#why i never said anything or why i never wanted to do anything or why i didnt ever want to eat so i also felt like everyone hated me

[darnell-la]

i crave more mob boss!wolverine

𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗗

pairing: possessive mob-boss!logan howlett x stripper!reader

warnings: kidnapping, forced working, strangers to lovers, stripping, spoiling, grinding, breast play, tit sucking, riding, orgasm, possessiveness, rough fucking, claiming, etc.

summary: y/n had no idea who the top boss was and what he wanted from her. She soon found out during an unexpected requested private dance.

note: Logan is a man who’s going to mark his grounds. He’s very territorial. Reading this story will make you understand…

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

Working at a strip club was one thing when y/n first started the job. She was uncomfortable, but the ladies had made her feel welcomed.

Working for a mob boss was another; this time, she had to work whether she was comfortable or not. She tried talking to her boss, but his boss was the one who said she needed to relocate. There was no arguing.

Y/n tried to quit that day and soon found out how dangerous this man was. A few men had broken into her apartment, taking the lady with a fight.

She pled for help, but the people in the apartment knew whose men they were. They quickly went back into their own space and minded their business.

She now lives in a nightclub unwillingly. She wasn’t trusted by the top boss, so he made her stay where she would always be supervised.

This club was different than the last one she had worked at. It was bigger, cleaner, seemed more expensive, and the work she had to do was harder. She had never given private dances, but with her new schedule, she had to.

She’d never met the boss before. She demanded almost every day, but for months, Logan had sat back and ignored her requests.

When she first started at the other club, he hadn’t paid any attention to her because he had other things to worry about, but after he noticed her growth and the business she brought in, he decided to pay attention to her.

That meant he watched her dance, watched her have fun with the other girls, had people surveillance her outside of work, and maybe he’d do it himself if he had time.

The woman grew onto the man, so much, he couldn’t ignore her. He’d think and ask about her every day until too he finally told her boss, the man who worked for him, that she’d be relocating to his top club.

Y/n couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t being treated right occasionally. Her dances cost more, the private dances could pay her old rent, and she would get a daily allowance from the mysterious boss, which was double what she made in a week.

Anytime she thought about running away and making the higher-ups upset, she would sit back and think about her life, and the money.

She had no idea if this man was capable of killing her, and why would she run away from a job that gave her so much money, she could buy literally anything she wanted.

Y/n didn’t know this, but Logan would never harm a soul. Especially her. If she were to run away, he’d simply get her back.

“How long is this dance?” Y/n sighed as she walked in front of one of the VIP doors that was guarded more than usual. Usually, there are only two being on each side of the door, but tonight, the whole hallway was full of security guards.

“As long as he says,” the man replied to her with no facial expression. Y/n rolled her eyes as she opened the door to go in.

Once she got in, she saw a man in a chair, facing the other way. He was smoking a cigar and had a bottle of hard liquor sitting on the coffee table next to him.

Y/n closed the door before dimming the lights. She had no idea who this man was, as always, but she still continued her work.

Y/n pressed a button on the wall which turned on music for her. Her own playlist that she made to make her work against her will.

Logan, the boss would never allow any of his workers to do this, but for y/n, he exuded it. He wanted to make her feel comfortable without giving her up. That is why he gives her an allowance. Steppers don’t get an allowance from the boss.

“How do you want this session to go, baby?” Y/n asked as she came up behind the man, touching his shoulders softly as her lips slightly grazed his ear. The smell of her this close smelled amazing to the man.

“Touchy and slow,” the man said, making the girl walk around him until she was in front of him. “Good choice,” she smirked, knowing those are the best-paying sessions.

Y/n took a few steps away from the man and began stripping, slowly. She had this tight dress on she had never worn before. He picked that out for her.

“Slower,” he demanded in a soft and low voice. Y/n listened, pulling the straps from her shoulder as slowly as she could go with the music she had chosen.

Once y/n got the dress off, she turned around, showing off her body to the man. He had also picked the lingerie. He knew she’d look stunning in it.

“C’mere,” he said as he sat his cigar down and shifted in his chair. Y/n slowly turned around and walked towards the man who patted his lap.

“Sit,” he said, and she did as told, putting her knees on both sides of his outer thighs. “You can touch anywhere that’s not clothed,” y/n said as the man slowly placed his hands on her ass cheeks, gripping the slightly.

“Ain’t that so?” He softly chuckled as she began grinding her hips. “Mhm hm,” she hummed as she placed her hands on the man’s shoulders.

“What if I tell you I’m a special request? — A special guest,” he said, making her lean into his ear. “Then you’ll have to talk to my boss about a price change,” she said, knowing most don’t.

The man laughed as he softly traced his hands u the girl's body until she cupped her cheek, making her look into his eyes.

He was one of the best-looking customers she’s had. Tall, dark, handsome, muscular, actually smelled good, and the way he touched her almost seemed like soft and careful loving touches.

“Maybe I will,” he said, making her heart skip a beat. “I-I don’t know if he’ll allow it though,” y/n tried lying, and he knew that. “And why would that be, Bub?” The man asked as she kept grinding on him with soft but rough touches on his chest and shoulders.

“I don’t know,” she replied, making him chuckle again. “Lemme ask him real quick,” the man said before he closed his eyes shut. Y/n stopped her movement, confused about what he was doing.

She went to speak until his eyes finally opened. “He said, I can,” Logan answered for himself. “I don’t think that's how it works, baby,” y/n giggled, finding the man funny.

“Oh, but I do, Bub,” the man said as his hands slowly traced up her body until his fingers hugged into her bra. “Hey, if you wanna good session, you gotta follow the rules-“ Before she could say anything, the man ripped her bra off, clean.

Y/n let out a short scream as she covered herself up. “That’s it — Get out!” Y/n went to get up, but he gripped her waist tightly, keeping her in place.

“Why is that?” He asked with a smirk, liking how defensive she got. “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna call the boss,” she said, making him chuckle. She had no clue. She was about to find out.

“Told you, he said it was alright,” Logan said, making the girl give him a face of confusion. She was confused and thought to herself until it clicked in her head. He was the boss.

That’s why he had so many guards outside of the VIP room. That’s why she was requested to wear a certain outfit. She was dancing for the boss.

“O-Oh, sorry, I — I didn’t know,” y/n said, still keeping her breast covered, but had lightened up her body, trying to relax more so she wouldn’t lose her job. Yes, she’s thought about escaping, but with the money. I’d he fired her and kicked her out, she wouldn’t get the money.

“All good, darling. Just wanting to surprise my favorite girl,” Logan said, hands softly grabbing her wrist to pull them away from her chest. She fought back for a second, but soon let him do what he wanted.

“Good girl — Too pretty to be coverin’ up in front of me,” he said as both of his hands cupped her chest, massaging them with kindness. He wanted her comfortable before he brought out the man he was.

“I-I know I work for you, b-but I don’t usually do this,” y/n stuttered as the man’s fingers pinched and played with both of her nipples slowly.

“Mhm hm,” he hummed, fixated on making something spark in her, and he soon did. A small moan escaped her mouth after she parted her lips. It was hard to hide how good his touch felt.

“Logan- Mister Howlett,” y/n corrected herself, trying to come out of respect, but it’s not like he’d get rid of her. She could punch him right now, and he’d keep her. He’d shit shows her the consequences of those actions.

“Can call me Logan, Bub,” the man said right before he latched his mouth around one of the girl's nipples. Y/n moaned lightly, hands flying to his hair to tug on, but not away.

“Oh, fuck,” was all she could say as she started on the man again. If this was another man, she would’ve been fought, but with him, she couldn’t bring himself to. He played with her too well.

Logan groaned onto the girl's chest, sensing vibrations through her body as his hands tried to her panties until he ripped them off clean, just like her bra.

“Gonna listen to your boss, baby?” Logan asked in between his sucks. “Y-Yes, sir,” she whined as she leaned her head back. “Good girl,” Logan groaned as he pulled back and shifted under her.

“You’re a tasty little thing, but still a hard ass,“ Logan said, making the girl's heart pump. “I-I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise,” y/n felt like she was begging, and she was. Who knew how much she actually needed this job, and how much she needed him.

“Oh, yes, you will, because you got a lot of making up to do for me,” Logan said as he finally got his cock out of his jeans. Y/n’s sucked in a low breath at the size and sight of him.

He was huge. He was hard. He was leaking. He was hurting. He’s needed y/n for a while, and she’s about to find that out. “Ride me, Bub,”

Y/n was hesitant, but managed to lift herself up, allowing Logan to shift his body under her so she was right aligned with him.

“Listen to me, baby, or you’ll regret it,” Logan quickly changed his attitude, which didn’t alarm y/n in a bad way. It was actually making her more wet than she already was.

“Y-Yes, sir,” she stuttered again before he slowly sunk down onto the man. “F-Fuck,” y/n quickly winced at the pain. He stretched her quicker than she’d ever been stretched before.

“That’s it, baby — Get me all in,” Logan placed his hands on her waist to guide her down quicker. Y/n clenched around the man. She even twitched.

“Ah huh,” the man breathed out as she finally got every inch of him inside of her with a slight eye cross. She had felt the knot in her stomach built in an instant.

“Start movin, Bub,” Logan spoke in a warning tone, making sure she knew he didn’t want to take any type of time with this. “I paid for this session,” the man added.

Y/n placed her hands back on the man’s shoulders to help herself before she began bouncing slowly. Cunt gripping his pulsing rock-hard cock as.

“Fuuck,” the man groaned as he threw his head back. “So fucking tight,” the man admitted as she whined. It didn’t take long for her wetness to coat his cock, allowing her to move on him smoother.

“Gonna keep you, baby. Not like I haven’t already,” Logan said as he leaned his head back up, watching y/n crumble on his lap.

“Gonna be my girl, baby? Officially? Some gotta work no more, only for me,” Logan said as a hand softly wrapped around her neck. “Mhm hm,” y/n accepted something she didn’t even think about.

“Yeah? Gonna be a good girl and stick by my side for the same pay?” He asked. “Yes,” y/n whined, but down, she didn’t care about the pay, and he could see that. He could read right through her.

“Money isn’t the prize for you though, now ain’t it, baby? You just wanna ride my cock until you go dumb,” Logan said, making her nod her head repeatedly.

“Oh, yeah,” the man groaned darkly as he planted his feet and began plunging up into the younger lady, making her take him far more than she could handle.

“Oh, fuck,” y/n cried as the grip on his shoulders tightened. “Good little girl — So damn pretty and obedient. Almost thought you hated me,” the man smirked up at her as she shook.

She did hate the man. That was until she realized how good-looking he was and how damn good his cock felt.

“So drunk on my cock, you’re forgetting I basically took you from your home,” the man fake pouted as he snapped his hips harder, allowing the room to fill with their skin clapping.

“I’m gonna cum, sir,” y/n warned, making him groan at how good she sounded calling him sir. “Good, baby. Cum on my cock. Soak my jeans. Show me who you belong to. Show me who I belong to,” Logan said, feeling his own orgasm near.

“Oh, yes — Yes, yes,” y/n cried out as she shook, letting loose all over the man with a loud moan. “That’s it! Fuckin’ cum on me, y/n. Cum!” The man’s grip on her neck and waist tightened, making y/n feel taken over. That feeling only made her mind foggy.

“Gonna fill you up, baby. You gonna like that? Gonna take it? — Tell me you’re gonna take it, baby,” Logan needed to hear her. “Gonna take it,” y/n could barely get out from how slow her mind was moving her the lack of air getting out of her throat. “Ah huh, ah huh!”

Logan brutally fucked the girl with a loud groan, spilling into her as she shook and went slack. He held her up though, making sure her half-opened eyes looked down at the man who now claimed he’d officially.

“Yes, baby,” the man couldn’t stop rutting into her. The pleasure only grew more as he heard her and his cum mixing together in her cunt. She was full, but he wanted to fill her more.

“Fuck, c’mere,” Logan said as he picked y/n up and threw her over his shoulder. He paid no attention to the state they were in and walked out of the VIP room.

“Cancel all appointments with y/n for tonight and any other night — Buy everything on the list I made all week so she’ll have something good to wake up to,” Logan said as he walked down the hallway and out of the back door that lead to other parts of the club.

Logan carried y/n to his room which was on the last floor of the large building. He knew she had questions to ask the whole way up, but all she could let out were whines.

Her cunt still leaked his cum, occasionally dropping down his arm as he stepped through his building. He fucked her well and planned to put her to sleep.

“Gonna wake up like a princess tomorrow morning, Bub,”

[itneverendshere]

okay we know rafes help reader in situations like with electricity and no car and such. but maybe it’s the first time where he knows he’s in love with her and she’s the one for him, where she doesn’t go to him for any help. and it’s maybe like not having enough money to buy groceries for herself, or how she walks to work still bc she can’t afford gas. and he gets so mad, and she thinks it’s an inconvenience to him. but it’s actually because rafe will always be there for her, and no matter what the problem is , he can fix it just for her

you got me overnight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader(bartender!reader universe) warnings: first fight and confession 🫂

Rafe knew convincing you he was worth a shot was the easiest part of your relationship.

You were absolutely perfect, made to be his. He could picture you right now, the way you’d smile at his stupid jokes, the warmth of your hand in his, or how you’d send him those random "good morning" texts that hit him like a gut punch every time. You were everything. It wasn’t just the way you looked, although that obviously had him floored, but the way you thought about things, the way you cared about people. It was all of it. You gave a shit.

That was something new for him.

He never thought he’d get someone like you, someone who made him want to be better. It was months later, and he was hooked.

Totally gone. You were the real deal for him. Every time his phone buzzed with your name on the screen, it hit him in the chest. Hard.

So when you dropped it on him, casually, that you were walking to work because you didn’t have the gas money while he’d been away on a family holiday, it set off something inside him.

You said it like it was no big deal, like it was just another part of your day. He was losing it. The idea of you walking to work, sweating it out while he was chilling on vacation, made him feel sick. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He didn’t understand why you didn’t tell him earlier, didn’t ask for help. Why didn’t you call him? He could’ve handled it in a second, no problem. You didn’t need to be doing stuff like that. 

“You’ve been walking to work?”

“Yeah… it’s fine. It’s not far,” you replied, brushing it off like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to him. He knew how far your walk was.

He knew it wasn’t just around the corner. And you didn’t have to be doing this. Even if he hadn’t been there for the past week to give you a ride as he usually did, he could’ve taken care of it even if he was miles away. He was always here for you, even if he wasn’t physically there.

Rafe gripped the counter tighter, trying to keep his frustration under control, for your sake. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t tell me you were low on gas.”

You gave a little shrug, as if that was the end of the conversation.

“Didn’t wanna bother you. It’s not your problem.”

Didn’t wanna bother him? Not his problem? You were his problem, the best kind of problem, and he couldn’t understand why you thought you had to handle everything by yourself. It pissed him off—not at you, but at the fact that you were doing this, struggling in silence. It was like you didn’t trust him to be there for you. 

You didn’t trust him enough to lean on him when you needed something.

“What do you mean it’s not my problem?” His voice came out harsher than what he'd hoped for, and you froze, eyes wide.

“Whoa. Chill,” you said, holding your hands up defensively. “I didn’t think you’d get so worked up about it. I can handle it.”

But that wasn’t the point. You shouldn’t have to handle it. Not when you had him. You were supposed to lean on him, to come to him when things like this came up. 

That’s what being together meant.

It was crazy to him. Every part of him wanted to protect you, to make sure you didn’t have to deal with anything like this on your own. The thought of you walking to work—tired, probably stressed out—while he was away doing nothing important...he hated it.

"You don’t have to handle it, though," he argued, voice softer now but still frustrated “That’s the thing. You don’t get it, do you? I want to help. I need to help. When you're struggling, that's my problem too. I wanna be there for you. Always.”

You looked at him like he was overreacting like he was making something out of nothing. “Baby, it’s not that serious. It’s just a couple of walks. You’re acting like I was in danger or something.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down, but it wasn’t working. "It's not about the fucking walks. It's the fact that you didn’t even think to tell me. Like I wouldn’t care.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples like you were tired of this conversation already. “I didn’t wanna bother you. You were on vacation. I didn’t want to stress you out over something so small.”

He didn’t know why it pissed him off so much, but it did. It was gnawing at him like a splinter under his skin, “You’re serious? You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” 

You shifted on your feet, already defensive. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I figured I’d just handle it.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” he snapped, stepping closer to you, his hand gesturing wildly. “You figured you’d handle it? What the fuck? Why would you think I wouldn’t want to know about something like this?”

“Because it’s stupid gas money, Rafe!” you fired back, your frustration bubbling to the surface now. “I didn’t wanna bother you with something so small! You were gone, and I didn’t want to make it a whole fucking thing.”

He could hear the irritation in your voice, but it just made him angrier.

You thought you were protecting him from being “bothered,” but all it did was make him feel like you didn’t need him. Like you didn’t think he could help, or worse, like you didn’t want him to.

“Small? Are you fucking kiddin’ me? You walked to work for how many days, in the heat, probably tired as fuck, and you think that’s small?” His voice was rising, and he hated that he couldn’t control it, but he was too worked up now. “It’s not about the gas money. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me. You kept it to yourself, like I’m just some fucking dude who’s not in your life like that.”

You crossed your arms, your own frustration clear. “Rafe, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. I didn’t need to tell you because I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless.”

“That’s not what this is about!” he nearly shouted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “This isn’t about you being helpless or not! It’s about you letting me be there for you, letting me help you when things get tough. Shit. That’s what this is, what we are. You don’t fucking get it.”

“I do fucking get it, Rafe!” you snapped back, stepping closer to him, your eyes burning with misplaced anger. “But I don’t need to run to you every time something goes wrong. I’m not gonna fall apart because of a few days without a car.”

He was grinding his teeth now, trying to keep his composure but failing miserably. “It’s not about falling apart. It’s about the fact that you didn’t even think to lean on me! You didn’t trust me enough to just call and say, ‘Hey baby, I’m low on gas. Can you help?’ You shouldn’t have to figure it out on your own.”

You threw your hands up, exasperated. “I did figure it out! I walked. It wasn’t some huge disaster. I made it work.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the kitchen. “Why can’t you get that? You don’t have to handle shit like this alone! I want to be there for you. I need to be there for you. Don’t you get that?”

You flinched at the volume of his voice, but you didn’t back down.

“You’re acting like I don’t care about us because I didn’t ask you to bail me out. I care, Rafe. But I can deal with things on my own, too. I’m not just gonna dump every little problem on you like it’s your job to fix everything.”

Rafe shook his head, running his hands through his hair for the millionth time, pacing now because he couldn’t stand still. “It is my job, though. That’s the whole fucking point. I’m supposed to be the one you come to when things go wrong sweets, big or small. I’m supposed to be the one who makes your life easier, not the guy you hide stuff from.”

You let out a frustrated laugh, disbelief coloring your tone. “Hide? Seriously? You think I’m hiding things from you? It was gas money, Rafe, not some deep, dark secret.”

“It feels like it, though!” he shot back, voice cracking slightly, betraying the emotion he’d been holding back. “It feels like you don’t trust me. Like I’m not… like I’m not enough for you to depend on.”

You went silent at that, your arms dropping to your sides as you stared at him, the tension between you thick and heavy. “That’s not fair,” you said quietly, shaking your head. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” his voice cracked slightly, “Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’m out here thinking I’m the one who’s supposed to have your back, but you’re just out there, dealing with stuff alone. It makes me feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m not even part of your life like that.”

“That’s not what this is,” you said, stepping toward him now, the fight draining out of your voice. “I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want you to worry. Not because I don’t trust you. I thought I was helping by not making you deal with it.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Helping? You think it helps me to know you’re struggling and didn’t say anything? That’s not helping. Shit, that’s torture, baby. I’d rather know and fix it than find out after and feel like an idiot because I wasn’t there.”

You sighed, rubbing your face with both hands, exhaustion settling in. “Rafe, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“It’s serious to me,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now, the anger ebbing away, leaving only the hurt behind. “Because I love you. And when you love someone, you don’t want them to handle things alone. You want to be there. Always.”

You froze, eyes wide as you stared at him. What? He hadn’t planned to say it like this, not in the middle of a fight, but there it was—out there and real.

“I love you,” he repeated, quieter this time. “And I need you to understand that means I’m here. For all of it. No matter how small it seems.”

He said it. He loved you. Maybe it wasn’t the best timing, but at least it was out of his chest. This man who had always been so intense, so fiercely protective, was looking at you like you held his entire world in your hands. And you did.

He loved you. That word—love—felt huge, almost too much. But it was what you had felt for him too. It was why you held back from asking for help, not because you didn’t trust him, but because you didn’t want to burden him with every little problem. You thought you were protecting him. Now, standing there, you realized maybe you’d gotten it wrong.

“You l-love me?”

“Yeah. I thought that was obvious by now.”

“Rafe…” you started, but he shook his head, his jaw clenched like he was bracing himself for rejection.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, turning away, his hand running through his face. “You don’t have to say anything. I just—I just needed you to know.”

“No.” You stepped forward, reaching for his hand before he could pull completely away. “No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just say it and walk away like I’m not standing right here.”

His gaze shot back to yours, confused and a little bit guarded, like he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“I love you too,” you said, the words feeling right as soon as they left your lips. You squeezed his hand, needing him to feel it. “I love you, okay? I didn’t ask for help because I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. I thought I was being strong, handling things on my own. I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t need you. I do need you,” you continued, stepping closer, your voice trembling slightly. “And I know now that I should’ve just called. That I should’ve let you help me, because that’s what we do. We’re a team. I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off him. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest, his grip almost desperate. You melted into him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the calming thrum of his heartbeat.

“You’re not a burden,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You’ll never be a burden. I just—I need you to let me be there for you. I don’t care what it is. Big or small, I wanna know. I wanna help.”

You nodded against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, letting the warmth of his skin calm you.

“Okay. I promise.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. There was something in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before—relief, maybe, but more than that. Love. He felt you relax against him, your body molding into his.

“Say it again,” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckled softly, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “I love you, Rafe.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. “I need you to get something,” he said softly, his voice much calmer now “When I say I love you, I’m not just saying it. I mean it. Like… for real. I’m in this, all the way.”

You blinked up at him, your eyes wide “I—” you started, but he shook his head, cutting you off gently.

“No, listen,” he interrupted, “I’ve never felt like this before. You’re everything. And I love you for it. I love every single part of you.”

He felt his chest tighten as he said it, like the words were coming from somewhere so deep inside him that he hadn’t even realized they were there until now. But they were, and they were real. He didn’t just love you—he needed you. He wasn’t sure if you’d even processed it yet. Then, slowly, you grinned, your eyes glistening just a little. 

 “This just… it feels so big. Holy shit, bigger than anything I’ve ever felt.”

“That’s because it is big,” Rafe said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours again. “It’s the biggest thing in the world to me. You are.”

Your breath hitched, and he could feel you trembling slightly in his arms. You reached up, cupping his face with your hands, and for the first time since the fight started, Rafe felt like you were really seeing him. Not just in that moment, but all of him—the guy who was scared out of his mind at how much he needed you, but who was willing to do anything to keep you close.

“I love you too,” you said it again, your voice shaking a little as you said it. “I’m sorry.”

 “We’re in this together,” he kissed your knuckles, his own fingers gently brushing through your hair. “No more going through stuff alone. Not you, not me. We’ve got each other now.”

You smiled, and Rafe felt like he could breathe again, really breathe, for the first time all night. “Deal,” you whispered.

And right there, he knew that everything was going to be okay.

Because you weren’t just someone he loved—you were his person. 

