftershocks coursing through your nerves.

He breaks the kiss, the two of you gasping for air in sync. Drool slips from your lips and comes down to your chin, and Geto smiles before kissing your cheek. “Thank you for the gift,” he commends you. “Ya sure I can’t get at least one picture of you?”

You’re undoubtedly out of breath, yet your facial expression doesn’t fail to display unease. “Please…stop teasing me,” you sniffle with hooded eyes.

“Okay, my sweet bunny girl,” he chortles. “Well, at the very least, let’s go another round, ‘kay?”

“Wha—H-huh!?!?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…I will never listen to your advice ever again.”

“Wow, rude?”

“Right, like whatever happened to ’thank you’?”

As far as mornings go, this one was ultimately out of the norm. When was the last time you woke up with your body sore to the bone? Because the moment the sun’s rays peaked through the curtains and landed on your eyes, you couldn’t move a single finger or toe without feeling a sense of heaviness. Or maybe it was because you found that your tall boyfriend was still sound asleep; his slim frame was spooning you close to him. You could hear his light snore as he rested in the crook of your neck and arm to your shoulder with a strong leg between yours.

Your face warmed up at the realization that he was so close to your proximity, and it only worsens when you realize that you both are in the nude, which rarely [if not NEVER] happens! Where’s your pajamas? At the very least, an oversized shirt and panties!

But you couldn’t find them anywhere. All you could see was a black negligee and a white bunny-eared headband, and memories of last night finally started to swim into your brain. But the true horror was when you saw the butt plug from before down on the comforter, and it slipped past your mind not to scream and kick the item in humiliating terror while abruptly waking up your partner. WHAT THE FUUUUCK!??!?

And to add the nail to the coffin, your body didn’t look like how you left it yesterday. As you got up to head for the bathroom, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and felt like you witnessed a scene from a horror movie. Your skin was covered in light bruises and bitemarks, discoloration where it’s implied there were hickeys received all around your neck, stomach, and inner thighs. You were still wearing the black knee-high stockings. However, those looked utterly different from how they looked initially; tears and holes were found all over, but most prominently, the inside of your upper thigh area.

Speechless was the word to describe your puzzlement—appalled, dumbstruck, void of thinking as your reflection showcased an entirely different person. Th-…There’s no way… That’s all you could say to yourself, but it was the way.

Once Geto left for work, it wasn’t any easier for you to work around the house. Working remotely suddenly became an obstacle, as every time your mind recalled the events that transpired the night before, you’d become too flustered to continue your work. You couldn’t even walk into your shared bedroom, too rattled to the point that you just used the guest bathroom! The notion of embarrassment was getting challenging to function today; had you known this would’ve been the effect of buying that damn outfit, you would’ve stopped yourself!

Hence, you’re now complaining to the people who probed you to purchase it in the first place. “A ‘thank you’? I could barely enter past the threshold of my own room, and you want me to thank you!?”

It was late afternoon. You were washing dishes and drying them in the kitchen while putting them aside. But you weren’t alone; your laptop sat at the kitchen island with an application running. On the screen, a window harbored two screens with different faces: one woman with brown hair appearing to smoke out her balcony, and the other with pale blue hair styling her hair to a bun.

The brunette, Shoko, responds to your words. “Y/n, calm down; all you did was have sex in a bunny costume; nothing radioactive happened there.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like I did something radioactive!” You retorted, wiping the sponge across the wet plate concerningly fast. You pick up the headband from last night and grimace. “Damn this headband…God, I’m so sore.”

“Having sex for an hour straight will do that to a person,” a nerve is stricken when the other speaks; Mei Mei is now done styling the back of her hair with a sly smile. “Pfft, I still find it funny that you passed out.”

“It’s not funny!!” To your dismay, you only make your two best friends laugh even harder. “This is not how this is supposed to be; I don’t even recognize my own body…You saw the pictures!”

Shoko titters, “Yeah, I saw, and it looks like Geto couldn’t keep his hands off you.” She takes a drag of her cigarette and exhales the smoke. “Isn’t that a good thing, though? It means that he liked the gift and appreciated it tenfold.”

“Exactly,” Mei Mei agrees. Your complaints seem to suggest that we completed the mission of making him feel special—which was, you know, the main reason you wanted to do it in the first place.”

“Oh, he felt special, alright,” you said, placing a dry plate on the rest. Although you’d been in a constant state of indignity, what they were saying was true. The whole point of making a fool of yourself and wearing a costume was meant to be outside the norm. It’s exciting for you and Geto, and you can assume that the outcome brought a satisfying end for both parties.

…However, it would be nice if it didn’t cost you a lot of hickeys and soreness. You sighed heavily, “You’re right…I’m just happy that he enjoyed it. He even said I looked cute dressed as his little bunny.”

“I bet!! Why didn’t you take pictures!?” Shoko complains, her device coming closer to her face to emphasize her disheartened tone of voice.

“I would rather die than have photos of that of me around,” the thought alone causes an unsettling quiver.

But Mei Mei also voices her grievances. “Ehhh, but I bet you looked so adorable~. You better take pictures the next time you do something like that!”

You could’ve sworn your neck was nearly to break when you snapped your head to look at your laptop screen. “Are you insane; what do you mean next time?”

A silver brow rises. “Oh, be real, Y/n; you really think this is some one-and-done type thing? I bet you ten dollars that Geto would love to pull those bunny ears out again.”

The brunette chuckles after exhaling more smoke from her pretty lips. “Aye, maybe we should find you some more outfits to wear for him. Maybe we should have you in a fox costume next.”

Your mouth drops in displeasure, but Mei Mei beats you into saying something. “Mmm, now that’s a good idea; I saw something online with cute ears and a skirt. And,” her lavender eyes narrow with a scoff. “I’m sure you’d love to wear the butt plug tail of that one too, Y/n—“

“GOODBYE!!”

You slapped your laptop screen down as your farewell to your best friends, whom you’re sure are probably laughing to themselves for witnessing your reaction.

Your cheeks are so hot that they are in discomfort; unbelievable. A next time!? You couldn’t comprehend the possibility that you’d be wearing something like last night again. Could you even look at bunny ears the same again after what just happened?! Bunny tails, too; what you primitively thought was cute and pure has now been tarnished to a suggestive and erogenous image. No, there’s unquestionably no way you would be put into that position ever again. No, no, nope, and no!!

DING-DONG!!

The sudden noise of the doorbell diminishes your reluctant energy within milliseconds. You checked the kitchen clock — Geto should be coming home right about now, but why would he be ringing the bell? Inquisitiveness draws up to your shoulders as you dry your hands, taking light steps to the door and opening it after unlocking.

You leave a small opening to peak through, “Y-Yes?”

“Is that the lovely Y/n I’m seeing~?”

That voice…Not Geto’s, but familiarity sparks up, and recognition prompts you to open the door wider.

Pure snowy white hair is the first thing that captures your attention, along with the dark shades concealing its owners’ eyes—a signature look of your partner’s friend, “Sa–Satoru?”

“Aye, you remembered to call me by my first name that time!” The named man was dressed down in his work attire, his hand holding his black blazer while he brought his sunglasses up for his azure eyes to throw a wink at you. “It’s been a while, huh?”

“It has!” Your perplexity was evident in your tone; you had forgotten just how tall the man was. “Wh-What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was finally able to catch your boy-toy here before ditching me at work,” Gojo brings your boyfriend into view with the tug of his collar, the raven-haired man expressing nothing but total irritation. “Dude owes me dinner, and I heard someone is cooking a nice meal tonight! Have room for another person?”

“Who said you were invited?” Geto questions his best friend after getting out of his hold.

“I did!” The white-haired man answers. “You owe me for saving your ass yesterday with that file scare—you’re welcome, by the way,” he ignores the glare of his friend. “And just be glad I’m asking for a home-cooked meal, or else I’d be draining your pockets at that new steak place that opened up recently.”

“Unbelievable…” Geto sighs exasperately. “Hurry up and get in.”

You move out of the way so the men can enter your abode. “Excuse my intrusion~,” the blue-eyed man says as he takes off his dress shoes in the foyer and happily walks to the living room.

Your boyfriend shakes his head, “Sorry ‘bout this, baby.”

“It’s okay; I was done washing dishes anyway.”

“Mmm,” he brings you in for a hug, part of the routine when he returns home. “How’re you feeling now?”

Your heart skips a beat. “I feel…okay, still sore, but, you know…” He smelt so good, his cologne pleasantly sinking you in.

“Heh, sorry,” he kisses your temple. “I had a good time; you really spoiled me.”

The heat in your cheeks ventures to your ears and nape, and your heart returns to racing at an irregular dance. The memories of last night all come back to haunt you once more; images of you being bent into different positions and crying out for Geto hit you one after the other. The lewd thoughts are too much for your pretty little head, especially when you imagine the tall, dark-headed man all sweaty and panting above you with a grin on his face like last night.

At this point, your face will need an ice pack because it’s getting hot. “I’m..really glad you liked it.”

“Loved it,” he takes your hand and after removing his shoes. “Can’t wait to try it again next time.”

And with those last two words, the world suddenly fell to a standstill. You didn’t hear what you just heard—no, you didn’t. “N-Next time?” You repeat.

“Of course!” he leads you down the hall to the open space. What, you thought you’d spend all that money on me for just one night?” No, I HOPED so! “Besides, I was looking online during my break at work, and I saw this fox variant look that I think would look real good on you—”

You couldn’t believe your ears; not only did Mei Mei prove you wrong, but now you have to deal with your boyfriend’s interest in wanting to indulge more in this idea you’ve brought into the relationship. What you thought and hoped would be for one night is now bound to haunt you for many days to come, and that thought in itself had you shaking in your slippers.

As well as the fact that you now owe your best friend cash for jinxing this situation. Damn her!

“Yo, Suguru.”

You perk up when you hear Gojo’s voice as you two enter the kitchen area. And just when you thought this world couldn’t chew and spit you out enough, the image of the white-haired man standing beside the kitchen island holding something in his hand mortifies you to the core.

“What’s with the bunny ear headband? I thought Easter went and passed already.”

10K notes · View notes

szatears · 1 month ago

Text

had her first, stack.

summary: is it really cheating if he had you first?

pairing: ex boyfriend!stack x blackfem!reader

warnings: cheating kinda? (on reader's part), it's a little long, angst, ooc smoke, some mary hate, p in v, oral (fem receiving), heavy making out, descriptions of reader, use of n word, not proofread.

notes: this came to me in a dream i had during a nap LMAOOOO. also i hate using y/n i don't know why but i audibly groaned when i realised i had to 😖 what do we think of a part two?

It wasn't by choice that you ended up in the opening night of the juke joint. Your cousin Shirley, ever the music enjoyer, caught word of someone throwing a party to open up their juke joint, and as she usually did, she dragged you along with her.

Not that you would've said no if she asked, you knew when to appreciate good music too. If only you asked whose juke joint it was. Maybe then you would've prepared yourself a little more.

Shirley came by your mama's house to pick you up, the two of you walking the short distance to another friend's to hitch a ride with them.

You were ready by the time she arrived, your curls out of their usual bun, defined neatly thanks to your mama's hand. You chose something simple, not having enough time to be fussy about what to wear.

It wasn't a new dress, you'd had it for some time but rarely wore it. It was a deep green, almost emerald colour. Held together by spaghetti straps over your shoulders, the v-line at its front brought all attention to the dainty gold locket that hung from your neck. The dress, made finely from silk, reached your ankles, kitten heels also in emerald on show. It fit you perfectly, hugging your figure in every right place.

A thin shawl accompanied you with the dress, lazily hung over your shoulders to shield you from the breeze that would follow with the night, but also from any unwanted stares. You knew a certain someone would have something to say. That was, if he knew where you were off to.

When asked, you never said you were officially married, nor did you say you were spoken for. You usually left it at "I'm in a good place with someone right now." Because that's all he was at the moment. A good place. His name was Jeremiah, you met a few months back.

He hadn't made any attempt to show you he wanted to marry you, so you played as if that was the case. Though you wouldn't entertain anyone else, and neither would he. So in a way, he was kinda it for you.

Sure, you had your fair share of fun with him, but he couldn't ruin you if anything were to go south. Not when you already were, unbeknownst to everyone else except him.

"You gon' stare at yourself in the mirror all day, or...?" Shirley nudged you as you stepped out of the car, fiddling with the pocket mirror in your hand. You looked up at your surroundings, noticing the juke joint and the cars around it, then back at Shirley, a smile tugging at your lips.

"You know better than anyone what looks mean to a lady."

"Mhm. You sure it ain't 'cause you're seeing Stack again?" She smirked, taking your hand in hers as you walked towards the doors.

"You─── what?!" You stopped in your tracks, someone bumping into you as you did. Shirley widened her eyes a little, apologising for you. "Shir, what did you just say?"

"Girl, I been told you. This here's Smoke and Stack's juke joint. Looks like Chicago finally blew 'em back to what they know."

Your breath hitched as you fumbled at the thin shawl around you. "No, you did not tell me, otherwise I wouldn't have come." You didn't mean to snap at her, but of all people, Shirley knew what the twins, what Stack meant for you.

She sighed, turning to you. Smoothing your flyaway baby hairs with the tip of her fingers, she spoke gently. "I know you and Stack ain't leave it on good terms, but that was ages ago. You've moved on, right? Don't let him ruin your night, yeah?"

You sighed, nodding your head despite thinking something completely different. But there was no going back now. At least you were promised good food and music.

Stepping towards the door, you recognised Cornbread letting people in. He did a double take when he glanced at you, shouting your name out loud. "You ain't so lil' no more, though, my God! How you been?"

"Nice to see you too, Cornbread. God," Shirley rolled her eyes. The two of you grew up together, close since knee height, so everyone who knew you, knew Shirley too.

"Shut up, Shirley. I know it was you who took my dice at that last game," He bucked at her, referring to the last time the both of you saw him over at a gathering in town, years ago. "Anyways, y'all ladies have a good night, you hear?"

He let you both in, and immediately you were hit by the sound of the piano wavering through the joint, bodies dancing and mingling all over, the sweet smell of liquor that longed for you... You had to admit, it looked great.

"Here, let's get us something to drink," Shirley walked to both of you towards were the drinks were being served.

"What can I get you fine ladies... Y/N? Whatchu doin' here?" Annie's face lit up when she saw you, reaching over the counter to give you and Shirley brief hugs.

"I could ask you the same thing! This one here dragged me along with her," you budged Shirley, a bright smile on your face upon seeing Annie. It seemed not so long ago was the last time you saw her, but really it was years. Probably around the same time you last saw the twins.

"Girl, don't act like you weren't jumping at the chance to come with," Shirley laughed, handing Annie a dollar. "We'll take 2 corn liquors please, Miss Annie."

"We damn near the same age, calling me Miss Annie," she kissed her teeth, pocketing the money before pouring the drinks. "You seen 'em yet?" she asked, directed more at you. You took a sip from the small glass, shaking your head 'no' after.

Annie nodded slowly. She knew all that happened between you and Stack. Like you did with her and Smoke. The beginning to now.

Shirley finished her glass, handing it back to Annie before standing up from her seat. "Look, there's Pearline! You wanna go dance, or you're good here?"

"No, I'm alright here. I'll join you later though," you waved her off with a kiss to her cheek, choosing to sit with Annie for a bit longer.

The two of you spoke and spoke as she served customers, and yourself, about everything the last 7 years had done for you both.

You could see Annie's eyes wander off to something behind you as you spoke, and you, in your 'three corn liquors in' state, turned around to see what it was. More like who, it was.

Smoke took a drag from the lit cigarette in his mouth, his head slightly tilting to the side when his gaze settled on you. He was surprised, you could gather that much through his stoic expression. Never was one to give away much.

Tearing away from you, he nodded at Annie. "How's it going? Good?"

She blinked, before nodding. "Nothing wrong so far."

He nodded, turning back to you, taking another drag from the cigarette. "Good to see you, Y/N." He bent down to your seated height to give you a small kiss on the cheek, cigarette smoke still lingering around him. Smoke was respectful towards you most of the times, when he acknowledged you, mainly because Annie had a few words with him about his approach to some people.

"You too," you mumbled, fingers drumming the wooden table in front of you. You liked Smoke, even if most times you couldn't tell if he liked, hell even tolerated, you.

"You seen Stack yet?" He asked. When you shook your head, he only gave you a curt not, walking away as quickly as he did.

"Well he ain't changed one bit," you blew out a breath.

Annie laughed, wiping down a table.

─── ༉‧₊˚✧ ───

The joint was packed to the brim, fellas laughing whilst they rolled dice and racked up dollars, ladies dancing with their girls or men as the blues rang throughout the crowd. It was amazing, you had to admit.

You were leaning against a pillar, observing from behind the scenes as you tended to always do at events like these. You watched on as Shirley danced with a random man, occasionally looking over at you with a wink.

You shook your head with a smile, fiddling with the material of your shawl. You desperately wanted to leave it somewhere, but you knew you probably wouldn't end up getting it back.

Sighing, you began to make your way towards the stage so you could hear the words to the songs better, before bumping into someone.

It was a small bump but my, did it almost send you going backwards. It could only be a man with a chest that hard, and you couldn't control your facial expressions, a mean ass mug made its way to your face before you knew it.

"Sorry 'bout that, you good?"

You knew that voice anywhere. That bass, that drawl... From anywhere. Your head snapped up to his, the scowl still present.

You saw the realisation and surprise fill in his features slowly. Stack was lost for words, for once. He brought a hand to his mouth, removing the toothpick. "Hey..." he said, barely above a whisper. "Whatchu doin' here?"

Seven years and that was all he had? The scoff that left your lips was deserved at that point. "Excuse me," you waved past him, shaking a little at the fact that you just saw the man that left you in absolute pieces, acting like none of that even happened albeit he saw you for all of ten seconds.

"Y/N, hollon," you heard him say but didn't stop moving through bodies, desperate to get as far away from him as you could.

Just as you were about to round the corner to the edge of the stage, his hand caught your arm, pulling you back into what looked like a corridor.

"Elias, get off of me," you gritted, fighting the physical hold he had on you. He couldn't lie, hearing his name roll off of your tongue after all this time had him feeling giddy, but he ignored you as he opened up the door to one of the rooms in the corridor, pushing you inside.

"You hard of hearing? Let me out, I'm not playing." You attempted to push past him, but he stood planted, blocking the door.

"I'm not playin' either. I just wanna talk."

"You had seven years, why now? Hm?"

He deserved that, and so much more. He nodded his head, bringing a hand to his chin, stroking his goatee. When he took a step closer, you took one back, determined to keep this distance between you and him.

"Look," he sighed, trying to catch your gaze but you looked anywhere but at him. "I know I should've said something, could've wrote to you or whatever. But I had to protect you."

"Protect me?" You scoffed. "I ain't need your protection, what I needed was your love. Hell, you couldn't even give me that most times."

Stack didn't allow himself to be upset over your use of love in the past tense. "I did love you, I still do."

"Yeah? You tellin' ole girl the same thing too? What's her name again... Mary wasn't it?"

Stack kissed his teeth at the mention of Mary, the other woman who just couldn't let him go. He'd told you time and time again that she meant nothing to him, that it was just you, yet she still managed to be in the frame.

"Mary ain't shit to me, I tell you that all the time. And I mean it."

"You lie so much, I don't even know what the truth sounds like coming from you," you mumbled, walking away from him to sit on the unoccupied table. If you were going to have a conversation with this man against your will, you at least wanted to be comfy.

"I ain't mean to lie baby, it's the only way I can leave you out of all this mess." He walked towards you, hands in his pockets. "I missed you."

"A little too late for that. You don't miss Mary?" you tilted your head to the size, revelling in the way he rolled his eyes.

"How many times i gotta tell you I'on care about her?"

"As many times as it takes to convince yourself."

"Fine, I'on care about her. There." He stared at you, watching your reaction. When he saw the faintest twitch in your lip, he smiled, knowing he was getting to you.

He took another step closer to you, now stood between your legs. You let him part your legs, like he had done so many times before, his hands gently moving your thighs. He didn't let go of them when he stood in between them, just ran his hands slowly up and down them.

"I'm sorry," he looked right into your eyes as he spoke. "I was gonna come looking for you today, but i figured you wouldn't wanna see me. But when I saw you today... I had to speak to you."

"Elias..." you sighed. "You can't just come back here after leaving me like that all those years ago, acting like everything's okay. You don't know how much you hurt me."

"I do know baby, 'course I do. It hurt me too."

"Not as much as it did me. You ain't the one who had to pick up the pieces of me after you left, Shirley did that. All cause you weren't there and still won't tell me why."

He sighed, stilling his hands on your thigh to lift your chin up.

"I'm here now, and I ain't goin' nowhere. I'm not leaving you again, i promise."

"Your promises don't mean shit to me anymore, Elias. You can't just sorry your way back into my life. I'm not as easy as you used to think I was."

"And why's that, hm? Some to do with that so called man you call yourself having? What's his face, Jeziah, was it?"

"Fuck you, Elias." you pushed him away from you, getting down from the table. Before you could leave again, he grabbed your arm, pulling you into his chest. His arms caged you in, firm and secure in his hold.

"If that's the typa timing you on, we can do that. But I'm not letting you leave til you hear me out."

"I have heard you out. I don't wanna hear no more," you shook your head.

His fingers stroked the material of your dress around your waist, it was taking everything in him to not pull it off of your right there. "Nah, you didn't. Look at me."

