#when he started singing I lost my shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 9 months ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐲 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫! | fushiguro tōji

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Not only are you drunk on a Friday night, but you’re a drunk, closeted succubus who is, unfortunately, under the care of the hot neighbor under your roof! Would you ruin the mood if he found out about your little secret? You don’t even wanna know!

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab/fem! succubus reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! reader + Toji are neighbors - age difference; reader is in late-20s + Toji is mid/late 40s - crushing/mutual pining - drug/alcohol usage - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping) - Daddy kink - sqǔitïng - anal play (m! receiving) - 69 + backshots + spooning + cowgirl positions - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - creampies - praise kink - pet names (baby, doll, dollface, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie) - implied marathon sex - mention of drool/spit, tears, and cum - not proofread; will do l8r.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.8k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: pulled this story out of my ass; I literally spent a whole single DAY dedicating to writing it. please enjoy, and tysm for 11.9k loveliesss ☆ love and appreciate u all !!

“…shit.”

There’s no way.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

Of all days for this to happen.

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

Tonight was already an eventful night, with the full moon shining brighter than the stars. Life has put you so fast in a whirlwind that you can’t recall the last time you permitted your body to unwind. Can you blame yourself, though? From moving to a new neighborhood and scoring a new job, things have kept you undeniably busy for the past few months. And not too mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit and lacking a drive for social interaction.

That’s precisely why your old college besties – Shoko, Utahime, and Yuki – pulled you out of your hideyhole and encouraged you to join them this Friday night to have some fun! “C’mo~n, lighten up! No more thinking about work or whatever; have some fun!” “Yeah, y’know you’re my biggest drinking buddy. Now, hurry up and share this cocktail with me!” The ladies pressure you to relax and enjoy the start of the weekend with some good drinks and delicious food. And, you hate to admit, it worked like a charm – the longer the hours went, the more you felt free as if all the weight holding you down had been lifted.

The only problem is, like all good things, that it had to end and that you had to go home. Now check this out: 1) you left your car at home because, again, you were rigorously dragged out of your abode by your college companions. 2) You were all pretty much drunk, enough for neither one of you to drive on the road. And 3) you guys are in the city, and catching a lift is not only a gamble but SUPER expensive! Guess that’s what you get for choosing a Friday night to free-ball.

However, when hope was lost, and you wouldn’t be in the comfort of your bed tonight, you received a text on your phone, and you could practically hear the angels sing in the heavens above!

Recent Message from: Neighbor Fushiguro

Yo. You home? I’m out in the city picking up stuff for the house. Need anything?

Thank God for neighbors, am I right? The chances of someone you know being within the same vicinity of you may be low, but never zero! Did you feel bad that you texted back saying you needed a ride back to your house? Sure. Did you feel extra bad when you asked a huge favor for him to drop your friends off at the nearest hotel? …Yeah.

But luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. The only thing you had to endure was him teasing you about your little outing (with the help of your friends in the back of his truck) and your tipsy persona. “Never took you fr’ one who drinks.” He scoffs while putting you down on your couch after slinging you over his shoulder because you complained about your feet hurting. Damn heels! “Neither one who gets drunk.”

“It wasn’t my fauuu~lt,” you whine with a significant stretch while your neighbor roams around. “My fwiends, they forced me to–hic–to do it…”

“Mm, do your ‘fwiends’ always push you over to do things?” He shouts from the kitchen; you can hear cabinets opening and closing.

“When you’re the youngest of the group, they do.”

“Well, maybe I gotta get to know ‘em so they can push you into goin’ out more. And maybe you can quit avoidin’ me when I invite you over.”

“I don’t try to avoid you!” You sprout defensively. “And quit teasing me, Toji! You’re supposed’ta be on my side; I’m the victim here.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya say.” Heavy footsteps draw nearer to where you are, and your heavy eyelids open to see a hand stretching towards you with a glass of water. “I’m here takin’ care of ya now, aren’t I, lil’ victim?”

A smile pulls your lips as you take the glass. “Thank you,” you express before a sip, and your neighbor lifts your feet to sit on the cushion beside you.

“Y’re welcome,” he places your legs on his lap, grabbing the remote to turn on the television.

You haven’t been in this neighborhood long enough to say you have friends. Don’t get it wrong; everyone you contacted has been lovely and friendly, and some have opted to help with your move! But aside from the casual greetings in the morning or the nods of acknowledgment, you barely know people who scratch the surface of acquaintanceship. Not to mention, it’s your fault for being a bit of a hermit.

…But, there is one neighbor you could say you’re pretty close with. Someone nice. Someone dependable…Someone attractive that you’re on a mission not to stare too much.

Toji Fushiguro lives two houses down from you across the street. Remember I mentioned you had people assist with your move? This widowed, middle-aged man was one of the nice handymen who aided you and your friends with your boxes and heavy furniture. You remember it like yesterday, seeing this brawny man stroll up your driveway on the sunniest day of June. You nearly mistook him for an Olympic athlete.

“So, y’re the one movin’ ‘round here?” The calm baritone of his voice was unforced. “Nice to know there’s a cute face on the newbie. Need any help?” It’s how he asked – so sultry and alluring you almost spaced out before nodding absentmindedly to his request for aid, hoping he didn’t notice you watch how the scar of his lip moved as he spoke. “Welcome to the neighb’rhood, kid.” Rarely do you have butterflies running amok in the pits of your guts, but they were challenging to deal with that day.

And it doesn’t get any better from that day forward. No matter how hard you wished not to run into this immediate crush of yours, he would somehow wheedle his way into your path. It started slow, exchanging hellos or good mornings whenever he left for work or you took the garbage out. Then came the “Want me to do y’r lawn fr’ ya?” or the “House down the street’s havin’ a little barbecue, wanna get to know people?” You thought moving away from the busy city life would die things down. However, Toji making your head race every chance he gets wasn’t a move you could envisage. Think about how you felt the day he asked for your number to keep in contact “fr’ emergencies…or if ya need anythin’, shoot me a call,” how your heart jumped to your throat! Oh, the girls never stopped teasing you when you told…

Nonetheless, you can’t deny how much help he’s been. Well, outside of that, just being a great neighbor all around. Besides being an absolute succor, he’s an outlet you can come to for anything. Whether for the house, the community, or just personal conversations, Toji’s someone you can admitlingly say you’d depend on. With trust built from day one, sharing pieces of yourselves to break down barriers, it’s safe to say that he is undoubtedly a friend who made your decision to move a worthy risk.

…Yet, what’s even more risky is being alone with him, something you do everything you can to avoid. Why? Look at him! Would you trust yourself to be anywhere with this man alone? Of course not! This is why tonight is the riskiest night you’ve ever bestowed upon your drunk self.

“You got somthin’ to say?”

“Huh?” You perk to reality, anxiousness filling you once you realize you had been staring at the man. “N-No, I’m sorry.”

He stifles a snort, grabbing your feet to massage them from the pain. “Oh, wanna act quiet. You were all bubbly in the passenger seat with y’re friends. Now y’re all shy because y’re stuck with me, huh?”

“T-That’s not true!” A lie; he was right on the mark. Your heart has been beating nonstop once he sat next to you. “It’s just that…I’m sorry for making you drive and pick me and the girls up.”

“Nah, don’t apologize,” his focus is on your feet as he kneads and rubs the sole of your foot. “Told ya I was around the area doing some shoppin’, so pickin’ ya up on my way back was easy.”

You take another sip of your water. “Shopping?”

“Mm, my kids are down here for the weekend, so I had to go out fr’ a bit and grab shit fr’ my daughter.” Ah, yes, Toji is a father; you remember him telling you about his two children in college, a junior and a sophomore. “They’re at the house right now; saw ‘em after I dropped stuff at the house before bringin’ ya home.”

You hum. “Sorry for stealin’ you from them for a bit.”

He shakes his head with a humorless laugh. “Please, they probably don’t even know I’m gone. They’re big kids. Plus,” your breath hitches when emerald eyes trail to you. “Now I get to finally have you all to myself, no curvin’ me and whatever this time.”

“I’m not tryin’ to curve…”

“Yeah, yeah.” He goes back to massaging your feet.

“…Thanks again, Toji. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” Your abdomen flexes at the use of the nickname. “You know I always got you…Say, did you hit y’r head somewhere?”

You blink, eyebrows furrow. “No? Why?”

He points to his temple. “Because I see like a lump right here.”

You mirror his movements, your hand touching the spot he’s pointing. And your fingertips meet with a lump on a location that sparks too much familiarity. You gasp aloud and cover the lump with your hand, the other covering your other temple.

Oh, no.

Black eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”

Play it cool! “Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine! You’re right; I probably hit my head somewhere while out.” You take this time to remove your legs off the comfort of Toji’s lap and stand up from the couch. “I’ll put something on it to stop the swelling.” You can also sense something aching down your lower back at that moment. Oh, hell no!!

“Ya sure? Need me fr’ any—“

BZZZZ!! BZZZZ!!

Toji’s cut off from the vibration of his phone in his jeans, pulling the device out to see that someone called “Megumi” was calling. Good, a distraction!

“N–No, no, I’m good from here.” You say through gritted teeth, the alcohol taking effect and making your stance a little buzzy to uphold. “J-Just stay here, I’ll be back!” You don’t even wait for his approval, turning on your heel and heading out of the living room to the stairs. Your body feels wobbly with every step you take, but you don’t pay it any mind because you can feel the lumps beneath your palms increasing. “God, please, not now, not today…!”

You march as fast as you can to your bedroom, nearly stumbling on the floor as you haul ass to your bathroom door. You do a terrible job watching your footing fall after rushing to turn the lights on, and stuff from the counter falls because of the impact. But you didn’t care, shuffling up so you could look at the mirror. And the sight you see fills you with immediate dread.

Horns are the first thing you see from either side of your head; the tips curl as if to form a crown but point to the ceiling. Your eyes are no longer human-like, pupils shaped like slits as if morphing into a reptile. And your ears get horizontally pointier. “…shit.”

You then lift your skirt and tear a hole in your pantyhose above the hem of your panties, and your fear quadruples at the sight of something long and slithery protruding out of the hole. A long tail with a pointy end; you lose your mind. “Shit, shit, shit, shit—”

It’s then you realize why this is happening: you had forgotten to take your daily supplements that are meant to subjugate these features of yourself. You’ve been taking them for the longest time before you moved into this neighborhood, so you’re used to your typical human facade. Now, seeing these parts of yourselves is the very LAST thing you need right now!

And then something hits you, an unsettling feeling that you’re too scared to confirm. Your eyes travel down to your shirt, your hands hesitantly pulling the bottom tucked into your skirt and lifting to reveal your navel. You then tug the top of your skirt to expose a spot you’re honed in on the mirror. And the urge to scream grows tenfold once you see a black marking on the lower part of your belly.

A womb tattoo!?!?

“Oh, my fucking God, not tonight!!”

“YO, HEY!” And just when it couldn’t get worse, you hear Toji coming up the stairs and beelining for your open bedroom door. Wait, no— “I heard screamin’ and a big ‘boom,’ you alright? Where are y—“

Your neighbor stops dead in his tracks once he appears in front of the bathroom opening; his concerned expression shifts to an immediate neutral deadpan. He stares at you, and you stare back at him, the silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. A ring fills your eardrums, dissociating from this entire scene and all its complications.

You want to cry. Maybe scream, throw up, or just straight up die on the spot.

Because this wasn’t the night for someone to find out you’re a succubus.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…”

“…So, what are you?”

Not even concealing your face in your pillow can hide you from the eventual questions of Toji, who sits idly on the corner of your bed. You cringe internally, never thinking this dilemma would befall you. The point of moving was to turn a new page in your life and leave the past behind with the city. Now, you are shriveling on top of your bed like a moody teenager, and your neighborhood crush is here to witness your depression.

“…What happened to your phone call?”

“It was my kid. I told him to lock the door since I’ll be out a little longer. Don’t try and deflect,” his blunt answer has you descend further to your inner turmoil. “How come I never seen these horns before?”

You sigh heavily; there’s no point in trying to divert now. “…I take supplements that hinder any features of my succubus appearance so I can look like an average human for the rest of the day.”

“Daily?” He sees you nod through his peripheral. “Succubus…the hell’s that?”

“Basically, I’m a demon that…that…” Yeah, no, let’s not finish that. “Never mind.”

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

“D-Don’t worry about it, it’s not—“

“Look here,” he speaks to you with a stern tone, a hand coming to your waist to shove you a bit. “I went ahead and picked y’re drunk butt up, made sure ya don’t puke up a storm, and now y’re here looking way different from before. The least you could do is explain.”

God, to be lectured by a human – totally humiliating…! “…I’m a demon that gets energy from…se–….sexu, uhh………..sexualactivitywithhumanbeings.”

The silence that trails after your ramble is beyond awkward.

“Oh.”

…

“Oh.”

God, just kill me right now!

The older man forces a cough. “So, you…have sex every day?” You can practically sense the tiny hint of discomfort from prompting that question.

“W-Well, I used to when I was younger. But I haven’t really…done it in a couple of years.” Jesus Christ, why is it so embarrassing to admit to someone other than yourself? This is the literal worst!

“Is that bad?”

“It’s, uhh…It can be?”

“So, why haven’t you done it?”

“Because…!” You snap your face out of your pillow and finally allow yourself to breathe correctly. “I just…I don’t have time like I used to anymore, and using my powers to make people forget afterward can get tiring. Also, the more times I do it, the more my drive gets intense from the last. The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

“…Well,” Toji turns to face you. “Have you ever had the urge recently?”

“I-” Woah. That question came out of nowhere, almost answering it without proper consideration. “Wh–What do you mean by that…”

He shrugs. “Like—you know what I mean—like, even though you try to suppress it, do you still have those urges to do…ya know, it?”

Things get a little uncomfortable here; now you wish you kept your face in that pillow. Tojo’s gaze on you is distinguished — gentle yet stern, matching his demeanor. He's calm and calculating and is waiting for your response to his strangely personal question.

“I…I, I don’t know.” It was another lie.

“Why’re you lyin’?”

“I’m not…!” Toji clicked his teeth with a face.

“Fine, answer me this then. Have ya ever thought of doin’ it since ya moved here?”

Yup, this question was far worse than the other. His words echo inside your noggin, bewildered with every syllable relaying. And the widowed man lifts his brow from the lack of an instantaneous answer. You open your mouth, but words fail to aid you, your tail shying away behind your shadow. “I-I…I don’t—“

“Ever thought of me?”

“Toji!” You shout defensively. Sure, it might’ve been out of line to ask. However, it’s the fact that he’s breaking your exterior with every question — because of how on-the-mark he is. You could never prepare yourself for that inquiry, the heat on your face growing more unbearable. How could he know of the frenzy he puts you through just for existing?

“I’m not dumb.” You peep Toji, turning his torso and facing his entire front in your direction. “You think I don’t notice how often you try to push me off when I invite ya over or know when y’re lookin’ at me when you think I’m not aware’?” He dents the bed with his added weight, and you forget to breathe, watching him inch closer. “Or act all shy and cute when I got you to myself?”

You gulp, your brain short-circuiting at the feeling of Toji’s palm on your thigh. There have been countless nights where you’ve thought of your neighbor more than once, indulging in fantasies you could never speak of to a soul, especially Toji himself. To let the man know of the dirty things you’d want him to say to you, the names you wish him to call you, the erotic things you’d like him to do to you — death is the only option necessary not to let that happen. Unfortunately, he seems to have a good idea now that he’s cornered you like this, and you’re too stunned to utter a word.

“It’s okay, though,” he whispers low now that he’s close to your face, and you have to hold back on letting out a yelp when his hand comes to hold your face, his index finger toying with your sensitive earlobe. “‘Cuz I love it when y’re all timid, can’t even look me in the face…Like now.”

You try to avert away from him, but his thumb brings your chin back to him. “Toji, please,” his name feels forbidden to say all of a sudden.

“Tell me ‘no’.” His nose brushes the tip of yours, and you chew your lip. “I’ll stop right now and leave, let you deal with this y’reself…Or,” he ghosts to your ear, and you quiver. “I’ll stay with you and treat you to what y’ve been scared to ask fr’.”

“Toji, wait,” Fuck, you can’t remember the last time you had your ears so keen, his breath brushing it enough to compel you to meltdown.

“Say ‘no,’ princess.” You’re locked under his forest-green orbs, and you swear you could hear your heart hammering your chest. “Or I’ll treat you right tonight.”

Perplexed eyes can’t move anywhere else, and your lips are wet from licking them without knowing. Is this really happening…? An inquisition you had no time to answer for yourself once Toji closes the gap, centimeters nearer with every millisecond.

I…can’t…

His face draws near, and your eyes reflex to close.

I don’t…want to…

Toji pulls you in for a gentle kiss; your thoughts radio silent after the contact of his scarred lips on yours. No shot. Your neighbor was kissing you right now — there’s no way!? This had to be a dream…! This is truly a wild night: not only are you tipsy to the noggin, but your neighborhood crush has found out your secret, and now you’re kissing that exact crush in your room?? Your muscles go tense at what is occurring.

He peppers your lips with kisses, forced to catch up with him as he claims your lips, a palm snaking to the back of your head to keep you steady. He licks your bottom lip, chewing gently to prompt the softest gasps out of your mouth. “C’mon, baby,” he coos to your sensitive ears. “Relax wit’ me.” You nearly melt at the lick of your helix as his free hand courses from your chest to your waist. The brush of his fingers onto your tail makes you jolt.

“Toji, wait,” you mutter under your breath as he nibbles on your pointy ear, your hands gripping the back of his black wife beater. “D-Don’t; I’m so sensi—Nmmm…!” Jesus, the moan you held back! Toji trails his mouth to your chin down to your neck to suck on your skin. And your lower half throbs harder. “Ahhh…hahhh…”

He returns his lips to yours; this time, his tongue runs on your teeth vigorously to seek entry. You submit after a chew to your bottom lip, whimpering as the older man inserts his wet muscle to greet yours. Surreal, isn’t it, to be tongued down by your neighbor? You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol, the twitches between your inner thighs, or the flick of his tongue and the sound of his purrs that have your face getting hotter.

And fuuuuuuck, he’s such a good kisser — scratch that, he’s an AMAZING kisser! You’re practically turning into putty in the palm of his hands as he lips you, tilting his head to a proper position with a soft push to your face as he deepens the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, and you mewl, helplessly quivering when he teases the muscle with nibbles. Your waist has a mind of its own while it sways involuntarily, rocking as you sink into the zealous kiss. He’s not overpowering you in any way; if anything, he’s so overwhelmingly comforting, his hand caressing your cheek tenderly, and soft noises of lips smacking and breaking apart bounce one after the other.

Then, you shrill unexpectedly. “…!! Mmahhh! T-Tojiii, d-don’t—don’t touch…Haahhh…”

“Oh? Well, lookie here.” Your ears perk at Toji’s chuckle. Unbeknownst to you, distracted by the intense kiss, your neighbor sneaks his hand under your skirt and touches your private zone shielded by your pantyhose, fingers pressing up on your vulva area. “All we did is kiss, and ya already got your panties wet?”

Embarrassed? Of course, it’s been so long since you were touched like this and out of practice. Now, your repressed emotions start to crumble out of their straightened form the more Toji’s middle finger rubs on your panties. And let’s not even mention your thighs motioning to ride on the digit, your dignity starting to disintegrate. “Ohhh, Toji…”

“Mmm? What is it, sweetie?” He nuzzles to your neck after licking and sucking on your chin. “Feelin’ good down there?” He curls his middle and forefinger to push. “Got ya all excited?” He receives a confirmed hum. “Tell me how y’re feelin’.”

You gulped thickly, your breathing shaking. “I-I’m feeling—shit…” he laughs lowly at your swearing. “Nnnm! You’re making me feel…so hot.”

“I can tell, you’re twitchin’ like crazy right on my fingertips.” His fingers move into a circular motion, and your mouth goes agape. “Fuck, man…Hey, hold on, I wanna do somethin’.”

Toji removes his fingers from under your skirt before you can tell, the heat between your legs going tepid as he withdraws from your figure to lay his back on the bed. But before that, he unzips and loosens his jeans to his butt. A noticeable tent of his boxer briefs has your lips locked to each other, and your eyes widen when he subtracts the material. Just when you thought this night couldn’t get any more crazier, you are awake to witness the display of Toji’s erection in real-time.

How long has it been since you’ve seen a real-life, living, and breathing dick before your eyes? You honestly can’t recall that; the responsibilities of human life have made you grow numb to your demon necessities that it no longer feels innate. However, the sight of your crush’s solid, girthy, excited cock is marveling. How your mouth waters as you ogle at it is borderline humiliating, eyes glued to the uncut tip.

“Like what ya see?” He asks smugly, kicking his jeans and briefs off and slapping his thigh. “C’mere, mama.” Oh, fuck, the quirk of your insides was unavoidable at his comment, primarily as he guides you closer to him. “Let’s warm up.” You yelp as he effortlessly moves your legs to where you straddle him. He pushes your skirt up to your waist, and you can hear the tear from your pantyhose. His thumb comes to slide your panties to the side, and he whistles. “Damn, lookin’ all pretty and wet fr’ me.”

It’s either the fact that Toj’s dick is inches in front of your face or your bare pussy out in the air in front of him; either one of the two has your mind going in a whirlwind. And it all comes to a standstill the moment you sense something wet and firm glide across your labia, and it takes everything in you not to tremble. “Mmm, oh, fuck,” he groans after licking your cunt, throwing in another lazy one to have you holler. “It’s been so long…Shit.”Toji’s hands curl from your legs to cup your asscheeks, keeping your butt near him to lap his tongue around your chasm. You whine as he licks you down, your teeth clattering at the sensation.

Oh, my God, your head begins to ache. It feels so good, your body finally coming back to the groove of things as you move your butt around. The man under you quickly latches his mouth onto you, a firm grip on your ass to keep you in place for him to service you. Speaking of service, your eyes flick to the erect limb before you, your mouth salivating with the run of your tongue across your teeth. Fuck, it looks so good; you admire internally before inching your face close to the length, your head getting dizzier from the sheer size and musk. Damnit…I wanna taste him so bad…!!

“Go on, dollface,” Toji gives your butt a playful smack. “I know ya need this bad.”

God, he’s so right — you need this; there’s no point in denying anymore. You blow on it before placing a tender kiss, noticing how it pulsates as your hand wrings around the shaft. You lick your lips before pecking at the uncircumcised tip, and Toji’s hold on you goes tighter. He’s sensitive, you note. Adorable. You stick your tongue out to swirl around the cockhead, bathing it with your saliva before you inhale it with a delighted hum, gradually warming up your loosened jaw.

Fuck, the taste of a cock — something that felt nostalgic the moment he graced your tastebuds. Your eyes water a bit, trembles rocking your figure as Toji sucks on your wetness, and every inch you intake fuels the haze that fogs your brain. You stroke and suck him simultaneously, a forgotten method that rekindles now in this moment. You coat him with your spit the more you relax your jaw, slurping him unapologetically as if a different part of yourself takes over.

On the other hand, Toji feels the same way. It’s been way too long for the widowed man since the last time he has been intimate with someone, let alone have a bare ass right in front of him. It’s no secret that he’s had the hots for you once you moved here, but having you on top of him like this is like something out of his wet dreams. The way you murmur cutely as you suck his dick turns him on so bad, a guilty pleasure come true as he drinks your nectar off your damp naked folds. His tongue teases around the entrance of your vagina before pushing it in, fucking your opening with his wet muscle. You cry on his girth, your tail cringing in the air from the stimulation. He spots it and grabs it from the base; how your lower half jolts to the grasp is humorously darling to him. So cute.

The minutes go longer as you two keep pleasing each other, and a soft whimper escapes your lips when you release Toji from your lips, lips plastering long and sweet kisses on his shaft as you massage the tip. Your other hand palms and kneads his ballsack, the jerk of his thighs rewarding to see, so you increase the pace of your hand.

“—Thhh, nmm!” Toji curses from behind, sluggishly licking from clit to your slit while succumbing to your touch and mouth. “Shiiit, just like that, baby, suck me off like t—Mmngh! Christ, I’m gonna..fffuckin’ cum…”

But then, you remove yourself from Toji’s member, the cold air instantly blanketing him. Green eyes blink as you move off of his lying body, observing you bending over with your face to the cold sheets.

“Toji,” you plea to him desperately, hooded eyes shining eagerly. “Please, I need it…Here,” you spread your ass, fully exposing your slit wet from your fluids mixed with his saliva. Jesus, you were heathing as if you were in heat. “Do it here, I need it inside…!”

You had the man shook; the cogs in his mind stopped working briefly. The picture of you presenting yourself like this to him was unexpected, but goddamn, did it turn him on astronomically! Toji stands on his knees and advances to you, removing his tank top and discarding it to the floor. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” You nod impetuously. “Words, sweetie. Need you to tell me what to do.”

“Toji, pleeease…!” You wiggle your ass until he cusps it, kneading your flesh lovingly to the point that your tail curls around his forearm. “Please, put it in, I wanna feel it…!”

“Yeah, is that what my princess wants?” You and Toji bite your lips when he aligns his tip to your inner labia, teasing you with grinding motions. “Does my demon baby want Daddy to mess y’r insides that bad?”

Oh, we’re playing that card, too? Holy shit, you were getting so wet from this! “Yess, Daddy, pleasee! Mess me up with that dick, wanna be filled up right nooww…!”

He can’t hide the proud grin. “Good girl. Here,” Toji begins to push the cockhead to you, and your lips flatten at the wince of pain that accompanies the push. “Stay still, and lemme reward you,” his hips move slowly in your direction, you grip the sheets to prepare yourself, and your nerves are dialed to a plane of exhilaration you can’t regulate. Oh my God, is this happening? He’s gonna fuck me? So many thoughts cloud your mind, too excited and anxious for what’s to come because it’s been so. Damm. Long. How’s it gonna feel? Is your body ready enough? How does Toji feel about this; is he just as nervous as you a—

Your train of thought is brought to an abrupt halt at the sensation of Toji’s tip finally inserting itself into your vagina, too absentminded that your open mouth couldn’t say a word. Oh, fuck it’s in, it’s in! Your eyes widen, your muscles tense, and your voice struggles to cry. The older man continues to add himself leisurely, the length sundering your slit and stretching your opening as you take him inch by inch. Your back arches instinctively, wailing silently as you can feel the foreign limb intruding your tightness, quick quirks of your frame as he rubs your velvety texture. Ohhhh, my God…!!

