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honeyatsu · 1 month ago

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Last Thing Remembered | Bob Reynolds

Bob Reynolds x f!reader

Synopsis: After a mission leaves you tipsy and forgetful, Bob takes it upon himself to take care of you. And he remembers everything.

Warnings: MINORS DNI. 18+. Smut.

stand alone. one-shot.

(a/n: another fic dedicated to my bby Bob. I am obsesseddddd. I can’t get enough. He’s literally rotting my brain rn.)

drunk in loveeee ~* (everyone say thank u Beyonce for inspiring me hehe)

masterlist | ao3

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The elevator feels smaller than usual — a tiny space with too many walls, too many buttons. You’re not sure how you got to where you were, you weren’t even sure you wanted to be home. You remember laughter, a little bit of teasing and touching, soft music, great champagne, a usb.

You smelled faintly of expensive champagne and sultry perfume, a reminder of the gala you were sent to, arm-in-arm with some sleazy tech bro who laughed a little hard at his own jokes. A few drinks in and he almost became charming, even a little cute.

The mission itself was simple: charm the bad guys, blend in, gather intel. You did your job, maybe a little too enthusiastically. No one said it was a crime to add a little leisure to your mission, especially when it was complete.

The elevator door slid open with a soft hiss, the ‘ding’ being a little too loud for comfort. Your lipstick is smudged at one corner, your dress scrunched from the bottom and a strap hanging loose, and your heels slap against the ground as you stumble into the common area.

The area was calm but full, you try to focus your hazy vision on the team lounging about. Ava and John were lounging on the couch, Yelena tossed a stress ball from one hand to the other, Bucky leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed with an expression halfway between amused and disappointed. They’ve been waiting for you to return.

“You’re late,” Yelena points out, looking at you suspiciously.

The only response you’re able to offer is a giggle as you kick your heels off your feet, kicking them off to the side.

“She’s drunk,” John added, with a sour laugh. “Figured they’d send our social butterfly to seduce the mark.”

“I wasn’t seducing him,” you slurred out, shooting a glare and pointing a finger at no one in particular. You begin to wobble where you stood as you try to find your balance. “I was infiltrating. That’s different.”

“Sure,” Ava snickers. “Infiltrated real well. Just look at your dress.”

You open your mouth for a rebuttal, but instead a small hiccup sound escapes. It was followed by you clutching the counter for support, and you pulling out the USB from inside the chest part of your dress, slamming it down on the counter.

“See? Job done.”

You hear the disoriented sound of laughter surrounding you as you try to stand on your own.

That’s when you feel it — the gentle brush of fingers against your elbows, warm and grounding.

“Easy,” a soft voice said behind you. As steady and safe as the grip held onto you. It’s Bob.

He hadn’t laughed, not once since you wobbled back into the tower. Instead he looked at you as if you were the most fragile thing in the room, wondering how no one else managed to be as concerned for your state as he was.

His hands lay firmly on your back as he positions you to stand for yourself.

“c’mon,” he murmured. “Let’s get you to bed.”

No one protests when he begins to gently steer you towards the elevator. Bob ignores the eye rolls and snickers he hears as he allows you to use his body for support.

It’s almost endearing, how it feels to have you use his body to help stabilize yours. The smell of alcohol and the state of your dress leaves him worried, but he tries to push any ideas he has aside to focus on you. To focus on how your holding onto him, mumbling to yourself, “standing s’hard” or telling Bob he’s “being too loud” even though he hasn’t been saying anything.

Once you get to your room, he lets you lean against your bathroom door frame as he starts your shower. He looks back at you after he checks the water temperature, seeing you half-awake, fighting yourself not to drop to the ground.

Bob quickly rushes to your side, lifting you up and walking you towards the shower. He lightly shakes you, trying to prevent your eyes dropping more than they have.

“c’mon, don’t fall asleep in the shower now” he tells you in a hushed tone. You blink up at him with heavy lashes, mumbling out incoherent words. “hm?”

“Help…” you hiccup, “Need help with my dress…you help.”

Bob's eyes widen when he sees you trying to lift up your dress, taking your free hand to grab his and pull it to the bottom to help you lift it. Luckily for him, you’re not able to use your full strength right now, and he notices the zipper at the back of your dress.

“No, I don’t have to do that,” he quickly slips his hand away from yours, and slowly helps you turn your body. “I’ll just help you with your zipper here.” He tries to ignore the heat forming behind his ears, his shaky hands as the zipper slowly exposes your back. The more your skin starts to show, he looks away. Letting out an awkward cough and taking a step back.

“I left a towel for you.” He begins to step out, slowly shutting the door. “Be..be safe.”

When you step in, the steam curls around your skin, the hot water hitting you and striping away the scent of the evening. The cologne, cigarette smoke, the citrusy champagne — any evidence of the night has been washed away. You learn your forehead against the shower wall, closing your eyes, allowing yourself to find peace in the sanctuary of silence.

The rest of your shower passed by in flashes, a soft knock at your bathroom door bringing you back from your haze. Your hand was heavy, nearly weighing itself down as you took multiple attempts to turn your shower rod to stop the water from hitting your skin. You grab the closest towel and use it to start drying yourself, but still struggling to be completely mobile.

Another faint knock at the door caused you to pause, wrapping yourself in the towel and opening the door.

There stood Bob, still waiting. He hadn’t left, making sure to listen in case you fell, or preparing to be ready to get one of the girls in case you fell asleep. He stutters a bunch of nothings, seeing you in just a towel, still having water droplets dancing around your shoulders.

You let out a soft yawn, your exhaustion finally catching up to you. You don’t care who’s around, what you’re wearing, or where you are…you just want to sleep. You turn your head seeing your bed calling out for you.

You couldn’t stop your hands from starting to unwrap the towel around your body, but luckily, Bob was able to catch you quickly, stopping you from exposing yourself to him.

“Wanna sleep,” you whine out, a pout forming on your face. You look up at Bob, doe-eyed and desperate.

“D-don’t do that…” he stutters out, still holding on to your hands. While he is concerned for your well-being, he is also grateful you’re too wasted to notice the redness in his cheeks.

He looks around everywhere but you, trying to think of a solution fast. He didn’t think to lay out sleep-wear for you, and truthfully, it didn’t feel right to go through any of your things. Bob resorted to taking off his sweater, and passing it to you. He tried to ignore how you eye his naked chest up and down, or how you breathe in the sweater he handed to you.

He took it upon himself to turn his body away from you as you put it on. You drop your towel to the ground carelessly as you begin to sway yourself to bed, luckily his sweater was able to cover all of you.

As you tuck yourself in, Bob brings it upon himself to put your towel away and turn off your bathroom light. He turns to you, and smiles as he sees you comfortable, hugging the blanket into yourself.

He sits himself next to you at the edge of your bed, placing a mini-water bottle from his pocket to your nightstand.

“You good?” he asked gently.

You nodded, pressing yourself into the cold pillow.

“I..I got the data,” you hiccup, turning your face just enough to look at Bob. “The bad guy was…kinda cute. ‘Nother drink and I might’ve forgot I was working.”

You laugh at your own joke, light and careless, not oblivious to the things people say about you. You’re a flirt, unprofessional, and can't separate work from fun. But you don’t care, because you always get the job done.