He tilted your head up towards his. "I love you. Only you, you're it for me. What I did... I know it was wrong and trust me I wanted to come back to you so bad, baby. But I had to do it, for both of us. What kinda man I'd be if i didn't provide for my woman?"

The fluttering feeling at your stomach only intensified when he called you his woman, taking you back all those years ago.

"You left me without saying a word, Elias," you whispered, voice breaking as a tear ran down your face. Elias hushed you, wiping the tear away, both his hands cupping your face.

"And I will spend the next forty or however many years saying sorry. I mean that." He kissed your forehead, both of you closing your eyes in that moment.

You shivered when his lips left your skin, your palms resting flat against his chest. He pulled back from the embrace just a little, looking at you as he spoke.

"You gon' let me come back?"

He was serious, about it all you could see now. You didn't reply, just brought your hand to the back of his head, pulling him towards you. When your lips met, you swore your legs would've buckled if he wasn't holding you so tight.

Your shawl dropped to the floor as you kissed him, his lips meshing with your so perfectly it was like the last seven years didn't even happen.

Jeremiah was the last thing on your mind in that moment, you could only focus on Stack's tongue wrestling with yours. You let out a moan when his hands trailed to your ass, squeezing as you made out.

He was first to pull away, wasting no time in kissing down your neck to your collarbone, leaving little bites that were sure to bruise sooner or later. And you let him, throwing your head back against his other shoulder, letting him do his work.

It wasn't until he started to walk you backwards, when your legs hit the edge of the table, that you realised what you both were about to do.

"Wait, E, hold on..." your put your arm between him and you, his eyes snapping to your face.

"What's wrong?"

A lot was wrong in that moment, you knew it.

"If I let you do this, you bet not mess up again," you spoke seriously. He nodded, starving for a taste as he bunched your dress up at your hips.

"I told you baby, I'm not goin' nowhere, not away from you again that's for sure."

He kissed your lips, undoing the buttons to both his waistcoat and dress shirt, leaving him shirtless in all his glory. Your hands raked down his toned front, pulling him back onto you.

As he kissed you tenderly, Stack's fingers slipped into your panties, being met by your wetness, allowing him to easily slip into you. He groaned at the same time you did, your head thrown back as he nudged you to lie down on the table.

"He get you this wet, hm?" He didn't need you to answer, he already knew what it would be. It would be nice to hear it though.

You shook your head. "Fuck, Elias, just do it already," you whined, having had enough of his fingers teasing your clit.

"Aight be patient, I gotta make sure she remembers me," he smiled.

You were about to say something slick, before you remembered just how slick Stack could get. Besides, he already began to take your panties off, pocketing them in his trousers.

He lowered his head to your clit, kissing it gently. Your hand immediately went to the back of his head, lips falling apart as he licked a bold stripe up your pussy.

"Fuck, I missed it here," he mumbled into you, the vibrations driving you crazy. It's not like it had been ages since you were last pleasured, but it had been ages since you were last pleasured by Stack. He had such a way with you, a way that no one else did.

He continued to lick slowly, so agonisingly slow at you, and it wasn't until you squeezed his head with your thighs that he finally gave in. After all, he did have loads of making up to do.

His hands came to your hips, holding you just like he wanted. Taking your clit in his mouth, he looked at you as he sucked, his tongue swirling around it. You couldn't hold eye contact, not when he was looking at you like that, your juices coated around his mouth.

"Oh, my God," you whispered, writhing underneath him as he picked up the pace.

"Why you so quiet? He done turned you shy, huh?" he smirked when he noticed your state.

"Stop talking about him," you groaned, feeling your body jerk as he worked you out, tongue lapping you for all your worth. "Fuck, I'm gonna─── Oh, shit!" You came before you knew it, only Stack could work you like that.

He kept on eating you out through your orgasm, letting you ride out your high on his face. "Just like that baby, give it to me," he encouraged you.

You had no more to give, at least not in that moment. He let go of your hips, only briefly as he sat up. You caught the sight of his glistening face, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips.

"Come here," you mumbled opening your arms for him as you sat up. He pulled you towards the end of the table, meeting your lips halfway. The taste of yourself on him drove you insane, the kiss just downright nasty.

Stack fumbled at his belt, undoing it before he dropped his trousers down as you kissed the side of his neck, your hand wrapped around his throat as he took his dick out of his pants.

He saw the way your eyes glistened at the sight of him, smirking as he unzipped your dress. Stepping out of it, the pair of you were fully naked, nothing new between you both.

"I missed you," you mumbled, a tired smile on your face and he hadn't even fucked you yet.

"Yeah? You missed me or you missed my dick?"

"Ain't it a part of you? It's the same damn thing," you rolled your eyes as your hands caressed his broad shoulders, kissing them.

Stack slid into you with a groan, hooking your legs around his hips as he slowly pushed in, getting accustomed to be inside you again. he wanted to savour this moment forever, your face scrunched up, mouth falling open as you let out such sultry sounds.

He waited for a moment before he started to thrust in and out of you, biting his lips to hold in his own groans. He let go of one side of your hip, bringing that hand to cup at your breasts, squeezing as his thrusts hit you in the right spots.

"Don't you go quiet on me now," your hand wrapped around his throat, pulling his face closer to yours. Stack's brows furrowed at your sudden boldness, but you could tell you already affected him given the way his thrusts stilled for a minute.

"Shit, baby, whatchu doin'?" he groaned, his forehead resting against your as he dug you out. "Fuck, you feel so good, mama. S'like I was never gone."

He regained his composure, swatting your hand away from his throat and instead grabbing yours, not too harsh, just the way you liked it. The sound of skin clapping was the only thing heard in the room, save for your moans that not even your hand could suppress. Thank God this was a juke joint.

"Elias, shittttt..." you shut your eyes tight, the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching threatening to overwhelm you.

"Hold it," he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. He couldn't be serious, surely.

"Fuck, baby, I can't" you whined, nails scratching along his back as you tried to hold in your release.

"You can, just a lil' bit longer, mama." He sweet talked you, kissing your cheek as he neared his own orgasm. His hand left your neck back to your breasts, rubbing over your hardened nipples. It was too much, the way he was doing you.

"I can't─── shit baby I can't hold it," you whimpered, begging him to let you cum.

"Aight baby, give it to me," was all he said and you let go, a wave of pleasure blanketing you as you came, gushing all over his lower body. Stack fucked you through your orgasm as he came too with a low moan, pushing his seed in and out of you as he slowed down.

"Shit," he sighed out, looking down at the mess you both made. He slowly pulled out of you, kissing your lips as he used his dick to push his cum back in you. He was still the same nasty man you knew.

"I think fat ma missed me," he joked, laughing when you hit his chest. "C'mon, 'fore Smoke think I'm dead."

He helped you get dressed, conveniently finding and unused towel to wipe you both down. You dress now back on, you fixed your hair as best as you could.

Stack put everything of his back on too, tilting his head to the side when he caught you looking at him expectantly, "Yeah?"

"My panties, Elias."

"Nah, I'ma hold onto 'em fore you. C'mon," you rolled your eyes as he opened the door for you, being met with the sound of music yet again. You walked out before him, taking a deep breath and trying to act like that didn't just happen. You saw Shirley, walking towards her.

Before Stack could catch up wit you, Bo caught his arm, looking between the two of you with a smirk on his face.

"Ain't no goddamn way," he laughed. "You know she's in it with that lawyer guy up in Delta, right?"

"So, nigga? I had her first."

taglist. @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @favoritten @christinabae @junkie05

#stack x black reader #stack x reader #michael b jordan x reader #sinners x reader #michael b jordan x black reader #sinners fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

gothgoblinbabe · 10 months ago

Text

She Wolf

A/N: I said I was gonna get this done and it took me way too long and has an absurd word count but I am incapable of holding in word vomit! Inspired by She Wolf by Shakira cause idc its GOOD and it got me thinking' so here it is. Also you don't have to listen to the song as you read but I think It's fun!

Summary: You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, Logan's kind of an asshole for a minute, Possessive/jealous!Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), friends to lovers cause that's my fave, fem reader, mutant reader, unnamed creepy guy (?) aaaand Logan absolutely has a pain kink. I think that's it but if there's any I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 7K (im so sorry but I'm not though)

divider credit here

“Are you ever gonna tell him?”

You looked up from your desk towards Ororo’s voice, sighing and taking your glasses off your nose.

“God, I don’t know, ‘ro. I don’t think I should. It’s just going to end with me being humiliated and him never wanting to even be in the same room as me again.”

You’d had a crush on Logan Howlett since the day you first walked through the doors of the mansion six months ago. You’d probably be considered best friends by now with how much time you’d spend together, doing jack shit around the mansion on your days off. Just about everyone could tell he had a soft spot for you and that you had one for him. Logan was a classic ‘tough guy’, constantly trying to hide his kind nature with a hard exterior, but it took only a couple weeks for you to crack that barrier. You weren’t exactly a seemingly ‘soft’ type either.

You’d spent the majority of your life before you joined the X-men hoping from couch to couch and hitching rides with strangers, not really having a destination or a place to call home. You’d been dropped off at a church when you were fourteen, around the time you started to turn every full moon. Your parents couldn’t live with having to chain their mutant daughter in their basement once a month, and so they dropped you where they thought you’d find some ‘help’. You’d been passed from foster home to foster home till you were eighteen, each one passing you up the moment they realized you were not like them. It was always a slip of the mask, something setting you off to make you so enraged your eyes gleam yellow and your sharp canines make an unfortunate appearance. You took off the second you could and being on the road came with its fair share of creeps; men with terrible intentions looking for opportunities. You’d never wanted to hurt anyone - truly - but when cornered by a creep, it was hard to think anyone would miss them. A couple of local newspapers caught on, debating where the wolf that tore men to shreds had gone. You weren’t an animal. You just had teeth like one.

Knowing you couldn’t lurk in town much longer, you’d hitchhiked your way to a camp occupied with people like you; lost with no place to call home. It was there that you’d met a couple of mutants who told you about Charles Xavier and the place that seemed completely unreal until you set your eyes on it. That felt like a lifetime ago by now.

“I think you're underestimating how he feels about you,” Ororo said, bringing you back to reality. She was sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through one of your magazines as you worked at your computer to try and make a lesson plan for the coming week.

“I think you’re overestimating how he feels about me,” you let out a short laugh, shaking your head.

Just as she was about to retort, you both heard someone shout your names from the hallway. You looked at each other curiously and left the room, hearing shouting again.

“Are you guys gonna play Monopoly with us or what?”

You both giggled and made your way downstairs towards Scott’s voice. Him, Jean, Marie, Bobby and Logan were all sat in the living room, the game already set up on the coffee table. Bobby and Marie were picking out their game pieces, assigning everyone else to their own piece.

“Okay, Logan, you’re gonna be the dog,” Marie smiled, dropping the little metal piece into the palm of his hand.

He was definitely not as amused, “why do I have to be a damn dog?”

Ignoring him, she handed another piece out to Jean, “you’re the thimble.”

She then handed the boat to Scott, the top hat to you, and the iron to Ororo. You all began the game after Scott painstakingly over-explained the rules and how to play.

It was a good bit into the game that you all became distracted with conversation, eventually leaving the board game untouched. The topic of compatibility came up somehow, the conversation focused on the joy of Bobby and Marie.

“I think anyone would be lucky to have what you guys have,” Ororo smiled, shifting her gaze between the two of them.

“And what we have, obviously,” Scott joked, hanging his arm around Jean.

“Gross,” Logan chimed in, taking a sip of the beer he’d hidden in the back of the fridge.

“I think someone is jealous,” Ororo said in a singsong voice, poking his arm.

“Of having someone hang on me all the time? No, thanks,” he scoffed.

As stupid as it was, it made you a little sad to hear he had no interest in even entertaining the idea. It wasn’t a surprise, but still a disappointment nonetheless.

Ororo brought up your name and your eyes went huge, silently begging her to keep her mouth shut.

“You don’t seem to mind her hanging on you all the time. I think you’d be cute together,” she said, smiling mischievously at you. Scott and Jean agreed and you had never wanted to smash your head into a coffee table as much as you did in that moment.

“Nah, definitely not my type of girl.”

It was just seven words, out quick without a second thought, and yet it felt like you’d been punched in the gut. You couldn’t take your eyes off the monopoly board on the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Definitely not my type of girl.

“I think I should head to bed, it’s getting late,” you mumbled, keeping your head down to hide your blushed face as you got up from the couch and practically ran out of the room and up the stairs.

“What the hell was that?” Scott scolded Logan the moment you were out of sight.

“That was so mean,” Ororo chimes in, backhanding him on the arm.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Logan said nervously , shrugging his shoulders, “…do you think she’s mad at me?”

“Probably more hurt than mad,” Jean said honestly.

“Shit,” he sighed, putting his beer down to rub his face with his hands, “what do I say?”

“Not that,” Marie replied, “why did you even say that anyway? You could’ve just said no.”

“I think you like her and you’re being mean so that she wont like you back because you’re afraid,” Ororo said after a moment of silence.

Logan sat quiet for a moment, his hands still over his face.

“Am I that easy to read?” His voice was muffled through his hands.

The rest of them couldn’t help exchanging knowing smiles.

“So you finally admit it,huh? You’ve got a crush,” Scott teased.

Logan moved his hands from his eyes to glare daggers at him, “you shut your fucking mouth or I’ll shove that monopoly board where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“I think that’s a yes,” Jean whispered to her boyfriend.

“Talk to her when you see her tomorrow. We’re not going to let you hurt her feelings just because you can’t accept your own,” Ororo advised, lightly patting him on the shoulder.

“Do you think she’s even gonna talk to me?”

“Only one way to find out.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan tried to catch up with you the next day, always seeing you as you were leaving a room he was entering or passing by and even then, you ignored his calls of your name.

It was a little after dinner now and because it was a weekend, a couple of kids were up playing the PlayStation in the living room. Bobby and Marie sat with them, taking turns with the controllers.

Logan entered the room after about three laps around the mansion, mentioning your name to the both of them.

“Have you guys seen her? I’ve been trying to talk to her all day, she keeps running from me.”

“Can’t really blame her,” Bobby muttered, his eyes never leaving the TV screen as he button smashed.

“She’s in her room,” Marie answered before Logan could come up with a retort, “she went up before dinner, said she wasn’t hungry.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair, “she’s skipping dinner now too, great.”

“Go talk to her!” She insisted, shooing him away with a wave of her hand.

He made his way to the stairs and up to your bedroom, knocking lightly on your door. Hearing nothing, he knocked again, a little harder. Still, nothing.

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know. I wanna talk about yesterday, I was a dick.”

Silence. Now he was a little worried. He tentatively grabbed the doorknob and turned, cracking it open a bit.

Your bed was made, your desk was neatly organized and you were nowhere to be seen. He noticed your purse was gone from the usual spot you’d leave it in and your closet was open, a couple garments and some shoes strewn about on the floor. It looked like you’d gotten dressed and dipped. He figured maybe Ororo or Jean might know where you were, leaving your room and looking for them instead. He found them shortly after, huddled in the kitchen. Again, he asked if either of them knew where you were.

“She’s in her room, she went up before dinner,” Ororo answered.

“No, she’s not. And her purse is gone.”

Both women turned to each other with the same worried expression.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Having tried your cellphone about thirteen times from just about everybody’s phones, they all decided they had to tell Charles. He used his ability to connect with every mutant on the planet to try and locate you, visualizing with his eyes closed. Everyone stood in his study, anxiously awaiting his conclusion. After a moment of silence, he started to silently chuckle to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asked immediately, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m afraid you all have your work cut out for you,” he replied, finally opening his eyes.

“So, where is she?” Ororo asked, worry in her voice.

“There is a club called The Nightcrawler - “ Charles began to explain, but Logan interjected impatiently.

“Club? What, like a book club?” He nearly scoffed. There was no way you were at some sleazy nightclub in the city. You were a homebody and an introvert, neither of which made clubbing enjoyable.

“Maybe we should just let her have fun,” Jean began to say, but Logan was already halfway out the door.

Uncharacteristically, you found yourself dressed to the nines in the middle of a dance floor full of people. You’d spent a while trying outfits in your room, searching for something you could actually wear out that wasn’t sweatpants and a hoodie. You’d settled on a halter top that tied at your neck and in the back and a pair of ridiculously tight pants that you’d bought forever ago and never had the guts to wear. You ended up standing in front of the mirror, choosing a pair of very cute but very uncomfortable shoes and looking over the outfit. If you weren’t Logan’s ‘type of girl’, you sure as hell were somebody’s. Trying to get yourself out there may be the best solution to forgetting the heart-crushing infatuation you had with your best friend who would never see you as anything more.

“I feel ridiculous,” you chuckled to yourself, turning in the mirror to see the back of your outfit. You did look good, just super out of your comfort zone. You grabbed your bag and ended up slipping out when everyone was eating dinner. That’s how you ended up where you were, pushing your way through the crowd of people with a drink in your hand. You passed the raised lounge area and felt a hand on your shoulder, making you turn suddenly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?”

He was tall, leaning down a little to shout over the music. He was pretty good looking but didn’t look like Logan in the slightest, which you realized was exactly the point of going out tonight. He was dressed nice and smelled like expensive cologne.

“Sure, why not?”

As you abandoned your half finished drink on a table and let him pull you a little further into him, a familiar song started to thump through the speakers.

“I love this song!” You exclaimed, letting the nameless guy rest his hands on your hips.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

“Ironic,” you muttered under the music.

───────♡──────────────♡───────

Logan walked ahead of Ororo, Jean and Scott, his long legs taking him much further at a much faster pace.

“Logan, slow down!” Ororo called out, jogging a bit to catch up with him.

“What if she didn’t even want to be there? What if some guy dragged her there?”

“Oh,” Jean laughed, “ I see. You’re jealous.”

“No.”

“Yup.”

“Nope.”

“So you’d be fine if we walked in there and she is with a guy?”

Logan slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, “sure, whatever,” feigned disdain in his voice.

The second the door opened, the bass of the music was overwhelming. It was dim, save for a few colorful lights projecting around the room. The four of them were squished together near the door, trying to pick you out in a sea of moving people.

“This is gonna be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Scott shouted.

“Not necessarily,” Ororo replied, a smug smile on her face.

“What?” Logan furrowed his eyebrows.

She pointed across the room and he followed her gaze.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Open up and set it free

There's a she wolf in your closet

Let it out so it can breathe

You didn’t even look like you. He’d never seen you in anything that showed that much skin or any clothes that even hugged you like that, for that matter.

And you were with a guy.

Sitting across a bar, staring right at her prey

It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way

“So, what did we tell you?” Jean shouted, waving her hand in front of his glaring eyes.

“Just some kid,” he replied dismissively, turning to her, “doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“You sure?” Scott nudged his shoulder, making Logan look towards you again.

That kid had his hands up the sides of your top with his head craned down to kiss your neck, your back to his chest. You were giggling, playfully smacking his arm. Truthfully, you thought the attention was nice for a change. After trying so hard for too long to get Logan to notice you, it felt good to have someone pay attention to you in that way.

Not looking for cute little divos or rich city guys

I just want to enjoy

By having a very good time

And behave very bad in the arms of a boy

You felt his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, enough for his nails to dig into your skin. Out of instinct, you felt your canine teeth start to poke against your lower lip. You tried in vain to tug his hands from you, only making him tighten his grip.

The switch in demeanor was obvious even from across the dark room, your smile turning into a grimace that bared your sharp teeth. You yanked the sleeves of his jacket to make him finally let go, turning around while he still had his arms ghosted around you.

S.O.S., she's in disguise

“Touch me like that again, you son of a bitch, and I will rip you to fucking shreds.”

You gathered fistfuls of his shirt, bringing him down to eye level so he could see your snarling teeth and gleaming eyes as a hint that you weren’t bluffing.

There's a she wolf in disguise

Coming out, coming out, coming out

Before anyone could even tell him to stay put, Logan had already disappeared into the crowd of people.

“God damn it,” Scott huffed, following Jean and Ororo when they went after him.

“Logan!” Jean yelled, trying to grab his jacket to slow him and only having him slip out of her grip.

There's a she wolf in the closet

Let it out so it can breathe

“Shit, I’m kinda into the fangs. What, you gonna bite me?” He was whispering in your ear, your hands still on his shirt. Before you could do something you were going to regret, you felt someone tug your upper arm and pull you away from him.

“Come on,” Logan snapped, “we’re leaving.”

“What the hell are you doing here? What do you mean we?” You yelled back. You didn’t want to stay anywhere near that guy but you weren’t ready to leave either and sure as hell not with Logan dragging you out like an angry parent.

“Hey, she doesn’t really look like she wants to leave with you, man,” the other guy interjected, keeping a grip on you by looping his fingers through one of the belt loops on your pants.

“Yeah? She doesn’t want to stay with you either, jackass,” Logan moved his hand from your arm to hold your hand instead, “she’s not interested.”

What the hell had gotten into him? You felt like you were in the middle of a tug of war with two dogs.

“No one’s gonna fucking ask what I want, right?” You tried to complain, neither of them hearing you.

“Your little doggy girlfriend here was just about to take care of me. You mad about it?” The other guy laughed and you nearly lunged at him, Logan’s hand tugging you back. He intended to pull you away so he could get to him first, but Scott, Jean and Ororo jumped in just in time.

“Alright - enough, enough, we’re leaving!” Jean yelled, pushing you all towards the door, Logan dragging you the whole way. When you finally were out in the cool evening air, you angrily yanked your hand from his.