When he slowly starts to rut into you, recurring waves of rapture hit your nerves every. Single. Time! You’re entire body is rocked to the core with every short yet gentle pound; the feeling of Toji’s veiny cock scrapping your channel has you shivering. And once he’s encouraged to push his entire member until the very hilt, you yelp aloud when the tip kisses your womb. “—Oooh??!”

“—Mmngh!” Your quick spasm surprises Toji. “Ohhh, shit, there it is. Hmm? Is this where ya want me, mama? Want me right…here?” He snaps his hips swiftly, the rushed movement and hit to your cervix knocks you winded. And another, you keep wringing his shaft acutely. “Ahhn, God fucking damn i—Iisshhffuck, fuck, I can’t, gonna…Hnghh!”

Toji’s body shudders above you, bucking into your warmth with a jittery pattern. The prolonged reaction of his orgasm claims him now, succumbing to the silky, tight texture and how well you’re grasping onto his girth. He comes inside you, moaning as he ejaculates earlier than expected. You sense it, humming to the immediate filling. So warm, so full of his cock already that your toes curl.

And Jesus Christ, it felt so. Fucking, Good! You were no longer drunk from the alcohol; now, you were intoxicated by the prowess and pleasure of Toji’s dick.

“Hah, haaaah, fuck,” he throws his head back with a hiss, his abdomen relaxing from the earlier flex. Then, your tail glides up from his abs, feeling up on his skin and roaming on his happy trail. He snickers at your feline-like comportment, “Heh, actin’ all cute now that you got what ya wanted, huh?” You say nothing, bashful to his words, while your tail curls up to his chin. “Don’t go quiet on me now, dollface; I heard you squeaking and moanin’ seconds ago.”

Toji then returns to rut into you despite recovering from his climax, furled to have you shrieking uncontrollably for him. The smacks of his pelvis recoil the flesh of your ass, his come stuffed inside you now glued to his erection as he rocks into you balls-deep. “Mmmm, yeah, that’s right, baby,” he grabs your tail and wraps it around his hand to pull; you scream louder, and your vaginal walls clamp tighter than ever. “Arch more fr’ me, enjoy me—nmm…!—fuckin’ you real good.”

The pull of your tail makes your senses hypersensitive, perturbed by the stress of it being pulled, yet the enjoyment you feel from it is too inexorable to comprehend. Coherent sentences double down to undecipherable babbles, “—Daahh, hoohhfuuc—D-Daddyyy, Daddyyy…!!” Tears well up in your eyes as he inflicts blows to your ass, the pain too quick to prepare for yet the sting enough to make you rigid. “—Too much, ish t’oo muuuch…!”

Another smack to your butt, and you howl once again. “Huh, ya say that, but y’re milkin’ my cock like crazy.” He bends down to remove your hands that try to hide your face and horns with the pillow. “What, ya don’t like this? Hmm? Want me to stop?”

“No, nooo!!” You shook your head immediately; your vision blurred for a few seconds. “I loveee iit, I love this, love Daddy’s diick—Ahaaa!! More…I want moreee!” Fuck, this is bad; any more than this, and you’ll be addicted for sure.

“Good,” he whispers to your ears. Good Lord, you weren’t going to survive. “Because I ain’t done wit’ ya yet, princess.”

Before you can register his sentence fully, Toji straightens and lays on his side behind you, lifting your leg to create a suitable angle. He then plunges into you harder and faster, the different positions helping the sporadic cadence achieve deeper penetration while scraping your upper wall with ease. At this point, your body is too hot and sticky to care about anything else outside this room; your head pounding and too misty, your senses corrupted by the constant pokes to your cervix and the increasing haze that you don’t feel human anymore. Your succubus roots flourish, drool escapes your lips, and wanting nothing but this feeling to remain ceaseless.

“Gahh, ohhhDaddyyy, ahhahh,” eyes roll to your skull at the brush of your sweet spots. “Shhoo good, I fweel shoo gooood…! Harder, hardeeerr!”

“—Khhck, goin’ as hard as I fuckin’ can!!” Toji kisses your cheek after a lick, chewing on it after hearing you mewl submissively. “Jesus, this pussy, out of this fuckin’—Nnngh…world.”

You turn to him and claim his lips, and he reciprocates into your steamy kiss. Vulgar tongues exchange spit and encroach on each other’s mouth, and you helplessly suck on Toji’s after he shoves it, your puffy lips intaking the attractive noises he makes. And you slither a hand down to your clitoris to swipe erratically while your tail goes around Toji’s waist and curves into the crevice of his ass. Suddenly, Toji stiffens at the pointy end of your tail, tickling his anus, and the raven-haired man gasps at the insertion. Too stunned to speak, he can only move his hips rapidly, his white-ringed shaft digging deep into you with the help of stimulating his prostate.

“—Taahhh, y-you, lil’ minx…!” He breaks the kiss and bites your lip to hear you whimper. “Tryin’ ta make me cum again?”

You nod, breathing heavily. “Ohhh, Daddy, I’m so close…! Gonna come!”

“Me too, mama, me too…”

Hot moans and groans fly out of each other’s mouths, bodies stuck to each other as you both chase for release. Everything feels so fast, so hot, happening all at once; all you can think about is the grinding presses you push up on your delicate clit. Fuck, fuck! It’s coming, it’s coming…!”

Then, it arrives. Your cunt, aching for the climax, receives the crescendo you’ve been aching for this entire time. The walls of your vulva contract around Toji’s member, milking and wringing him as you come loose to your grounding. A clear liquid exerts out of your urethra, showering out to stain your panties, torn pantyhose, and bedsheets, your breathing losing its steadiness and falling to a jagged tempo. The same goes for Toji, who falls into his peak along with you; your fluttering folds force him to submit and release his second load into you with a hiss. The older man’s heaving frame keeps bucking into you until every drop fills you to the brim, burrowing his face deep into your neck to rest as the shocks rock you both.

Finally, everything goes quiet. The cozy atmosphere pulls you out of your heightened elevation and lays you down with silent clarity. Both you and Toji, sweaty and sticky all over, are still linked to each other as the high dissipates. Shuddering figures begin to calm down and fall at ease with the tranquility.

Toji kisses your neck, and you croon until he comes to lay his lips on yours for a tender peck, then on your soft cheek and your temple. He then removes his flaccid bulge, white fluids oozing out of your hole. “Damn, that was good,” he mutters breathlessly. “Hmm, how ya feel—“

The onyx-haired man couldn’t finish his question because of the sudden change of positions you abruptly conducted. He now lays on his back with you straddling him; the calm tone switched to an unexpected spiking mood.

You then hand grab his dick and arrange it back to your raised hips. Viridian orbs widen. Wait. The tip meets your labia once more before you descend it down. What the f—hold on— And then, his cock is swallowed back inside your wetness, and Toji grits his teeth.

“Sh-Shit, sweetie,” Toji’s hands come to your waist. “What’s up, aren’t y—“

“Sorry, Toji,” the man surveys with confusion, watching you strip off and throw your shirt somewhere. Your naked chest is now out for him to see, and his breath hitches when you place your hands on his pectorals while a span of bat-like wings springs out from your back. “…That wasn’t enough.”

Wasn’t enough?? He repeats with furrowed brows, noticing the half-lidded, lustful expression and the sharp dents of your canines. Then, it hits him:

“The desire of a succubus can be dangerous, you know? And since it’s been a while since I’ve let my powers out, I’m sure it’s nastier than ever…”

…Oh, shit. “Wait, we can talk about—“ You get your answer once you bounce on his cock without notice, Toji nearly choking on his tongue. Nope, no room for prattling.

“You let out so much, made my mind go so crazy,” you grind your hips on his pelvis, squeezing his limp cock while it gets firmer and firmer. “Feel so good…More, I want moreee…”

“C-C’mon now, baby, can’t we take a break for a minute at least—“You bring your face an inch away from his.

“Daddy,” your neighbor shudders at the gentle kiss you place under his chin. “Please take care of me like you promised, ‘kay?”

Your gaze lured him in, a trap he was foolish enough to fall for. Because now, he’s stuck under your bow as you begin to inflict an inescapable rhythm, rebounding on his erection until the base meets your folds. Choked groans suppressed by Toji, but take his lips with yours, enforcing a loving yet salacious spell with your satisfied moans. Now, your crush realizes you weren’t the meek, adorable neighbor he dotes on.

Tonight, he was yours to play like a fiddle…And shame on him for getting way more turned on than he should be!

Wow. Guess I’m dyin’ tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I should be fuckin’ dead right now.

Toji knew something was up when his eyelids opened, and his emerald eyes scanned the ceiling, instantly recognizing that he wasn’t in his master bedroom. The rays of sunshine are blocked from the curtains, yet the light of day crawls in and basks the room in a low glow. Chirps of birds outside greet him on the basking of a new autumn day, lying comfortably in the cold, silky sheets of the bed.

He wakes to a bit of a headache, mentally and physically groggy. Attempts to move are already tricky and aches all over his body keep him grounded in the mattress. Ugh, feel like I’ve lost all feelin’ in my legs; the man can’t even lift one leg without a grimace. And even his arms are challenging, one so oddly heavy as if it’s nailed down.

“Fuck, man.” His first words of the day are a curse, irritated by the drum of his head. He tries to lift himself; again, it’s not possible, agitating the man even more. And why the fuck is my arm so hea—

He doesn’t finish his sentence — the answer reveals itself once he turns his head to the left.

He sees you, surprised to view you in your natural form still. Horns have grown a little larger, yet still small enough for you to rest your cheek on his shoulder. You were sound asleep, faint snores picked up by his ears as he examined your face at ease with a peaceful slumber. Nude, the both of you, a hand wrapped around his left arm to stick close to you while the other is stationed at his chest, your bat wings shriveled together to not get damaged. And judging by the snake-ish feeling, your tail was curled around his bare thigh.

Strangely innocent to see after the events of last night flash into Toji’s recollection, funny to match such a lewd scenario to such a sweet face. He stifles a laugh, placing his right hand on the vulnerable one on him, his thumb caressing your knuckles as he grasps your fingers. Suddenly, some of the soreness he harbors feels light — glad I ain’t dead, I guess.

Your eyes jit behind your eyelids, a soft groan as you suddenly move and scrunch your face. Finally, your drowsy eyes sheepishly flicker open. Lidded gaze fighting the spell of sleep with every bat of your eyes.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” Toji greets you.

“…”

In real-time, Toji watches your somnolent morph into a gradual display of mortification. He’s a little envious to see you spring up with no strain on your body, wings batting out of their relaxed state, and your hand still with his. “T-Toji??” You question directly, eyes surveying the nude neighbor in your bed, doing everything in your power to ignore the fact that you’re naked as well. Speaking of, you notice the subtle pink glow of your womb tattoo, and anxiety spikes to a high. “I–uhh–I’m so so sorry for last night! Sorry you had to bring me back home, and I didn’t mean to act weirdly on you with—Ooof?!”

“Relax,” he cuts you off by pulling you back to his lying frame, his left hand now free to snake on your shoulder. “Don’t talk so fast; my head’s poundin’ like crazy.”

You blink aimlessly, awkward now that you’re fully aware you’re in this man’s embrace. You can’t help recalling what transpired last night, suddenly feeling squeamish. “…You okay?”

“I feel like my life’s been drained by my dick,” he answers bluntly, adding more weight to your embarrassment. “Wakin’ up to a pretty face who nearly killed me with their pussy isn’t somethin’ I’d expect.”

“……sorry.”

“It’s alright,” calloused fingers glide and intertwine with his yours, stroking your thumb with his. “Had a good time either way. Wild, but good.”

“Really…?”

“Really.” You probably shouldn’t have peered up to see him look your direction. Albeit exhausted, his handsome face and sleepy grin ignite the heat on your cheeks. And your stomach flips, hearing a laugh when you meekly avert your gaze away. “How many times did we do it?”

“…Not sure,” long enough for my womb tattoo to be blatant.

“Me either. Does that happen often?”

“Sometimes? I guess it’s because I haven’t done it for a long time, so I went…off the rails because of the intensity.”

“Noted, because I never felt so old until now. I probably pulled somethin’.”

“….Sorry.”

“Y’re good,” Toji scoffs before moving to place a soft kiss on your forehead, and your heart skips the tighter his hand holds your hand. “Tell ya what, I can help you with that cycle of yours, probably…twice a month, so it doesn’t get too crazy like last night. And don’t use y’re powers or some shit to make me forget, either. I don’t wan’ that.”

You lift your face from his shoulder, the heat spreading to your ears. “You don’t have to do that, Toji, I wouldn’t—“

“Nah, I’m down; it’s what neighbors for. Besides, it finally gives me a reason to make ya interact with me more.” Again, his smug smirk causes knots in your stomach. “Like the sound of that, mama? Let Daddy take care of you?”

Your lips quiver, and you hide your face back onto his shoulder. The rumble of his laughter worsens the butterflies in your stomach, and your tail squeezes on his thigh. “Don’t say it like that, Toji!”

“Y’r tail seems to like it.”

“Stop it!”

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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cupidsworstcrime · 3 months ago

Text

70 Things I think about Boyfriend!Jason Todd

(f!reader)

i am so so so normal about him, I swear

1. He doesn’t bring work home

Jason has a strict no Red Hood talk in the apartment rule unless it’s absolutely necessary. You know when he’s been out rough- he limps a little, his knuckles are raw, but he’ll deflect with, “Guy at the bodega tried some shit.”

You don’t ask. He doesn’t offer. That’s the deal.

2. He’s pierced and quietly punk about it

Yeah, his ears are pierced. Probably has been since he was a teenager trying to look cool in Crime Alley. You caught him wearing your tiny silver studs one morning and when you asked about it, he grunted, “Didn’t want the holes to close.” But now? He steals them on purpose. Your favorite heart-shaped pair? Gone. He’s wearing them on patrol.

3. Jumpy as hell

You’ve learned to call his name gently if his back is to you. Sudden touches get a reaction- nothing violent, but fast. Too fast. His shoulders tense. His eyes flick to every exit like muscle memory. Sometimes he apologizes under his breath like he hates that part of himself. You just squeeze his hand and remind him he's safe here.

4. Lives on black coffee, toast, and junk unless you intervene

Left to his own devices, Jason will literally survive off diner coffee and cold toast- or worse an unholy amount of energy drinks. You started slipping protein bars and cut fruit into his bag like you were packing for a grumpy kid. He acts annoyed. He eats every bite.

5. He smells like leather, gunpowder.... and your shampoo

He started using your shampoo one day “by accident” and now he just does it on purpose. You don’t even complain because the mix of him and you is better than any perfume.

6. Stole your bracelet and won’t admit it

A dainty chain bracelet you lost months ago? It's looped around the base of one of his pistols now, dangling like a charm. When you spot it and raise an eyebrow, he just shrugs:

“Must’ve fallen into my bag.”

“You expect me to believe-”

“Guess you shouldn’t leave your stuff lying around, sweetheart.”

He’s never giving it back. That’s his lucky charm now.

7. Clings in his sleep

He’d never admit it, but he’s a stage-4 clinger. Arm around your waist, face tucked against your shoulder, legs tangled. If you get up to pee, he’ll grumble in his sleep and roll into the warm spot you left behind like a human furnace.

8. Won’t say “I need you,” but he shows it

He fixes your sink at 2 a.m. because it dripped once. He tracks your location “for safety” (but it makes him breathe easier). If you’re late texting back, he spirals internally but never shows it- just casually drops by, “coincidentally,” to check on you.

He won’t say “I need you.” But he shows it. Every damn day.

9. Sings along to old records while cleaning

You caught him once deep-cleaning his guns while singing quietly to a scratchy vinyl playing old blues rock. You didn’t say anything. Just listened. It felt like church.

10. Says “I’m not good at this” but is good at this

He thinks he’s bad at love. He thinks he’s bad at being normal. But he kisses your forehead when you’re sick, folds your laundry weird but tries, and reads the same book five times because it’s your favorite.

He’s good at love. In all the ways that matter.

11. “I love a man in leather” ruined him forever

It started as a joke- you said it with a wink, barely teasing. But Jason? He froze. Blinked. Filed it away. And then that night, lying in bed, stared at the ceiling thinking about all the tactical leather he already owned.

The next time he came home from patrol, he stood awkwardly in the doorway, helmet in hand.

“...Do you like it when I wear the jacket?”

You smirked. He blushed. And that was the beginning of the end.

12. He was pretty sure he was vanilla. He was wrong.

Jason always thought he was a “lights off, soft kisses” kind of guy. And he still is- but now there’s rope in his bedside drawer, wrist cuffs under the bed, and a vague working knowledge of Shibari. He’s not saying it’s all your fault.

But it is.

13. He only lets himself explore it with you

You’re the only one he trusts enough to see that side of him. He’s not used to feeling safe being vulnerable- even when he’s the one in control. But with you? He can breathe. He can ask. He can learn.

And when you look up at him with love and hunger in your eyes, he doesn’t feel like a monster- he feels wanted.

14. He absolutely panicked the first time he said “Good girl”

It slipped out. He didn’t plan it. He just said it in the heat of the moment and you moaned. Hard.

Jason’s brain blue-screened.

He froze for a solid three seconds and whispered, “...Did you like that?”

You nodded.

He never stopped saying it after that. Still says it like it’s sacred.

15. But outside the bedroom? He's still the shyest little freak about it

You: *teasing him at dinner with a wink*

Jason: *choking on his water and glaring at you like he’s been caught committing crimes*

You: “Baby, you literally tied me up last night.”

Jason: “Keep your voice down!”

16. Leather jacket is now permanently associated with you getting handsy

It’s your fault. Every time he wears the jacket, you get a look in your eye like you’re about to climb him like a tree.

Now he can’t put it on without a smug smirk and the quiet thought: She’s gonna pounce.

17. He’ll never go to a sex store in person, but he’s got a burner account online

Jason Todd has a burner account with expedited shipping and privacy wrapping because he’s too much of a shy little freak (to everyones suprise) to risk being seen browsing handcuffs in person.

You caught him once comparing reviews on two different floggers, reading so seriously you'd think it was a medical journal. He blushed hard when you snuck up behind him.

18. Aftercare king

No matter how dark or rough it gets, he’s the most tender man afterward. Holds you close. Kisses your shoulders. Runs you a bath and washes your hair like it’s a ritual.

“Did I go too far?”

“No, Jay. You were perfect.”

And he just melts, forehead against your shoulder, whispering: “Okay. Good.”

19. Still folds towels wrong. Still starts fake fights about it.

He'll tie you up with perfect knots but can't fold a towel for shit. You don't know how the two coexist. He’s a contradiction you’re obsessed with.

20. One time he called himself your “bad boy” and immediately cringed

He was trying to be flirty.

He meant it ironically.

He said, “You like your bad boy in leather, huh?” and then groaned halfway through it like he regretted every word.

You burst out laughing.

He kissed you to shut you up.

He's 'Bad Boy 🎀' in your phone now and he hates loves it.

21. He is so dramatic when he’s sick

This man has literally died. He’s been shot, stabbed, blown up.

But give him a head cold? And he is bedridden. Blanket burrito. Groaning like he’s on his deathbed. Whispering, “Tell Alfred… I fought bravely…” before blowing his nose with your nice hand towel.

22. “I’m fine.” - a blatant lie

He’ll cough so hard he bends over double, then straighten up like nothing happened.

“You need rest-”

“I’m fine.”

“You sound like a dying engine.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Yeah. And? That doesn’t mean he should be eating cereal for dinner and refusing to take cold meds.

23. He won’t admit it but he’s needy as hell

He doesn’t ask. Not directly. But his head ends up in your lap. He “accidentally” falls asleep curled against your side. He mumbles your name mid-fever dream, eyes fluttering open and searching for you.

You bring him soup, and he blinks at you like you’ve just saved his soul.

24. Absolutely pouts if you leave the room too long

He’ll be half-asleep, but the second you get up to do anything- laundry, pee, breathe -he’ll grunt, shift dramatically, and mumble,

“…Thought you left me to die.”

You roll your eyes. “I was gone for two minutes.”

“Could’ve been the end.”

15. He’s warm. Like a human furnace

Fevers don’t just make him sick- they make him clingy and overheat-y. He’ll wrap himself around you like a weighted blanket and then get mad when you complain about sweating.

“I’m literally melting, Jason.”

“I’m dying, but go off I guess.”

26. Gets oddly philosophical when medicated

One dose of NyQuil and he’s pondering the meaning of mortality and if souls really go to heaven.

“You think if I died again, you’d still love me?”

“Jason. Baby. Please take a nap.”

27. Claims he doesn’t remember any of it once he’s better

You mention how cute he was? The way he asked for more soup with a soft “please” and big sleepy eyes?

“I don’t recall,” he says.

You show him a video? “Deep fake.”

Catches you giggling? “You’re making shit up. I’m a menace. I don’t cuddle.”

28. But secretly? He loves how you take care of him

He didn’t get this, growing up. No one ever rubbed circles on his back or checked his temperature with a kiss. He doesn’t know how to ask for it… but god, he soaks it up when you give it anyway.

It’s healing in more ways than one.

29. When you get sick later? He panics

Oh suddenly he’s a nurse. Full-time. Soup. Blankets. Calls in favors from actual doctors he knows.

“Baby, it’s just a sore throat-”

“No. No. I’ve seen this before. It starts with a sore throat. Next thing you know, you’re in a Lazarus Pit.”

30. One time he sneezed in his helmet and you never let him live it down

He didn’t take it off in time. It echoed. It was tragic.

You laughed so hard you cried.

He glared at you with the most long-suffering expression of his life and muttered,

“This is why I work alone.”

31. He warns you the first time things get serious

It’s not the mask that’s hard to take off. It’s the shirt.

The first time you're undressing each other, he pauses, hands shaking slightly as he pulls back.

“I should warn you,” he says.

And then quieter:

“It’s bad.”

32. He avoids mirrors when he’s shirtless

Not just because of the usual trauma- but because sometimes he catches his reflection and flinches. The Y-shaped autopsy scar down his chest is brutal. Surgical. Cold.

It reminds him of what he was: a body on a slab. A lost cause.

Not a man. Not a lover. Just evidence.

33. He expects you to look away

Even as he undresses, he’s already bracing for it- for the flicker in your eyes, the pity or horror or discomfort.

He stares at the wall. Waits for the silence. Waits for the shift in the way you breathe.

34. You don’t look away. Not even a little.

Your touch is reverent. Your lips follow the trail of old scars like a prayer.

“You’re beautiful,” you say.

Jason’s chest stutters, and he doesn’t believe you- not really -but he wants to.

God, he wants to.

35. He never turns the lights on during sex. Until you ask him to.

He’s okay in shadows. He’s safe in them.

But one night, you whisper, “Let me see you,” and something in him breaks open.

He lets the light touch all the places he hides.

And your hands never flinch.

36. His scars are sensitive

Especially the big ones. Sometimes they itch. Sometimes they burn.

But when your fingers trace them? It’s grounding. Calming. Makes him feel like maybe he can own this body again.

37. One time, you kissed his chest and he teared up

He didn’t mean to. It just happened.

You didn’t say anything- just held him while he breathed through it. And that silence? That softness? It meant more than any words could.

38. You bought him a new mirror one day. He stared at it for weeks before using it.

It was taller. Nicer. Framed in soft wood. When he finally stood in front of it with you, he didn’t look away.

You stood behind him, arms around his waist, and he whispered,

“…I don’t hate it as much. When you’re in the picture.”

39. He traces your body the same way now

All the places you’re soft, he worships. All the places you’ve ever been insecure- he sees none of it.

“Look at me,” he says.

“If you can love this,” he gestures to himself, “then you better let me love you.”

40. You never treat his scars like they make him broken

Because they don’t. They make him Jason. And you wouldn’t trade a single inch of him- not the roughness, not the past, not the damage.

Because under all of it, is a heart that still dares to love you back.

And that's more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen.

41. Letting it slip about the Waynes

One day, while in the middle of an argument (as one does), Jason just blurted it out.

“Okay, fine, maybe I was adopted by the Waynes!”

You froze.

“Wait. Hold up—WHAT?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a Wayne. Big surprise, right? Have fun with that one.”

"...BABY, FUCK YOU MEAN YOU'RE RELATED TO BRUCE FUCKING WAYNE?!?"

Jason just stares at you, clearly unprepared for this reaction.

“I-”

“JASON. WHAT. THE. FUCK.”

42. He immediately regrets saying it

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Jason wants to claw them back. He’s not ready to unpack that- it’s a can of worms he’s been keeping sealed tight.

But then there’s you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, looking at him like he just dropped the biggest bombshell.

“Shut up, okay? Just—just don’t bring it up ever again.”

But he knows that’s never going to happen.

43. He insists on not using any of Bruce’s money

The second he found out about the inheritance, Jason made it clear:

“I’ll never touch any of that money. It’s not mine.”

Bruce offered him more than enough, but Jason’s pride wouldn’t let him. He’d rather suffer on his own than take a single dollar from the man who, in his mind, could never truly be family.

Yet, when you need something- he can’t help but slip you a debit card once in a while, eyes narrowing as if daring you to question it.

44. Off-brand snacks and drinks, forever

You’re sitting at home one night, you reach for some chips, and Jason’s hand slaps yours away.

“No. Not those.”

He reaches into the pantry and pulls out a bag of “Chipperoni Crunchies,” not the name-brand chips, but the generic stuff. The ones that come in weird, colorful bags with cartoon characters on them.

“They taste better.”

You give him a skeptical look.

He just shrugs.

“They do.”

It’s the same with his drinks. He’ll turn his nose up at anything with a fancy label on it and will only go for store-brand cola that comes in an off-color can.

“You can’t taste the difference,” he insists, as he sips from a glass bottle, wiping the rim like he's a secret connoisseur of trash beverages.