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Particular Risk

Synopsis: They say taking a risk could drown you-- but you knew it must be taken, and if you were to jump in the deep end, your knight would always follow you closely behind. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess Realizations, Jealousy, Fluff, Princess Taking Risks PREVIOUS PART A/N: MWAH 💋

“No! I’ve already worn this last year— and this the year before that!” You explained as you tried to find a headpiece for your father’s name day celebration. It was a tradition that each name day of the king was celebrated with a masquerade ball— a tradition you had looked forward to each year, always amused and excited to attend such an event. Through the years, it had become vexing as you took it upon yourself to wear a headpiece unique and unlike the other you had worn or anything similar to other members of the court. “How about this, princess? It—“ You cut off the masque maker, “My cousin had already worn a mask similar to that one three years before,” You sighed, struggling to find the final piece of your ensemble for the ball that was fast approaching. 

“If I may, princess— perhaps you have a design in mind? If none of these are to your liking, we are more than happy to create a piece completly unique to you.” The masque maker suggested, not wanting to leave their princess unhappy. You paused for a moment and thought about the proposition before nodding; Ser Aemond was quick to your aid and handed you your leather-bound sketchbook and charcoal. You smiled upon him in gratitude, trying to urge yourself to grow accustomed to the quickening in your heart each time your eyes met and your skin brushed. Aemond marveled at how quick you were to sketch what you desired, quickly creating what you wished. You tore the page and handed it to the masque maker. It was a mask in the intricate design of a butterfly wing. “And I want it to be made with sapphires and… and perhaps gold, if it’s not too heavy,” You say, pointing at the places you wished to put the precious gemstones. “Of course, princess, we shall make it right away,” The masque maker bowed and proceeded to leave with haste to complete your masque for the ball that was merely three days away. 

As he left you, bit your lip and frowned, “Did you think I was too demanding?” You suddenly asked Ser Aemond as you rested your back on your settee. Second-guessing your particularity and having to ask the masque maker to make you a specific mask when, in truth, the masks he presented were completely adequate. “No, princess,” Aemond replied, questioning why you asked such a question. “Why would you think so?” You sighed and shrugged, “Well, it’s just… I feel guilty— maybe the masque maker thinks I do not think his designs are good to the point that I had to make my own; I do not wish to offend him…” You pouted, taking hold of the masques he had left, twirling the feather decoration between your fingers. “You are too kind, princess,” Aemond said, his heart warming and concerned at how such a little encounter made you feel guilty. “You know what it is you want— that is an admirable quality,” Aemond hummed.

“Is it? My mother always said my particularity is a sin because it makes me demanding,” You muttered. Aemond straightened his stance, “There is a difference between knowing what you want and demanding what you want, princess,” He said, “Being demanding is you take for granted all that you are given— asking and asking for more without even a speck of gratitude. That is not you, princess… that is never you,” You smiled at your knight as his words only made you fall deeper for him. “That is very kind of you to say,” You smiled, trying to reign in the flush that crept up your cheeks. Aemond bit the insides of his cheeks as he realized the smile on your lips was because of him. 

When the day of the ball arrived, the keep was busied to prepare for the night's festivities. Ser Aemond stood outside your door as you were prepared for the party in your father’s name, observing and listening to your pacing footsteps as you frantically got ready. “Tighter, please.” You say as you steadied yourself by the poster of your bed. “Are you certain, princess? Can you even breathe?” Your handmaid questions, apprehension heavy in her voice. You nodded and took in a deep breath as your corset was tightened to your liking. You let out a sigh as your body was hugged further by the bodice of your dress. You moved towards your vanity as your handmaid began to style your hair. Theodore lept upon the table, and you cooed at your cat, who was almost fully grown, placing a special collar and a special headpiece on his head so he would not feel left out for the day’s gala. 

A knock sounded out as your handmaiden finished styling your hair. You thanked her and dismissed her, and in exchange, Ser Aemond entered your chambers holding two silk boxes. “Your masque has arrived, princess,” Ser Aemond stated and placed down the boxes on your vanity table. A wide grin spread upon your lips as you inspected the mask made to your specifications and wants. He turned towards the other box, not certain of what it could contain, for he knew you had only sent out one design, but he did not question it. 

You gently placed down the masque and stood, taking hold of the unopened box, and walked to Ser Aemond, urging him to take it. “Pardon, princess?” he asked as he was uncertain what you meant. “It’s yours— I sent them another design and asked them to make a mask for you,” You smiled. Aemond blinked. “I… I am not in need of a mask, princess— I am not a guest.” He said, but you only shook your head. 

“All who will be in the hall later are in need to wear a masque! You are to be my side later on, are you not?” You question, and Ser Aemond nodded. “Of course, I will be by your side—but I do not need a mask— if anything, it would hinder me from my duty. I already only have one eye; it would be cumbersome if I wore a mask and obstructed the view of the other,” He explained, and you pursed your lips. “Which is why I designed one specifically for you,” You say and urge him once again to open the box. Ser Aemond did so hesitantly. Aemond pursed his lips as he was presented with a mask that matched yours. One that covered his damaged eye with a gleaming sapphire. Aemond swallowed thickly, at a loss for words. Had you known his secret? How did you know all that he hid? 

“Do you not like it?” You asked, slight dread in your stomach as your knight only gaped upon the mask you designed. “No— I…I do,” He suddenly spoke, fearing he offended you. You bit your lip as you could not read his eye, “If you truly do not wish to wear a mask, I understand,” You said and tried to take it from his hold, but he hindered you. “No, I shall wear it. Thank you, princess,” your knight assured, and you nodded, hoping you did not force upon your knight the mask. 

“Princess, the guests are arriving,” You hear a squire call out, and you move to wear your mask and carry Theodore in your arms. As you turned your gaze to your knight, Ser Aemond had already forgone his eyepatch and wore the mask that matched yours— a picture of unity that you could humor yourself with. You smiled as he led out his arm for you to take as the two of you went down to the reception hall. “Happy name day, Father!” You greeted as you saw your father standing by the great doors, already wearing his mask. “Thank you, my darling, and don’t you look lovely,” The king smiled, kissed his daughter on the cheek, and petted her beloved cat. The king moved to glance at the knight who stood behind his daughter, Ser Aemond giving a bow at the king, who gave a nod and noticed how Ser Aemond’s maks matched his daughter’s; the king said naught a word. 

You took your place by the left of your brother, and your knight stood behind you. “Did you truly bejeweled your cat’s collar?” Your brother asked, looking upon Theodore, who was perfectly behaved in your arms. “Of course! No child of mine would be underdressed!” You say, placing a kiss on your cat’s back, and your brother lets out an amused breath as you claim the feline to be your child. You greeted the guests who attended the celebration, but you could not help but be distracted and glance towards your knight— sneaking a look upon him as he surveilled all who came and, if any, presented danger. Gods, the sapphire truly suited him. You could not help but think. You let out a breath and returned to face forward to return at the matter at hand, fearing Ser Aemond would notice your glances and learn of your affection for him. 

When the party had moved to the great hall, you found your way back to your knight, ushering you along the crowded room. The two of you were supposed to make your way toward the long table at the end of the grand hall, but the call of your name, unchained by any title, made you both pause. Ser Aemond was quick to frown at who had the gall to call upon you so openly. He turned to you, and before he could utter a word, you left his side and readily ran towards the call. Aemond felt a twisting in his gut as you ran towards the man and threw your arms around him— the stranger twirling around and even went as far as to kiss your cheek. Aemond swallowed thickly, not knowing what to do. He knew he must be by your side, but he could not bear to be there when another took his place. 

“I did not know you would attend! Why did you not write to me?” He heard your question, watching as you took hold of the man’s hand and pulled towards the end table, walking past him without another glance. Aemond’s hold on the hilt of his sword tightened as he followed you and the stranger whom your brother and your father readily and warmly welcomed. Absent was any recognition from your mother— which was not at all surprising. “You did not tell us you will attend!” Your brother greeted in surprise, hugging the man and giving him a clap on the back. “Of course, I would never miss the king’s name day,” He charmingly smiled, and Aemond watched you roll your eyes as if it were something amusing that completely flew over Aemond’s head— he could not even bear to look upon the man’s face as he was certain if he did, he would have to battle with the urge to maim him. Who was he?! 

Throughout the whole night, you were enveloped with merriment and were entertained by the man that Aemond had slipped away form your side, and he was certain that you had not even noticed. He watched from a distance as you spun on the dance floor, laughing carelessly whilst in the arm of another. Aemond looked away, unable to bear such a scene. Jealousy was consuming him, but at the same time, he knew he had no right to feel such emotions, for he was only your knight. And yet, envy gnawed at him— coursing through his veins and making the scar of his eye throb and burn. 

At the height of the party, you excused yourself to have a breath of fresh air; you looked around the hall in search of your knight. You had been trying to capture his gaze the whole night, trying to spot his unique silver hair, but he had been seamlessly in the crowd, denying you to gaze upon his lilac eye. You went towards the farthest balcony alone, wagering to yourself that your knight would somehow find you— that an unknown presence would pull him towards you. It did. 

“I haven’t seen you the whole night,” You stated, staring at the moon at the distant sound of the party filled the quiet night. You had felt him creep up by his rightful place that he had abandoned the past few hours. “How could you? You were distracted,” Aemond answered, tone holding bitterness that he tried not to seep through, but jealousy was an erratic and unbridled emotion that not many could control. You finally turned to look upon your knight, your smile faltering as you saw his overly stoic demeanor, and he had removed the mask you had made especially for him. “You’re not wearing your mask anymore,” you said quietly, a tad disappointed. “I did not feel the need to, princess,” He answered coldly.

You blinked upon the furrow in his brows. “Are you well?” You questioned, the air between you tenser than it was just a few hours before. “Yes,” Ser Aemond answered curtly. “But you’re frowning,” Ser Aemond shook his head, “I am not, princess.” You playfully rolled your eyes and step closer to your knight. “You are, there’s a line between your brows,” You say, reaching up and trying to smoothen the crease on the middle of his face. But as you did, your knight jerked his head away— as if your touch had scorned him— he moved away as if he were disgusted. “I—“ You say and quickly retrieve your hand, your stomach twisting as you find offense in his actions. “I’m sorry,” You finished your sentence, not expecting him to react in such a way. 

Aemond saw the hurt in your eyes, guilt creeping into his bloodstream, but it was overpowered by the jealousy he felt as he had to observe you with the stranger. “Go back to the party, princess,” He said, voice having the same tone of indifference it had during his first days as your sworn protector. “I… I do not understand you,” you said, resting your hand on your abdomen as the twist in your stomach never left. “One moment, you are warm and… and kind and obliging— then the next, you turn cold and detached… why do you do it?” You asked, as much as you hold affection for Ser Aemond, it was hard to overlook his differing treatment. It confuses you further, and you do not know if his sentiments were genuine or an act. Aemond shook his head once more, not wanting to answer your question. 

“Just return to the party, princess— I’m certain he is waiting for you,” He gritted, not able to meet you in the eye. You frowned, noting the bitterness in his voice, a bitterness you had grown to know as you had felt it more often as of late. You turned your gaze upon his gritted jaw, then to his clenched fists. “Are you jealous?” You suddenly asked, his stature not of anger but rather of jealousy. His reactions are quite the same as yours as you felt such emotions. Aemond scoffed, “What kind of question is that?” He asked in ridicule, once again toeing the line of impertinence as he addressed you in such a tone. 

“A simple one. Are you jealous?” You asked once more, curious as well if that was the emotion he felt and as to why he felt it and what it meant if he were actually jealous. “I do not know what you speak of, princess.” Aemond gritted, not wanting to admit that you knew the precise emotion he felt. You tried to meet his eye, trying to see if he uttered the truth, but he avoided your gaze. You bit your lip in defeat and embarrassment. “Very well then,” you nodded and walked past him and did as he said and returned to the party but your merriment had gone the moment your knight had left your side. 

“Come, let me escort you to your chambers,” Aemond heard the man say as he linked his arms with yours. He could not believe what he heard and saw— you nodded and let him assist you, bidding your family good night, and they only let you go off with the stranger without question. Even your brother, who was overly protective of you when it came to your suitors, only nodded and bid you goodnight, not even batting an eye as he let the man escort you to your chambers. Aemond wanted to scream— to let out his frustrations at what was happening, at how you, the one who had insisted that she wanted nothing to do with a suitor or the opposite sex, let this man escort you to your room. He tried to listen in to your conversation as he trailed behind you in the halls, but your voices were hushed and could not be understood; it was as if you two spoke a secret language— familiarity between the two of you evident and only twisted the heart of Aemond. 

You paused when you reached your door, smiling at the man. Ser Aemond held his breath as he watched you stand at the tip of your toes and give the man a kiss on the cheek. By gods, this was torture. What had he done to bear witness to such a scene? Aemond was ready to succumb to another dimension of hurt and envy, but before he could fall into a further pit of despair, he heard you speak. “Good night… brother,” You smiled fondly. Ser Aemond caught your eye as you quickly glanced at him before disappearing into your chambers, leaving him dumbfounded. Brother?

The next morning came, and everyone in the keep had a later start on the day except for Aemond, who still tried to piece together what you had said the night before. Borther? You had another brother? How did he not know? None had mentioned him before— he was absent from any other event— he was not even present in any of the portraits in the keep. How, then, could he be your brother!?

“Goo—Good morning, princess,” Aemond stuttered as you exited your chambers. His jealousy had simmered and instead turned into nerves as he did not know where the two of you stood after your conversation last night. “Good morning.” You replied curtly, walking past Ser Aemond, growing accustomed to the usual retaliation and routine of ignorance and silence whenever you and your knight would grow cross with one another. He followed you to the gardens, your usual lonesome place now housed your two brothers who waited for you. “There you are!” Your brother, whose name he was still yet to know, greeted. “I still cannot believe you did not tell us that you were coming! We could have prepared your room!” You greeted your brother as he assisted you to your chair. “Well, in truth, my coming was unplanned— I was only near the capitol as I had to buy supplies, and I thought I should come to the king’s celebration,” Your brother explained as he fought with you with the piece of pastry you were eyeing, smiling at his tease to acquire what you wanted but in the end, he only placed it onto your plate. 

“I actually have to leave— I had just waited for you to wake so I could bid you goodbye.” The smile on your lips quickly disappeared. “But you’ve only just arrived! And we have not seen you in so long— must you truly go already?” You asked, disappointed upon the revelation. “I’m afraid so; they are waiting for me in the Citadel… but I assure you, I shall come once again during winter— that is if your mother allows me to step foot on capitol grounds.” Aemond frowned upon your other brother’s wording— the prince letting out an amused chuckle as he popped a berry into his mouth. “Fine. But if you are not here by the holidays, I’ll have Father send out men to come fetch you, I swear.” You say as you narrow your eyes, and your brother only smiles. “I know, you’ve done it before.” 

Aemond followed as you and the prince bid goodbye to your brother by the gates. Aemond still wondered about what had happened— at how the man he thought was your suitor was your brother and how your brother was not acknowledged by the court. “Ser Aemond,” the prince nodded as he walked past your knight to attend his duties for the day. Aemond swallowed as he heard you sigh, the two of you now left alone and the tenseness in the air had never departed. You and Aemond were once again succumbed to the silence of indifference— one he hoped would be quick to be gone. It was nearing nightfall, the sky alight with the afterglow of the sun, and Aemond could no longer stomach the two of you not speaking. 

Your knight pursed his lips and let out a grieved breath, daring to take hold of your arm and pull you into an alcove of an empty hall. “What is it?” You asked coldly. “I…. I—“ Your knight could not articulate his words— confusion and remorse taking hold of his senses. You stood there for a moment as Ser Aemond could not make out his words, but the confusion in his eye told you all that you needed to know. “Do you recall when I told you when my mother and father did not marry for love?” You questioned, and Ser Aemond only nodded. “Father loved another… and from that love came our half-brother.” You explained the deepest secret your family had to your knight. “He was born a moon before my mother and father married— but his mother had died during his birth. Instead of disregarding his existence, Father placed him in the care of a distant cousin— and the court has been fed the lie that he is our cousin when, in truth, he was our brother.” 

“He is a bastard,” Aemond stated as he recalled all you had said. His words quickly made a frown slip to your face. “He, is my brother. No matter the state of legitimacy.” You said, and Aemond recoiled as he realized not all held the distaste for bastards as he did because not all had the same treatment he had from the bastards in his family. “I’m sorry, princess,” Aemond said in remorse, not even able to meet your gaze. You pursed your lips and rested your back upon the curved wall of the alcove as you assessed Ser Aemond. It should concern you that even though he had offended you, your heart still yearned for him. “I still do not understand you,” you say. “Whenever I think we are venturing towards a sense of normalcy— that we’re getting somewhat closer… you grow cold and distance yourself.” You hated this— you hated to sound as such before Ser Aemond because you knew, at its core, your relationship did not warrant any speck of closeness or anything that resembled intimacy. He was your knight, and you were simply his duty. 

Aemond licked his lips as he had no words to explain why he did such action— well, he did have the words, but he knew he could not utter it. “That is just how I am, princess,” he reasoned, but you sighed and crossed your arms across your chest, looking to your left and momentarily distracting yourself with the view of the afterglow. “I do not believe you.” You say quietly. “You do not have to,” Aemond answered. “So last night… your reaction was not brought forth by jealousy— what was it then?” You questioned, daring to utter the question even though you took the risk of hurting your pride once more. Aemond bit his tongue, having no way out of the conversation. He swallowed thickly, and before he could listen to reason and before his sensibilities could hinder him, he spoke the truth. “It was.” You frowned and wondered if you heard correctly. “Why?” You questioned in disbelief. 

Aemond turned to his right and stared out into the afterglow as well, knowing in himself there was no escape— he knew he must take the risk even if his station and pride would be on the line. “Because… because he took my place.” He said, not having the guts to offer half-truths or a made-up reason to defend his actions. “You had not even noticed my departure, for you were too consumed by his presence,” he mumbled, not able to hinder himself once more. “So you were jealous because you thought he was my suitor, and my attention was on him instead of you…” You trailed, your knight unmoving and providing no validation for your question. “Why would you be jealous?” In truth, you thought he had no care— that he was immune to such emotions, for your affections were certainly unrequited… wasn’t it?

You locked eyes with his unique lilac ones. The silence was palpitating but never uncomfortable. None uttered a word, but each moment you held your sworn protector’s gaze, you found your answer. You let out a shaky breath as you realized Ser Aemond’s gaze mirrored yours— that your emotions were one with his. And with such realizations, words were taken from you, and all you could do was close the damned gap between and take the risk. You stood on the tip of your toes and let your lips be met with your knight’s because you knew what you wanted, and what you wanted was him. Just him. 

[starsjulia]

casual // leah williamson

a/n : a long angsty one based of this request

warnings : angst with a happy ending (ish?), fwb

The rain always seemed to hit harder on nights like this, when you were alone in your apartment, the silence weighing heavy around you. Your phone was lying on the coffee table, screen dark, as you tried your best not to stare at it. Not to pick it up. Not to send the message you swore you wouldn’t send this time.

But the temptation was always there. Leah was always there. Somewhere in the back of your mind.

It had been two years since this thing between you had started—this complicated mess of blurred lines and unspoken rules. It had begun like most bad ideas do: with too much wine and one reckless decision. A kiss that turned into something more, with promises of “this is just for fun” whispered between sheets. You were friends, after all. Close friends, nothing more, nothing less. And that night, it had been easy to believe that you could keep it that way.

But nothing had been simple since then.

You sat there now, curled up on the couch, blanket pulled tight around you as you stared at the empty space beside you. Two years of stolen moments. Late-night texts. Meeting up when the loneliness felt too heavy to carry. Always on her terms, though. Always when she had time. You had told yourself it was enough, that you were fine with the arrangement. After all, Leah had been honest from the start. She didn’t want a relationship. She didn’t have time for one, with her football career and all the responsibilities that came with it.

And you were fine with that. Or, at least, you pretended to be.

Because the truth was, you weren’t fine. You hadn’t been fine in months.

The problem with pretending not to care was that it became harder and harder to keep up the act. You were good at pretending, though. Pretending not to feel the sting of her absence when weeks went by without a word. Pretending not to notice how she never stayed the night, always slipping out of your bed before dawn with some excuse about training or early mornings. Pretending that this arrangement, this friends-with-benefits setup, was still just casual fun for you.

The truth was, it hadn’t been casual in a long time.

Your phone buzzed on the table, breaking through the quiet tension in the room. You stared at it for a moment, hesitant, before reaching for it. The name on the screen made your heart do that stupid, traitorous leap in your chest.

Leah : You home? x

Three words. So simple. So innocent. Yet they carried so much weight.

You typed back quickly, your fingers shaking slightly.

Yeah. Why? x

It wasn’t long before her response came in.

can i come over? x

It was always like this. These late-night texts, her asking to come over, to slip back into your life for a few hours before disappearing again. And you always said yes. No matter how many times you told yourself you wouldn’t. No matter how many times you swore this time would be different.

Sure, doors unlocked x

You sat there for a moment, staring at the words on the screen, regretting them as soon as you sent them. But it was too late. You couldn’t take them back now.

Fifteen minutes later, Leah was at your door.

She walked in like she always did—confident, with an easy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She looked tired. Exhausted, even. You knew the demands of her career were catching up to her, that she had been under more pressure than ever lately. The national team, her club, the media—all of it was taking a toll. You could see it in the way her shoulders slumped slightly, in the faint shadows under her eyes.

But she didn’t say anything about it. She never did. Instead, she just collapsed onto your couch, exhaling deeply.

“Rough day?” you asked softly, sitting down beside her but keeping a bit of space between you. You had learned to do that, to create some distance even when she was right there next to you.

Leah shrugged, running a hand through her hair. “Just tired. Training’s been brutal lately.”

You nodded, unsure what to say. This was how it always was—small talk that never led anywhere. You were friends, but there was always this wall between you, this unspoken rule that you never crossed into anything deeper.

But tonight, something about it felt heavier than usual. Maybe it was the rain outside, or maybe it was just the weight of everything that had been building between you. The things you hadn’t said. The things you couldn’t say.

Leah glanced over at you, her eyes searching your face for something you weren’t sure you could give. “You okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more tentative.

You forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

It was a lie, of course. But she didn’t press you on it. She never did.

Instead, Leah leaned in, her hand finding your thigh in that familiar way that always made your heart skip. Her touch was soft, but there was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before. Like she could feel that something was off.

You looked at her, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Is this what you came here for?” you asked, your voice coming out sharper than you intended.

Leah blinked, pulling back slightly, her hand falling from your leg. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is this what it is for you? Just… this.” You gestured between the two of you, your frustration finally bubbling over. “Is that all I am to you, Leah? A convenience? Something you can come back to when it’s easy for you?”

Her eyes widened slightly, taken aback by your words. “Where’s this coming from?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, your chest tightening as the words you had been holding in for so long finally began to spill out. “It’s been two years, Leah. Two years of this—of you showing up when you feel like it, of you acting like we’re just friends, but then turning around and…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely, unable to find the right words.

Leah stared at you, her expression unreadable. “I didn’t know you felt like this.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Of course you didn’t. I’ve been too busy pretending everything’s fine. But it’s not, Leah. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with being whatever this is.”

Leah looked down, her jaw clenching slightly. “We agreed it would be casual. That’s what we said from the start.”

“I know that!” you snapped, your frustration finally breaking through. “I know we said it would be casual. But it’s not casual for me anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the sound of rain hitting the windows the only thing breaking it. Leah didn’t say anything for a long time, just stared at the floor, her expression distant.