Bob seems to care though, his smile fading just a tough, a muscle twitching in his jaw before he attempts to smooth it away.

You don’t miss this, squinting at him, catching the shift in his expression. You can read people like a map, especially Bob. There was no hiding from you.

“Are you…jealous?”

“I’m not —“ he clears his throat, averting his gaze from yours. “You were drunk. I was worried. Anything could happen to you.”

You sit up quickly, dizzy but determined. You reach out, poking his chest trying to get his attention back. You wanted him to look at you.

“Ya don’t gotta worry. I’m a professional,” you’re giggle, looking up at him, fluttering your lashes. “Plus…don’t tell anyone. You’re my favorite person. The cutest.”

Bob looks at you, jaw slightly dropped. It’s as if you just struck him, you don’t know what you’re doing to him.

“Can I try something?” You ask, not waiting for a response.

You cup his face with both hands, his breath hitching at your touch. His eyes locked into yours like he was terrified you would disappear if he blinked.

You kiss him, a soft press to his lips. Gentle and searching for a response. He melts into you as you deepen it, pushing your body closer, your hands slowly beginning to tangle his hair.

But Bob gently pulls away with a quiet breath, trying to ignore the look of disappointment on your face.

“I can’t,” he whispered, forehead now resting against yours. “Not like this. You’re drunk. This isn’t..this isn’t right. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“i’m not…okay, maybe a little,” you admitted. “But my feelings…they’re real.”

“You’re not going to remember this…” Bob sighs out, as if he’s convincing himself more than he’s convincing you. He pulls his head away, giving you space to lay back down.

Neither of you break the silence. He just stares at you as if you were the sun, bringing more light into his life as things were.

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The morning after felt as if you got struck by a truck. Even trying to think through the fog and static felt like using more of your brain than what was available. Your mouth taste like stale liquor and cotton, every breath you take feels like a punishment.

You woke up curled sideways on your bed, expecting to still be in the dress you wore last night. To your surprise, you’re wearing Bob’s oversized shirt and nothing else. You don’t have the energy to even wonder how or why — your skill pulsing in sync with your heart beat. Each throb is a punishing reminder of bad decisions and fake flattery. You groan as you flop your arms over your eyes, the thin sunlight from the blinds behaving as a torture tool for your brain.

The tiny bottle of water on your nightstand is warm and now accompanied by a small bottle of painkillers. There’s a small note placed next to them, in messy handwriting reading: Drink this. and Rest.

You squint at it, recognizing it to be Bob’s handwriting, his gesture not becoming lost on you. He has always had the habit to be quiet and thoughtful, trying to make everyone’s lives easier by doing something as convenient as washing dishes. He had the kindness you couldn’t help but be grateful for.

But this time, he left no space to say thank you because he was already halfway down the hall before you were able to notice.

Downstairs, the Tower was alive with noise. A little too alive for your taste, feeling as if you are a live example of the walking dead. There’s loud blasting music echoing from the gym, bright and shameless laughter bouncing off of the walls. It was unfair.

After taking a few painkillers and gulping water, you shuffle towards the kitchen. You feel as if you are floating by, like a hungover ghost being forced to haunt the too lively tower. Your socks skid slightly across the polished floor, regretting every step you take away from the safe haven that is your room.

“Sleeping beauty rises,” Bucky calls out with a teasing lift from his coffee mug, Ava smirking behind her own.

Yelena leans across the counter, fighting the playful smirk forming on her face. “I still can’t believe you were our best option for the mission. Did intel come with a side of cocktails and a visit to a suit?”

You groan, you’re not mentally prepared to go through this show. “I did the job, didn’t I? And gross, I didn’t go to anyone’s suit. I was just doing my job.”

“Sure you did,” Ava teases, her eyes glinting. “…But only after dancing on a table.”

You blink in response, unable to say anything. You don’t remember dancing on a table. Did you? You really hope you didn’t.

Everyone was pitching in their teases, anything to get a subtle reaction out of you. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, because you always did what needed to be done regardless.

Bob was the only one who said nothing. He was leaned against the wall, arms folded loosely over his chest, watching you. It was a look close to concern, tempered and quiet. It’s almost as if he was trying to not show it.

When you meet his gaze, he blinks and looks away before you’re even able to offer him a weak smile. Out of nowhere, he is deeply interested in his coffee mug.

You found yourself spending most of the day in your room trying to recover from your hangover. It wasn’t until you woke up from (another) nap where you woke up groggy and incredibly hungry that you found yourself in the kitchen again, preparing food for your personal dinner.

To your surprise you found Bob there already, you offer to make something together as opposed to him just settling for cereal.

You’re peeling carrots as Bob stands besides you, sleeves pushed up cutting potatoes with careful precision. It was silent at first when you first started — just the sounds of knives and clinking of the cutting board.

“You feeling better?” he finally asks, voice low and gentle.

“Yeah. Just…hungry. and embarrassed.”

He gave a soft hum in response, now looking at you with soft eyes. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eyes. His brown hair is a little shaggy and eyes follow your subtle movements. The edge of his sleeve brushes your arm as he unconsciously scoots a little closer, looking at you as if he’s studying you.

“You’re staring,” you call out with a small grin.

He freezes, just for a second, knife hovering above the board. “I wasn’t.”

“You were,” you sang out, nudging his elbow playfully. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he said, eyes flicking to your lips and then away again too quickly. “Just…making sure you’re okay.”

You tilt your head, offering a soft smile. “Thank you, Bob. Always looking out for me.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, as if there was something tugging at his chest. But the clatter of footsteps approaching called for an end of the moment. Bob scoots away, causing a short distance between the two of you.

The tension between the two of you was indescribable, something unspoken and unnamed. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you decide you’re overthinking. You’re probably just still embarrassed.

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The team debrief was just like any other, lazily sprawled around the Tower’s coming area. There’s a little bit of laughter from Yelena, there’s side conversations and some disinterest in the other members' own side conversation

You’re leaning into the couch cushions, holding your legs into yourself, half-listening as Walker and Ava argue who would be the one to take the next assignment.

“It’s another social infiltration job,” Bucky cuts in, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “Lots of eyes, charming handshakes…winning folks over for a little information. A dinner party this time.”

Yelena snickers and nudges you with her foot. “Your specialty, no?”

The comment was light-hearted, making the group around you chuckle while sharing knowing looks at each other.

Bucky doesn’t join in. He crosses his arms, looking across the room like the idea itself was wrong.

He clears his throat, “We were actually thinking of someone else…this time” he drags out.

You sit up straight, “What?”

“There’s…concern,” Bucky quickly states, his eyes quickly flicking to Bob. “Last time was a little messy. This mission can’t afford to be a little messy.”

The words landed heavy and cold, insulting at very best. Your stomach twisted; a frown begins to form on your face.

“I got the intel,” you spat. “I did my job.”

“No one’s saying you didn’t” Bucky responds calmly, hands up. “But we can’t afford someone being one drink away from forgetting they’re on a mission.”

The room is watching the two of you in silence, and you have to pretend not to notice their eyes on you now — waiting for your response. You can only bite your lip, trying to find a way to respond without letting the lump in your throat take over.

“I’ll do it,” Yelena cuts in, not unkindly. “I clean myself up well enough.”

“Great,” Bucky drags out, quickly moving on to the rest of the details .