45. He keeps a stash of “guilty pleasures” in your kitchen

No one else is allowed to see the true extent of his obsession with cheap snacks. If Alfred found out, he'd be disappointed. So he keeps it secret.

When you’re not looking, he’ll stockpile all of his guilty pleasure foods in your kitchen: neon-colored candy, microwave pizza, and prepackaged cupcakes with sprinkles that stick to your teeth in the worst way.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he mutters, but you both know it’s inevitable.

He’s just Jason. No amount of money or Wayne prestige can make him stop being Jason.

46. The first time you tease him about it, he’s defensive

You laugh at the ridiculously large bag of "fake Cheetos" he’s just brought over.

“Don’t laugh,” he growls. “They’re better, okay?”

“Really? The fake version of Cheetos?”

“It’s called being resourceful,” he grumbles, crossing his arms like he’s trying to defend his honor.

It’s just a bag of chips, but the Wayne pride is stronger than he likes to admit.

47. He will never be caught at a five-star restaurant

You’ve tried. You’ve dragged him to fancy places, tried to get him to “treat himself” to something nice.

Jason? Never steps foot in a place like that unless it's on business- and even then, he’s glaring at the rich patrons like they're the real criminals.

His idea of a perfect date? Fast food, a cheap diner, or just takeout from his favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza place. That’s his comfort zone.

48. If you ever bought him something fancy, he’d get weird about it

You got him a really nice leather jacket once- smooth, premium quality, sleek black.

He took one look at it and immediately said, “You didn’t need to get me this, babe. I’m good with my old stuff.”

But when you weren’t looking, he stroked the soft leather and secretly loved it.

The jacket still sat in his closet, perfectly untouched- just waiting for a moment when he’d admit that maybe he deserves nice things. But he’s not there yet. Not really.

49. He low-key loves your "bougie" (normal) snacks, but won’t admit it

You try to introduce him to your more “refined” tastes. Maybe it’s a fancy cheese, or high-end chocolate, or a real coffee drink that’s not just “instant” powder.

At first, Jason’s all about his junk food. But you catch him secretly swiping the expensive chocolate bar from the fridge.

“I hate these,” he says, but you catch the way his eyes flicker with a guilty pleasure.

“Then why do you keep eating them?”

“Shut up.”

50. He’s proud of his independence

He may hate the whole Wayne legacy, but he’s still proud of how he’s carved his own path. His tastes, his choices- even his snacks -are just another way of proving that he’s not defined by his 'family' name.

And somehow, that’s the part that makes him feel the most like himself. Not the Red Hood. Not “Wayne’s adopted son.” Just Jason Todd.

51. You call him “daddy” in front of someone- an accident to be fair

One morning, you’re in a rush to leave for work and casually call out, “Bye, daddy!” out of habit before heading out the door. You don’t even think twice about it.

But when you shut the door, you turn and see Damian sitting on the couch, looking at you like you’ve just committed the most cardinal sin.

Silence fills the room as you realize what you've done.

Jason, meanwhile, is trying not to laugh while Damian stares him down, and there's a whole "You told her to call you that?" conversation that never gets resolved. Damian just gives Jason the side-eye for the next few days.

52. The first time you meet his family- Oh boy…

When Jason finally takes you to meet his family, you almost choke at the sight of that massive, impressive mansion.

You’d been hearing about them for a while, but nothing could prepare you for the pure opulence of the place.

Jason, trying to play it cool, introduces you to his siblings. But deep down, you can see the unease in his eyes. He’s hoping his siblings don’t completely embarrass him in front of you.

Spoiler: they totally do.

53. Jason’s siblings stealing you away to tell you embarrassing stories

Once they know you’re there, his siblings (usually the most asshole-ish ones) quickly whisk you away to the kitchen or garden, telling you the most embarrassing Jason Todd fucked up stories.

One talks about the time he tried to sneak out as a kid and got stuck in a tree for an hour. Another shares the story of when he lost a bet to Damian and had to wear pink for a week and he cried.

By the end of it, you’re laughing so hard, you can’t tell if Jason’s going to explode or just sit there trying not to die of embarrassment.

54. Jason’s family finds out you’ve been living together for a year- a whole year?!

At a family dinner, you and Jason casually mention you’re planning on moving apartments soon.

That’s when his siblings drop the bombshell.

“Wait, you’ve been living together for a year and never told us?”

Jason looks at them like he’s been caught in a mildly embarrassing situation. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like I owe you a rundown of my life.”

His family is way too interested now, and Jason tries to play it cool, but you both know it’s one of those awkward moments that will haunt him for years to come.

55. Jason’s protective side when it comes to his family and you

If his siblings start messing with you too much or saying anything too embarrassing, Jason’s response is instant.

“Knock it off. You wanna deal with me?”

He doesn’t threaten them, but the way he says it? Yeah, they take a step back.

And when it’s just the two of you later, he’s like, “If they ever make you uncomfortable, I swear, I’ll-”

You reassure him, but you appreciate how seriously he takes your comfort with his family.

56. Jason buys you a ridiculously expensive gift, but it’s low-key, and you’re both uncomfortable

One night, Jason comes home and hands you this insanely expensive necklace with a diamond 'J' charm—way out of your usual price range.

"What's this?" you ask, giving him a confused look.

“Just... because,” he says, scratching his head awkwardly. “I saw it and thought you’d look good wearing it.”

You’re immediately touched, but you can tell Jason’s acting a little weird about it. It's one of those moments where he wants to spoil you, but his pride gets in the way.

57. Jason finds it way too easy to spoil you now though

At first, he fought it. He thought, “Nah, I’m not the type to just throw money around.”

But now? Oh, now it’s second nature.

If you even hint at something you want, Jason’s on it like white on rice.

He knows the moment you mentioned a new phone, you’re gonna find it waiting for you at home. Because Jason was already ahead of the game.

58. His family doesn’t understand his quiet obsession with you

At some point, his siblings ask him directly, “So... when are you gonna admit you’re in love with her?”

Jason almost chokes on his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But everyone knows. His family can see how he softens around you, how he’d do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and happy.

And Jason’s so not used to this, so he just acts all defensive about it, even though his family’s already figured it out.

59. Jason doesn’t actually talk about his family that much

It’s not that he’s embarrassed. It’s just that Jason doesn’t want you to see him through the lens of his family’s wealth and drama.

Sometimes he lets little things slip, but mostly, he keeps his family life under wraps.

He doesn’t need you to like them. He just wants you to like him, and to him, that’s what matters most.

60. Jason’s family low-key approves of you

Despite all the chaos, his family starts to realize that you’re a good match for Jason. You challenge him, make him laugh, and somehow manage to keep him grounded when his ego gets out of hand.

At the end of the day, they know he’s better with you.

That doesn’t stop them from occasionally teasing him, of course, but they can see what he sees in you.

61. Jason panics to pick the perfect ring

Jason spends days- days -agonizing over the perfect ring. It’s not that he doesn’t know what you’d like, it’s just that this is a huge decision. He doesn’t want to screw it up. So, of course, he recruits his sister for help, who takes you out on a ‘girls day’ to get your nails done and do some shopping. You have no idea why, but Jason’s silently breathing a sigh of relief the whole time as she helps pick out a ring that he’s sure will make you say yes.

62. Jason cries while talking to his brothers

Jason never thought he’d be talking about marriage to anyone- let alone his brothers. But here he is, pacing back and forth in front of them, confessing that he’s about to propose. And he's... crying. Not because he's weak, but because he's terrified. “I’m actually doing this,” he whispers, shaking his head. “I’m about to propose to the woman I love. Holy shit, I’m actually doing it.”

His brothers? They’re all smiles and a little bit of laughter, making fun of him, but deep down, they know this is a big step for him, and they support him.

63. Jason gets on one knee, and you don’t say anything

When he finally proposes, it’s simple. In the park where you had your first date. Jason goes down on one knee, holding the ring out in front of you, but you’re so quiet that for a second, he thinks you’re going to say no. Panic sets in, and then you start sobbing, whispering over and over, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Jason’s heart nearly explodes, and he kisses you right there, the world disappearing around you both.

64. Hes... a dad?

A few months after the proposal, you show him the ultrasound picture, and Jason freezes, his eyes tracing the dates. He counts back, and a realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh fuck,” he mutters to himself, panic rising. “That was the night we-”

It takes him a minute, but he’s almost certain. That was the night you conceived. It’s terrifying, yet beautiful, but he’s more scared than he’s ever been. He wants to be a dad, but can he actually do it?

65. Jason moves the wedding date up

Jason may not be traditional, but once he found out about the baby, he made a decision. The wedding date was moving up. He wasn’t going to have his daughter born to parents who weren’t married, and damn it, he wasn’t waiting any longer. He wants to make sure that little girl has the kind of family he never had growing up.

66. The wedding is simple but perfect

The wedding is small and simple, just how Jason wanted it. His brothers are both his best men, and they give him so much shit about it, but Jason wouldn’t have it any other way. You agree to let his sister be your maid of honor, and though there are a few moments of tension, everything falls perfectly into place. Jason, in his suit, looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. You both say your vows, and there’s no turning back now.

67. Jason holds his newborn and sobs

When you give birth to his daughter, he holds her in his arms for the first time, and Jason just breaks. He’s never been so overwhelmed in his life. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and when he presses her tiny body against his chest, he cries. Big, ugly, full of love tears. "I’m gonna protect you with everything I’ve got," he whispers. "I promise."

68. The Wayne family spoils her rotten

It’s not surprising that Jason’s daughter gets spoiled by the entire Wayne family. Every time they visit, she gets showered with gifts, new clothes, toys she doesn’t even know what to do with. Jason watches it all with a soft smile, knowing how much this little girl is going to be loved and protected. They can spoil her as much as they want, because she’s his little princess.

69. Jason being the ultimate girl dad

It’s her fourth birthday, and Jason’s letting his daughter paint his face with play makeup, sitting there patiently as she dabs the brush all over his face. It’s the kind of moment that makes Jason feel like the luckiest man alive. He’s so in love with her. No matter how messy or goofy things get, he wouldn’t change a thing. She’s his little girl, and he’ll cherish every second.

70. Jason Todd has never been happier

As chaotic and sometimes overwhelming as his life has been, nothing compares to this moment. Sitting on the couch with his daughter on his lap, his arms around you, Jason can’t help but think that this? This is happiness. The love he never knew he needed has found him, and for the first time in a long time, he feels like everything is right. He’s a husband, a father, and for the first time in his life...

He feels at home.

And that leather jacket you got him years ago? He's finally wearing it.

RAHHHHHHHH I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd headcanon #jason todd x reader headcannons #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood headcanon

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gojosconsort · 2 months ago

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emo boy gets his girl (and gets it on)

𓂃୨ৎ you’re the top model who broke choso’s heart years ago, and he’s the rockstar whose career skyrocketed after. when he performs at your fashion show, the tension explodes until he ends up in your hotel room.

𓂃୨ৎ pairing. afab!reader x singer!choso kamo

𓂃୨ৎ warnings. mdni. sobbing during sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), creampie, praise kink, possessive behavior, little angst

singer!choso was your boyfriend three years ago, a quiet musician with dark hair and songs written just for you. you, a model starting to book big gigs, ended things when your career pulled you away. “it’s too hard,” you said, leaving him crushed, begging, “we can make it work.” you walked away. he channeled the pain into music, and his heartbreak anthems turned him into a global star.

singer!choso who is now a rockstar. his songs about you top the charts, and fans chant your name at shows, knowing you inspired the lyrics. you’re a supermodel, walking for chanel and dior, but hearing his voice everywhere stings. the media loves your breakup, calling it “the split that fueled his fame.”

singer!choso is booked to perform at your biggest runway yet—victoria’s secret, with flashing lights and a massive crowd. you’re the star, closing the show in lingerie and wings. when you hear he’s singing, your heart races—you haven’t seen him since the breakup. backstage, you’re adjusting your outfit, nervous, while he’s checking his guitar, already looking for you.

singer!choso steps onstage, his voice carrying a new song about love and loss. you hit the runway, and his eyes find you immediately, intense and unblinking. the crowd senses the connection—cameras catch you hesitating for a moment, his voice faltering on, “thought you were gone.” and social media eats it up.

singer!choso tracks you down backstage, still sweaty from the stage. you’re in heels and diamonds, catching your breath. “y/n,” he says, voice low, “you’re still stunning.”

singer!choso follows you to your hotel, paparazzi snapping grainy photos. you say it’s “just to talk,” but he’s kissing you at the door, desperate, “i missed you so much.” you tug his shirt off, “need you now.” clothes fall fast, and you’re tangled in bed, bodies pressed close.

singer!choso drops to his knees, eyes glistening, “let me make you feel good.” his tongue moves deep, moaning, “you taste so good.” you grab his hair, gasping, and he’s crying, “thought i’d never have you.” he keeps going until you cum, trembling, his tears mixing with your release as he kisses your thighs.

singer!choso is aching, breathing hard, “your turn, baby.” he guides you to suck him, “fuck, just like that.” tears fall as you take him deep, his voice shaky, “you’re so pretty—wanted this for years.” he praises you, “love you, always,” and cums hard, sobbing, gripping your hair gently.

singer!choso pulls you close, tears still wet, “everything’s been hollow since you left. fame doesn’t mean shit without you.” you stroke his hair, “i missed you too—didn’t realize how much.” he holds you tight, “you’re my everything.”

singer!choso who lays you back, “i need you—need to feel you.” slides in slow, tears in his eyes, “fuck, you’re perfect.” he fucks you deep, voice breaking, “you’re mine, right? say it.” you moan, “yours, choso.” he’s sobbing, “love you—always will,” moving with desperate need, holding you like you’ll vanish.

singer!choso who picks up speed, hands gripping your hips, “can’t stop—need you too much.” he’s possessive, “nobody else gets you—only me.” you nod, “only you,” and he’s wrecked, “gonna fuck you ‘til you’re mine forever.” tears stream down his face, “thought i lost you—never again.”

singer!choso who is close, voice trembling, “gonna cum—can i stay inside?” you nod, and he’s sobbing, “fuck, you’re mine.” thrusts hard until you both cum, him spilling deep, “take it—love you.” he collapses, tears soaking your skin, whispering, “don’t leave me again.”

singer!choso who holds you close, still emotional, “every song was about you—couldn’t let go.” you murmur, “i’m here now.” he kisses you softly, “just don’t go.” you fall asleep in his arms, his warmth wrapping around you, both of you finally at peace, even if just for now.

singer!choso who wakes to chaos—twitter’s buzzing: “choso and y/n reunion at vs show?!” paparazzi photos of you leaving the hotel are everywhere. headlines speculate, “exes back together?” fans scream, “the songs were her!” your team pushes you to deny it, but choso posts a lyric, “found my heart.” it’s clearly you <3

#—amy writes : choso kamo ★#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x you #choso kamo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut #choso x reader #choso x y/n #choso x you #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujustu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #divider by cafekitsune

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bbokicidal · 2 months ago

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[SKZ] When you're included in a SKZCODE episode

i made this before the front desk at work tried to take me out so yall can have it now since my brain is rattled n chunky.

Genre: Fluff Pairing: OT8 x Reader Warnings: Lino's pics aren't from the episode I put bc I couldn't find any, sorry!

SFW Masterlist | NSFW Masterlist

Chan: Episode: Winter is Coming [Ep 1 & 2]

Pouts when he finds out he has to try and stop you from getting the flag up and down the hill in record time because he wants you to win,,, duh.

But it doesn't stop him from absolutely ramming a ball of snow into the back of your head (on accident)

Laughs at the way the boys try to stop you with their bodies and the way you fearlessly bodyslam them in an attempt to win the game

Almost dies of laughter at seeing you spin in circles and then try to attack the poor balloon - only for it to fly away and disqualify you

Buys you hot chocolate after the shoot is over and cuddles up with you to keep warm after being outside in the snow all day <3

Minho: Episode: The Ultimate SKZCODE Recap [Ep 69-70]

Has to hide his giggles at your poor presenting of the boys' awards

And how bad they are at guessing the right answers to the quiz questions

Gets all blushy when you announce him for any award and shies away when you run to the audience to sit down and cheer so loudly for him

Ends up trying to bribe you for answers to the quiz questions by winking and blowing you kisses from his table

Until he's called out by Jisung, at least

Changbin: Episode: SKZ-ARY TOWN [Ep 57-68

Cannot hide his laughter at the way you fail at bobbing for apples

But then loses his shit jumping around and yelling "That's my baby!!" when you manage to get a few and tie with Felix for first place

Tries to bribe the staff to give him the same amount of points as you since you're dating

Tells you to do the first position in the relay game but quickly switches with you when he realizes you almost fly away with Chan and Minho trying to restrict your running with the band

He's literally bouncing around with how good you are at the mini games and ends up putting you on the toast-toss station because you're the only team member who doesn't suck

Hugs you so tight when you win the game and swings you around in his arms just because he's so excited

Hyunjin: Episode: Go! Poolside SKZ [Ep 57-58]

Has the time of his life seeing you and Jisung run and dive in together because you lost rock paper scissors

Asks for you to not be on his team because he doesn't trust your ability in the water games as if he's any better himself

Ends up accidentally hitting you with the ball a few times and immediately apologizes, then allows you to throw it at him once on purpose as revenge

Just about loses it on Seungmin when he flips over your tube like Chan did with Felix, then yells for staff to disqualify him

But he's just as brutal because in the tug of war he rips your ass off of the platform and almost falls in because of how hard he's laughing at your yells of protest

Jisung: Episode: SKZ Family Returns [Ep 39-40] (He looked SO FINE in this episode good GAWD)

Has a blast flirting it up with Minho but after Seungmin starts biting back he makes a show of turning to you instead

You play his in-law technically - Your character being Hyunjin's sibling

Everyone is in shock and making a scene of Jisung's flirtatious attitude towards you as the roleplay goes on

And they're even more surprised and making drama of it when the two of you kiss behind Hyunjin's head

He ends up sitting with his guitar and singing the 'I'm sorry' song again because of it

Almost starts fighting Seungmin at one point because he 'also wants to have an affair with you' as a joke

Felix: Episode: Bedtime Bingo Hell [Ep 55-56]

Watching him yell about how he's bronze is what makes you laugh the most

He has a blast watching you try to do the pillow air-bowling but gawks when you manage to knock a few down and then yells about how you're his and how he's so proud

He's full of giggles when you hop on the whoopie cushion

And he's full of playful rage when Changbin is called 'the one with the prettiest butt' so he begins an argument that yours is way prettier

Also almost loses his shit when you come in second for the loudest fart

He's proud but at what cost

Seungmin: Episode: Fall Field Day [Ep 59-60]

Cries at seeing you in the raw chicken blow up costume and takes a picture before making it his lockscreen because he thinks you're so cute

He ends up being the one to fight you on the mat and ends up losing to you

Don't let his cuteness fool you - he absolutely obliterates you in dodgeball

Can he aim? No. And Minho can't guard for shit; So you end up getting hit more than you probably should

He giggles at you running around the sidelines in an attempt to get back in the game, singing out "I'm sorry ~"

Takes videos of you running during the relay race because he just thinks it's so cute

Jeongin: Episode: Suspicious Lab [Ep 47-48]

He's supposed to be guessing voices but he hears you go, "Ahh - I sound so much different than all of you, this isn't fair!" in your high-pitched helium tone and bursts into laughter

Your experiment ended up breaking so you did Seungmin's after him, wearing the stimulation machine on one of your arms and trying to fold an airplane

He ends up taking the remote from Minho at some point because he's having too much fun with tormenting you and Jeongin can't stand it

Turns up the machine even more to see you squirm

Also cheats during the game where he had to try and ramp up your heart rate (He touches your ass to get a reaction out of you) and then denies it in a fit of laughter when you call him out to the staff

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek @pixie-felix @hwangjoanna @skzophreniic

@silly250

#skz x reader #skz imagine #stray kids x reader #bangchan x reader #felix x reader #hyunjin x reader #seungmin x reader #changbin x reader #jeongin x reader #stray kids imagine #skz fic #skz headcanons #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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lylian333 · 7 months ago

Text

~Yandere emperor x reader~

warning: read at your own risk, traumatizing, dark historical shits, noncon, force, many misunderstandings,sexual harrest , angst ,age gap, everything here is quite insane, historical au, he's fucking crazy, killing, insults, English is not my first langue(if there's any warning I didn't put, tell me)

words:2180

(this is not my art I found it on Pinterest, and in the comment section it's said that it was made by AI so💀)

Princess (y/n) Laurier has been best friends with Princess Alyssa Everett since you both were just 6 years old. You both have many things in common, such as interests, opinions, and much more.

You both would usually hang out around each other's kingdom; you don't have any issues with her except with her father, Emperor Edward Everett. He was the hottest, most handsome man you have ever met, and you still do now.

You have had a huge crush on him that felt like butterflies inside your stomach since the day you met him, but he always has that emotionless face and rarely smiles unless at his wife, your best friend's mother. You know this from Princess Alyssa; she would complain about how cold and serious he is.

You still ignore those and try getting to know him, but he just looks annoyed or just straight-up ignores you, but you ignore it and still continue liking him. Not only that, you're not the only one; it's obvious that everyone that has met him, females and even males, all drool for him.

You still have some sense in you, and you also have to respect the Everett queen and Princess Alyssa since she is your best friend. You can't just let some love ruin the relationship you both had. You can't. She is like a sister to you. She helps you when you're confused; she protects and defends you when you were getting laughed at; she is there when you needed someone the most. It's not worth losing a relationship like this, and so your liking toward his father slowly dies down.

But things change when you grow up and start having features and curves and in the end, you become a gorgeous woman, many people are jealous of you even Princess Alyssa confesses to you about it and some desperately want you. You reject all of them since none of them are worthy of you, and you're disinterested in them.

Your intense gaze and soft complexion, with your structured face and striking presence, are on par with an iconic beauty, paired with the warmth and softness in your expression, which are very delicate. You would struggle to not look at yourself when there is a mirror.

You still have some feelings toward Emperor Edward, but you manage to hide it and be able to not think about him when talking to him.

The worst thing that could have happened was that the Queen of Everett died from childbirth while trying to give birth to the heir to the throne, but it went to a disaster. It was devastating news to hear from everyone.

The emperor was absolutely devastated and even despised the child. From that moment on he would never talk to anyone unless it was part of a duty, but other than that he would ignore the servant's advisers and even his own kids, which left Princess Alyssa depressed since she had to bear her mother's death, her father's coldness, and the baby boy that her mother lost her life to.

That week she came crying to you when you came to visit her and attended the funeral of the Everett Queen death. You decide to stay at Everett Palace for a few months before going back to Laurier Kingdom.

You promised Princess Alyssa that you'd take care of her and her baby brother, and so you did. After all, back at your kingdom and your family, you have 6 siblings, plus you, and you are the third eldest, which makes you the middle You have experience with babies after the experience of you sibling that you swear are more naughtyer when you take care of them.

In those months of staying, Emperor noticed that you had to take care of the baby boy and Princess Alyass when he found you singing a lullaby for them to fall asleep.

At that moment something in him awoke, something dark, horrible, and disgusting. He knew this was wrong, but who was there to stop him? Not even himself could do that.

From that moment on, he would try getting close to you and getting to know you better; by that, he would call you into his office or into his chamber. When talking, he would get close to you, too close, to the point that he's invading your personal space by burying his face in your hair, breathing in that sweet, gentle scent, or sucking and biting your earlobe.

You knew this was wrong. You both knew this was wrong, but you guys still continued. Your brain keeps telling you to stop and that this is your best friend's father, but your gut tells you to continue. For your best friend Princess Alyssa's sake.

At one of those meetings, you confess to him that you don't want to continue these "meetings" to respect your best friend Alyssa and her baby brother Prince James.

But when he hears that you swear you could feel the air getting tense and his face looks tense as well, and with clenched fists, he looks like he could kill someone that might have been you or others.

He then pushes you onto his office desk and forcefully rips your clothes off. All you can remember that day was just horror, pure fucking horror. It haunts your dreams, memories, and everything that you see that can somehow be related to the day you and he were together.

The cherry on top is Emperor Endward sends an arranged marriage to your kingdom between you both; you pray that your parents would reject this offer, but no. Instead, they accept it and send you a letter telling you the reasons that this could help our kingdom very much and this could give you a better future and more, but all you care about is that you're trapped with him. They also added in that they would be unable to see because of the distance of the two kingdoms and that it is time to set you free.

Oh, how you wish it were true to let you spread your wings and have your own freedom.

You hated everything, mostly yourself. You hated yourself for not being more alert and not telling anyone, not even your own family or close ones; you—you can't even describe the feeling that you're feeling at that point. You quite literally were disgusted by yourself.

You cry all day long to the point where Princess Alyssa hears it and finds you, and you vomit out all the things that happened while still crying. You wish the earth could just eat you whole, make you disappear from the earth, from this world, from this life.

You keep pressuring yourself that this is your fault for days till your hair has a few strands of white hair that you have noticed.

The wedding was within the week, and you both got married and wed. That very day and night of the "honeymoon," he slams you against the bed carelessly and forcibly spears open your legs with his hand while another pins both your head on top of your head.

You whisper near your ear,True to be told, I have actually noticed that since you were just a little girl, you always had a crush on me, so technically you wanted this to happen, so don't cry like last time, dear."

Your eyes go wide when you hear that he actually noticed. He knows that you have no words—absolutely no words.

That night was as horrible and traumatizing as the night you both had together. Princess Alyssa personally tries to help you escape; even after the marriage, she still supports you, even knowing the fact you are technically her stepmother.

But she accepted you, and you were quite stunned at how she handled the situation. Even though it was like hell, she still helped, whether by holding you while you were crying or whatever she was still there. It felt like she was starting to take care of you instead of you taking care of her like how you first promised.

In one of the many attempts of you trying to escape and her helping you with it, you both were caught, and Emperor Edward decided to punish you by isolating you and sentencing Princess Alyssa to be beheaded, his own daughter.

And you were forbidden to give her any visits after the situation. You didn't get the chance to even give her the last hug or talk or anything, not even a goodbye. You even threatened to kill yourself if he didn't allow you to see her, but he just laughs at you and tells the guards to throw you inside a dungeon where there's nothing, not even a window, so you have to rely on the fire outside.

