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gravegoer · 7 months ago

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Hello, how about a part 2 of being Sevika's boss maybe when they got together or something like that thankyouuu and i love all of your ficss thank you making them hehe

Sevika's Boss ꩜ part 2

hi anon, sevikas boss fanfic got a lot of love a while ago so im happy to write part 2 !! let me know if you enjoyed i threw in some misunderstandings for fun here..maybe kind of angst?? its okay tho you make up very quickly PART 1 , masterlist

You and Sevika hung around eachother a lot, I mean that was normal right? She is your second in command afterall.

Personally, you didn't see a problem with it, and nor did Sevika.

She had grown accustomed to your presence and didn't mind all your small, loving touches and annoying jokes.

And yes, sometimes she went a little overboard for you, like what kind of subordinate stays at their bosses house to tend to them whilst they are injured? Or goes out for drinks every weekend? But maybe your relationship was starting to exceed the bounds of boss and employee.

She has definitely warmed up to you more than she did with Silco. She thinks it was your charming personality, or cute outfits, your smile...

Some people might say you sitting in Sevikas lap while you fixed up her arm might be indecency in the workplace, but you found it to be a simple and innocent task.

But this begs the question, what exactly is your relationship?

This is also a question Jinx was starting to ask herself.

"So uh...whats with you and Sevika?" Jinx asked in an almost singsongy voice.

She flipped her gun around in her hand haphazardly while she was sprawled out on your (Silcos) desk.

"What do you mean whats with us..?" You shook your head, mimicking her movements with your pen.

"I meaaan, you guys act like a married couple or something!" She threw her two hands in the air with a 'duh' kind of look plastered on her face.

You pushed one of her braids to the side to pull out a paper from under it. One of Sevikas reports from a recent trip. Her handwriting was an imperfect cursive. Sighing, you put your face in your hand while you held the paper, staring at it diligently.

Jinx looked at you quizically at your lack of an answer. She sharply pushes the paper down with the tip of her gun, "Hey, are you— Oh," She let out a nasally laugh at the paper, "Damn, you got it bad, huh, toots?"

"What? I have what bad?" You slid the paper away and tilted your head at her.

The blue-haired girl sat up and rested a spindly arm on her knee, "You're so in L word with her." She snickered at you.

"Im in—" Your face flushed at your realization. "I am not in 'L word' with her." You raised your hands to do finger quotes around 'L word.'

"Hmmmm, are you sure?" She teased, putting her gun to her chin and looking up in mock thought "I mean, you practically cling to her, you always walk home with her, and plus you talk about her all the time– hell! You talk to her all the time."

You stared at Jinx, now zoning out in thought. What were you supposed to tell Sevika? Does Sevika even think the same way about you? Would that relationship even be appropriate?

"You know what?" You stood up and pointed in Jinx' face, "Im going to do it—"

She attempted to cut you off with a meek,

"Sevikas—"

"Im going to tell her I love her," You continued, Jinx' half attempt to save your ass fell on deaf ears.

You looked up, finger still in the girls face to make eye contact with a very familiar set of grey eyes. Fuck.

Sevikas gaze faltered, and she cleared her throat, bringing a fist to her mouth, "Um. I came to ask you if you wanted to grab a drink, but it seems like you have better plans."

Holy shit. She didn't know it was about her. Is that good or bad? You only felt a few seconds of relief before Sevika just turned around and walked out. That was bad.

Jinx whistled, still under the pressure of your pointing finger, "You have some explaining to do."

You fumbled over your words before pushing Jinx' forehead back with your finger. "Ughh.. This is your fault."

You drooped back down into the large chair, putting your head in your hand and heaving a sigh.

"Just go tell her while you still have a chance. She's probably going to be moping around the Last Drop," Jinx got up from her spot on the desk, and some papers fell with her.

"That's my queue to leave, though," She hopped out of the office with a little too much energy, probably on her way to cause more mischief.

You sighed and packed up your stuff, picking up stray papers and shoving them into a random drawer on your desk.

Grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, you pushed open the double doors to your office. It was time to go to the last drop.

poor sevika

Your entrance was signified with the ding of a bell atop the door. Music was playing loudly, and people were swarmed around the bar. Your eyes scanned the nearest areas for Sevika, but as you figures she was nowhere in sight.

She was most definitely in her usual gambling spot. You didn't want to approach her while she was in the middle of a game, so you waited at a nearby table, making sure to stay out of her sight.

You could hear the groans of the men at her table, most definitely losing. Chuckling at this, you watched as a waiter came up to your table asking for your order.

You just asked for a simple whiskey sour, hanging your bag on the back of your chair.

Several minutes (and a few drinks later), you felt someone's eyes on the back of your head. Turning around, you, once again, were met with steely grey eyes. Sevika stood near behind you with her arms crossed. The game had finished.

"You get rejected or something." She deadpanned.

"No—well.. not yet." You turned around in your chair to face her, the metal back of the chair was now settled between your legs.

You held what you thought was your sixth whiskey sour in between your fingers, chin resting on the top of the chair back.

She scoffed at this, turning her head to avoid eye contact. You could have sworn a small blush coated her cheeks. But her frown made you think otherwise, her large forearms tensed before she spoke.

"Oh, so you're waiting for her here."

How cruel of you to profess your love to someone in the place you knew Sevika would be. You probably wanted her to see it, right?

"Yeah, shes already here." You said, still staring at her side profile, tracing the scar on her cheek with your eyes.

The neon lights illuminated her face and brought out every curve and angle. But your thoughts were interrupted by her stern and almost angry voice.

"I should leave then," she started to walk away, but you reached out quickly.

(I dont know why you would do that when she wasn't even in arms length to begin with.) You started to fall forward, you let out a small yelp and held onto the chair, your drink falling onto the ground. You awaited impact, but it never came.

Instead, you were met with strong arms holding the back of your chair up. Sevika was bent over slightly, both mechanical arm and human arm on the metal of the chair. And for the third time, you made eye contact with now very close grey eyes. Her eyebrows were furrowed in shock or frustration- you couldn't tell.

Without another thought, you grabbed her by the collar and pulled her lips into yours. At first, she tried to pull away but eventually melted into the heat of the kiss. She sat your chair back up on four legs, and her elbows lean on the top of the chair, encircling you.

Almost as soon and she relented she pulled away, "What the hell are you doing," She rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of a large hand.

Her lips were still puffy from the kiss, but almost more downturned than before. When you didn't respond she offered a question, "Are you drunk?"

Your lopsided grin told her all she needed to know. She knew she needed to take you home, but she was going to do so reluctantly. Afterall you were going to become someone else's girl, couldn't have her hands all over you like she usually did.

She grabbed you (almost roughly) by the arms and pulled you out of the chair, "How are you going to profess your love now?" She scoffed.

"I just did, was that not enough?" Your words were slurred and you helped her by stepping up with heavy legs.

She furrowed her brows until she came to a not-so-shocking realization. Cursing under her breath she smirked at you. You could almost see the relief wash over her face.

Her thick arm held you by your upper torso as she almost carried you to the doors. She sighed at your stupidness, why not just tell her right away, then you wouldn't have to have gone through all the trouble.

She eyed your glossed over eyes, shaking her head at the dumb smirk that held its place on your face. She could feel the quiver of your body against the cold night wind.

At that she lifted you into her arms, covering you with her cloak. You looked up at her with wide eyes, burying your face in the material. God she wanted to kiss you so bad. But she'd save that for the awkward talk in the morning.

thank you for reading ! yes i see your asks all your fics are on the way I swear !!!! much love

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batman-soup · 1 year ago

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what if in his early robin days when Alfred insisted he come up to the manor Tim got lost exploring and wandered into the library. what if while Tim was just browsing he turns the corner and runs into bruce towering over him. what if bruce absolutely lost it at Tim and told him to get out and stay OUT of the library (the library was Jason’s favorite room). what if even after jason comes back tim avoids the library like a plague. what if jason found out bruce basically banned Tim from reading(drama queen) and gets PISSED. What if he tore into bruce about it who didn’t even remember the whole encounter until now. what if what if what if

#can u tell I’m wine drunk #tim drake #bruce wayne #batdad #batfamily #tim drake angst #Jason Todd is a reader #Jason Todd is a good older brother #and he is PISSED #anyways #tehehe

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oceanicfishies · 3 months ago

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Drunk ex!caleb would call you, of course you would not answer because we do not answer to exes so he would talk to the answer message.