“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, turning to Logan, “and what the fuck was that?”

“What was that? You’re welcome - “

“I didn’t ask you to come save me - from what, having a good time?”

“Oh, yeah, it looked like you were having a lot of fun,” he scoffed, “he had you by the hip so hard he probably left a bruise.”

He instinctively reached his hand out to check and you swatted it away, “Don’t - Don’t touch me!”

None of them had ever heard you sound so pissed off and you’d definitely never snapped at Logan like that before.

You took a deep breath and reached down to slip off your shoes, leaving you barefoot on the concrete.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to the rest of them,” but why are you guys here?”

“You left without saying anything, we couldn’t find you and we wanted to be sure you were safe,” Ororo sighed, hugging you in relief, “we’re so glad you’re okay.”

You hugged her back.

“I just - I wanted to disappear for a while,” you explained apologetically, avoiding Jean and Scott’s gaze.

“Do you know how stupid it was to run off and not tell anyone where you were going?” Logan scolded you, but Jean clicked her tongue at him.

“Shut it! Enough from you! You’ve done enough damage control!”

The ride home was almost silent, your tired body slumped in the backseat between Scott and Jean, until Ororo spoke from the front passenger seat.

“Honey, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but,” she paused, thinking over her words, “what were you gonna do to that guy if we hadn’t stopped you?”

You understood what she meant immediately.

“What, you think I was going to kill him?” you asked, crossing your arms and leaning forward in your seat, “I wasn’t. I don’t do that unless I have to and you know even then I hate doing it.”

“I know…so, what were you doing with a guy like him anyway?” she asked, trying to move on from the question that had clearly made you upset, “he seemed kinda shady.”

Logan was gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were white, dreading the answer.

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at the synthetic fabric of your pants.

“Liked the attention, I guess,” you answered honestly, kind of hoping you could throw anyone off the idea of you being interested in Logan, “it’s been awhile since a guy has liked me like that.”

“He only wanted one thing from you anyway,” he scoffed from the front seat. Ororo glared at him, about to tell him to mind his business before you stopped her.

“And I can’t want it either?”

That shut everybody up and Ororo turned to him again, a look on her face that said ‘you asked, you got the answer’.

You tried to bolt to your room when you all got home but Logan was quick to follow, catching up with you to stand in your path in the hallway outside of your bedroom.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Leave me be.”

You tried to dodge around him but he stuck his arm out.

“Logan.”

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue speaking.

“Move.”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you tell me what’s going on with you. You don’t disappear like that, ever. And I wanna talk to you about last night - “

“There’s nothing to talk about. Goodnight,” you huffed, ducking under his arm and opening your door.

“I care about you, you know, I was worried,” he began to explain.

You tried to slam the door in his face but he stuck his foot out, jamming his boot between the door and the doorframe. You let go in defeat and turned away, gathering your pajamas as if he wasn’t in the room.

“Yeah? Why?,” you scoffed, trying with everything in you to bite your tongue but failing miserably, “I’m not your type of girl. What’s there to worry about?”

Logan’s face fell. He pushed the door closed behind him.

“Is that what this is about? That’s why you went out?”

“Why do you care?”

You still had your back to him, furiously shuffling through clothing in your dresser.

“Stop.”

You felt his hands on your arms as he came up behind you, paralyzing you in your spot.

You let him turn you around gently, almost chest to chest.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings -“

“I’m not.”

He leaned back a little to force you to look him in the eye.

“I only said that - listen, I only said that because - “ Logan paused, biting his lip till it nearly bled, but you shook your head and slipped by him again.

“Please, don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Logan.”

You sounded so exasperated, tears forming in your eyes when you turned your back to him.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “I only said that because I didn’t want you to like me.”

You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and turned back to him, a confused expression on your face.

“It worked, are you happy?”

“No, I’m not - “

“Well, guess it backfired. Get out of my room.”

You were face to face again, keeping your mouth in a tight line so your lip wouldn’t quiver. It felt stupid to cry in front of him, but you couldn’t really help it once it started.

“Oh, god, please, don’t cry,” he begged, leaning down and actually bringing a hand up to your face to wipe away a tear that rolled down your cheek. You wanted to smack it away, tell him again to just get the hell out , but you couldn’t.

“Why would you do that?” You mumbled out quietly, finally letting the overwhelming feeling of sadness cancel out any rage you had for him. You couldn’t look him in the eye again, concentrating on the throw rug you were standing on.

“I’m so sorry, princess, I am. I’m really fucking stupid,” he huffed.

You were surprised by the softness of his voice and finally tore your eyes from the floor. He’d called you that before, but usually in a teasing way. This time it sounded endearing, like a plea of your name.

“And what happened there, at the club? ‘She’s not interested’, what was that about?” You continued.

He sighed, still trying to figure out what exactly it was that he wanted to say. He realized there probably wasn’t much of a way to beat around the bush and he groaned, closing his eyes as he stood in front of you to make spilling his guts a little less agonizing.

“I like you - like you a lot, and I was an asshole because I figured if you hated me, you couldn’t like me back and it would save you the trouble.”

Hearing no response, he finally opened his eyes to see you still standing in the same spot, your lips parted.

“Save me the trouble of what?”

You were confused, your eyes narrowed as if you were angry.

“I don’t know…having to deal with me, I guess. I - I’ve never felt the way I feel about you for anyone else and it scares the shit out of me.”

You could hear him swallow hard, his eyes looking everywhere around the room except at you.

“And earlier, when we picked you up,” he continued, “I acted like that because I was jealous, alright? Can’t stand to see some asshole on you like that, and you were dressed all nice and - I don’t know.”

You’d never heard him sound so nervous in all the time you’d known him.

“You are my type of girl,” he finally choked out, “only type of girl I’d ever want.”

All you could do was inhale sharply, his words echoing in your mind.

“It’s alright if you hate me, I can’t say I really blame you. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

He began to walk out, convinced he’d fucked up beyond repair.

“Logan.”

Your voice stopped his hand from turning your doorknob and he turned back to you.

No longer crying, you tentatively stepped forward a bit, nervously playing with the front hem of your top.

“You’re not something to deal with, you know,” you muttered, letting your hair fall in front of your face.

You supposed this was the point where it was your turn to explain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Logan, probably since the day I walked in here and I just - I think I wanted someone to distract me so I wouldn’t wallow in self pity because you didn’t want me.”

“You were trying to get over me,” he realized aloud, a small smile on his face to hide the hurt, “I deserved that.”

After a moment of tense silence, he spoke again.

“Did it work?”

His voice was low and soft, a tone you’d rarely heard him speak with.

You pursed your lips and finally lifted your head, taking a deep breath.

“No. I don’t think it was ever going to, either,” you laughed a little, “when that guy asked me to dance, the first thing I thought of was that he didn’t look anything like you.”

Your voice trailed off a little at the end, a little embarrassed to confess that even if Logan had already flat out told you he was interested in you.

Without another word, he came close enough to reach for your hands and gently intertwine your fingers with his. He cleared his throat, nervously chewing his bottom lip before he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

You must have had this dream a million times over, waking up night after night and feeling so empty because none of it was real. But now, with his hands in yours, it was very real.

You eagerly pressed your lips to his, not wanting to waste another second. His lips were soft and you were encompassed in the scent of his body wash and cologne, smelling of pine and cedar wood. You brought your hands up to play with his hair at the back of his head. Logan moved his arms to wrap around your waist, pulling you further into him.

When you finally pulled away from each other, you were both smiling like idiots.

“We should’ve done that much sooner,” you giggled.

“Agreed.”

His fingers traced small circles on the exposed skin of your back, making you shiver.

He kissed you again, this time with much more intensity. It wasn’t long before your tongues were in each other's mouths and you both had fumbled yourselves over to the end of your bed.

“Wanted you for so long,” he mumbled between kissing your neck and jaw, his hands still sliding up and down your back, “I was so stupid.”

“We both were,” you giggled a little, cut short into a moan when he licked your neck all the way from your collarbone to under your ear.

“L-Logan,” you gasped, unable to hide your blushing face.

He hummed into your neck, bringing his mouth to your ear, “Can I show you how sorry I am? Let me make it up to you.”

His voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you let him pull you onto him to straddle his lap, lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

“Mmm, uh-huh,” you hummed, mouth hung open as he sucked light marks into your neck.

“You have to use your words, pretty girl,” he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours. He cupped your jaw tenderly, almost as if you’d disappear if he let go.

Before you could answer, he moved his hands to drag your hips over his, grunting when he felt the pressure.

“Y-yes, yeah - please,” you choked out between moans, tugging his hair harder every time he pushed and pulled your hips.

“Please what, baby?”

“You - you can make it up to me,” you groaned into his neck.

He effortlessly lifted you by your thighs and laid you with your back to the bed. You untucked his white t-shirt from his jeans as he crawled over you, desperate to get your hands underneath it. You lightly scratched your nails along his back, making him groan into your ear. He kissed down your neck to the center of your chest, gently slipping his fingers under the hem of your top and around the back.

“Can I take this off you, baby?”

You were already sitting up before he could finish his sentence, reaching to try and untie the knot at the back of your neck.

“Eager, huh?”, he chuckled, “let me, sweetheart.”

He wrapped his arms around your lower back to tug at the knot, feeling it come loose in his hands. He snaked his hands up to the back of your neck, doing the same to the tied strings there. When it came loose, the only thing holding the piece of fabric to you was his hands at the back of your neck. He let it slip from his fingers, a smirk on his face when it fell completely.

You threw the garment somewhere to the floor and tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, bringing him down with you as laid back again and pressed your lips to his. He pulled back for a moment to yank his shirt off and immediately return his mouth to yours, making his way down to your neck. He brought both his hands to your chest and swept his thumbs over your hard nipples, eventually bringing his lips to them and sucking.

“Ah - Logan,” you whined, making him smile against your skin.

“I like it when you say my name, pretty girl,” he mumbled, dragging his fingers down your sides and hooking them into the waistband of your pants. He kissed all the way down to your hips, moving himself to lay on his stomach with his head between your thighs.

Before he could ask you if it was alright to rid you of them, you were already unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your hips and thighs. He took them off the rest of the way for you and you kicked your panties off with them.

He hooked his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, licking his lips and resting his cheek on the inside of your thigh.

“I thought about you a lot, you know - like this,” he huffed, his warm breath fanning over your pussy.

You had your hands in his hair already, swiping fallen strands of hair out of his face.

“I thought about you like this, too,” you admitted, sighing as he started to plant kisses right above where you wanted him the most.

“Yeah?”

His teasing voice brought goosebumps to your skin and you nodded, gasping when you finally felt his lips graze your clit.

“This what you think about when you fuck yourself?” He mumbled into you, the vibration of his voice making you tighten your grip in his hair. He growled like an animal, trying to push you even further into his mouth by the grip on your thighs.

You were trying to choke out an answer, distracted by the wet sounds of him messily eating you out.

“Y - ah, yes, yeah - not as good as the real thing, though.”

He laughed with his mouth still attached to you and you tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him in place.

He could have spent hours with his mouth to your cunt, practically fucking you with his tongue while you whined his name.

A knock on your door sounded through the room, the both of you freezing in place.

“Hey, I just wanted to check on you. Are you feeling okay?”

It was Scott.

You grimaced, thankful at the very least that your door was locked, but Logan had a terribly smug smirk on his face.

“Y-yeah, I’m alright, just - just tired,” you managed to choke out, stuttering when you felt two of his fingers slip into you effortlessly.

“You sure?”

You sighed, hating and loving Logan at the same time for what he was doing.

“Yup, th-thank you, m’ jus’ gonna go to bed.”

Scott responded with a goodnight and you groaned in relief when you heard him walk away.

Logan was curling his fingers inside of you, still lapping at your pussy and letting you use your grip on his hair to angle his head however you wanted him. You felt the pressure in your lower stomach rise and you tried to warn him, tugging on the hair on the back of his head.

“Logan, I’m - “

“C’mon, pretty girl, c’mon.”

His encouragement sent you over the edge, euphoria blooming from your lower stomach and spreading through you. You had to cover your mouth to muffle your pornographic moans, but Logan reached up to tug your wrist.

“Uh-uh, wanna hear you, beautiful,” he mumbled into you, practically pushing your thighs even further around his head.

“Fuck, L-Logan, too - too sensitive,” you stuttered out, trying to pull his face away by his hair and failing miserably because of his grip around your thighs.

He eventually reluctantly detached himself and crawled back on top of you, sucking the taste of you off his fingers.

“I could do that for hours, you know, if you let me,” he groaned, pulling your hips up to him so you could feel the weight of his hard cock underneath his jeans.

Still sensitive, you reactively gripped his biceps and dug your fingernails into his skin. You were going to apologize and were quickly cut off by the guttural moan he let out into the side of your neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned, rocking his hips against yours.

“You’re into pain, huh?”

You figured it was your turn to tease him, dragging your fingernails from his shoulders all the way down his back.

“You’re gonna pay for that, pretty girl,” he grunted, moving quickly to undo his belt and strip himself of the rest of his clothing.

When his cock sprung up and hit his stomach as he took off his boxers, you swallowed hard; already feeling a wanting ache in your stomach again. You figured he was big - he was already a tall guy, after all - but he was far bigger than any guy you’d ever seen. Logan noticed the way you bit your lower lip, resting himself on top of you again and bringing his thumb up to pull your lip from under your teeth.

“What, are you nervous? It’s alright sweetheart, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His voice was so soft and gentle, a tone you rarely ever heard from him.

You could feel the weight of his cock against your inner thigh, heavy and already leaking.

“ ‘m not nervous, I want you, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist. You reached your hand between your bodies to line him up with your entrance, trying to push him in with your legs around his waist.

“You sure?” he huffed, trying with every muscle in his body to not slam into you in one thrust.

You nodded eagerly, scratching at his lower back.

Logan couldn’t help himself and gave in, slipping himself into you.

“So tight,” he groaned into your neck, pushing himself in even further.

“You - fuck - you’re so fucking big,” you admitted truthfully, nearly drooling at the feeling of him stretching you out.

“Feels good?”

It was hard for him to speak when you were so wet that he was nearly slipping out of you as he gently rocked his hips back and forth, trying to be gentle and let you adjust to his size.

“Mm - uh-uh,” you hummed, gasping each time he pushed further.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he huffed and you groaned, digging your nails into him.

“Y-yes, yeah - want you all the way in,” you whimpered.

That was all it took for him to be buried in you, grinding his hips into yours so that you were pinned to the mattress.

He worked up to a devastating pace, practically slamming your headboard into the wall.

“S-someone’s gonna - someone’s gonna hear us,” you managed to gasp out, out of breath every time he filled you and pulled back again.

“Don’t care, let ‘em,” he pressed his forehead to yours, bringing a hand up to your face to affectionately cup your cheek. It was so sweet and almost disgustingly hot, the caring gesture contrasting the intense feeling of him repeatedly slamming into the sensitive spot inside of you.

He really didn’t have a care in the world about who heard you both, far too lost in the feeling of finally being able to have you under him like that. You had sweat soaked strands of hair stuck to your face, your eyes squeezed shut, and he was almost sure you’d never looked more beautiful.

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, his thumb swiping your bottom lip. He had an idea, one he’d considered many times when he thought of you under him like this.

“Bite me.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, threading your hand through his hair, “are you sure?”

“Please.”

You forcibly unsheathed your fangs, letting them tentatively poke at his thumb that was still to your lips.

He moved his hand to your throat, resting it there without tightening his grip.

“Please.”

His pleading had the heat in your lower stomach rising and you obliged, sinking your teeth into his shoulder. You felt guilty - you didn’t enjoy hurting people - until he was whimpering in your ear, moaning your name over and over again.

You bit his neck, his shoulders, his lip - all the small puncture wounds healing themselves within seconds.

Having him so pussy drunk and groaning praises into your ear brought the pressure in your lower stomach to a max and you cried out his name, letting him fuck you through your second orgasm.

“ ‘s good, huh, princess? Come on me, c’mon,” he was begging, feeling your muscles tense around him. That drove him over the edge, his hips rutting into you and his thrusts becoming sloppy. He finally let himself go, filling you and letting it drip from you onto the sheets. He pulled back a little to see the mess you had both made, your inner thighs painted with a mix of his release and yours. He went to pull out completely and you clamped your thighs around his hips again, keeping him still.

“Want me to stay?”

“Mhm - please.”

The sexual tension was replaced with loving comfort, Logan keeping you to his chest as he laid you both on your side. His chin rested on the top of your head and your face was against his chest with your eyes closed. You smiled at the thump of his heartbeat in your ear, nearly letting it put you to sleep.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he mumbled into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head, “you know I love you?”

The last three words made your eyes shoot open and you looked up at him, worried you’d misheard him or maybe he was just messing with you.

“Really?”

“Of course. You think I would’ve done that with you if I wasn’t in love?”

You thought hard for a second, realizing he was right. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had hookups before, but it had been quite a long time since he’d bothered to even get to know someone like that. He wasn’t the type to lead you on, either - always up front with you, even if he didn’t have to be.

“I love you too,” you answered, unable to hide the wide smile on your face.

“I should’ve told you much sooner,” he sighed, his eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into him again.

Before you could both fall asleep from exhaustion, he yanked the comforter over the both of you, hearing you mumble sleepily.

“You can make it up to me some more.”

───────♡──────────────♡───────

A/N: If you made it to the end I love you <3 pls lmk what you think and reblog+like if you enjoyed!! also still navigating how to write smut without using cringe terminology so forgive me if that part sucks

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine

5K notes · View notes

foxtrology · 4 months ago

Text

sweet sweet baby (since you've been gone)

harry castillo x reader

series

warnings: no y/n, 28 year age gap, female reader.

The last time he had gone up to a woman was at a wedding reception and it ended terribly for him.

Lucy was her name.

He had thought she was the one. All the time they had spent together, all the nights he held her, it was all for nothing. In the end he was the one left behind while she and that broke fucking waiter—oh how much he hated that broke waiter with a fucking passion—ran off into the sunset all happily.

John.

John was his name. Living in a rundown studio apartment with a struggling college student as a roommate. Yeah, what a fucking life she decided to choose.

He still follows her on Instagram.

An Instagram she begged for him to have. He valued his privacy. Being a successful CEO had its perks but it also had his downsides. Privacy was a major downside. He's lucky if a week has gone by without The New York Times calling his office.

Something he should've done a long time ago was delete Instagram and move on from Lucy, but of course he loves to make things more difficult for himself.

19lucy89 has posted a photo!

He should've at least turn off the notifications notifying him of her posting but he couldn't do it. He still wasn't over her. Scrolling on the social media app had him scoffing.

She had posted a photo of her and that broke waiter kissing.

"Whiskey neat."

Harry slips his phone back into his pocket, thanking the bartender. Sliding off the barstool, he glances at all the couples around him. He rolls his eyes.

Since when is everyone fucking dating? Everywhere he goes it's always a couple canoodling. It pisses him off.

Getting back to his table, Danny slaps Harry on his back as he sits down. He cringes as the hand hits his back. He's always had back problems but never acknowledged them.

Not until Lucy. She made him start seeing a chiropractor.

But since she's out of his life, he has been ignoring his pains and ignoring his chiropractor’s calls. She didn't care anymore so why should he.

"Dude Vanessa and everybody are going to an afterparty—"

"Is this not an afterparty?" Harry furrows his brows, interrupting his partygoer friend.

Danny shakes his head playfully, scoffing. "Any excuse to continue drinking, am I right?"

He really didn't want to spend another hour at a party. He's 54 for god's sake, he done.

He's old. He's an old man.

He gets cranky if he doesn't go to sleep at a certain time, he gets aggravated when he pushes paperwork aside leaving it to the last minute, he hated pleasing his friends who have been trying to get him out more ever since the whole Lucy thing happened.

He's leaving, he wants to go home.

"I think I'll be heading—" Then his phone vibrating in his coat pocket stops him.

Maybe Lucy texted him?

Fuck he's so delusional.

"Actually I'm gonna head out. I have a lot of paperwork." Harry stands up, pulling out his phone.

Danny furrows his brows at his friend.

"But you didn't even touch your drink?"

Harry tells him he has liquor at his place, he can finish his drink at home, not here. He doesn't bother to say any goodbyes to any of his friends. They won't remember it anyways.

He hurriedly swipes open his phone as the cold air hits his face.

19lucy89 has added onto their stories!

Clicking onto her profile made him sick.

He should have deleted Instagram.

He should have blocked her.

But he wasn't strong enough.

She posted a video.

Though it wasn't just any other video. The video showed John on his left knee holding up a ring.

He was fucking proposing.

It was like his whole world came tumbling down.

He had never felt this sick in his life.

Harry used to hate the way rich people would talk about money. They used to say money isn't everything, how it doesn't solve anything and it isn't happiness.

He begged to differ.

He didn't grow up with much. His mother struggled especially.

She was sick and wasn't financially stable for treatment so she died.

He used to think that if they had money she would still be here.

He never told anyone about it. Never spoke about the situation, he always tried to ignore it. Until Lucy came around.

She was the only person he confided in. He cried in her arms.

He didn't understand how she could just leave so easily. He remembers the night she told him, they were in the kitchen when she spoke the truth about how she was still in love with John.

She had said that he was the one that got away and that they needed each other.

She packed up her clothes and left his penthouse.

And that was it.

And now he’s standing outside The Met at 54 years old, pathetically hung up on a woman who left him for some broke waiter in a studio apartment that probably has one fucking bathroom.