You barely nod, swallowing the hot lump that has forced its way on your throat. The conversation moved on without a second thought for you, and it all became white noise after that. All those insecure thoughts you’ve had about yourself and how you do your job slowly begin to arise.

It’s not the first time you’ve been second guessed when it comes to your job. You’ve dealt with that since you first started your career. You’ve always been too much.

You just didn’t think they would think so too.

Before thinking you stand up, muttering quietly about needing air. Walking off before anyone could think of stopping you.

You couldn’t even make it to the rooftop, opting to just head straight to your room. You shut the door behind you, letting your spine rest against it. You don’t even notice the pressure in your palms due to your hands forming a fist.

You could’ve done the mission. You could’ve done it well, you always do. But everyone (as always) thinks you can't handle yourself. And worst of all, you wonder if they aren’t even wrong about it.

The memories of the last mission come out in fragments, like stilled pictures flashing through your mind. After receiving what you needed, instead of leaving, you lost control. You can’t even remember how you got back to the Tower.

Your eyes burn as your tears finally begin to fall, now sitting at the edge of your bed. Your fingers tap against your bedsheets, trying to calm yourself.

They were right. You can’t handle yourself. You’re nothing like them, too social, unserious, why were you even here?

A soft knock at your door breaks you away from your thoughts.

You don’t answer right away. You want to be alone, you want to wallow in self pity and debate on whether or not you should even be here.

But after a moment, it opens gently, and Bob steps in. He hovers near your door, hesitant.

“Can I come in?”

You give a small nod, sniffling to yourself and wiping the tears from your eyes.

He closed it behind him and waited a few seconds, unsure of where to begin. After gathering his thoughts he slowly begins to step towards you, sitting at the empty spot next to you.

“I didn’t want them to say it like that,” he said. “I would’ve told you myself.”

“Told me what?” you sniffle.

Bob's hands wrung together, thumbs playing against one another. “What you said that night you came back. What you did.”

Your chest becomes tight, you have to remind yourself to breathe. You don’t remember much of anything, and the endless possibilities of what you could’ve done flashed through your mind. You're silent, not even sure if you want to know at this point.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you,” he whispers. “But I think…maybe you should know.”

Bob stares at you, waiting for a response, waiting for any sign that he should proceed. You nod, barley, your heart thudding against your chest like a drum.

“Well, you came back super late. Drunk. You were stumbling, everyone kind of teased you a bit. I just helped you upstairs.”

It dawns at you that you don’t remember any of this.

“You said the target was….cute. Said something about almost forgetting it was a mission.” He takes a deep breath, “That’s…scary. Anything could happen to you if you went on a mission like that again.”

You don’t say anything, feeling a little bit ashamed. That’s why Bucky said what he said, because you made a fool of yourself and proved yourself a liability more than anything.

Bob glances at you, then quickly looks away before confessing the next part. “And then, you…kissed me.”

Your heart drops to your stomach. Any color from your face has been drained. It’s silent as you process what he’s said.

“I—I don’t rem— I kissed you?” you reply with a dry throat.

Bob hums in response, now looking back at you. “It was just a peck at first. But then…you tried to do it again. More. I stopped you. I told you it wasn’t right, not like that.”

Embarrassment coiled hot in your stomach, trying not to believe the mess you’ve made of yourself.

Bob reaches out, slowly brushing his fingers against yours, careful not to scare you away. “I said you were just drunk. But then…you said your feelings were real.”

Your body goes still, your brain short circuits in place. You can’t say anything, your tongue is stuck, twisted in your mouth. Technically, it isn’t a lie. You have had a small crush on the guy for some time, how could you not?

But that was between you and yourself. It wasn’t something that was ever supposed to be out. Especially not to him.

“I-I don’t know if you meant it,” he added. “I’ve been trying not to think about it. Because if you didn’t, it’s mean. And if you did…”

“I did,” you interrupt. The words slipped out fast and breathless, trembling at the edges. Fuck it, you decide. What’s the point in keeping it a secret now?

Bob's eyes widen slightly, mouth agape as he becomes at a loss for words.

“I understand i’m very…friendly,” you say, your cheeks begin to burn up, you let your eyes fall to the closest thing in front of you. “But what I said…or did. I mean I was drunk. I don’t remember. But I’ve had feelings for you for a while. I just..”

“I have to,” he interrupts shamelessly, like he can’t contain it. “For a while now..” He says the second part quietly, with a slight tremble to his voice.

Neither of you said a word, silence blooming between the two of you. Neither of you are looking at each other either, both finding sudden interest in your comforter, until you spoke up again.

“I’m not drunk now…” You whisper, slowly lifting your head to look at him. You see his Bob freeze, his finger twitching against your comforter. You scoot yourself a little closer, grazing your pinky on top of his. He lets you.

You lean more forward, softly lifting his chin with your free hand so he can face you. You brush your mouth against his in a whisper of a kiss, gentle and experimental. Bob didn’t move, his breath hitching as he let you lay soft pecks on his lips.

“Can I…?” Bob whispers between your lips. You nod once, allowing him to plant a kiss on you, pulling you against him tightly, as if he was holding his breath.

It’s careful; his lips fully taking in yours, savoring every second like he’d dream of this. He’s touching you where he can, a light squeeze to your thigh, a soft caress to your jaw, his fingers tracing your waist as if to memorize it. It was gentle, like you’d dissolve between his fingers if he did too much.

Neither of you want to break apart, finally being able to taste one another, being as close as you’ve only imagined. It becomes sloppy, the breathing and physical declarations of want. Need.

You lean into him more, your fingers slip into his strands at the nape of his neck, your want increasing as you feel him melt into you. Every soft exhale he gave when your mouth parted against his was swallowed like oxygen. Pulling him closer, just so your thighs brush outside of his, Bob doesn’t resist. He jolts in response, as if he needs permission to get closer.

Brushing your lips against his, you whisper, “Tell me to stop.”

“I won’t,” he confesses

You bring it upon yourself to remove his shirt in one smooth motion. Your eyes begin to trace every inch of skin, every defined muscle Bob hides under his baggy wear. It was almost devastating, realizing what he’s been hiding from you all along.

Bob is watching you with a hazed expression, as if you admiring him is unreal.

“You can touch me,” you say in-between kisses.

He palms your thighs, letting his hands slide up and down them, giving you a soft squeeze. His hands slightly tremble as they brush your arms, then at your waist; feeling the shape of you. He looks you in the eye when gets to the hem of your shirt, only lifting it gently once you nodded in approval.

He admires you, your bare skin in front of him. Vulnerable and trusting. He tilts you back slightly, experimentally, then softly palms over your breast. His eyes don't leave your chest as he begins to thumb over your nipple, causing you to let out a soft moan.

The soft sound from your lips causes Bob to go primal, his dark eager eyes watching you make a face he hasn’t seen on you before. He lowers his head, kissing along your collarbone, then each kiss after that going lower; his hands following the direction of his mouth, mapping your body like he had to memorize it.

Each breath came out more desperate than the last, every second his lips parting making you want more. You gasp as his mouth reaches your breast, followed by his hands fondling them, grazing your nipple with his tongue before he takes it between his lips.

“Bob,” you whine, tanging his hair between your fingers, subconsciously arching into him.