“I-I” he would mumble as he would cover his face with his big hands and sat down into the stairs of a bar. “I don’t know what to do, I was born and you were there, I grew up with you and now I must grow old with your ghost”

He would stare at the sky as he became silent and closed his eyes to imagine your face “please just call me back”

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rianavi · 1 month ago

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slow mornings w/ joel miller are always the best part of your week.

the sunday sun filtering in through the sheer curtains, highlighting the tan skin of his bare biceps. toned from the years of contracting, bare from your activities the night prior.

your legs are tangled in with his, naked bodies pressed together as he lies on his stomach with an arm wrapped around your waist. the light sheet is the only thing covering you due to him shucking off the comforter in your sleep.

you don’t complain though, his body provides more than enough warmth for the both of you. and if anything it gives you an excuse to curl closer into him, nudge your nose underneath his jaw and take in the scent of him. musky and warm, cigarettes and whisky, cinnamon and leather.

you genuinely believe that this is heaven, wrapped up in his arms, taking in his scent, and just existing along side him.

and when he wakes, and presses a firm but gentle kiss to your forehead and whispers a “good morning,” in that rough morning voice of his, your cunt pulses with need.

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ghostr0tz · 1 year ago

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too much angst content with their past , I NEED THEM TO BE SILLY AND STUPID TOGETHER !!!!!!!

#/j i love the angst but i need them to be happy once in a while #dumb drunk idiots terrorizing the city #i cannot draw alastors outfit ever. sorry #my art #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #staticlovetune #radiostatic #staticradio #vox hazbin #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #art

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wolvietxt · 8 months ago

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drunken confessions prompt list

when too much alcohol loosens their tongue

🌀 leaning heavily on your shoulder, they slur, “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to kiss you,” and you freeze, unsure if they mean it or if it’s just the alcohol talking.

🌀 they’re giggling uncontrollably, cheeks flushed, when they suddenly blurt out, “you know, you’re the only person who makes me this happy.” the laughter fades, replaced by an earnest gaze that’s hard to dismiss.

🌀 stumbling over their words, they confess with a shy grin, “i think about you all the time.” their eyes widen like they didn’t mean to say that out loud, but there’s no taking it back now.

🌀 sitting together in the dim light of the bar, they lean in close and whisper, “i’ve been in love with you for ages.” you almost laugh it off, until you see the serious look in their eyes, even through the haze of alcohol.

🌀 drunkenly grabbing your hand and holding it against their chest, they mumble, “my heart always does this around you, you know.” you can feel the unsteady rhythm beneath your fingertips.

🌀 they’re rambling on about nothing in particular when, out of nowhere, they look at you and say, “i would give up anything just to see you smile every day.” it catches you so off guard that you don’t know how to respond.

🌀 as you’re helping them get home, they rest their head on your shoulder and murmur, “i’m not drunk enough to lie about loving you.” the words are soft and slurred, but the sincerity in their tone is unmistakable.

🌀 they keep repeating your name over and over, like they’re savoring the sound, before letting out a dreamy sigh and admitting, “i wish you knew how much i care.”

🌀 after a few too many drinks, they look at you with bleary eyes and say, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” there’s a hint of desperation in their voice, like they’ve been holding onto that truth for too long.

🌀 as they sway slightly on their feet, they confess, “i’d do anything for you.” you laugh and brush it off, but they shake their head stubbornly, grabbing your hand to make sure you’re listening.

🌀 they stumble closer, eyes half-lidded and voice soft, saying, “you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like this.” their fingers graze your arm, like they need the contact to stay grounded.

🌀 leaning in a little too close, they confess with a shaky laugh, “i don’t want you to ever be with anyone else.” the words come out rushed, like they’ve been bottled up for far too long.

🌀 slurring slightly, they admit, “i thought i could get over you.” there’s a hint of sadness in their gaze as they meet your eyes, like they’re realizing the truth for the first time.

🌀 as they’re drifting off on the couch, they grab your hand and mumble, “promise me you’ll stay.” their grip tightens slightly, like they’re afraid you’ll let go if they don’t hold on.

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melanchol1cs · 8 months ago

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WHAT GOOD IS SORRY?

ex husband!leon x f!reader

word count: 3.3k summary: why does one wound those they love so deeply? masterlist | taglist | wips

18+ MDNI. mentions of divorce, cheating/infidelity, awkward leon stuff, guilt, yearning, leon and reader have a child together — and i named her denise for whatever reason, getting stood up by a date, drunk texting, kissing, oral(r!receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bittersweet ending(?) i guess.

a/n: old wip,, this was supposed to be super gut wrenching and angsty but for some reason, my brain didn’t want to cooperate and decided that this would be the ending. also, i’ve been contemplating whether to address this or not and even tho its not a big issue, PLEASE interact with my posts. it’s the only way i’m able to know that you guys actually like the stuff i write, and ever since i’ve started writing on here 7 months ago, i’ve been noticing a decrease in interactions. im honestly losing motivation to write because i truly don’t know if people actually read my shit and like it. anyway, enjoy my mediocre writing ^___^

leon regrets everything he’s done up to this point. running into ada on a mission, going to the bar with her afterwards, and the kiss. the stupid kiss that eventually led up to this.

the divorce.

it all felt wrong, so wrong. yet here he was, driving his car to your doorstep, his stomach in knots despite having done this several times before.

for the sake of your daughter, the two of you had decided that shared custody would be the best option.

he stands at the door, hesitating before knocking, his knuckles hovering anxiously. clearing his throat, he gently raps his knuckles against the door, hoping for an answer. he's already second-guessing himself, wondering if he should have texted or called first.

your door eventually opens, and he's met with a familiar face. you.

you greet him with a civil smile, pressing a kiss into your daughter’s hair before ushering her inside.

he fidgets, adjusting the brim of his leather jacket nervously as he takes in the sight of you.

you reach to shut the door, catching a glimpse of him awkwardly hovering over you porch.

“you okay?”

he tries to find his voice. "yeah, i just, uh... i was just thinking..”

he looks down at his feet, kicking the ground with the side of his scuffed boot, as if trying to buy some time or maybe just willing the floor to swallow him up. when he speaks, his voice is low and sheepish. “when i was— last night, i thought… uh, do- do you remember when.. shit. are you free this weekend?”

”what?” you muse at his question. “leon, i really don’t wanna have this conversation with you again,”

he winces at the rebuff, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as a defensive measure.

leon’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hard, his ears burning at your words. he looks anywhere but at you, his eyes darting over the porch railing, the foliage, the sky — anywhere but your eyes. oh, those eyes he adored so much.

"no, wait, hear me out,”

"listen..." he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever fallout this might bring, knowing he's already on shaky ground. “i just wanna talk.. to you.”

he shifts his weight, glancing up at the roof of the house as if the heavens themselves could offer a solution. when he does meet your gaze again, his eyes are pleading, his jaw clenched with a mix of anxiety and something akin to desperation.

“i’m sorry, leon. i’m busy,”

he scoffs and his face scrunches up, a pained grimace contorting his features as he cuts you off. “c’mon, please?” he's standing too close now, invading the personal space he once knew so well. “i.. i know it isn’t what we do anymore but—“

“no, seriously. i literally can’t. i have something up.”

“oh.” he deflates slightly at your dismissal, shoulders slumping in defeat. a soft, regretful sigh escapes his parted lips, and his eyes drop, gaze wandering aimlessly. "can- can you can you cancel? is it really important? what about on sunday-? i’m sure we can..“

“leon.” it's not a question this time, you stare at him with the tiniest hint of pity. “i have a date.”

ouch. he freezes, his chest constricting as if he's been punched. a date? the words echo in his mind, each syllable like a dagger to his pride, his ego, his everything. a muscle in his jaw twitches, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. leon swallows hard, his throat suddenly parched.