A couple bumping into him made him come back to earth. He mutters an apology for blocking the entrance.

Another fucking couple.

He shoves his phone into his pocket with too much force, rolling his shoulders as he takes the steps two at a time, the cold air biting against his skin.

Only Vanessa Garnier would throw a goddamn dinner party at The Met.

He needs to go home.

Needs to drink.

Needs to pretend he didn’t just witness the woman he once loved agreeing to marry a broke fucking waiter.

Harry is already pissed off as he stomps down the Met steps. He’s just trying to leave this godforsaken party, get home, and drown himself in whiskey while pretending he doesn’t care about Lucy’s engagement.

Then—he sees her.

She’s sitting on the steps wrapped up in her own world, scrolling her phone.

She’s alone. Not giggling into her phone like the socialites inside, not throwing herself at men with trust funds bigger than their personalities.

Just…sitting.

And for some reason, it annoys him.

"You’re in my spot."

It wasn't his spot but he was annoyed.

Maybe he was annoyed of seeing people who aren't miserable like him.

She barely looks up.

Just a quick flick of her eyes from her phone to the man standing in front of her, assessing him in a single glance before exhaling softly through her nose—unimpressed and unbothered.

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Since he was already irritated, already on edge, already a step away from either throwing his phone into the street or smashing it against the nearest wall—he stood there, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come.

Nothing.

No wide eyes.

No forced politeness.

No recognition.

Just a woman sitting on the steps of The Met, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there.

His jaw ticked.

"Did you hear me?"

She sighed—actually sighed—as if he was the one disturbing her.

Well he kind of was.

Finally, she lifted her head, phone still in her hand, her gaze settling on him with all the enthusiasm of someone being asked to do a survey on the street.

"Yeah. I heard you."

His brow furrowed. He waited.

She didn’t move.

Didn’t shift.

Didn’t apologize.

Didn’t give him an inch of what he was used to—deference, nervous laughter, people scrambling to please him just because of who he was.

Instead, she blinked once slow and deliberate before tilting her head slightly to the side.

"Pretty sure the city owns these steps."

Harry clenched his teeth.

Of course.

Of course, he’d have to deal with this tonight.

This was not his night.

This was not his fucking night.

He didn’t even know why he was still standing there, why he hadn’t just turned and left. He should be in his car by now, should be halfway home with a drink already in his hand.

But for some reason he wasn’t.

For some reason he sat down instead.

A slow, deliberate movement. A shift of his coat as he lowered himself onto the step beside her, his knee brushing against the fabric of her own red coat as he exhaled sharply.

Her brow lifted slightly, her grip on her phone tightening for a moment as if she was considering whether to acknowledge his presence or simply ignore him altogether.

She settled on the latter.

Good.

Fine.

He didn’t want to talk anyway.

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the street with the same burning resentment that had been sitting in his chest since he walked out of that party.

Another fucking couple passed by.

Laughing. Whispering. Holding hands like they were the only two people in the world.

His grip tightened around his knee. His mouth pressed into a firm thin line.

He should be at home.

He should be anywhere but here.

Instead, he was sitting on the cold steps of The Met beside a stranger who didn’t care that he was Harry fucking Castillo.

He scoffed.

The sound must have been louder than he intended, because this time—she looked at him.

Actually looked at him.

Not just a glance. Not just a flicker of vague recognition before returning to her phone.

No—she studied him, just for a second.

And then…the corner of her mouth twitched.

Not a smile. Not exactly. But close enough.

Close enough for something inside of him to tighten, for his stomach to knot in that irritating way he didn’t like.

She turned back to her phone.

"Rough night?"

He huffed out a sharp breath, shaking his head adjusting his tie even though it wasn’t loose.

"Something like that."

She hummed. Hummed. Like she wasn’t even surprised.

Like she already knew that about him.

Like she had already figured him out.

His teeth clenched.

She didn’t know him.

She didn’t know anything about him.

"What?" His voice was sharper than intended.

She barely reacted. Just tapped her thumb against her screen, scrolling absentmindedly before murmuring

"Nothing."

But it wasn’t nothing.

It was something.

It was definitely fucking something.

Harry exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his exhaustion settle deeper into his bones.

This night was never going to end, was it?

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

The sounds of the city hummed around them. Car horns. Distant conversations. The occasional roar of an engine as someone sped down Fifth Avenue.

And then—

"You gonna sit here all night?"

Harry turned his head slightly, catching the amused glint in her eyes as she finally looked at him again.

"Depends," he muttered. "You gonna move?"

She smirked. "Nope."

He exhaled.

Rolled his shoulders.

Ignored the way something unsettled was shifting in his chest.

"Guess I’m staying, then."

And for the first time in a long time—he didn’t mind.

That realization alone should have pissed him off. Should have made him get up, adjust his coat, and leave like he had originally planned.

But he stayed.

The cold air pressed against his skin, sneaking beneath his collar, curling around his fingers where they rested against his knee. The whiskey from earlier still burned slightly in the back of his throat, though it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, to settle the restless storm churning inside his chest.

The silence stretched.

Not an uncomfortable one, surprisingly. But an unfamiliar one.

People didn’t let silence sit with him. They filled it, rushed to fix it, scrambled to find something clever or charming or useful to say because people who sat next to him were always trying to get something from him.

The woman sitting next to him, scrolling through her phone like he wasn’t even there. Like he was just another insignificant part of the city.

That part should have pissed him off.

But it didn’t.

It intrigued him.

He tilted his head slightly, just enough to catch the faint reflection of her screen. Not because he cared what she was looking at—he didn’t—but because he needed a distraction. Any distraction.

A taxi app.

She was waiting for a ride.

She was leaving.

Good.

Great.

That meant he wouldn’t have to sit here much longer, wouldn’t have to keep pretending like this wasn’t some strange, unexplainable moment in his otherwise predictable night.

He could go home, pour himself a drink, scroll through Lucy’s Instagram like a fucking idiot, and pretend he wasn’t still furious.

But—

He didn’t want her to leave.

Not yet.

Not before he figured out why the hell he was still sitting here.

Not before he figured out why she wasn’t miserable like him.

His gaze flicked to her hands, the way she tapped at her screen absentmindedly like she wasn’t in a hurry, wasn’t anxious about the time, wasn’t dreading the ride home.

He wanted to ask where she was going.

He didn’t.

Instead, he spoke before he thought.

"Where do you live?"

She didn’t react at first.

Just kept scrolling.

Then without looking up.

"That’s a weird thing to ask a stranger."

Harry exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

"You’re waiting for a cab."

Finally, she turned to him, brow raised. "And?"

He rolled his shoulders, voice even. "I’ll take you home."

A beat of silence.

Then—

She laughed.

Not a giggle. Not a polite chuckle. A real, unfiltered laugh.

Like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

Harry’s expression did not change.

"I wasn’t joking."

That just made her laugh harder.

She shook her head, lips twitching as she locked her phone and slid it into her pocket, finally—finally—giving him her full attention.

"You, a man who I met ten minutes ago, are offering to take me home."

Harry blinked, unfazed.

"Yes."

"In your car?"

"Yes."

She exhaled, shaking her head again.

"This is the part where I ask if you're a serial killer."

He smirked, dry and humorless. "Would a serial killer offer?"

"Maybe a dumb one."

He scoffed. "Do I look dumb to you?"

She considered him for a moment. Then—

"A little bit."

Harry almost smiled.

Almost.

Instead, he sighed adjusting the sleeve of his coat as he stared out at the street again.

"Look, I don’t care where you live. I don’t care what you do. And I don’t care if you take the cab or not. But it’s late and I have a driver waiting." He paused. "Take the ride. Or don’t."

She studied him for a moment.

Not like the people at the party, not like the women who assessed him as a prize, a trophy, a walking investment.

No, she was studying him like she was still trying to figure out if he was serious.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why offer?"

Harry clenched his jaw.

Good question.

Why had he?

Because he was restless.

Because he didn’t want to be alone.

Because he wasn’t ready for the night to end.

But he didn’t say any of that.

Instead he said, "Because I can."

She hummed at that, something unreadable passing over her face.

Then to his absolute fucking surprise

She stood.

Pulled her coat tighter around herself.

Looked down at him with a grin.

"Lead the way, then."

The Maybach was parked at the curb, sleek and expensive and definitely out of place for a random stranger sitting on museum steps.

His driver, James barely batted an eye when Harry pulled open the door and gestured for her to get in first.

She hesitated.

Just for a moment.

And then—

She slid into the seat like she did this every day.

Harry followed, closing the door behind them.

James glanced at him through the rearview mirror, silent, waiting.

Harry exhaled, glancing at her.

"Where to?"

She gave him a look.

"Aren't you supposed to be a gentleman and ask for my name first?"

He huffed. "You never asked for mine."

"Because I don’t care."

His lips twitched. "Then why get in the car?"

She leaned back against the leather seat, legs crossed, gaze flicking out the window.

"Because I wanted to see if you'd actually do it."

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he gave James the silent cue to start driving.

This was insane.

He should have just gone home.

Should have just let her take the damn cab.

But now—he was in a car with a woman who didn’t care who he was, nor his money, didn’t even seem remotely fazed by the fact that she was sitting in a million dollar car with a man who could buy out half the city.

And for the first time all night...

Lucy’s engagement didn’t feel like the worst thing that had happened to him.

The car pulled away from the curb, merging smoothly into the flow of late night Manhattan traffic. The soft hum of the engine filled the space between them, a quiet luxury that most people would have fawned over.

But not her.

She wasn’t running her fingers over the leather seats, wasn’t sneaking glances at him, wasn’t pretending to be indifferent while stealing curious looks.

She just stared out the window, completely at ease.

Harry tilted his head slightly, studying her side profile.

"You still haven’t told me where you live."

She blinked, turning back to him, almost as if she’d forgotten he was even there.

"Oh. Right." She exhaled, stretching her arms slightly before dropping them into her lap. "I’ll just have your driver drop me off at the corner of—"

"Not James." His voice was firm, sharp in a way he didn’t expect.

She raised a brow.

"What?"

"Tell me."

A slow smirk curled at her lips, amusement flickering in her gaze.

"Are you always this controlling?"

"Are you always this difficult?"

Her smirk widened slightly, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned to the front of the car.

"Excuse me, take me to—"

"Don’t talk to my driver."

She whipped her head back to him, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"He’s not your driver."

She let out a small, sharp laugh, shaking her head.

"You’re serious?"

"Very."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something else there, something interested.

She sighed, crossing her arms, "Fine. Since you clearly need to be the one in control, Lower East Side."

He barely nodded before shifting his gaze back toward the front.

James, wordlessly, made a turn.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Harry leaned back against his seat, stretching out his legs, exhaling slowly as the tension from earlier in the night settled into something quieter.

The city moved past them in streaks of light, taxis cutting through traffic, pedestrians still wandering the streets like the night would never end.

She stayed turned toward the window, her fingers mindlessly tapping against her knee.

The silence should have been comfortable.

But it wasn’t.

Not for him.

Because he was still thinking.

Thinking about Lucy. Thinking about how stupid he felt for still checking her Instagram. Thinking about how much he hated the feeling of losing.

But also—thinking about her.

This woman.

This stranger who got into his car without a second thought, who didn’t care about his money, who didn’t care about him.

That part was what unsettled him the most.

Because he was used to being recognized. Used to being admired, envied, feared.

But she?

She was just here.

Like he was just another man.

Like he wasn’t anything at all.

And for some reason—he wasn’t sure he hated that.

She broke the silence first. "So, what’s your deal?"

Harry exhaled, rolling his head to the side slightly.

"My deal?"

"Yeah." She waved a hand vaguely. "You seem miserable."

"You say that like it’s an observation."

"It is."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Maybe I just don’t like parties."

"Nope."

He arched a brow.

"No?"

"Not just parties. Life."

Harry’s jaw tightened. "Bold assumption."

"Accurate assumption."

His gaze flicked toward her, sharp, assessing.

She met it without hesitation.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then she shrugged.

"Look, I don’t know what rich guy problems you have but you were sitting on those steps like someone had either ruined your life or just rejected your marriage proposal."

Harry stilled.

His fingers twitched slightly against his knee, his pulse slow, heavy.

She didn’t know how close she was.

How dangerously fucking close.

She didn’t know about Lucy. About the proposal he never got to make. About much time he spent believing he was enough only to realize that he wasn’t.

She didn’t know anything.

But she still saw right through him.

And that?

That pissed him off.

"Maybe I just wanted some fresh air." His voice was clipped, sharp.

"Sure." She smirked, looking out the window again. "And maybe I’m a billionaire, too."

Harry inhaled, slow and deep, rolling his head back against the seat, eyes flickering up toward the roof of the car.

"You’re insufferable."

"So I’ve been told."

For a moment, it was quiet again.

Then—

"Was it a girl?"

His brow furrowed.

"What?"

"The reason you were brooding." She tilted her head slightly. "Was it a girl?"

His fingers clenched.

She smirked.

"It was, wasn’t it?"

He clenched his jaw.

"Not everything is about a woman."

"I never said it was." She lifted a shoulder. "You just confirmed it, though."

Harry exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face.

This was insane.

She was insane.

Why was he even still talking to her?

Why hadn’t he just dropped her off and left?

"I don’t do small talk." His voice was firm.

"Good. Me neither."

Then—silence.

Not uncomfortable.

Not forced.

Just…there.

The car slowed as they reached her street.

She shifted slightly, sitting up, unfastening her seatbelt as James pulled over.

For a second, Harry felt something strange.

Something he didn’t want to name.

She reached for the door handle, but before she could push it open—

"Wait."

She paused.

Glanced back at him. Brows lifted, waiting.

Harry swallowed.

"Let me take you to dinner."

Silence.

Her head tilted, lips curving up at the corners. "Are you asking or telling?"

"Does it matter?"

She smirked.

"I guess not."

She pushed the door open, stepping out into the cold.

Harry watched her go, watched as she turned, hands stuffed into her pockets, eyes unreadable as she met his gaze one last time.

Then—

"If you find me again, maybe I’ll say yes."

And just like that—

She was gone.

Harry sat there for a long moment.

Watched the empty space where she had been.

Felt the quiet weight of something new settle over him.

And for the first time in years, he found himself hoping—

That he’d see her again.

And knowing, somehow—

That he would.

#harry castillo #harry castillo x reader #materialists #materialists fanfic #harry castillo x you #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller writing #joel miller x y/n #joel tlou #pedro pascal fandom #the materialists #the materialists fanfic

1K notes · View notes

gis3lla · 4 months ago

Text

seriously didn't mean it.

“seriously. stop chasing after me you freak,” is what he said after you had given him the 4th lunch for the week. your hands still offered that bento box out when he let out another grunt, hating how stupid you looked, chasing after him. you sighed as you shoved the bento box into his chest. you couldn't help it though. you liked him ever since you laid your eyes on him, almost like love at first sight. an angel sent to earth by Cupid.

“i made this myself. its all of your favorites!” you cheerfully said as he took the bento box in a harsh manner. when you exited the room, he quickly dumped everything out and shoved the box back into his bag. you weren't always the best at giving gifts, but you figured cooking, something you loved, was going to do the trick. you had spent weeks researching the yummiest dishes and complied them together for him.

it was during class. the teacher had placed you behind him, and he was furious. he hated how he was stuck with you every single day, every single hour. it was miserable. you kept bugging him, asking him about his day, about the bento box you had made him, and asked if he would like to eat anything else. he of course, declined. at the end of class, he had given you an empty bento box and left the classroom.

you were at his practice again. he can't stand you anymore, it's almost like if he saw you one more time he would explode in everyone's faces. you were nice to his teammates though. you always brought snacks and drinks for everyone, and made everyone laughed. well everyone except for him. he was stubbornly in the corner trying to get some peace while everyone else was laughing.

the final straw is when you followed him home. he hated how you were constantly trailing behind him everywhere, always talking. god how he wishes how you would just shut up for once. after explaining how awesome the new book you both were reading in class today, he finally snapped. he yelled at you. he confessed how he wished you would shut up and stop bothering him. how he threw away all of those lunches you spent weeks researching and testing to perfect the recipe.

you just stood there shocked and surprised about what he had just said, not processing anything, until it finally gets in your head. he doesn't like you. he thinks you're annoying. that is when you walked off to your own house, not even bothering to listen to him when he called your name.

the next day, you never paid any attention to him. he should feel relieved and relaxed that you weren't talking to him anymore, but he doesn't. he ignored the feeling at first. maybe you were just upset at him because of his outbreak, and then go back to annoying him next week.

except, when next week came, you came into class, silent. no tapping him in the back, no asking for pencils. you had brought your own. to be honest, you were scaring him with the way your giving him the silent treatment. when the bell rang for lunch, you never took out another bento box for him to have, the one reserved for him wasn't in your hands anymore when he looked at you walking away to talk to another friend of yours. maybe it was all normal, which is what he told himself.

by the start of the second week, he was genuinely questioning himself. why did he all of a sudden care when you stopped giving him attention? he was honestly frustrated with himself as he was feeling an emotion he had never felt before. was he possibly, in love with you? no. that's what he tried telling himself until his best friend smacked him back into reality when he saw you talking to another guy. that's when he knew he had to make it right.

the next morning you opened the door to find him waiting. you raised a brow as he handed you a small little trinket for your bag. "i heard that girls like these things.." he said shyly has you took the trinket from his hand. you thanked him, then walked off without waiting for him. an act that stung his heart a little, unlike before.

during lunch time, he had followed you to the secret staircase where you would eat lunch alone while finding different recipes to try and cook, but this time it was awkward with you sitting across from him. you both sat in silence while he tried to think of something to start a conversation. "so why did you start cooking?" he asked as you continued to eat. you never told him, you just stared at him, not willing to tell him that you only cooked because of him.

after school, he asked you to show up to practice again. he used the reason for his teammates missing you to make you show up. you were hesitant, but decided to go since you did miss them.

he kept going like this for weeks. shared lunches, he even asked you to start making lunch for him again, saying that his mom was too busy to make lunch for him. he walked home with you, and occasionally bought small key chains or trinkets for you. you didn't want to admit it, but you were slowly falling for him and his tricks again. not to be labeled as annoying again.

"I seriously don't know what you want from me, but I'm trying not to be annoying to you," you had said when you two were walking home from school. he froze, not realizing how much his words had an impact on you. "sorry, I genuinely didn't mean it. I was just tired that day," he had said quietly as he felt heat rushing to his cheeks. was it the right time to confess? it has only been a few months.

"i'm trying to get over you. so please stop," you said coldly as you started to pull out everything he has given you over the past weeks. he panicked, not wanting to go no contact again,"I like you. I'm sorry I was wrong."

then you both paused. maybe you haven't lost your chances yet.

characters: tsukishima, kenma, iwaizumi (?), suna, ushijima, semi, shirabu, kageyama, any character of your choice!

note: hello everyone! thank you all for the support!! i'll try and post whenever i can, but I might not at times due to my workload. if you have anything to request, please feel free to, I would love ideas. please interact!! you guys are all so sweet, thank you for reading and I hope you have an amazing day/night <3

1K notes · View notes

shinhyunjin · 4 months ago

Text

── .✦ fan service.

⟢ pairing: bang chan x female!reader

⟢ genre: fluff, idolverse, friends to lovers (kind of)

⟢ word count: 2.3k

⟢ summary: when you and chan were expected to do tons of fan service because of how much your fans loved your interactions, it was only fair to take a little advantage of it at times.

⟢ author’s note: helloo, this is a request from @cant-see-sam, who asked for “something where she gets protective over one of her younger members and chan is just like one the corner giggling and kicking his feet” hehe. i don’t know if this is close to what you had in mind, but i enjoyed writing it and i hope you enjoy reading it<3

“Loverboy’s staring again” your second to oldest member, Kyungmi, let you know with a smirk.

She didn’t need to mention who was staring at you for you to know it was Chan, and you loved the thought of it so much that you found yourself fighting the smile that threatened with curving up the corners of your mouth.

“Don’t call him that” you murmured.

“He is, though” she pushed it, looking over your shoulder to the idol she was shamelessly throwing under the bus. “All he can see from over there is your back, yet he’s been stealing glances every two minutes”.

“Kyungie…” you warned her, carefully looking around and making sure there were no cameras pointing at your table—thankfully, there weren’t any. “There are cameras everywhere,” you reminded her regardless. “Be careful with what you say”.

She shrugged, lying back on her chair as her eyes went to the Award’s stage in front, which was now filled with staff members rushing from one side to the other as they prepared it for the next group to perform.

“There’s nothing interesting happening over here right now, they won’t bother filming us just yet”.

“Still…” you leaned back on your chair as well. “There are fans in the venue”.

“And they love your interactions with him!”

Rolling your eyes at her cynical excitement, you remained quiet—her words being far too truthful for you to even try and deny them.

Openly being friends with an idol of the opposite sex was always a hit or miss—people either loved it and asked for more interactions, or they hated it and wanted you to stay as far away from each other as possible.

Luckily for you and Chan, his fans, as well as yours, had loved your friendship ever since he first mentioned you in one of his weekly lives back in the day.

He didn’t think much of it when he did, as he had mentioned a handful of other idols before. He simply read a comment asking if he got along with the girl group that had recently debuted under JYPE—that being your group—and his genuine answer ended up with him bringing you up; mentioning how out of all the members he was the closest to you, since you were the leader and, as a very inexperienced one who wanted to do her best, you used to turn to him for advice.