Just like that, she's gone forever. You cry for days and refuse to eat, sleep, or even drink. The king himself has to personally force-feed you so that you don't die. You even scream and beat him as hard as you can in rage whenever you see him, but he just stands there, not unbothered. You might as well think that he doesn't even care or feel anything anymore, no remorse, no nothing, just disgusting lovesick eyes looking at you.

"I just can't get enough of you, love~"

Your life goes on until you have had enough, like enough one more year of this. You seriously don't think you want to be reincarnated into another life. You desperately want to feel things instead of being trapped in the shared chamber all day long, only allowed to go out to the garden for 1 hour to get fresh air with a few ladies in waiting and your own trusted servants near you to keep being aware of you and make sure you're not doing anything harmful to yourself or escaping.

You came up with the stupidest and most shameful idea. You decide to frame yourself for cheating on Emperor Edward and confess to him that you cheated. Making up fake clues for others to notice and gossip about, but the emperor refuses to believe it, so you told him personally.

"I cheated on you, Edward."

"You must be joking, dear. How would you even be able to do that, hm?"

but you just keep repeating the sentence, "I cheated on you."

This makes him overthink and triggers him, and he ends up struggling with you to death in the process. You still keep repeating the sentence, which forces him to grip your neck even harder till you are no longer breathing—not even a single movement, just soulless eyes staring straight.

When he realized that it was too late and there was no turning back, he let go of your neck, and you collapsed onto the ground, dead. He kneeled down next to you; finally, at this moment, he felt guilty for everything. He reflected on the things he had done to you, the amount of damage. Why didn't he think about this earlier? Maybe that could help him.

No, it's your fault for cheating on him. How dare you filthy women cheat on an emperor that has done everything for her sake? To this day he still blames you, but part of him does regret not caring what you felt and thought. He only treated you like a toy, a glass doll that would easily be broken. But he just couldn't help but love you with all his might, even if it meant hurting you.

He tried to keep your body from decomposing and rotting and would soak you in water to slow down the decomposing. He even went mad and brought you to the throne room for events, dressed you properly, stuffed you with cotton to keep you looking more alive, and said to others, "My wife is doing well; look at her, she's such a sleepy head; look at her sleeping, hehe…"

Sadly, eventually, he had no other choice but to finally bury you because your body was decomposing and smelling really bad. At the funeral, he gives a speech on how she was in his life and how he can't believe she died before him from 'sickness' and oh how sad he was and how he saw her glowing up into an elegant woman and more.

Prince James also gave a speech about how you try helping out, that he always sees her as a mother figure, and how (y/n) has always tried her best. He was innocent in all of these; as well, he even balled his eyes out when he found out that you died.

At the very last moment of seeing your face, he cupped your cheek one last time.

"Oh, how much I will miss you oh how I wish that I could go with you as well, but it's fine you don't need to worry love In my will, when I die, I'm going to be buried right next to you." He says that while chuckling while feeling remorse.

omg, there are so many things I want to comment on but erm yeah this is how it is??? it could have been worse

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starry-bi-sky · 9 months ago

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FUNNIEST fucking shit that comes with making Danny eleven years old when he had his accident in "late at night, when the nightingale sings" is the implication following, that everything that happened in the show did too. And I fully intend on (mostly) keeping it like that. There'll be some changes (of which I need to figure out) but for the most part??? Yeah relatively the same.

Like I FULLY intend on keeping Dark Danny occurring 6 months post accident. Do you know how fucking HILARIOUS that is??? That Dan got his ass kicked by a goddamn FIFTH-SIXTH GRADER?? I'd never show my face ever again. Homeboy spent the last ten years being a one-man mass extinction event, only to get his ass beat by a kid who hasn't even lost his last baby tooth. That's hysterical. I'm losing my mind just thinking about it.

AND PARIAH DARK TOO. Imagine being an eons old tyrant capable of dragging whole towns down into your dimension, and you get singehandedly shoved back into your coffin in less than 48 hours by a kid whose bedtime is still 8:30. You didn't even have the time to expand your army! You were still trying to take over the city the kid came from!

And he just!!! Shoves you back in!! Insane! This kid hasn't even been dead for a full year yet! He's still growing in his ghost fangs! And he just knocked you flat on your ass in an oversized mech suit. What the fuck! It's like looking down and seeing a four week old kitten meowing very indignantly at you and trying to bite your feet, except that kitten is also actually a black-footed cat and they have a 60% kill success rate, and oops! Now you're dead. You took too long laughing at the kitten trying to attack you that it clawed up your pant leg and ripped out your throat.

COULD I, realistically, span these episodes out over the course of 2.5 years prior to Danny's family dying?? Yes I could! Do I think it's hilarious (and horribly traumatizing, which makes it twice as fun) to shove all of this into the span of (roughly) a year instead?? Yes. Because the show has such a skewed timeline that I've always just assumed that at the end of the show, Danny was starting his sophomore year in high school. So fuck it, lets go for it!

#dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc crossover #blood blossom au #my fic #danny fenton #danny phantom #if i REALLY want to get into it i'll have to look at the show's episode synopsis and pick and choose which episodes happen when in the year #maybe pull a scarlet lady and have some of the season 1 episodes happen further down the line instead. but i can do that later. for now #come laugh with me at the mental image of teeny 11 year old danny curbstomping ghosts twice is size and thrice his weight.#bruce is watching old footage from the phantom fights in amity and going 'HNN' in increasing concern. he's got his hands folded and his #chin in his hands and he's going (ಠ_ಠ) with his face and he has SO many questions and concerns. for many. many different reasons #first of all he's incredibly upset that danny had to go through this at all in the first place. like no kid should've gone thru this alone #but he. is also. very very softly. going *'what the fuck...'*

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bugdoppio · 2 months ago

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HEADCANON DROP HI HELLO (ignore how i accidentally switched pete and josh's position i drew this in school without my phone okay. forgive me)

BILL !!

hes the level of white that his face gets actually red when hes rlly angry

worst acne out of all of the club plus probably has a bald spot on his head from how stressed out he is all the time

surprisingly his hair is the cleanest out of all of them because his mom forces him to take baths frequently (hates her for it) -> weirdly that does not stop him from smelling like shit so

has VERY bad myopia (short sighted)

absolutely awful posture. pack it up hunchback of notre dame

has very bad lactose intolerance but does NOT stop him

i like to think maybe it was his dad who introduced him to comics and nerdy stuff and they really bonded over that so he resents his mother a lot for "taking his dad away from him" when they had the divorce

NOT a reader at all, only reads books that dont have pictures on them if its for school, otherwise he does NOT touch that shit

has a surprisingly good singing voice but the talents wasted because he doesnt like music at all

very very VERY closeted bisexual would rather die than admit he feels a little something when looking at pretty men

has a habit of biting himself when he's frustrated

has arachnophobia so bad to the point it's actually funny. if u tell him theres a spider on his shoulder he will scream so loudly and freak out and not speak to u for a week when he realizes u were lying

his bones are really easy to break for some reason? shove him the tiniest bit hard he will break something when he falls on the ground

i feel like he'd have a peanut allergy. no i will not elaborate

judges really hard whenever someone gets a very complicated coffee order but cannot handle a singular sip of black coffee. spits it out immediately

brags about being the oldest of all of them when its like. him and josh are less than a month apart

very very low pain tolerance will be so dramatic over every tiny papercut

umm umm something something npd and ocd because oomf said so

last one of the club to grow facial hair

hates HATES pda but is so clingy in private its insane

chews on every pen or pencil he owns. beaver ass

has really really dry lips to the point his doctor told him to regularly put on chapstick but he never does it because he "feels gay" doing it, lips get cracked and bloody every time the weather gets a little dryer than usual

always wears long sleeved shirts or jackets over t-shirts because he hates how his arms look (theyre very skinny. bro cannot throw a hard hitting punch or lift a mildly heavy object for his life)

cannot peel any fruit. ever.

never got his drivers license. even in epilogue he has to take cabs everywhere

also epilogue i feel like he'd have a little bit of a drinking problem maybe

JOSH !!

very very greasy curly hair that has so much frizz. CANNOT be brushed dry ever or itll puff up ljke a pomeranian

probably started growing a neckbeard before any real facial hair but he gets self conscious about it so shaves it -> gives up shaving it in epilogue and his real beard started to grow

his weight isnt that much his fault its more of a genetic thing tbh -> tried working out to see if he lost weight once but when his fat didnt immediately turn into muscle in like. a week. he gave up

his mom probably got him to do piano or violin classes and when the club went to a recital to make fun of him they were like. a little impressed cuz he was not bad at all tbh -> probably tried to audition to school band or somethibg? but immediately shouted FUCK the second he got a note wrong and got kicked out

has some form of jaw misalignment? but never told his mom because he would rather die than be seen with braces

gamer headphone dent 💔

immediately asks any girl wearing a band shirt "name five songs" even if he doesnt know the band at all

owns a concerning amount of body pillows

secretly has a thing for mean assertive women

bpd maybe?

has VERY bad hyperopia (long-sightedness)

used to own hamsters and got so sad when they died he missed club meetings for like a week -> club genuinely thought it was a grandma or something not yoda 1 and yoda 2 (he'd name them that because he forgot which one was which and just named them the same thing)

has so many cousins and extended family its insane. he swears that if he hears "youve grown so much, last time i saw you you were a little baby!" he will LOSE IT

has freakishly good aim for some reason? like, the club wouldve gone to paintball or laser tag or something and bill would throw a tantrum over always getting shot by josh immediately

hates overly sweet things

PETE !!

very very hairy everywhere except on his head 😭 bro has a receding hairline at 17 someone save him (literally the only reason he wears the baseball cap all ghe time)

probably the first one to grow facial hair out of the club, brags about it so hard

tried piercing his ears by himself once but it got infected so he had to give up

rlly dark eyes and has the most beautiful luscious dark lashes youve ever seen (guido mista coded)

nose is very curved and downturned

MOLES MOLES SO MANY MOLES

kinda crooked teeth but his parents cant afford braces for him so

owns a bunch of exotic pets and used to prank the club with them until bill accidentally stepped on his pet spider and killed it or something

yk when u smell sweaty and bad and try putting deodorant on top to fix it but just ends up smelling like a mix of sweat and deodorant and its lowkey worse? yeah thats what pete smells like. all the time. and axe body spray

tried smoking one (1) time to look cool and regretted it so much. never again

probably unironically got scurvy once due to not brushing his teeth or eating any fruit and thought his gums bleeding meant he was turning into a zombie -> tried biting josh once to be funny and "turn him into a zombie too" but he bit too hard and it got infected (he felt SO bad)

really strong immune system from eating dirt as a kid? almost never gets sick -> when he does its really bad and the club lowkey thinks hes gonna die when it happens

if not working at sick mofo in epilogue i like to think he could've ended up working as a horror sfx artist

also could probably have been good at sports if he tried but he never did (plus hates jocks so)

surprisingly really knowledgeable about food and spices and stuff (maybe his mom taught him) but he HATES cooking so never does anything abiut it

watches gore and shit but would throw up immediately if he saw a major injury like that in real life

has freakishly good reflexes from his older brothers picking on him all the time

JERRY !!

THICK EYEBROWS !!!!!!!! KINDA HAS SIDEBURNS TOO !!!!!!!!!! im not normal

thin lips ..and eyebags …. plus kinda defined cheekbones make him look rlly tired all the time

hes really myopic but doesnt have glasses -> his eyes look closed all the time cuz hes always squinting trying to see 3 feet in front of him (plus his eyebrows furrow together when he does so thats why sometimes he looks like he has a unibrow) -> probably starts wearing contacts in epilogue

also literally only failed his driving test becayse of myopia SOMEONE GET THIS POOR BOY SOME GLASSES

had a tooth gap when he was younger (think that one flashback where theyre all kids) and had to wear braces for a while to fix it -> was relentlessly made fun of because of that by the club until bill got braces too and threatened to punch whoever made fun of braces again

weirdly good at finding out info about people …. stalker ass .!!!! has doxxed people he dislikes on forums occasionally -> stops doing that in epilogue but maybe finds himself accidentally stalking someones profile when on the internet and feels bad

waaayy taller than the rest of the club but has a shitty posture so he looks kinda on par with the others -> like 180cm but looks 175cm

best jawline out of all of them lowkey 😭

maybe a little unaware on physical boundaries and stuff … physical touchy guy

FRECKLES + hes probably the one wity tge least acne out of all of them cuz he would probably start picking at his pimples the minute they show up (does NOT wash his face though) -> acne scars in epilogue

greasy hair, probably washes it every 2 weeks (has rlly nice smelling shampoo when he does wash it though) -> washes his hair more frequently in epilogue (REALLY soft)

very blunt when he has strong opinions about something but otherwise has ZERO backbone. will immediately change his mind on something if he wants to impress someone

a sagittarius because he looks like he'd have a birthday in december plus weird al yankovic song your horoscope for today (listen to it right now.)

very clammy sweaty hands and HATES it, sensory nightmare, always fidgeting with the hem of his sweater to dry them out

autistic .!!! plus has rlly bad anxiety probably

and fomo. oh lord he has so much fomo -> probably one of the biggest reasons he still hangs out with the club tbh -> plus has really bad codependency and abandonment issues maybe? cannot do something by himself he has to have someone with him

gets his ears pierced in the epilogue and LOVES it, too scared to get more though because it was really painful

is a pretty good artist, could've become a professional easily but was more preoccupied with other stuff probably

owns a huge ginger main coone cat that bullies him around

low blood pressure

very skilled at calligraphy… most legible handwriting out of all of them

umm urrmm thats it i thinks .... i hope my vision is not too out of character .......,,,, Guh

#the eltingville club #welcome to eltingville #eltingville club #bill dickey #eltingville #josh levy #jerry stokes #eltingville fanart #pete dinunzio #headcanons #rub my bellaayyyy #hemi art

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porcalinecunt · 11 months ago

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𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆!

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 dating two vigilante’s is already a mouthful, so much so, you’re not too shocked when you and jason give dick a little treat during his patrol ~♡

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ JASON TODD & DICK GRAYSON X MALE! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — ftm!reader, open relationship [dick grayson], cuckholding, phone sex, facetime, masterbation, some degradation, cumshot, jason is a hoe and dick is a shameless cuck.

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ went off the rails with this one ngl, was kicking my feet the whole time too (*ﾉωﾉ) if willing, i’ll make a pt 2 for yall <3

still nothing yet.

dick grayson sat on the edge of the Wayne Industries building, gazing upon Gothem from an eagle’s eye. seemed like the criminals he usually decends upon decided to take it easy tonight, barely making a peep besides the typical bar fights and runaway children rebelling against their parents.

but it didn’t bother him much, after all, his patrol was nearly over with bruce and cass already out ‘n about the streets. dick will finally go home, to you and his stubborn brother jason fuckin’ todd.

none of you had any clue how the things went so off the rails, starting when you suggested to your boyfriend that you wanted to try and open the relationship. dick, while hesitant at first, decided to give it a go. surprisingly, it went pretty smooth. dick went off seeing other people just like you were, yet always coming home to each other just like before.

until, someone decided to take his golden opportunity.

it wasn’t a secret that jason had the hots for you, always taking the chances to talk to you while dick couldn’t grab his attention for shit as the vigilante was too lost in his conversation with you. “dick’s a lucky one alright..” he’d say so shamelessly.

so lucky, jason hops on your ass the moment he got a hint of your open relationship. you didn’t even stop the man and niether did dick, as things quickly escalated between you and the red hood. tonight being no exception.

rinnggg! rinnggg! dick’s phone jingles to you calling to facetime him, he picks up expecting to see your pretty face greeting him. and he did!

“hey prin!—“ “oh..oh fuck!”

there you were, on your back with cum already splattered all over your stomach, you’re whole body rocking up whatever soft surface you laid on from the unseen stranger’s cock pistoning in and out of your soaked cunt.

“sorry big bro, couldn’t wait another—shit!—second for ya..”

jason’s voice rasped into the speaker, drowning out your moans. dick stared, jaw agape and pants tighter then he remembered. despite listening to your hookups, he never actually watched you get your back blown out by another man. a high pitched whine snapped him back into reality, now you’re staring right at the camara with teary eyes and swollen, wet lips.

“nghh..dick..p-pwease come home! need you to..”

another harsh snap of jason’s hips knocked a moan out of you, as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced your face back towards the camara. towards dick. “need him to what? c’mon [name], sing it for dickie!”

he mocked as dick already shuffled his way into the staircase, frantically fishing his leaking cock out as you clenched around jay’s girth.

“fuckkk..jason you son of a—“ dick hissed, fucking his fist to the sight of your squirming in orgasm. your knees threatening to snap together, your face flushed in embarrassment yet arousal and those syrupy, pathetic eyes staring back at his. a sight straight out of some fucked up porn for a guy with a cucking fetish.

“woah there! look at that dick..i think you’re little boyfriend’s into this, right? you brazen little minx?!”

jason’s breathy laugh of amusement harmonized with your hiccups and sobs as you creamed all over the red hood’s cock, his girth wet and coated in white as he slowed his thrusts down. dick, turned on yet aggravated that another man made you cum, threw his head back against the wall as he reached his own orgasm.

“[name], baby..look at me, please, look at me while i cum..! shit!”

dick let out a broken groan as ropes of white landed on his phone screen and onto the floor, yet he still was hard as a fucking rock. what didn’t help was that when he looked back at the facetime, you were already on all fours, ass up with your leaking pussy ready to be fucked once again.

“you might wanna hurry up, or i’ll fuck him raw again.”

jason chuckled as dick sprinted through the dark sky, already around the corner to get some well deserved payback. see who’s laughing still once you’re stuffed full of your man’s cock with the paramour watching.

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traveler-at-heart · 1 month ago

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An odd pair

Nerdy!Nat x F!R - AU set in college. Natasha is a junior, R is a sophomore.

Summary: Natasha is perfectly fine with her lonely college life, until she gets a new roommate that comes with her own group of friends.

A/N: Very special thanks to @jujuu23, @jedi-luca, @caitviers, @ys4b31l4 and @littlegaybutterflysblog for reading this and giving me their feedback. I wasn't sure about posting, but their kind comments encouraged me to share this. This is the first chapter, let's see how long it takes for them to get together ;)

New year, new me.

That’s what most people would say. Even if it wasn’t a new year, just a new semester; Natasha had noticed her peers and their need to reinvent themselves. Promises to be better, more (attractive, fun, desirable), date, go to parties, be one of the cool kids.

None of them had any desire to actually be better at school stuff, which is why she never got along with her peers. And either way, Natasha wasn’t looking to make any changes to her life. Everything was perfectly functional.

Her schedule, her privacy, her dorm. She had managed to find one all to herself, as most students were looking for something closer to campus. This building was the farthest one, and most people who lived here were a semester or two away from graduation, too tired to keep up with the expectations.

Unfortunately for Natasha, something is different as she walks in the dorm.

“What..?” she says, looking around.

No, this is a mistake. She was supposed to have it all to herself, even if the dorm was for two people.

There are boxes. And dishes. Makeup and cleaning products in the bathroom.

Worst of all.

Music.

Very loud music.

“Do you believe in magic?” a girl with auburn hair sings as she walks out of the room, carrying some clothes. Natasha is about to ask what’s going on when the other girl looks up. “You lost?”

“This is my place” Natasha says, trying to not sound annoyed.

“Oh, so we’re roommates!” the girl’s demeanor immediately changes. “Hi, I’m Wanda”

“Natasha. Are you sure you got the right address? This building is so far away from the main campus…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s all my idiot brother’s fault” Wanda says, rolling her eyes as she walks to the kitchen. “We were living in a place outside of campus but he dropped out of college to start his business. Made the last minute call and I can’t afford the place myself. This is the only thing the accommodation office had available”

Natasha’s trying to pay attention, but Wanda’s examining the drawers, moving things around. It makes Natasha uneasy.

She has a system. She doesn’t like it when someone else messes with her stuff.

Wanda keeps talking about the cabinets, how to split the space in the fridge. Cleaning duties, toilet paper…

It makes Natasha’s head spin.

New semester. And apparently a new roommate.

—

You should have known she was full of shit.

Ten minute walk my ass.

It took twice to get to Wanda’s new place. If she had just listened to you, she wouldn’t have to settle for whatever it is the accommodation office threw at her.

Either way, you knock while texting, waiting for her to talk your ear off about how the place isn’t that bad and she loves it (again, you call bullshit).

“Nice place, was the spot under the bridge taken?” you say as soon as the door opens, still looking at your phone.

At the silence, you raise your eyes and meet green eyes. These are different than Wanda’s. They have a certain warmth, but also an irritation that almost makes you falter.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, maybe I have the wrong place. I’m looking for Wanda” you check the number outside the door.

“She lives here” the girl says, almost sounding annoyed. “I think she's out"

Natasha’s almost certain that Wanda’s not here because when she is, there’s always a sitcom playing in the background while she does the rest of her stuff. How the hell will she deal with all the noise?

Like clockwork, you get a text from Wanda. She went out grocery shopping because she was starving and promises she’ll be home in ten minutes.

So twenty.

“Can I wait for her inside?” you ask with a defeated sigh.

“Are you a friend or something?”

“No. I’m actually her parole officer”

“What?”

“Shit!” you laugh at the girl’s expression. “I’m sorry, I’m joking. Yes, she’s my friend, since middle school”

“Oh”

There’s something about the girl’s demeanor that makes you want to get a rise out of her. So you lean on the door, biting your lip.

“Can I come in now? Or do I have to ask pretty please?”

“Sorry, yeah” she stutters at the flirty look you give her, walking away from the door. As you get inside, looking around the place, Natasha begins to pick up her things to go to her room. “I’ll just be out of your way”

“No, this is your place, I’ll stay in her room”

“It’s fine…”

“Or… we could just share the couch?” you smile, walking slowly as she keeps gathering her notebooks. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name”

“Natasha”

“Natasha” you repeat, nodding. “That’s beautiful”

“T-thank you” Natasha blushes, struggling with the papers on the coffee table.

You approach her slowly, reading over her shoulder.

“Interesting”

“Hey!”

She looks over at you, not realising how close you actually are up until now, and you smile at her with a shit eating grin.

“Ok, I’m sitting down now. You a freshman?” you ask, following her with your eyes as she finally gets all the papers where she was writing.

“Junior”

“Oh, really? How come I’ve never seen you around?”

Not like you’re the most popular kid in school, and it’s a big college, but Natasha stands out to you with her beauty, and you would have definitely remember seeing her around campus.

“I’m mostly at the library. Or home” Natasha says, hovering over the space next to you. You’re smiling up at her, in a way that makes it very clear you’re not stopping the conversation anytime soon.

It would be rude to just leave.

With a defeated sigh, she sits down next to you, looking at her hands.

“What’s your major?”

“Biochemistry”

“Oh, yeah, then we are definitely in different parts of campus all the time. I’m a History major and Wanda’s in Psychology”

“Cool. That’s interesting”

“No parties in Biochemistry?”

“Not that many. And I’m not interested either” Natasha looks at her hands. She’s expecting a joke at her expense, or a comment on how boring that sounds, but all you do is lean your head against the couch and sigh.

“Honestly, I promised myself I wouldn’t go to many parties this semester but I’m not sure now. You don’t have to worry about parties here though. Wanda never does that”

“Right” Natasha says, blushing again as she realises you got to read some of the stuff she wrote.

A list of things that could potentially go wrong with a roommate, variables to consider, rules, schedules.

“Honestly, Wanda is a good roommate. Her brother was the one that’s a bit of a mess. And she cooks so much food all the time, you’ll always have something to eat”

“That doesn’t sound so bad”

“She just brings over boys and they get sooo loud”

“Really?” Natasha turns red and you place your hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. “Hey, not funny”

“A little bit. Sorry, it’s just… very easy to tease you” you say with a smile.

It makes Natasha look away as she plays with her hands.

You like how she blushes a little too much.

When she looks at you with those beautiful green eyes, you’re about to ask something else when Wanda walks in, carrying five bags of groceries.

“I’m making paprikash tonight!” she announces with a smile.

“Stark’s party is tonight” you say.

“I’m making paprikash tomorrow!” she corrects, placing stuff in the fridge. “You like it, right, Nat?”

“Never had it”

“Oh, you’ll love it” Wanda says like an overbearing mother. You roll your eyes, looking at Natasha with an amused expression as Wanda keeps stuffing the fridge with food. Walking up to her, you inspect her work over her shoulder.

“Leave space for your roommate, Maximoff”

“Right. Sorry. There. I can fit everything in this little shelf right here”

“Ok, then get ready, we have to meet with Darcy and then we’ll go to the party” you follow her around, knowing it’s the only way to make sure you leave on time.

Natasha stays rooted to the couch, looking at her hands as she tries not to think of how she actually wanted to keep talking to you. You probably don’t even remember she exists.

“Sure, help me pick an outfit?” Wanda says, starting an episode of I Love Lucy at full volume.

“Don’t be loud. You know Pietro was used to it, because he had to listen to you since you shared a womb”

“Fine, I’ll play some music instead” she sighs. “You’re being so annoying today”

“Yeah, you made me walk twenty minutes out of main campus. And pack a bag, I’m definitely not walking you all the way here after the party, you’re staying with us”

Wanda keeps chatting and trying on clothes, but your attention turns to Natasha. Just like that, you made sure Wanda’s aware of the noise she makes around her new roommate, and you also gave Natasha a much needed break for the rest of the evening, because you could tell she was overwhelmed.

When Natasha finally looks up, her shoulders visibly relaxing, you wink at her, and enjoy how she blushes once again.

—

Over the course of the next couple of weeks, Natasha and you cross paths. It’s always when you’re visiting Wanda, because true to her word, Natasha only leaves her dorm for classes and the weekend trip to the library.

Natasha’s fully convinced that Wanda’s been keeping the volume of her music and tv shows down because you nag her about it, which she appreciates.