"oh," he repeats, the sound barely above a whisper. he takes a shaky breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, jaw working in agitation as he grapples with the blow of your words. a snarky retort rises in his throat, a cutting remark to deflect the sting, but it withers on his tongue, a futile attempt at salvaging pride he knows is misplaced.

leon swallows hard, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice, laced with a wry bitterness. “yeah, no worries.. guess that's that," a bitter, hollow chuckle escapes him as he shifts his weight. his tone is flippant, trying to mask the sting of rejection, but the defeat is palpable as he turns to leave. he starts down the porch steps, his boots thudding against the wooden slats.

you finally close the door on him, standing by the door, hand on the knob, unease prickling along you skin like a thousand tiny needles, each one stinging with the weight of guilt. you sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tries to process her feelings. guilt, regret, a twinge longing — it's all so confusing, so messy.

the weight of his pleading eyes, the desperation in his tone — he had no right acting like a dejected puppy after he cheated on you.

you shake your head, face between your hands. he made his choices, just as you had, and now it was time to move on. you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and stepped away from the door, determined to let go of the ghost of what was and focus on the life you were building. for you, and your daughter.

but it’s not really easy.

not when you’re sitting alone at a restaurant, waiting for a date that never bothered to show.

your phone buzzes and you hold your breath. hoping for some sort of confirmation, but it's quickly snuffed out.

‘hey, sorry i couldn’t make it. something important came up’ the simple text reads. the same stupid excuse. every. single. time. your heart sinks, a dull ache forming in the pit of your stomach.

a bitter, derisive chuckle escapes your lips. serves you right. you knew he was trouble from the start. yet, your heart aches, a dull throb of pain and disappointment. you feel so foolish, sitting there, waiting for someone who never shows. though, it isn't really new.

now you lay in your bed, having already kicked off your heels and changed out of the uncomfortably tight dress you wore.

you pull the blankets up to your chin, suddenly feeling cold. you toss and turn, brooding and wallowing in misery, and it seemed like you’ve been doing it for hours till you’re startled out of your fitful doze by the buzz of your phone.

it's a text from leon, of course it is. it’s another one of his ‘where are u? i miss u’ ‘can’t stop thinking about you. please let me c u’ meltdowns.

he's drunk again, you can tell by the sloppy caps and the desperate pleas. every time he has a rough night, he always thinks coming over will magically fix everything. and you always refuse, knowing he’s only drunk and alone. but tonight, you feel particularly lonely.

your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and before you know it, you're typing. ‘come over.’ you hesitate, then send the message.

by then, he’s already halfway out the door, stumbling out and nearly falling as he trips over his own feet in his haste. he takes the stairs two at a time, a goofy, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. when he reaches your door, he pounds on it with a fist. his breath comes out in short puffs as he waits, anticipation making his heart race.

click.

the door creaks open a fraction and his eyes lock onto you, looking all soft and domestic in a robe. leon's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drink you in.

he tumbles in, arms outstretched as if he's about to catch something. he's immediately in your space, arms around you in a tight, needy embrace. his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, breathless with relief and something else, something suspiciously like love.

“leon—“ he smashes his mouth against yours, tongue pushing past your lips, the taste of beer and regret in his breath. his hands roam, sliding up your back, gripping your hair, fingers splayed wide as if to assure himself you're real. a low, desperate sound escapes him, half-groan, half-moan as his body presses against yours. he's desperate, sloppy, but undeniably passionate. when he finally breaks for air, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes glassy with drink and longing.

“missed you s’ much, baby,” he presses a kiss to your neck, tongue tracing the pulse point with a reverence that borders worship.

“let me make it up to you, please,” he looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, an expression so pathetic it’s comical. yet, the desperation behind them makes it anything but.

his hands skim down your sides to your hips, fingers digging in as if to keep you anchored to him. his face buried in the crook of your neck as his hands knead the meat of your ass, claws digging in through the fabric of your robe. his breath hitches as he nuzzles into you, inhaling deeply as if committing you to memory.

he trails a string of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, pausing to nibble on your collarbone before continuing his journey south. his hands never stop moving, roaming over your body with an insatiable hunger.

you let out a soft whimper, arching into his touch. "bedroom," you breathe out, and he happily obliges.

once inside, he kicks the door shut behind him and spins you around, backing you up against the bed. he begins to undo your robe with shaking fingers, your heavy breathing and the rustling of silk the only sounds in the charged silence between you. when the robe falls open, he pushes it off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet.

the thin, sheer fabric of your nightgown offers little resistance as he practically rips it off you. a shaky breath escapes his parted lips as he reaches for you again, fingers grazing your skin as if he's not quite trusting his own touch.

he guides you to the bed, pushing you to sit on the edge. he immediately drops to his knees before you, face between your legs.

“these ‘re pretty,” he slurs out, before he fucking tears your underwear off.

“leon!”

he chuckles at your reaction, a low, rumbling sound in the back of his throat. “sorry,” he murmurs against your inner thigh, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “gonna buy you new ones,”

his stubble scrapes against your sensitive skin as he slowly trails open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, savoring every inch of you that you’re willing to give him.

he buries his face between your legs, licking and sucking with a single-minded devotion that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back in your head. his scruffy cheeks hollow as he sucks a hickey into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

god, it’s been so long. the feelings practically foreign.

his tongue begins to lash at your slit, long and flat, with a dexterity that belies his level of inebriation.

“you still mine?” he huffs. “‘course you are, ‘m the only one that can get ya this wet,”

slurp, smack, suck, repeat.

his tongue is relentless, probing your entrance, swirling around your clit with increasing fervor. he's sloppy, uncoordinated, but it only serves to heighten the intensity of it all. every time he pulls back, you can hear his heavy breathing, feel the vibrations of his moans against your most intimate flesh. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer as your back arches off the bed. a keening whimper escapes you, the sound muffled by your clenched teeth as you struggle to maintain some semblance of control.

“fuck, leon—” your words trail off into incoherent mumbles as he drives you closer to the edge, tongue darting in and out with a pace that’ll make a grown woman go crazy. “d-denise, were gonna wake her up,”

a low growl rumbles in his chest as he responds to your whine. there's a hint of accusation in his gaze, but it quickly morphs into a look of raw, desperate need. “don’t matter,” he's relentless, persistent, refusing to back down even as you tremble and writhe beneath him.

he grunts, his attention snapping back to you, blue eyes squinting as he looks up from between your thighs. his tongue is a damn metronome, lapping and smacking with a relentless rhythm that has you chasing the edge of oblivion.

it's like every drunken fantasy he's ever had is being poured out onto you. messy, uncoordinated, desperate. and you’re eating it up. “gonna make you forget all about that stupid date," he mutters through slurred words. "’m the only man who can make you feel this good,"

he's not wrong. the way he's attacking you with his tongue, it's like he's trying to prove a fucking point.

"leon, please," you gasp out, and he takes it as an invitation to continue. your entire body is wound up tight, a taut string ready to snap. he slips a finger in, then two, curling them just right so that they’re pressing against that spongy spot that has you seeing stars.

your legs wrap around his head, fingers threading into his hair as you pull him in as close as humanly possible. his name is a chant on your lips, a prayer to the gods of pleasure. "leon, leon, leon,". denise could come in right now and catch you like this — legs splayed, back arched, eyes squeezed shut in bliss. he's that good. or maybe that bad. you dont know. and you don’t care to find out.

"yeah, just like that," he praises, voice a low, gravelly growl. "love my fingers in this greedy little cunt, don't you?"

your thighs clench around his head, heels digging into his back as you ride out the pleasure. "gonna cum, leon, please—“ yours words trail off into a wail, a keen of pure, unadulterated euphoria.

your back arches, toes curl, and your fingers dig into his hair, holding him to you as the wave crashes over you. he tugs you down to the edge of the bed, practically burying his face in your groin. he laps at your slit, in and out, in and out, until the last bit of resistance melts away.

he lifts his face from between your legs, eyes hazy and unfocused as he fumbles to unbuckle his pants. once he has it off, he's back, pushing your legs apart as he kneels between them. the thick of his length throbs against your lower belly, and you can feel his racing heartbeat through every inch of him that's in contact with you.

he notches the head of his cock at your entrance, pressing in just enough to make you feel the pressure, gathering your juices before giving a long, slow stroke up and down, coating himself in you. he's throbbing, pulsing with need, and you can practically taste the desperation in your mouth.

he presses in, just the tip at first, then a bit more. slow, shallow strokes, in and out. his hips rock against yours, the motion slow and languid. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your closed eyelids to check if he was dreaming. the other hand palms the small of your back, fingers digging in as if to anchor himself. your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as he slowly sinks into you.

he's quiet for a moment, just holding you, his heart racing in his chest as if he's trying to communicate something without using words. his hips move, the action slow and lazy, as if he's trying to spoon you into submission.

he pulls out, just to the tip, before pushing back in. the motion is slow, sensual, a deliberate teasing that has you whining and writhing beneath him.

sweat beads on his brow, tracing down the lines of his face, but he doesn't slow. if anything, he's driven by a desperate need to make up for lost time, to prove himself worthy of you. your back arches, hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets as he pistons in and out, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. he's not gentle, not soft, but rough and demanding, just like he always used to be when he was trying to stake his claim.

he nips at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before he sooths it with his tongue. “fuck, feels so good,” he gasps out, his words punctuated by the slap of skin against skin. “can't believe i ever let you go.”