His name sounds different coming from your mouth now. You say his name like it’s a desire, like he’s something you want to ruin you. It belongs in a bedroom between sheets, his name is no longer platonic.

Bob pushes you back against the mattress, looking down at you in disbelief and awe. He places a peck on your forehead before settling between your thighs. You open them for him without a second thought, you’re aching for him.

He breathes out your name as he presses a palm against your most sensitive area, your hips jerking in response; looking for any form of friction. He could feel you dripping through the thin cotton of your shorts.

“Can I..?” he whispers, his eyes searching yours.

You slightly raise your hips, giving him the freedom to do whatever he pleases with you.

“Yes. Please.” Your response is instant.

He slips your shorts off slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin he begins to uncover. He doesn’t miss any; from your thighs, your hips, all the way to every soft dip you have. Bob was going to make sure there was not one part of your skin his lips would not touch.

You inhale sharply when he finally touches you, his fingers gently slipping inside of you. He trails along the wetness carefully, as if he was afraid to break you too fast. You thrust up, desiring more; instead he takes his thumb and slowly begins to circle your clit.

He’s teasing, you think. Groaning at his slow movements. Your head drops back as he takes his time exploring you, finally allowing two fingers to dip between your folds, dragging through the slick warmth.

“Bob,” you groan, digging your nails through his shoulders, rolling your hips greedily.

He lets his mouth follow his fingers, a quick kiss and then a slow teasing lick. You cry out at the sudden contact, your hair now buried in his hair, the other fisting the sheet.

“Fuck, Bob — Oh fuck!”

Bob groans against your heat as he buries his face into you. Your reaction to the wet glide of his tongue exploring you, bucking your hips into him and moaning his name drives him insane.

He loses himself in your pleasure.

He listens to every sound, every whimper to see how he could get more out of you. He works you open with long patient strokes, letting his fingers slip inside you as his tongue teases circles over your clit. Your hips stuttering causes him to get sloppier, wanting to completely wreck you.

“I’m. — fuck,” You breathe. “I’m so close. So close.”

He raises your hips slightly, thrusting his fingers into you in a new angle. He watches how your face contours in pleasure through his wet lashes. The faces and sounds you're making have Bob desperate. He begins to rut against the mattress as he pleasures you, desperate for any form of friction.

You come like this, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he helps you ride out your release. He remerges, shiny and determined to feel more of you. To please more of you. After he kicks off his pants he moves you over again, pressing your thighs apart. He looks at you, waiting for permission, looking for any signs of hesitation or doubt.

The sight of him causes you to gasp, he’s thick and hard. His tip is oozing with precum, swollen, waiting to be catered to. Licking your lips you guide him in by his base, lining him up with a breathless moan. The stretch causes you to whimper, but it doesnt stop you from tilting your hips to him. He kisses you through your broken moans, his arms hovering over both your sides, and forehead pressed against yours. Inch by inch he fills you, enoying the taste of you as your bodies find a rhythm.

“You feel..” he gasps out, his voice breaking. “God, you feel so good.”

It’s too much, he kisses you as you continue to moan into his mouth. He thrusts into you deep,each stroke heavy, memorizing how he is able to get your reaction. You wrap your legs around his waist, anchoring him to get closer, deeper – he buries his face into you. Your nails rake lightly down his back, he groans into your skin.

“I’ve wanted you,” he pants above you. “So bad, always wanted you..” His thrusts begin to get sloppier, his breath heavier than before. “Think about you all the time..”

You groan, imagining Bob fantasizing about you in his free time. You think about those nights where you just couldn’t fall asleep, thoughts of him flooded your mind when your fingers would find their way down your pants.

You let out a choked cry, your body trembling as you cum around him. Bob groans, his rhythm alternates as he feels you cumming while he’s still inside you. He does one soft roll of the hips before he begins to move fast, harder as he begins to chase his own high. He places sloppy kisses around your throat as he comes, groaning your name against your skin as if it was the last word he knew how to say.

You feel him collapse on you, your bodies tangled into one another. Skin slick with sweat and your natural juices, each of your lungs heaving for any source of air around. It takes a while before either of you decide to move.

Bob finally shifts to lift himself, a small smile forms when he see’s you under him; heavy-eyed and body limp. He lets his lips touch yours as you release a small stretch of your body. He gently pulls the blanket over the two of you, once again holding you like he was too afraid to let go, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Are you okay?” He whispers against you, and you hum in response. You’re exhausted, sticky, and sluggish. But the skin to skin is comforting, Bob holding onto you is tight. You can’t help but curl into him.

“So..Does this mean I can ask you to stop going on dates? Even mission ones?” he murmured against your hair.

You let out an exhausted laugh. “Yeah,” You whispered. “You can ask whatever.”

You let out a yawn before pressing your cheek against his chest, finding comfort in his hold on you. He presses one final kiss on your head, the two of you falling asleep in one anothers arms.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

A significant amount of time has passed since you woke up against Bob for the first time. That morning began with you placing kisses along Bob’s jaw, your hands finding where he is hot and hard. The two of you exploring each other’s bodies for a second time. It was natural, the two of you allowing yourselves to become one in the most intimate of ways.

Other than that, the days would blur together with regular mission boards, briefings, caffeine-fueled mornings and bruised bodies throughout the week. Life didn’t stop – the world's chaos continued, there was always a new crisis, and “heros” were expected to do their job. No matter what.

No, nothing’s really changed. At least not in a grand, cinematic way. It wasn’t like everyone knew, it wasn’t like anything was actually confirmed. Bucky gave Bob a few suspicious once-overs when you would sit besides him, a secretive smile and small touches that would linger a little too long.

Yelena, as observant as she is, being the only one in the tower to confront you. Something about “Finally climbing the golden retriever.” Whatever that meant.

The two of you weren’t exactly a secret, but it wasn’t some kind of headline either. It didn’t need to be. The days didn’t need to change. Everything could go on as before. Even with the slight differences.

Like Bob always finding your eyes first when he walks into the room. Or the way your hand would linger a second too long when you would pass him. In the unspoken gravity that would pull the two of you towards each other in the quiet hours of the night, and somehow this pattern repeating in the morning.

The two of you didn’t need a label. What you guys were exploring is still too new. Too delicate. The two of you now only don’t have to learn each other as teammates or friends, but as something closer. Softer.

He’s in the common room when you find him, half-lit by the screen glow, flipping lazily through the endless options of movies at the tip of his fingers. He was in his blue sweater, and you can only imagine his golden skin and muscles hiding under the fabric.

You grin, delighted as you make your way towards him. Your heart trips over itself everytime you manage to look at him.

“Somehow you’re always where I need to be.” You tease, curling beside him on the couch and stealing one of the throw blankets over your lap.

Bob smiles in response, a light pink hue forming on his face. “You’re the one who keeps finding me.” He squeezes your closest hand to him.

You shrug in response, “I like looking at you. You’re my favorite view in the Tower.”

Bob pauses, he looks at you, his fingers fidgeting into your palms.

“I’m falling for you.” He says, his eye contact not breaking yours. It’s your turn to blush, speechless. Your mouth slightly opens with no coherent words coming out. He lets out a soft chuckle, placing a kiss on your cheek. “I love you.”

You throw yourself into his chest, hiding your face with his body. You have a stupid smile on your face, like some love struck teenager who’s crush finally noticed her.