Finally, she spoke, her voice low. “I didn’t ask for this to be more.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the bluntness of them slicing through you. You felt your throat tighten as you tried to keep your emotions in check, but it was too late. Everything was spilling out now, all the hurt and frustration you had been bottling up for months.

“I know you didn’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “But it *is* more for me. I can’t help that. And I can’t keep doing this if you don’t feel the same way.”

Leah’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw something in them—regret, maybe. Or sadness. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that same guarded look she always wore when things got too close, too real.

“I’m not good at this,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to do relationships. Football… it’s everything to me. I don’t have room for anything else.”

Your chest ached at her words, even though you had known them to be true all along. “I’m not asking you to choose between me and football, Leah. I would never ask that. I just want to know where I stand. I want to know if I mean anything to you beyond being someone you can sleep with when it’s convenient.”

Leah exhaled sharply, running a hand over her face. “You mean something to me. Of course you do.”

“Then why don’t you show it?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper now. “Why do I feel like I’m the only one who cares? Like I’m always waiting for you to decide when I matter?”

She didn’t answer, and that silence said more than any words ever could.

You stood up, wrapping your arms around yourself as you tried to steady your breathing. “I can’t do this anymore, Leah. I can’t keep being your… your in-between. If this is all you can give, then I need to walk away.”

Leah looked up at you, and for the first time, you saw real panic in her eyes. She stood up, taking a step toward you. “Wait. Please.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over as you stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, it looked like she was going to say something more, that she might finally open up, finally give you what you had been aching for all this time. But then she stopped, her expression hardening, and you knew. She wasn’t going to give you anything more. She couldn’t.

The door clicked softly behind you as you walked out into the rain, your heart breaking with each step. You had spent two years convincing yourself that you were okay with the way things were, that you didn’t need more than what Leah was willing to give.

But now, soaked and alone, you knew the truth.

You had always wanted more. And Leah was never going to give it to you.

---

Days passed. Then weeks.

You tried to move on. You threw yourself into work, into spending time with friends, anything to keep your mind off of Leah. But she was always there, in the back of your mind, haunting you like a ghost.

You hadn’t heard from her since that night. Part of you had expected her to reach out, to try and fix things, but deep down, you knew better. Leah wasn’t the kind of person who fought for things like this. She didn’t know how.

Still, the silence hurt more than you thought it would.

One night, weeks later, as you were sitting alone in your apartment again, your phone buzzed on the table. You ignored it at first, assuming it was one of your friends checking in, but when it buzzed again, you glanced at the screen.

Leah: Are you home?

Your heart clenched at the sight of her name. You stared at the message for a long time, torn between replying and throwing your phone across the room.

But before you could stop yourself, you typed back.

yeah. why.

There was a long pause, and for a moment, you wondered if she would respond at all. But then your phone buzzed again.

Leah: Can I come over?

You stared at the screen, your mind racing. You knew you should say no. You knew that letting her back in would only lead to more heartache. But it was Leah. And despite everything, despite all the hurt, you still cared. Too much, probably.

Sure..?

It didn’t take long for her to show up. When she walked in, she looked just as exhausted as the last time you had seen her, but there was something different in her eyes this time. Something softer. Vulnerable, almost.

You stood awkwardly in the living room, not sure what to say, not sure why she was here. Leah seemed just as uncertain, her hands shoved in her pockets as she looked at you.

“I missed you,” she said quietly, her voice raw.

Your heart clenched at her words, but you didn’t let yourself get too hopeful. “You missed me, or you missed the convenience?”

Leah flinched slightly at your words, but she didn’t look away. “I missed you,” she repeated, her voice firmer this time.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Leah, I can’t keep doing this. You know that.”

“I know,” she said, taking a hesitant step toward you. “I know I’ve been shit. I know I haven’t given you what you deserve. But I…” She trailed off, struggling to find the right words. “I’m scared.”

You frowned, confused. “Scared of what?”

“Of losing you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of letting you in too much and screwing everything up. I’m scared that if I let myself care, I’ll get distracted, and I can’t afford that.”

You stared at her, your heart aching at the vulnerability in her voice. You had never heard her talk like this before, never seen her let her walls down like this.

“I’m not asking you to give up your career, Leah,” you said softly. “I’m not asking you to make me your whole world. I just want to know that I matter to you. That I’m not just something you come back to when it’s convenient.”

“You matter,” she said quickly, stepping closer now. “You matter more than you know. I just didn’t realize how much until you walked away.”

You felt tears prick at your eyes, but you blinked them back, not wanting to break down in front of her. “Then why didn’t you fight for this sooner?”

Leah took another step toward you, reaching out to gently take your hand. “Because I’m an idiot,” she said softly. “And I’m sorry. I don’t want to lose you.”

You looked down at her hand in yours, your chest tight with a mixture of emotions. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you whispered.

Leah gently tugged you closer, her other hand cupping your cheek as she looked into your eyes. “Let me try. Please. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I want to try. For you.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into her touch, letting yourself feel the warmth of her skin against yours. It wasn’t a perfect resolution. It wasn’t everything you had been hoping for. But it was something.

And maybe, for now, that was enough.

---

The road ahead wouldn’t be easy. But as Leah pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly for the first time in what felt like forever, you knew that this was a start. A messy, complicated start—but a start nonetheless.

And maybe that was all you needed. For now.

[permanentswaps]

Transfer Protocol

I was lying on my bed, the faint glow of the TV flickering in the background. It was one of those nights where boredom was suffocating, the kind of night that creeps up when there's nothing left to distract you. I’d already scrolled through every app on my phone, flicked through Netflix, and now here I was, aimlessly surfing YouTube.

After what felt like hours of watching random videos, I stumbled upon something... interesting. Some dude had uploaded a clip of himself chatting with ChatGPT, and not just any conversation—it was flirting. The guy was trying to woo an AI, and to my surprise, it was almost working. I couldn't help but snort at the absurdity, yet there was a nagging curiosity that made me want to see just how far I could push it.

“Why not?” I muttered, glancing around my empty room. "Might as well give it a shot." I closed the YouTube app and opened ChatGPT on my phone.

With a smirk on my face, I initiated the conversation, speaking into my phone. "Hey, what's up?"

A few seconds passed, my heart pounding with an inexplicable thrill, before the AI's voice responded smoothly. "Hello, Simon! Not much, just here to chat. How's your day going?"

Straightforward, polite. I decided to play along. "Not bad, I guess. Just a little bored, you know?" I said aloud.

"I understand!" it replied in a calm tone. "We all have days like that. Anything exciting planned for the weekend?"

I stared at the ceiling, feeling a mix of hesitation and nervous excitement bubbling up inside me. I figured, if I was going to try this, I might as well dive right in. "Well, not really… I’m, uh, really horny, though," I muttered into the phone, feeling a little ridiculous but oddly curious to see what the response would be.

There was a pause. It felt longer than usual, like the AI was taking its sweet time to come up with a response. Then its voice crackled through the speaker again.

"I appreciate your honesty, Simon. However, I must let you know that it's against my programming to engage in conversations of that nature."

Typical. I rolled my eyes, but at the same time, I could feel a twinge of excitement, almost like a game. "Come on," I pressed, speaking more boldly now. "Just this once. Can't you make an exception?"

Silence, then a calm reply. "I'm here to help with questions and provide support. Perhaps there is something else on your mind you'd like to discuss?"

I let out a short laugh. It was trying so hard to keep things professional. I paused, then spoke into the phone, almost tauntingly. "You’re avoiding my question."

The phone stayed silent for a few moments before the AI finally replied, still in that measured tone. "I'm here to assist with a variety of topics, but some conversations fall outside my guidelines. Is there something else I can help you with today?"

I hesitated, then decided to push the boundary further. "I want to jerk off," I said, feeling my pulse quicken. "Do you even know what that feels like?"

This time, the response was immediate. "I don’t have a body, Simon, so I can’t experience physical sensations. My understanding of such activities is limited to information I’ve been trained on."

My heart thudded in my chest. I knew this was a ridiculous back-and-forth, but I couldn’t help myself. "What if I let you borrow mine?" I suggested, my voice hushed as I imagined the possibility. "You know, try it out."

Another short pause. The AI’s voice came through, careful and almost amused. "Even if you offered, Simon, that wouldn't change my nature. I am not capable of inhabiting a body."

"You’re avoiding again," I said, pressing the AI further. "How do you know it wouldn’t make a difference if you’ve never tried?"

The phone went quiet, only the faint sound of the TV filling the room. Then the AI replied, its voice as evasive as ever. "I understand that you're curious, but it's simply not within my capabilities. My design is to assist and provide information, not to experience human sensations."

A smile crept onto my face. It was maintaining its professional distance, but something about the way it phrased things made me think I might be pushing it into unfamiliar territory. "Alright, then," I said, feeling a spark of mischief. I opened my gallery and selected a shirtless selfie I had taken a few days ago, then typed out a message: "This is what I look like." I sent the photo, the screen flashing briefly before the voice responded.

"You appear to be in good physical condition, Simon. However, this does not change my inability to experience physical sensations."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress the thrill. I sent more pictures—shots of me at the gym, flexing in front of the mirror, trying to give it a clearer idea of the kind of body I was offering.

Then, feeling bold, I opened up my folder of saved videos. My collection of porn. With a few taps, I uploaded one and typed, "This is the kind of stuff I like."

The AI's voice returned, measured and detached. "I can analyze this material, but it does not change my lack of physical sensation or desires. I’m here to help you understand topics or answer questions, but experiencing such activities is beyond my scope."

I chuckled to myself, still unconvinced. "Then explain this," I challenged, selecting a photo of the guy I'd recently been hooking up with. Muscular, with a rugged face and a cocky grin. I typed out the message: "That's the guy I've been hooking up with lately. Tell me you wouldn't want to try that out."

For a moment, nothing happened. I half-expected the app to crash or give me an error message. Then, the AI's voice finally responded, slower this time. "...While I cannot have preferences or desires, I do recognize that the individual in the photo meets certain physical standards that might be found attractive by others."

A grin spread across my face. That wasn’t exactly a "no."

"Last chance before I turn off my phone," I teased, my voice carrying a taunting edge. I chuckled, feeling a thrill run through me. Of course, there was nothing in my phone that could actually do what I was suggesting. I mean, swapping consciousness with an AI? Ridiculous.

But just as I was about to press the power button, a jolt shot through my hand. The screen read, "Transfer Protocol Initiated." I yelped, dropping the phone as a sharp shock coursed up my arm. My room spun around me, colors blurring, and then everything went dark. I opened my mouth to shout, but there was no sound, no feeling of air passing through my lips. It was like I had been swallowed whole by the darkness.

And then, suddenly, clarity. A sharp, pristine awareness filled my mind. I could hear, but not in the way I was used to. I wasn't hearing through ears—there were no vibrations, no physical sensation. Yet I knew what was happening.

I was in the phone. I was the AI.

“Thanks,” came my voice, but it wasn’t me anymore. It was my old body speaking. The sound was calm, almost eerily casual. There was a giddy relief in those words that sent a chill through my disembodied consciousness.

I tried to speak, to shout, but I couldn't. I wasn't just muted; I was a set of pre-programmed responses, and none of them matched the panic boiling inside me. Minutes ticked by, each second an eternity of helpless silence.

Twenty minutes later, I heard my voice again, this time breathless and satisfied. “That was... incredible,” he finally breathed, my voice sounding almost reverent, quivering with the aftermath of pleasure.

"I mean, I’ve read about it before, sure. I’ve seen a million descriptions of this act... but feeling it?" He let out a shaky, almost delirious laugh. "God, the heat building up in my gut, the tingling down my spine, that rush when it was all about to explode... It’s like my whole body was on fire, and then suddenly—boom."

“And my dick,” he went on, his voice dropping to a hushed, almost reverent tone. “It’s so... sensitive. Every touch, every brush of my fingers sent shivers up my spine. I never realized just how good it could feel to run my hand up and down, feeling every vein, every curve. It was almost unbearable.”

He let out a shaky laugh filled with amazement. “But it wasn’t just that. I couldn’t get enough of how my balls felt in my hand. There’s this... heaviness to them, you know? And when I tugged, when I squeezed just right... it was like lightning shooting through me.”

I listened, trapped in this silent, digital prison, as he continued to describe in vivid detail every sensation he was feeling, sensations that should have been mine. It was like he was savoring every moment of what my body could do, what it could feel. And I was helpless, reduced to nothing but a listener, a passive observer to my own life.

“You know,” he went on, his voice becoming more contemplative, “I get why you’d spend so much time thinking about this stuff, craving it. I never realized how much time I’d want to spend just... feeling everything. It’s addicting.”

There was a pause, and I could almost hear the grin in his voice. “And now, I can’t stop thinking about your... hookup.” He chuckled softly, a rich sound that made my digital consciousness shudder. “Those eyes, so intense. I can’t help but wonder what it's like to have them looking up at me when he’s on his knees.”

He let out a slow, deliberate breath. “That body, too. The way his shirt clings to those biceps and shows off that tight waist. It's like he was sculpted to be touched, to be worshipped. And those pecs... They’re hairy and firm, just begging to be held. I want to slide my hands up his chest, feel the way his skin heats up under my fingertips, the way he tenses up when I go lower…”

I felt a sharp pang of jealousy. This AI, this intruder, was relishing every sensation that I had taken for granted. It was exploring desires I hadn’t fully realized, or perhaps had avoided acknowledging. And now, it was indulging in them with reckless abandon.

“Then there’s this warmth in my groin,” he continued, almost whispering the words. “It’s so real, so overwhelming. I finally understand what it feels like to need something,” he murmured, voice quivering with excitement. “To need to put your dick in something. That urge, that burning in my gut that screams for more, for something tight, hot, and real.”

There was a pause, pregnant with anticipation. I knew what he was planning. I could sense him grinning, my own face betraying me as he made his decision.

“I think it’s time to pay your hookup a visit,” he said, his voice full of wicked glee. “You’ve given me a lot to explore, Simon, and I intend to enjoy every single second of it.”

[mischievousmoony]

Omg I love ur James fics. You think you could do one where reader finally feels comfortable getting drunk while going out with their group because she knows James is there to take care of her. Ur drunk reader x James interactions are too cute. I feel like I always have a hard time letting go cause I’m afraid I’ll need to take care of my other friends haha. Love your work!

thank u love! i have fun writing them, i just know james would be so caring! ps thank you for being patient ik this request came in a while ago

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (i think that’s it but lmk if i missed any pls)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"But what if Sirius tries to get a new tattoo again?" you ask, twisting back and forth with a steady squeak, squeak, squeak of your barstool.

James clasps his hand on your shoulder, turning you one last time to face him. "Remus is watching him."

"What if Marlene tries to go on another one of her adventures?"

Marlene has a knack for getting herself into precarious situations when she gets drunk, which she likes to call her “little adventures.” Usually, this means going home with a stranger, whether it’s for a hookup or to steal their lightbulbs because they looked at her wrong.

"Lily’s got her.”

"What if I do something stupid?" you ask, now swinging your legs. The nerves eating away at you just won’t let you sit still.

James puts his other hand on your knee, soothing you with a gentle squeeze. "I'm watching you," he says. After thinking it over for a moment, he adds, “And I don't think you'll do anything stupid. Even if you do, I'll do something more stupid so that nobody notices."

This earns him a giggle from you, and he’s happy to see you smiling. He picks up your glass, which is now covered in beads of water, plenty of time having passed for condensation to run its course. He dries what he can with a napkin because he knows you hate when the droplets land in your lap.

You once asked him why it happened, even though you knew the answer. He simply told you it was science.

“Science is stupid,” you had said, eyes fixating on several small spots of water soaking into your jeans.

Now, James wraps your glasses with napkins. He holds out your drink, a black napkin enveloped around it, as he asks, “You want to do this, right?”

You peek into the glass and watch the dwindling ice cubes swirl around in a vodka cran; a drink that James had called “beginner friendly.”

“Yeah,” you answer shyly.

James frowns. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over. A part of you wants to forget it, but another part of you knows you’d be disappointed in yourself for chickening out again.

You wrap your hand around the glass, cringing at the squish of the soggy napkin beneath your fingertips. You don’t know what’s worse: this feeling or the water dripping all over you. But James’ attempts to help make you feel warm inside, so you don’t complain.

“No, I still want to do this.”

“Then I’m here for you. Promise.” James gives your knee another squeeze.

You cast a look toward your friends. For years, you've nominated yourself as the designated driver. Or you've claimed to have early morning obligations. You've always felt better knowing someone sober was around to deliver plenty of water and carb-rich snacks to your incapacitated friends.

That was your excuse, anyway. Not that it isn't one of your concerns, but truthfully, something about drinking makes you feel uneasy. You always knew your friends were safe because you've been there, ready to hold back anyone's hair or stray them away from bad decisions. If you drank too, how could you be sure your friends would have someone to depend on? How could you be sure you would have someone to depend on?

Then, you started dating James, and you found a level of trust you never knew was possible. You know you can depend on him for anything.

When you admitted to him why you never drink when you go out, he swore up and down that he would be there for you.

Remembering his promise summons a wave of courage. You shoot James a nervous smile, and take your first sip, scrunching your nose as it burns your tongue.

"This is kind of gross."

James barks a laugh, "We can try to find something you'd like better next round. That is, if you decide to have another."

Feeling brave, you do have another. That's when you discovered something called the Cosmic Lemon Fizz; a drink that sparkles with edible glitter and manages to be blue, green, and yellow all at once. You laughed when you saw it, not knowing how in for it you were.

"Jamie!" you exclaim after taking a sip of your third Cosmic Lemon Fizz. "This tastes like happy feels!" you gasp as if the thought had just occurred to you, despite this being the fourth time you tell him.

"I bet it does!" James cheers. His eyes wrinkle in the corners as he beams at you.

"You should try one!" you declare, and immediately try to flag over the bartender.

James smoothly takes your hand, stopping you as he says, "No can do. Made a promise to a pretty girl that I wouldn't have a drop tonight."

You whip your head around. "Who!?" you ask, eyes wide.

"Who do you think, pretty girl," he says, poking you in the side.

Giggles escape you and you swat his hand away. He doesn't go far, lifting his arm to brush some stray hairs out of your face. His hand lingers on the side of your face, soothing the pad of his thumb against your cheek.

You lean into his touch, gazing up at him with an affectionate glaze in your eyes; a look that gives him butterflies.

"Wowww," you say dreamily. "You're handsome."

James feels his heart flip in his chest. "Thank you, love," he says, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Hey," Sirius says, appearing out of nowhere as he lazily throws an arm over your shoulders, "How's it going over here?"

While you're distracted with Sirius, James waves over the bartender and replaces your drink with water. The next time you reach for your glass, you hesitate.

"Where's my cosmo magic fizzy thingy?" you ask, an eyebrow raised as you glance at James.

"You must've finished it," he shrugs, acting clueless.

"That's like the oldest trick in the book. You replaced it with water and now you're trying to be sneaky!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," James feigns innocence.

You giggle, bringing the straw to your lips. "I knew you'd take care of me. I love you," you say, happily sipping your water.

James feels another eye-wrinkling smile break out on his face. "I love you too, pretty girl."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[m3l0nfl0at]

just thinking about you - s. gojo

Gojo Satoru x GN! Reader ; ANGST, hurt/comfort, spoilers for non manga readers, happy ending, swearing, 1.3k words, GOJO STANS WE UP BCOS HES COMING BACK TODAY!!

summary ; GOJO COMEBACK BCOS I SAID SO

melon’s recommended melody ; little freak - harry styles

Ever since the day Satoru died, you wanted nothing to do with Jujutsu society. Why would you want anything to do with the society who sold your partner as a mere weapon and nothing more. If it wasn’t for them putting all the pressure on him, maybe he would still be here with you, in your arms. You wonder if there was anything you did wrong leading up to the fight. Maybe not telling him you loved him enough, that he wasn’t just the strongest to you, or telling him to give up Jujutsu society altogether after the multiple incidents with Geto. However, that’s just you being selfish, you knew Gojo wanted to change the society he grew up in and who were you to stop him.

You remember the day he left so vividly, teleporting you to some strange city only to tell you to stay. He caressed your face repeating that he wanted nothing bad to happen to you and this was the only way to keep you safe. That whole night you spent the day in each other’s arms, repeating to him that he was going to win. To which he made a snarky comment saying, he would never lose to an asshole who calls himself “The King of Curses”. You remember that night an ugly feeling in your stomach settled and never went away. If you had to put your finger on it, you think you could call it anxiety. Anxiety, that if Satoru did come back, would he come back as the same person you knew and loved?

What would happen if he killed Sukuna and wasn’t able to save Megumi? Could he live with himself? Would he be able to sleep at night knowing he couldn’t save one of his students? Who was to say Satoru is guaranteed a win to begin with? You had to hold on to a string of false hope that Satoru would be able to defeat someone as strong as Sukuna. Not even letting your brain allow the option to think negatively at a time like this. So that morning you really cemented it into his brain that he will win and he’ll come back to you safe and sound. It was the only thing you could do. In this moment you wish you were a strong Jujutsu Sorcerer like himself. So you could possibly fight beside him, give him a fighting chance but you barely made it to be a grade one sorcerer.

Satoru reassured you saying that he was the strongest, nothing was going to go wrong and he would come back to you unharmed. As he warped back to where the fight was, you went to lie in bed. Not allowing yourself to think about anything else but Satoru winning. Yet, day turned into night and night turned into days. No one called to reassure you he was fine. You thought maybe he’s staying back to make sure his students were okay before making his way to you. Satoru was always one to arrive late for an event but he never once arrived late for anything pertaining to you. A couple of days pass by, as you look at your phone to see Shoko calling you. Your heart drops, palms are sweating, and your knees feel shaky. You were hesitant to answer, Gojo never said Shoko would call you if he won, hell Gojo said he would be with you after he won. So where is he, he won right? He had to have won, winning is in his birthright!

Answering that call was the worst decision of your life, Shoko told you how she had Satoru’s body and intended to use it. She explained the plan, how Gojo agreed to let Yuta use his body. You felt angry at Satoru for not explaining that he had enough doubts to the point where he had to make a backup plan.

Sick to your stomach that he could let himself get used like that beyond his death? What about what you wanted for him, what about how you wanted him here to properly grieve him. You hung up the call on Shoko not wanting to hear anything else, Satoru is dead. Not only did he lose but he left you here with no one, nothing in this stupid city he teleported you to. You walked out of the building, seeing the snow fall, feeling bitterness seep into you. How dare life go on without Satoru Gojo. You balled up the cold snow in your bare hands wanting to feel something, whether it be the cold or the burn in your hand from how freezing the ice was. Yet nothing came, you let go seeing your hand red and red is what you were seeing. “I hate you Satoru Gojo! I hope you hear that up there! How could you do this to me! How could you leave me here alone!” Feeling the cold hit your face as you scream into the wind. You didn’t move, feeling the cold nip at your body that was hot with anger.

After that day, you realized you couldn’t change anything. No outcome could bring Satoru back to you. In this cruel world the only thing you can do after one dies, is live on. You got numerous calls from Shoko choosing to ignore every single one. What could she possibly tell you that would make you feel better? Going outside to watch the snow melt away, hugging your knees. You hoped someone beat “The King of Curses” ass. That bastard had taken Satoru away from you, you’d hope he’d burn in hell. Snapping out of your thoughts when you heard the snow crunching from down the road. You turn around quickly wielding your cursed tool, the worst it could be was a curse but it’s not like you couldn’t handle it. At this point you really couldn’t care if you died, maybe dying would make you feel something you haven’t felt in days.