"leon," you whimper, the name a plea, a prayer. his lips find yours in a sloppy, frantic kiss. he's drinking you in, devouring your mouth, your moans, your gasps, trying to consume every ounce of you.

he's sweating, hair a mess, face scrunched up in concentration, but those blue eyes remain locked on yours.

you're lost in the sensation, every nerve ending on high alert, screaming for friction, for relief, for release. "leon, leon, gonna cum," you pant, your voice raw, your throat dry. "please, i—" but your pleas are swallowed by his next thrust, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

he leans forward, his forehead pressing against yours, noses nearly touching. his hot breath mingles with yours, the scent of his beer-soaked breath and the musk of his arousal mingling together in the most intoxicating way. "love you," he suddenly whispers, the words a quiet, a desperate confession that hangs in the air between you.

“love you, love you, fuck—“

the way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. for a long moment, he stays frozen, buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against yours as he tries to catch his breath.

the heat of your body seeps into his skin, chasing away the chill of the night air. he collapses against you, a boneless heap of satisfied male. his cock throbs, pulses, and drips onto the bed between your legs as he tries to catch his breath. the room is silent, save for your joint heavy breathing, and the occasional groan as his softening length slips out of you. eventually, he rolls off, lying on his back beside you, one big hand coming to rest on your stomach, thumb stroking in a slow, idle pattern. his eyes are hazy, unfocused, but they find yours and hold. a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

"sorry," he slurs out, the word garbled and slightly off-kilter. "i shoulda been better, should’ve tried harder, i... i‘m gonna make things right, i swear,"

he peppers your neck with soft kisses, his stubble rasping against your tender flesh. he's warm, solid, and comforting. gentle and tender, a stark contrast to the desperation that drove him mere moments ago.

he's not reaching for grand gestures or flowery declarations. he's asking for something simple, intimate, and achingly human. a chance to hold you, to sleep beside you, to maybe, begin to rebuild something from the rubble of what once was.

and for a moment, you let yourself believe that he’ll be different this time. that he's not just trying to relive past glories, but genuinely wants to make amends, to start anew.

tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae

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itsredpaint · 26 days ago

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transistor au

#hsr #nikiki's art #Phainon hsr #Mydei hsr #honkai star rail #Phaidei #Bro what is their other shipname #Anyway rite of passage my transistor au #Sorry it's angst it's always angst when it's from me #Phainon #Mydeimos #For context for ppl who don't know the game transistor #Mydei gets trapped in a sword and phainon lost his voice #In this scene mydei gets a little 'drunk' for the lack of better word #So he's honest 😔

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peony-always · 10 months ago

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Dial Drunk

wolverine/logan howlett x afab!reader

words - 4k

tags: dp&w!Logan, damsel(ish)!reader, angst angst angst (he has so much potential as a sad wet tomcat), feelings (Logan isn't good at them), use of alcohol, canon-typical violence, !attempted assault!, implied assault

quick an: this is my first full fic!! the ghost of Logan's past hovered over my shoulder as I wrote this, loosely based on Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan but it's more of just an inspiration border creds to @/bunnysrph

Logan was pissed. Furious. He was so overwhelmingly angry with himself that his claws had extended and for a while, he couldn’t retract them. He finally got them to slide back under his skin when the cop standing outside his holding cell door threatened to put him in with the general population if he didn’t put his ‘weapons’ away.

That was the last thing he needed right now. He was already on edge, and being surrounded by people who hated him just for who he was would probably be his last straw. He sighed, slumping back against the dirty concrete wall behind him. He rubbed his temples, taking a few deep breaths to calm his once again rising anger.

He understood why he was in that stupid cell. Bar fights were enough to get a normal person arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but cops were always especially ready to arrest a mutant. He hated that he had let his animalistic side get him here, proving them right about how dangerous he was, but he could only take so much of that stupid guy in the booth behind him spewing ant-mutant hatred right in his face.

“Damn liquor,” Logan thought to himself as his head continued to throb. That in and of itself was enough to make him upset, as he was typically so well acquainted with alcohol that it never got to him. Tonight, however, he had drunk way more than usual, throwing back shots in the dingy bar a few blocks from his apartment as quickly as the bartender could pour them up.

The idiotic man he had beaten at the bar wasn’t the true cause of his anger though. That honor fell to his stupid, stupid brain. It was after the cops had wrangled him and shoved him into their stuffy, too-small cruiser that Logan had made his infuriating error.

The driving officer, a short and stocky man with a pudgy face, had looked back at him from the rearview mirror and said,” The guy you were fightin’, George, he ain’t gonna press charges on ya. He’s in and outta the lockup every other week, and he ain’t gonna be lookin’ for any more trouble than he’s already in. Plus, I think you’re more of a danger to yourself than to anybody else, goin’ around that drunk. You ain’t caused any trouble before, but we still gotta bring you in. Procedure, ya know. Got anybody you want us to call to pick ya up?”

Logan hadn’t even thought about it before your name came spilling from his lips. He hadn’t even realized what he said until they arrived at the jail and the pudgy cop pulled him from the back seat. “Her? Really?” the cop said, suspicion heavy in his voice. “She babysits my kids on the weekends, didn’t know she associated with drunk fighters like you.”

Logan snarled on instinct as he heard the inherent prejudice in the cop's voice before he realized who the cop was talking about. ‘No,’, he thought. ‘God, no.’ He hadn’t seen you in months, and he hadn’t been planning on seeing you ever again. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell the cop he wanted to change his call. He could have gotten him to phone Wade or Laura, they would have picked him up in a heartbeat.

Maybe he didn’t say anything because he wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay after the long months you had spent apart. Or maybe he was just still drunk, forgetting the past and wanting you to take him home with you, to let him have his seat on the couch while he sobered up, drinking your fruity teas and eating the sickeningly sweet cookies you always bought from the local bakery. “Too much sugar and you’ll rot your teeth out,” he’d tell you with a lopsided smile, knowing how you’d respond. Every time he said it you’d prance up to him and poke a finger into his chest, grinning,” You’re already so sweet that my teeth ache, so what does more sugar hurt?” And then you’d lean up, pecking him on the lips as you move to go back to your tasks.

His heart ached as that memory resurfaced and his head fell to join his back against the unforgiving chill of the cell wall. He tried to fight it (no he didn’t), but his drink-addled brain was unable to stop the memories of you from flooding back into his system.

Your first meeting, a year ago that felt more like ten since you had left. Logan had been stalking his way down the street, huffing and puffing, pissed at Wade for inviting people over and blaring music when he had known that day was Logan’s only day off for two weeks. He had grabbed his jacket and stormed out into the chilly New York evening, turning left outside their apartment as he made his way toward the nearest bar. He craved a stiff drink, damn Wade and Laura had hidden all of the alcohol in the house from him. They told him he needed to dry out, and he did. He knew it as well as everyone else, but it was hard. After years of drowning his guilt and grief in drink, it made him nervous to let go, to face his days head-on instead of looking at them from the syrupy brown lens of his old friend whiskey.

It was on his way to the bar that he heard it. A muffled cry, the sound of flesh hitting concrete, a grunt of pain. He took off in the direction of the sound, his hyper-sensitive nose smelling the fear lacing the air the closer he got to a dingy alley two streets over. As he rounded the corner, he saw you. Your hands were bound behind your back and there was a gag stuffed in your mouth. Your eyes pled with Logan to save you as your attacker dragged you across the ground, mumbling and lurching back and forth as he pulled you along,” Stupid fuckin’ whore. Women. Always gettin’ in the way of what I deserve. Maybe I’ll put you in the dumpster when I’m done with you, let you rot with the flies.”