“...Yeah, I love you too.”

He laces his fingers through your hair, it was a quiet truth you’ve been carrying in your pocket. You didn’t think there’d ever be a right time to tell him.

“You remember what you said?” You ask him, finally lifting your head from his chest, no longer caring that your face is heated up and flustered. “About me not going on mission dates?”

“Mhhmmmm,” he replies half-playful, half possessive. “Still stands.”

“Well..” You chuckle awkwardly, almost struggling to get the next part out. “I think you should take me on one.”

“A fake date?” He asks.

“Yeah, but except it’s a real one,” You shyly state, trying to make space between the two of you, causing Bob to pull you into him.

It’s a privilege, being able to place a kiss on you whenever he feels like it. He cups your face, peppering your face with kisses. You pretend to be annoyed by his antics, but they cause you to laugh softly. You kiss his lips in return, causing him to fully embrace you on top of him.

The other members who lived in the Tower were not pleased with what they walked into.

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charcoaldustonmyfingers · 1 year ago

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Tech Support: Part 3

[1-2-3]

Yes, this was a real thing we had to help with once.

Even though he complains, Donnie feels a lot of pride being looked to as the family expert for these things, I’m sure. For all that Splinter probably doesn’t know the deep intricacies of computers, I’ll bet he knows the basics. Could there be a deeper meaning to his confusion?

I personally headcanon that Splinter is the one who introduced computers, phones, and appliances to his sons way back in the dumpster diving days, and probably showed Donnie how to fix his first toaster or something. However, the special interest kicked in hard and pretty soon Donnie could run circles around Splinter when it came to fixing and engineering stuff. Perhaps, this is a way Splinter can find time to partake in Donnie’s interests and boost his confidence despite being way out of his depth on technical know-how himself.

When you don’t have a lot, it’s important to be resourceful and handy with a quick fix. Donnie had to have started building stuff somewhere!

It makes it all the more bittersweet if they were really close only to have Splinter struggle to bond with Donnie when he’s a little older. Don’t worry though, they’ll figure it out :)

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt comic #rise donnie #rise mikey #rise raph #rise leo #rottmnt donnie #rise splinter #t*cest dni #let Splinter be a good dad #I think everybody could use a little heartwarming parental love in their lives #even if family can be really annoying sometimes lol

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alpha-mag-media · 2 years ago

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Drew Barrymore Show members kicked out for supporting actors strike | In Trend Today

Drew Barrymore Show members kicked out for supporting actors strike Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

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#Celebrities #Drew Barrymore Show members kicked out for supporting actors strike #Money #Motors #Politics #ShowBiz #Sport #Tech #Trends #UK #US #World

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ur-mag · 2 years ago

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Drew Barrymore Show members kicked out for supporting actors strike | In Trend Today

Drew Barrymore Show members kicked out for supporting actors strike Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

View On WordPress

#Celebrities #Drew Barrymore Show members kicked out for supporting actors strike #Money #Motors #Politics #ShowBiz #Sport #Tech #UK #US #World

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moonlit-imagines · 10 months ago

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Headcanons for being the Justice League’s computer intelligence

Justice League x reader

warnings:

a/n: THANKS BABE. this is such an old request i am so freaking sorry

prompt: anonymous: “Hello! I would like to request a Justice League (DC Extended Universe) + Reader who is sort of their 'Person in the Chair' - helping behind the scenes to keep their weapons/powers/skillset in tact, but is not afraid to fight back if necessary? I would like these to be a set of headcanons, please? Thank you and Happy Writing! P.S. You're writing is incredible!”

you and alfred got along well

“glad i’m not the only one doing the grunt work anymore” -alfred

“and i was under the impression you loved this job” -you, sarcastically

you could frequently be found switching between important sites that actually helped during missions and reddit

“alfred hang on i want your opinion on this: ‘am i the asshole for trying on my bosses suit? i (25m) work with some pretty famous people and my boss (45m) has a really cool suit. it’s a little stiff but i think i like it. anyways, there’s a matching hat (if you will) and it smells AWFUL, so i sprayed it with febreeze but it only made it worse—’” -you

“hang on. this cant be…” -alfred

“HOW DID YOU FIND MY REDDIT ACCOUNT?!” -barry, over comms

“your name is scarletspeedster, and we’ve been trying to wash that febreeze smell from the cowl for weeks.” -you

“my god, barry. next time, just use an old suit” -alfred

“really?!�� -barry

“no” -you and alfred

you do a lot of gadget/weapon design with JL members

“it’s acceptable” -bruce

“wow, thanks” -you

“it’s…it’s good work. i mean it” -bruce

diana sits with you and tells you stories, sometimes theyre very informational

“so if you ever do end up fighting, you’re going to want to craft a very nice sword for yourself. i know you’re good at that, you’ll do just fine” -diana

barry nerds out with you sometimes

he gets real excited when he sees you designing stuff on the computer

and tries to be helpful

“wind resistance might be a problem with this design, you should go sleeker” -barry

“hey, barry? if you don’t let me do my job im gonna design a tool specifically to shut you up” -you

“harsh!” -barry

“sorry, maybe a little too far. but let me work” -you

arthur wanted cooler clothes

“can i get you some material from atlantis so you can make me a nicer suit?” -arthur

“only if you bring me extra so i can have fun with it” -you

“not a problem for the king, its a deal” -arthur

clark didn’t really need/want much

but he was a great help when testing new weapons and suits

“can you just…laser vision that target right ahead. new suit material” -you

“yeah, stand back” -clark

it held for a good 20 seconds

“better than i thought” -you

you were their eyes in the sky on missions

directions, lookout, enemies, obstacles, detours, you name it

and yeah, maybe victor could also do a great deal of this stuff, but you got to do it behind the scenes and you actually got paid pretty well for it

but occasionally you did ask him for tech support

“victor, the batcomputer froze” -you

“i know, i did that on purpose” -vic

“can you unfreeze it so i can see what’s going on?” -you

“what’s the password?” -vic

*sigh* “ilovevicstone123” -you

diana let you spar with her sometimes

which honestly scared you every time bc you know she could kill you if she wanted to (but you knew she would never)

(but she could)

you’d never be apart of the justice league, which was very okay with you because you loved being behind the scenes and not being shot at

and so long and you had tea with alfred while the rest of them were kicking ass, you’d manage

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

#justice league #justice league x reader #justice league imagine #bruce wayne x reader #diana prince x reader #clark kent x reader #barry allen x reader #arthur curry x reader #victor stone x reader #batman x reader #wonder woman x reader #superman x reader #aquaman x reader #flash x reader #cyborg x reader #dc comics #dc comics imagine #dc comics x reader

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kxsagi · 3 months ago

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heyyyy, how are you doing???:)

so I've been seeing a lot of bllk x fem!reader fanfic yk those typical "sneaking in" and "dressing up as a guy" to fit in blue lock. may I request about what the blue lock 11 starters' reaction would be when they found out? i can picture isagi making up different possible scenarios as to how reader hasn't been found and lock off by ego considering he's very VERY meticulous with every player's information? please don't mind this request if you're uncomfortable ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡ thank youuuu, have a nice day:)

“𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬”

a/n: heyyy, i'm doing good! i hope you are as well, pretty

thank you for the request, this was more fun to write than i expected!