Except she doesn’t understand why you do it. Every time you’re over at the dorm, you go out of your way to make small talk with Natasha. You ask about classes, anything she’s got going on beside that. She wasn’t expecting this kind of friendliness, and she also doesn’t know how to respond to it. A big part of Natasha is convinced you’re doing it out of pity, because it’s so obvious she has no friends. Not that you ever run into each other outside of the dorm, but she’d not expect for you to reach out to her or acknowledge her presence.

Which is why she’s so taken aback when she’s walking to the library one afternoon and hears someone calling her name.

She’d recognise the sweet timber of your voice anywhere. She also tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as you approach her.

“Hey, Nat! First time seeing you outside of the dorm” you smile at her. The redhead adjusts her backpack, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You look… uh, nice glasses”

You were about to say cute, but changed your mind at the last minute.

Coward.

“I need a book for my Organic Chem class and apparently they only have it at Foster Library”

“Well, it’s a nice day out for a walk, isn’t it? Mind if I join you?”

Natasha opens her mouth, refraining from asking why. She has no idea what to say to you or how to make small talk, but you’re smiling at her as if the idea of a walk together would make your whole day. So, she just nods and resumes her journey.

“I have to go to my Imperial Russia class but that’s not for another half hour” you say, walking next to her. “What about you?”

“I’m done for the day. But I do have a lot of assignments” she sighs, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Same, might have to skip partying for the weekend”

“So, Imperial Russia?”

“I think it’s fascinating. Well, all history, really, it has been a nightmare to choose my courses. I wanna go to every single class”

“My sister got obsessed with the idea that she was a lost Romanov princess” Natasha says, smiling and relaxing at the memory. “I think we all had to sit through Anastasia at least once a week”

“Oh, that’s cute. Does she look like Anastasia or something?” you say, a little confused.

“Oh, no… we are from Russia. And our family name is Romanoff” she clarifies, blushing. You laugh at that, holding on to her arm and leaning forward.

“That seems like a very big coincidence. Are you sure you’re not remotely related to them?” you tease.

“Very” she clears her throat, trying to calm her racing heart at your sudden proximity.

Luckily for her, you wait outside while she gets the books she needs for class. Natasha was expecting you to use the library as an excuse to keep walking to class, but you insist on waiting for her.

Is she supposed to walk you to class? It would mean going out of her way, while you were just going along her path as it was convenient for you. Deciding it would be weird to follow you around campus, Natasha is ready to say goodbye, but you’re waiting by the entrance, two disposable cups in hand.

“Chocolate or coffee?” you say. You had no idea what she liked, so you got two different things.

“Whichever is fine” she hurries to say, taking a cup from your hand. Her blush only increases when your fingers graze against hers, and you smile.

Natasha tries not to grimace at the bitter taste of coffee. She would have prefered something sweeter, but she’ll never say it. It’s bad enough you went through the trouble of getting her something.

“I’ll walk you to class” she decides, surprising even herself.

“Really? You don’t have to. I know you’ll have to walk back home”

“It’s ok” she says, though her heart and stomach are telling a different story. You nod appreciatively, and walk by her side to Pullman Hall, where most of your classes take place.

“Do you speak any Russian?” you ask, suddenly shy.

“Yeah, Mom made sure we learned it. Though sometimes I wish I didn’t understand the conversations she has with dad”

“Wow” you laugh at that, and that makes Natasha smile. She likes to be the reason you’re happy.

Whatever that means.

“I was asking because sometimes I just feel like I’m not entirely getting something in class, like it gets lost in translation, you know?”

“Yeah, I can imagine”

Natasha had to struggle with living with a father that couldn’t really grasp everything in the English language, while she and her sister were basically native speakers. Most of the time, it was harmless misunderstandings.

“So, if you’re ever free, and I’m struggling with something, would you be able to help me?” you say. Natasha misses the way you blush, too busy hiding her own.

“Yeah, of course”

“I can pay you. Or we could go out for dinner. A movie. Whatever you want”

Natasha is about to answer, when you hear someone call for you. Darcy, your roommate and friend, is fast approaching, but she has a murderous glare.

“You finished the orange juice and didn’t get more” she whisper yells, not even acknowledging Natasha’s presence.

“It was about to expire. I may have saved your life.” you try to joke.

“Don’t be a smartass. You’re paying for pizza next movie night. See you at home”

“Yeah, yeah” you roll your eyes. Natasha plays with the strap of her backpack and you have to control the urge of reaching out to hold her hand. “I should get to class. Thanks for walking me”

“Thanks for the coffee. See you around”

“Definitely” you nod, smiling as she adjusts her glasses again.

Maybe you’ll stop by to visit Wanda, even if you’re slammed with work.

—

It’s been two days since Natasha saw you at campus, and her mind keeps going back to those minutes she spent with you.

What a weird feeling, to crave someone’s presence. She wanted the walk to last longer, or at the very least, that she had a way to find you again and keep talking.

She’s lonely, that’s it. You’ve been kind enough to pay attention and that’s why she feels this way.

The only problem is, Natasha really is up to her ears in essays and assignments, and it’s been a real struggle to focus on something other than the way your eyes light up when she says something funny.

She finally gives up, pushing away the book she’s trying to read.

And then you walk inside, frantically calling for your friend.

“Wanda? Where are you?”

Natasha jumps out of her chair, leaving her room in a hurry. It isn’t like you to just barge in, and you sound upset.

“Hey” she says, leaning against the doorframe. You jump, turning around with your hand over your chest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you”

“Nat! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let myself in, but I…” you avoid her eyes, looking at your feet instead.

“Wanda’s out. What’s wrong?” she finally walks into the living room, concerned.

“It’s stupid. You have work to do. I should leave” you hurry to say, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“It can’t be stupid if it’s bothering you. Come on”

Natasha should let you go, promise to tell Wanda that you stopped by. But as soon as you finally look at her, she spots the unshed tears clouding your vision.

Wordlessly, she leads you to the kitchen and you sit down, playing with your hands and wiping away the tears that are starting to fall.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” she says after handing you a glass of water. The way she looks at you makes you calm down, your shoulders visibly relaxing as she smiles.

“I cry when I’m angry. So these are angry tears, basically. I hate it” you tilt your head back, wiping your eyes carefully, though you’re sure your eyeliner is completely ruined now.

“Who upset you?”

“It’s stupid, really” you insist, imagining what Natasha will think once you explain. But you’re here now and it feels even more idiotic to pretend like nothing’s wrong. “I was, uh, seeing this girl last semester. Carol Danvers”

“Oh”

Natasha knows who she is. Danvers is a senior, star player of the lacrosse team. Though she's also known as another kind of player, always at parties looking for girls to hook up with.

“Yeah, it was just not official because I’m sure you know she likes to fuck anything with a pulse” you try to laugh but it comes out as a sob. Clearing your throat, you place strands of hair behind your ears, hoping you don’t look as bad as you feel. “And then this summer I was just a desperate idiot, texting her. Carol barely replied and I figured she might be busy”

“I’m guessing that wasn’t why she didn’t text back” Natasha says, leaning against the kitchen island.

“No, I just ran into her at the dining hall, and she was all over her ex, Maria Rambeau. I’m gonna kill her” your mood shifts suddenly. “I just feel like an idiot and I hate it. All she had to do was put on her big girl pants and tell me she wasn’t interested anymore. Instead I made a fool of myself”

Natasha feels cornered, your sudden fit of rage scaring her a little. She wouldn’t dream of making you upset if this is what you look like when it happens.

But it’s also kind of cute.

“See? You think it’s stupid” you sigh, noticing her smile. Natasha is quick to shake her head, cursing herself.

She can’t say she was smiling because she thinks you’re cute.

“No, it’s not stupid at all. I’m just not good at this sort of thing…”

You’re about to joke, tell her she’s done more than she should considering you just walked in her dorm while she’s slammed with work.

Except Wanda decides to finally show up. You turn around, unaware that Natasha’s eyes are glued to you.

“Hey… what… did you do something to her?” Wanda’s demeanor goes from confused to complete rage. You realise she’s asking Natasha if she’s the reason you’re crying.

“Wow, now hold on. She was helping me” you raise your hands, leaning on Natasha’s side for a second to assure her Wanda won’t bite her head off. “If you wanna take it up with someone, it’s Danvers”

“Ugh, I knew it. She’s going to pay” Wanda stomps to her room, and you sigh, turning to Natasha.

“I gotta make sure she’s not plotting Carol’s disappearance. Thank you for… listening to me”

“Anytime” she promises, nodding as you smile one last time before following your friend to her room.

Natasha can hear your voices, even if Wanda closed her door to give you some privacy. It isn’t the noise that distracts her. It’s about the fact you dated one of the most popular girls in school.

Of course, that’s someone fit for you. Natasha couldn’t compete with that.

At least now she knows the truth, and can go back to focusing on her studies. Maybe you’ll find someone else, and won’t have time to see Wanda anymore. Maybe, that’s the only way Natasha will stop thinking about you.

But the thought of someone else with you twists her stomach into a knot.

—

Morning light filters through the kitchen window, and you sing along to an Elton John song as you flip another pancake.

“Whatever gets you through the night” you hum. Turns out, what got you through your embarrassing predicament was a big party and a large amount of alcohol. But now, you really gotta focus on your work or you’ll fall behind.

Thinking about all the articles you have to read, and all the essays to draft, you miss Natasha’s footsteps as she leaves her room.

“Sorry, was the music too…?” you turn around, aware that it’s early morning on a Saturday.

Your mind stops working when you look at Natasha, wearing a white tank top and grey sweatpants. Her arms are surprisingly toned and you can’t help but stare.

Say something.

But she’s also staring at you with an indecipherable look.

“Nice shirt” she finally comments. “Looks good on you”

“It’s yours, isn’t it?” you realise a moment later. Of course. You found it in the bathroom and just assumed it was Wanda's. “I’ll go get changed, sorry”

“No” Natasha immediately blocks your path, her bravado disappearing as soon as you look up at her, expectantly. “Keep it. Looks good”

“Oh. Thanks” you say, taking a step back. “Want breakfast? Wanda already left, she had a group project to finish”

“Sure” Natasha nods, and you go back to making pancakes. There’s silence as you prepare the food, only realising Natasha’s closer when she leans forward, trapping you between her body and the kitchen island.

“Sorry, I wanted a mug” she apologizes, her hand on your hip. All you can do is nod, heat creeping up your cheeks at her proximity.

“Thank you for yesterday” you say looking over your shoulder, your voice small.

“You feeling better?”

“Less like an idiot” you say with a smile.

You honestly couldn’t care less about Carol. It was about the attention and she was a good fuck, but deep down, you knew she’d never be one to committ.

“You’re not that. Danvers was the only one at fault”

“I mean, yeah. I guess I gotta start thinking before getting in bed with a fuckgirl, huh?”

“Right” Natasha stutters, pouring some milk and looking away.

“No coffee?”

“I prefer sweet stuff” she admits, sitting down with a plate full of pancakes.

“You took the coffee I ordered the other day and didn’t say a word” you complain.

“But you went through all that trouble and it would have been rude” Natasha shrugs her shoulders, avoiding your eyes.

You eat in silence for a few minutes, stealing glances here and there. Natasha’s phone pings a couple of times, and you’re dying to know who it is, especially when she snorts at one of the messages she gets.

“Do you like games?” you say out of the blue.

“Like videogames?”

“More like board games” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, I love Settlers of Catan” Natasha nods, and you want to slam your head against the table. Of course, she’s a genius and likes those games that you never understand.

“That sounds fun, yeah. I meant Uno or Jenga. Ya know, things that are easier”

She probably thinks you’re stupid.

Uno? Really?

“Right. That’s cool too. Why do you ask?” she says, smiling. The way she looks at you makes you relax, and you put your fork down. You were done eating anyway.

“We have game night every other week. Basically, when we have too much work to actually go out and party, but still wanna decompress or just hangout. Maybe you’d wanna join us sometime?”

“Sounds fun” she nods, but that’s not a yes or no. Would it be too pushy if you ask her tonight?

Then, her phone pings again and your mouth is faster than your brain.

“Gimme your phone”

“W-what?” Natasha’s hand stops midair, and you’re sure she’d be fidgeting with her glasses if she had them on.

“I mean… I could give you my phone number. And if you decide to come, just text me”

“Oh, sure” Natasha says, unlocking the device and passing it on. She smiles, taking your plate and going to wash the dishes.

“I’ll do that”

“You made breakfast. It’s the least I could do” she says, and you smile, going back to save your phone number.

“Someone’s calling you”

Someone saved as Yel.

“Sorry, I have to take this” she says, hurrying back to her room. Just like that, Natasha’s gone and you’re alone in the kitchen.

Are you seriously going to fall for Wanda’s roommate? The girl who is not interested in socializing and definitely not interested in you?

You look down at the shirt you’re wearing, remembering it’s hers. As you notice how big it is on you, it reminds you of Natasha in a tank top, and you blush.

Yes, you’re definitely falling for Natasha.

And you’re not giving the shirt back.

—

It’s been a week.

After two days of obssesively checking your phone, Wanda made you confess what had happened.

When it became clear Natasha was so not interested, you avoided the dorm at all costs. Until Wanda practically dragged you to her place next Saturday.

“Close the door” you hiss as soon as you walk into her room, hoping Natasha isn’t home.

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Wanda says, rolling her eyes.

Instead of answering, you plop down in her bed, arm above your eyes.

“Ok, I gave her my phone number, told her to text me. While wearing her t-shirt and making her pancakes. The ball could not be more in her court”

“Does she even know there’s a ball?” Wanda laughs, which makes you look up.

“What do you mean?”

“Weren’t you crying about Carol the day before? Maybe she thinks you’re looking for a rebound” Wanda shrugs her shoulders, doing her makeup. She’s going back to too much eyeliner.

“Shit. You think so?”

It wasn’t like you said you were in love with Carol - which, you weren’t-. You just mentioned being casually seeing her and being pissed about her gaslighting.

“But there’s also the girl that was texting her” you say, thinking about the mysterious Yel.

“Well, I’ve never seen anyone visiting her. And she’s always in her room”

“Internet girlfriend?” you guess. “Long distance, maybe”

“Or caftfishing. Nat strikes me as one to be naive enough” Wanda says with a smirk.

“Don’t be mean” you nudge her with your foot and she pinches your calf. “Bitch”

“Whiny lesbian. Just ask her out properly”

“I don’t wanna seem desperate. What?” you say when Wanda coughs to hide her laughter.

“All week, you’ve been staring at your phone like a maniac. You are desperate”

Wanda keeps doing her make up, the music blasting a little louder than normal, but this time you don’t say anything about it. Maybe Natasha will ask her to turn it down and will see you and then you’ll get talking…

Ugh.

It’s like your best friend can read your mind, laughing when you place one of her pillows over your head and all but scream into it.

“Come here, I’ll do your makeup” Wanda says, and you pout.

“I already did it. Do I look that bad?”

“You need more eyeliner and your lipstick is just gone”

With another sigh, you lean against her headrest, and she straddles your lap.

“Do you remember when my mom walked in on us just like this?” she laughs and you pinch her side.

“And she gave you the talk about how it’s ok to be gay”

You both laugh at that, and a moment later Wanda’s done with the makeup.

“You look hot. So go and ask her out”

“What if…”

“Just go” Wanda pushes you out the door, her bag swaying with the movement. You’re startled by how she slaps your ass, the sound making Natasha look up from her spot in the kitchen island.

Her smile is shy, but it’s there, and she doesn’t run away the minute you’re in the same room like she used to do.

“Going to a party?”

“Yeah, we…” you turn to look at Wanda, who is pretending to fix her hair in the living room mirror. “Would you like to come with us? It could be fun”

“Thanks, but I’m going to meet some of Yelena’s friends” she rolls her eyes.

Yelena. As in the girl who texts her and makes Natasha smile and laugh.

“Oh. Well, have fun”

“You too” she nods, but all you want to do is go back to your room and hide under the covers for the rest of the night.

“Let’s go” Wanda says, pulling you by the arm without sparing a glance towards Natasha. “Come on, you tried. It’s no big deal. Let’s get drunk”

You think about all the essays you have to write, the fact you’re behind on some of your readings… and then you remember the way Natasha smiles at her phone when that Yelena girl texts her.

“Yeah, let’s get wasted”

—

It’s a rare thing, for Natasha to be going out to a place that isn’t campus or the grocery store. But her sister came to visit and she’s been nagging her about meeting her friends.

Natasha suspects one of them is more than a friend, and that is why Yelena wants her to meet them.

By the time she reaches the bar, Yelena and her group of friends are already sitting at a big table. The blonde is laughing with a guy with short hair, and Natasha takes a moment to look at him.

No, that can’t be the one Yelena’s dating.

“You made it!” Yelena shouts, all eyes turning to Natasha.

The redhead smiles, waving at her sister and walking to their table.

“Hello” she greets everyone.

“Bob, Ava, Kate, this is my sister Natasha” Yelena says, moving to the side so her sister can sit with them.

“Nice to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you” Ava says.

“All good things, I hope”

“Well, she did tell us about the time you went as Gandalf to a Halloween party” Bob says, and Natasha glares at Yelena.

“Bob, stop!” Yelena says, hiding her face in her hands. “She’s going to kill me”

“Oh, why? I thought it was a good thing?” the guy says, looking around the table.

So he’s the golden retriever of the group, friendly and clueless. Ava, who is Natasha’s age seems to be the voice of reason.

That leaves Kate. Natasha notices some of the glances she shares with Yelena, or the way they laugh at certain things that no one else understands.

“Bishop, can we do a rematch? You beat me at darts last time and it’s been bugging me” Ava says at one point.

They both leave, laughing and dragging Bob along.

“They’re nice” Natasha comments, happy that Yelena has found a good group to hang out with.

It was tough to leave for college, and even harder to learn Yelena had chosen a school that was across the country from her sister. From spending all their time together, now they only saw each other during the holidays.

“Yeah, they’re all great” Yelena says, but Natasha notices she’s only looking at Kate.

“Have you asked her out yet?”

“Hey!” her sister complains, and Natasha laughs.

“You must really like her, then. I’ve seen you go for it without hesitation before”

“Well, I just don’t want it to be weird if it doesn’t work… we’re good friends” Yelena says. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Natasha says too soon for Yelena’s liking.

“I meant, how are things with the roommate. But now you’re acting weird. Do you have a crush on her?”

“No, it’s nothing like that”

Of course, Natasha wasn’t lying. But the thing is, she’s getting used to your presence. She looks forward to you visiting Wanda, moving to do her homework in the living room instead of locking herself up in her room.

She wished she had the courage to ask you out, but Natasha’s never dated anyone. Painfully aware of how out of her league you are, she can’t help but imagine you’d refuse to go on a date with her.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to make some friends, Tasha”

“Yeah, I know. I just… it’s hard for me” Natasha says, looking at her hands.

Except when she’s around you. It’s always easy to spend time with you and actually enjoy it.

“Come on, let’s team up and beat Kate and Ava” Yelena proposes, chugging the last of her beer.

Natasha follows her sister, and she doesn’t miss the way Kate’s hand lingers when she hands over the darts to Yelena.

She immediately thinks about you, the few times her fingers have touched yours for a split second.

Maybe she will text you after all. She’s pulling her phone when Yelena calls her out.

“Come on, Tasha, loser buys the next round of drinks”

So, Natasha saves her phone, hoping to text you later.

For now, though, she has to team up for a free drink.

—

The music is loud, the sorority house crowded.

But the noise and the people aren’t enough to keep you from thinking about Natasha. Meeting Yelena’s friends.

So it must be serious, huh?

“Why do you look so pissed off? Is it Danvers?” Val says, approaching you with a new drink. Carol’s here but you didn’t even notice.

You take the glass and down half of the liquid.

“Do you know any Yelena that goes to school here?”

Who is she? What makes her so damn special? Probably someone older, Natasha would never date a young, stupid, irresponsible…

As your thoughts spiral, you finish the drink.

“Yelena? No, name doesn’t ring a bell. Did she wrong you? We will restore your honor, princess”

You let out a laugh at that, and then your eyes meet Carol’s. She seems ready to walk up to you, but Val is quicker, dragging you to dance. Wanda is already there, swaying to the music with some of your friends.

There’s a bottle of tequila that gets passed around, and you take a large gulp, dancing until the heat is too much and you decide to step outside. Wanda barely listens when you tell her you’re getting some air.

Leaning on the wall, you sigh. It’s fresh out and now that you’re outside, your ears are ringing. This is stupid. You should be acting more mature, instead of like a child that throws a tantrum because she doesn’t get her way.

Natasha’s with someone else, big fucking deal. You should be moving on. There’s gotta be someone in that house that wants to sleep with you.

But the minute you try to go back inside, your stomach turns. All you can think about is Natasha’s beautiful green eyes, her shy smile.

“Fuck”

Doble fuck, when you notice Carol’s looking around. You know that look. She’s clearly alone tonight and horny.

Not today, Satan.

Before you make a stupid mistake, you decide to leave the party, texting your friends to let them know you’re going back home.

But where’s home, exactly? It takes you 15 minutes walking to realise you’re just wandering around campus, wasted and lost. You sit on the steps of the main library, and all you can think about is that time you followed Natasha like a puppy, probably looking stupid.

Damn it.

“You ok?” a voice startles you, and you look up, rubbing your eyes.

“Yeap”

The guy looks familiar, but the last thing you want is some dumb fuck trying to act like a knight in shinning armor.

“I think you’re in my American Studies class” he says.

“I don’t know. Maybe” you say, pulling out your phone, thinking it might be wise to call Darcy and ask for her help. She’s gonna be pissed but it’s getting late and you’re practically alone with this stranger.

“I’m Jake” he says with a smile, and you want to throw your phone at his stupid face. As if you even asked what his fucking name is.

“Have a goodnight, Jake from American Studies” you say, standing up to walk around him. Unfortunately, you stumble, and the guy takes advantage, grabbing you by the waist. He’s definitely closer than he needs to be.

“Looks like you could use a hand” he tries to joke, but you feel dread invade your system as his hand slides down to your lower back. Way lower.

“No, I’m fine. Let me go” you push him away, but you’re drunk and he’s stronger. While you struggle, your phone falls to the floor.

“Just let me take care of you” he whispers in your ear.

This cannot be happening. You’re about to scream for help, when his overwhelming presence disappears, and is replaced by green eyes that you’d recognise anywhere.

“Are you ok?” Natasha says. She doesn’t manhandle you like the idiot did, placing her hands delicately in your face instead.

“Yes. I’m fine. How did you…?”

You’re about to ask something, but the adreline rush and the alcohol make you dizzy, so you close your eyes to try to calm down. The guy says something to Natasha, but your heart is beating in your ears, and you can’t even hear him.

“Leave before I call campus police” Natasha says, making it very clear she’s not messing around. You take a deep breath, opening your eyes. Natasha’s gaze is fixed on you, a frown clouding her features. “Is Wanda around?”

“No, I didn’t want to stay at the party, so I left early but got lost. I, uh, can find my way home, don’t worry, I know you’re busy…”

“What did you drink?” Natasha says, her palm against your forehead. “You’re sweating”

“Tequila, a beer or two. I’m sorry, I can take care of myself, you should go…” you stumble with your words, mortified. She probably thinks you’re an idiot.

But instead, Natasha squeezes your hand, smiling gently.

“I’d feel better if you came back home with me. That way I can keep an eye on you”

“I don’t want to bother you” you say, turning away. If you keep looking at those beautiful eyes, you know you’ll agree to anything.

“Please” she says, her raspy voice a tone lower than usual. As if you’d be doing her a favor by coming over and making her take care of you. It’s very clear she won’t take no for an answer, so you nod, allowing her to lead you to the parking lot.

The ride to her place is a short one, but you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. As soon as Natasha parks, she gets out and walks to your side, opening the door for you.

“I’m ok. Thank you” you mumble, slurring your words. Between the exhaustion and the alcohol, you’re having trouble walking straight. The feeling of Natasha’s hands around your waist might be a dream, but you’re fine with it. Her touch is soft and gentle, unlike that idiot.

“I’ll get you some water” Natasha says as you walk inside, making you sit on the couch.

You play with the fabric, trying to focus on something other than the throbbing in your head. It’s really weird, because you had very little to drink, or at least that’s what you recall. Maybe you were more upset than you thought.

“Sorry about ruining your date” you say out of the blue, remembering why you were in a bad mood.

“What date?” Natasha says, frowning. She hands you a glass of water and you take it with a nod.

“Didn’t you say you were meeting your girlfriend’s friends?” you say between sips, closing your eyes.

“Yelena? She’s my sister. I thought I told you about her. The one who thought she was the lost Romanov princess” Natasha says with a smile.

You’re not smiling, though.

“Wait, so… you’re not dating anyone?”

“I’ve never dated, to be honest” the redhead shrugs her shoulders. You stand up suddenly, ignoring the way the room spins. “Wow, what’s wrong?”

“So if you’re single, why haven’t you texted me?” you pace around the room, agitated. “I was waiting… I thought I made it clear I like you”

“You… do?”

“I… think I’m going to be sick" you say, and Natasha’s by your side in an instant. “I’m such an idiot”

“You’re not, it’s ok. Want to change into some comfortable clothes?”

“Ok” you nod. You let her walk you to a room, but you’re so dizzy that you only realise it’s hers when she opens the door.

She lets you sit on the bed while she goes through her closet, handing you a t-shirt like the one you never gave back.

“I’ll be right outside while you get changed, ok?”

You nod, and she leaves, closing the door on her way out.

Natasha leans against the wall, thinking about all the things you just said. Did you mean them? Should she do something about it?

It felt weird, considering you were intoxicated, and maybe it wouldn’t be something you’d admit out loud if you weren’t drunk. Could it be because you were ashamed about liking Natasha?

All this time, she thought you were just being nice…

Could she really be that oblivious?

“Everything ok in there?” she decides to stop thinking about this, focusing on you instead.

When she doesn’t get a reply, she peaks inside. You’re in the t-shirt Natasha left for you, fast asleep in her bed.

The sight makes Natasha’s stomach turn, but not in an unpleasant way.

Even if you look fine, she decides to sleep on the floor, next to the bed, just in case you need something.

“Nat” you mumble against the pillow after a few minutes.

“I’m here” she says, reaching for your hand. You sigh, squeezing her fingers, settling once more.