Logan’s nostrils flared as he surged forward, yanking your leg from the man’s grip and pushing you further away as your attacker spun to face him. “What the-” was all the scumbag got out before Logan clocked him, knocking him out with one punch. He really wanted to keep beating on the guy, but his enhanced hearing had him turning toward you as you shuddered, whimpers escaping the gag as tears rolled down your face.

He held his hands up, approaching slowly and kneeling on the dirty ground in front of you and gently pulling the gag from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out shuddering sobs as he reached around you to loosen your bindings, careful not to touch you more than he had to. He had experienced more than his fair share of trauma, and he knew how hard it could be to have someone be so close to you when you were going through it, so he made sure to lean back as soon as he had freed you.

However, you immediately proved his assumption wrong. You slumped down against him, your hands fisting his t-shirt as you sniffled and coughed. “Thank-thank you.” you stuttered as you tried to calm yourself. “Thank you so, so much.” Logan tentatively reached around you to pat your back,” You’re welcome, bub. Just doin’ what needed to be done.” As his hand tapped out a soothing beat against your back, you felt yourself begin to come down from the adrenaline rush of almost being kidnapped. You thought back to the man’s ugly words, sniffling again as you whispered, “He was going to kill me.”

Logan bristled immediately, his hand coming to a halt on your back. “Never would have let that happen, ya hear me. I’d have heard ya from a mile away,” he grunted and gently stood to his feet, pulling you up with him.

“You live close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Just down the street.”

He finally got a good look at you, and by God were you pretty. Even with bits of gravel leaving red divots in your cheeks and your eyes watery with tears, you were among the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He shook himself out of his daze as you took a deep breath and started walking shakily down the street. He tried to stay close but not too close as you walked, following behind you and scenting the air for any more threats. He sure as hell didn’t want to put you through anything else tonight.

The two of you walked in silence until you finally stopped, turning to face Logan as you stood outside the lobby door of your apartment complex. You managed a slight smile as you looked up at him, “I’m sorry that I’m not inviting you in,” you said. “It’s just that this evening has been hellish and I’d like to be alone.”

Logan shook his head, stepping back, “No, no, I understand, I’ll be-”. You cut him off,” Come tomorrow around noon. I’ll treat you to coffee for saving me.” You said this forcefully, almost demanding him to do as you said. It shocked Logan, and a small smile made it’s way onto his lips. “Yes, ma’am.” You thanked him one more time and headed into your building, leaving Logan standing outside, staring at the doors, more curious about you than he had been about anyone in a good long while.

He did show up the next day, letting you take him to a quaint cafe and buy him a coffee, plain black, which you teased him for. You spent what felt like hours asking him questions and telling him about yourself, and it felt so right, so natural for both of you. Just being there with you was enough to take Logan’s mind off of the things that haunted him, solely focused on your beautiful face and animated expression.

When you realized you had been yapping at this near-stranger for almost 3 hours, you figured it was time to go, gathering your trash and standing up, blush heating up your cheeks. “Thank you again,” you said. “For saving me last night and for letting me talk your ear off today.” Logan flashed you a small smile, tilting his head slightly, “How about the same time tomorrow then? My treat.”

He watched your face light up and thought to himself that he’d go broke buying you coffee if you’d just keep looking at him that way. You quickly agreed, telling him that you’d definitely be there if he wouldn’t mind you being a little late, as work was a little further than your apartment.

And so it began, the two of you had gotten closer and closer, until a random Tuesday when you blurted out that you wanted to be his girlfriend, if he’d have you. After teasing you about your blush, he of course agreed, claiming that you had been his girlfriend for weeks and you had just noticed.

You brought him around to your place, where you cooked with him, watched all your favorite movies, and made love. He brought you around to his place, too. You met Wade and Al, which prompted the discussion about his mutation and history. You took everything in stride, reassuring Logan that his past changed nothing, that you were still his if he was still yours. He found a job at a local community college, taking training classes and becoming one of the campus security officers. He quit drinking so much, instead relying on your perfectly brewed cups of coffee to get him through the day, only having a drink or two after work if you were feeling like it.

Logan had never been happier. It was like you were made for him. He took care of you and in turn, you soothed his battered soul. No one had ever touched him with the tenderness that you did, no one ever made him feel as good as you. His existence had become pure bliss and he felt he finally had a purpose again.

Your lives went on this way for a year and three months, until, just like with every other good thing he had ever had, he ruined it.

Logan had come to your place before you got off work, aiming to surprise you with dinner after you had complained of a particularly hard week. He had just stepped through the door when he stopped cold, smelling that someone was here, or had been here recently. It wasn’t a scent he recognized, and he prowled through the apartment, checking every room thoroughly for an intruder. When he found no one, he made his way back to the kitchen, still uneasy.

It was there that he saw the papers on the counter, one neat little stack that would change his life. He moved the blank paper on top and a chill shot up his spine. It was a photo of you, taken when he was sure you thought no one was watching. It showed you through the window of your apartment, a soft smile on your face as you put on a coat over your work uniform. He could even make out the locket around your neck that he had given you for your anniversary.

He moved on to the next pages, letters detailing your entire life, down to how much your water bill had been that month.

It was the second to last page that sealed his fate, his name next to a summons, a set of coordinates he was to come to or they would kill you. He quickly thought to himself that he could protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, then immediately realized that that wasn’t the kind of life he had wanted to give you, always on the run and afraid for your life. No, he would have to end things with you and go take care of this mess himself. It broke him to think of hurting you in the way that he would be required to. You were so resilient, so passionate, and stubborn when it came to him. He would have to destroy all of that to get you to leave him alone.

And so, he sat down in the living room and waited, tucking the papers into his jacket so you wouldn’t see them. Dread filled his bones, dragging him down into the couch and he thought he might not make it out of your apartment alive.

It wasn’t much later when he heard the front door open, your lively humming filling his ears and making him feel so much worse. He stayed seated as you made your way through the apartment, shedding your bag and coat as you went.

“Oh, Lo! You scared me!” you said as you saw him, your hand going to your chest in mock shock. “What are you doing here before me?”

Logan swallowed and spoke, trying not to let his voice shake,”We need to talk.”

Your smile dropped instantly and you moved toward him, balking when he held a hand up to stop you. “Lo, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

The look on your face was killing him, so he looked away as he spoke,”I want to break up.”

You sank down to your knees, squinting as you tried to get him to meet your eyes,” What? Lo, what happened? I promise we can figure it out together. You’ve just got to tell me what’s wro-”

“I cheated,” he said, cutting you off. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I want to be with her.” As soon as he said it, he knew if he could just convince you that he had really broken your trust that way, you’d be done with him.

You laughed slightly, awkwardly,” Logan, that’s not funny. You shouldn’t say things like that. Did I do something wrong or make you mad? I’m sorry for whatever I did, but you really shouldn’t lie.”

The look on your face was almost enough to break his resolve, but the need to protect you won out over his impending grief, “I’m not joking. I’m done with this relationship and I’m done with you. I've found something better.” He felt so wrong saying those words, knowing you feared that you weren’t good enough for him.

“Lo-Logan, please, we can work this out. I can do better, I can be better if you’ll just tell me what you need that I’m not giving you. Please.”

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve, your expression pleading. Logan felt his heart that you had mended shatter back into a million pieces, standing up and ripping his sleeve from your grasp.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, injecting as much venom into his voice as he could. “I said I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you stupid food, or your stupid gifts, or your pathetic love. I’m done. Do you hear me? Get it through your thick skull and stay away from me. I never want to see you again.” He turned away from you as he walked toward the door, stomping over his heart on the way.

He shook you off again as you grabbed his pant leg, still on your knees on the floor. Your voice warbled as you begged. “Logan, baby, please,” you cried. “I can change I swear. I can be whatever you need. Just please don’t leave me. You’re my whole life. You make me so happy. I can’t-I can’t do it without you. Please.”

He risked one glance back at you, telling himself he needed to see your face one more time to remind himself why he was leaving. The sight of you on the floor, tears pouring down your cheeks, was killing him. He should have known that he couldn’t have you, that something would force him to leave, but he had foolishly hoped that he could spite whatever higher power kept hurting him by keeping you.

“Don’t come around,” he spat with as much vitriol as he could muster. “I won’t contact you, and you don’t contact me. Let’s make this as easy for you as possible. Just forget I ever existed.”

He didn’t look back again, didn’t watch you weep as you began to mourn what you thought would be forever, knowing you could never stop loving him, even now that he hated you.