(art credits go to kaziris_ on x)

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito, otoya eita, yukimiya kenyu, aryuu jyubei, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, niko ikki, gagamaru gin

isagi yoichi

spirals. immediately.

“wait. no. that’s not – wait. how?? ego checks everything. he runs background checks, medical records, locker room rotations –"

cue isagi pacing like a madman at 2 AM trying to piece together how you avoided getting caught.

at one point he’s literally scribbling plays on a whiteboard like it’s match analysis: “okay, so if she never showered when anyone else was around, and faked voice cracks at key points… wait. WAS THAT WHY YOU NEVER CHANGED IN FRONT OF US???”

he’s not mad. he’s actually kind of amazed.

"you're like... the greatest tactical deception of blue lock."

itoshi rin

“... i knew something was off.”

lies. he did not know anything. he’s just salty that you were better than him in the last scrimmage.

lowkey respects your ability to deceive the system. no one else could’ve pulled it off.

“well, if you're still here, guess it doesn’t matter. just don’t think I’ll go easy on you because you're a girl."

surprisingly neutral, but his eyes linger on you more often now.

nagi seishiro

“oh. huh. that’s why your hands are so soft.”

not phased in the slightest.

honestly thinks it’s kind of cool that you tricked everyone. “that sounds like a pain. but also kinda genius.”

keeps accidentally calling you “dude” out of habit and then awkwardly correcting himself: “uh. dudette? nah that sounds weird…”

karasu tabito

laughs SO HARD he literally cries.

“bro. BRO. you mean to tell me you were out here breaking ankles and gender norms???”

starts making up fake backstories about how you smuggled a fake mustache into the dorms or used voice-changing tech.

100% wants to know how you did it. every detail. for science (and blackmail).

otoya eita

the flirt switch FLIPS IMMEDIATELY.

“so you're saying i wasn't crazy for thinking you were kinda hot?”

annoyingly smooth about it. calls you “princess” just to see you get flustered.

absolutely refuses to stop flirting. even more now.

“if you needed help keeping the secret, you could’ve asked me. i’m great at keeping things under wraps, baby girl.”

yukimiya kenyu

dramatic gasp. glasses off. slow-motion blink.

“you… you’re a her?”

the poetic side of him kicks in: “like a rose blooming in a battlefield…”

would never admit it, but he starts fixing his hair more often around you now.

supportive as hell though. tells you he respects your drive and the risks you took.

aryuu jyubei

strikes a pose and fans himself with his own hand. “mon dieu… the betrayal… you mean to say… all this time… i wasn’t the only icon here???”

says you’ve raised the standard of beauty and elegance in blue lock.

insists on giving you a makeover “to match your true self,” even if you’re like, “bro please no.”

might actually fight otoya for flirting too much.

bachira meguru

gasps in dramatic anime fashion.

“NO WAY! you’re a GIRL?! THIS IS AMAZING!”

he’s totally hype about it. takes it as a challenge, like, “you were able to sneak by the whole blue lock team?? you’re a legend, let’s be best friends forever!”

starts calling you “mystery girl” and constantly refers to you as his “partner in crime.”

“i knew you were special, but this is next-level. no one can keep a secret like that and still play like a monster!!”

chigiri hyoma

goes very still. blinks. stares.

“... wait. you're serious?”

he has a lot of emotions. probably more than he expected.

part of him’s like, “hell yeah. girl power.” and the other part is like “oh no she’s hot.”

quietly covers for you when needed. he gets what it’s like to be underestimated.

niko ikki

poor boy.exe has stopped working.

you tell him and he literally just stares with wide eyes like a deer in headlights.

doesn’t know what to say for the longest time. then mutters, “i... always thought your voice was kinda nice.”

gets super flustered afterward and avoids eye contact for three days straight.

gagamaru gin

“HUH???”

pure confusion. “but… you tackled me last week. and cursed at me. in a super deep voice. i thought you were just… intense?”

he's like a golden retriever trying to understand algebra. but he means well.

“wait does this mean we weren’t supposed to share toothpaste???”

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the-kick-of-bones-malone · 11 months ago

Note

hmmm, last time we rebooted router? A while ago maybe, but there were a few power outages recently so I dunno man🤷‍♂️

Other apps I got are fine, Tumblr just won't show images boohoo

at least I can still view texts😔

I'd say reboot the router and modem, that could help you get through to the internet for some of the things that aren't loading. Plus, if you're not on a UPS or battery backup of some sort, and there's outages? That'll just mess things up, and if you're particularly unlucky, some things could get upsetti spaghetti. But if you're on a surge protector it'll be alright.

#tech support kick #character interaction #cod ghosts #kick cod #call of duty ghosts #whassup?#kick thoughts

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thebiscuitlabryinth · 4 months ago

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[prev]

Life rolls on, not quite easily but peaceful in all its hardships. As the months unfold, Healer falls into a sense of general contentedness with both Plain Yogurt and the village at large, enough to assume that this routine will continue for the foreseeable future.

It ends suddenly, in the middle of the night.

One of Healer's most inconvenient traits is his tendency to sleep rather deeply, so to be awoken in the middle of the night is already jarring enough for him. Worse than that is the thing that had woken him: an unholy, piercing screech that twists and reverbarates around the Raisin Cliffs and shudders the very earth beneath him. The villagers are clamouring outside the tent, and though he can't make out what they are saying, the sound is pitchy with panic and alarm.

Concern spikes cold in Healer's chest, and still slightly disoriented from waking up, he fumbles for his staff and immediately tries to rush outside. In his haste, he doesn't properly anchor his staff as he begins to move, tripping over his own feet and tipping forward. He doesn't even think to brace for impact before he finds a sudden hand catching his arm, startling him a little.

"Woah, woah, careful, don't crack yourself!" Plain Yogurt's voice meets him as he helps Healer right himself. Wrapped up in his alarm, he hadn't heard him moving around before. Plain Yogurt leads Healer's free hand to his upper arm and he takes the silent offer, latching onto him for support. "Here, let's go see what all the commotion is about, hm?"

Plain Yogurt sounds weirdly nonchalant about everything, but Healer just appreciates that he seems to have a level head in the midst of all this. He nods, readjusting his grip on his staff, making sure it is properly anchored this time. "Yes, quickly."

Outside, the sound is deafening, shaking the very air. It's even worse to poor Healer's ears, attuned as they are to pick up the nuances of sound. The chill of the night wind seizes their robes immediately, tugging them left and right, and Healer shivers. To his side, Plain Yogurt huffs out an incredulous laugh, almost covered by the din.

Healer turns to ask him what prompted that, but is distracted by the voices of the other villagers, still alarmed but less panicked. "No, no, that definitely wasn't there yesterday evening. We would have noticed something that big!"

"But where did it come from?"

"I don't know! I've never seen anything like that before, you know that!"

His concern only growing, Healer finally turns to Plain Yogurt, bumping shoulders to make sure he has his attention. "What are they talking about? What's there?"

"A crimson moon." Plain Yogurt says simply.

Healer pauses, shaking his head slightly as if he heard him wrong, through the slow waning of that horrible screeching. "A crimson moon? That is a rather odd occurence, isn't it?"

"Mhm. And," an audible grin slips into Plain Yogurt's voice, alongside something Healer could almost mistake as eagerness, "a castle in the sky."