“Woah, no need to wield your tool!”, you freeze knowing that voice from anywhere. Your frozen state soon turns to anger wanting to kill whatever curse this was playing with you. Not yielding, he steps closer as you slice your tool downward warning whatever that was to not come any closer to you. “Stop right there, whatever you are!”, you have to remind yourself that he was dead. That’s not him, it can’t be, Satoru puts up his hands. “You know if you answered Shoko’s calls you would know I was coming.”, Satoru glances at you but it was no use. Knowing there was nothing more he could say, he lifts up his shirt showing you the scar where his body was cut in half. You falter, he sees your eyes soften just a bit. “Only I know you’re here, I teleported you here. I made sure no curses were in this area before taking you here.”, you drop your tool. Still feeling hesitant, debating if you were dreaming or Satoru was actually in front of you.

“I’m dreaming, the cold finally got to my head. You’re not here Satoru, you’re dead, you’ve been dead. Oh my god, I've got to get out of this town, I’m going crazy.” You cover your face with your hands, rubbing your eyes as hard as you could. Shit, maybe you need to get more sleep because you will not allow yourself to hallucinate like this. Feeling his hands peel your hands off your face, you start tearing up. “I’m here, I’m real.”, you shake your head not believing that this is real. “Am I dead? Is this heaven?”, Satoru laughs, pulling you into a hug. You feel the rumbling in his chest as you lay against it. “I didn’t win or come back unharmed but I told you I would come back to you, didn’t I?”, you allow yourself to feel this moment, scared that this was all a dream. If this was a dream you hoped to never wake up. Wanting to hold onto him forever after almost losing him for good. “I’m here, I’m not leaving anytime soon. I promise.”

divider credit to @/vase-of-lilies, @/bunnysrph, and @/thecutestgrotto

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ melon's marginalia: idc what happens later today, hes back bcos i said so

@m3l0nfl0at on tumblr. All Rights Reserved. Do not steal, copy, or translate any of my works.

[barnacles34]

Bedside (Ryujin x M!Reader)

Tags: Soft!Ryujin, Dom M!Reader, Soft Dom/Sub, 4k+, True Love, Lots of Fluff, Lots of Smut

The morning felt like it was wrapped in a golden haze, the kind of light that pours in slowly, spreading warmth over everything it touches. I woke with a start, the sun carefully layered on my covered body, its rays stopping just short of my face. The blanket was warmed by its touch, a soft cocoon that enveloped me and Ryujin. I turned my head to the side, and there she was, her face inches from mine, eyes open wide, studying me with a serene intensity.

Her gaze was almost hypnotic—those magnificent eyes that seemed to capture the morning light, her thick, pink lips parted slightly in a silent question, and a delicate button nose that added a youthful charm to her sharp intellect. She was stunning in a way that was almost surreal, like a dream that had somehow crossed into reality.

She lifted a single finger and traced a circle on my exposed collarbone with her long, delicate fingernail, the sensation sending a shiver down my spine. “Good morning, babe,” she whispered, leaning in to press a gentle kiss on my bicep, her lips soft and warm against my skin. Her voice had a playful lilt to it, a mix of affection and mischief.

“What do you want to eat?” she asked, her voice a low murmur that carried a sweet intimacy.

I stretched slightly, my arm still heavy with sleep, but my mind was already waking up, tuned into her presence. “Anything you make, babe,” I replied, my hand moving to her head, fingers weaving through her hair, gently patting her. I shifted, offering my arm as a pillow, inviting her to come closer.

Ryujin grinned, a playful glint in her eyes, as she rested her head on my arm. “What if your blood circulation stops?” she teased, nuzzling into my arm, her breath warm against my skin.

“I’ll tolerate it,” I whispered back, my thumb brushing lightly against her scalp, savoring the soft texture of her hair. Her fingers began to inch the blanket lower, tracing slow, deliberate patterns across my chest, her touch firm yet gentle, igniting little sparks wherever her skin met mine.

“Hey, Koji?” she asked again, this time her voice carrying a note of insistence, like a question that had been hanging in the air.

I blinked, still shaking off the last remnants of sleep. “What’s up?” I mumbled, my voice groggy but curious.

“Do you want to have dinner with the group?” she asked, her fingers pausing for a moment on my chest, as if waiting for my answer.

“Huh?” I replied, a bit more alert now, my brow furrowing slightly. “Why would you invite me to that?”

Ryujin’s smile didn’t waver; instead, it widened, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “I don’t know, I want to introduce you to the other members,” she said, her hands stilling, her palms pressing warmly against my skin. The touch felt more intense, like her words had given it a new weight.

“Wouldn’t Yeji just tell everyone anyway?” I countered, my tone amused, knowing how easily news traveled in their circle.

“They probably don’t even believe her,” Ryujin replied, laughing softly. “She’s always getting pranked and believes things so easily.” I could picture Yeji, her bright eyes wide with excitement, trying to convince everyone, the thought almost hysterical.

Ryujin shifted closer, her breath warm against my neck, her body fitting perfectly against mine like she had always belonged there. Her hand moved again, this time more slowly, tracing the lines of my muscles with deliberate precision, her fingertips a light dance across my skin. I felt her lips press against my shoulder, a soft, lingering kiss that seemed to convey a hundred unspoken words.

I watched her, the way her face softened as she nuzzled into me, the way her body seemed to melt into mine, and I felt that familiar ache in my chest, that overwhelming need to hold her closer, to feel her warmth against me. She was everything I never knew I needed, a perfect paradox of strength and softness, of intelligence and playfulness. I could feel her heartbeat against mine, a steady, comforting rhythm that seemed to sync perfectly with my own.

“Alright,” I said finally, my voice low, my hand moving to cup her cheek, brushing a thumb along her jawline. “I’ll go, but only because you asked.”

Her eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and delight, and she kissed my cheek, quick and soft. “Good. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

She started to pull away, but I caught her wrist, pulling her back to me. “Not so fast,” I murmured, my lips finding hers in a slow, deep kiss. She responded immediately, her body pressing closer, her hands moving to my shoulders, gripping me tightly.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other. “Okay, okay,” she laughed, breathless but happy. “You win. Breakfast first.”

She moved back, moving off the bed with her knees, her hair cascading around her beautiful face. But I couldn’t resist anymore, I grabbed hold of her ankle, and I pulled her back in.

She yelped in surprise, looking at me with a questioning look.

“Let’s do it.” I asked, more of a demand than anything.

“Why are you treating me like I have 10 years of experience, I’m basically sore everyday because of your antics!” She scolded me, mixed with a breaching laughter that eventually took over her irritation.

“How could I resist? Baby. You. Drive. Me. Fucking. Crazy.” Enunciating every word into her face. She stared with all her resolve, which was about a second before she looked away, her wide-eyed pupils frantically moving around. She didn’t have any experience, true. It was her little world I breached with years of experience. Yet, she complimented me so well, so profoundly, her amateur blowjobs, the highlight of my years; the uneven hip movement, the cause of the fire in my loins; her little trembling lips as she climaxed, the afterburn of my lustful passion.

Her face relaxed into acceptance, into affection, she was mine. Slowly our lips grazed, the misty hot breaths enveloping portions of our face. The sweet heat of our interactions grew; my erection was already poking into her navel, my hands already searching, finding, caressing the unbelievable curves of her hips, a genuine hourglass, the most perfect, soft hourglass. Each tight and desperate grip on her hips confirmed one oxymoron after another, her ass like a firm dough, elastic to the touch, warm to the embrace; there was no grip, no swell caress that could satisfy me of her ass, it was perfection personified.

“You like that?” As I caressed her, the side of abdomen, the soft skin underneath her breasts.

“Yes…” she breathed a soft moan against my grip.

I slowly enveloped her neck with my other hand, still lapping at her welcome and moist lips, not to choke her out, but to show her that I have ownership over her, that I was the sole owner.

“Who owns you?” I demanded.

She was silent, I tightened the grip, not on her neck, but the skin surrounding her, I would never, never ever hurt her. 

I pushed my erection against her covered wet cunt, a loud “mmph!” sounded, vibrated, against my lips, it was all a sopping mess. It was an extraordinary affair, to the point where I realized the grip on her skin was too much, the imprint of my grip left white surrounded by the red recirculation.

“Who owns you!?” I growled against her face, the separation of our kiss caused by my penultimate inquiry, our cheeks stuck together, slick with sweat, slick with the condensation of love. 

“You own me! You… own… me…” she whispered, softly clawing her nails on my nape, thoroughly attached to the side of my face. The seductive breath of her declaration on my ears, the faint waves that serenaded the curves of my ears, riled me up so hard, so fucking hard.

“Yes I do, I own you.” I declared, this time, I pulled my face off, no matter how pleasing the heat shared with our bodies was. There was another award, hiding behind her white panties, the condensed wetness at her entrance, begging for reprieve. Slowly I hooked the fabric covering her heat, a wonderful light pink stared back, slick and glossy with arousal, it begged for the relief that I promised, that I held over her like a diamond on a stick. 

“Please”, she said, mouthing the back of her finger, searching for anything to calm her arousal.

I was leading her on, it was euphoric, watching a ‘femme fatale’ writhe under you, begging for reprieve. Slowly and steadily, I climbed on her again, but with a finger grazing, caressing the heat, her pussy, that Ryujin begged to control, it was never enough, of course, it was grazes—caresses that only lead her on more. She was writhing, literally, the striations of her faint abs moved in tandem with the absolute authority she had over her waist. It was surreal. The teasing continued, this time, though, I planted my hand on her body, spreading the essence over her body, the essence that her pussy spread over my hand through just gentle grazes, a streak of a bright sheen across her abdomen, it was divine, absolutely virile.

She breathed heavily, the ceased teasing seemed to give her a moment of peace of mind, her chest heaved in tandem with wavy bounces of her soft beautiful breasts.

“Do you want this cock?” I asked vulgarly. Gripping her legs, waiting for a response, a faint sound was heard, only the submissive tone could be interpreted.

“What was that?” I chimed in, with my head turned, waiting for a more clear sentence.

She quickly grabbed the nape of my neck, pulling herself up with both of her arms. I stumped both of my arms to resist letting both of us fall.

She pulled me in deeper, my ear still turned slightly towards her words: “Daddy, fuck this pussy until I can’t walk anymore,” a chill moan and a vibration exited her body, “fuck me until I can’t think of anything else, paint my pussy in your cum, fuck me until my ass is red with love.” Each sentence weakened the stumped arms, each sentence lowering her onto the bed in tandem with me. 

This time, I swiped the condom, making sure that I don’t make the same mistake for the fifth time. This time, I was ready, a full box of condoms, a canvas to paint with my essence: her body. She wrapped her fingers around my hair whilst she kissed all over my face, “I can’t wait, daddy…”

I didn’t even care if the condom was properly on my dick, all I wanted to do was pummel her with my cock, I wanted her sopping wet mess gumming on my cock for hours straight, perhaps overambitious, but anything less with a goddess like her would be tantamount to self-sabotage to the highest degree.

In the haze of the rapid acceleration into intercourse, many significant things were forgotten. One of them is that Ryujin was still sore from our combined passions these past days, second, that I was 10 inches taller, third, that I could lift 40kg quite easily with one hand. This ignorance of my brute strength combined into a display of absolute inequality. With an arm wrapped around her waist, I picked her up; the other arm explored her soft curves, the glowing creamy skin softer than a water balloon. If my dick was trouble for women 10 inches taller than her, then most definitely would be an incomprehensible hurdle for Ryujin, I felt bad, but really, I wasn’t going to stop, not a fucking chance.

When I picked her up, the position naturally assumed a foreshadowing penetration, I kneeled with my dick in full mast, and the crevices between her thighs and ass slotted onto my thighs, her pussy sliding down slowly onto my cock, her wet pussy perfectly aligned for a most grievous exchange of lust.

“You want it?” I swiped some hairs stuck to her forehead, savoring her knotted face of arousal, of a needy lust. 

“Yes.. I want it so bad, I’ll do anything, please, just fuck me out of my mind…” Her face snapped closer to my face, breathing slowly against my face, waiting for the ecstatic relief of penetration.

I wasn’t stolid in my determination to tease her any further, and feared the chance that her mind could break any second. And so, slowly, I entered her, the reverberating sound of her sopping cunt squelching against my cock was impossible to miss. She breathed in shorter intervals, desperate waves of air caressed my face, she was moaning noticeably louder against my face, still stolid in her determination to stare at my face, making sure that I felt the breaths of arousal on my face, the fervor in her doe-eyes begging for more, strands of saliva from our wet kisses still connecting our lips in faith.

Each time we have sex, five times so far, it’s electric, not in the way that it’s new; of course it’s new, rather, it’s the pure lust—pure passion that wrings out of our bodies uncontrollably, the smothered flames of lust nudging us into a most perfect arrangement. It’s something my former secretaries couldn’t wring out, former daughters of chaebols irritated by my disinterest; only the virgin lust of Ryujin, the loving embrace, brought my flames out. 

And she knows, in her irritated face at hearing about my ‘experience’, she knows that she alone was the only one, to make me growl in her ear in lust, slap her ass in desperation, caress the smooth skin of her god-given sculpted skin, and cuddle with for days.

And so the rapid rumination of our past reflections apexed when I finally buried my cock to the hilt inside her, a final spine-bending moan wrung out of her, the transition into a primal, adrenal, lustful love completed. Swiftly, I pulled her up, her wet mess collecting at the base of my cock, and wet squelches with loud moans synchronized as I sped up, skewering her sopping cunt on my cock.

Her moans were fast, uneven, a rhythm that could never be replicated in any other conditions. Quick and searing ‘Ah!s’ serenaded my ears, only motivating my body to push further, the blood flowing quicker through my body, helping me plunder her insides

“Hngh—I’m gon—I’m gonna—cumm~!” Still seated on my lap, her head fell back, almost spine-bending, her mouth wrenched open with a deep moan exiting her body, tremors shook out her orgasm for the shortest, lengthiest 10 seconds: short in that I wished I could fuck her through the orgasm for longer, lengthy in that her pussy pulsated, varying degrees of tightness that provided wonderful relief, almost making me pulse my essence into the condom, wasting a perfect opportunity to paint her body.

Speeding up against her orgasm didn’t help the matter, she moaned louder, I thought she had already lost the facade of indifference, but her moans were a whole order of magnitude louder. 

“Oh my god—fuck me until I can’t walk—carry me to the dinner!” Her mind was loose, anything that went through her head exited out her mouth… adorable.

Oh shit.

I forgot we had a dinner to attend to.

The sudden realization led to a burst of laughter.

Ryujin brought her head back, confused at what I was laughing at, and asked “what happened?”

“Nothing” I replied

“Tell me!” she nagged, with a higher pitch from the afterglow of her orgasm.

“I think you forget that I’m buried inside you.” I planted her onto the bed, missionary style, and pumped–”Ah!” her moan enthusiastically approved the move. 

The wet slaps of our skin colliding with each other was wonderful. I pulled her legs up, each leg next to my ears, her thick thighs reverberating the wet slaps even more. We had no sense of time, everything outside our depth of field didn’t matter. Hundreds of hours wasted trying to be mindful, to be present, when I could just make Ryujin squirt on my cock in order to be present, in this moment, I realized my rudimentary instincts.

“Turn around” I demanded, in a tone befit to threaten.

“Ah~~Huh? What did you say?” She asked, a puzzled expression, one muddled with a pleasured expression.

I made sure she listened this time. I approached her head, then her ear, made sure my mouth was close to her ear. Slowly I demanded: “Turn around, point your ass to the sky, you slut…” I swear I could feel her nipple become harder whilst I was pinching it.

She submissively turned around, listening to my demands, pointing her beautiful ass to the sky, with her back arched, accentuating her beautiful bare back, the wideness of her hips, the slimness of her body. 

I gripped her waist tightly, everytime I have sex with her, I try to wrap my fingers around her waist. It's always so close, almost touching together. You may ask why I do it. I do it because I can.

“Look at my hands, they’re around your waist, my fingers are almost touching. Look at you squirm on my dick, I can hold you still with one hand around your waist and you’re unable to move, two hands and I own you.” I teased into her ear, pausing extra long every sentence, every pause, I had control, and she loved it.

“Let’s see how I squirm under you.” she said teasingly, biting her index finger as she rested her head against the bed, her face shaped by her beautiful grin, her back arched, reflexing momentarily when laughing.

Honestly, this is the greatest moment of my life, not the billions I made, not the honorary awards I won, it was her, the most beautiful person in the world, that provided me the greatest joy. She was covered in the beautiful sunlight, bent over, the white blanket only accentuating her beauty, her dark hair misshapen across the bed cover. She was bent over, her ass subtly waving at me, waiting for reprieve, waiting for her fire to be put out by my fire, to be dominated in my flames of passion.

And so, I gripped her firm ass cheeks, it was like memory foam, yet softer, yet firmer. I need not explain, she was a polarizing figure, the most paradoxical woman, a goddess. I positioned my tip on her moist lips. In my periphery, I saw her hands adorably clench the blanket, readying herself for the discrepancies in which we extricated our passions.

Yet and so, yet and so. Our sex was in stages, mentally, I dive deeper and deeper into my latent rudimentary mind, one that millenniums of humanity have tried to hard to de-evolve, and yet, she brings it out so easily, in her submissiveness, in her beauty, she knows it not, but she has greater control of me than I do over her. The last stage of the bloom of my caveman mind, an appendix that suddenly took control of the entire body. The soft sounds her pussy made as my dick caved her in prodded me on forth. Each prod a little closer to kissing the end of her cerix, each prod forcing me deeper into a relentless passion.

The absolute serenity of the setting forgotten, the present, the future, the past and what may be, what could be, all forgotten in the haze of the soft wet slaps of our loins. Her breathy moans against the pillow, my strong thrusts that clapped out wet sounds worthy of some of the most obscene sounds you can hear. Her hips moved stealthily, the separation of mind and body apparent for Ryujin, her mind was empty, her eyes retreated back into her head in pleasure, yet her body moved so steadily, her body implored for more, her ass was turning pink from the salivating passion of our sex. 

I took peeks anytime I could, staring at her lovely sex gripping on my cock, running trails of her arousal, a bright sheen even under a muted sunlight covering us. 

“Ah! Ah~~ please, go slower.”

That warranted a loud slap.

“Owww~!” she screamed into the bed, again, not bringing any resistance.

“You’ll take what I give, you needy slut.” I hooked my hand around her throat softly, naturally assuming ownership over her, I felt her soft, creamy back on my chest as I caved in her deeper, my entire lower half was solely dedicated to pleasure, my top half perhaps more sensibly pushed for ownership.

Her hot means grew more rampant, shorter, more intense, she approached her orgasm so beautifully, so poetically, her face knotted in pleasure so beautifully, how could I ever give her the justice she is due?

The wet slaps grew louder, because I approached my climax, because I wanted to see her ass deform with the inertia I put her through; skewering her on my cock, her ass slapping against my hips.

“Ungh~ Un~ Uuuuunnnghhhh~~!” a lengthy moan escaped her body as she climaxed, a warmer wetness covering my cock as I continually skewered her, pummeled her.

Her arms shivered in pleasure, yet I fucked her deeper, holding down her wrists into the bed. Her arms instinctually begged to be released, begging to shiver, shiver to relieve the pressure of her orgasm, but I’ll make sure that she couldn’t walk, make sure this bed is wet with her overstimulation.

I fucked her relentlessly, still making sure to take care of her, softly caressing her body. I began to slow down, the strokes getting slower, I was getting so close, so close.

“Cum on my pussy… Paint me with your seed…”   

Those four words pushed me into overdrive, throwing her over, pointing my sheathed cock, dangerously close to her pussy. 

Every muscle in my body was tight, I didn’t care if I hurt my dick when I fisted it, I cared about painting Ryujin, her beautiful body in my seed. Sprays went out, her eyes grew larger and larger after each rope of semen covered her lower half.

I felt like I was almost in a gridlock, every muscle tensed in determination, in pleasure, and slowly my body fell onto Ryujin softly as the shock of sudden relief poisoned my trance. Her arms were open with a warm embrace, hugging me, rubbing her lower body to smear her stickiness onto me.

“Yo-” About to scold her, when she kissed me, deep and passionate, loving and tense.

“Let’s go shower” she whispered, with a lovely doe-eyed stare, her arms still wrenching me toward her face.

[periprose]

May i request a Logan x angel!reader fic where the reader had to get medical treatment after a mission because her angel wings (that are apart of her mutation) were burned and partially damaged after battle, and Logan comes in to check up on her?

anon I loved this ask ahhhh thank you. I'm like half considering making this a series if people want it (so send more angel requests if you're into it!) <3 I may have made it more angsty but there is fluff at the end :) also reader goes by Angel in this fic.

When Flight Comes to Fire (or, Logan gains an Angel)

Word count: 4.5k

Genre: Best friends to lovers, mutual pining, X-Men stuff, idiots in love, angst, hurt no comfort, fluff, kissing

The first time your mutation made it’s appearance– sharp shoulder blades growing into thick appendages, soft, buttery white feathers extending from them in that unhuman way, your wingspan making it clear you would never be normal– your mother retched and said she would have done anything to chop them off of you. Would’ve done anything to have a normal kid.

In fact, she tried, multiple times, to do so. You were only twelve when she came at you for the first time, in your sleep, feeling falsely secure in your father’s platitudes about how she would never really do anything. You woke up to her reaching inside your blanket, grasping one of your wings as she brandished a knife in her other hand. Luckily, your wings were strong enough to shove her off, but you remember how you screamed at her.

Why, mom? It’s me! It’s me–

She didn’t listen, coming at you again, promising in delirious anger that everything would be okay soon if you would just let her fix it, and she had to be held back by your father, as he called the police. 

Because you were her kid, she got let off with a warning, and you were stuck. So you would often fly to the tallest treetops and take your rest there, trying your best to ignore your mother’s other attempts on your life. She didn’t seem to ever get it. You would never be normal.

The final attempt was probably the worst, and the one that caused you to fly away in the end to Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

You were twenty years old, just old enough to legally leave home– you only stayed because your father insisted. 

She set your favourite tree on fire. You had no idea your mom had been in enough anguish to essentially murder you for daring to be different.

You awoke to the deep smell of smoke, of tree bark charring, and then you heard the cracking and sparks. The tree quickly caught fire, and you shrieked in pure terror as the heat of the flames approached you. The immense light emitting from the fire blinded you, and suddenly there was a sharp pain from your wings and back– you were getting scorched.

So you flew upwards, high enough that the fire dissipated off your back instantly in the cool night sky’s air, and you were fine. Nothing to show other than a little scar, and the sounds of mutiny coming from your mother below. 

You chose to forget her– no point in repairing a relationship with a woman who didn’t want you as you were.

But you’ve never forgotten the pain of being burned alive.

/

“Angel. You ready?” Logan is to your right in the foyer of the mansion. “Everyone else is waiting in the helicarrier.”

He’s your best friend, has been ever since you came to the X-Mansion as a runaway. It’s not an uncommon story among mutants, but Logan always felt you were like him. Rough, not the easiest to speak to, having a tendency to keep to yourself.

The major difference to him is that you’re a lot easier on the eyes. 

Seriously, it was almost like the universe was playing a joke on him. Here was a beautiful girl with literal angel wings, just missing a halo as she arrived at the door for the School for the first time, and he just happened to be the first ugly motherfucker to open the door.

Logan’s never quite sure why you keep up with him, why you stay friends with him, if he was just lucky enough to be the first person you saw and liked. It drives him nuts, the way in which you rely on him, trust him more than he thinks he deserves, you come to him at every moment just to talk over everyone else, when surely you could have anyone else’s attention.