Logan groaned, leaning forward against his knees as he came back to himself, his heart aching as painfully as it had when he had lived it the first time. After he had left you, he had gone to the coordinates on the papers he had taken from the apartment. They led to a rural town in Quebec, a place he couldn’t remember but felt like he had been before. There, he met up with a gang of mutant hunters who believed that somehow the universe’s Logan had come back from the dead. They tried to kill him again and threatened him with more violence toward you if he didn’t die willingly. Fat chance. Logan was a newly hollow man and had no qualms about tracking and slaughtering every one of the mutant hunters so that his kind could live in a semblance of peace.

He stayed up north for a while, squatting in an abandoned cabin and letting his instincts rule him. That was better than having his every waking thought be filled with how he had left you broken on your living room floor, believing that he had betrayed you.

Eventually, he went back to Vancouver. Somehow, his job let him come back, and Wade didn’t pester him with questions (probably because Logan had almost bitten his head off after he asked the second one).

He had considered going to your apartment now that the threat against you was handled, but he knew that as soon as he found happiness with you he’d have to leave again. It was for your own good, really. He wanted you to be happy, and you couldn’t be happy if Logan was constantly walking out on you.

So he went to work and started drinking heavily again, which had led him to the inside of a holding cell, coming to terms with the fact that he would be there all night.

As soon has he had laid down on the hard metal bench he had been sat on for hours, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head and watched the cop approach, fully expecting him to say that you had hung up as soon as you heard what they were asking of you. Maybe you hadn’t even answered and Logan would get another call.

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the cop to swing the cell door open and grunt at him, motioning for him to get up. Logan quirked up a brow as he stood, “Is it chow or somethin’?” he asked. The cop chuckled, “You sure you’d rather eat the slop they serve here than leave with the pretty little lady that came to get you? She signed your papers, so you’re good to go. And please, don’t come back.”

Logan almost stumbled as he processed what the cop had said, his mind racing as he sniffed the air.

You.

You were here, close. Your scent was so strong. Logan’s heart clenched. He truly believed he would never smell you again, the sweet musk of your skin paired with your perfume. He slowly turned, and there you were.

You were soaking wet, your hair drenched and your mascara slightly smudged, a jean jacket falling from your shoulders. Something was wrong, though. You were hunched over yourself, almost cowering in his presence. Your hands shook as you pulled your jacket further up your arms. Logan would have thought nothing of it and assumed you were just cold if you scent hadn’t changed. He could smell fear on you, a fear he hadn’t come into contact with since the night you met.

You turned and started walking toward the jailhouse door, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Logan was following you. He caught up to you in a couple strides, staying slightly behind you to give you your space. All he wanted was to reach out and touch you, to hold you in his arms again, but he resisted. On one hand, he was immensely grateful that you had come to get him. On the other hand, he felt so guilty that you had come to save someone who had broken your heart.

The two of you walked out into the rain, Logan still following you. You led him to a small car, one that you hadn’t had when he left you. He didn’t move as you rounded the car to get in, assuming he’d walk back to Wade’s from there.

“Get in, Logan,” you said quietly.

He took a deep breath as he opened the passenger seat and got in, leaning forward so as to get as little water on your seats as possible. “Thank you,” he said. “Really, you didn’t have to come get me. I don’t even know why I gave them your name. I’ve just had too much to drink and-”

It was only then that you turned to face him, your face illuminated softly in the hazy light from the lamps lining the street. He scanned your face, his blood running cold as he saw your black eye and split lip, your eyes bright red with shed tears. “Logan,” you said, cutting him off. You took a deep, shaky breath, “We need to talk.”

#Logan Howlett x reader #Wolverine x reader #James Logan Howlett x reader #Logan Howlett x you #Wolverine x you #James Logan Howlett x you #Logan Howlett x reader friends to lovers #Logan Howlett imagine #Wolverine imagine #James Logan Howlett imagine #X men imagine #Hugh Jackman #Deadpool and Wolverine #Logan Howlett fluff #Logan Howlett x reader fluff #logan howlett fic #logan howlett angst #dial drunk #james logan howlett

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twilightsumu · 2 months ago

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drunk running | s. geto

chapter two: girls like sex

synopsis: flashback: the start of yn and geto’s fwb ‘relationship’.

warnings/genre: modern au, smau, college night out, alcohol use, cursing, yn being idiot and not picking up on signs, geto being an idiot and hiding his feelings, suggestive, talks of pregnancy (suguru the seahorse)

a/n: i am trying not to not write so much, but jeez i can’t shut up! i just want to detail every little thing because i love them. also, how cute is suguru?

your friends, shoko, nanami, gojo, and haibara are up ahead of you. their voices drifting into your hair. and for a minute, the liquor sneaks through you; you want to stand there and have the words of their conservations wrap around you like a warm blanket. feel drunk off the sounds of your friends and not the tequila pumping through your bloodstream.

suguru is walking in step with you. you almost want to jog a few steps ahead and see if he’ll catch up. if he’ll follow through or stay coolly behind you, like he has all the time in the world to walk home.

you look up at him and before you could even get him in the full line of your fuzzy vision, his eyes are already on you. soft and still, like he was watching your hair dance with the light breeze and was waiting for you to watch too.

he curls the piece of hair that is always dancing in front of his eye, behind his ear. Iike hes trying to neaten himself up, without realizing.

“what?” you hiccup and suguru chuckles. another sound you want to add to the blanket of your drunkness. your steps matching his, shoko yelling at gojo, nanami’s head shaking, his chuckle. maybe even the curl of his hair near his ear, if you listen hard enough.

“you’re drunk,” he says. his hands stuffing into his pocket, like he’s trying to keep them busy.

“not super drunk,” you giggle. it’s not a lie, you’ve been far more drunk than this. but the air is making you feel light. making you feel like you might be able to overcome tomorrow’s hangover with a glass of water and a single piece of bacon. no need for the advil or whatever the fuck nanami puts in his morning shakes.

“i could still do this,” you place your finger right in the middle of your nose. a little plop. and you almost throw your head back in laughter at how childish it seems. but that feels like too much work. especially because you’re trying to stay around all of them. around the sounds of the people closest to you. no need for you to muddle with their soundtrack.

“wow, i'm so proud of you,” he deadpans but you hear the smile in his tone. you smile too.

“i'm surprised you didn’t leave with one of your guys. you usually never come back with us.” you roll your eyes. not at his observation but at the thought of the guy you would’ve gone home with.

a car blasting a pop song you’re sure you have saw in suguru’s secret spotify account, speeds past you guys. the vibrating bass of the car staying in the air. you almost feel the bass on the bottom of your feet even as you continue to keep up with suguru’s steps.

“first of all, i don’t have ‘guys’,” you huff and he chuckles again. teasingly. you ignore how your ears perk at the sound.

“it was one guy and he’s a fucking moron,” he is looking at the back lights of the car so far away now. they look like little two red eyes watching the group of us walk home. watching suguru tease you with his chuckle.

“how so?” suguru mummers. a strong breeze bites through the night and you get a sniff of suguru’s cologne mixed with the tequila you're sure is emitting from your pores.

he’s looking at you again. eyes still soft, always welcoming.

“he didn’t believe me when i said i did not want a relationship,” you shrug. use to the conversation. you could replay the exact conversation, the faces always changing. the words are always the same.

the face doesn’t believe that you could possibly just want sex. no strings attached. no calling late at night because you saw him with another girl. no, you don’t want to meet his grandmother’s dog. just sex. no, you're not going to change. you never do.

“he said he thought i was looking at this too seriously,” you deadpan and you feel a faint prickle of annoyance at the base of your spine. because you know how to act. you know not to get too comfortable. no, you don’t stay the night. you barely ask how their days were.

suguru hums, slightly nodding his head. he kicks a rock ahead of you two. a little puff of dirt dancing around his feet.

“were you?” he asks. his interest makes you feel a little unraveled.

“jesus, no,” you throw your arms up. “i know i have never made a guy believe that we’ll get in a relationship,” he kicks another rock, his hands burrowing deeper into his pockets. more dirt dancing. you almost feel like you have to sneeze.

“i think he was gaslighting himself to believe that is what was going to happen.” you watch suguru think this over. his eyebrows furrow slightly and his shoulders lean forward a bit. propelling him to another rock.