"In the sky?" Healer repeats in disbelief, turning his face skyward even though that does nothing to prove this castle's existence to him. "What is it doing above our village?"

"Who knows?" Plain Yogurt sighs, with a shrug Healer feels through his hold on his arm. "It's impressive, though. A grand castle, with turrets topped with wafflecone peaks. Its shadow will swallow this tiny village whole when daylight comes."

A new sound suddenly floods the air, coming down in a wave of buzzing as a stray spark of magic energy snags on the dough of Healer's cheek. Flinching slightly, Healer frowns in confusion as shouts break out of the villagers, kicking Healer's concern back up to the surface with a healthy dose of fear.

"WHAT ARE THOSE?!"

"They- they look like, uh, robots?"

"They're heading towards the village!"

"Definitely robots, made of wafflecone too." Plain Yogurt supplements before Healer has to ask, still impressively calm, if not vaguely excited. "They're a pretty piece of tech, but I think we should probably go back inside. They look like they're gearing up for an attack."

Healer straightens up, his grip on his staff tightening as his heart lurches worriedly. "An attack? But why–"

"EVERYONE, HIDE!" Black Raisin's voice rises stubbornly over the muddled noise. "I'll try and hold them off!"

Healer trusts Black Raisin's abilities with his whole heart, but dread still pools inside him as he lets go of Plain Yogurt, turning in the direction he heard her voice. "Black Raisin, wait, let me-!"

A hand catches his arm before he can take more than a few steps as Plain Yogurt cuts in. "You heard her, my dear. Like I said, we need to hide."

Healer turns his head back towards Plain Yogurt with a stern frown. "But it's dangerous for her to go completely alone–"

Plain Yogurt's voice takes on a firmer, almost demanding edge. "She'll be fine, and if she isn't, she'll need you safe and in one piece to be able to heal her. Come on, in."

Plain Yogurt tugs on Healer's arm, but Healer hesitates, resisting against the pull for a moment. The buzz only gets louder, the wind bringing down an acrid, sweet smell as he hears the other villagers rushing around them, hurrying into the tents.

There's another, more insistent tug on his arm, and this time, Healer sighs and follows it. He understands what Plain Yogurt means, and Black Raisin would likely say the same anyway. For now, he will trust her to stay safe, at least enough for him to be able to patch her up afterwards.

So life rolls on, now far more stressful. The Wafflebots continue to attack, and they only seem to multiply as the weeks wear on. Healer is needed near constantly when they attack, and in the brief periods of respite, he is busy with making sure everyone's health is maintained under these continually deteriorating conditions.

Plain Yogurt was often by his side before, but now Healer insists he stay by him at almost all times. Black Raisin hasn't asked for his dispatch in a while, and they have both been acting civil enough in front of him, but Healer knows better. He might not see, but he can still feel the aggravated tension that builds between those two whenever they are around each other, and in a time of crisis, he doesn't want to risk anyone getting distracted.

Besides, Plain Yogurt helps Healer with the patients. He does basic first aid for the less urgent injuries as they wait for Healer to work his magic, and he helps to regulate Healer's condition too, getting him food and drink even when he doesn't want it.

Healer can hear him humming somewhere behind him now, as Healer gently feels around a patient's cracks. His fingers find the stickiness of jam, and he carefully traces the edge of the crack to judge the severity.

The patient, Choco Raisin, hisses quietly in pain, and Healer aches with sympathy. "Just a moment longer," he assures softly, "I just wanted to get a better idea of your injury."

He lays a light hand over the area, and channels his magic into the wound. It spills, warm and soothing, into Choco Raisin's dough, clearing the jam on the surface as it passes. Then, Healer weaves it tenderly through her cracks, deftly sealing them closed.

"There." He smiles, pulling away from her. "How does it feel?"

Choco Raisin takes a moment, presumably testing her body based on the sound of shifting clothes, before replying, "As good as new, like always! Thanks, Healer."

"I'm happy to help. Remember, though, take it easy for the rest of the day. Miracle healing or not, your body needs rest to recover from the stress of the injury." Healer reminds her with a hint of warning to his tone, knowing that Choco Raisin never likes sitting still for long. Sure enough, she groans an agreement, and Healer chuckles as he reaches for where he set his staff down.

His hand wraps securely around it, and a gasp escapes him as a familiarly foreign energy, cool like the feeling of early morning light, dances frantically down his arm. It curls around his heart, before settling in the dip of the hollow of his throat, all in the span of a second or less.

There is a moment of silence, and Healer realises that Plain Yogurt has stopped humming. He isn't sure when that happened.

"Are you alright, Healer?" Choco Raisin asks, concerned. "You're not hurt too, are you?"

Healer takes in a deep breath as the new energy fades into the depths of his dough, grounding himself. He can feel his staff reacting to something, pulsing as if it is trying to reach out and catch more tendrils of whatever it just found.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine." Healer says, managing a little smile as he pulls himself up to his feet, using his staff as leverage. He hears Choco Raisin follow his lead. "It's been a long day. I might be more tired than I thought."

"If you say so. Take care of yourself too, okay?" Choco Raisin's voice lifts with lingering worry, and Healer, touched by the care as always, nods with a hum.

He hears Choco Raisin say goodbye to Plain Yogurt over his shoulder and leave the tent, the closing flap masking the sound of her retreating footsteps. Healer sighs, turning to face where he last heard Plain Yogurt, probably sat by one of the tent walls. "That was the last patient for now, right?"

"Looks like it." Plain Yogurt replies, curt and dismissive, sounding like he always does when he doesn't care about a conversation. "Hey, what happened just now? When you grabbed your staff?"

Abruptly, there is an unyielding urgency in his voice, contrasting sharply with his previous curtness. Healer assumes, much like Choco Raisin, it stems from concern, and decides it probably wouldn't hurt to tell his closest friend the truth.

"Ah, I'm not too sure myself." He admits lightheartedly, tapping towards Plain Yogurt's voice and settling down somewhere near him, setting his staff down over his lap. He runs his hand along its stalk gently, as if petting it. The pulsing seems to have stopped, for now. "I felt a strange foreign energy coming from my staff. It seems to be resonating with something, though I don't know what that could possibly be. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was a surprise."

"Really?" Plain Yogurt's voice lifts like a song, as if intruiged, before dipping to tease, "That must mean you're something really special, huh?"

For some reason, those words embarrass Healer a little. He laughs, shaking his head. "No, not at all. I'm sure anyone with a strong affinity for magic would be able to resonate with whatever source is catching my staff's attention."

Plain Yogurt lets out a long, drawn hum, and then there is a shuffle of sudden movement. Healer feels their knees bump together, hears the scuffle of what must be Plain Yogurt's hands landing on either side of him, narrowly missing the length of his staff.

"You know," Plain Yogurt drawls, syllables curled with a smile, "I have a feeling something big is going to happen soon. Very soon."

Much like his random strange questions, this comment seemingly comes out of nowhere. Healer smiles back, playing along. "A good something or a bad something?"

"A good something. A very, very good something." Plain Yogurt pauses, then amends cheerfully, "For us, at least."

"Well, that's a relief." Healer turns his head towards the entrance of the tent, voice growing gentle. "After the hardship of the last few weeks, the village deserves something good happening for them."