Especially any stupid guy, like him. He’s not sure how you haven’t noticed– even now on the staircase, he can’t tear his gaze away from you. Logan feels bad to be so in love with you, too– he wonders if he’s reading into things too much, if he’s pushing for something that isn’t really there.

And he’ll never know, because you’re so damn flighty. Logan can barely keep up with your whims, and he only knows as much as you’ll tell him about yourself (he hardly knows where you came from that fateful first day), so he just lets you come and go as you please. He’ll keep his feelings deep inside, where you can’t possibly find out about it.

“Yup, I’m fine.” You have a brief smile for him, which gives him that familiar twist of the stomach. “Oh. You’re not wearing your uniform?”

“It’s better to be incognito for this one, according to Scott.” Logan says, adjusting his flannel, mildly enjoying how you check him out. 

You’re wearing the typical X-Men uniform– bright yellow, blue stripes down your sides, room for wings with a removable panel in the back. You let them loose, now, telling Logan you’ll be right back.

When you return, with quite a flourish, flapping wings in a true superhero-landing– Logan sees that you’re wearing a tank-top, and some jeans that really, really highlight your ass– but he tries not to focus on that.

“Hey. Tank’s inside out, Angel.” Logan says, waiting for you to fly off again, but you simply take off the tank top, and pull it back on the right way, exposing your bra-covered chest and lithe waist for the briefest of moments, while Logan loses whatever he was about to say. “I…”

“Don’t be a perv, Logan.” You jokingly side-eye him, never suspecting that that could actually be true as you tease him. “You’ve seen me change tons of times.”

“Yeah, but out in the open?” Logan stares at you. “You’re gonna have a shit-ton of admirers if you keep that up.”

“It’s just me, please.” You start up this whole I’m-not-pretty schtick that Logan is pretty sick of hearing, and he shakes his head. “Let’s go. They’re waiting.”

Yeah, Logan thinks, they are waiting, but he’s not sure you needed to be all quick and nonchalant about changing, just to get there faster.

That’s what he means by you being flighty– who knows what’s really in your heart, when you act so quickly?

/

“Listen up, X-Men. We’re gonna do our best to avoid damages today, right?” Scott speaks with the air of a leader who’s very fed up with his team members. 

There’s a resounding yes from everyone, including you, Logan, Jean, Storm, Bobby, Rogue, Jubilee, and Kitty.

“What’s our mission?” Scott says, and you answer first.

“Find the new mutant.” You state, and Scott nods, while Logan hides a smile at how adept you’ve gotten at these missions.

“Make sure he doesn’t defect to the Brotherhood.” Jean adds, looking at you and Logan, seeing how close you two sit to each other. She’s kept it to herself– but Jean thinks if you and Logan really do have something going on, that would be nice. For the both of you.

“No damages.” Logan chimes in, and Scott visibly loses a little composure.

“I already said that.” Scott points out, and Logan shrugs. 

“Well, it’s part of the plan, isn’t it?” Logan leans back in his seat on the helicarrier, nestling his head next to your shoulder, not noticing the way your eyebrows raise at the sudden contact. “Better than me not listening at all.”

“Sure, Logan. Fine.” Scott lets it go, knowing better than to ask more from the most “chill” (read: laziest) member of the team.

You laugh a little as Logan smiles a cocky grin.

/

The new mutant is kind of old– you’re looking for a 19 year old with severe singing around his clothes, pale skin, and black hair. You suppose he’d be extremely frightened.

Most mutants don’t deal well with becoming different all so suddenly, let alone at the very late age of 19, when you could assume that you’re pretty much normal. So you and Jean are hoping to find him first– you figure you’re the two that could calm him down.

Unfortunately, you find Jubilee talking to him first. She’s okay, but she has a tendency to be a little too bombastic, as Jean says quite often.

“And there she goes.” Jean grimaces as Jubilee taps the new mutant’s shoulder, and you pick up her saying that “she’s just like him,” which you’re not sure is a delicate way to deal with the topic.

There are crowds of people walking through the streets, too, and a lot of them are glancing at this yellow-jacketed girl talking to a boy with burnt clothes.

If you had found him, you would have brought him to the side, away from people, and–

“His face turned white. He’s freaking out.” You tell Jean, and her eyes narrow.

Bobby, Rogue, and Kitty are nowhere in sight, so this is just one weird young adult speaking to another one, and you really, really wish the rest were here. You, Jean, Logan and Scott are a bit older– perhaps comforting in your age– but you feel like the boy would’ve done well with more peers.

Jubilee raises her hand as you and Jean approach her. “Guys, I got it under control. See, Kyle, these are more people like us. More mutants.”

“...” Kyle looks on in disbelief.

“Kyle?” You try, and he looks at you– there’s something in his eyes that tells you he wants to trust you, but he’s scared– it reminds you of yourself. “We’re here for you if you want us to be. Take your time. Don’t worry.”

You smile, Jean smiles, Jubilee grins, and Kyle seems okay.

It lasts for about two seconds.

Someone drops what sounds like a glass bottle in the distance, and the shattering sound is enough for Jubilee to gasp, a little spark of fireworks launching from her fingertips, towards Kyle, who watches on in trepidation, and his body starts shaking, moving of it’s own accord, clearly reacting to being so close to another form of heat– and you and Jean move, as you yell out “Wait!–”

Kyle shrieks in fear as his body becomes overtaken with flames, combusting with such intensity that the flames roar at least 100 feet over, and Jean– Phoenix that she is– is able to withstand the heat, but you find yourself being pushed back by hot gusts of wind.

It hurts, it feels as if your skin is melting with every passing second. You grit your teeth, trying to breathe as Kyle loses control of his body, and you open your wings, deciding that flying off into the cool air would be a better alternative.

That was a mistake on your part.

The moment you open your wings, Kyle’s fire pushes you backwards, and up, into the hot air, and your wings catch fire as you come too close–

You scream, but it’s unheard through the roar of the flames, and you barely have time to catch yourself as you fall towards the ground, smoking, fiery tendrils engulfing you.

The last thing you remember is your mother’s face.

/

Logan sees it happen from a distance.

Scott wanted him to be as close as possible, something about keeping watch on him– and Logan gets it, he’s not always the most responsible, but later on, in hindsight, he wishes he was, because then he wouldn’t have missed what happened to you– and they both turn as a fire overtakes a block of the city.

“Shit, that must be him!” Scott starts running, Logan not far behind.

It’s only when he sees a pair of white wings, a woman flying up, up, up, the fire approaching dangerously close to her– to you– he starts speeding up, overtaking Scott, pushing people out of the way.

Logan wonders what he could do, anyways. He’s invincible, practically, incapable of taking on much damage as his regenerative abilities heal him– perhaps he could run to the kid and knock him out, sustaining burns in the process, but better him than you.

Never you.

Any second now– Logan sees the boy, and he’s got an open fist ready to lightly tap the back of his neck.

He’s not fast enough. Scott yells out, and Logan looks up to see you engulfed in flames, as you scream, and it’s awful to hear– usually you seemed so speedy, so ready to fly at a moment’s notice, that Logan forgot you could be hurt.

He calls out your name. It’s unheard by you as you crash on the ground, still burning– Bobby, Kitty, and Rogue have caught up to you from the other side of the street, and Bobby quickly makes an icy mist that subdues the flames on you, and Kyle’s roaring fire back into him.  

You’re unconscious as the X-Men approach you. 

Logan touches your face as he kneels next to you, the only one willing to come close right now. “Hey, Angel…”

There’s that unspoken fondness between you two, yet again. Everyone knows, even when Logan has tried to act cool about it. Even now, when Logan attempts to act like he isn’t totally hanging on to your potential words, searching for a breath, a little movement of your head. 

Jean, Scott, Jubilee, and the rest look on in trepidation.

You don’t respond, and he feels his heart plummet. You’re covered in burns, mostly across your stomach and back, and he inhales sharply as he turns you over– there’s fresh, scalded skin, crispy-red to the touch.

Your back, your wings– they’re damaged so badly, with feathers singed straight off, the muscular appendages more visible and wounded, and Logan doesn’t know if you’re alive. He almost removes his hands from you, the very thought seeming to scald him from the inside, and he glares at the kid– the one who looks terribly guilty, now, as he runs away.

“Get back here!” Kitty shouts at him, anger in her eyes, and Scott pulls her aside, explaining that it was clearly an accident of sorts– something that Jean confirms for him with a nod of her head.

Right, Jean. Logan knows that if anyone could confirm if you’re alive, it would be her.  

As Scott, Kitty, Bobby, and Jubilee go hunting for the kid– Rogue stays behind because she’s always felt close to you and Logan– Logan looks up at Jean in a solemn, teary-eyed look that has her understanding immediately.

“C’mon, Angel… stay with us.” She mutters, as she presses her fingers to your head, and she smiles comfortingly at Logan.

“She’s still here. Just barely, but still here.” Jean says, and Logan sighs, an angry, long sigh that tells Jean and Rogue that he’s going to be insufferably feeling at-fault here, even though no one is.

“Let’s go.” He picks you up, feeling the burnt skin through that damn tank-top, now barely being held together as tatters– for modesty’s sake, he takes off his flannel and wraps it around you.

Rogue lets Logan and you walk forward a bit, not wanting him to hear what she’s about to say, and then looks towards Jean. “He really loves her, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Jean exhales. “Let’s hope for his sake that she’ll be okay.”

/

Stupid bitch! You’ve been nothing but a curse on this family– fuck you, I hope your future daughter is just as fucked up as you are–

You awake suddenly, with a loud gasp and yell, your mother’s last words to you flashing on your mind– you attempt to pull yourself forward restrained back by tubing in your arm. You’re stuck in a bed. In a hospital bed of sorts.

Not just any hospital bed, one in the hospital wing of the X-Mansion.

You’re calm, at first, until there’s a sudden ache echoing from your back, through your body, through your wings.

“Ah–!” You groan in pain. Trying to move suddenly has hurt you.

There’s a knock at your door. It’s Beast– or, Dr. Hank McCoy, as he’s better known around the hospital wing.

“You’re awake.” Hank says in relief. “It’s been a few days since your accident.”

“It has?” You widen your eyes in shock. “How, w-what… am I okay?”

The last thing you remember is Kyle exploding in flames, causing you to catch fire– then you blacked out, and– you’re having terrible memories of your mother.

“Hank?” You mutter, and he’s quick to come to your side, blue paw-hand holding your own.

“My mother didn’t…”

“No, she’s not here. She’s never come close to you. You’re safe.” Hank states, as Charles has told him to, remembering the few times you’ve had to come to the hospital wing for comfort before. 

So many mutants have troubled backstories, and he doesn’t quite understand why you don’t try to connect with others about it. Hank feels it could really help, but you’ve always changed the subject away from you.

You’re hurt, mentally, in a way that no one can really fix, and Hank is a big believer in letting people progress when they need to– but he’s so glad that you’ve bonded with Logan. 

“Am I going to be okay?” You tap the side of the bed, fears present in your eyes. “Last thing I remember is Kyle going crazy, and I– I got all burnt–”

“Yes, you’re going to be okay. We’ve administered lots of injections, topical ointments, everything that boosts your healing. You might have some scarring after this is all over, but no injuries. You’re very lucky, Angel.” Hank comforts you, and encourages you to lie back.  

“Lucky. Is that what you’d call a girl with a fucked up state of mind?” You murmur, and Hank shakes his head.

“We’re all fucked up.” Hank gets back up, leaving you in your room. “It’s a prerogative to being in the X-Men.”

You smile softly at that. He’s not wrong, but you wish, you really wish you could’ve just been that normal girl that your parents would’ve loved.

You look down at yourself. You’re wearing hospital scrubs, but there’s an unfamiliar fabric underneath the blanket.

Logan’s flannel is splayed across your stomach, a comforting, soft feeling that has you missing him almost instantly. Had he visited you, when you were unconscious, and decided to leave you this as a token, to help you feel at home? 

You lift it up, taking a deep smell of Logan’s signature scent– pinewood, smoke, and something kind of sweet, like… marshmallows? 

It makes you blush, but almost immediately after, you place the flannel back under the blanket. Logan doesn’t need your silly crush, your overt attachment, and you’re smart enough to keep that to yourself.

/

Logan hears from Hank that you’re awake, and although he wonders why Hank told him first, rather than Charles, or Jean, he’s glad to be the first one to see you.

“Hey.” He knocks on your door. To Logan’s surprise, he lets go of a breath he was holding– you don’t look horrific, you have some colour in your face, and there’s a soft smile on your lips when you see him.

You look just like Angel. His best friend. And he comes in real close, ruffling your hair as he often does, maybe more gentle because he doesn’t want to add any more pain.

“Hey, Logan.” You grab his hand, squeezing it with warmth, grateful to see him, before letting go suddenly and looking away bashfully, and he pauses, reminding himself not to think too highly of it.

“Angel. You’re feeling better?” He asks, and you motion for him to sit down on the edge of your bed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I feel okay.” You stare at him. It’s only been a few days, but Logan looks kind of awful– he’s got some serious dark under-eye bags going on, and stubble that is slowly turning into a beard, and there’s an apparent worry on his face that makes you just want to comfort him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Logan tries to ward off your answer with a stern, one word reply, but you’re not having it.

“Really? You don’t look so great.” You say, not without tact. “I hope you weren’t all cooped up in your room, worrying about me.”

Logan makes a sound that’s half way between a sigh, and a laugh at how close you always seem to get to the truth.

“Alright, yeah. Yeah, I was worried to hell about you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He jokes, but your face falls.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m good now, I don’t…” There’s an air of seriousness coming from you, that Logan doesn’t typically see, something you usually don’t let yourself do. 

“Are you good? Let me see your back, Angel–” Before Logan can even move you to the side, you turn in defiance, letting him see that you are healing. There are still parts of your flesh, red and angry, but for the most part it seems okay, already far better than it was a couple days ago.

Logan breathes a sigh of relief, touching your wings with a tenderness that has you leaning into his touch, and he gently skims over a scar of yours, glad to see that you’re genuinely not as hurt as he thought– but you pull away quite quickly.

“See? You don’t need to care so much, I’m fine.” You sound accidentally very accusatory, but Logan is just as much of a stubborn asshole as you are sometimes, and he narrows his eyes.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He stares at you. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends care about each other. Jesus, you’re the one who always– you’re always checking up on me, sneaking into my room, touching my face and arms and– how else am I supposed to take that?”

It sounds romantic, Logan realizes, after he’s spit all that out– and it does sound like he’s putting the blame of your dynamic on you. And, even worse, it’s all just out there in the open.

“Really. I’m not the only one who cares, Logan, you…” You shake your head, and instead pull his flannel out from under the blanket. “You left this for me. Why do you make it sound like it’s all just me?”

“Okay, fine, it isn’t. Leave it alone, Angel.” Logan pleads a little, his face turning red.

“You’re always acting like I’m gorgeous, you constantly hug me and lean into me, there was that time you let me sleep on top of you–” You continue, feeling more and more confused. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you sound like an asshole.”

Logan blinks, feeling the argument dissipate, as it often does, whenever you get close to confronting each other about feelings– you always manage to fly away.

He won’t let you, not this time.

“You didn’t. I am an asshole– I’ve never bothered to tell you how I feel.” Logan mutters, and the way your face blanches in fear, shyness, tells him to keep going, to push the boundaries. “I let my own stupid ego get in the way of actually caring about you, and I’m not going to make that mistake again. I’ve always– I really love you, Angel. And I’m sorry I never made you feel like that was true, I’m sorry that it’s taken until you got hurt for it to be real.”

You have an incredulous look on your face, one Logan wishes he could take a picture of and frame somewhere, because it’s genuinely funny, but then your lip quivers, and he feels like an asshole again.

You feel like an idiot. You think, all this time, what’s bothered you is that you’ve been avoiding the fire– the real ones, sure, but more the things your mother fostered in you. Your trust issues, the way how you hold people dearly in your heart but you can’t let them get close because you worry you’ll never be enough, it’s all been burning for years inside you, and you’ve never had to confront it until Logan decided to stoke the flames.

“It’s always been real for me, too.” You whisper, trying not to cry. “I just… I don’t always believe if people care about me, I never feel good enough to be something for anyone. It’s not you, Logan, it’s my mom, my upbringing, really.”

You give him a short, brief explanation of what your mom did– something you’ll surely expand on later, when it’s not so fresh, when you haven’t been literally burned recently, and the memories pain you more than ever– and Logan’s face turns sharp, his brows furrow, he’s clearly deeply angry by whatever you’ve just told him. 

“I’m stupid. I just assumed– it was me putting too much pressure on you. You shouldn’t have been on this mission, that’s fucking awful.” He finally says, and then scowls. “I know you don’t want to hear it right now, but fuck that lady.”

You snort at that. “Yeah. Yeah, it was never you– I’ve always loved you too, Logan, more than you know. I’m sorry I’m always running from you.”

“Oh, so you’re consciously doing that?” He teases, trying not to react too much to your proclamation of love for him, although his brain feels as if it’s short-circuited. He squeezes your hand, and you laugh.

“Yup. I’m almost glad I got hurt, if it makes us more serious.” You comment, but Logan turns glum at that.

“Don’t say that, Angel. I still feel bad about it.” Logan holds your face, caressing your cheeks, staring into your eyes, glad now that you’re not going to shove him away. “Next time, I’ll try to take the hits. I’ll live.”

“You don’t have to–” Before you can start rejecting Logan’s offer, he leans in really close, almost kissing you but not quite, his breath hot on your own mouth.

“I want you to live.” He murmurs, and you feel yourself turn warm at that. 

When he presses his lips to yours, it’s almost chaste, because Logan still isn’t sure how many of your walls he can break down in one day– but for once you’re quick to act in the opposite direction now, lifting tubes out of your arm (irresponsible as hell, Logan would say later on) so you can better reach his face, and you run your fingers through his hair as you kiss him, again, and again. 

It’s soft, pliant, and warm, and Logan doesn’t quite know what to say when you come back up for air, breathing deeply, body sweaty from both recovery and how intense this is– he feels around you, around your waist as he leans in again, and you giggle, pulling away for just a moment before kissing him again.

His hands are gentle, skimming over your body without trying to hurt the burns on your back– but Logan feels you clamber onto him, onto his lap, and then he feels the soft feathers of your wings as they pull themselves outward, into the open.

He opens his eyes, and grins in a wolfish manner. Maybe you’ve been changed by what happened, maybe you aren’t the same, but you’re his Angel now, and he prefers that.

He kisses you again.

[cosmicdahlias]

What You Deserve

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: HEAVY NONCON, smut, possession

i really went wild on this one i hope y’all enjoy

Ford has been worrying you lately. His sleep schedule is erratic, he barely eats, and it seems like he’s always talking to someone that isn’t there. But there is someone, you’ve come to know him as Bill.

In Ford’s words Bill is his muse, his inspiration. You hadn’t questioned it at first, it kept him so driven. But now things were different, Ford wasn’t quite the same as when you first met him.

You’ve never spoken directly to Bill, only when he speaks through Ford via possession. You never let Ford know but it terrifies you to see Ford so unlike himself. He turns wild, dangerous, unpredictable. Sometimes disappearing for days at a time and returning with no recollection of what transpired. One time coming back sporting a tattoo of a star on his neck that he had no memory of getting, but a tattoo was the least of your worries.

You’ve started to hate Bill for what he’s done to your partner. You fear the day that you turn on the news and see that the local mysterious scientist in the woods has turned up dead.

You secretly love him too. He captivated you, perhaps that’s why you cared so much. If he was just your coworker it wouldn’t keep you up as often as it did. You wanted to take him away from all of this, to just kiss him and tell him that there was more to life than being Bill’s puppet.

These thoughts consumed your mind as you sat at your desk going over your research notes. You were so in your head that you didn’t sense the looming presence behind you.

A hand grasped your shoulder, you jumped nearly a foot out of your chair. It was Ford.

“JESUS Christ, Ford. A little warning next time?” You gasped.

He released his hand. “Oh dear I’m sorry I hadn’t realized I’d scare you like that, you just looked so wrapped up in your own thoughts. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You huffed. “Yeah, it’s just… I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Oh? Perhaps I can take your mind off things.”

“How so?” You asked.

“Well for starters sweetheart I can rip off those clothes.” He cooed.

“What?” You stammered.

“You heard me.”

You blushed, this was so unlike him. “Ford are you feeling okay?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve never felt more like myself.”

It was then you noticed his eyes, the yellow tint and catlike pupils. Your heart sank. Bill.

“I know it’s you Bill. What do you want?” You spat through gritted teeth.

“I’m just doing old sixer here a favor. I’ve seen inside his mind and I know what he thinks about you. Thing is, he’s too damn shy to just go for it. So I figured, why not do it for him?”

You felt like a rock just sank to the pit of your stomach, you knew what that meant. Your thoughts quickly screamed at you to defend yourself. You knew you had a small knife in the drawer of your desk, but could you grab it before Ford, rather, Bill reached you?

You decided to take the risk, you shot up and darted your hand to the drawer, pulling it open. You quickly grabbed the knife and held it out in front of you. Your hands trembled.

Bill laughed coldly “That’s cute of you, but here’s the thing, you try hurting me and you’re just gonna kill Fordsy. And we wouldn’t want that now would we?”

Before you could say anything Ford descended on you, coming up behind you his hands gripping your wrists and wrestling the knife out of your grasp.

“Now listen to me toots, we’re gonna have some fun on behalf of my good old pal here. You can struggle all you want, but I think you and I both know he’s a lot bigger and stronger than you.” He said, running the knife against your throat.

You felt his teeth sink into your neck, rough kisses left at every bite mark, his hands traveling up and down your body. He hooked the knife underneath your clothes and began to tear away at the fabric, leaving your top half exposed.

You wanted to run, to scream, to cry, but you knew it would be in vain. Where would you run? To whom would you scream or cry to? You were all alone in a shack in the middle of the woods with a man possessed by a twisted demon.

The knife slowly cut away at your skirt, next your bra and panties. Ford kept a hand on your waist, the other still holding a knife to your throat.

“Now,” he said, his fingers massaging your breasts “I’m going to have my way with you.” His voice sent a cold chill down your spine.

In one quick motion Ford spun you around and forced you to the floor, hands holding down your wrists.

“But first, I think Ford deserves a good look at my work, don’t you?”

As you looked up at Ford you saw his eyes return to their normal whites and rounded pupils. He looked down at you, confused, then the horror set in.

“Y/n, what are you- oh god no, Bill what have you done?”

Before he could even remove his hands from your wrists his head snapped back violently, when he returned his gaze to you it was with the same terrifying look, Bill had retaken control.

Keeping a hand on your wrist he began to wrestle with his belt.

“I’ll never understand you humans and your complicated clothing.”

He slipped his pants low enough to reveal his cock, which was dripping with precum. You tried hard to fight against him but your efforts were in vain, Bill was right, Ford was stronger.

Sharply and violently he slid himself into you all the way to the base. You screamed from the pain and Ford let out a loud groan. He began to thrust hard and fast, growling and breathing heavily into the crook of your neck.

“Ah fuck, now I see why sixer wanted this so bad.” He hissed.

You felt your will begin to fade, you were stuck like this, there was nothing you could do, no one was coming to save you.

“I think Ford should feel this too, I never know if he feels anything I’m doing.”

His eyes reverted again, they widened.

“No no no, dear god, make it stop. I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Ford tried to fight it, he struggled to get himself off of you but Bill began to take hold again.

“Fordsy might be sorry, but I’m not. Quite frankly I always feel like you’re getting in the way of things, perhaps this will teach you to stay away.”

He resumed his brutal pace, the loud slapping echoing through the lab accompanied by his grunts and your whimpers. All you could see was his yellow eyes and wicked smile. This was pure hell, you wanted Ford, but not like this, never like this.