“why don’t you just get into a relationship?” suguru asks. and the question is out of curiosity. not snarky, no judgmental tone to it. just curious. like a child asking why the tooth fairy only comes at night.

ahead of you guys, shoko is running into a bush to pee. nanami is trying his hardest not to gag as he covers her body with his. gojo is still screaming and laughing. loud, lifelike. haibara is off to the side singing off key to some song that was playing in the bar.

“because i’m me,” you say. no shame to it. no need to lie or beat around the bush. you’re proud to know yourself. to know that you’re the problem. you know that you’re not willing to change.

he looks at you from the corner of his eye for a beat too long and you could tell that he is trying to bite back something. a disagreement, maybe. a statement of understanding. but he doesn't say anything and you're starting to become uncomfortable under his stare.

you sometimes catch him staring at you exactly like this and you wonder at the moment if he was looking at you because you did something he liked? it always leaves you a little shaken, because suguru’s stare could be so hard to gauge. he’s either staring at you to see you whole or look right through you.

his hands leave his pocket and sway on his sides. a little too close. one pinky away from hooking your fingers together. you decide not to overlook the movement.

you continue and you feel like you’re trying you’re best to defend yourself under his stare. “girls like sex too.”

“those are valid reasons. no judgment towards it,” he smirks. his hand nearest to your brushes against yours, just once. “i don’t think it should be hard for you to find someone who feels the same,” he looks at you, the smirk still dancing in his lips. but his voice sounds tempting. like he knows something you don’t know.

“my track record says otherwise, suguru,” you retort, an annoyed huff swishing out of your nose.

and because the tequila is still dancing in your bloodstream and suguru’s stare is unraveling to a place you didn’t think you'll ever go. and because of his tempting voice from three seconds before. you don't think, just allowing your mouth to move.

“unless you’re up for the challenge,” you joke. but for some reason, despite knowing and joking with suguru for a couple years, this felt new.

almost instantly, you regretted your mouth just moving with no thought process. no safety plan.

he halts, and that smirk that pretty much lives on his lips is there and it feels inviting. like it wants you to come closer. his eyes follow your body up from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head, his hand reaching up to rub at his chin. like a professor assessing the paper you just sent in.

his smirk twitches, for a split second, becoming something sincere. something way too kind for what you’re proposing.

a car playing a more mellow, low volume song drives by. the headlights playing off suguru’s all black outfit.

you’re sure it’s the tequila talking. playing eye games. but his eyes light up just a bit. a little dance of hunger in them.

“i love a challenge,” he says, a playful tilt to his voice. he’s staring at you as if he's trying to figure out if you mean it or not. if his answer was correct.

“and sex?” you tease back, looking at the smirk on his lips. your eyes hiding from his. there were too much emotions flowing through them it someone like you to grab on too.

maybe you were too hard on yourself a few seconds. the words were meant to leave and be heard by him.

“who doesn’t love sex, yn?” he seriously asks. no laugh following it. as if you asked the stupidest question ever. his eyes are racking you over, the hunger being replaced by a softness that doesn't make sense coming after this question.

you stare at him, the tables reversing. but under your stare he’s cool. like he’s practiced this exact conversation in his room for the last three months. no other emotion but passive confidence radiating off of him

you take your eyes off of him to look over your shoulder. your building is close. two blocks away if you hustle and catch the light on this corner you could be home in less than five minutes.

shoko and nanami aren’t super ahead anymore, their whispered conversations carrying in the air and entering this new landscape of suguru and yours.

“i think we could work,” he says and you turn your head to give him a good look again. his hands are running through his raven hair and he’s looking at his own roommates, gojo and haibara playing around in the streets. chasing each other like two puppies playing in a field.

“not that i have been thinking about it,” he quickly adds and you almost laugh at the way he shifts his eyes from you back to his roommates as fast as he could. like he's trying to get a snapshot of your reaction.

“i might have to agree with you, suguru,” another laugh almost erupts out of you at the way his eyebrows shoot up. so quickly, so that the look of passivity can be etched back onto his features without you noticing. but you did notice and it made you feel powerful.

“you’re good looking and,” you shrug, sending him a teasing smile at your blunt remark. “well, i’m me. so like naturally,” you start walking away and you hear his steps starting up behind you again.

“you think i'm good looking?” there is a smugness in his voice that sends a little zap at the bottom of your spine. it almost made you forget about his eyebrow mishap a few seconds earlier.

you guys missed the light. shoko and nanami across from you. gojo and haibara are nowhere in sight, but you hear them.

“not as good looking as gojo,” you joke and you look up at him right as he sends a playful eye roll.

“kidding,” you laugh. “you have that ‘i hate my life’ vibe that I find oh so attractive,” you dramatically exclaim, using one hand to clutch your chest and the other to grab at his arm that’s closest to you.

his skin touching yous, specifically after this conversation floating around you two, feels hotter than usual. like his body is trying to seep into yours by heat alone.

you’re not sure if he notices the heat but he erupts into a belly aching laugh. his eyes closing and his head tipping back to allow the laugh to enter the air stream. you stare at the way his adam apple bobs in his neck and you have to swallow the lump in your throat.

“you’re funny,” he states, laughter still dancing in his voice. the light changes and you’re both waking into the crosswalk. step to step. “but i knew that already,” his hand finding its way to the dip on the bottom of your back. you think you could feel a light tremble in his hand, but that might just be you because of the breeze pushing in.

you shiver a bit, hoping he does notice. so that words don’t have to speak for you. for what you want and what he may be willing to give and lose in the process.

shoko and nanami are waiting for you, right on the corner where the two groups usually depart. suguru and his group turn right and you guys go left.

you almost wish you had even a minute more so you could gauge suguru. really get under his stare.

“if you’re done joking,” he says quiet, carefully. like the words might come out wrong if he isn't.

leaning down a bit so that his lips are ghosting near your ear. “i’m down. it’s just sex right?”

you feel his hand on your back tense for a moment, as if he is wondering if he should keep it there. and from the corner of your eye, you notice the twitch in the corner of his lips.

you swallow, and feel a smirk grow on your own lips. you watch the way your roommates stare at you two. nanami voices something about the time and you use that to get out of suguru’s line.

“mhm, i'll think about it suguru,” you say, walking towards a cranky nanami complaining about how late it is and a shoko laughing at him. questions evident in their stares. the warmth of his hand still burning on your back.

“think about getting home, jesus,” nanami mutters as you fall in line with them to walk to your building. you ignore him, feeling suguru’s stare on your back.

“i wouldn’t want you to catch feelings, you know?” you say over your shoulder and you hear his chuckle drift towards you like an open invitation. and you laugh too, because you think this may actually work.

taglist: @re-tired-succubus, @luvvcho, @iluvujt, @smolcooki33, @candy-s72, @starmapz, @shokosbunny, @emlient, @loveyislost, @whatismatildethinkingabout, @shibataimu, @11thlife02, @se-phi-roth, @frootloopscos, @risagichi, @sttaejoon-blog, @vampshxde, @corvid007, @marsavie

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starlightrosess · 3 months ago

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Drunk texting them "I miss you" late at night (Pt.1)

summary: In which you drunk text them late because you miss them, whether it's good for you or not..

tags: modern au, crack, fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, fwb, situationships, bad decisions, bad spelling

includes: gojo, geto, nanami

part 2

•❅───✧❅ Gojo ❅✧───❅•

Gojo and you have always had a push and pull relationship. Teasing, flirting, nothing too serious... until you both caught feelings. Now it was serious, but neither of you wanted to take the next step, leading to an awkward situationship. Eventually, it got to a point where you both needed space from each other. So, you stopped talking as much. It should've been simple, but with him, it never was. So one thing lead to another, and you went out drinking with some new friends, only to be left drunk and alone with nothing but your thoughts.

So you texted him.

•❅───✧❅ Geto ❅✧───❅•

Fuck. You weren't supposed to get attached to Geto. He didn't promise you anything. He made sure to tell that you can't be more than friends with benefits. But he didn't keep you in check and let you fall for him. Every time you tried to pull away for your own sanity, he would reel you back in. It was torture, but you couldn't help yourself. He was just too much. You let it happen... Until you found out he was seeing someone else. He never told you directly, you found out the way people do when they’re not technically owed anything. Though a simple post with a tag and a caption. So now it's months later, you're not over him and drunkly scrolling through his page only to see all the posts of him and his girlfriend are deleted.

So you texted him.