You don’t let go for the rest of the night.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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p1astr81 · 3 months ago

Text

you’re the one that I want - op81

synopsis: when Oscar joined the spring musical, you swore you hated him for it. Because you did. Didn’t you?

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: misogynistic comments, idk if there’s any more

wc: 5k

an: the grease scenes described are based on the movie, not the Broadway musical!!. not proofread

This wasn’t Oscar’s field.

This wasn’t him.

He didn’t belong here.

You knew it, everyone in the regular rotation of cast knew it. It was like an insult to you all, using the spring musical as a form of punishment. He was only here because he lost a bet.

He didn’t actually care about any of it. It was highly infuriating.

This year, the director chose to put on Grease. Getting the role of Sandy would be the highlight of your entire high school career. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you didn’t get it.

You were freaking out backstage, your friend trying to calm you down. Oscar walked by you, being called on stage for his audition.

And when he sung, it temporarily shocked you out of your nerves.

Because he was good.

The guy who missed half the year for some races, could sing. Like, really sing.

So it didn’t really come as a surprise that when the cast list was posted, his name was imprinted across from Danny Zuko.

Right under yours, across from Sandy Olsson.

He was your counterpart.

The first rehearsal was hell. Oscar didn’t know a single theater term and it was causing confusion all across the stage. And he was terrible at acting. Even worse, he was shit at dancing.

“It’s like dancing with a mannequin.” You confessed to your friend after that first rehearsal. “There’s no emotion to it, and he’s fully awkward the whole time.” You huffed, shaking your head and shrugging on your jacket.

Your friend shrugged. “Maybe he just needs to get used to it? I mean, it’s his first show.”

Hating to give him the befit of the doubt, you rolled your eyes. “For my sake, I hope that’s the case.”

It wasn’t the case. Two weeks later and he was still hopeless on his feet. He needed help, and lost of it, because he was starting to make you look bad.

Your director pulled the both of you aside before rehearsal. “Your stage chemistry is out the window. No one is believing you two are in love, let alone even like each other.” She sighed. “I’m not asking you to be best friends. I’m just asking you to pretend. For just two hours.”

You spoke before Oscar. “Okay, we’ll fix it.”

“Thank you.” She exhaled a heavy breath.

During rehearsal, you’d ran through the entire prom scene and recorded it. The video sat in front of you now, in a cafe, paused so you could critique it. “You have to make this look natural. Look, you’re making me look like a dead body.” You complained. “You’ve gotta lean into it.” You continued, trying to demonstrate what you mean with your own body.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Sorry I’m not broadway trained.” A fake apology, which only annoyed you more.

“Don’t get all defensive. I’m trying to help!” You huffed. “You just need to try to act, and it doesn’t even look like you’re doing that.” You looked him over in judgement.

Oscar stiffened, his jaw clenched. “I didn’t even ask for your help.”

Trying to compose yourself, you stared at the ceiling, a deep inhale through your nose. You slammed the laptop shut. “You’re making the both of us look bad. I’m trying to put on a perfect show and you’re making that impossible.” You huffed, standing with your laptop in hand. “Why didn’t you just fail your audition on purpose? Then you wouldn’t be here.”

Oscar ignored your question. “Your Australian accent is shit, by the way.”

You scoffed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You replied, generous amounts of sarcasm. Your frustration had reached boiling point and it carried your steps out to your car at a rapid pace. Once the door was shut, you let out a silent scream.

Can’t damage those vocal cords.

Frustration was packed full in the air. You attempted to keep it inside, but when Oscar kept stepping on your toes and handling you like a sack of potatoes, you just broke.

“Are you trying to make me look bad?” You whisper shouted. It was only you two in the hallway, having taken him out during your 5 minute break.

Oscar got defensive again. “No! Why must everything be about you?”

“Because you couldn’t give less of a fuck about this!” Your hand shot out, giving his shoulder a rough shove. He flinched back, a look that silently questioned your audacity. “It’s just a pastime for you.” You eyed him over in pure disgust and resentment.

A harsh reply sat on the tip of Oscar’s tongue. He wouldn’t let it slip past his lips, for it was too personal an attack.

“Why don’t you just quit?” You asked.

“Oh, I bet you’d love that, JJ taking my role.” Oops. Guess it slipped.

Your jaw clenched, and then your body went rigid when a voice came from behind you. “Ah, what’s going on here?” Smooth, low, teasing.

JJ. Your ex boyfriend. He cheated on you four times. One of which being with your former best friend. How you missed it that many times, you didn’t know, but it humiliated you to no end.

Oscar caught every micro-expression of yours. The way your eye twitched. The slight deepening of your brows. The heavy swallow that rippled your throat as it went down right before you turned around.

“Nothing. We’ll be back in a moment.” Your voice was cold, filled with more resentment than you’d shown Oscar.

JJ grinned. “Okay,” and then he winked. “Lookin good in that dress. Yellow’s your color.”

It made you sick to your stomach, and Oscar could see it when you turned back to him in the way your face twisted.

“‘M sorry. For the… what I said. It wasn’t right.” He apologized, earning a very shocked expression from you.

You shook your head, smoothing your hands over your yellow costume dress. “It’s fine.” It was inhumane, how fast you could compose yourself. “I guess our five minutes is up.” You muttered, slipping back into the auditorium.

“I don’t know what to do. He’s so… I don’t know.” You sighed, slumping farther in your seat. “It’s been a month of rehearsals and he still looks so unnatural when dancing.” You sighed. “His acting has gotten better, at least.”

Your friend twisted in her chair, sliding her completed worksheet over to you so you could copy it. You were hopeless at physics. “Why don’t you help him then?” She raised a brow.

“What do you mean?” You questioned, your eyes finding the back of his head across the classroom.

She sighed. “We don’t have rehearsal today so just ask him to come over and then you can help him. One on one.”

You bit your cheek and huffed. “Can’t you do it?”

“No. I don’t know his scenes. And you’re his dancing partner. And! You’re the one complaining.”

You threw your head back in annoyance.

“I don’t know why you hate him so much. He’s a nice guy.” She insisted.

A bitter laugh. “Maybe to you.” You shook your head. He apologized for what he said about JJ, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t still a low blow. “But he doesn’t care about this. It’s all a joke to him.” You repeated the words you’ve said plenty of times lately. The repetition didn’t make it any less true.

“Maybe, but you’ve also been staring at him for the past two minutes.”

You hadn’t even realized, but once she pointed it out, you straitened up. Eyes now trained on your shoes. “Fine. I’ll ask him.”

She didn’t expect you to get up right then, and cross the room to occupy the empty seat beside Oscar.

He turned to you, unimpressed but slightly raised his brows in a silent question.

“Okay so look,” you started. Oscar turned his body towards you. “I’ve been shitting on you for your dancing lately, but I haven’t tried to help. So, do you want to come over after school so I could help?”

“Uh…” he thought it over. He was meant to go to the track after school. His bunny teeth peeked by his lips. “Yeah I’ll just need your address.” He smiled. He supposed he could go to the track another day.

Your hand hit the desk. “Great.”

You expected to lose your patience with him quickly, but an hour in and you still weren’t miserable. An even bigger shock, you were enjoying yourself.

Maybe telling him to loosen up wasn’t the best idea. You tried to run through the prom scene again. When he was meant to flip you upside down in his arms, his grip wasn’t firm enough and you went tumbling down.

You stayed on the floor, holding onto your stomach as you tumbled through a fit of laughter. You pointed a finger up at him. “I did not mean that loose!”

Holding up his hands, Oscar chuckled. “Hey, you said loose so i delivered loose.” He held a hand to you. Your hand slipped into his palm and he hoisted you to your feet.

And then he took you by surprise, spinning you on your feet and dipping you in his arms. He handled you like you were as light as a sheet of paper.

You were stunned into silence, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Figured I’d finish the dance.”

You swallowed, gaze analyzing the details of his hazel eyes. “Uhuh.” You nodded absentmindedly. And then, “you’re leaning.” You pointed out, voice soft and hesitant.

“Yeah.” Equally soft. Equally hesitant.

Something lingered in the air, a shift from how it felt during rehearsals prior. Still heavy, but a different kind of heavy. Like the feeling of being watched rather than like having ten pounds resting on your shoulders.

The moments stretched, gazes locked on each other’s while he held you in that dip.

Until you cleared your throat and stood up. “Uh, how about we—uhm—dinner. Check on dinner? I think my mom is making pasta.” You stumbled, failing to ignore how your heart collided with your rib cage, over and over again. It was the dancing, you told yourself, the dancing is making my heart race not him.

“Yeah. Yeah.” You failed to notice the dark crimson color of Oscar’s cheeks.

The following day in physics, Oscar caught your eye as he filed into the room. He smiled, reserved. You returned the smile, equally as reserved.

“What the hell was that?” Your friend demanded.

“What?” You asked, eyes wide.

Her eyes darted from you to Oscar. “That- you just smiled at each other.” You struggled to find an excuse, and your friend filled your silence. “What the hell happened last night?” Her tone demanded an answer.

“Nothing! Well,” you sighed, she urged you with an impatient expression. “I don’t know. I actually enjoyed myself last night. Like, we weren’t arguing. We were laughing, even.” You shook your head.

“Aw you’ve found your Danny.” She teased, poking you in the arm.

You slapped her hand away. “Did not! He just wasn’t totally insufferable yesterday.” You muttered, leaning your head on your head.

She wasn’t so convinced.

And rehearsal didn’t help to convince her either. Every scene you ran together, it was clear you were enjoying yourself—unlike the previous weeks of rehearsal.

She kept an ear out for your conversations, too.

“You picked that up fast. You’re dancing like a pro now.” You told Oscar between sips of water.

He shrugged. “Guess I’ve got a pretty good teacher.”

She watched as you rolled your eyes while you failed to hold back a smile. The back of your hand hit his chest in response before walking off in her direction.

Interesting.

“So is he not totally insufferable today either?” She teased, a brow raised in suspicion. “Or are you method acting?”

You shook your head. “Shove another twinkie in it, Jan.”

“From the beginning! Let’s run it!” Your director clapped her hands.

Oscar reluctantly placed his hands on your waist.

“I’m going back to Australia, I might never see you again.” You recited.

Oscar shook his head. “Don’t- don’t talk that way, San.” His hands momentarily tightened their grip on your hips. His eyes flicked repeatedly between your eyes and your lips, like he didn’t know which to focus on.

Oh. You hadn’t practiced that. But maybe he was taking your advice. Maybe he was trying to improve his writing.

You continued anyway, taking a step closer to him. “But it’s true! I’ve just had the best summer of my life and now I have to go away.” You sighed, bowing your head. “It isn’t fair.”

Just as in the movie, Oscar slipped a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You both paused, very aware of the next move.

“We don’t have all day!” Your director impatiently commented, earning chuckles from the rest of the cast.

Oscar hesitated a second more before leaning forward. His lips on yours were soft, still reluctant as he led the kiss.

Your lips tingled, along with the tips of your fingers. And your brain felt light. It was strange. No stage kiss had ever done this to you before.

“Okay! Okay, stop!” Your director huffed. You took a big step back from Oscar, refusing to meet his eyes. “Oscar! This is supposed to be passionate! I want more fire! More desperation! Like you’re trying to devour her face! Like she’s the air you need to breathe and you’d just been drowning for a whole minute!”

You took a glance at Oscar, and couldn’t help but chuckle at his stunned expression and rosy cheeks. “I can do that.” He muttered.

“Great! Start from ‘it isn’t fair’.”

You turned back to Oscar, offering him a small, encouraging smile before getting serious. “It isn’t fair,” you repeated.

Once more, he brought his finger to your chin, inclining your head to face him. You caught the slight shake in his exhaled breath before he dove down.

And wow did he take the devouring part very serious.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close while he stole the air out of your lungs. It was a full make-out.

As scripted, you pulled away. “Danny don’t spoil it,” you were breathless, naturally, without even trying.

“I’m not spoiling it Sandy, it’s only making it better.” He held onto your arms, your hands planted on his shoulders. His eyes searched yours.

“Danny, is this the end?” You cocked your head to the side the slightest bit.

Oscar shook his head and laughed, an uncharacteristically cocky laugh for him. “Of course not.” He grinned. “It’s only the beginning.”

A beat. And then. “Brilliant!” Your director clapped her hands. You and Oscar stepped apart. “Wow! Just, wow! The chemistry!” She slot herself between you two, a hand on each of your shoulders. “God I was really convinced you were actually Sandy and Danny.” She looked between you two. “Amazing, truly amazing.” She shook her head in disbelief.

Then she turned to the collective. “I think that’s a good note to leave off on! Good night to you all.”

When she was no longer within earshot, you turned to oscar. “Not bad for a rookie.” You shrugged.

“Not bad? Cmon you’re not giving me enough credit.” He said, a level of flirtation unlike him.

“Are you trying method acting now?”

Oscar cocked his head to the side in question.

“You’re being flirty.” You pointed out. Oscar was stunned, brows shot up. The pink flush of his cheeks darkened.

He laughed nervously. “With you? I would never.”

You hummed. “Still flirting.” You sung, walking off. A broken argument followed you, though it didn’t make much sense.

“You have him all flustered.” Your friend muttered. You shook your head. “I wasn’t trying, but it was quite easy.” You shrugged, glancing back at him over your shoulder. He was still sporting a soft, pink glow on his cheeks.

Your friend missed school today, conveniently a lab day in physics.

“You can work with Piastri.” Your teacher dismissed, waving in his general direction. You contemplated protesting, but knowing it would be of no use, you didn’t.

Oscars hair flopped as he whipped around to look at you. “Well don’t look so annoyed.” He laughed.

You gave a sarcastic smile. “I’m dreadful at physics, fair warning.” You sighed, occupying the seat next to him. Your knees were nearly touching.

“It’s alright. It’s my best subject.” He shrugged.

You propped your head up on your hand, settling in for an hour of boredom. “What are we doing again? I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Oscar chuckled. “And you wonder why you aren’t good a physics.”

You scoffed, feigning offense.

“We’re building a car out of candy.”

You raised your brows. “Ah good! This is your area of expertise!” The back of your hand made contact with his bicep.

His eyes glanced from his arm, to your hand, to your face, before his gaze dropped to the table. “Uh, yeah.” He muttered, fidgeting with a piece of paper.

“Okay so, how are we building this then?”

Oscar perked up, searching the materials table with his eyes. “Could you grab a rice crispy, a few pretzel sticks, and a few… chocolate striped cookies?”

You raised a brow. “Am I your maid now?”

Blinking, Oscar’s brain stuttered for a reply. “Well, I’m the one doing this car aren’t I?”

Humming, you stood, silently collecting his requested items. “You made a good point.” You shrugged.

He cocked his head, brows shot up in surprise. “Is that a compliment?”

A hand of yours waved through the air. “Yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

“Ooh, that’s a difficult request.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling.

A soft smile, Oscar started working. You stood by, eyeing the way he expertly manipulated the candy in a way that he saw fit to make the quickest car.

It took him all of 20 minutes to construct it, leaving the both of you with an extra 20 minutes to do whatever.

Conscious mind absent, you started to hum you’re the one that I want, while drawing on the table with chalk markers. Not loud enough to disturb everyone around you, but certainly loud enough that Oscar could hear. To mess with you, he started to hum along.

Only when you heard him was when you recognized you were singing yourself.

Routinely, out of instinct, you started dancing in your seat. Oscar followed your lead.

“Okay, okay. Save it for drama practice.” Your teacher shook his head at the both of you.

You and Oscar paused before simultaneously chuckling. Even though you tried to hide it, it was quite obvious, as you both folded in half in the other’s direction.

As the class neared it’s end, you tested the cars. Yours and Oscar’s won by a large margin. “Your nerdy-ness came in handy.” You shoved his shoulder while you walked out of class together.

“Oh I’m nerdy? How long have you been doing theatre again?”

You pursed your lips. He got you there. “Alright, I’ll see you tonight.” You broke off from him with another shove to his shoulder.

The first night of tech week, you organized a get together at a restaurant after rehearsal. Of course, the cast and crew thought they were comedians. They left two open seats, right in the middle of the table. One for you. One for Oscar.

When you walked in, you took a pause before taking your seat beside your friend. “You did this, didn’t you?” You asked her. She shrugged innocently.

When Oscar arrived, he did the same. Pausing before taking his seat. “Just had to leave a seat open for me, did you?” He teased.

You sarcastically laughed. “No. They all did this.” You replied, gesturing to the cast and crew sitting around you both.

“Mmm, meddling pricks.” He muttered. Only you caught it, responding with a hidden chuckle.

The waitress came, taking your drinks and food orders.

“So how are you feeling about your first show?” You asked Oscar, grinning.

The corner of his mouth quirked up for just a second in deep thought. “Bit nervy, honestly.”

Your attention remained on him. “Better or worse than before a race?” It was a teasing question, but also sort of… genuine.

“You care about my nerdy hobbies now?” He teased right back.

A scoff. “Fine, I won’t ask you about your favorite thing on this planet.” A dramatic rebuttal, all things considering.

He stayed silent for a moment, before answering, “definitely worse. A trillion times worse.”

You tilted your head, an expression that communicated shock. “Really?”

“It’s just not what I know, you know? It’s all new to me, it’s not like I can just think on my feet like on the track. If I mess up, well I don’t think I can save it.” He shrugged.

The frown that pulled on your lips wasn’t purposeful. “Aw, that was very vulnerable.”

He shook his head. “I’m never speaking to you again.”

You chuckled, laying a hand on his arm as you leaned into him. “No but seriously, if you mess up, don’t worry. I’ll improv and make it look purposeful.” You leaned back in your chair. “It’s honestly the least I can do after you just saved my physics grade.”

It was Oscar’s turn to laugh now.

Two weeks ago, he would’ve avoided saying a single word to you. But now, he was rambling about his racing, just to keep you talking to him. Perhaps it was the fact that you were the only person he was familiar with. Or—more likely—something deeper.

And you entertained him. Laughing at the appropriate times, adding input when you saw fit. He talked so passionately about racing. You’d never admit it, but it was sort of… endearing.

Jesus, what was happening to you? You should be disgusted at the prospect of sitting near him. Should’ve demanded your friend swap seats with you. You definitely should not have been so engaged in the conversation, clinging on to every word he spoke.

And then Oscar called your name, dragging you from your own thoughts. “Hm?” You hummed, sitting up straighter.

And then a plate was placed in front of Oscar, and he slid it over to you. Your food. “Oh, thanks.” You muttered.

And then he leaned into you, swaying your body while saying, “you know, if I was boring you, you could have said something.”

Instead of replying, you stole a fry from his plate.

“Hey! You have your own food!” He pointed to your plate of pretzel bites.

You acted as if that was new information. “Oh, my bad! Would you like it back? I can-“

Predicting the direction of the conversation, he put a hand up to stop you, a grimace on his face. “No. No. You can keep it.”

For good measure, you stole another. In response, he stole a pretzel bite. And you carried on the rest of dinner like that, sharing your food without a formal agreement to.

Just before opening night, the whole cast turned up at your house. It was a Grease watch party.

The large group crowded into the theater room in your basement.

Like the the restaurant, you and Oscar ended up next to each other. Unlike at the restaurant, it was fully your choice.

He would make comments in your ear throughout. Just stupid comments to make you laugh. And you did laugh, like a total fool.

During ‘Sandy’, he turned to you to make another comment, only to see you sleeping on his shoulder. He didn’t even notice the weight of your head until he saw it with his eyes.

He became stiff out of fear that moving would wake you.

And right before ‘you’re the one that I want’, someone in the back of the room called the both of your names. “Cmon get up there! Give us a live performance!” They joked. The rest of the cast joined in on trying to urge the both of you.

You shifted in your sleep and fear spiked up Oscar’s spine. “Guys, she’s asleep.” He dismissed in a hushed yell.

“Aw!” Someone cooed, and then a flash went off. “I’m so saving that as blackmail.” It was your friend, giggling at the scene.

And then a water bottle was tossed at your head. A hand of yours slowly made its way to your head. You sat up with a groan. “Now she’s not!” JJ laughed.

Oscar twisted around, glaring holes into the very man who threw the bottle at you. “What the hell is your problem?”

Hushed whispers fell upon the room. No one had ever seen Oscar speak to someone like that.

JJ laughed. “Ah, cmon, it’s just a bit of fun.”

“Not when it’s your head being bashed in.” You grumbled, still trying to soothe the spot with your hand.

Oscar only noticed just then that his arm was around your waist. When it got there, he wasn’t sure.

JJ smirked. “Y’know Piastri, if you wanna get her to bed, all you have to do is ask nicely.” His chuckle was evil.

And it made Oscar’s stomach churn. You beat him to a reply. “Get out of my house. Right now.”

“Come on! I’m just joking!” JJ threw his arms out, looking around for at least one person on his side. There wasn’t a single one.

You stood, Oscar’s hand sliding from your waist. “Get out!” Your voice was irregularly shrill, your jaw clenched.

When he didn’t move, you took a fist full of his shirt, shoving him towards the door. “Out!” You ordered once more.

The rest of the cast watched the scene unfold, horrified. The movie was still playing in the back, providing an ironic soundtrack.

Oscar followed you up the stairs despite the protests from your friend.

“Tell me, what do you see in him, baby?” JJ asked.

“You have no right to call me that.” You seethed.

He ignored you. “Cmon, baby, just tell me. Is it his lame hobby of racing?”

“I don’t see anything in him beyond a friend!”

JJ laughed. “Oh he definitely wants a little bit more than friends, just not a commitment, though.”

“You don’t know what he wants! Not everyone is like you!”

JJ made eye contact with Oscar, who stood a distance behind you. He laughed bitterly. “Call me when you get bored of him, sweetheart.” He reached out to touch your face and you flinched away. He left at that, being sure to slam your front door.

“Oh my god!” Your voice broke in frustration. You took a deep breath before turning around. Eyes landing on Oscar, you jumped. “Oh, hi.” You muttered, trying to move past him.

He caught your arm. And then you noticed the movement of his feet. Jazz square stepping. And then the music from downstairs reached your ears. You’re the one that I want. And then he started singing, too.

“You’re an idiot.” You shook your head, chuckling. But joined him. Now you were secluded in the foyer of your house, singing and dancing together out of your own will, not because you had to.

Even when the song stopped, Oscar continued to hold you close. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. It didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Can I ask you something?” He asked, out of breath. You gulped before nodding. “Is this all for show?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?” You asked in a whisper.

His eyes lingered on your lips, his mouth agape while he tried to conjure the words in a way that conveyed him emotions. “I don’t feel like I’m playing a part anymore.” He confessed. “I don’t… it doesn’t feel like I’m faking this anymore.”

You stuttered, searching his eyes.

“If it’s not the same for you just don’t say anything. Spare me some dignity.” He tried to laugh. It just came out as a shaky breath.

You hesitated only a moment before your fingers threaded through the strands of his hair and you pulled him down. His lips met yours, and god was the feeling electrifying.

Months of buildup to this moment sparked between you, released by the acknowledgment of your long suppressed feelings. He deepened the kiss, drawing your body closer to his. His hands mirrored yours, slipping between the strands of your hair to keep you in place. It quickly evolved into a heated make-out.

You signed into it, and he laughed into your mouth. “I hate you.” You muttered, and he swallowed the sentiment. “Mh, evidently.”

“Wow. Looks like you really hate each other.” Your friend deadpanned.

You jumped apart. The entire cast was now standing in your foyer. You could die of embarrassment.

“Movie’s over.” She informed.

“Yeah, thanks. Gathered that.” You mumbled, your face now red hot. It couldn’t have been worse than the deep shade of red that colored Oscar’s entire face.

“At least their chemistry will be good now.” Someone quipped.

You hid your face in your hands. “Oh, god. Everyone get out.” Your words were muffled in your hands, but they got the point. Each one shuffled out the door, but not without sharing more one-off, witty comments.

Opening night had just finished, and Oscar didn’t make a single mistake. You were out in the cafeteria, receiving praise left and right when a woman came up to you. A large, pretty bouquet occupied her hands.

“This is for you, honey.” She said, handing it over.

“Oh! Thank you.” You we’re confused. You’d never seen this woman in your life. But you accepted the flowers.

And then Oscar came up to you, not noticing you at first. “Mum, can we get ice cream on the way home?”

You felt your body go cold. “Mum?” You glanced between the two of them. That’s when Oscar finally noticed your presence, and his eyes went wide.

You hadn’t even been dating for a day and you’re already meeting his parents!

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Nicole, Oscar’s mother.” You shook her outstretched hand. “He hasn’t stopped talking about you for months! I knew you were going to be excellent!”

Her words eased your worries, now focusing on a shiny new piece of blackmail. “Months, you say?” You asked her, but your eyes were on Oscar, who was now hidden behind his hand.

#f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #op81 #f1 x you #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri au #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 angst #f1 rpf

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manmuncher777 · 15 days ago

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Hiii could you write something nsfw abt getting comfy/falling asleep in roommate Geto's bed?

SLEEPOVER

A/n - hey my love, I hope you enjoy. I wasn’t too sure where to go with this one so just freestyles a bit. Hope you like it 💞

It’s nearly 3am by the time the front door slams shut behind you and Suguru. You both stumble inside in a tangle of limbs and tipsy laughter, shoes kicked off halfway down the hall, the faint bass from the party still ringing in your ears.

You’re still giggling when you half-collapse onto his couch, eyes glossy, cheeks flushed from the wine and whatever fruity shit you were mixing with vodka. Suguru’s already undoing the top buttons of his black shirt, that lazy grin tugging at his lips as he tosses his keys somewhere vaguely near the coffee table.

“Did you seriously take two bottles of wine for the walk home?” he asks, lifting one from your loose grip.

“They were just sitting there,” you shrug dramatically, legs kicked up on the armrest like you own the place. “And they were open. I did the responsible thing.”

Suguru scoffs, shaking his head with a chuckle as he disappears down the hall. “You’re gonna wake up dead tomorrow.”

“Not if I’m in your bed,” you call after him with a teasing sing-song. “That mattress is like sleeping in a goddamn cloud.”