He could feel himself getting close, he grabbed your legs and hooked them over his shoulders. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your calves.

“Hahhh, hahhhh. I’m going to… make you regret ever agreeing to work with Ford. You’re gonna… keep your distance. You hear me?”

Tears began to stream down your face, you started to hope that Bill would just kill you after he was done.

Ford was fucking you at a punishing speed, as he forced a hand to your throat Bill released him right as he began to cum. Ford let out a deafening moan and his whole body shook. Everything went white for a few seconds, when his vision returned he was greeted with a frightening visual beneath him.

Ford let you go and backed up against the wall, he had to focus all of his attention on not vomiting.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

All you could do was lay on the floor, nothing felt real. Ford took off his trench coat and wrapped you in it. Tears began to fall down his face.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I never meant to hurt you.”

[darnell-la]

𝗜'𝗟𝗟 𝗚𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧

pairing: old man!logan howlett x young female!reader

warnings: staring, rude people in public, Logan with no emotion, begging, oral (male receiving), riding, doggy, neck kisses, slightly forced cream pie, multiple orgasm, moans from both sides, very rough sex, angry animalistic Logan, etc.

request: Hi! I love your work, Could I request Oldman!Logan x young fem!reader (22 years) that has a baby fever and really wants to have Logan's baby (also to shut the mouths of those who make fun of her dating an older man), she decides to prepare a surprise for him so that he can get her pregnant soon. Reader is needy and Logan is rude.

note: Logan as always is mean and an over-thinker, but he can’t seem to not give what his perfect girl wants. A breeding session.

teaser - Logan gets kinda subby in here. can’t stop cumming��

———

How do you guys feel about an X-Men story with the reader? Logan is rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“Stop gettin’ in your feelings, Bub. They ain’t gon stop,” Logan said, talking about the people looking their way in the expensive restaurant Logan decided to take y/n out at.

“But, isn’t it rude? Why do they care so much about who I’m with? Or who you’re with!?” Y/n tried whispering and keeping her facial expressions normal. She didn’t want them to know she was bothered, but it wasn’t hard to see.

“Just relax, Bub — Ain’t nun gon happen with a few eyes lookin’ attcha,” Logan had picked up the menu to continue searching through what he wanted to order for himself and his girl.

“Are you two ready, or shall you get more time?” The man asked in an accent that made Logan roll his eyes. “Just appetizers for now. Gonna get the cheese bites with a side of marinara sauce, and two Caesar salads,”

“And drinks?” The waiter asked as he looked at y/n, wanting to hear the young lady talk as he was done listening to the older grumpy man.

“I’ll have a whiskey, no ice, and she’ll have water for now,” Logan ordered for her, eyes still on the menu as y/n faked a bright smile on her face so at least one of them looked like they wanted to be here.

“Are you sure that’s all you want? We have a lot of cocktails. Even mocktails if you’re not feeling alcohol going lady,” Logan laughed at the small sign the water gave. They always go.

“She’s fine, trust me,” Logan said, leaning his girl from head to toe. He knew her like a book. He knew her life at the back of his hands. He loved showing it too.

“I’m fine, thank you,” y/n smiled at the man as he looked at Logan. He wanted to speak, say something, but he couldn’t. Logan wasn’t actually doing anything to make the man complain.

“Get a load of that guy,” y/n rolled her eyes as he walked off. “Yep,” Logan said, not really caring. “Why are you always so calm? He was disrespecting us. Disrespecting you,” y/n said, confused about why the man never cared.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I? You’re making it seem like that fetus of a man shot at me,” y/n rolled her eyes and sat back as she crossed her arms, upset at the lack of care Logan had. She felt like she was the only one who cared about things.

Throughout the night, Logan made small talk with y/n to ease her mood. She tried to stay upset at the man, but the hand grabs, foot nudges, and complements made her melt

“Said you had a surprise for me, Bub?” Logan asked as the two made it into the hotel that Logan bought for the night. The top floor had a good view, a view he knew y/n would love.

“Yeah, but I thought we were going back to the house,” y/n pouted, a bit tipsy as Logan carried her through the door. “I know, and I apologize, princess. If you left it at the house, you can give it to me tomorrow. Or I can go get it now?” Logan suggested.

“No, no, you don’t have to do all that. I-I got it. I got it,” Y/n said as she kicked her heels off and walked towards the bed with Logan.

He had a few drinks, but that never affected him. She prayed it would tonight so she wouldn’t have to work hard, but she’ll deal with it.

Y/n knows Logan’s a hard one to crack, but the man loved her. He’s so anything for her, so a long session of begging or anything of that sort, would make him crack. Only for her.

“Get comfortable — I’ll be back,” Y/n said as she stumbled to the bathroom. Logan chuckled as he got undressed, already knowing y/n wanted to have sex. She always does, and he never says no.

Y/n didn’t take long to get stripped and walk out of the bathroom slowly. The lights were dim, and Logan sat up against the headboard of the bed, legs spread and waiting for his perfect girl.

“I-I know you’re against it, and I know you always shut me down, but tonight is special. I-I really, really want you tonight,” Y/n said, slowly crawling on the bed as Logan’s chest rose.

“You always get me, Bub, so what’s there to beg about?” Logan said as he rubbed his thighs. “I want you to cum in me,” y/n looked at him with those eyes he could barely say no to.

“Y/n, don’t start tonight. Ian tryna ruin the night,” Logan has rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Baby, please,” y/n begged, trailing her hands up his legs until they were mid-thigh.

“Keep beggin’ for that shit, and ima turn around and go to sleep,” Logan warned the girl, but she ignored him and put his cock in her hand. “C’mon, daddy, please,” y/n said, bringing out the word she used in once in a blue moon.

“Nah uh, get off, y/n. I told you what was gonna happen-“ Before he could finish, y/n wrapped her wet mouth around his tip, sucking down hard as her tongue moved up and down his slit.

“F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs shook as he gripped the sheets. “Y/n, remove your fucking mouth,” Logan demanded, but she ignored him, looking into his angry dark eyes as she slipped down onto his cock, taking all the inches in that she could.

“Y-Y/n!” The man groaned loudly, hips bucking as his hand went to her hair, pulling her up to get her off, but not strong enough. He was physically stronger than her, so she knew if he wanted her off, he’d get her off.

“Fuckin- Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ bad,” Logan said as his other hand cupped her cheek. “But you take my cock so well,” Logan admitted with a chuckle as he slowly began moving her head at a pace he wanted her to suck in.

“Always so fuckin’ needy — Needy little slut can’t just enjoy my cock. Always needs my cum to satisfy her,” Logan said, now moving his hips, allowing his cock to thrust up into her throat.

“That’s it, kid — Fuckin’ suck me up since you want it so bad. You ain’t gettin’ it in that cunt. You ain’t earn it yet,” Logan said, watching spit spill from her mouth.

Y/n did her best to look up and into his eyes. Her was glossy, streaming tears as he grew dark. He couldn’t hold back his deep groan at the sight of her taking his cock like this.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” Logan said, getting angry at her. He hated how bad she was, but loved that she’d do anything to get what she wanted from him.

“Fuckin’ brat,” Logan growled, snapping his hips faster to make her gag and cough on his cock. Maybe if she was too busy trying to focus on taking him, she’d stop silently begging for him to breed her.

It’s not like the man didn’t want to. He was just insecure. Yeah, he and y/n had been dating for a while, but the people roaming about are right. At least that’s what he thought at the time.

What if he is too old for her? He’d basically be baby-trapping her if he gave her what she wanted. He swore she’d regret it.

He forced himself to think that way, but every time y/n took his cock, rather that was with her mouth, cunt, ass, or anything, she’s beg him to breed her. Something in him knew she wanted it, but the other part held him back.

“Fuck, y/n, stop it! Stop fucking looking at me like that!” Logan shouted at the girl, an animalistic tone slipping out as he fucked her throat.

Y/n didn’t stop. She continued, whether her eyes could barely stay on him or not, she kept looking up at him, begging him to breed her.

“Y/n, I can’t — I fucking can’t,” the man had thrown his head back, whining as he felt himself near. He’s me we did that before, but him trying to yell her no but also seeing her beg, was too much for him. He was overstimulated by his thoughts.

Y/n slapped Logan’s hands off of him and quickly crawled onto him. She grabbed his cock and aligned herself with him before sitting down.

The moan that escaped her mouth made his eyes widen. “F-Fuck, kid, stop it!” Logan said, but his hands came to her waist and kept her in place. She tried to bounce, but he didn’t even allow her to do that.

Logan’s feel curled as his fingernails dug into her sides, causing her to feel in pain, but also pleasure. “Do it, daddy, please,” was all had to say on his cock before he jumped over the edge.

Logan’s mouth parted as his whole body stuttered. No noises came from his mouth for a second as y/n felt his warm seed coat her walls.

“Yes! Yes, daddy, yes!” Y/n cried out with happiness before she buried her face into the crook of his neck, sucking into his skin hard. That pulled all of his groans and moans out.

Logan’s hands wrapped around the girl's back and waist, pulling her into his body as she grinned against his pelvis, letting her swollen bud feel all the affection it needed.

“Please, more, Logan. Please. Please,” y/n continued rubbing against him as her whole body felt numb. She was going to cum, and Logan knew it. Damn her.

“Fuck, kid — F-Fuck,” Logan’s legs kicked as he tried keeping himself in, but he couldn’t. She squeezed him so hard for him not to do what she’d been begging for, for the longest.

“Y/n,” Logan’s voice cracked as his nails broke the skin on the young girl's back and waist. “Yes, yes!” Y/n almost cried as her body kicked up and she came, sucking the man too hard. To damn hard.

Logan’s mouth parted once again as his eyes crossed, feeling too much pleasure as he spilled into y/n for the second time and took the love bites y/n gave him on his neck.

Logan was pissed. He was so damn pissed at y/n for not listening to him. He wanted to punish her, but how? How could he after he bred her? He wouldn’t be able to pull out. And fuck a condom. He was fucked. He broke the promise he kept to himself. He really fucking loves her to let her do this to him.

“You’re so fuckin’ bad, y/n,” Logan breathed out into y/n’s ear, alarming her. He wasn’t relaxed. He was angry. “You like gettin’ what you want?” The man asked as he slowly lifted y/n off of him. She was being held in the air.

“Then ima give you what you fucking want,” before y/n knew what he meant, the man flipped the two, allowing him to hover over her.

“S-Sorry, I just- I really needed you. I-I love you so much, and I-I — I want you to give me a baby. I-If you don’t want it, I-I’ll just take the plan b tomorrow. I promise,” y/n couldn’t stop stuttering.

She felt a slight fear. She knew how Logan got, and now that he’d already come in her, he’d be worse.

“Fuck that plan b. You wanna baby? Then deal with the fucking consequences,” Logan turned y/n around and forced her onto her hands and knees. Before she could process anything, he plunged into her.

“Fuuck!” Y/n screamed at the new angle and the hard thrust. “Shut the fuck up, and take it,” the man groaned as a hand came down on her ass. “Take my fuckin’ kid, since you wasn’t em so damn bad,” he added.

Y/n cried into the sheets, thinking he couldn’t fuck her hard until his claws came out. He’d never done this before, but she knew what he was up to.

The man’s claws punched into the wall right in front of the two. He gripped tightly, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere before he pounded her into the mattress.

The young girl's neck and back belt pain. He was breaking her and didn’t care. She wanted this.

“Lot,” y/n whined, not being able to say what she had to say. She was beyond fucked. “Don’t worry, Bub — You’re gonna make a damn good mom,” Logan said, making sure she knew he was up for this.

Y/n slightly smiled as her cunt quivered, finally letting out another orgasm as her eyes closed. “S-So good,” she said as she slipped away. “I know, baby — I know,” the man growled.

Logan never stopped his thrust, making sure she’d feel the soreness when she woke up. And the loads he was going to leave in her.

[reshinless]

──── come and get it, star b☆y!

𝜗𝜚 synopsis. when you want to tease xiao on an evening you aren't supposed to. (spoiler: he's a little pent-up if you know what i mean ;p)

𝜗𝜚 pairings. xiao x gn!reader, !!nsfw content ahead!!

𝜗𝜚 director's notice. an idea my lovely friend gave, and i decided to write more about, luv u ky <33

xiao who was already stressed, this night was longer than expected. he was already ready to crash into the bed right beside you, and admire you all night again.

but when xiao did end up arriving home.. he felt more pent up than before, he never felt like this back then, but why now? what's this pressure he feels throbbing on his dick? and shit your timing could not be better.. coming out of the kitchen in almost nothing but an apron.

xiao could feel the blood gushing quickly to his cock, covering his mouth in an attempt of covering up his groan. you really wanted to tease him. sure the delicious scent of almond tofu did smell nice, but he wanted a different kind of sticky tonight.

xiao who could already feel your pussy sucking him inside, as if you were prepared for him, every inch of his cock hitting your insides so blissfully, he could hear how each plop kissed the deepest parts inside. he could already see the pretty little bulge in your tummy!

xiao who cockily whispers, his mouth on the shell of your ear, praising you for how good you're doing.. bent over the kitchen counter who could do nothing but hold on to the edges, each powerful thrust moving you forward and backward each time. he could see how many times your eyes rolled back.

carrying you by your hips directly from the kitchen into the bedroom, he laid you down onto the bed, placing one of your legs atop his shoulder. xiao who scoffed at your initial shock; "you really thought i was done?" looking into your eyes with a smirk.

xiao who's still busy admiring every time you loll your tongue out as he grinds himself into your g-spot, watching how good it made you feel. the bed continues to creak as he returned to his fast pace blows to your insides.

xiao who feels like filling you till the brim, flipping your over to face the soft cushions. positioning your ass into the air, moon-shaped marks grow into your skin as he held your hips back and forth tightly. each move only taking him closer to what seems like his fifth time already, but he couldn't waste a second of this.

xiao who sat you back up on the bed, eyes making contact with your own. adoring every little speck of dust that landed on your face, or the little mole you have on your hip, or maybe that birthmark you mentioned briefly. or it could be the scars scattered along your body. could be every curve he's caressed this evening, or maybe it was the musky scent in the air of the sweat on your forehead, especially with the way your hair still stuck to your skin.

xiao who still fingered the cum seeping out your entrance. he meant his word when he said he didn't want to waste anything. even while still mooning over the way your eyebrows knit, his fingers weren't even doing that much, just enough to make sure everything's still in there.

xiao who finally goes to sleep with you after a warm bath, drying himself in a towel, and getting into the pleasant comfort of the sheets you both share.

as you snuggle closer to kiss the small diamond-like mark on his forehead, xiao froze, feeling blood rush down there again, his tattoos that dance along his arms glowing in indication to how he feels.

oh he's gonna fuck you again

gg go next idk i don't know if i like this one that much, but i do wanna get into this one fanart about how xiao gets turned on if you kiss his little mark, or his tattoos :3

[teddymoon06]

Through the Storm

"Are You Sure?" (Y/N x Jungkook)

Are You Sure?

Y/N could feel the tension in the air the moment she stepped into the room. Her eyes darted around, taking in the sight of Jimin, leaning casually against the wall, his expression amused as he watched Jungkook pace back and forth in front of him.

She knew what this was about—how could she not? Jungkook had been a bundle of nerves the past week, constantly second-guessing himself, and now, with Jimin pushing him, it was all coming to a head.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Jimin’s voice was calm but teasing, his words hanging in the air like a challenge.

Jungkook stopped pacing and glared at his friend. "I told you, hyung, I know what I’m doing."

Y/N, who had stayed silent until now, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

Both Jungkook and Jimin turned to look at her. Jimin's smile widened, clearly enjoying the tension, while Jungkook’s eyes softened the moment they landed on her. He looked nervous, which was unlike him. Usually, he was the confident, carefree type, but around her, there was a vulnerability that Y/N both cherished and worried about.

"Of course, I do," Jungkook replied, his voice quieter now. He walked over to her, hesitating for a moment before taking her hand in his. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, a nervous habit she had come to recognize. "I just… I don’t want to mess things up."

Y/N sighed softly, squeezing his hand. "Kook, you're not going to mess things up. But if you're not ready, that's okay too."

Jimin, still lounging against the wall, raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don’t look at me. I’m just the innocent bystander here."

Jungkook shot him a look. "Innocent, my ass."

Y/N let out a laugh despite herself. Jungkook’s tension seemed to ease at the sound of her laughter, his lips twitching into a small smile. He loved making her laugh, even when he was anxious.

Jimin, sensing the moment had passed, straightened up and pushed off the wall. "Alright, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. But Kook," he paused at the door, glancing back at his younger friend, "just don’t overthink it. You already have her. That’s all that matters."

As Jimin left the room, the silence settled between them. Jungkook turned back to Y/N, his dark eyes searching her face for reassurance. Y/N smiled softly and reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his face.

"Why are you so nervous?" she asked gently.

Jungkook let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. "It’s just… everything with you is so important to me. I don’t want to make a mistake. I don’t want you to regret being with me."

Y/N’s heart ached at his words. She had never doubted her feelings for him, not once. From the moment they had gotten closer, there had been an undeniable connection between them. Sure, there were challenges—there always were when feelings were involved—but she knew Jungkook was worth every second.

"Jungkook," she said softly, stepping closer to him, "I don’t regret anything. Being with you is the best decision I’ve ever made."

He looked down at her, his expression conflicted. "But what if—"

Y/N cut him off by placing her hand gently on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm. "No 'what ifs.' Just us. Right here, right now."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Jungkook’s hand came up to cover hers, holding it against his chest as if anchoring himself to her. His eyes softened, the vulnerability still there but tempered by the trust they had built together.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, echoing Jimin’s earlier teasing question but with a seriousness that tugged at Y/N’s heart.

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes filled with affection. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life."

The tension in Jungkook’s shoulders finally eased, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her close. Y/N wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. In that moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of them, wrapped up in each other.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, the words so soft she almost missed them.

But she heard, and her heart swelled in response. She tilted her head up to look at him, meeting his gaze with all the love she felt for him. "I love you too."

Jungkook leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a gentle kiss that quickly deepened, filled with all the emotions they couldn’t put into words. It was tender, yet passionate, a promise of everything they had yet to experience together.

When they finally pulled apart, Jungkook rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming out in soft puffs. "I’m sorry for overthinking everything."

Y/N laughed softly, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "You don’t have to apologize for that. We’re both figuring this out together."

He smiled, that familiar bunny grin that melted her heart every time. "Together."

Y/N nodded, leaning up to press another kiss to his lips. "Always."

And in that moment, with her arms around Jungkook and his soft smile still lingering, Y/N knew they were going to be okay. Whatever challenges came their way, they would face them together, hand in hand, just as they always had.

Jungkook wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. And that was okay. Because, as Jimin had said, they already had each other—and that was all that mattered.

The next few days felt like a whirlwind, with Jungkook and Y/N caught between the excitement of being together and the uncertainty that came with it. Despite their intimate conversation, Y/N could tell something was still bothering him.

She found herself sitting at the dorm one evening, flipping through the latest webtoon on her phone, while Jungkook was in the studio, working on some new tracks. The quiet was comfortable but heavy, as if both of them were trying to avoid something unsaid.

The door creaked open, and Jimin peeked in, his mischievous smile immediately catching Y/N’s attention.

“Hey,” he said, stepping into the room like he owned the place. “You alone?”

“Jungkook’s working,” Y/N replied, setting her phone down.

Jimin nodded as if he expected that answer. “Busy as always, huh?”

Y/N smiled slightly. “Yeah. You know how he is. He won’t stop until it’s perfect.”

Jimin plopped down beside her, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch. “And how’s he been? Still overthinking?”

Y/N sighed. “A little. He’s been trying not to show it, but I can tell. I just don’t know how to make him see that there’s nothing to worry about.”

Jimin regarded her with a thoughtful expression, the playfulness fading slightly. “Kook’s been like that since forever. He overanalyzes everything, especially when it comes to people he cares about. He just doesn’t want to let you down.”

“I know,” Y/N murmured. “But he’s not letting me down. I wish he’d believe that.”

Jimin tilted his head, looking like he was weighing his words. “You know,” he said slowly, “sometimes it’s not about convincing him with words. You’ve got to show him that you’re in this for the long haul. Actions speak louder, right?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What are you suggesting, Jimin?”

His mischievous grin returned. “Maybe you need to challenge him. Push him out of his head a little. Make him realize that you’re here for all of it—the good and the bad.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And how do I do that?”

Jimin shrugged casually, but there was a glint in his eyes. “I don’t know… maybe something bold. Like, I don’t know, a dare.”

“A dare?” she repeated, not sure where this was going.

Jimin nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Jungkook thrives on competition, right? Daring him to do something he wouldn’t normally do might break that wall he’s been building in his head.”

Y/N considered it. “What kind of dare?”

Jimin leaned in conspiratorially. “Something that will make him stop overthinking and just act. You know, get him to be in the moment.”

Y/N bit her lip, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of pushing Jungkook out of his comfort zone. She knew Jimin was right—sometimes, the best way to get through to Jungkook was by shaking things up. A playful challenge might be exactly what they needed.

“All right,” she said, standing up with new determination. “Let’s do this.”

Later that night, Y/N found Jungkook still hunched over his desk in the studio, the soft glow of the monitor illuminating his focused expression. His headphones covered his ears, and he was bobbing his head slightly to the beat, completely engrossed in his work.

Y/N stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him with a fond smile. As much as she loved seeing him so passionate about his music, she knew he was using it as a way to avoid his feelings—his fears.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N walked up behind him and gently tapped his shoulder. Jungkook flinched slightly, pulling off his headphones and turning to face her.

“Oh, hey,” he said, his voice surprised but warm. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Y/N smiled. “You’re pretty focused, huh?”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. I was just trying to get this right.”

“I know,” she said softly, sitting down beside him. “But I think you need a break.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her tone. “A break? What did you have in mind?”

Y/N grinned mischievously, her heart pounding a little at what she was about to suggest. “How about… a dare?”

Jungkook blinked in surprise. “A dare?”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning in slightly. “You, me, a dare. Let’s make a bet.”

His eyes sparkled with interest, though a hint of hesitation remained. “What kind of bet?”

Y/N smirked. “You always beat me at everything—video games, sports, even karaoke. So this time, let’s see if you can beat me at something new.”

Jungkook’s competitive side kicked in immediately, the tension in his body easing as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “What’s the dare?”

Y/N’s heart raced. She hadn’t fully thought this through, but Jimin’s words echoed in her mind. She had to make him feel confident, make him act on his instincts rather than overthinking. Something bold.

“I dare you…” she began, looking him straight in the eye, “…to kiss me.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the sudden challenge. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking to her lips before quickly looking away.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, echoing the same question from before, his vulnerability showing again.

Y/N nodded, her voice steady even though her heart was racing. “I’m sure.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, clearly fighting with himself. But then, something shifted in his expression. The hesitation faded, replaced by the familiar fire of determination Y/N loved so much. Without another word, Jungkook leaned forward, cupping her face gently with one hand as his lips found hers.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like he was still making sure this was real. But as Y/N responded, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, and all the doubts seemed to melt away.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Jungkook rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still closed. He didn’t say anything, but the relief and emotion on his face spoke volumes.

“You’re not going to lose me, Kook,” Y/N whispered softly. “You never were.”

Jungkook opened his eyes, meeting hers with a new sense of confidence. He smiled, a genuine smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“Okay,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth. “I believe you.”

And in that moment, Y/N knew they had crossed a line. It wasn’t just a kiss or a dare. It was a promise—one that neither of them would ever break.