That simple mention of your name was all it took for the fans to go wild, asking for more and more interactions between the two of you as the time went on, to the point the company itself would make sure to put the two of you together for dance challenges, variety shows, special stages, and whatnot.

It was fan service at its finest—until it was not.

You were both human, at the end of the day. It didn’t take long for the two of you to discover how much you had in common, and the chemistry you shared was so strong that it was impossible to ignore. And so, what started with your company forcing you together for clout, ended up with the two of you becoming closer than they expected.

What started with casual corridor conversations soon turned into daily chats over texts and casual video calls, where you would talk about anything but work, and you would find yourself blushing over his dorky—yet smooth as hell—way with words.

Just like that, although most of your interactions in front of the cameras were planned by the company in order to make your fandoms happy and increase your groups’ popularity, sometimes even taking it one step further by telling you what to do or say, since both you and Chan were quite private and definitely needed a push or two to act in front of everyone the same way you did when the cameras were off, it came a point when you simply let loose.

Fan service or not, whether it seemed too much to the viewers or not, you started to act just as close as you were regardless of there being cameras pointing at you or not.

A dream for many, as not all idols got to publicly interact with each other without having either rumours or hate spreading all over.

Unfortunately for you, however, sometime along the way of your forced proximity, bickering turned into flirting and friendly smiles turned into heart eyes—each day making it harder for both of you to hide your growing feelings from the media.

That seemed to be the case for Chan that night, as he found his eyes being drawn to you every couple of minutes. But what else was he supposed to do when your table was right next to theirs, and his seat gave him the perfect view of you? Well, the perfect view of your back, but still of you nevertheless.

And, well, you weren’t doing any better either, for you found yourself turning around to look at him after Kyungmi stole another glance his way and smirked over how amusing the situation was to her. Your eyes locked with him immediately, feeling your heart flutter and laughing under your breath when he tried to play it cool by looking at the stage instead.

You had already caught him red handed, though, and you could only feel relief and shyness altogether when it was confirmed to you that Kyungmi wasn’t just making it up for the sake of teasing you.

“Maybe we should invite him to sit with us,” Kyungmi proposed. “The fans would love that”.

“Stop” you laughed this time, hiding your face in your hands for a moment before you watched everyone get off the stage, as the next performance was apparently about to start. “Should I call the girls to rush back here? I think Aespa is coming up and Yumi really wanted to watch them”.

Kyungmi shook her head no, gesturing towards their empty seats. “The dorks left their phones here. I’m sure Yumi’s already dragging Soomin over here, though”.

“We’re here! We’re here!” Yumi announced a little out of breath, reaching your side as if on cue.

“The line to the restroom was so long,” Soomin whined, not wasting another second to slump down on her seat next to you. “I thought we wouldn’t make it back in time”.

“But we did, right?” The youngest asked, going around the table to her seat. “Aespa hasn’t performed yet?”

“No, th—”

Your words were caught in your throat when, just as Yumi was about to sit down, a staff member pulled her chair and took it with him.

She managed to catch her balance in time not to fall to the ground—with some help from Soomin, who had instinctively held onto her upper arm rather forcefully—, but watching her lost eyes as they followed the man and the idea of her having fallen down because of his careless action, were enough for you to call him out before he could leave.

“Excuse me, she was using that” you tried to sound as polite as you could, considering how you had to raise your voice in order for him to hear you from across the table.

He turned to you with an annoyed semblance, and you could already tell this wouldn’t be a pleasant exchange. “She wasn’t sitting on it”.

“But she was about to,” you argued. “That seat was assigned to us, can you please give it back to her?”

“Another group is missing a chair and I have instructions to take one to them”.

“Well, can’t you look f—”

“Y/N…” Yumi tried to ease the situation, carefully speaking up. “I’m okay, I’ll just go look for another one”.

Her words were like fuel to the guy in front, who took that as his chance to get out of there and trotted away from you before you could utter another word.

With a defeated sigh as you watched him leave, and with a visibly upset Yumi who was just left standing there as she had nothing to sit down on now, you stood up.

“Yumi, come here” you motioned towards your seat, pulling the chair back for her to sit down on instead.

“I’m okay, really” she shyly tried to reassure you the moment she realised what you were doing—still, she went up to you like you told her. “I’ll go look for a spare one”.

“Come on now, you’re way too shy for that” you smiled softly, receiving a genuine smile from her in return—both your heads turning to the stage when the lights went down and the performance she was looking up to the most began. “Let’s just enjoy the show for now and I’ll go look for a chair afterwards”.

Yumi’s smile now parted her lips, brightly showing her teeth as she agreed with you, and quietly thanking you before she took the seat you were offering her.

Placing your hands on her shoulders and quickly getting too immersed in the show taking place before you, you were completely unaware of the guy that was looking at you from afar, and how he needed to bring a hand up to his mouth and fake out a cough, in order to play it cool and—poorly—hide the big smile that was beginning to part his lips.

“What happened?” Felix asked him with furrowed eyebrows, leaning closer to his leader since the music currently playing made it hard to hear.

“She’s so cute” Chan answered, allowing his smile to take over yet still hiding his mouth under his hand.

Felix smiled, shaking his head and looking over to you, as he did not need his leader to mention your name for him to know he was talking about you.

“Did we just watch the same scene play out before us a minute ago?” He teased him. “Yumi literally got her seat taken from her and you’re laughing”.

“I’m not laughing about that,” Chan corrected him. He was mad about the whole situation, of course. “I just think Y/N’s cute when she gets all protective”.

“More like you think she’s cute all the time”.

“Whatever,” Chan rolled his eyes, knowing there was no winning this fight, for he could not cover the sun with a finger. “Can you go give my chair to her? I’ll go look for a spare one for myself”.

“Look who’s being all protective now,” Felix chuckled. “I mean, I could go up to her and give her your chair, but I’m sure everyone would take it the wrong way”.

“People might take it the wrong way if I do, too…”

“Everyone thinks you’re just friends, they’ll love the fan service”.

“We are just friends, though…”

Felix laughed—the sound of it overpowering the one coming from the stage. “Okay, whatever you say. I’ll look for a spare seat, you go give your friend your chair” he proposed with a taunting smirk. “I don’t think she’ll take it as a platonic gesture, though”.

Chan shook his head in defeat, resting against the back of his chair and focusing on the performance taking place on the stage instead.

God, he wished you wouldn’t take it as a platonic gesture. It was hard to draw the line when your interactions were expected to be merely friendly.

As soon as the performance ended and the lights were back on, he channeled the courage he had been earning up for the last minute and stood up, grabbing his chair and bringing it with him all the way to your table.

He could feel your members’ eyes focus on him the moment he reached it, yet you were too focused gushing about the show with Yumi to even notice him standing right behind you.

So, with a small tap on your shoulder, he brought your attention to him.

“Um…” he hesitated when you turned around and your eyes met his, feeling his confidence abandon him as it hit him just how much more beautiful you looked up-close. “Here”.

Feeling your piercing stare on him as he placed the chair on the space Kyungmi had just made for it by sliding her chair to the side, he couldn’t ignore the goosebumps on his skin. And when you were still far from saying anything after he rested his hands on the back of your new seat, he couldn’t help the breathy, nervous laugh that escaped his lips.

“Don’t tell me you actually wanted to stand for the rest of the Awards and I brought a chair over here for nothing”.

“N-No, um… thank you” you breathed out, feeling your heart pounding against your chest. “I didn’t think there were any seats left”.

“There weren’t” he laughed.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t make me say it and just take the chair” he felt his cheeks burn.

Feeling your face heat up like only he could make it, you decided to take it easy on him and not push for an answer. Instead, you smiled at him and nodded before you took the seat he was offering—feeling your heart race all over again when you did and he gently pushed you closer to the table.

You looked up to him with a smile, covering your mouth just in case before you said, “You just went a little too overboard with the fan service there, don’t you think?”

He chuckled, shaking his head and looking down at you with a smile. “It stopped being fan service a long time ago now, didn’t it?”

Hearing your members giggle, and turning around to see his members shaking their heads as they looked at him with amused grins, Chan realised that maybe this particular interaction would be hard to defend as a platonic one.

The image of the heart eyes you were looking at him with right before he went back to his table, though, was enough for him not to worry about a thing and to be over the moon for the rest of the night.

Fan service came in many ways, after all. He just got lucky enough to be able to court the person he had feelings for while at it.

2K notes · View notes

daisymooonart · 5 months ago

Text

May my Emperor live ten thousand years!

An (un)official painting of the Emperor and Empress of Huaxia. I would absolutely bow for Wu Zetian. Maybe not Qin Zheng, but he is hot and communist so I am tempted.

This took me around 15-20 hours to make and it was so worth it <3

Details under the cut!

First off: the faces.

Because of how obscured it was going to be, I wanted to get a good sense of what Zetian would look like before the makeup and the mask. I tried to give her a kind of average appearance, because I wanted to try and make her look like a normal person under all of that Empress garb (she's only 18... she should have been at the clurbbb). Her face is purposefully a little asymmetrical.

For makeup, I went for the blush-that-makes-you-look-drunk look that was apparently fashionable among Tang ladies. Her lips and yedian are pretty standard. I saved the xiehong on the wrong layer like a clown 😭 but it's still visible under the mask. Not entirely sure if her huadian would be accurate, but it's the one on the painting of Empress Wu that I see most often.

Would Qin Zheng have a stroke if he saw Zetian hang out with men wearing this mask? Absolutely. Am I Qin Zheng? Nope I'm an artist who spent wayyyyy too long drawing Zetian's face and didn't want to cover it up fully. Her haircomb is in the shape of an upside-down butterfly. The sharp bit on the collar is inspired by a shirt I saw in the Hunger Games once, it's a style that's supposed to force you into keeping good posture. I hc that Qin Zheng included it to piss her off, and it's definitely working...

Now for Qin Zheng's face. I tried to go for a simple, smooth-wing look. I never really envisioned him as twink-y when I read the book and tried to go for a hot-and-scary-man look whilst keeping it a little bit androgynous. He'd never ever have his hair down for a formal painting but I want to separate his face from the rest of the piece. His eye is weaker on his scarred side. He looks a little feverish and a little bit infuriated: he is probably wondering why the hell he needs to be painted when photographs now exist.

It's a very busy painting and I fully expect people to gloss over this, so here's a little zoom on Qin Zheng gripping Zetian's armour. He's a freak.

Now for the throne. I tried to do a dragon/phoenix piece but it didn't show very well in the actual painting, so here it is. You can really tell how much I love scribble art lol.

And here's the base of the throne, with two dragons to keep our lovely tyrants company

I opted for a double-seated throne because I accidentally drew them too close together and couldn't move them because of the layers because feminism <3

Now for clothing. I noticed that on the HT cover, Zetian has a white gem whilst Qin Zheng has a black gem, but the clothes underneath are the opposite colours. I made the details on Qin Zheng's armour white and Zetian's details black, but Qin Zheng's armour ends up being darker whilst Zetian's armour is a lot paler. Symbolism... or something... Also they both get a heart because its cute, like a friendship bracelet.

I really can't draw scales though so erm. Yeah.

If you notice any er,,,, imagery in their lower robes it was unintentional I swear

Even though Qin Zheng is very much the taller, dominant figure in the piece, I tried to actually put the focus on Zetian, by making her armour a different shade of gold to the throne and by keeping her closer to the centre. I don't know if it worked but my eyes think so. I think out of the entire piece though, Zetian took me the longest because I hadn't settled on what look I was trying to go for her. I redrew her armour about five times, but thankfully by the time it was done I had pretty much solidified where I was going with Qin Zheng's armour and I finished that in no time.

Again I absolutely loved making this painting, it was SO worth it. It might me my most detailed ever. I adore Heavenly Tyrant so so so much it might actually be my favourite book ever lol.

#daisymooon.art #there is no dragon flag in ba sing se #heavenly tyrant #iron widow #wu zetian #qin zheng #xiran jay zhao #digital art #art #fanart #drawn on krita #krita #digital fanart #bookblr #book fanart #qintian #1k

2K notes · View notes

rafeysafterglow · 3 months ago

Note

Best friend Rafe where you guys stay together every night innocently (or so you think) and then it turns into smut plzzzz

not so innocent sleepover with bsf!rafe

pairing: bestfriend!rafe x f!reader cw: cunnilingus, fingering, reader receiving oral, rafe being kinda rough, dirty talk, possessive & jealous rafe, every character here is of age, 18+ mdni a/n: my first ask ty (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) also my first time writing smut so i hope i did okay !! i wrote this while rewatching hunger games lol

rafe cameron has been your bestfriend ever since you two were in little diapers. growing up with somebody like him came with its perks, one of them being having a personal bodyguard 24/7. rafe loves to follow you around like a shadow so it wasn't a surprise to you when he offered to have a final sleepover together before you leave for college.

the night started off normal. you convinced him to watch a romcom before bed so now you two are cuddled up on the couch, with a bucket of popcorn in between. there are no boundaries or hidden secrets between you and rafe, so it’s not an unusual occurrence to act like a couple from time to time. the people who don’t know the two of you well already assume you’re a couple. even, new people you meet automatically label rafe as “your boyfriend”, given that you two are always attached by the hip.

these assumptions don’t bother you, most of the time. it only serves as a disadvantage when you try to date yourself. rafe always seems to scare off all your potential suitors. no matter how perfect each guy seemed, rafe always deemed them “not enough for you.”

this time, though, you managed to land yourself in a one-month situationship with a guy you really like, aaron. somehow, you managed to keep it a secret from rafe for this long.

the movie ends and rafe suggests to immediately go to bed. yes, you two share one bed. you were used to it. “i'm just gonna go change and do my skincare first,” you told rafe. “okay, sweet girl,” he nods as he makes his way and plops onto the bed.

minutes later, you walk out of the bathroom, refreshed. “okay i’m ready to-” you stop in the middle of your sentence when you see rafe sitting on the edge of your bed, his face clearly in distress. you approached him slowly. “rafe... what's wrong?”

“who's aaron?” he said, lowly. you pull back in shock. how did he know? he seemed to hear your silent question, “i saw the notif from your phone, ‘babe, what are you doing tonight?’ babe? the fuck?” you realized you left your phone on the bedside table.

the words couldn’t come out of your mouth. he stood and marched his way to you. “you think you can keep a secret from me? i’ve known you my whole life, sweet girl, and i’ve been patient for most of that time. i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“wha-” before you could continue, rafe grabbed your face and smashed his lips onto yours. at first, you hesitated, but the way he was starving for your lips made you give in. you melted into him as he picked you up and threw you onto the bed. he didn’t take even a second before he forced your shorts down. he palmed your pussy through your panties as he sucked on your neck, marking you. you whined for him, desperately.

“use your words, sweet girl. tell me what you want,” he said. he stopped his movements to stare at you directly in the eye. “i want- i want your mouth on me, rafey,” you breathed out. rafe smirks, he knows you only use that nickname of his when you really want something. “good girl.”

he slowly goes down your body, worshipping it with his kisses. he threw your panties away and sucks in a breath. “pretty, and so wet for me.” he dived in without warning. he sucks your clit with such hunger and desperation. he enters a finger in which makes your hips lift and your whines louder.

he continues sucking, hard, and pumping his finger in and out. you jerk against him, but he manages to hold you down with his arm on your stomach. “ya think you can handle another finger, sweet girl?” before you can reply, he enters his middle finger along with his index. he massages the soft, sensitive part inside you which makes your eyes roll in pleasure. your hands grip onto the sheets so hard your knuckles ache.

“uh uh fuck fuck fuck i’m cominggg,” you come, hard, and rafe wastes no time swallowing every last drop. he lets you ride out your high for a minute before inserting a finger again, coaxing your cum out. you can feel the walls of your opening contracting as it pushes the cum out. he makes his way up to you, his mouth glistening.

“you’re mine now. block his number.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafeysafterglow #rafe fanfiction #drew starkey #rafe obx #rafe cameron outerbanks #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #rafe fluff #drew starkey fanfic #obx fanfic #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut #best friend rafe #rafe smut

840 notes · View notes

s0urw00lf · 4 months ago

Text

Imagine Spencer and Hotch having to bail you out of jail

You actually couldn't believe this. You, an FBI agent, were just thrown in jail for defending yourself from a man grabbing your ass in a clothing shop of all places.

You were minding your business, walking through the many aisles looking for clothes for spencer. He kept mentioning that he needs to get some new clothing items but wouldn't make time to do it himself, and thanks to hotch you had a small break from work thanks to an incident from the last case that left you injured.

Your eyes laid on a sweater that seemed like it called Spencer's name, it was grey and had little orange, green and red leaves scattered around. It wasn't something he'd wear for work, but he would love it for his off days. You smiled dropping the sweater into your cart when you felt something harshly grab your ass. Without thinking you whipped around punching the person in the face. Hard.

He fell to the ground as you shook the pain out of your hand it’d seemed to be just your luck when a security guard approached you “ma’am please turn around and put your hands behind your head” he spoke. You looked at him with shock, had he not seen the man grab you. “What no i'm not gonna-“ he harshly grabbed your wrists turning you so he could grab your other one “what the hell is wrong with you” you seethed “he just assaulted me and im getting arrested?”

He began reciting you your rights, you scoffed cutting him off “fuck off i know my rights im an fbi agent.” You seethed. The man paused, “let me see some id” he said. You rolled your eyes incredulously “my hands are bound together sir, check in my bag” you sighed.

he went through your bag and you noticed the small smile on the man you’d punched face as he got up and ran. Not only was he arresting you wrongfully but he’d just let another suspect go, who the hell were they hiring in this place.

”ma’am there’s no id in here” he said. Your eyebrows winched together “wha- how is my id not-“ “you don't look old enough to be fbi anyway” he said hauling you out of the store, not paying any mind to the staring customers.

At the police station they’d put you in the system and given you your one phone call. Of course you called hotch. The phone only rang briefly before you heard Hotch’s voice ring out “agent hotchner” he answered.

You sighed “hotch its y/n i need help” you muttered awkwardly. “Y/n? Why are you in jail?” His voice showed a small sign of worry.

“I was at the mall and some guy grabbed my… butt. So I punched him in the face and security saw, arrested me and let the other guy go. And they don’t believe im fbi, not that it should matter because it was self defense” you explained glaring at the cop who looked like she could care less.

“They arrested you for self defense?” He asked, sounding like he was just making sure he heard what he thought he heard, you nodded, even though he couldn’t see you “yeah and the guy got away.”

“Where were you, what store?” He asked, “uh im not sure I wasn’t really paying attention.” You answered. There was a shuffling on the other end before hotch spoke again “i'll be there in fifteen minutes, and i cant promise Spencer wont tag along either” he said warning you. You chuckled the smallest bit “I wouldn't expect him not to”

hotch hung up after that and exited his office where the rest of the team sat talking “y/n’s been arrested” he said, catching the team's attention. Spencer immediately stood up “what why?”

Hotch explained to the team what you told him over the phone and that he was on his way over to get you out, Spencer made it known that he was coming with him. Before he and Spencer set off he set off he told the rest of the team to find out who the guy was.

When hotch and Spencer arrived you’d already been put in a cell, thank god you hadn’t had to put on the orange suit yet.

“Your interfering with a police investigation.” The lady spoke to hotch. “I understand but you have an FBI agent wrongfully detained” Hotch said in his usual calm manner.

“Sir with all due-“ “agent l/n was assaulted in public, not only did you fail to make sure you made the correct arrest, you let the other person involved go. So that makes this an open case until we find that man, which also means she’s free to go, unless you’d like to hold her for 48 hours which I highly advise against” hotch said, giving the shower woman a glare.

Spencer stood behind him fidgeting nervously, hotch told him to let him take the lead much to Spencer’s dismay but he knew hotch was right and he’d probably turn the police station upside down if he was the one you’d called.

The lady looked between the two tall, intimidating agents and sighed. “Follow me” she said, walking towards where they kept un-processed prisoners.

When Spencer’s eyes finally set on you he rushed passed hotch and the officer “y/n” he called catching your attention you looked up and saw him come into view “Spencer, you came, thank god” you stood up walking to the barred entrance. “Of course I did” he said.

The cop pulled out her keys with a sigh “lucky day agent. You're free to go” she unlocked the cell door and Spencer pulled you into his arms “your okay he didn't hurt you?” He asked, pulling away to inspect you. “I think he ran away with more bruises than me,” you joked. Neither hotch nor Spencer found your joke funny.

You coughed awkwardly turning to hotch “thanks for coming” you gave him a bashful smile. Hotch gave you a rare smile in return “of course” he said. Spencer grabbed your hand “we should get back to the bau and see if they came up with anything. Do you want me to take you home?” He asked you.

You shook your head “no i was groped not shot i can handle going in” you answered. Hotch gave you a look and you weren’t sure what it meant, you just knew it was a warning.

When you all arrived back at the bau you were completely surrounded by your team bombarding you with hugs and questions ‘are you okay’ ‘did he hurt you’ ‘I’m gonna nail this bastard when i get a hit’ you smiled at their worry, feeling grateful you were surrounded by people who cared as much as they did.

“guys i'm okay, i just want to find this guy, there’s no telling how many other women he's done this to” you said.

Emily stepped forward “i'm glad you said that, i got this just before you came in but they’ve got a description of the man, that shopping center seems to be a hotspot for him”

Hotch nodded, “Garcia, what do you have?”

“Sir i got the security footage but I wasn’t able to nail him because his back was towards the camera so I’m going through all of the mall's security cameras to see if we can find him” Garcia rambled her colorful pen wailing around with her hand.