“You’ve got your own mattress,” he calls back “its called the couch” —but there’s no bite to it. He’s already lost this argument and he knows it.

“Yours is better. Pleaseeee, Sugu,” you whine when he comes back into view, now in a loose tank and sweatpants, hair down, a few strands sticking to his cheek. He looks so unfair like that—casual and hot and warm and safe.

“Fine,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, though he’s already nudging you off the couch with a hand to your hip. “But no hogging the blankets this time.”

“No promises,” you grin up at him, letting him pull you to your feet. You stumble a little, grip tightening around his wrist—and Suguru laughs, catching you easily against his chest.

Your face ends up right there. Right at his collarbone. And it smells like him. Warm skin and cedarwood shampoo and just a hint of cigarette smoke. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his tank without thinking.

“Someone’s handsy tonight,” he teases low, voice dark and amused as he steadies you. His hand lingers at the small of your back, fingers spread a little too wide.

“Shut up,” you mumble, not moving an inch away.

You both stay like that for a beat too long. Long enough for your drunk little brain to start cataloguing how warm his palm feels. How big his hands are. How close your thighs are to brushing when you shift.

He doesn’t say anything when you follow him straight into the bedroom like you always do. Doesn’t comment when you throw yourself onto his bed, sighing like it’s the best thing in the world and dragging a pillow to your chest.

“You’re dramatic,” he says.

“You love it.”

And maybe it’s just the alcohol. Or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you now, a little too long, a little too soft.

But you don’t feel sleepy at all.

Suguru’s room is dim and warm, lit only by the streetlights filtering through the blinds. The buzz from the wine is still clinging to your skin, humming low in your belly as you wobble toward the dresser and yank open one of the drawers you’re far too familiar with.

Behind you, you hear the rustle of fabric, then the faint sound of Suguru exhaling through his nose.

When you glance over your shoulder, your eyes catch on the way his fingers are dragging his black shirt up and over his head—lazy and unhurried. You blink slowly, the breath catching in your throat for just a second too long.

He’s not even looking at you, the cocky bastard. Just tossing the shirt aside like he hasn’t just exposed broad shoulders, a toned chest, ink licking down one the gorgeous press of his back, tracing down his biceps and trailing under the hem of his sweats.

“Staring’s rude, y’know,” he drawls without turning.

“I’m drunk,” you say, too quickly. Too defensively.

“Didn’t say you had to stop.”

Your mouth opens. Closes. Heat blooms in your cheeks—not just from the wine this time.

You clear your throat and dig into his drawer again, tugging out a soft, oversized shirt that you know he sleeps in. The smell of it hits you instantly—like clean cotton and sandalwood and something distinctly him. You try not to sniff it like a creep.

Behind you, Suguru’s rubbing at the back of his neck, muscles shifting under golden skin, watching you now through his lashes. He’s got that look again—the one that says I’m letting you pretend I’m not staring.

You don’t look at him when you hook your fingers under your own shirt, lifting it up and off. A bit too fast. The fabric clings, and you get tangled for a second in your drunken flailing.

“Need help there, sweetheart?” he says, smug.

“Nope,” you huff, finally yanking it over your head, your bra coming undone a second later as you reach behind your back.

You don’t miss the silence that follows. Heavy. Sticky.

You glance over your shoulder and—yeah. He’s looking now. He’s absolutely looking. His eyes drag down your bare back, linger too long on the curve of your waist. And when you grab his shirt and pull it over your head, the hem barely brushing your thighs, he’s chewing his bottom lip like it’s a fucking snack.

“You sure that’s my shirt?” he asks, voice low, teasing.

You grin. “What, want me to check the tag?”

“No, I want you to take it off and try on another one,” he says, tone lazy. “So I can watch again.”

Your stomach flips.

“Pervert.”

“Accurate.”

You’re laughing—nervously, tipsily—but there’s a buzz beneath it now, something sticky sweet and heavy in your gut. You cross to the bed, your legs brushing his as you crawl onto it. Suguru is still standing, shirtless, his eyes following every movement you make.

“Gonna sleep in your jeans?” you ask, flopping onto the bed dramatically and tugging the covers down with you. “That’s psychotic behavior.”

“I wasn’t planning on sleeping at all,” he says, grabbing a pair of sweats and turning his back to you to change—but not before throwing you a smirk over his shoulder. “But thanks for the concern.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Geto,” you mumble, tucking yourself beneath the blankets. “Just don’t wanna get stabbed by your belt buckle in the middle of the night.”

“Ah,” he muses, stepping out of his jeans. “So you are planning on cuddling me.”

Your face burns. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” he replies smoothly, slipping under the covers beside you, his warmth immediately radiating against your side.

For a moment, you both just lie there. Not touching. Not talking. But the silence is loud. His thigh brushes yours. Your breath hitches. You can feel the way his arm is bent behind his head, the way his bicep flexes just slightly when he adjusts.

You shift. He doesn’t.

“…You’re warm,” you murmur.

“You’re not subtle.”

“I’m drunk.”

“I know. You’ve said”

Another beat.

You look over at him. His dark eyes are already on you, half-lidded, soft at the edges. He looks… calm. But his gaze is heavy, taking you in like you’re something he wants to unwrap and devour.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whisper.

He smiles, slow and smug. “Like what?”

“Like you want to—”

“Touch you?”

Your breath stutters.

You swallow. “You said we were just sleeping.”

“I said I wasn’t planning on sleeping,” he corrects, inching just a little closer.

And now there’s barely any space between you. You can feel the warmth of his skin through the cotton of his shirt. His breath fans against your cheek.

The silence between you stretches out again, but it’s not uncomfortable—it’s dense. Charged. The air feels thick enough to drink.

You shift under the covers, turning just slightly so your knees brush Suguru’s thigh. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. But you feel the tension flicker through him like a current.

You pretend not to notice.

“Hey,” you murmur, half into your pillow. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

His voice comes out low, warm. “You say that like this isn’t the third time this month.”

You laugh softly. “I say it every time.”

“I know.” He pauses, glancing over. “You always wear my shirt, too.”

“Maybe I like it,” you say, eyes still on the ceiling. “Smells like you.”

“Yeah?” His voice dips. “And what’s that smell like?”

You hum thoughtfully, shifting again. Your foot nudges his leg. He doesn’t pull away.

“Smells like…” you pretend to consider it, “cologne, cedarwood, too much ego.”

He scoffs. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

You grin, turning your head toward him—and you find him already looking at you, hand tucked comfortably under his head like he’s been watching this whole time.

And maybe he has.

His gaze drops briefly to your lips. You feel it like a touch.

“…You’re staring,” you whisper.

“So are you.”

You don’t deny it.

You can feel every inch of him now under the sheets—his warmth, the gentle slope of his arm resting behind you, the way your hips are angled toward each other. When you shift again, it’s slower this time, deliberate. Your thigh presses against his. This time, he shifts too—just a little, but enough that you can feel his knuckles graze your stomach as he adjusts the blankets.

It’s quiet again.

And then, slowly, his fingers curl around the edge of the comforter and pull it up higher, tucking it under your chin. It’s such a simple gesture, and somehow it makes your throat tighten.

“You’re still shivering,” he murmurs.

“I’m not cold.”

That earns a look. A longer one.

“You okay?” he asks, voice softer now. “You’re acting a little…”

“Feral?”

He huffs a laugh. “Was gonna say clingy.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“I don’t mind,” he says, and this time his hand doesn’t drift back under the covers. He lets it rest lightly on your waist, fingers splaying over the fabric of his shirt. “You’re cute when you’re like this.”

You don’t even try to stop the flutter in your chest.

“…You’re cute when you’re shirtless,” you mumble.

His grin is slow, knowing. “That’s just the wine talking.”

“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’. “That’s the me talking.”

Suguru lets out a breath, something between a sigh and a chuckle. You watch his lashes lower slightly, the way his fingers press just a little deeper into your waist.

You feel like your body is humming now—not just from the alcohol, but from the heat pooling low in your belly. From the way you keep shifting toward each other in increments, like two magnets drawn together by something you’re both still pretending isn’t real.

“You gonna hog the whole bed again?” he asks suddenly.

“I barely take up any space,” you protest, voice rising with indignation.

“You say that, but somehow you’re always on my side by morning.”

“Maybe your side’s warmer.”

“Maybe you just want to be closer to me.”

Your breath stutters.

You glance at him. He’s already watching you, head tilted, like he’s trying to decide whether or not to push. You can feel his thumb grazing lazy little circles into your side now, under the sheets.

“I mean,” you say, suddenly dry-mouthed, “if I was trying to be closer to you, you’d probably say something annoying.”

“Like what?”

“Like ‘oh, I knew you couldn’t resist me,’ or ‘took you long enough.’ Something smug.”

“Wouldn’t be wrong though,” he says with a smirk. “You are all over me right now.”

“You’re literally touching me.”

“I’m letting you.”

You swat his arm, but there’s no heat behind it—and instead of moving away, his hand curls tighter around your waist, tugging you that final inch until your bodies are flush. His bare chest brushes your arm. Your knees bump beneath the sheets. Your nose nearly grazes his collarbone when you shift.

Neither of you say anything.

Your eyes drift closed for a second. You can feel his breath now, slow and even. You should sleep. But sleep feels impossible with his hand on your waist, his skin on yours, the weight of the night still pressing into your pulse.

“Your heartbeat’s fast,” he murmurs.

You blink up at him. “You can feel it?”

He taps your side gently. “Right here.”

You feel warm all over now.

“Okay,” you whisper, trying to hide your smile. “Maybe I am all over you.”

“Yeah?” he hums, his lips almost brushing your temple now.

“…Do you mind?”

His pause is telling. His voice is low when it comes.

“Not even a little.”

His voice is soft. “You good?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. Just warm.”

“You’re flushed,” he smirks, shifting a little closer. “You got a fever, sweetheart?”

You scoff. “I’m just drunk.”

“Mm. You sure?”

His tone is low and teasing, but the look in his eyes is molten—melting through you slowly, steadily. He brushes you waist, fingers tracing small patterns. You don’t pull away.

“Your hands are cold,” you murmur, lips twitching into a half smile.

Suguru chuckles under his breath. “Want me to warm them up on you?”

Your breath hitches.

He’s joking. Probably. But the way his fingers graze over your hip when he says it—he’s testing something. Pushing, just a little. The pressure’s mounting like a held breath.

“I’m serious though,” he says, quieter now. “You’re… staring.”

You blink. “You’re in my face.”

“I’m in my bed.”

You don’t even know who leans in first—maybe it’s both of you. Just a fraction closer. Then another. There’s barely an inch between you now, but neither of you crosses it.

Your voice drops. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

Suguru’s eyes flash, like you’ve cracked something in him.

“Because you’ll never let me stop,” he murmurs.

And fuck if that doesn’t send something electric crawling up your spine.

Your hand moves—slow, instinctive—resting on his chest. His heartbeat is steady but strong under your palm. He watches you with something hot and fond and unbearably intense in his gaze.

“You wouldn’t want to stop,” you whisper.

There’s a long pause. Then a soft, amused sigh from him. “You’re probably right.”

Still, no kiss. But now you’re tangled, legs brushing, the space between your faces charged. His hand is on your waist now, thumb stroking gently over the soft fabric of his shirt that you’re still wearing.

“You know I can’t sleep now, right?” you mutter.

“Yeah?” he smirks. “Too worked up?”

“Maybe.”

He leans in then—not for your mouth, but for your neck. His lips graze just beneath your jaw, and you feel him smile when your breath catches.

“You’re dangerous when you’re like this,” he murmurs. “All soft and needy in my bed.”

“I’m always like this,” you shoot back, but your voice wavers.

“Mm. Not like this.”

His hand tightens on your waist just slightly. “You know I’ve thought about this, right?”

Your breath stutters. “You have?”

“Of course I have. You’re in my bed, wearing my clothes, looking like that.” He lets his fingers trail slowly up your bare thigh beneath the hem of the shirt. “You think I’m made of stone?”

There’s a silence. Then, your hand moves—finding his, guiding it higher, where you’ve been burning all night.

Suguru groans under his breath.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You’ve definitely got a fever.”

You both break into laughter, soft and breathless, but the shift has happened now. His forehead leans into yours, his hand doesn’t move. The air between you is scorching.

“You sure?” he asks, low and rough. “Because if we start, I’m not stopping until you’re shaking.”

You meet his gaze head-on, lips parted.

“I don’t want you to stop.”

There’s a second—just one—where Suguru’s eyes flicker.

Then he’s on you.

It’s not gentle. It’s not slow. His mouth crashes against yours, hot and unrelenting, like you’ve finally given him permission to lose control. And you have. You want him to.

Your back hits the mattress as he rolls over you, one large hand cupping your cheek, the other already sliding beneath his shirt hanging off your body. You arch into him instinctively, breath ragged, clutching at his shoulders, desperate for more.

“Fucking knew it,” he growls against your lips. “Knew you’d taste like this—feel like this.”

“Suguru—”

He groans like his name on your lips is gasoline. “Say it again.”

“Suguru—please—”

He kisses you harder, then trails down to your jaw, your throat, sucking bruises into your skin like he wants to mark you everywhere. You can feel him—hard, aching—pressed against your thigh, and the desperation makes your head spin.

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me tonight,” he mutters, breath hot on your collarbone. “Walking around in my shirt. Touching me. Looking at me like that.”

You whimper when he finally yanks the shirt up and off you, tossing it somewhere behind him.

He stares.

“Fuck. Look at you.”

Your body, flushed and soft, still smells like wine and something sweeter—something like want.

“I’ve waited so long,” he murmurs, eyes burning. “And you’ve been in my bed this whole damn time.”

“Then do something about it,” you breathe.

His mouth crashes against yours again—and this time, there’s no coming back.

His hands are on you everywhere at once: cupping your breasts, sliding down your waist, spreading your thighs like he owns them. When his fingers find how wet you already are, he hisses.

“Shit, baby—” he laughs, dark and low. “Were you like this all night?”

You nod, dizzy, shameless.

“Jesus. All warm and dripping for me while we were joking around like nothing?” His fingers circle your clit slowly, deliberately. “That’s evil, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you gasp, hips twitching.

He kisses your cheek, your jaw, your shoulder.

“I know, baby,” he coos. “I know you need it.”

You gasp.

He groans, low and dark. “Fuck. You’re dripping, sweetheart. All this for me?”

You nod again, helpless. Your hips roll against his touch, chasing it, needy beyond belief.

He leans closer, his mouth brushing the shell of your ear.

“I’ve been so fucking patient,” he murmurs. “Watching you crawl into my bed like this. Trying so hard not to stare when you took your clothes off. And now…”

His fingers slide between your folds, slow and torturous, parting you so perfectly.

“…now you’re letting me touch you like this?”

You whimper when he finally slips one finger inside. Then another.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he breathes, his forehead pressing to yours. “God, you feel unreal.”

He moves them slow—too slow—curling just right, stroking you from the inside while his thumb finds your clit again. His rhythm is precise, practiced, mean.

“Look at you,” he mutters, watching your eyes flutter. “Fucking melting. You like this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you pant, voice trembling.

“Yeah, I know. I can feel you.” He kisses your cheek, your jaw. “So tight around my fingers already.”

Your legs are shaking. Every muscle in your body is straining for more, chasing that high, and he knows it.

“You gonna come for me?” he murmurs, his tone gentling for a beat. “Gonna come on my fingers like a good girl?”

Your breath stutters.

“Go ahead,” he coaxes, dragging his thumb in tighter, slicker circles. “I’ve got you, baby. Been wanting this all night.”

It builds too fast. You try to hold on, but his voice—his touch—him—it’s too much.

You come with a strangled cry, body arching against his chest as your climax crashes down, messy and overwhelming and utterly euphoric. He doesn’t stop until you’re trembling in his arms, half-limp, breathless.

Suguru kisses the top of your head, fingers still lazy inside you.

“There she is,” he whispers. “Knew you’d come undone for me.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, flushed and wrecked, and he just holds you there, the room warm and quiet except for the sound of your breathing.

And the tension?

Still far from over.

His fingers slip out of you with a wet sound, and you whimper at the loss, legs still twitching, thighs sticky with slick.

Suguru’s breathing heavier now, chest rising and falling as he stares down at you like he’s trying to decide whether to devour you slowly or tear you apart. But his self-control is fraying—you can see it. The hunger in his eyes is sharper now, wilder, and that teasing little smirk he’s worn all night? Gone.

Replaced by something darker.

“You don’t even know,” he mutters, almost to himself, “what you do to me.”

And then he’s on you.

His mouth crashes to yours, tongue greedy, kiss messier than any before. All teeth and heat and need. You can feel his cock pressing against you and it only makes you moan louder, wrapping your arms around his shoulders like you’re scared he might stop.

But he’s not stopping.

He’s between your thighs in seconds, shoving the shirt you stole from him up to your ribs, not even bothering to pull your panties off properly—just pushing them aside, rough and hasty.

“Need you,” he growls, voice ragged against your throat. “Fuck, I need you.”

“I’ll give you everything,” he murmurs, eyes locked to yours. “But you better look at me when I fuck you.”

And you do

His cock presses against you, thick and hot and leaking. You can feel the head nudging at your entrance, and you’re still so wet, still so sensitive—your whole body tensing in anticipation.

“Suguru,” you gasp, voice breathless and desperate, nails digging into his back. “Please—please—”

“I know, baby. I know.” He reaches down to guide himself in, groaning deep in his chest as he pushes the tip in. “You’re so fucking ready for me, aren’t you?”

You nod frantically, hips tilting up, your mouth falling open as he finally—finally—sinks into you.

Slow at first. Deep.

You both moan at the contact—his composure unraveling as he bottoms out, your walls fluttering around him like they’re trying to keep him there.

“Holy shit,” he hisses, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re perfect. So fucking tight—feels like you’re dragging me in.”

You can barely speak. Every inch of him fills you, stretches you. And still, he’s not moving.

You whimper, rolling your hips to get something, but he just growls, grabbing your waist and pinning you down.

“Don’t,” he warns. “You do that again and I’m gonna lose it.”

“Suguru, please,” you beg, breath hot against his lips. “Fuck me—I need it, I need you—”

That’s what breaks him.

He pulls back and slams into you hard, making the bed creak beneath you. You gasp, clutching at him as he starts to thrust in deep, punishing strokes, the slick sound of skin on skin filling the room.

“You want this?” he pants, fucking into you harder. “You like me fucking you stupid, huh?”

“Yes—yes—”

He growls again, leaning down to kiss your neck, biting at your collarbone.

“You’ve been teasing me all fucking night,” he snarls, voice rough. “Walking around my room in my shirt, looking at me like that—acting all innocent—”

“I wasn’t—!”

He cuts you off with a sharp thrust that makes your whole body jolt.

“You were. You knew exactly what you were doing.” His voice is a growl now, pure want. “Now look at you. Taking it so well.”

You’re moaning uncontrollably now, legs wrapped tight around his waist, trying to keep him in you.

“Feels so good,” you cry, “you feel so good—”

“I know, pretty girl,” he pants, his pace faltering slightly. “Fuck—you’re milking my cock.”

He’s close. You can feel it. And you’re right there too—your nerves still strung tight from the first orgasm, your clit throbbing with every thrust.

“Touch yourself,” he orders suddenly, grabbing your thigh and pressing it back. “Play with that little pussy while I fuck you. I want you to come on my cock.”

You obey instantly, fingers flying to your clit, rubbing fast messy circles just the way he likes.

“That’s it,” he groans, fucking into you harder now. “Let go for me, baby. Come all over me. Show me how bad you wanted this.”

It takes seconds.

You scream his name as you fall apart, body shaking beneath him, vision going white. Your pussy clenches so tight he chokes on a groan, and then he’s coming too—deep inside you, hips jerking, holding you down as he spills into you with a broken moan.

He collapses over you, both of you slick with sweat, panting like you’ve run a marathon.

And for a moment, the room is silent—just the two of you tangled up in each other, hearts pounding.

He presses a kiss to your cheek, then murmurs against your skin:

“You’re never sleeping in my bed again.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x you #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #suguru x you #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto smut #suguru smut #geto suguru #geto x y/n #geto smut #jujutsu geto #geto x reader

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loganficsonly · 28 days ago

Note

hello!!! hope you're have a great day so far!! I was wondering if could you write something with Logan and an easily flustered! reader?? like they get bashful when he does anything sweet and super embarrassed when he's being flirty or touchy with them?? maybe they're a little insecure that he might still have feelings for Jean or think that he could do way better??

thank you for writing in! this is super cute but i think i ended up writing something so fucking debauched, i'm so sorry. this is just straight up porn lmao

i hope you don't mind me taking jean out of the equation too!

first time writing patch!logan >:)

beneath the mask

patch!logan x f!reader, 3.4k WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI please this is nothing but filthy smut!!!, flirting?, patch is a warning, reader has hair and is able-bodied, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), piv, riding, unprotected sex (please be responsible), pet names, not proofread or edited AUTHOR'S NOTE: writing sexy shit is hard eh. anyway, reader is a singer who looks like she can eat a man up and picks her teeth with his bones but is actually super easily flustered. i think i lost the plot towards the end but at least reader and logan get to bang!

Cherry lips croon from behind the silver microphone. Each syllable forms like the slow drip of nectar, lush and perfect and full of promises for those in the audience who have a thirst to quench.

And indeed one could say you’re a tall glass of water, standing on the stage with your hair framing your face like a painting, delicate nails stroking the mic. But with that deep red dress that shines every time you move under the light, it would be more accurate to call you a tall glass of Madripoor’s finest wine.

Coveted. Delicious. Expensive.

The spotlights are blinding, reducing the faces staring up at you into shadowed outlines.

That’s good. Between that darkness and the buzz of a warm drink you had just before the start of your set, nervousness has no place here.

You feel a curl of a smile on your lips. Melancholy melodies from the piano resound beneath your voice. The plucks of a double bass from the back of the stage, in time with soft shuffles of a drum set. The music is slow and languid, and you feel yourself sinking into it as you sing.

There was a boy

A very strange enchanted boy

They said he wandered very far

Very far

Over land and sea…

A figure in white cuts through the bar. There’s no need for words—a drink is placed in front of him swiftly, the caramel-colored liquid refracting in the light, ice clinking against the chilled glass. He sits, facing towards the stage.

One eye trained on you.

Business held him up more than he’d like. He settles down after a burning sip of whiskey, sufficiently satisfied with how he dealt with the problems that caused him to be late for this.

He’d call it a win-win situation. They paid the price. His suit remains crisp, unsullied. You are still singing. Your last song, evidently—Nature Boy is always your closer—but at least he got to hear you and that beautiful voice.

A little shy and sad of eye

But very wise was he

From behind the rim of his glass, he drinks in your figure.

Stunning. The dress betrays your curves, hugging them like second skin. He sees the sinful slit on the side of your thigh, only visible when you move enough. Your hair is down tonight, he notices—a different impression compared to that of your usual updo. Relaxed. Free. No doubt inviting visions of what you would look like with your head on a pillow, hair splayed as you sigh a sultrier tune…

You look like you were destined to doom good men.

Lucky for him, he isn’t a good man.

And then one day

One magic day he passed my way

And we spoke of many things

Fools and kings

This he said to me

Something pulls your eye to the bar, the only illuminated spot in the crowd.

He’s here.

There’s a subtle shiver—your skin reacting to the sight of him. White suit, black bowtie. Always the same colors, always here, watching. The many stares you earn from others don’t stand a chance to the smolder of his single eye. Unlike the rest, you can’t tell what’s on his mind. Maybe that’s why his presence at poker tables is considered a curse.

You thought he wouldn’t show, seeing as he missed almost the entirety of your set. But now that he’s fifty feet away, strong hand wrapped around a glass, you find butterflies in your stomach.

Your eyes meet.

The greatest thing

You’ll ever learn

Is just to love

And be loved in return

A thunderous applause and fifteen minutes later, he finds you on the other end of the bar, surrounded by admirers. They stand a little too close for his liking, but it’s almost part of your job to smile and laugh at them.

He watches as your fingers move up to fix a gentleman’s tie, half-lidded eyes focused on your task. The man tenses in a way that looks all too familiar. You move smoothly to hug an older woman, lips puckered for an air kiss on her cheek. There’s a hand on your jaw, thumb stroking affectionately, and you lean in, basking in the attention.

A hand on your arm. Fingers brushing against yours as they hand you your drink. And eyes, god, eyes that roam over you, barely veiling the wicked thoughts behind them.

You merely give them a small smile. The kind that tells them you know, and that you like it.

If he weren’t any better, he’d be seething, but really he’s the same as they are. Hungry for a drop of you.

But he isn’t angry, or jealous. Can’t be. Not when you catch his eye and cordially murmur your thanks and ‘excuse me’s before parting the crowd, moving towards his seat at the end of the bar.

Of course, knowing who he is, they don’t pursue you.

He stands as you arrive in front of him, eye locked on yours while he brings your knuckles up to his lips. He notices your painted nails, elegant and manicured to resemble little claws that remind him of cats. He smiles.

The brush on your skin feels innocent, but the shudder you try to suppress is anything but.

“You look beautiful as always.”

Maybe it’s your proclivity for music that makes you so sensitive to his voice. It’s deep and rumbly, awakening a longing for you to place your hand on his chest to feel it.

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” you reply back softly. He places a hand on your lower back, guiding you to walk with him, likely to one of the private lounges he has access to. Your stride is in time with his as you walk side by side into the velvet-covered hallway.

You can see a slight quirk on his lips, ornamental sconces bathing dim light on his handsome face as he murmurs words only for you to hear.

“How could I ever miss your show, honey?”

It’s always like this with Patch.

A big bouquet of red roses, as if you just made your debut when you’ve in fact done this a hundred times over. They’re placed in a nice vase before he pampers you with the kind of dinner you used to have once every year for a birthday celebration. The conversation that ensues with him is quiet but easy, despite each word hanging heavily with the hidden prospect for more.

Before he leaves, he’d ask you to drink with him. A small amount of something heavy and chilled. Keeping him company. So far you’ve never denied his request—not because you’re intimidated, but because you’re interested.

Tonight is no different, except the two of you are standing, and he’s so close.