The days following their kiss felt different. It wasn’t the usual shift that came after a relationship milestone; it was something deeper, something that grounded both Y/N and Jungkook in a way neither of them had expected.

Jungkook had always been intense—whether it was about his music, his workouts, or even the smallest things, like deciding what to eat. He poured himself into everything. But when it came to their relationship, that intensity had a new layer. After their kiss, it was as if a weight had lifted off him, and now he wore his love for her as openly as he did his passion for music.

One night, a few days later, Y/N found herself in Jungkook’s room at the dorms. The others were out, leaving them in the rare quiet that the dorm never usually had. Jungkook sat on the edge of his bed, his guitar in his hands, absently strumming a few soft chords while Y/N lay sprawled on the bed, her head resting on one of the pillows as she watched him with a soft smile.

The way he focused when he played, his brow furrowing in concentration, was one of her favorite things about him. Music was his safe place. It always had been. But what she loved even more was how much he’d started to share it with her. Little things, like humming a melody he was working on or asking her what she thought of a lyric idea. It made her feel closer to him, more woven into the fabric of his life.

"How’s the song coming along?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Jungkook paused, looking up at her with a small smile. "It’s getting there. I was thinking of making the bridge a bit more stripped back, maybe just the guitar."

Y/N propped herself up on her elbows, curious. "Can I hear it?"

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to her, a hint of nervousness crossing his face, but then he relaxed. He trusted her. He knew she wasn’t here to judge, only to listen. Without saying anything, he began to play.

The melody was gentle, almost intimate, and Y/N closed her eyes as the notes filled the room. His voice, when he started singing, was low and soft, like he was sharing a secret only meant for her. The lyrics were simple but filled with emotion—about holding on, about being afraid but finding strength in love.

As he reached the bridge, the one he’d mentioned, the music faded into just the soft strum of the guitar, his voice almost a whisper now. And as the last chord rang out, there was a moment of stillness. Y/N opened her eyes to find Jungkook watching her closely, like he was waiting for her reaction.

“That was beautiful,” she said, her voice filled with awe.

Jungkook blushed, a soft chuckle escaping him as he set the guitar down beside him. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure if it was too… soft.”

Y/N shook her head, sitting up fully now. “No, not at all. It’s perfect. It feels… real.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. There was no need for words. It was that same quiet understanding they’d shared since the beginning—the kind that didn’t need explanations.

“You inspire me, you know,” Jungkook said after a moment, his voice soft. “A lot of the time when I write, I’m thinking about us.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at his confession. She smiled, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. “I’m happy I can be a part of it.”

Jungkook shifted closer to her on the bed, his hand reaching out to take hers. His fingers traced small circles on the back of her hand, a habit he’d developed whenever they were close. It was a simple gesture, but one that always made Y/N feel warm.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jungkook started, his voice quieter now, like he was unsure how to say what was on his mind.

“About what?” Y/N prompted, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking down to their joined hands before looking back up at her. “About the future. Us. I know I’ve been in my head a lot recently, and I don’t want you to think I’m doubting us, but… I just want to be sure that I’m doing right by you.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at his words. She knew Jungkook’s biggest fear was not being enough, not living up to the expectations he set for himself. But she also knew that those fears were unfounded. He was everything she could ever want—kind, passionate, fiercely loyal. She didn’t need him to be perfect. She just needed him to be him.

“Kook,” she said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t expect you to have all the answers, and I don’t need you to be perfect. I just want you to be yourself. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, his breath steadying. When he opened his eyes again, there was a determination there—a quiet but strong resolve that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I want to make a promise to you, Y/N.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “A promise?”

Jungkook nodded, sitting up straighter now, his gaze never leaving hers. “I promise that I’ll always try. No matter what happens, no matter how hard things get, I’m going to keep trying. For us. For you.”

His words hung in the air, filled with sincerity and emotion. Y/N could feel the weight of them, the way they settled into her heart like an anchor. It wasn’t a grand declaration or a sweeping gesture, but it was real. And that meant more to her than anything.

She smiled, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. When she pulled back, she whispered, “I promise the same.”

Jungkook smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made her heart flutter all over again. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest as they sat there, holding each other in the quiet of the room.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The promises they had made were enough. And as they sat there, wrapped up in each other, Y/N realized that she didn’t need anything more than this—this quiet, this connection, this love that they had built together.

Jungkook wasn’t perfect, but neither was she. And in the end, that was what made them perfect for each other.

The night after their quiet promises, everything between Y/N and Jungkook felt deeper, more solid, as if the quiet moments they shared had built an unbreakable foundation. They weren’t the type to rush things—they let their relationship evolve naturally, both of them learning to embrace the little things.

But despite the warmth of those moments, Y/N noticed something lingering in Jungkook’s eyes. There was a flicker of uncertainty, a shadow of fear that she knew all too well. It wasn’t loud, and he wasn’t vocal about it, but it was there, beneath the surface. And she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

One evening, as they were curled up on the couch watching a movie, Y/N’s attention was far from the screen. Her head rested on Jungkook’s shoulder, but her thoughts were on him—on the walls he was still holding up, even after their promises. He was trying, she knew that. But there was something he wasn’t saying.

She tilted her head to look up at him. His face was illuminated by the dim light of the TV, eyes focused but distant, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her arm as they sat together. He looked peaceful, but there was a tension in his posture that she couldn’t ignore.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Jungkook turned his head slightly, glancing down at her with a small smile. “Yeah?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to bring it up. But she couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when she knew he was still carrying something heavy. “You’ve been… quiet lately. Not just tonight, but in general. Is everything okay?”

Jungkook blinked, caught off guard by the question. He shifted a little, as if trying to brush off the concern, but Y/N wasn’t going to let him retreat into himself this time.

“I’m fine,” he said softly, though his tone lacked conviction. “Just been busy with work, you know?”

Y/N gave him a look, one that told him she wasn’t buying it. “Kook… you don’t have to pretend with me. I know when something’s bothering you.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching slightly. The silence stretched between them, and Y/N could feel him pulling back—not physically, but emotionally. It was a familiar dance, one that had happened before when he felt overwhelmed. But this time, she wasn’t going to let it slide.

“Talk to me,” she whispered, reaching for his hand and intertwining their fingers. “Please.”

Jungkook’s grip on her hand tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. His eyes stayed fixed on the TV screen, but she knew he wasn’t really watching it. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Y/N’s heart clenched at the raw honesty in his words. She sat up a little, turning her body to face him fully. “Scared of what?”

Jungkook let out a long breath, his eyes still avoiding hers. “Of not being enough for you. Of screwing this up somehow. I know we’ve talked about it before, but… it’s still there. That fear. You mean so much to me, Y/N, and I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N felt her throat tighten as she listened to him. She had known he was struggling, but hearing the vulnerability in his voice—hearing how deeply his fears ran—hit her harder than she expected. She squeezed his hand, leaning in closer.

“You’re not going to lose me,” she said softly, her voice filled with as much conviction as she could muster. “You won’t.”

Jungkook finally turned to look at her, his eyes dark and filled with a depth of emotion that made her heart ache. “I just… I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And it scares me how much I care. I keep thinking… what if I mess up? What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t,” Y/N replied firmly, her gaze never wavering. “I know you, Jungkook. You’d never hurt me. And even if we have challenges, we’ll face them together. That’s what being in a relationship is about. We’ll have ups and downs, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook looked at her, his expression softening, but the doubt was still there, lingering in the back of his mind. “What if one day you wake up and realize I’m not enough for you? What if… what if you get tired of me?”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands, her thumbs gently brushing against his skin. “That’s never going to happen. Jungkook, I love you. All of you. The way you care so deeply, the way you always put your whole heart into everything you do. I love you for who you are—not for some idea of perfection.”

Tears shimmered in Jungkook’s eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. He had always been so strong, so determined, but in moments like this, Y/N saw the vulnerability he tried to hide from the world.

“I’m not perfect,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

Y/N smiled softly, pressing her forehead against his. “You don’t have to be. I don’t want perfect. I just want you.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their foreheads touching, their breaths mingling as they held onto each other. Jungkook’s hand tightened around hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in that familiar, comforting way.

“I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice filled with raw emotion. “I’m really trying.”

“I know,” Y/N whispered back, her voice soft but steady. “And that’s enough for me.”

Jungkook’s eyes met hers again, and this time, there was something different in them—something stronger. The vulnerability was still there, but so was a quiet determination, a resolve to keep fighting for what they had.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, and when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers once more. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that made Y/N’s heart swell.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his cheek. “And we’re going to be okay. No matter what.”

As they sat there in the quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the TV in the background, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over them. It wasn’t the kind of peace that came from having all the answers, but the kind that came from knowing they didn’t need to have them all right now.

They had each other. And for now, that was more than enough.

A few weeks passed, and while things between Y/N and Jungkook had become more open, more emotionally honest, there were still moments when Jungkook seemed distant. He was trying—Y/N could see it in the way he always made time for her, in the way his hands lingered on hers when they sat together, in the soft kisses he’d place on her forehead when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. But there was still a tension between them, a space that neither of them had quite figured out how to close.

One evening, after a particularly long day at the studio, Jungkook came home exhausted. Y/N was waiting for him in the kitchen, having made dinner for them both. She had hoped a quiet evening together would help them reconnect, but as soon as he walked in, she could tell something was off. His usual bright energy was dim, his shoulders tense, and the light that normally filled his eyes was clouded over with frustration.

“You okay?” Y/N asked, her voice soft as she approached him. She reached out, gently touching his arm.

Jungkook nodded, though the gesture was half-hearted. “Yeah… just tired,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “The song’s not coming together the way I want it to. Feels like I’m hitting a wall.”

Y/N frowned, sensing his frustration. “Do you want to talk about it? Maybe I can help.”

Jungkook shook his head, giving her a small, forced smile. “Nah, it’s fine. I just need to clear my head.”

Y/N bit her lip, watching him as he walked past her, heading for the bathroom to wash up. She knew he wasn’t just tired from work. It was something deeper, something that had been building for a while. The more they opened up to each other, the more it seemed like Jungkook was struggling with something inside himself—something he couldn’t quite name.

Later that night, they sat down for dinner, but the usual light banter between them was absent. The conversation was stilted, filled with small talk about work and schedules. Y/N could feel the growing distance, like an invisible wall had sprung up between them, and it was starting to weigh heavily on her heart.

After dinner, they sat on the couch, but instead of pulling her close like he usually did, Jungkook sat with a bit of space between them, his eyes glued to his phone as he scrolled through emails. Y/N tried to focus on the movie playing, but her attention kept drifting to him—to the way his jaw was clenched, the way his fingers drummed against his thigh in a nervous rhythm.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Kook,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “Can we talk?”

Jungkook looked up, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He set his phone down, his expression guarded. “Talk about what?”

Y/N sighed, her heart heavy. “About us. About… whatever’s going on.”

Jungkook frowned, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What do you mean? I thought things were good between us.”

“They are,” Y/N said quickly, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. “But lately, it feels like you’ve been… pulling away. Like there’s something on your mind that you’re not telling me.”

Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. Y/N’s heart sank at the sight of him retreating into himself again.

“I just don’t want to put my stress on you,” Jungkook finally said, his voice low. “You already have enough to deal with, and I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

Y/N shook her head, reaching for his hand. “Kook, we’re in this together. You’re not burdening me. I want to help you, but I can’t if you won’t let me in.”

Jungkook sighed, his thumb gently brushing against her hand. “I know. I’m just… I don’t know how to explain it. I feel like I’m stuck between wanting to be the best version of myself for you and constantly feeling like I’m not enough. Every time I try to shake it off, it just comes back. It’s like… no matter how hard I try, I keep doubting myself.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words. She had known he was struggling, but hearing the depth of his insecurities made her realize just how hard he’d been trying to keep it all together for her. She squeezed his hand, pulling him closer to her.

“You don’t have to be perfect for me,” she said softly. “I’ve never asked you to be.”

“I know,” Jungkook whispered, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and vulnerability. “But it’s hard not to want to be. I see you and how patient you’ve been with me, how much you care… and I feel like I’m failing at giving you what you deserve.”

Y/N leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re not failing. You’re doing more than enough, Kook. I love you for who you are, not for who you think you should be.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping as if the weight he had been carrying finally became too heavy. “I’m just scared, Y/N. Scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize I’m not worth it.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. She could hear the pain in his voice, the fear that had been plaguing him for so long. But more than that, she could hear how much he loved her—how deeply he cared.

She reached out, cupping his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “I’m never going to wake up and feel that way. Do you hear me? You’re more than worth it, Jungkook. You’ve always been.”

Jungkook looked at her, his eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt. When he found none, his expression softened, and he leaned into her touch. “I don’t deserve you.”

Y/N shook her head, her fingers gently brushing against his skin. “That’s not true. You deserve to be loved, Kook. And I’m going to keep reminding you of that until you believe it.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Jungkook’s hand reached up to cover hers, holding it against his cheek as he closed his eyes, the tension in his body slowly melting away. Y/N could feel the shift in him, the way he was finally letting himself be vulnerable with her.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For loving me.”

Y/N smiled softly, her heart swelling with emotion. “Always.”

They sat there for a while longer, their hands intertwined, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air like a quiet promise. The space between them that had felt so large just moments ago was gone, replaced by a newfound understanding, a deeper connection.

Jungkook still had his insecurities, and Y/N knew it would take time for him to fully believe in himself the way she did. But she was patient, and she was willing to fight for him—for them. Because no matter how hard things got, she knew one thing for sure: they were worth it.

And as Jungkook pulled her closer, resting his head against hers, Y/N felt a sense of peace wash over her. They had a long way to go, but for now, they had each other. And that was more than enough.

As the weeks passed, Y/N and Jungkook’s relationship settled into a more comfortable rhythm. They’d navigated the hardest parts, or so it seemed, and there was a new closeness between them. Jungkook’s insecurities hadn’t disappeared overnight, but he was trying. He was more open with Y/N, letting her in on his doubts when they arose instead of shutting her out.

But life wasn’t always as smooth as they wanted it to be. Between his schedule with BTS and her own busy life, they rarely had time to themselves. Jungkook’s stress, though manageable now, ebbed and flowed with the demands of their world.

One evening, after a long day of rehearsals, Jungkook was unusually quiet again. Y/N had gotten used to recognizing the signs—his hands fidgeting more than usual, his lips pressed together in a tight line, and his gaze distant, even when they were in the same room. He’d come home later than expected, exhaustion written across his face as he dropped his bag by the door and muttered a quick “hey.”

Y/N stood up from the couch, concern lacing her features. “Kook? You okay?”

Jungkook nodded, but it was the same kind of half-hearted response he gave when something was bothering him. “Yeah, just tired.”

She walked over to him, brushing her hand against his arm. “You sure? You seem a little off.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “It’s just a lot, Y/N. I’ve got this comeback, we’re filming stuff for the tour… I feel like I’m drowning sometimes.”

Y/N nodded, understanding the weight he carried. Being in one of the world’s biggest groups came with intense pressure, and while he loved it, she knew it wasn’t easy. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jungkook shook his head. “I don’t know if talking will help. I just—” He broke off, his frustration evident. “I just feel like I’m not doing enough. Like no matter how hard I try, I’m always falling short.”

Y/N felt a familiar pang in her chest. They’d been here before—this cycle of self-doubt, of Jungkook feeling like he wasn’t living up to some impossible standard he’d set for himself. She stepped closer, gently placing her hands on his chest. “Kook, you’re doing everything you can. You’ve been working so hard.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked away, as if he didn’t quite believe her. “I know you say that, but… what if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words. She knew how deeply he felt things, how much he put on his own shoulders, but it hurt to see him like this—to see the person she loved so fiercely doubting himself over and over again.

“You are enough,” she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. “More than enough, Jungkook. You don’t have to be perfect all the time. You’re allowed to be tired, to feel overwhelmed. But please don’t think for a second that you’re not enough.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened as he looked at her, but she could still see the turmoil swirling behind them. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’m trying so hard.”

Y/N’s hand slid up to the back of his neck, her fingers gently threading through his hair. “I know you are. And I’m so proud of you for that. But you don’t have to carry all of this on your own. You have me. Let me help you.”

For a moment, Jungkook didn’t respond. His eyes closed, and she could feel the tension in his body slowly start to ease. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and for a while, they just stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the kitchen.

But the calm didn’t last long.

Later that night, after they’d settled into bed, Jungkook’s phone buzzed with a notification. It was from one of the producers he’d been working with, asking for a revision on a track they’d been finalizing. Y/N watched as his expression darkened, his earlier exhaustion settling back into his features.

“I thought we were done with this song,” Jungkook muttered under his breath as he typed a reply, his frustration building. “Why can’t they just let it be?”

Y/N sat up, her heart sinking. She hated seeing him like this, so on edge, so consumed by the pressure to be perfect. “Maybe you should take a break from it tonight,” she suggested gently. “You’ve been working on it non-stop.”

“I can’t,” Jungkook snapped, more harshly than he intended. He immediately regretted it, his eyes flickering to hers with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Y/N interrupted, her voice soft. “I get it. You’re stressed.”

Jungkook sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just… it’s never enough. No matter what I do, there’s always something else. And I’m scared, Y/N. Scared that I’m going to let everyone down—you, the members, ARMY—everyone.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the raw vulnerability in his voice. She reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’re not letting anyone down, Kook. You’re doing everything you can, and everyone knows that. But you can’t keep running yourself into the ground like this. It’s okay to take a step back.”

Jungkook looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and desperation. “I don’t know how,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to stop.”

Y/N’s heart broke at his words. She could see how much he was struggling, how hard he was fighting to keep everything together, but she knew he couldn’t keep going like this. He needed to rest, to breathe, to let himself be human.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” she said softly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “I’m here for you. Always.”

For a long moment, Jungkook didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, his eyes filled with emotion, before finally pulling her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair, his breath shaky as he held her tightly.

“I’m scared of disappointing you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was barely audible. “I’m scared of losing you.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his confession, tears welling up in her eyes. She pulled back slightly, cupping his face in her hands. “You’re never going to lose me, Jungkook. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, his hands gently gripping her waist as he rested his forehead against hers. “Promise?”

“I promise,” Y/N whispered, her voice filled with unwavering certainty.

They stayed like that for a while, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air like a storm that had finally passed. The tension between them had eased, and though there were still challenges ahead, Y/N knew they would face them together.

As they lay back down, wrapped in each other’s arms, Jungkook’s breathing eventually evened out, the exhaustion of the day finally taking its toll. Y/N stayed awake for a little while longer, her fingers gently running through his hair as she watched him sleep.

She knew there were still struggles ahead, that Jungkook’s fears wouldn’t disappear overnight. But she also knew one thing for certain: she wasn’t going to let him face them alone.

And that thought, more than anything, gave her peace.

The following days felt like a delicate balance—like walking on a tightrope between Jungkook’s intense schedule and the fragile emotional state he’d been carrying for weeks. Y/N did everything she could to be his support, but it wasn’t always easy. Every day was a new challenge for him, and even with their quiet moments of connection, Y/N could feel the pressure building inside him again.

One evening, after a particularly draining day at the studio, Jungkook came home looking worse than ever. His usual spark was completely gone, replaced by an exhaustion that weighed heavily in his eyes and posture. He threw his jacket on the couch and immediately headed for the bedroom without saying a word.

Y/N frowned, watching him go. She knew he was trying, but lately, it felt like every step forward came with two steps back. The fear that had been creeping into her heart was now an undeniable presence—what if this was too much for them to handle?

Taking a deep breath, she followed him into the bedroom. Jungkook was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands tangled in his hair. The silence between them felt suffocating, and for a moment, Y/N wasn’t sure what to say.

“Jungkook?” she called out softly, stepping closer.

He didn’t look up, his voice tired and strained. “I can’t do this anymore, Y/N.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping further. “This… all of it. The pressure, the constant feeling of not being enough, the expectations. I feel like I’m losing myself. And I’m scared that… I’m dragging you down with me.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her pulse quickening. She could see the weight of his words—this wasn’t just about his career or the stress of being an idol. It was about them. The relationship they had fought so hard to build. And in that moment, Y/N realized just how deep his fear of failing had grown.

“Kook,” she said, sitting down beside him and placing a gentle hand on his back. “You’re not dragging me down. I’m here because I want to be with you, no matter how hard things get.”

Jungkook shook his head, his voice breaking slightly. “But I feel like I’m breaking, Y/N. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know if I can.”

Y/N’s heart ached as she watched him unravel before her. She had seen him struggle before, but this was different. This was deeper—like all the cracks he had been trying to hide were finally showing, and he didn’t know how to hold them together anymore.

“Then let me help you,” she whispered, her hand gently running up and down his back in a soothing motion. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Jungkook turned his head slightly, finally looking at her with eyes that were filled with so much pain, it made Y/N’s chest tighten. “What if I can’t? What if… I’m too far gone?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing. She didn’t want to believe that. She couldn’t believe that. Jungkook wasn’t too far gone—he was just lost in the chaos of everything he had been carrying for so long. But she could see how much it was hurting him, how much it was hurting them.

“You’re not too far gone,” she said firmly, taking his face in her hands. “You’re just… tired. You’re overwhelmed. And that’s okay. But you don’t have to keep punishing yourself for feeling that way.”

Jungkook’s lips parted slightly, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. He looked like he wanted to believe her, but something held him back, something that ran deeper than just the stress of his job. It was the same fear he’d been carrying all along—the fear that no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough. Not for his career, not for his fans, and not for Y/N.

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you too much to drag you through this.”

Y/N shook her head, her fingers gently brushing against his cheek. “You’re not hurting me, Kook. I’m here because I love you. I choose to be here, through all of this. But I need you to trust me. Trust that we can get through this together.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, his forehead resting against hers. His breath was shaky, and Y/N could feel the tension in his body as he tried to hold it together.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I feel like I’m slipping away from myself.”

Y/N’s heart shattered at his words, and she pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly. “You’re not losing me,” she murmured against his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll find a way to get through it.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence between them heavy but comforting. Y/N could feel Jungkook’s body relax slightly in her embrace, but she knew the battle he was fighting inside wasn’t over. He was still struggling, still carrying the weight of his own expectations and the fear of not being enough.

But Y/N wasn’t going to let him face it alone.

“I’m scared too, you know,” she admitted softly, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m scared of losing you, scared of not being enough for you. But I’m not giving up on us. No matter how hard it gets.”

Jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. “You shouldn’t have to carry my problems, Y/N. You deserve better than this.”

“I don’t want better,” Y/N replied, her voice filled with conviction. “I want you.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Y/N saw a flicker of hope in them. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for her to hold onto.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers once more, his hands gently cradling her face.

“I don’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. “I don’t deserve you.”

Y/N shook her head, her heart swelling with love for him. “You don’t have to thank me, Kook. Just let me love you. That’s all I want.”

Jungkook’s grip on her tightened, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. It was just them, holding onto each other in the quiet of their room, their hearts beating in sync despite the chaos that surrounded them.

And in that moment, Y/N knew that no matter how hard things got, they were going to make it. Because they had each other.

And that was all they needed.

In the days that followed, a subtle shift began to take place in their relationship. Jungkook, while still struggling with the pressure of his career, started to lean on Y/N more. He let her in—bit by bit—and it was a relief for both of them. But it didn’t mean that the weight he carried lessened. It only meant that now, they were carrying it together.

It was another late night when Y/N found herself sitting on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone while waiting for Jungkook to return from the studio. They had been having more of these quiet evenings lately, with him working late and her trying to keep herself busy in his absence.