•❅───✧❅ Nanami ❅✧───❅•

Nanami never wanted to drag you along. He knew he couldn't keep up a relationship while he was dealing with school and his part-time job. But even still, he did somewhat drag you along. He wanted you to be his, he wanted you so bad, but he knew himself. So before things could get more serious, before things crashed and burned forever between you. Nanami ended it. He was very sweet about it, explaining the reasons why you couldn't be together at the moment. But it didn't stop you from feeling hurt anyway. So while drinking alone after your roommate left to grab some more booze, your thoughts wander to him...

So you texted him.

Send me an ask for any requests.

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sstarfruitz · 5 months ago

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(Part 1/3)

A bit of a skip in the timeline for the AU, but I really wanted to start exploring the actual plot of the AU outside of the shenanigans I usually post! The Narrator can now drink liquids and eat food, and the first thing he and Stanley do is get hammered…

#the stanley parable #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #tspud #tsp #the narrator #tsp narrator #tsp fanart #htbh au #their first fight #first bit of angst too #but that’s in the next part #be prepared yall…..#what happens when the emotionally suppressed god-like entity stuck in his own created purgatory gets drunk asf? find out next time!

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dreamersparacosm · 3 months ago

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ahhh i read the entirety of under the checkered flag last night and got like 4 hours of sleep 💀 so so good! i’m curious can we get jungkook’s pov of what went on in his head when oc rejected the first kiss that led him to sleeping w that model bc i wanna knowww!

ok so i have had many thoughts on this. not even kidding ive been shook by this request bc it’s so REAL. like, yeah i also want to explain what this man was thinking… bc perhaps it may not make sense why he is the way he is.

at the end of the day… he’s toxic internally and that is ALL he’s known before you. i mean, the guy has fucked so many girls in a past life.

this is how i see it.™️ if you disagree… well, good luck charlie (I don’t write for the weak.) enjoy!!

warnings ; talk of previous sexual activity!

prompt ; in which she isn’t you.

part of the under the checkered flag universe

He knows.

God, he’s known for as long as he’s been in your presence. It’s not your fault, nothing you can contain. He’s just known that you were never his to claim.

When he invited you to the afterparty, a tiny part of him, some subconscious section of his mind, hoped you would deny the invitation, so that he wouldn’t have to keep dreaming of you, dreaming of what your lips would feel like against his, dreaming of your touch against his warm skin.

He knows many things, but what he knows for certain is that he should not have brought you onto the balcony.

“You were really something out there today,” You speak softly, and his brain goes to mush, palms sweaty and hesitant with some sort of desire he can’t contain. Any form of a compliment from you causes his breath to hitch.

All he can respond with, after a gulp of saliva, “Yeah?”

You don’t dare look at him. He just stands there, inhaling your scent from a mere few inches away, trying to collect a part of you he can’t touch. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

And the thing about Jungkook is he’s received compliments in his lifetime. Too many to count. From fans, from reporters, from faceless voices who say his name like it belongs to them. They’ve called him beautiful, breathtaking, a living work of art. They’ve told him his voice drips with a smooth tone, like honey and sin, that his body was carved by gods who took their time. He’s learned to accept it, to let the words wash over him, to detach from them entirely.

But when it’s you? When it’s your voice, soft and careless, dropping a compliment like it means nothing?

It kills him. He feels devastatingly and utterly ill.

Because you’re his friend. That’s what you’ve always been. And that word friend feels dirty in his mouth now, like a lie, like a word someone else assigned to the two of you before he ever had a say in it. He barely even knows if it means anything anymore. Not when you look at him like that. Not when your voice wraps around a simple, thoughtless phrase like it’s just syllables in a nonsensical sentence.

There’s more words exchanged, things he doesn’t fully process because he’s so stuck on how beautiful your curves look in the dress Jisoo picked out for you, the dress he sent her money for and told her not to tell you.

He doesn’t really process anything until you say, “ Sometimes I think I like being alone so much because it’s the only time I don’t have to be anything for anyone else.”

It’s so inherently him, the things that you say sometimes. You’re a mirror image of him, some version of himself looking back, only better. Sharper where he is dull, softer where he is rough, a perfect contradiction that somehow fits him more than he fits himself. You say things he’s thought a thousand times but never dared to speak aloud. You see the world like he does, or maybe you see it clearer, untainted by the noise, the expectation, the weight of what people want him to be.

That’s how he knows he’s royally fucked.

He can’t be just friends with you, not when your voice slips into his thoughts so effortlessly, lodging itself in the quiet spaces between his ribs. Or, not when your words make his skin feel too tight, his body too aware, his heart too loud in his own chest.

Not when it feels like you’re crawling inside his head and making a home there.

His body moves before his brain does. He can barely breathe, every hum of oxygen being ripped from his lungs when he shifts to look at you, stare into your eyes that longingly look into his own, like you’re analyzing every part of his soul.

There’s a glimmer of hope behind his eyes, he knows it.

He feels it like a heartbeat in his throat, pulsing, thrumming, betraying him. He’s staring at your lips, watching, waiting, praying for a sign that you’ll kiss him back if he lets himself cross that final, irreversible line. Every fiber of his being is screaming at him to do it.

He needs to close the space, to drown in you, to let his hands map the curve of your jaw and finally give in to the thing that’s been eating him alive from the inside out.

He reaches out, brushing the lightest touch against your wrist. It’s barely anything. Yet, there’s a slight hesitation from your body language.

You take a step back. Small, barely noticeable. It’s enough.

It’s enough to tell him he’s made a mistake, that he can’t cross this barrier, can’t shatter the fragile thing you both pretended was friendship, can’t be so foolish as to believe that this could survive the weight of his want.

You swallow, exhaling shakily. “We’re just friends.”

Three words, that when put together, shatter him completely.

God, he’s known this whole time.

Then, slowly, because it’s all he can muster, he smiles knowingly. “I know.”

He offers to go back inside, and you smile sweetly. There’s an awkward silence that takes its place between you two, and he immediately distances himself from you. From a few feet away, he watches you shuffle over to Jisoo, whisper something in her ear, and she walks with you towards what he assumes is the restroom.

The grave mistake he has made is so irreversible he wants to kick himself in the face.

He marches right up to the bar, asking for a whiskey on the rocks, something he hasn’t dared drink since he met you.

Realistically, you ruined it for him. Ruined everything. Whiskey used to be his escape, his sharp-edged comfort, the thing that burned just enough to remind him he was still alive. But then you happened, and suddenly, nothing tasted quite the same.

Tonight, however, he drinks. He drinks like he used to. He lets the dark liquor scrape down his throat, letting it seep into the cracks of his mind, letting it pull him back into old habits.

It’s easier to fall back into the emptiness, to slip into the hollow space where his ego and his loneliness curl up together like old friends. To let himself believe, just for a night, that the answer to whatever this ache inside him is doesn’t have your name on it.

He doesn’t want to be the man who can’t sleep without the ghost of your touch. Doesn’t want to be the man who looks for you in every crowded room, even when he knows you’re not there.

So, he downs another glass. Then… another.

At some point in the night, he stops caring about where you are. Stops caring if you got home safe, if you’re tucked into bed, if you’re even thinking about him at all.

He starts wanting something simple.

A mindless thing. He craves something that doesn’t look like you, doesn’t talk like you, doesn’t make him feel like his skin is too tight over his bones, like his heart is clawing its way out of his chest every time he breathes.

So when a model—one he’s had before, months ago, a lifetime ago—slides up next to him, trailing a perfectly manicured hand down his arm, he doesn’t even blink. He does not react when she leans in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, asking in that sultry, practiced voice, “Your place or mine?”

He should feel something. Excitement, relief, even just the slightest flicker of interest.

But he feels nothing, just a dull, gnawing ache in his chest, the kind that no amount of whiskey or soft skin or easy pleasure can fix.

Still, he nods… takes her hand. Prays to every god he doesn’t believe in that it works this time (Except nothing works. Nothing ever fucking works. Because no matter who he touches, no matter whose lips ghost over his skin; they are never you. And that is something he will never be able to drink away.)

So, the next time you see him, when you inevitably find out, when you stomp to his house, all rage and jealousy, everything he knows fades to dust.

Now, surely, undoubtedly, you are his to claim.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

#I am the problem™️#wrote this shit wine drunk and I am scarred from it #the man was in HELL without her #hope this helps anon!!!!!#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts army #bts jungkook

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