He’s as striking as a portrait, white suit cutting a clear silhouette against the dark mahogany walls of the room. Low lights and a thick door grant a sense of isolation while you’re, in fact, still in a public place. He has a hand on your cheek, thumb stroking your skin, and you know the heat that gathers under his touch is not because of the alcohol.

“You know I’m a patient man, don’t you, honey?” he rasps, hungry eyes taking in your face. God, you’re even more perfect up close.

He feels you nod, the gesture a little timid. Something in his chest blooms at the look in your eyes—when it was steady before, cool under the hot spotlights, he can feel a slight change swirling in it. It’s been there, brewing since he closes the door to this room. Blooming when he pays all of his attention to you while you eat.

Nervous. Just from being with him.

He takes a step forward, slowly cornering you into the wall. Your eyes widen slightly as you look up at him. He sees you swallow, breath hitched, a hand on his chest ready to push him away.

When you don’t, his blood sings.

“Patch—”

“It’s just us, sweet thing,” he purrs, correcting you. You exhale a little shakily.

“...Logan.”

He hums, pleased at the sound of your voice calling his name. What he’d do to make you sing it louder, like you’re begging for him—he’s had plenty of dreams where you haunt him with just your voice, cooing, coaxing him to unravel you, to take you—

“Not sure I can be so patient anymore,” he says, his body brushing against yours. A hand rests on your waist, pulling you close. The other that’s on your cheek slides down to your jaw before nestling at the back of your neck, craning your head so you’re looking directly up at him.

“What do you mean?” you whisper, staring at his chin instead. If you looked into his eyes right now, you’d wither.

Lips press against your ear. The touch is undemanding, but firm, warm breath eliciting a gasp from you. Your hand on his chest catches him tensing at the sound.

“Means I want you. Now,” he answers, voice low. His hand on your waist slides down to your hip, tugging you until your breath stops—he’s hard. Your chest heaves.

Pulling away, he looks at you. You wonder what you look like. You feel feverish.

“Will you let me have you?”

A warm, calloused hand slips onto your naked thigh through the slit of your dress, and your knees are so close to buckling. Heels knock into the wall behind you, but there’s nowhere to run.

…do you even want to?

Madripoor is filth dressed up as a gemstone. The city’s deceitfulness is something Logan is accustomed to. He has seen and studied all the ways people lie.

Except for yours. The moment he takes you to the penthouse of the hotel, kissing you senseless against the locked door before carrying you to the bedroom, he feels it. The unraveling of your own brand of trickery.

Senses it through the way you slot your lips against his, how your hands glide softly down his back. He’s been with enough women to know exactly how different you are just by having you like this, under him on his bed while his mouth devours yours.

When he pulls away, he doesn’t see the woman on stage. There’s no surety in your half-lidded eyes, already glazed with desire, and certainly not in the way they avoid his own gaze, looking away over his shoulder.

Hazel eye rakes down your body. Your dress rides up, slit revealing your leg in its entirety. The cowl neck of your outfit reveals a hint of your breasts as you heave with each labored breath.

You are a seductress, just not the kind people think you are.

While you put on your mask, you feed their imaginations with easy smiles and affectionate touches. The picture-perfect illusion of a siren, dangerously alluring.

That same person is crumbling underneath him only after a few deep kisses. Averting your gaze, eyelids fluttering. Blushing.

It drives him wild.

His mouth waters as he hovers above you, still dressed. An animal wearing human clothes. His deception. He uses his hand, directing your gaze at him, smirking at the lost look on your face.

“So fucking pretty for me.”

A palm presses against your breast, lips latching onto your neck as he gets you out of the dress. As gorgeous as you look with it on, he needs to see you bare. He is slow with it, letting the straps fall first, marking the skin of your shoulders, preening as he feels your hands on his back guiding him close.

Then Logan tugs the silky fabric down, revealing your breasts. You move your arms to cover it. He doesn’t let you, grabbing them and pinning your wrists with one hand to keep you still.

“Don’t stare,” you whisper, twisting your body away from him, but that only makes you look more delicious, tits bouncing.

“Oh, honey,” he hums. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you try to shrink.

Makes him want to ruin you even more.

“I’d do whatever you ask me to, but that’s just impossible.”

He leans down, tongue lapping up a hardened peak before he uses his free hand to grab your flesh and sucks. You cry out, writhing beneath him, looking like you’re close to tears. Pleasure floods his veins, making him impatient. Where he was restrained before, he’s all relentless lust now—teeth, tongue, and lips working together to coax more of those gorgeous sounds out of you. He moves to your other breast. God, your moans…

“Logan,” you cry out, and he just about loses it.

“Fuck, you sing amazing, but that sounds even better,” he laughs, letting go of your hands so he can provoke you with both of his. The sight of your tits under his palms, slick with the attention he’s given you, nipples hard… Logan wonders whether this is a special type of heaven.

“Give me more, baby.”

You find yourself doing as you’re told, all kinds of lewd noises escaping your lips. He makes you, playing your body like some kind of instrument he’s long mastered, despite having you for the first time. When the dress comes off you entirely, you squeeze your thighs together, vaguely aware of the sopping mess that’s coalesced in your center.

Logan’s hand parts you, growling.

“No hiding.” He yanks the side of your underwear down, slipping it down your legs before tossing it. Where it lands, he couldn’t care less.

He smells you before he sees you, and his cock twitches. His good eye focuses on the glisten at the apex of your thighs, visible even in the dim light of the bedroom.

“She’s so wet already, honey,” he smiles, zeroing in at your pussy as two fingers come up to play with your folds. You arch your back, groaning. “Just from playing with your tits?”

“A-ah…”

Your thighs clamp together, but his other hand interferes just as quickly, gripping your knee to keep you spread. Fuck, he’s still fully dressed—

“So it’s all just an act? The sensual songstress,” he breathes heavily, slipping his middle finger in, watching you writhe at the sensation. He almost laughs, not out of humor, but from the way your walls clench onto his digit like you don’t want him to ever leave. “Soaked for me—”

“No, it’s not—”

“When was the last time you had a man, then, honey?” he grits, his middle finger all the way inside of you. His cock strains underneath the tent in his pants, eager to have you.

“I d-don’t remember,” you reply, your voice thin and airy.

Ideas flood his head then and there. All the ways he can make you feel good, how loud he can make you scream for him, how he’ll change you, make you want more, make you greedy—

“You’ll remember me after we’re done,” he rumbles, sliding down until your legs bracket his shoulders, head between them.

When his tongue slides up your cunt, you part your lips in a silent scream, before whines slip past your throat. He’s almost conceited in the way he eats you out, so sure, and he’s not wrong to be. Lips tease and kiss until you’re certain your lungs are short on air, all while his finger stretches your insides, reaching a part so deep you’re sure it hasn’t been touched in a long time.

Then one finger becomes two and they pump, slick sounds of your leaking cunt echoing in the room. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging needily. He moans against you, vibrations racking your body with goosebumps.

As he closes his mouth around your clit, fingers ruining you, you sob his name, cum soaking his digits.

That’s only the first one.

Logan sinks his fingers into your pussy, two fingers scissoring you. He hovers over you, mouth against your ear saying all kinds of obscenities while he stretches you in preparation for the real thing.

“Pussy so tight, baby, relax for me,” he growls, feeling you drench his fingers. The slapping sounds of his hand against you grow louder. You moan as he curls inside of you, hitting a spot that makes your vision blur. “Wanna make sure my dick fits inside her, yeah?”

“Fuck,” you cry weakly. He grins.

“It’s just my fingers, honey. My cock’s going to fucking ruin you, I know it. Gonna make you feel so fucking good, you won’t even look at any other guy. That right?”

Your response is an unintelligible mewl. A familiar wave crests, the knot at the bottom of your gut tightening.

“Come on, pretty girl, cum for me.”

How on earth he does it, you’re not sure. Your body obeys his command as if he has some kind of control over it, spine arching high as your hips sway, greedy for his digits, and when his thumb flicks that bundle of nerves you collapse. There’s a long drawn-out moan of his name as you spasm and shake, music to his ears.

He doesn’t waste time entering you, jacket shed, pants hanging low on his thighs—far too desperate at this point. Soon, you’re leaking all over his cock. His hand gently directs your gaze to where your bodies join, holding your chin as he feeds you his inches.

“Fuck, honey, look at that. Taking me so well.”

He moves.

A common sense of decency, the songs you sang in the set earlier, the taste of the drink he poured you—all of these things are forgotten, your mind a clean slate with each thrust of his length inside you. The way he moves is designed to make you fall apart quickly, relieving the ache in your core while making you want more, and you feel that sensation build within you again. Hands grip his biceps as you pant, eyelids fluttering up at him, drinking his expression while he spews filth at you.

“Feels so good, baby, you’re so fucking hot.” His hips snap, a squelching sound between your legs. “Hear that? So wet for me. Want more?”

You mewl a ‘yes, Logan, please’ and he grins in delight, a renewed vigor in his already ruthless pace.

“God, fuck, you’re so tight. Gonna cum on my cock?”

Nodding, you bury your face in his neck, letting out little gasps every time he sinks into you. You feel so full, like he’s all the way in your stomach—

“Tell me. Use your words, baby.”

“I-I’m so close, Logan,” you cry.

“That’s right, let go, sweet thing, let me take care of you.”

The third time your orgasm hits, you’re hit by the reality of everything, your senses honing in to register only him. The way his length drags your walls—fuck, he hasn’t stopped—, his breath on your temple, the rumble of his voice as he praises you—“good girl, doing so good,”—the world stops.

It’s just you, him, and how good it feels.

As the last waves of release begin to simmer down your limbs, electrifying your legs and fingertips, you pant, catching your breath. A gentle hand cups the fat of your cheek. You open your eyes.

Logan looks down at you, studying your utterly ruined countenance. Lips parted, cheeks burning, hair messily splayed on his pillow—the same way he imagined it would when he saw you sing just an hour ago.

That expensive lipstick hasn’t budged, though. He already knows one way he wants to ruin it.

The world spins and you let out a surprised noise as Logan flips the two of you, him on the bed and you sitting on his abs. You whine, feeling the slick smearing his shirt. He all but rips the fabric down the center, yanking it off his skin like it offended him, revealing his bare and hairy chest to you.

Hands are on your hips now, positioning you on top of his length. Your eyes widen. He’s still hard.

Once again, his cock sinks into your heat, and you melt on top of him, hands bracing on his chest, head tilted back.

“Oh my god—”

“Didn’t think I was done with you, huh, honey?” he groans, bottoming out, hand pressing on your stomach. Then his eye snaps up at you, pleased at the hazy look on your face.

“Come on, ride. Gonna fuck the shyness outta you.”

#logan x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #x men #logan howlett #wolverine x you #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut

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zyafics · 1 year ago

Note

i love love love your writing<3

rq: rafe had came up to tanneyhill's balcony for some peace at his own party. though he didn’t expect reader to be there, looking utterly lost. he knows reader is new. seen you before, too, hanging out with sarah’s crowd; under a pogue’s arm whenever they see him around, telling you rafe isn't anything worth talking, or interacting with.

first off, i am so sorry it took me so long to get this done (as with a lot of my requests) but thank you so much for enjoying my writing!! 🩷 i hope i do this prompt justice (literally shaking in my boots as i post this 😭)

ANGRY GOD | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — S2!Rafe Cameron x (F)Reader

Content — fluff, angst, Rafe spiraling (S2 Canons), Enemies Tension, Rafe growing possessive of Reader.

Word Count — 3.2K.

Dedication — to @mintforadollar who listened to me rant about this plot a month ago, only for it to now be completed <3. Prompt credited to this on c.ai!

Rafe wants to be alone.

His mind is caught in a tailspin, muscles singing with ache from his latest altercation. It didn't help that the fucker managed to get some good swings in, ripples of pain spread from his jawline to his left eye. When he enters the second floor of Tannyhill, all he wants is to catch a breath of fresh air away from the party. His party.

He didn't expect to see you.

"Out." Rafe commands gruffly. You flinch at his abrupt command. "Second floor is off-limits."

He adds nothing else as he marches over to the edge of the balcony, digging his scraped palms into the smooth ridges of the handrails. He didn't want anyone here to witness the brunt of his frustration and disappointment, or how his mind swims with disoriented and incoherent thoughts. He wants to be alone.

But you won't let him.

Cautiously, you take a step forward—not in the direction of the exit, as he hoped—but towards Rafe instead. Lifting his head at the sound of your faint footsteps, agitation flushing through his expression at your proximity. "Didn't I tell you to get out?"

"You got into a fight." You mumble your observation, examining his hardened profile to discover the bruise that decorates his jawline, swelling with discoloration, the darkening under his left eye, and the split of open skin right above his brow.

He scoffs. "No shit."

"And you're bleeding."

He is? He didn't know that. All consumed by the adrenaline rushing through his system—that has yet to wind down—Rafe lifts his hand to run his fingers over the most prominent aches around his face. When he presses against something wet, he withdraws, finding a fresh coat of blood over his fingertips.

Rafe grimaces at the sight—not the blood, he's used to that—but the fact that his opponent succeeded in cutting him too.

Now, he definitely doesn't want you here. Before Rafe has the chance to kick you out the third time, you offer assistance. "I can help," you say meekly, messing with the hems of your top.

He didn't catch it over the loud thumping of his heartbeat in his ears. "What?"

"I can help," you repeat, louder this time, wincing at the projection of your own voice. You don't like the strain in your tone, the desperation seeping through. You'd do anything to avoid returning to the party. "I know how to patch up wounds. I'm training to be an EMT."

"I didn't ask for a life story." He snaps, a mechanical response to any aid. The idea of someone taking care of him is unheard of; unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He doesn't know how to react other than complete and utter rejection. "Besides, I can take care of myself."

Rafe assumes his harsh words would drive you away. The bite behind each syllable has been enough to scare off everyone else but you remain firm in your position. If anything, your expression softens, eyes washing over his rigid posture with a sympathetic look. He hates it.

"I know," you start slowly, eyes cascading down his face, carefully monitoring his reaction. "But... wouldn't it be nice if you didn't have to?"

His expression breaks.

Your kindness strikes directly to his chest and his heart clutches at the way you address him. With humanity. Even when he's been nothing but a complete asshole to you, demanding your departure, you respond with a sense of warmth. Rafe clenches down his jaw.

When he doesn't answer quickly enough, a sign of his contemplation, you add. "Please."

Reluctantly, Rafe gives in. "Fine."

Rafe moves from the balcony deck to reenter Tannyhill, not bothering to check if you're following behind. He heads straight to the ensuite connected to his bedroom, checking under the sink for his first aid kit, before throwing the box over the counter.

That's when he catches a glimpse of himself through the mirror, the ugly bruising that lines his face, the dried blood that stains his temple. His jaw tightens at the sight.

You enter shortly after, seeing him with his back to the mirror, his spine pressed against the rim of the porcelain sink. Your eyes do a quick sweep of your surroundings, before landing on Rafe and his rigid form, arms crossed over his chest, and a cold look on his face. He just wants to get this over with.

You glance outside, to his room, with its openness, before meeting his gaze. "Can we go to your bed?"

His answer is immediate. "No."

You frown but ask nothing more. Rafe's trying to make this difficult for you, refusing to cooperate because it's easier than submitting to your grace. Easier than admitting he'd like the help. You work around that.

Grabbing the antiseptics from the kit, you proceed to clean his wounds, softly massaging his flesh in the process. For a moment, it feels too good and Rafe fights the urge to lean into your hand before a sharp pain rips through him from the open cut and he hisses.

You immediately pull back, mumbling a quick apology.

His eyes squeeze shut, it takes a moment for the throb to cool down, and once it does, Rafe reconnects his gaze with yours to find the remorseful look behind your stare, the softening of your features met with utmost concern. You don't make another move to try again.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." He bites out, wanting to rid you of that look. He's not weak. Stop looking at him as if he is. Despite the reassurance, you have yet to continue. "You're not going to be a good doctor if you shy away every time your patient gets hurt."

"I feel bad." You admit, chewing on your bottom lip.

"Why? You didn't do this."

He's the one who got into the fight. The one who swung first. While he may have won in the end, having knocked out the guy in the middle of the yard, it doesn't neglect the damage done to him in the process. But, at the end of the day, it's his fault.

You don't see it that way. "Because you're hurting."

You're too soft. That's what Rafe determines. Every little moment, little sprouts of empathy, every inch of sensitivity, is going to hurt you in the end. It won't save anything.

"I don't need your pity," Rafe snaps, giving you the first taste of reality under his razor-sharp tongue. He could be considerate, and understanding, but he isn't. That's how he learned.

"It's not—" You sigh. You don't want to argue and relent against his jabs. Without further commentary, you continue forward with your duties: aiding in his treatment and biting through the humane urge to sympathize with his pain.

Rafe takes the silence to observe you while you work. He knows you grew quiet because of his rough manners, and he won't lie to himself and say he enjoys it. He doesn't. But it adds to the list of everything else he has done wrong in his life; his long string of failures that his father can't wait to remind him of.

In the quietness, Rafe recognizes something about you. It takes a moment, after all the aches and throbs, but the recognition dawns on him that you're new. You hang out with his sister, Sarah, and the rest of the filthy group of no-good Pogues on the other side of the island. There have even been occasions when he saw you under JJ's arm, slinging around red solo cups and a grim soak of southside.

"Where's your friends?" Rafe asks, surprising you with the roughness behind his voice.

You lift your gaze to his. "Hmm?"

"The Pogues. Don't you hang out with them?"

You swallow hard, feeling like a child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You hoped your newcomer status would be enough to shield yourself from Rafe's wraith, especially his hatred towards your selected group. "Why?"

Rafe immediately picks up on the shift in your demeanor, the rigidness in your shoulders that tells him exactly what he needs to know. "You've heard about me, haven't you?"

You hesitate to answer. Rafe presses on. "What'd they say?"

Your friends have told you many warnings about the notorious Rafe Cameron. It all comes down to one conclusion: he's dangerous. He's irrational, self-centered, and narcissistic. He isn't worth talking to because all he cares about is himself.

However, you like to find out for yourself.

Rafe leans forward, lowering himself to meet your height and his face is right in front of yours. An arrogant smirk rises to his lips, a challenge for you to answer. "Come on, princess, don't tell you came up here without doing a bit of research beforehand."

You recognize this as a facade, a way for him to hide his true feelings because it's easier to disturb others. To mess with people and not reflect on your own. You place a hand against the solid of his chest and gently push him back, forcing him to reinstate the safe distance established before. You continue back to your line of work.

Your little push surprises Rafe. It also intrigues him too.

"They said you weren't worth talking to," you say softly, avoiding eye contact as he follows your every move. "That you're dangerous."

He scoffs at the reveal, but it pinches his heart that his own sister would agree. He values her opinion more than he'd like to admit. Drawing out a noncommital shrug, pretending not to care, he declares. "They're right."

You hum. "Maybe."

He looks directly at you with a raised brow. "Maybe?"

Your eyes finally connect with his, "I'm still figuring that out." You pull back, setting the supplies back into his aid box. "Done."

You're about to take a step back when Rafe grabs your wrist, holding you in place. Your breath shortens, and you peer down at the place of your contact before raising your gaze to his.

"What do you mean by that?" He demands, his expression hardens but his eyes are pleading. That juxtaposition, between who he is and what he wants, is the exact thing you're trying to uncover.

You aren't afraid of him. Not like the others.

"I don't know," you answer truthfully, sweeping over his face, reading the conflict his features can't seem to contain. Rafe, you're slowly unraveling, is someone who puts his heart on his sleeves. He just hasn't had anyone who cares enough to look for it. "I just don't know if I truly believe that."

"Why not? The rest of the island does."

It's almost a spiral. An edge closer to it. You think it's because Rafe finally has someone who looks past his mask, his deception that the rest of the island gladly takes. They're afraid of him; he engineered that reputation by hand. But you've met your fair share of burnt souls to know they're all worth saving.

You answer him.

"Your eyes." You explain gently. "They say it's the windows to someone's soul."

"And?"

"And, Rafe Cameron, you're someone who isn't as heartless as you'd like the rest of the world to believe."

His grip loosens from your words and you take the opportunity to slip out of his grasp and settle your arms by your side. Rafe watches as you offer him a soft smile, one that reaches your eyes, and you're about to return to the balcony deck for some peace when he follows you into his bedroom.

"That's not fair." He denounces, halting your exit.

You turn around to face him. "What is?"

"You can't come in here and make those assumptions. You don't know shit about my life."

Rafe doesn't like to be read so clearly; to know that whatever he's trying to front isn't deluding you. For some reason, he needs to convince you that every rumor and gossip is true. That he is bad. The idea of it is embedded so deeply into the crevices of his self-worth, that he's having a hard time believing anything else.

Rafe expects your reaction to meet his fury, but the slope of your brows furrow together calmly. A delicate practice over years of training. "I never said I did."

"You're acting like you do."

You frown. "Now you're making assumptions about me," you refute, pointing out his hypocrisy, and a tinge of sharpness slips through. "You asked and I answered. You can't be mad because you don't like them."

"Then why?" He snaps, irritation spewing with his venom. "Who the fuck are you to make that judgment?"

"I thought you didn't want to hear my life story."

He huffs. Rafe finds himself at a crossroads. While you're standing there, with your collected composure, he feels like he's unraveling by the seams. There's something about you. The way you read through him like glass. He doesn't know if he likes it or not. If he needs it or not.

"Bitch," he mutters under his breath at your lack of compliance, and your breath hitches at the term, a flash of anger goes through you like a surge. He recognized that look; it was something he was all too familiar with.

You turn around, about to sprint for the exit once again when Rafe calls out. "Wait."

You don't want to turn around this time. Rafe had managed to make you break through your own facade, your own composure that you spent years trying to cultivate. Something about being in the same room as the eldest Cameron makes you regress into your formative years.

"Turn around."

Your jaw is slighted, but you try to hold it together. You loosen your features before you turn on your heel. You still don't think Rafe is the person he's trying to present to the world, and you doubt that he truly carries that much cruelty in one body, but that doesn't mean you have to be in the same room as him.

But something made you stay.

Rafe crosses the large space, standing just in front of you. His breath is hot against yours, his eyes sharp. You tilt your head, meeting his stare, but to contrast his intensity, your gaze is soft yet firm, your eyes unwavering. Just because you are kinder than he is doesn't mean you are weak.

"You know what it's like, don't you?" He murmurs gruffly, his voice straining at the exposure. This questioning also carries the weight of admission underneath; to bridge a kinship. "Or are you a liar?"

You're not. But no one's ever asked the questions Rafe is asking either. Not your friends back home or the new ones with the Pogues. They treasure your friendship but they don't understand your depth.

"No."

"No, what?"

"I'm not a liar," you bite out. Rafe's mouth curls into a satisfactory smile, and he gets a glimpse of your real character. The true you underneath all that dignity. It's like his own dirty secret. "I know."

You saw through Rafe because you understood him. You shared the same sentiments. You groomed the same callousness. Every act he performs, you went through first. You can't point at his reflection without looking at the mirror yourself.

But you're a bit different. You learn to control it. You discovered that all that anger was something else. Hurt, pain, injustice. You take it all and put it in a box, caged behind thick chains and hard locks. Never to be touched again. Rafe takes it out to the open, free to play. You may come from the same origin but you take two different routes.

However, Rafe sees you much clearer now. To know you can understand him, see through his perspective, and filter out his incoherent thoughts. That's something he'd never experienced before in his life.

"The voices, anger, and impulses?" His voice shrinks, eyes searching yours. You hesitate before nodding once. "You get that too?"

It comes out when you're most hurt. "I do."

He feels like can breathe for once, to not feel completely isolated from the rest of the world. Rafe always feels off, like something is wrong with him. Nothing can be explained; nothing is allowed to be explored. Even when he sought therapy, his father denied his request. He thought he‘d be forever alone in all this.

He steps forward, closing in the distance until there's only an inch of space separating you. But even that feels too big. Oxygen stuck in your throat, Rafe connects his gaze with yours to whisper. "You're like me, aren't you?"

You swallow hard. You didn't realize understanding someone could be a reflection of your own damning soul. You don't know if it's a good thing. "Yes."

His pupils are dilated and nearly pitch-black. His breathing shortens, and his gaze pools with desire. You feel it too. Your heart accelerates beneath your ribcage, your stomach knotting with want. When Rafe leans forward, about to capture your lips on his, you ready yourself to let it all in.

But you're a bit different.

You turn your head away at the last second, his contact coming to your cheek.

"I'm..." You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut. "I'm with JJ."

The world stills on its axis, and you feel the gravity of it beneath your feet. You slowly peel your eyes open, only to find Rafe having pulled back, his hand, midway through the air to hold your chin, closes into a tight fist.

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes swimming with regret.

The look on his face is heartbreaking because you know him in parallel, you know what he's feeling. You take a step back, for your sanity or his, it’s unclear. All you know is the distance was safe. Until it wasn't.

"I should go." You whisper.

Rafe says nothing as you pad your way across his room, slipping out of the door. He remains motionless in the same spot, his jaw set, his fists clenched by his side. The adrenaline pulses return through his veins.

Fuck.

It takes a minute to gather himself. Hearing nothing but the throbbing bass beneath him, pulsing through the floor. His heart is wretched, his stomach full of nausea.

Rafe returns to the balcony to pull away from his room, the place where you had been, and he steps closer to the ledge. Everything in his mind is too quiet; sterile and white-screeching. He doesn't know how to fathom this change.

His blue eyes search across the lawn and he easily picks you out of the crowd. He knows you well now. Those brief, fleeting moments attached to his soul are permanent memories.

You rejoined the party with Sarah and the rest of the Pogues, while JJ saunters over and throws his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close and whispering something in your ear. You smile and laugh, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

When you look up, you find Rafe already watching. His eyes are set on yours, unmoving, and the intimacy of his gaze strikes something deep. You had to turn away to preserve yourself.

Rafe slowly comes to his understanding on his own. He never had someone who understood him, much less in such a short time. You unravel him behind gentle stares and quiet observations. You knew him because you knew yourself, and he doesn't want to lose that. He doesn't want to lose you. He can’t.

So, he decided.

You weren't his.

But he's taking you anyways.

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