“Okay let's get to work” hotch says and the group dissipated back to their respective seats to show.

It wasn't long before Garcia had the man's name and address, hotch, Rossi and Derek insisted on you staying at the bau while they went to make the arrest, much to your dismay but you probably would’ve hit him again for causing you to have a shitty day.

After everything was said and done, hotch sent you and Spencer home and Spencer was being way more clingy than usual. “You okay?” You asked him as he laid his head on the nape of your neck. He nodded “yeah, i was just so worried when hotch told me you got arrested. I thought something bad happened” his breath fanned over your chest. You smiled, “Spence, I'm okay, I promise.” You whispered softly. He lifted his head from your neck showing his gentle hazel eyes “i wish i was there to protect you” he pouted

you tilted your head “Spence this isn’t your fault, if you were there he probably wouldn’t have done it anyway. Saved a lot of women from it happening to them because you weren’t there” you caressed his face. He leaned into your hand “but you shouldn’t have had to”

you nodded “no, but that’s what we're here for right?” You asked. He begrudgingly nodded “and we protect the people who cant protect themselves, even if it comes with a price. I’m okay Spencer i swear” you said pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He smiled when you pulled away “I should be the one comforting you, you know?” He joked, making you laugh a little.

“Comfort me by holding me” you said and he wasted no time bringing you into his arms. The two of you sat like that until you fell asleep and Spencer still sat awake imagining what he would’ve done to protect you. It definitely wouldn’t have been legal.

AN: Thank you @cheriesbucky for letting me use your idea i hope you like it

#s0urw00lf #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader fluff #criminal minds x you #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

676 notes · View notes

sweetcalebb · 26 days ago

Text

AI Zayne: Feelings?

Even though you're an adult, your dad insists you need an AI "bodyguard." You don't want one though, especially not one that feels so real. But you don't have a say in the matter so now you're stuck with one.

cw: controlling dad, attachment issues, slow-burn (?)

INSPIRED BY: @syluses and their yummy fic!

thank u sm! <3

₊˚ ✧

"I'm not a kid! I don't need a—" Your eyes flick to the thing in the corner. Zayne. Or whatever its name is. He's standing in his charging station, head bowed, eyes shut, looking way too... human. "A creepy babysitter!" you snap.

You pace around the room, your eyes drifting back to him every few seconds like he might activate on his own at any minute. "I'm an adult for God's sake!" you hiss into the phone, knuckles turning white with effort.

"This isn't up for debate," your dad snaps back, his patience wearing thin. You'd had this argument about 5 times already, and you were both getting sick of it.

You sigh, running a tired hand through your hair. You glance at Zayne for the twentieth time. He's still motionless. You're not sure what you expected, but something about him—or it—is unnerving.

You want to argue back. Want to tell your dad you won't put up with some operating system disguised as a human following you around, but the argument dies in your throat.

Because you know your dad.

And you know there's no winning.

"It says he's off," he finally says, his words calm, but laced with an undeniable edge of frustration. "Turn him back on."

You bite your lip, heat rushing to your cheeks. Who the hell did he think he was? Telling you what to do? Assigning someone—something—to dote on you? To strip you of your privacy under the guise of safety? It was bullshit.

But you don't say that.

You simply scoff into the phone. "Fine."

You hang up and immediately toss your phone on the couch harder than you mean to. It bounces off the cushions and lands on the floor with a loud thud, but you don't even bother to pick it up.

You pace the room instead, muttering silent curses and tugging at your hair.

Your dad was unbelievable!

He just—

He was always—

You pause, taking a stuttering breath. You need to stop thinking about him. Just.. do literally anything else.

You pad over to Zayne, your arms crossed, your brows knit together, and your breath uneven. You reach toward him, pressing the button behind his ear, and step back when his eyes blink open.

He takes a moment. Blinks again, then focuses on you.

He's silent for a second before saying, "Good evening."

You don't say anything, just stare.

For a moment, you almost feel bad. Zayne just looks so human, and you're here, ignoring his attempt at polite conversation. Then you remember he's only an operating system. Then you don't feel bad. Just mad all over again.

Zayne blinks again. "Your heart rate is elevated."

Your brows pinch closer.

What the fuck? Was he doing bio scans on you now?

"Are you experiencing stress?

"Don't do that," you huff.

"Don't do what?"

"Don't.." You pause, taking a small step back. "Don't scan me."

"My job is to protect you. I have to sc—"

"Stop it," you snap, your voice rising with frustration. You're not mad at him. Not entirely. But he's the only one you can take your anger out on right now. "Just don't."

There's a beat of silence before Zayne nods. "Okay. I won't scan you anymore."

You bite the inside of your cheek.

Thanks, Dad.

—

The next weeks blur past. You can't tell where one day ends and the next one starts. All you know is Zayne won't leave you alone. It doesn't matter where you go, he's always a few steps behind. Quiet, yet always right there.

It makes you want to scream. At nothing, at him, at your father for giving you this thing that can't seem to give you a second of peace.

You did once.

You just got sick of hearing his heavy footsteps behind you every second of the day, so you snapped back around and began yelling at him to stop following you like you were some glass doll.

He didn't even flinch. Just stared at you, then nodded and said, "I'll keep my distance from now on."

He didn't stop following you completely. He always lingered nearby—at a safe distance.

Still, you hadn't yelled at him since. You thought it would've made you feel better, but it only made you feel worse. Like you were screaming at a pet that didn't understand what they did wrong.

Instead, you were nicer.

Just a little nicer.

…Then a lot nicer.

Suddenly, his presence didn't bother you as much. No, you'd sit near him instead of across the room like you did the first few weeks with him.

Suddenly, you were making offhand comments about whatever you were reading for the pure sake of starting conversations.

And Zayne seemed to follow the same sentiment. You weren't sure you could call it that, but it felt like it. He started bringing you tea without asking. Started noticing things you weren't sure he was programmed to notice, like your haircut or your new clothes.

It was unsettling and comforting all at once.

And now you're in your room, screeching into the phone. "Maintenance?! Doesn't he have like—I don't know—auto updates? Or.. something?"

"I thought you'd be relieved. You've been stuck with him for a month," your dad says.

You stay silent.

You should be relieved. You were against Zayne from the very start.. but now? Do you really want him gone?

"He's supposed to have maintenance every month. He'll only be gone for a day or two."

Still, you say nothing.

Because who the hell does he think he is?

First, he forces this robotic bodyguard, or babysitter, or—whatever it's supposed to be—on you, then he thinks he can just take it back? What a fucking—

You shut your eyes, bringing your hand up to your face to rub your temple. You're overreacting. You know that. It's not like your dad's taking Zayne away forever.

It's just a day or two.

It's the principle that upsets you. That's what you tell yourself, anyway.

"He's doing just fine," you finally mutter. "He doesn't need maintenance."

Your dad sighs, and you can practically hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. "You don't get to decide that." His voice is smooth, but it's tinged with that controlled edge you know too well. "It's already scheduled."

"Then cancel it."

Your dad scoffs. "Why do you insist on being such a stubborn..—" He doesn't finish his sentence. Just lets out a low rumble. "I'm not canceling it. Why are you fighting me on this, of all things?"

He waits, then slowly adds, "Are you attached to it?"

Your breath hitches at his question.

"No," you mutter. "I'm not attached."

"Then what's the issue?"

"There's no issue."

"Then stop fighting this."

You groan. It was always the same thing with your dad. You were sick of him making choices for you.

"No. You can't just take him."

"Are you just arguing for the sake of arguing? When will you learn to—"

"He's mine."

It slips out before you can stop it.

And the world stills for just a second when the words finally register.

He’s mine.

It's childish. So embarrassingly childish, and you know your dad is on the other line with his brows furrowed and his mouth open.

"He's yours?" He echoes. It's silent for a second, then he laughs. The mocking sound grates on your nerves. "If you're this upset over it, then maybe the AI's gotten too close. Should I report it?"

You have to stop yourself from blurting out 'no' too quickly. You remind yourself to rein it in before speaking.

"It's not like that," you huff. "I just don't like you deciding things and then telling me at the last minute."

Your dad sighs. "Because if I asked, you'd argue. Like you're doing right now."

"But you can't just—"

"It's getting maintenance tomorrow. That's final."

"You don't get to just—to just decide that! He’s with me all the time—I should be the one to say when he gets maintenance!"

Your chest heaves with your angry breaths as you wait for your dad to argue back—because he always does—but it's silent.

Too silent.

"Hello?"

You pull your phone away from your ear to look at the screen, and you scoff. He hung up. That bastard hung up.

"Fuck you!" you yell into the speaker (even though he can't hear it) before slamming your phone down onto the bed with a quiet thud. The sound isn't nearly loud enough, though. So, impulsively, you turn to your nightstand and shove your humidifier off.

Your dad had no right.

No right whatsoever.

You're not attached.

Zayne is just a robot trained to keep you safe. Nothing less, nothing more. And yet you find yourself storming into the living room just to look at him.

You stop in front of him, the tension slowly bleeding out of your shoulders. He's charging, head bent and eyes closed—the way he always looks when he's plugged in.

He's so peaceful like this. So blissfully unaware. It makes you want to slap him because it just isn't fair.

It isn't fair that he doesn't have to feel these feelings. It isn't fair that he doesn't have so much frustration that he thinks he can punch a hole into the wall.

Slowly, you reach out, touching your fingertips to his lashes. The designers made them so long and pretty. Almost like he was made for you to like him. To lure you in. That wasn't fair either.

You stare for a moment longer before your fingers gently slip behind his ear. You want to make yourself believe this is a grudging decision, but you know it's not.

You press the power button, your stomach twisting as you wait for him to blink his eyes open. When he does, you don't even have the chance to say anything before he eyes you—once—then says, "You're upset."

You let out a soft breath through your nose. "I'm fine."

"You always say that when you're not."

You remind yourself he's programmed to be perceptive, but it doesn't stop the little squeeze your heart does.

"What's wrong?"

You shrug. "Nothing."

Zayne looks at you, searching for any shift or twitch that might tell him what happened. You don't give him the chance, though. You're already shuffling over to the couch and sink down.

Zayne follows, still trying to figure out what's bothering you.

"Do you know what maintenance you need?"

Zayne's eyes flicker to the floor. They flash a mechanical blue for a few seconds before they return to their normal hazel-green.

He glances back up.

"Diagnostics say all systems are operating within normal parameters."

Your chest tightens. If Zayne can do a little check-up on himself, why the hell did he need to get sent somewhere else?

Almost like he can read your mind, Zayne adds, "But all AIs under contract are required to report for monthly maintenance unless otherwise overridden.”

You take a small breath.

"Oh."

"You sound worried." His eyes run over your face, filing each expression into a personal folder in the corner of his mind. "Is that what you're upset about? My maintenance?"

You bite your lip, trying to stop the words from spilling out. It's silly, letting yourself get so vulnerable with a damn robot, but you can't help it.

"What happens if something goes wrong during maintenance? Do you even know?" you blurt out.

The minute you say it, Zayne's expression softens like he's finally put it together. "..You're worried about.. me."

You tear your eyes away.

It's not like he can judge you, but you still feel the need to avoid his gaze. "Just tell me what can go wrong."

He waits a beat, then softly— "No."

You snap your head back up, your brows furrowed. "What—? Zayne. Tell me."

"I think it's best I don't."

"Zayne—"

"It's highly unlikely anything will go wrong."

You huff, your lips curling with a frown. "What if you come back differently? Like.." You know you should shut up, but you don't. "Like, what if you start talking differently? Or don't remember who I am?"

"I'll remember you," he says, his voice lowering just a fraction. "I promise."

Your heart stutters.

"You're not just saying that?"

"No." Zayne takes a step closer, his gaze darting down to your hand like he's thinking about comforting you. Of holding it with his own.

Or maybe you’re imagining it.

Because he doesn't.

"I'll recite everything I know about you when I get back." His words are confident. Final.

You let out a soft breath. "Okay then." You stand back up, walking him back to his charging station. He hesitates for a second, something like sympathy passing through his eyes before he finally steps in.

"You'll recite everything when you're back?" you ask, standing in front of him, your fingers hovering over the button behind his ear.

He nods. "I'll recite everything."

Your chest feels tight. You want to believe him, but there's a part of you that's still doubting. It's why you don't press the button. Why you just let your fingers linger there, palm pressed against his jaw.

When you still don't say anything, Zayne reaches up and gently wraps his hand around your wrist. It almost feels like he's going to lean into your touch, but instead he just gives your wrist a light squeeze.

"You don't have anything to worry about."

"Okay."

You scan his face, like you're trying to memorize it in case they make any changes to his face. Maybe you are. Then, against your better judgment, you lean in and press your lips to his cheek.

It's warm. Soft. Like yours. It feels real enough to let your lips linger a second longer than you mean to before pulling back.

Zayne's forehead creases—something you didn't even know he could do—as he watches you lean back. His gaze darts down to your lips, up to your eyes, then back down again.

"Goodnight, Zayne," you murmur.

He hesitates. "..Goodnight."

And then you're powering him down.

—

Your dad said it would only take one to two days to do maintenance, but it actually took three.

Three whole days.

The minute his men bring Zayne back, you shoo them away to inspect him yourself.

You stand in front of Zayne, raking your eyes over every feature until you're certain they're the same. But you feel like something else is wrong.

Like they messed up. Fucked up his coding or whatever the hell is that makes Zayne Zayne.

That makes him.. yours.

You fumble with his power button and bite your nails as you wait for him to power on. You think it takes him a second longer to turn on, and it makes your stomach churn.

Even when he blinks his eyes open, you feel something isn't right still.

You can't help it. Quickly, you blurt out, "What's my favorite color?"

Zayne looks at you, but he doesn't answer. Just roves his eyes over your face like he's discovering it for the first time, and then you feel it.

Panic.

They fucked up.

For a moment you're quiet. Then it hits you. Dread, anger, and hurt all at once.

You groan as you spin around; you can't bear to look at Zayne like this.

"I told him to cancel it. But he didn't listen! No, he wanted to fucking—" You breathe in sharply. "He wanted to be an asshole!"

Your voice rises and falls with every syllable, chest heaving with angry breaths. You're so frantic, you don't even realize Zayne has stepped out of his charging station.

"I'm going to—to—"

Realistically, what would you do? What could you possibly do? It's a ridiculous notion because really, you can't do anything. Your dad is untouchable.

Because of course he is. Stupid, fucking—

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder. It's comforting. Heavy. You slowly turn around, your frustration melting away the minute you look at Zayne again. He looks so calm. So… Zayne.

He slowly drops his hand to his side.

"Zayne?" you murmur softly.

There's a small silence before he speaks.

"You kissed me."

Your eyes go wide, heat rushing to your cheeks.

"I wasn't programmed to respond to affection… But… I.." His eyes drift down to your lips. "I liked it. And I wasn't supposed to."

#zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace #love and deep space zayne #lads x reader #ai zayne #android x reader #robot emotions?#slow burn ish #AI zayne x reader #android zayne #sci fi #fluff #i have a crush on zayne guys #a bit of angst #daddy issues

538 notes · View notes

rinnstars · 8 months ago

Text

jealousy jealousy!

when hes just a little (very) jealous of someone else

bllk boys (nagi, rin, reo) x reader: insecurities, fluff!!!!!!!, established r/s except for rin (but you two get into one by the end!), nagis part was deleted and rewritten TT, not proof read + likes n reblog r appreciated <3

nagi seishiro:

“eh… you cleared this level already…? i thought you were struggling with it..?” nagi’s voice muffled against the pile of blankets his face was smushed in, looking up at you confusedly from your phone, displaying the game level cleared.

its not that he doesnt believe you cleared it all by yourself, if anything youre pretty good at this game despite only playing it for him. its simply because you were complaining on call with him about it, and all of the sudden youve finished it? he doesnt quite believe it, hes gone through that level too and he knows its pretty challenging, taking a little more energy than it really should have even for nagi himself.

“ah.. my seatmate cleared it for me this morning when he saw me playing it!” its strange: your bright voice always wakes him up a little, bringing light into his otherwise dull and boring life. yet this time, he feels his heart pang a little.

its troublesome. he doesnt like feeling this way: his heart tightens at your words, he unconsciously grips your phone a little, only realising when the screen protector cuts him a little, and he feels as though hes getting all fired up strangely the same way he gets on the field. if anything, nagi doesnt even know who this mysterious seat partner is, and he sure doesnt want to know: its troublesome to socialise with others after all. and yet, if there’s anything he’s now set on doing as though his life depends on it, as though your relationship with him depends on it, as though his ego depends completely on this: he wants to confront this guy and challenge him in an actual game competition. he knows he’ll win, he has spent his entire life in bed playing mobile game or spending late hours of the night on grinding back to immortal on different variety of games from valorant to league of legends to overwatch. he’s covered his grounds he thinks, that maybe all those time wasn’t wasted at all other than the fact that you weren’t with him during those time: lending him your lap to lie down on when he plays his switch or phone, lending him your support when you sit on his lap on his chair squirming to keep it a challenge to win and carry his team still, even more lending him your accounts when he plays with you, helping carry you in any game you want or even just building your islands together on animal crossing or minecraft on more chill days.

nagi doesn’t get it - really, its the same ego that drives him in football, not wanting to lose. his eyes flicker with sudden fire and intensity that only burns whenever he plays games with you: whether that be when you die in a pvp game and him immediately straightening his back to avenge you, earning aces for rounds straight until the screen flashes with victory, or when someone talks bad about you in the voice channel and is immediately reacted with nagi’s voice that defends your honour as if he’s your knight in shining armour, or even simply the way his hands click on the mouse quickly whenever he sees a zombie go near you in the dark cave whilst playing something as chill as minecraft. if anything, nagi think it might just apply to real life too: his hands tugging at yours as though on instinct in record speed when you trip on another branch to prevent you from falling, his glare at others whenever they bother you too much that is visible through the awkward smile you give and your hands finding its way to fiddle with his shirt.

and the same ego is clear to him now: he doesn’t want anyone else to be yours, he wants to be the only one to help you. selfish maybe, but he’ll deliver - the way he tracks your figure in the map from valorant to minecraft to even genshin, the way he fights to protect you from the enemies, his hands animatedly clicking at his mouse and the other navigating his keyboard all at the same time in order to garner the best and most successful result that he knows will get you to smile oh so brightly that makes his heart pound, or even the way he charges his old switch just to help you play animal crossing on his own account, maintaining your village and neglecting his all to make a cute little house for you inspired by your pinterest board even though it takes him all night.

and to you, its clear: he’s upset at what you’ve done with the way he deflates even more than he already is. and it clicks. a routine and cycle you’ve unintentionally broken - you complaining about a level or rank you can’t get out of, he’ll listen and ask you about it the next day when youre back at his house, and he’ll fix it just as he always down: an unspoken agreement really.

“sorry sei… i still can’t clear the next level.. help me seiiii…” and suddenly he’s back lying right on your pillowy thighs: the way his eyes that was just seconds ago filled with intensity that you think simply doesn’t fit his face closes with comfort as you massage his scalp again with his fingers, the way his face smushes against your thighs comfortably rather than the weird feeling of him hovering on your thigh as though he wanted to get up, the way his hands no longer grip your phone tightly and instead holds your hand, fitting it right in perfectly.

“kay… its not bothersome with you..” he says, a confession of love from himself. he’ll never find it annoying if its you: he thinks he would play the dinosaur game from having no internet for hours on end if you liked watching him play it, he thinks he’d fight against the same boss for even days straight if you said you needed the materials for it for your character, and he knows he will most definitely help you finish any level you can’t. and something he wont say, a quiet confession springs in his mind: he loves you and most definitely he loves to play for you. and based on you willingly passing him your phone, maybe, just maybe, he wont give in to his impulses and actually find that guy - only shooting daggers at him that sends a shiver down his spine when he waits outside your class for you to release after school.

rin itoshi:

its not the first time rin felt this pang in his chest: he felt it when his older brother kicks the ball to any other member of the football team to shoot for the goal, he felt it when his teammates seems to be able to shoot he ball even more accurately than he does, he felt it when his brother praised yoichi instead of him. he’s always regarded that feeling as something football related: he’s never felt too much emotions outside of his passion and hobbies either way - but lately, he thinks he feels it a lot whenever he’s with you. perhaps, the seed from before blue lock has started blooming: the day you boarded the bus with him to the facility that was hours away from yours and his house that made his cheeks stain with pink as he sits right beside you, eating the filling breakfast you made for him, beaming at him so brightly as you wave him goodbye that makes him hesitate for the first time in his life.

and right now, he doesn’t get it. its not like there’s a lack of chocolates at his desk, if anything its quite the opposite. there’s practically a mountain of chocolates of different variety that would surely fulfill his secret sweet tooth - from dark chocolate in a heart shape mold bought from a fancy shop, from milk chocolates in squares sprinkled with heart shaped sweet bits on top, or even strawberries dipped in white chocolate. and yet, if looks could kill, that guy who’s holding YOUR chocolate box would have died, guts spilled right on the classroom door like those cliche horror games he plays. rin doesn’t get it: its not as if youre close witht that guy,youre his seat partner for all the years you’ve spent together since kindergarten, and he’s sure that that guys no one special right? and its out of character when rin thinks harder about a nobody in his class: do you like band kids like that lame guy? (he did learn the guitar for fun when he was younger, should bring it out from under his bed again?) do you like guys who are a little better at math? (maybe he should study for this weeks math quiz he thinks) or do you like guys who have leadership roles? (he’ll ask to be captain of the football team, its obvious anyways, he’s the best in this dull football club in his school)

usually, when he feels this same pang in his chest, he ignores it, keep mum about it and just work harder instead until the glass shards leave his heart - and yet he can’t do that strangely despite the routine between you two staying: where you and him sit together at the back of the class, playing your phone at the back oops the class unbeknownst to the teacher, giggling and whispering about whatever, your feet kicking his occasionally from the lack of distance that makes his face a little pink. yet, here he is eyeing that last chocolate underneath your table, its unlike the others he noted - unlike the mini chocolate cup you passed to that guy who he wishes to punch simply because of the smug smirk that was plastered on his face, unlike the small chocolate bars you presented to the other girls in the class, and even more special definitely from the chocolate candies you sneak into both his and yours mouth during class. its heart-shaped, reminiscent of the other chocolate now angrily thrown into one plastic bag that he plans to eat whilst crying about this the second he reaches home, a ribbon tied messily clearly with much effort too, and even pasted mini heart papers.

and its not until recess when youre alone with rin in class as per routine, everyone leaving for lunch does he do something about it for the first time in his life about this nagging and tugging feeling that makes him feel like a little kid again. and it just might have been the universe way of telling the two of you how connected you two are: as you struggle to find the courage to give him the slightly burnt chocolate brownies inside the heart shaped box.