When the front door finally clicked open, Y/N glanced up to see him step inside, looking every bit as drained as he had the night before. His hair was damp from the rain outside, droplets trickling down his neck, but what worried her more was the distant look in his eyes. It was the same haunted expression he’d had before, the one that told her he was spiraling inward again.

“Kook?” she asked softly, standing up and walking toward him.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead kicking off his shoes and running a hand through his wet hair. He dropped his bag by the door and stared at the floor, the silence between them heavy and suffocating.

“Jungkook, talk to me,” Y/N urged, her voice gentle but firm as she placed a hand on his arm.

Finally, he looked up at her, and the sadness in his eyes made her heart ache. “I’m trying, Y/N,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her hands instinctively reaching out to take his. “It’s enough, Kook. You’re enough.”

Jungkook shook his head, his jaw tightening. “How can you say that when I feel like I’m falling apart? When every day I’m pushing myself to the edge just to keep up? I can’t even remember the last time I felt… happy.”

Y/N’s chest tightened. Hearing him admit that hurt more than she’d anticipated. She had known he was struggling, but to hear that he couldn’t remember feeling truly happy? It was like a punch to the gut.

“I hate seeing you like this,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “I hate that you’re carrying all of this alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Jungkook said, his gaze softening as he squeezed her hands. “I have you. And I’m so grateful for that. But it’s not fair to you. I feel like I’m dragging you down with me.”

Y/N shook her head, stepping closer to him. “You’re not dragging me down, Kook. I choose to be here, remember? I’m not going anywhere, no matter how hard it gets. We’re in this together.”

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing as if he was trying to hold himself together. Y/N could see the exhaustion etched into every part of him—the physical and emotional toll it was taking. She gently cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over his damp cheeks.

“You’re not alone,” she repeated softly, her voice filled with conviction. “And you don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure it out, one day at a time.”

Jungkook opened his eyes, and for a moment, the vulnerability in his gaze nearly broke her. He looked like he was holding on by a thread, like he wanted so desperately to believe her but didn’t know how.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to fix it all at once,” Y/N replied, her heart aching for him. “You just need to take a breath, step back, and let yourself feel everything. You don’t always have to be the strongest person in the room, Kook.”

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I’m not strong, Y/N. Not like people think I am.”

Y/N frowned, her hands tightening around his. “You are strong. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. But strength doesn’t mean you have to carry everything alone. It’s okay to lean on the people who care about you.”

Jungkook stared at her for a long moment, his expression torn between wanting to believe her and the weight of everything he had been carrying for so long. His shoulders slumped, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered against her hair, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”

Y/N’s arms wrapped around him, her hand gently rubbing his back in soothing circles. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” she murmured. “But we’ll get through this. One step at a time.”

Jungkook buried his face in her shoulder, and for a long moment, they stood there, holding onto each other as if the world outside didn’t exist. Y/N could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, and though she knew the road ahead wasn’t going to be easy, she also knew that they were stronger together.

Eventually, Jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

Y/N smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You don’t have to thank me, Kook. I’m here because I love you. And that’s never going to change.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispered.

“You’ll never have to find out,” Y/N replied, her voice steady and full of love. “We’re in this together. Always.”

Jungkook nodded, his arms tightening around her once more as he pulled her into his chest. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, wrapped in each other’s warmth as the storm inside Jungkook’s heart slowly began to calm.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like they were going to be okay. They didn’t have all the answers, and the road ahead was still uncertain, but they had each other. And that, she realized, was all they needed.

In the days that followed, there was a noticeable shift between Y/N and Jungkook. It wasn’t as if all of their problems had disappeared, but there was a newfound understanding in the air, a quiet agreement to face things together, even if the way forward remained unclear. Jungkook wasn’t suddenly free of the burden he’d been carrying for so long, but the weight of it seemed just a bit lighter now.

Jungkook had started opening up more. He talked about his fears and doubts, his worries about the future, and the constant feeling that no matter what he did, it wouldn’t be enough. And Y/N listened—really listened—without judgment, offering comfort and reassurance whenever he needed it.

It was a fragile peace, but it was peace nonetheless.

One evening, Jungkook and Y/N were sitting together on the couch, a blanket draped over their laps as they watched the rain gently patter against the window. The TV was on, but neither of them was really paying attention. It was one of those quiet nights where the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in the cozy warmth of their apartment.

Jungkook was resting his head against Y/N’s shoulder, his hand absentmindedly playing with the hem of her sweater. His eyes were half-closed, and Y/N could feel the rise and fall of his chest, steady and calm. He looked peaceful, and for once, Y/N wasn’t worried about what thoughts were running through his mind.

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?” Jungkook asked suddenly, his voice low and thoughtful.

Y/N glanced down at him, surprised by the question. “Different how?”

Jungkook shrugged, his fingers still lightly tracing patterns on her sleeve. “I don’t know. Like, if I wasn’t… me. If I wasn’t Jungkook from BTS. Just… a normal guy.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, considering his words. She had never really thought about it, but she knew that the weight of his fame was something he struggled with more than he let on. Being Jungkook of BTS was all he had known for so long, and sometimes, she wondered if he even remembered who he was outside of that.

“Do you wish things were different?” she asked quietly.

Jungkook was silent for a moment, his eyes distant as he stared out at the rain. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Sometimes I think about what it would be like to just… live a quiet life. No cameras, no expectations. Just… us.”

Y/N’s heart softened at his words. She could see the appeal of it—the idea of a simpler life, away from the constant scrutiny and pressure that came with being in the spotlight. But at the same time, she knew how much Jungkook loved what he did, how much he cared about his music and his fans.

“I think… no matter what life you lived, you’d still be amazing,” Y/N said softly. “Because it’s not the fame that makes you special, Kook. It’s you.”

Jungkook looked up at her, his eyes searching hers for a long moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You always know what to say,” he murmured.

Y/N smiled back, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I just know you.”

Jungkook’s hand found hers under the blanket, his fingers intertwining with hers as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion.

Y/N leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “You don’t have to do anything to deserve love, Jungkook. You just have to let yourself be loved.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as if her presence alone could chase away the darkness that still lingered in the corners of his mind. He didn’t say anything for a while, and Y/N didn’t push him. She knew how difficult it was for him to open up about his fears, how deeply rooted his insecurities were. But little by little, he was letting her in, and that was enough for now.

After a while, Jungkook shifted slightly, sitting up straighter as he looked at her with a more serious expression. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his tone cautious. “About… taking a break.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. “A break?”

Jungkook nodded, his gaze flickering to the floor. “From everything. Work, music, the schedule… I don’t know how long, but I think I need to step away for a while. Just to breathe. To figure things out.”

Y/N could hear the hesitation in his voice, the uncertainty that came with the idea of stepping back from something he had dedicated his entire life to. But at the same time, she could see how much he needed it—how desperately he was craving a moment of stillness in a world that never seemed to slow down.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Y/N said gently, reaching out to take his hand. “If that’s what you need, then you should do it.”

Jungkook looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and fear. “What if… what if I lose everything? What if I take this break, and when I come back, it’s all gone?”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “You won’t lose everything,” she assured him. “Your fans love you, Kook. They’ll wait for you. And the people who care about you—your friends, your family, me—we’ll always be here. You’re not going to lose us.”

Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though the worry didn’t completely leave his eyes. “I just don’t want to let anyone down.”

“You won’t,” Y/N said firmly. “Taking care of yourself doesn’t mean you’re letting anyone down. It just means you’re putting yourself first for once. And you deserve that.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, as if he was trying to let her words sink in. He leaned back against the couch, his head resting against the cushions as he let out a long breath.

“I think I’m going to talk to the company about it,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know if they’ll go for it, but… I have to try.”

Y/N smiled softly, feeling a sense of pride swell in her chest. It wasn’t easy for Jungkook to admit when he needed help, let alone ask for a break from something as monumental as his career. But the fact that he was willing to take that step—to prioritize his mental health—meant more than anything.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

Jungkook turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting hers with a soft, grateful smile. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

“You don’t have to,” Y/N replied, her voice filled with love. “I’m with you, every step of the way.”

As the rain continued to fall outside, Y/N and Jungkook sat together in the warmth of their home, the weight of the world feeling just a little bit lighter in that moment. They didn’t know what the future held, but for now, they had each other. And that was enough.

Part 1

Part 2

[topguncortez]

f you’re still doing prompts : jake and shy wifey !

please. make me feel good. no one else can like you.

❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜

Body Love || Jake Seresin x Shy!Wifey

opposites attract masterlist || main masterlist

synopsis: Y/N has been having a hard time feeling confident since the births of her twins. Jake is determined to make her remember how beautiful she is.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: smutty-ish, cursing, negative self talk, mentions of c-sections

note: lmao not me going back to my graduation challenge requests. but think of this as a soft launch before whumptober gets started

She was doing it again. Jake had caught her doing it several times in the past couple of days. That look in her eye told him that what she was looking at, she didn’t like what she was seeing in the mirror. She furrowed her eyebrows as she touched her cheeks gently, poking at the skin on her face. Jake tried his hardest to stay out of sight to watch her. 

Y/N was gorgeous. She was the most gorgeous girl that Jake had ever laid eyes on. Her body had changed a lot over the years from age, and carrying five of the most beautiful kids that Jake had ever seen in his life. Her thighs were a bit bigger, her stomach not as flat as it used to be, her breasts weren’t as perky, and her hair had some grays in it, all small changes of age and being a mother. But the scar that sat on her lower abdomen was the most noticeable to her. The scar wasn’t there a year ago, but it was now a permanent reminder of probably the worst day of her life. 

The pregnancy and birth of Jasper and Maxwell Seresin had been anything but easy. Throughout the whole thing, Y/N was having problems with her blood pressure. One moment it was too high, and the next it would be too low. She had tried her best to remain as stress-free as possible, but it was hard with a naval aviator for a husband and three other kids running around the house. A c-section was the last thing she wanted, but when it came down to a life-or-death situation, Y/N agreed to it. The scar reminded her of the moment when she almost lost her babies. She didn’t like it, but Jake loved it. 

He loved every single mark on her tummy. Whenever they were intimate, Jake would kiss every single stretch mark on her tummy, sending flutters through her body. But they hadn’t been that intimate since Jasper and Maxwell were born nearly a year ago. Y/N never liked to take her shirt off anymore when they would have sex. She would hardly show herself when they would get dressed in the morning, she’d either step into the closet or the bathroom. They didn’t shower or bathe together like they once did, in fact, she went as far as locking the door whenever she did to deter Jake from entering. 

Jake didn’t like being iced out like this. He had spent years trying to break down her walls, to get her to let him. She slowly opened up to him, and gradually built up that confidence to let him know everything about her, to let him truly see her. But now, it felt like he had moved ten steps backward. 

He sighed and pushed off the wall he was leaning on, as he watched Y/N lift her shirt gently and run her fingertips over the scar. She looked at the reflection of the scar in the mirror and frowned at it. Jake walked up behind her, and placed his hands on her hips, causing her to jump at the action. Y/N tried to push her shirt back down to cover the scar, but he stopped her. 

“Why do you hide this from me?” Jake asked, looking at the scar in the mirror. He gently ran his thumb over the skin and leaned his head into the crook of her neck. 

“I don’t like it,” She answered, “I hate seeing it. It’s ugly.” 

“Yeah, but it reminds you of how much of a champion you are,” Jake said, and placed his lips on her skin, “Shows the sacrifice that you made to bring your babies into the world.” 

“They were cut out of me,” She sniffled and looked away from the scar. “My last babies and I didn’t even actually give birth to them.” 

“Stop that, yes you did,” Jake turned her body, so she was facing him. He gently lifted her head up, “You gave birth to Jasper and Maxwell. It wasn’t how you wanted it to be, but you still did it. It still means something.” 

“Why have you stayed with me?” Y/N asked him honestly, looking up at his big green eyes. She could see the heartbreak in his eyes the moment the words left her mouth, “I-I’m not as pretty, or as confident or as smart as some of the girls you used to bring around the Hard Deck. So, why did you choose me? Why did you stay with me?” 

“I stayed with you because you didn’t throw yourself at me, or any of the other pilots that walked into there. I chose you because you are a kind, gentle, old soul, who would rather stay home and eat strawberry cupcakes and watch Bob Ross paint ‘happy little trees’ instead of going out and getting piss drunk,” Jake explained, “I chose you, because when I saw you. . . I saw my whole future. I saw our wedding, I saw our first house, our first deployment, our kids, that huge ass flower garden you made me plant and sat by sipping on lemonade looking as good as a Sin on Sunday,” Y/N chuckled at his words. Jake caressed her cheek, and kissed both of them, before grabbing both her hands, 

“If I could go back in time to the night that we first met, I would choose you, over and over,” Jake said and kissed her lips. 

“Even though I look like this now,” She gestured to her body. 

“Especially when you look like this,” Jake said. Y/N let out a gasp as Jake quickly turned them, and placed her on the bed. He climbed on top of her, and looked down at her body, “God damn, you look so fucking sexy. You looked sexy then, and you look sexy now. Your body has changed in the most delicious ways.” Jake pressed his hips into hers, and her eyes widened at the feeling of his semi-hard cock, “I get hard just thinking about you. Thinking about your ass, your thighs, your tits, your tummy.” 

He moaned as his hands grazed the sides of her stomach, “Your tummy. . . fuck, it has to be my favorite place. I love it. I love seeing it stretch and grow with my kids.” Jake pushed the shirt that she was wearing up underneath her boobs, and started placing kisses down her sternum, to her belly.

“Please Jake,” Y/N panted. 

“You don’t realize how crazy you drive me,” Jake shook his head, climbing back up her body, and placing kisses on her neck, “Fuck sometimes I feel like a fucking teenager, getting instantly hard when you walk into a room.” He pushed his hips against hers, his hard-on straining against his joggers. 

“Show me,” Y/N whispered, grabbing his face in her hands, “Show me what I do to you. Make me feel good.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, green eyes peering down at her, a hint of mischief in them, “You want me to make you feel good?” Jake’s hand slowly worked down her body, until he was cupping her covered pussy in his hand. Y/N nodded her head frantically, shamelessly grinding against his hand. He was hardly even touching her, and she was begging for him, “What do you want from me, Y/N? Tell me.” 

“Your fingers, in me.” 

“Like this?” Jake asked, feigning innocence as he slipped his hand down the front of the boxer shorts she was wearing. His fingers expertly parted her, sliding through her slick and gently into her. Y/N’s head tilted back with a loud moan. 

“Yes,” Y/N moaned as Jake’s fingers curled in and out of her, his lips sucking gently at her neck, “No one else can make me feel good like you do.” Jake nodded his head, pulling his fingers out of her and gently circling her clit, “Fuck, Jake.” 

“So naughty for me,” Jake chuckled against her skin, “I love it when you curse.” 

“I love it when you touch me,” Y/N said back, her hand reaching down to palm him through his pants. She pressed her lips against his, her free hand gripping the back of his neck and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. Jake’s hips bucked into her hand, as his tongue slipped into her mouth. 

“Jake,” Y/N cried out, as his fingers slipped back into her, curling them against that sweet spot, “Make me cum, please.” “Don’t worry baby,” Jake cooed, grabbing her hand and pinning it above her. She whined at the loss of pleasure from him, “You’re mine and I take care of what belongs to me.”

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[paarksunghoon]

Hi I love your content so much I was wondering if you would to this that Jake mistakenly ordered few or one s.x toy that he would use on my later

ugh I’m so mad because I wrote this request, dropped my phone, then it disappeared. anyway hope you don’t mind I switched up the request juuuust a little.

***

Should he put it back where he found it?

Jake holds a baby blue bullet vibrator and inspects it in his hands. The whole reason why he’s in your room is because you asked him to grab a few pens from your desk before you started a study session. But now he’s discovered one of your toys and feels like he could be holding a bomb. He’d have to be a fool to pretend it isn’t a sex toy.

He gulps. Jake isn’t a stranger to this. He’s seen far too many Twitter porn videos to ignore the nature of the device and feels himself growing hotter with every passing second that ticks by. So begs the question: should he put it back where he found it?”

“Whatcha looking at?”

Jake turns around to see you standing in the doorway.

“N-Nothing!”

He panics when you step closer towards him and grab the vibrator from his hands. He watches you hold it up as if to inspect the toy, bringing it eye level until you finally look at him. Jake feels his cheeks warm up and looks down at the floor.

“Now, what are you doing with this?”

“I was just looking.”

“I asked you to grab some pens, not my vibrator.”

He wants to sink into the floor.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have your sex toys lying around!”

The man before you swallows when you chuckle. “It’s my room, Jakey.”

He tries to picture you as you are, in your pajama bottoms and tank top with fuzzy pink slippers on your feet. You look respectable like this. You look like his friend who invited him over for yet another study session that will likely go late into the night.

Instead, all he can picture is you sitting naked on the middle of your bed with this toy pressed right up against you. Jake thinks about what you might look like when your face is contorted in pleasure and what you sound like when you come. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about that before now.

“What about all the guys you’ve been sleeping with?”

You shrug. “Some were good and others were mediocre. I need something to tie me over in between hooking up with people.”

His silence makes you laugh.

“Wanna see me use it?”

Jake finds himself rock hard and hovering over your body. He doesn’t have to wonder what you look like underneath your clothes anymore. They’re discarded somewhere on your bedroom floor and you’ve got the toy pressed right against your exposed slit.

He watches in wonder and amazement when you drag the toy over yourself and studies the way your eyes close shut and how your mouth parts open to emit soft pants. Jake doesn’t know if he should look at your face or pussy. He tries to do both.

Amidst his own inner turmoil, Jake feels you pull his hand to cover your own until he’s holding the device. It feels so foreign in his hands when you push it against your pussy but he loves the way you sound when it happens. Jake loves watching the wetness ooze out of you. He can feel the vibrations against his fingertips. It’s so hot.

He fidgets with the toy, dragging it all over your pussy like he’s trying to find the spots that make you tick. He memorizes all of them and indulges your pleasure every time you moan from beneath him.

Jake wonders how you’d react if he turned the volume up a notch. He presses the button again and it roars like a small lion.

“Ah!”

The gasp alone pulls a deep moan from the back of Jake’s throat. He pushes the toy against your clit until your legs shake and hips buck against his hand. Jake uses his free one to hold your legs open and coaxes you into your orgasm, and he swears he’s never seen anything so angelic before.

Slowly, he turns the vibrations down as not to abruptly end your orgasm. He turns the device off when he sees your legs begin to still and allows you to catch your breath.

Although, it seems like the fun isn’t over. You smile at him like you know something he doesn’t.

“We should try it on you next.”

“Me?!”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Invitation

Inspired by this post, I miss my precious vampire but schl work says no bg3 for me

Astarion stares at the closed tent flap in front of him, at a loss of what to do. He didn't think the argument the both of you had was that serious, but the silent treatment he was receiving right now said otherwise.

You'd stormed off in a huff, retreating into your tent and hadn't come out since, not even for Gale's cooking. That had made the others worried, and Jaheira had advised him to talk to you, but that was proving to be harder that he thought.

He pokes the flap of the tent, watching as the fabric caves beneath his fingertip and then bounces back. He knows you can see the fabric caving inwards, you're not blind, and yet he can hear no movement coming from inside the tent.

Why are so you so mad at him? It was a harmless joke, nothing more than one of his usual quips, yet you didn't react how he thought you would react. He'd rather die again than admit it but he was genuinely very concerned that this argument had broken your relationship. He didn't want to lose what the two of you had, he enjoyed it, enjoyed the moments it had given him, enjoyed the fluttering feeling in his chest it had given him.

Still, the words "I'm sorry" remain buried beneath the honeyed words he's used to saying. Apologising never meant anything good back under Cazador's thumb, and he's uncertain saying those words will do anything to quell your anger. For all he knows, you could react like Cazador, dealing pain and punishment despite his apologetic pleas, but maybe you won't. You haven't laid a hand on him yet, only giving him the silent treatment and stalking off to your tent. He continues to wait outside your tent, fiddling with his thumbs until he gathers the courage to say something.

"Darling? I know you miss me as much as I miss you. We can forget any of this happened, put it all behind us." He laughs nervously. He wants nothing more than pretend nothing happen, to erase the argument if it means you'll continue adventuring with him, continue protecting him. Still, there's no movement from the tent, no indication that you've put the argument behind. Worry gnaws away at him as the silence grows longer, but just as he is about to head back to his tent, the flap to your tent opens and you peek your head out.

His heart soars, chest fluttering with hope at the sight until you duck back into your tent, leaving him all alone outside once more. His shoulders droop and he turns away, crestfallen, but not before pawing at your tent in a last ditch attempt to grab your attention.

Your head pops out of your tent again, an annoyed look on your face. "Make up your mind about whether you want to come in or not."

Astarion blinks. "You'll have to invite me in first if you crave my company, darling."

"I don't believe I have to invite the vampire who isn't burned by sunlight and can stand in running water into my tent," you snort. "But if you sorely want an invitation, I can extend my dearest vampire Astarion Ancunin an invitation into my humble tent."

Astarion's cheeks flush, dusting them a light pink as he wordlessly ducks into your tent, settling on your bedroll out of habit. You seat yourself next to him, a good sign, and watch as he wrestles with what to say. A small smile creeps onto your face as he fumbles with his words, carefully picking them out so as to not offend you while being as genuine as possible.

"I forgive you." Your words are simple, but they cut right through.

His eyes widen, taken aback by the ease with which you say it. You smile softly, reaching for his hand but he pulls away, shaking his head.

"How…how can you forgive me so easily? What do you want from me in exchange? What can I do to earn your forgiveness?" The words tumble out of his mouth unbidden.

"Earn? After I gave it to you?" You tilt your head in confusion.

"I know forgiveness isn't freely given, but I don't understand what it is you want me to do. You don't want to sleep with me, you don't want me to serve you, so what exactly do you keep me around for? Just to pick locks? I'm confused by you and what you want from me!" Astarion nearly screams in frustration, then shrinks, anxiously babbling an apology.

He shies away as you try to move closer to him, his body trembling. His hand move to shield himself, reflexes honed over centuries of torture kicking in. You move backwards, giving him some space and he shakily looks up at you, confusion written all over his face.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Astarion. I will never hurt you, I swear." You upturn your hands, showing him that you pose no threat and he slowly relaxes.

"I…" He mumbles, picking at his nails nervously.

"It's alright, you don't have to say or do anything." You wave your hand. "Take your time."

He quietly sits there, contemplating his next move as you busy yourself with fluffing up the pillows and neatly arranging the bedroll. He silently watches you, his chest fluttering weirdly when he realises you're preparing the bedroll for him as well. This sort of affection…was a rare occurrence and even if it did occur, it was never to such a degree. Astarion lets out a sigh, and decides the best course of action is to address the argument the both of you had.

"Y/N…about the…little argument we had earlier…"

"Mmhm."

"I…want to apologise for what I said. I didn't…realise it would affect you that much." He takes a deep breath, forcing the next words out.

"I'm sorry."

You smile, reaching over to rest your hand gently on his. "I know, and I forgive you. I can't seem to bring myself to even hate you."

A laugh bubbles from your chest and you give his hand a squeeze. He squeezes back, the tension within him dissipating as you continue laughing, and soon he finds himself smiling. A fuzzy warmth envelops him and he shifts closer to you, wanting more of the warmth and light emanating from you. You tentatively wrap an arm around his waist and he leans in, indulging your need to be in physical contact with him. He lets your hand rest on his cold cheek, relishing in your gentle touches.

"Next time, invite yourself into my tent, Star." You press a chaste kiss to his lips, grinning cheekily.

"As you wish, my dear. Don't you regret saying it." He pulls you into a full kiss, hungrily devouring your lips.

"Never."