“i.. like you.” “f-for you rin..!”

its simultaneous, at the exact same time, where the clock struck 1:00pm.

the confession he’s kept all these years, since the first day he’s met you at kindergarten where you two practically were fixed at the hips ever since: seat partners since primary school all the way up until now where youre both now seventeen and about to go to university and him to become a professional football player soon. ten years - ten years of looking at you as if he’s so far away when youre with anyone but him as he feels the friendship bracelet around his wrist for reassurance, ten years of writing confession letters after confession letters and poetries only to rip them all apart, yelling into his pillow and kicking his feet like a maiden in love, ten years of looking at you pass chocolates every single time during valentines except to him. its unlike rin, he’s never been good at expressing himself, believing in action over words - the way he carries your files and extra bags after school, the way he always listens and remembers what you say and even buy things you’ve mentioned offhandedly with his own pocket money, the way he never hesitates to carry you back home even when his leg is all jelly from football practice that he doesn’t tell you.

and its the same for you. the valentine gift you’ve made for him all these years: spanning from chocolate chip cookies you’ve made, to macrons you bought for him from his favourite bakery, or even his favourite blueberry pie your mother bought you - and yet all left underneath the table, secretly placed back in your bag for you to eat it whilst crying about your cowardice. and you hate it: these ten years of watching him carry a plastic bag full of physical confessions without any interest, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even when youre staying over and opening a pack of these chocolates when you’re hungry, these ten years of looking bitterly at the friendship bracelet that is nothing more than a bitter reminder of how you’ll never be more because of your own cowardice, these ten years of looking at rin accept everyone’s chocolates but yours.

and for the first time in years, rin thinks it’s just right - when he places his lips on yours, melting into this sweet kiss with the brownie in his mouth. and he thinks you might just taste sweeter than the brownie melting between the two of yours mouth.

reo mikage:

he doesn’t get this tight feeling wrapping like thorns around his heart - seeing you so close with a classmate, smiling as he seems to be teaching you something through the windows of your classroom. it’s clearly not the exhaustion from climbing all the way from his class at the first level to yours at the fourth with this being the millionth time hes done this like a instinct every time the bell rings, its not the way your hands seems to linger so close to his practically touching someone’s else hands that gets reo sweating cold beads of sweat down his neck, and its not jealousy at how someone else might just be better than him. realistically he knows, you’re probably just having difficulties in your academics, a normal human thing but he can’t help the bitter bile that rises to his mouth - he can teach you too evident from the library dates where he helps you go through your homework and teach you the same concepts like hes made for it and hes definitely better than that classmate right? hes smarter, he tops the class every single exam without fail with his name always plastered on the results sheet as number one, he’s much more charming he would like to believe with your smile always reaching your eyes that he adores, and he’s much more useful with the way he can teach you whilst helping you with other things like while buying you food on his phone, fixing your broken pens, or something. he swallows the bitter bile, walking into the practically empty class with just you and that.. classmate, scruntising his every detail in his mind all whilst putting on the charming facade hes too used to having on - one that you can tell by the furrowing of your eyebrows at him as he grabs a chair and slides it beside you as though looking at your homework.

“haven’t i taught you this before?” its petty, he knows, its quite literally a new chapter, one that he knows your class just started on. but he thinks it does the job when he sees your classmate suddenly feel uncomfortable - perhaps its the tone of his voice that underlies irritation clearly meant for him, perhaps its the subtle passive aggressive smile aimed at him, or perhaps its the intimidation of having reo mikage right next to you clearly upset with you. he doesn’t really enjoy the title placed on him, if anything sometimes he loathes the reputation that comes with his family name, with people looking at him as only that and never as reo - but just this time does he thank the stars for his luck.

“huh?” he can tell, youre confused, and he thinks youre just so oblivious or maybe hes just weirdly jealous of something so insignificant that even your brain can’t comprehend him at all. but he doesn’t mind it as he glanced sideways at your classmate - awkwardly and quickly packing his bag, leaving just you and reo sitting at your desk.

and its awkward silence, with him looking at your homework that he just received just an hour ago and hasn’t started on too, and you looking confused at him. its not unfamiliar to see reo in your class, its practically routine at this point, except he usually just stands outside until youre done with packing your bag, taking it right from your hands the second you step out of your class.

“so.. who was that?” he cant help the way his voice suddenly sounds so soft, as though its about to crack, as if hes about to cry. he tries to clear his throat to even it out, and even so, he definitely sounded a little too out of character - out of character for how he presents himself: nothing short of perfect. and he knows youve caught it, the cats out of the bag, when he sees the sides of your mouth tug up a little as you zip your bag.

“just a classmate reo really…” your voice a little teasing, looking at him knowingly, as his hands tug at your bag, slinging it around his right shoulder where it should belong. and he thinks its alright: the way you ruffle his hair that feels just so right that he leans in even closer and even bends down a little like a dog desperate for a pat, the way you beam at him that he knows is meant only for him that shifts the rest of your class to be nothing more than just a blur, the way your bag fits snugly on his shoulder as it was meant to be.

“yeah? it better be!~” he chirps, jealousy no longer gripping onto him like a chain tugging at his neck, reminiscent of the feeling he feels in his stuffy and restrictive home. and he knows it’ll be that way until the end of time: the way your hands tugs at his tightly as though you never want to let go either, the way you look at him as though he’s your entire world, the way you understand him even through a few words. soulmates, maybe, and perhaps he has no reasons to ever feel this bitter feeling that burns his throat.

#itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin fluff #rin x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi x reader #nagi fluff #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo x reader #reo x reader #reo fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #rin.<3

2K notes · View notes

em1i2a3 · 1 month ago

Text

I Do Love You

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Bob go to the mall to find a gift for Bucky’s birthday party, only to get sidetracked with a different goal by the end of the trip. (This is a continuation of ‘The Air That I Breathe’)

Warnings: None, just pure fluff, and the established relationship between Bob and the reader, but that’s already known lol.

Author’s Note: I really wanted to do a little continuation of this, just a little fluff for a Friday. Just to ease back and relax a bit. I also enjoyed writing the first part so I really wanted to add to it :) (Literally running out of Bob gifs lol, I’m grasping at straws!)

Word Count: 3,802

The mall was unusually quiet for a Saturday.

Not completely empty–just…Hushed. There were still groups of people drifting in and out of shops, with fingers skimming over fabric racks, and occasionally you would hear voices rising near the escalators–but the usual chaos that weekends brought to a standalone mall was missing. No screeching kids tugging at their parents arms, no lines trailing outside of the newest pop up stores, no teenagers crowding the food court in packs. It was just a soft, steady rhythm of footsteps over tile, the low hum of dimmed overhead lights, and the familiar hiss of the air conditions kicking on in long pulses.

It wasn’t what you expected. Youhad braced yourself for the crush of bodies and the wail of pop music blasting from every storefront. Instead, it was all muted colors and diffused light, like someone had dimmed the saturation of the world. The skylights overhead stretched long and pale, casting thin streaks of daylight across polished floors that gleamed from fresh wax. The indoor trees–fake, but convincing if you just glanced at them–were strung with twinkle lights that hadn’t been removed since the holidays. A janitor pushed a cart quietly past the fountain, which was still running strong despite the chipped tile at its base.

You and Bob walked in step with one another, hands clasped in the space between you, fingers laced with the kind of casual intimacy that had become second nature over time. Your free hands were occupied with your respective drinks–yours a black iced Americano in a clear plastic cup that you sipped absently, letting the bitterness bloom on your tongue like an anchor to the cool quiet of the day. Bob’s was a frozen vanilla cappuccino, already half-melted and turning to slush at the bottom. He’d chosen it after much deliberation, mumbling something about wanting to try something “f-fun and different,” and then proceeded to complain that it was “a l-lot sweeter than expected,” though he hadn’t stopped drinking it since.

The two of you rounded the corner past a perfume store, the sharp floral scent bleeding out into the walkway. Bob wrinkled his nose subtly, and you glanced sideways, noticing how his eyes scanned the stores as you passed–not with the sharp focus of a man on a mission, but the distracted softness of someone enjoying the moment too much to rush through it.

You hadn’t forgotten why you were here though because the original plan was still the same: find something for Bucky’s birthday that didn’t suck.

You and Bob had spent the last few nights curled up together on his bed, bathed in the dim glow of your phone screens and the quiet static hum of the compound’s late-night silence, clicking through endless websites. Etsy, Amazon, specialty gift sites, forums you weren’t entirely sure were even safe to be browsing–if it could be searched, you’d searched it. Bob would type every keyword you could think of, while you suggested ideas.

It wasn’t that Bucky was difficult to shop for–he wasn’t. Not in the way that, say, Alexei was, where the safest bet was to just get something oversized and vaguely related to food. Or Yelena, who just flat out told you what she wanted. No, Bucky was simple, but he refused to give any ideas because he didn’t even want a party in the first place.

You wanted something he could actually use. Something he wouldn’t just tuck onto the far right of his bookshelf next to the unopened shaving kit and that random bonsai tree John gave him as a joke. You’d considered knives, obviously, but he already had too many–and frankly, so did everyone else on the team. A leather jacket? Too obvious. A watch? He didn’t wear the one he had. Something from his past? That was even harder. You had an entire tab open dedicated to ‘gifts for men from 40s,’ and most of it felt either too kitschy or like it belonged in a nursing home catalogue–or it gave you an ad for a nursing home even.

Eventually, you had sighed dramatically and turned to Bob, who had a chip between his teeth and a frown carved into his forehead like the pressure of picking the perfect gift might take him out permanently.

“We’re going to the mall,” You surrendered. “It’s the last resort.”

So here you were. On a reconnaissance mission. Tired, slightly over caffeinated, and hoping divine inspiration would strike between the candle shop and whatever kiosk was now selling bedazzled phone grips.

Bob hadn’t complained though. Not once.

In fact, he’d seemed almost grateful for the excuse to get out with you, his hand warm and steady in yours, his thumb brushing lazy lines over your knuckles while you wandered past storefront after storefront.

“Y-You sure he’d want s-something practical?” Bob asked as the two of you paused outside a camping supply store, where a full-sized mannequin in camouflage held a cooler in its hand with a fishing rod hanging behind it.

”I think he would use something practical,” You replied, taking a sip of your drink, “He just wouldn’t admit to liking it, but at least he would be using the thing, and that would be proof he liked it.” Bob hummed thoughtfully, glancing between you and the window.

”So…M-Maybe something like a weighted blanket m-might do? He’s g-got sleep issues.” You tilted your head, eyeing the mannequin like it might come alive and offer you unsolicited advice. Bob was still looking at you, one eyebrow raised with that quiet kind of curiosity he reserved just for you.

“It sounds like a good idea,” You admitted, “But summer’s coming up…” You took another sip of your Americano, letting the ice clink against your teeth. “He’s gonna be sweating bullets if we get him something with that much insulation. And we both know he already sleeps like he’s one nightmare away from flipping the mattress.” Bob nodded slowly, brows furrowed in thought as he sipped the last of his cappuccino slush through the straw. The sound was loud and final.

“I’m p-pretty sure they have cooling o-ones. We c-can go look in o-one of those ‘A-As Seen On TV’ stores…I-If they have one in there.” You sighed and gave Bob’s hand a light squeeze.

“You know I can’t say no to you…” You muttered, though the corners of your lips twitched into a fond smile. “Alright. We’ll check. Worst case scenario, we get a knockoff Snuggie and a weird back massager we can pretend is from Alexei.” Bob chuckled, pleased with himself, and then you perked up slightly with a new idea.

“Wait–what if we did, like, a gift basket? Not one big thing, but a bunch of little things. Stuff that’s useful or fun. Like a tactical care package.” Bob’s eyes lit up.

“Th-That actually…K-Kinda sounds perfect.” You nodded, a little more energized now that you actually had somewhat of a plan coming together.

” A cooling blanket, maybe a multi-tool thing, some weird little gadgets that’ll make him roll his eyes but secretly love.” You gestured down the corridor. “C’mon. Let’s hit that ‘As Seen On TV’ store. Bet we’ll find all the gifts in there.” As you turned down the next wing of the mall, you passed a jewelry store.

You didn’t mean to glance.

But you did.

Just a flicker of a look—enough to catch the glint of warm light over polished silver, gold, and rose gold. A neat little display of rings rested front and center. Not gaudy or flashy. Just elegant. Meaningful.

Your eyes lingered on one in particular. Something small. Subtle. A band that glinted in the light with a barely-there pattern etched around its edges.

And that’s when Bob noticed.

You didn’t see him looking at you, but he did. Just for a second. His gaze shifted from the display window to your face, catching the soft change in your expression. That quiet, contemplative breath you took. The way your fingers curled gently around his. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

He just kept walking.

But his hand didn’t let go of yours.

The “As Seen On TV” store was tucked into a corner of the second level, sandwiched between a sunglasses outlet and a place that exclusively sold oversized hoodies with cartoon frogs on them. Inside, it was a chaotic collage of flashing signs, colorful boxes, and product demos looping on grainy monitors.

Within ten minutes you and Bob had collected a whole array of things in your arms. A compact ‘6-in-1 tactical pen’ that could break glass, shine a light, open bottles, and also had a hidden knife on the end of it. A cooling weighted blanket made with ‘NASA-Developed temperature control gel,’ Bob mentioned he was probably going to look into it when they got back to the compound, but you both knew Bucky would like it. You added a hand-held muscle massager because he complained a lot about shoulder pain, and you also got him a little fidget ring, as you noticed he would wring his hands a lot when he was focused.

By the time you got to the register, you were confident you had the makings of a half-sincere, half-affectionate care package that Bucky would grumble about, but use .

Afterward, you wandered to the food court, the late afternoon light softening as it filtered in through the high windows above. It was quieter than you expected. Most of the tables were empty. The two of you grabbed hot pretzels and a bottle of water to split, settling into one of the corner booths overlooking the fountain below. Bob tore a piece of pretzel and popped it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“S-So we have t-to put in the cake order still, right?” You raised your eyebrows.

”Shit. Right. We need to do that.” He nodded, licking salt off his thumb.

”Yelena m-mentioned it needed to be a s-sheet cake…D-Do you know how many people a-are showing up to this thing?” You bit the inside of your lip as you tore off a piece of the steaming pretzel, popping it into your mouth quickly and chewing.

“They say it’s going to be around fifty people, apparently,” You said around a mouthful of buttery salt. “I don’t know where they got the idea Bucky would want a fifty-person birthday party, but…You know Yelena and Ava.”Bob winced in agreement.

“O-Oh, I know them…”He said, eyes wide in mock horror. “I c-can tell they want this to be a b-big thing for him…” You snorted.

”If they ever find out when my birthday is, please, for the love of God, attempt to prevent them from doing this to me.” Bob smirked and reached across the table, taking your free hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like a slow, secret comfort.

“I-I’ll do my very best…” He said softly, “But…N-No promises.” You groaned, head thunking lightly back against the seat.

“Who am I kidding…You’ll fold like a lawn chair because of Yelena.”

“She has a convincing tone,” Bob admitted sheepishly, then took another bite of his pretzel and chewed in thoughtful silence.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The hum of the fountain nearby filled the quiet space between you, soft and steady. You could see a small kid tossing coins into it from afar, his mother half-distracted by her phone. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon sugar and frying oil, the kind of comforting scent that belonged to places like this–transient and nostalgic.

Then Bob shifted slightly in his seat, and the movement pulled your attention back to him.

“B-Before we go to the bakery to p-put in that cake order…” He began, carefully, like he was choosing each word with precision. “W-We need to make one more stop.” You tilted your head and raised your brows.

“Yeah?” Where?” Bob’s smile twitched slightly at your question, shy but steady.

“J-Just finish your pretzel,” He said, nudging your foot under the table. “I-I’ll take you there.” You arched a brow, tearing another piece of buttery dough and popping it into your mouth.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to surprise me,” You replied with a teasing glance, chewing slowly, “You always get too nervous and end up telling me halfway through your plan.” Bob snorted through a crooked smile, eyes dipping to his lap for a second before glancing back at you.

“I-I can be sneaky s-sometimes.” He commented, with the smallest bit of pride in his voice. You both laughed–soft and easy. That kind of shared laughter that came with knowing each other’s rhythms, with time and trust and more late nights than you could count. It filled the little corner of your booth like a secret, golden thing. For a moment, the stress of the party, the people waiting for you back at the compound–none of it mattered. There was only the sound of the fountain, the warmth of your joined hands, and the last few salty, satisfying bites of a hot pretzel.

When you were both finished and had tossed the wrappers, Bob stood, pulling you gently to your feet. His hand stayed in yours, thumb brushing against your skin like a grounding line. Then he stopped a few steps from the table and turned to you.

“O-Okay…” He said, a little breathlessly now. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck. “C-Close your eyes?”

You tilted your head, curious now. “Really?”

“R-Really.”

You studied his expression for a beat–soft, a little nervous, but sure–and then gave in with a tiny smile, dropping your gaze and shutting your eyes.

“Alright. I’m trusting you not to walk me into a mall fountain.”

“N-No promises,” He muttered under his breath, just loud enough to make you snort. The next few steps were slow, careful. His hand was firm in yours, guiding you through the open concourse. The hum of the escalator faded behind you, and you could feel the shift in light–how it brightened a little with each step as you neared one of the storefronts with big windows and carefully positioned spotlights.

You felt him pause.

Then, just barely above a whisper: “O-Okay…Open your eyes.”

You blinked.

And found yourself standing in front of the jewelry store. The same one you passed on the way to the ‘As Seen on TV’ store. The one with soft gold lighting and velvet-ringed displays. The one you’d dared to glance at for too long. The one he hadn’t said a word about–until now. You looked at the store, and then at him. Your brows lifted slowly, your mouth parting just slightly.

“Bob…” His cheeks were flushed, but his eyes–those impossibly open, sea-glass blue eyes–were steady. There was a tremble in his hand, but not in his voice when he finally spoke.

“S-Since we have time…” He said, quiet but certain, “I thought maybe we c-could…Ring shop.” You didn’t answer right away, because the lump forming in your throat made it hard to breathe. But then your hand squeezed his, your smile softened, and you nodded once.

“Yeah,” You whispered, heart thudding somewhere beneath your ribs. “Let’s do it.”

And just like that, he stepped forward with you, into the golden light.

The store smelled faintly of polished wood and something floral–freesia or lavender, maybe–soft and expensive in that way that made everything inside feel just a little quieter. The lights were warm but diffused, and the cases gleamed beneath them like little glass temples, each one home to tiny artifacts of love and promises.

You stood beside Bob just inside the entrance, hands still laced, the silence between you held like a thread made of gold.

It was the kind of store you’d walked past a thousand times but never stepped into. You suddenly became very aware of your shoes, your breathing, the fact that you were holding half of Bucky Barnes’ birthday present in a tote bag. Bob gave your hand a little squeeze, and you looked up at him,

”You o-okay?” He asked, voice low. You smiled, a little stunned.

“Yeah. Just… I’ve never done this before.”

He leaned a little closer. “M-Me neither.”

That made you both laugh–nervous, but soft. It broke the tension just enough that you both stepped forward.

The glass counters curved around the perimeter of the room, broken up by matte black display stands that held small, velvet-lined trays of rings. Some with diamonds. Some without. Some that looked like they belonged in a royal family’s vault, others so simple they almost looked like silver wire bent into a promise.

Before either of you could make a move toward any of them, a store associate appeared–young, sharply dressed, and carrying an air of practiced calm. She smiled gently, eyes warm as they glanced between you and Bob.

“Welcome in,” She chirped. “Looking for anything specific today?” You hesitated. Bob, however, cleared his throat and took a small step forward.

“W-We’re just…Uh, l-looking,” He replied, shifting his weight slightly. “I-I mean–we’re here for rings of course. B-But not like–well…We’re g-getting ideas.” The associate didn’t blink.

“That’s a perfect place to start,” she said. “Anniversary? Promise? Something custom?” You opened your mouth, but Bob beat you to it.

“I-I want something that…That’ll represent our relationship,” he said, his voice gaining confidence the longer he spoke. “We m-may not have time to get married for a while–but…” He trailed off, causing the associate to smile and gently cut in.

”You wanted to make it official.”

“Y-Yeah. Exactly.” Something fluttered in your chest at how easily she understood. And how quickly Bob had agreed. She gestured to one of the nearby trays.

“Alright then,” She started, “Let’s look at a few options. Something durable but meaningful, right? Not too flashy?” You nodded.

”Sounds about right.”

“Great. We’ll focus on comfort-fit bands–platinum, white gold, titanium, something simple that could last through…Well, anything.” Her gaze flicked knowingly to Bob’s frame. “You two strike me as people who live a little out of the ordinary.” Bob laughed, soft and sheepish.

“Y-You don’t know the half of it.” She began laying out a few bands in a neat row–some with subtle etchings, others smooth and classic. She slid one tray forward toward you, and another toward Bob, encouraging you both to take your time. You picked one up between your fingers, the metal cool and slightly heavier than expected.

“Is this weird?” You asked quietly, glancing up at Bob. “To do this now?” He looked at you like you’d asked if the sky was real.

“No,” He said. “I-It’s…It’s us. That means it’s not weird.”

You smiled, ducking your head to hide how hard your heart was thudding. Bob’s fingers hovered over the tray for a long moment, eyes scanning the rings with a kind of reverent attention–like they were artifacts he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch.

Then, he reached out and gently picked one up.

It was a rose gold band–slender, but not dainty–with a single oval-cut tourmaline set into the center. The stone caught the warm lights above like it had been waiting for them all along. It shimmered with shades that shifted each time it tilted: black at its base, deep amber at the edges, and flecks of deep sapphire swimming just beneath the surface. Like a nebula sealed in glass. Like light and shadow arguing quietly.

Bob held it between his thumb and forefinger for a long moment, studying the way it shimmered. Then he turned to you and, with a shy tilt of his head, extended it in your direction.

“C-Can you try it on?” he asked, voice just above a whisper. “J-Just so I can see what it…what it’d look like on you.”

Your heart skipped.

He didn’t say it was an engagement ring, but he didn’t need to. You could feel the weight of what he meant in his gaze–how tender it was, how full of things that hadn’t been spoken yet. You smirked a little, but your fingers were steady as you took the ring and slipped it onto your finger.

It slid over your knuckle with a soft resistance and settled at the base like it belonged there. The stone shimmered in the warm light, casting rose gold tones into your skin and splintering them into color. Bob stared for a second longer than he probably meant to. Then his lips curved into a soft smile.

“It s-suits you,” He said, breathless. “The colours do t-too.”

You tilted your hand, watching the way the light shifted through the gem–deep shadows at the base, that strange gold glow, and a flicker of blue right at the center. Your head tilted, a thoughtful smile curling at your lips.

“It’s the colours of you, Sentry and the Void.” You pointed out softly, Bob’s eyebrows drew together slightly.

”I-I’m not blue though…” He replied, almost in a mock defence. You turned to him, with your brows raised. A smirk appears on your lips.

”Yeah, but your eyes are, you little Bozo.” That got him. He huffed a short laugh, eyes crinkling as he tried to suppress a bigger grin, but failed.

“O-Okay. That’s fair.” You both laughed then–soft and unguarded, laughter that cracked open the nervous stillness of the moment like sun breaking through clouds. The associate across the counter smiled faintly but stepped back a respectful distance, letting you both have it.

The moment.

The breath between laughter and everything it meant.

Bob glanced down again at the ring, then up at you, the glow of the store lights catching in his eyes. Something in him shifted–a soft settling, like he’d made some quiet decision in his heart even if he hadn’t said the words aloud yet.

“D-Don’t get too attached,” He teased gently, tapping the edge of the ring with a fingertip.”M-Might have to wait for the day where…You know…I m-make it official.” You blinked once. Then smiled, slow and wide, heart full and fluttering.

“Guess I’ll just have to wait and see then,” You murmured, voice low and full of something golden, as you continued to stare at the ring in absolute awe.

466 notes · View notes

killishin · 2 months ago

Text

— ♡ right person at the right time.

PART 04.

pairing: jason todd x reader

category: lots of fluff, angst, he fell first she fell harder kinda trope, sfw, thinking of making this a slow burn but we'll see.

content warning: afab, mention of death (reader's mother), violence here and there, mention of blood, inaccurate medical talk, not proofread

summary: reader's just a normal citizen of Gotham, scrambling to making ends meet. after a fateful encounter, when he saw the reader kick ass and save a life- he can't get them off his mind. and fate just keeps pulling them together forcing him to do something about it.

a/n: im having a shit week but at least i have time to write. enjoy :)

wc: 3.8k

fic masterlist. previous. next

dividers by @cafekitsune

easing back into normalcy wasn't easy, not after that very weird, very out of the blue— very pretty— gift. you had wrapt it back in its box and kept it safely on your vanity as if your clumsy hands would somehow shatter the rubies. you had decided to give it back to red. you knew well in first glance that it would have hurt his pockets hard enough— and you just can't accept something that expensive as just an apology.

but he didn't turn up. that sly idiot did not come, it has been a whole week now. and you tried to rationalise that he has far more responsibilities on his shoulders than to play buddy buddy with you but you just wanted to return something that you possibly don't deserve.

you kept your grubby hands off of it without any problem initially, then your heart began tugging you along, wanting you to just wear it. its pretty, you love pretty things who doesn't?

your eyes stared at it, lips puckered in a deep frown, struggling with the polite part of you. the rubies stared back, like sirens calling.

that's when there was a knock, no not on the balcony but from the main entrance. you almost released a disappointed sigh as your heart had momentarily awakened in anticipation of that vigilante.

you opened the door and Kira barged in with bags— shopping bags held on both her forearms. you closed the door with an amused smile and folded your arms, "looks like you finally emptied your bank account huh?"

she rolled her eyes but her giddy smile stayed etched, "of course not! i didn't pay for it. at least not mine." your brows furrowed and she continued, "we're going to the gala!"

in contrast to her excited yelling, your brows just further furrowed, lips scrunching up as you walked towards her, poking at the bags in confusion and suspicion. dresses, two in total. "who's we, kira?" you questioned before giving her a pointed look, "tell me you don't mean me."

kira is a reporter, a good one at that, just reaching her prime and she has been to a good number of galas.

her lips turned downturned, brows furrowing and you immediately scoffed, "i can't believe you—"

"but its a gala."

"filled with those snobby, rich, insensitive—"

"it has great wine. and food."

"i can get great food at the diner down the road. and its made by a sweet old lady-"

"its a Wayne gala."

your lips seized for a moment, stopping as you registered the words. in your eyes all those charity galas are nothing but places for the rich to practice their laughs and stew in gossip. but you've heard of the most talked gala, the ones the Wayne's throw. and while you still have your reservations about it, you know its one of the genuinly best parties. it has the best cuisine selected, the wines are somehow always something new and better than last, the arrangement actually shows refined taste.

maybe for a day you can set aside your differences, at least you can have an experience of a gala, the best one at that. even if it'll suck at least you'll have a story to tell.

so you consider, much to your chagrin, you do.

"its still gonna be filled with those pricks." you grumbled, though it sounded more petulant than firm and she bit back a smile, "yeah but who says you gotta talk with anyone of them? I'll quickly scope any scoop i can get then we can dance, and drink and eat- all while looking the most gorgeous in the room."

and she's got you.

"alright when?"

"dress up, pretty. we're leaving in an hour." she winked before happily taking the bags to your room and you followed behind with a sigh.

"its been soo long since we went out together-"

"didn't we just eat dinner together yesterday?"

"that wasn't going out, that was just stewing in each other's depression." she scowled before stopping dead on her tracks, her eyes trained right on the earrings.

"oh. my. god."

"oh shit—" you cursed under your breath before rushing to hastily close the box. she clicked her tongue in annoyance before swatting you away, opening it back up and gasping yet again.

"who gave you these?!"

you reeled back a bit with an offended frown, "why did you assume someone gave it to me? i could have bought it too."

"with that salary? yeah right." she scoffed before back to cooing at the earrings as if its literally her baby.

"out with it. who gifted you these hm??" she teasingly asked and your groaned, pulling the box gently out of her grasp and putting it back down.

"no one. i mean— a friend."

"right a friend." she scoffed, "at least he's a loaded one for sure."

"its nothing kira. im gonna return it."

"why?!" she stares at you like you just committed a heinous crime, making you scoff. "because its too expensive?"

"so??" she scoffed back as she rested a hand on her hips, "come on if this didn't hurt the pockets of the one who gifted you, you should just thank the daylights outta them and wear it."

"but—"

"not wearing it will be a disrespect to the gift. to the person."

"....you know this is called manipulation?"

"not if its for your best interests." she shrugged as a cheshire smile adorned her lips, "also they're just too pretty to return because you're an emotional idiot."

and so she finally convinced you to go, wearing those rubies. you felt a bit bad for wearing them without even thanking him prior to it. the guilt was there, like a persistent ache, but it lightened at the sight of them on you. they really were beautiful, you didn't linger on why he specifically bought rubies, chalking it up to him just really being obsessed with red.

and as you left, lost in the shine of the red on you, you failed to notice the red reflecting off the glass of your balcony.

"kira what the fuck?"

"i know."

it was beautiful, down from the drapes to the architecture, the carefully selected wine that tasted just the right amount of sweet and fizzy, the chandelier— the chandelier. it was straight out of some fantasy, some fairytale and all its missing is the fluffy gowns. of course its ethereal, it would be since its held in the Wayne manor itself— something kira failed to mention.

"you didn't tell me it was hosted right in the manor!" you whispered to her, nervously yet awkwardly looking around. it wasn't that you were a mess at interactions, its just you don't want to be caught fawning over the art and architecture all for a rich snob to sneer at you. you really do not want to out yourself in a sea of sharks.

"it was supposed to be a surprise!" she grinned, this time it really was innocent and you sighed, shaking you head as you smoothened your dress for the umpteenth time.

"you gotta relax, pretty." she reassured, gently steering your shoulders towards herself, "do what you like. flirt with whoever you want or simply geek out about the art. the people here are way too self absorbed to notice us, trust me." times like this you really do feel grateful for a friend like hers.

"and if someone bothers you, i'll take care of them. just holler." she grinned wickedly, winking at you as she pulled back.

"holler? in the middle of the gala?"

"yep." she chuckled as she started walking away, "they won't remember us anyway."

you shook your head as you stifled a laugh, something told you she has brought the wild side of her to a lot of galas.

but then you realise you're alone. while she makes her round for any potential scoops, you need to keep yourself company. so you snatch a wine before looking around, actively avoiding everyone's eye. you pick a relatively empty corner by the huge window stool, leaning against the wall as your eyes admire the particular painting up on the wall.

"not fond of socialising i presume?"

your skin jumped a bit, the wine sloshing around in the glass a bit as you looked beside you. you really didn't hear him— him, oh he's a gorgeous him alright.

"didn't mean to startle. dick grayson." he smiled, a certain playfullness to it before he extended his hand towards you.

your eyes flickered to his hand and then his eyes, skeptical but also a bit confused. not only have you seen him somewhere that name sounds awfully familiar—

"oh!" your brows jumped up as you shook his hand, quite a reflex action since you realised this damn manor was technically his home. "hello— hi. sorry i didn't recognize-"

"its no problem." he chuckled, amusement rolling off of him and you're already starting to see the proof of his charm that the gotham talks about, "i tend to gravitate towards the more interesting people in these boring galas, so i should be the one apologising if i... intruded."

he did not sound apologetic at all, instead his eyes simply flared with delight as he looked down at you. it unsettled you, not exactly in a creepy way, but you do want to be a part of whatever he is concocting in that pretty head of his.

"interesting? how is me standing in a corner interesting?" you mused as your raised a brow at him, willing your nerves down. he stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets before looking around, his brows furrowing in fake annoyance.

"you're not among them, gossping and bragging. or feeling me up." he makes an exaggerated shudder of his body before sighing and you stifle a laugh, "the gotham elite has some drama every other tuesday, so i get them needing to gossip." you shrugged and he caught the way you subtly grouped him with them.

"also i thought you liked the attention. i don't mean to assume, but it certainly looked that way in the tabloids." you said and he immediately grinned teasingly , "really didn't take you to be interested in tabloids."

"im not." you come to your defense, quite quickly so, "but i see them here and there. in passing." you're definitely not going to accept that in front of anyone, much less the source.

out of the corner of your eye you noticed the center being cleared, lights dimming down. as if that was exactly what he was waiting for he extended a hand and did a little bow, and you wondered just how many people has he charmed to be this confident.

"great to know you're interested." he said and before you could deny that he tilted his head towards the center, where few had gathered. "a dance? something to break your assumptions." his smile wasn't inviting, it was challenging. everything about him seemed mischievous, as if he was upto no good.

still you accepted, and he was a good dancer. he swayed you right, the dip was perfect— though his hold did get tight suddenly.

dick on the other hand, he wasn't looking at the pretty lady in his arms, no, he was looking at his brother right across the room shooting daggers at him. he smiled back, wide and smug, before mouthing, "she's really gorgeous."

Jason's fist tightened as his jaw clenched in unmasked ire at his brother's antics. he would have regretted coming here, as he always does, but he really can't stand you in his arms.

so what happened was he had... eavesdropped on your conversation with your friend. he only wanted to check up on you but the mention of gala really caught his attention. more when the name Wayne reached his ears, he should have left at that. he never attends Bruce's galas, hates them with a passion— not to mention any interaction with bruce that puts him in the spotlight really throws him off. but then you wore the earrings— his earrings. and just like that his heart swayed.

it swayed so hard to the point he doned on the suit, full black and formal. and while the stares and whispers made his eyes twitch, he was far too enamored by the sight of you, beautiful and stunning. he can't help the pride that swells in his chest as the earrings glint in the warm light, he does have impeccable taste.

he would have approached first, he really wanted to but he wasn't red hood right now, he wasn't the red you knew, he was just.. jason. the man who promised to text back for the settlement of the coffee but left you on unread. yeah he really forgot about that.

and he was content with simply watching, but apparently his brother wasn't. dick was already flabbergasted when jason called him to let him know he's coming, reluctantly requesting him to handle bruce in case he swarms jason. and ever the curious cat that dick is, he needed to know why the sudden change of heart.

and his eyes followed Jason's line of direction and settled on you, immediately remembering you from the cafe.

now being the good brother he is, it is his... duty, you can say, to push his brother on the right path. and so that is why he is swaying with you, your innocent yet awkward smile in sharp contrast to Jason's glare at a distance.

his dimples simply deepened as he watched jason literally march to where you are, so confidently and smoothly evening out his frown before plastering the same charming smile dick has.

"really sorry to cut in." he wasn't. before you even knew what was happening, who it was and why the hell did dick wink at him—

oh.

Jason's hand engulfed yours, intertwining, while his hand slipped around your waist yet it felt as if it was hovering. he didn't even pull you close, the gap almost felt awkward yet his eyes didn't show that discomfort. he was giving you a choice, asking while respecting your space.

"you." you whispered out, and your brows raised slowly, "the guy who helped. jason was it?" you remembered his name, you weren't one to forget so easily. but it did hurt your ego a tad bit to not get a text back, its not like you were hitting on him, you simply wanted to return back the money.

his lips pulled into a sheepish smile as he looked away for a moment, cursing his past self for his stupid decisions. it made sense at that moment, to keep you at an arms length. "one and only."

you stepped closer to him, letting your hand rest on his chest, a silent permission and in an instant his hovering hand rested on your waist. it was just a simple touch, you shouldn't make a big deal out of it yet his touch burnt you— it seared through the very fabrics and found its way to your heart. neck warmed, heart thudded— your breath stuttered for a good second, but it wasn't noticeable enough, you hope.

it was to him.

he looked different, maybe its the lights or the suit, but he looked different, dashing. beautifully so. you couldn't help the subtle way your eyes lingered on him, not stagnant on a particular point but all of him. eyes, cheeks, scars, neck, lips—

"i really want to apologise. for not texting." he said, making your eyes snap up and you hoped he didn't notice how sweaty your hands got, or felt the heat searing your body.

he did.

of course he noticed, he noticed everything— he sees everything. but you don't, and for that he's thankful. he's entirely thankful that you didn't feel the twitch of his hand on your waist, simply to bury the need to pull you closer. you didn't notice the way his eyes softened when you let him be close, the way his lips parted. he could finally let his eyes be, admire you in your beauty while being jason and not red.

"can i know why?" he twirled you and gently tugged you back in his arms, they didn't feel cagey. for some odd reason something about him felt... familiar. the proximity was less than it was with dick, yet it didn't raise any flags in your head.

"i mean i wasn't hitting on you. just wanted to return your money." you shrugged and that tone was enough to drag him out of his happy reverie, plunge him in ice cold water because you do not sound very pleased right now.

"i forgot about it— im so sorry." he winced out a smile as he swayed you a bit more, more snug and your eyes narrowed amusingly, " i forgot about it and since i don't bother with unknown numbers—"

"i mentioned my name. and i think i even added that im the person from the cafe." you cut through, faking an innocent tone but your eyes conveyed all the skepticism you felt , "the very same day too. so unless you've got amnesia— which you clearly don't— i don't see how you forgot about it." your smirk was challenging, taunting and his heart roared. it fucking roared in his chest. he should feel even a tiniest bit guilty but he doesn't. his mistake did lead to seeing you being mean and scathing— he loved that.

and as if some higher power (dick) was helping him, the tempo changed. it was faster than before, it had more tension.

it got his blood rushing, putting his rational side on the bench and letting his heart dictate every move. it was dangerous, it was stupid.

but did it matter?

one look at you, the slight pull of a smile on your lips and he doesn't even have to answer.

nope.

legs worked faster, his hands gripped yours harder, twirled you faster— till your back collided with his chest. you felt the slight brush of his jaw on your cheek, the smell of aftershave. the man you met in the cafe was gentle, reserved but nice. the man you're in the arms of is far more than that.

"anyway i can make it up to you?" he twirled you back around and pulled you close, his hand flat on your back. he tilted his head, and suddenly the gap lessened even more. you could see his eyes— the deep blue, the green. his pupils were dilated, depths that seemed to snatch you in them.

"by taking back the money i guess— you're good at this." you huffed out in slight surprise, your brows furrowing and he chuckled, deep and low enough to reverberate through you. "glad i could impress you."

"you were impressing me?"

"thought that was obvious?"

"no i thought you wanted to forget about me—"

you let out an inaudible gasp as he dipped you suddenly. you didn't know whether to be shocked or mad at him. but your heart didn't care for either, thudding so hard you wouldn't be surprised if the whole fucking room heard it.

"let me take buy you a coffee as an apology?" he whispered, smiling so smugly you scoffed at his audacity as he pulled you up.

"are you asking me out after ignoring me for weeks— no, months?" you questioned cheekily and he laughed, "im never gonna hear the end of it won't i?"

"you sound like you're already sure i agreed. i didn't yet."

"you didn't say no either."

"but i can."

"you won't though."

you glared at him but the smile on your lips gave away your amusement. your eyes caught kira in a distance, wiggling her brows at you.

you stopped before taking a step back, your body didn't appreciate being robbed of his warmth though. "it was nice meeting you again, jason."

suddenly grabbed your hand as you were about to walk past him, "the earrings look beautiful on you by the way." he smiled before walking away, the tip of his ears suddenly red despite the confidence he presented. your hand instinctively touched your earring and you smiled, yeah they are.

Jason's world was crashing down, hands twitching, curling and uncurling as it lamented the loss of you. he got a taste, and now he wants more. he already thought he had enough as red, meeting you in those little stolen moments were enough. but now he saw how you'd look in his arms.

his heart craves that.

its a storm in him, he should keep his distance. sever all ties all together, both as red hood and as jason. that would be the smart thing to do, the right thing. he shouldn't entangle his personal and vigilante life together, not that they weren't already. but at least to you, red and jason were different. and he thought both were undeserving of the warmth of life, all until you.

so why won't his heart want you? selfish, greedy— whatever his heart was it didn't matter, he didn't care. there was more than just a pull towards you, you had already made a snug little home in his heart and he couldn't find it in himself to evict you out. his mind and heart were yet again in a clash.

his phone vibrated. his brows furrowed as he looked down at it. immediately he scoffed out a laugh, you wired back the money. and texted him a lil something.

i don't like owing people. also i'm only free on weekends.

he shook his head. what storm, what clash? it didn't matter. it never did. you were already carving a you shaped hole through the walls around his heart.

"why the hell you didn't tell me you danced like that?!"

jason rolled his eyes at dick. he forgot how both him and bruce must have seen it all.

"i didn't know i could either." he muttered under his breath but dick didn't care, he wiggled his brows again.

"you guys looked snug and cosy."

"that you did." where the hell did Alfred come from?

"we were just dancing!"

"why didn't you tell me you were coming jason? and who was that lady?" great now bruce spawned out of nowhere.

"is this an interrogation?" he grumbled under his breath but dick only grinned.

"did she say yes?"

"to what?" jason frowned in frustration.

"you asked her out. did she say yes?" now he frowned for a whole different reason.

"i didn't—"

"you're dating?"

"excellent choice, master jason."

"im not—"

"oh he is. oh i wish everyone could see it." dick sighed exaggeratedly.

"you will tell no one—"

"already did."

jason rubbed his face as he looked up at the ceiling.

"i will shove your face in that horrible cake."

"....it wasn't horrible :("

taglist: @itzmeme @bmyva1entine @sept3mberchild @lightthatgoout @satan-s-ass @deadbeatphobos @starshinegrl @ttdamian

reblogs are appreciated :D

479 notes · View notes