Plain Yogurt clicks his tongue, a sharpened sound. He leans closer, close enough for his breath to ghost Healer's dough. That isn't really surprising, because he has quite the habit of leaning into Healer's space like this, but the angle of it is. His breath hits Healer's neck and collar rather than his cheeks, which suggests that his head is tilted down to look at something below Healer's chin rather than his face. Healer has no idea what he could be looking at, especially since he doubts his robes are a particularly interesting sight.

"No, no, not them." Plain Yogurt corrects, and there's that strange lilting tone of his again, the one Healer has never really managed to puzzle out. "Us. Just us."

Healer hesitates, confused by the apparent weight behind this distinction. "What do you mean?"

Plain Yogurt leans back, his breath receding as he shifts slightly, their knees no longer pressed together. "I don't know." He says, his grin loud. "It's just a feeling."

Once again, Healer gets the impression that Plain Yogurt knows much more than he is letting on. He genuinely considers pressing Plain Yogurt for information this time, but ultimately decides against it. Plain Yogurt said that whatever it is would happen soon, right? Healer will find out then. Besides, he also said it was meant to be a good thing, so maybe it would be nice to have a pleasant surprise waiting for him.

That night, PureVanilla Healer Cookie dreams that he is floating in a cold embrace.

"Pure Vanilla Cookie," a voice calls to him from nowhere and everywhere, a voice so similar to his own, "Pure Vanilla Cookie!"

That isn't Healer's name, but for some reason, he feels the urge to answer anyway. "Who's there?"

"There you are!" The voice coos, rippling through the nothingness. "You've kept me waiting for far too long, you know. Are you finally ready to face the Truth?"

"What?" Healer mutters, though alongside his confusion wells a traitorous dread, as if his body understands the implication of what is being said better than his mind.

"Open your eyes," the voice coaxes, "and confront the Truth you are so determined to hide from."

Healer realises, suddenly and anxiously, that the reassuring pressure of his bandages have vanished, leaving his bare face exposed. Fear bursts painful through his body, and his hands fly up to cover his closed eyes, pressing his palms into his eyelids in a mimicry of his bandages.

"No, you must confront the Truth." The voice insists, its tone relaxed and otherworldly but no less stubborn. "Open your eyes, Pure Vanilla Cookie."

"I- I can't!" Healer argues weakly, even though that really isn't his name, burying his face into his hands in an act of unspoken defiance. Nervousness prickles along his dough, making him queasy. "I'm sorry, I don't know why but I can't. It will be too much for me."

"Just once." The voice promises softly. "Just one proper look at its whole, ugly entirety and then you will never have to look at the Truth again."

Healer is quiet for a moment. The words affect him in two contrasting ways, both a comfort and a disturbance. The press of his hands against his eyes lifts slightly, less harsh in its rejection of the outside.

"Open your eyes, Pure Vanilla Cookie." The voice repeats and this time, past his fear and dread and uncertainty, Healer feels compelled to listen.

His hands slip from his face, and he cautiously squints his eyes open.

The world is a dark blur for a moment, not any different than the back of his own eyelids, before his eyes finally focus to the best of their ability. It is enough for Healer to realise that he is floating in a black void, with deep blue eyes surrounding him on all sides. They seem to glitter and glow like stardust as they stare at him, pinning him in place like a butterfly to a board.

Healer can only stare back, transfixed, as he sinks into velvety darkness.

When Healer wakes up, it is a slow, sluggish affair. Somewhere outside, he can hear the cawing of the raisin crows announce the daybreak, and it takes him just a moment too long of being conscious to realise the feeling of a hand in his hair.

Still weighted with dregs of sleep, he appreciates the feeling of fingers threading through his hair and the scratch of something against his scalp for a minute or two, before he finally has the presence of mind to wonder who the hand belongs to.

"Plain Yogurt?" He asks with a little yawn, because that's the only logical explanation. "What are you doing?"

The hand stills and pulls away. With his newfound space, Healer pushes himself up into a sitting position, rubbing at his own face in the hopes that will wake him up faster.

"Nothing. You were just tossing and turning so I wanted to help you relax. You need all the rest you can get, since you're so busy all the time." Plain Yogurt explains easily, voice slightly hushed in the early morning. His tone becomes sweeter, softened with honey. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Somehow, it sounds like it is worded as a trick question. Healer doesn't know what the trick could possibly be though, and answers honestly, "I don't know. I don't remember dreaming of anything."

"Mm." The sound is flat, but Plain Yogurt's voice is lighthearted, close to teasing as he says, "That's okay. I'm sure you'll remember one of these days."

"What about you, then? Did you dream of anything?" Healer asks to carry on the conversation, though he reaches for his staff as he does. He needs to get up for the day; the Wafflebots attacks could happen at any moment, and there will inevitably be Cookies in need of his help.

When his fingers wrap around the stalk of his staff, there is no familiarly foreign shot of energy. For a single, bizarre moment, he thinks he almost misses it.

"Nothing much." Plain Yogurt replies languidly, his voice rising and spreading through the air as he gets to his feet. "Just a little doll in the palm of my hand."

[next]

#posting this now before the costume stories strike me dead on impact first thing tomorrow morning #this one is a lot more all over the place but alas. Plot!#shadowvanilla #vanilla milkshake #pure vanilla cookie #healer cookie #shadow milk cookie #(← called plain yogurt here you know the drill)#blind man's bluff au #the biscuit library

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dumpywrites · 5 months ago

Text

Trophy Boy - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: Beauty privilege exists, that's why you're selling your hot best friend.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, model! Jungkook, soft! Jungkook, office worker reader

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

Word count: 5.7k

a/n: softie and goofy Jungkook is my weakness! and I know ya'll feel the same way :)

Yet another busy day at the office. You were sitting down in a slumped position in your cubicle, something you should probably change or would regret in the future. The hot air was not helping you at all and you were starting to sweat through your stripped shirt, despite the air conditioner being on full blast.

Boss just entered the room with the not-so-short rant targeted specifically to the marketing team. Apparently interest in buying plain tees and other basic fashion items were not the greatest at the moment, but if you actually were to be frank, it was more on the brand you were working at. Your boss was blaming things left and right, trying to find excuses to cope with his current losses.

The thing was with the big guy, was that he wanted huge impact while spending the smallest amount he could possibly afford. It was a somewhat clever business decision in terms of saving cost, but sometimes people just needed that extra boom. That go big or go home. If your boss wanted his brand to reach a new market of people, he needed to brave himself for greater risks.

“Sir, maybe we do need to endorse some big name influencers to help boost our social media exposure.” One of your co-workers spoke up.

“We cannot afford millions just for a few Instagram stories, moreover they charge more for a simple photoshoots.” Your boss replied with a groan.

“Sir, but if you look at how Calvin Klein promote their stuff, we obviously need some good looking people wearing and demonstrating how good our products could be.” The guy retorted. “Good looking people make basic items look good. That’s literally what they do.”

“Good looking people cost a lot, Hoseok. If you could somehow find me a drop dead gorgeous guy who would somehow accept anything under thirty dollars per hour, we’ll talk.” And with that the man walked out from the room.

“Well good luck on that, I guess.” Hoseok rolled his eyes with a smirk.

“At this rate you’re gonna get kick out.” You eyed the guy next to you. “We don’t want that, remember? We need you resigning with class, so that you don’t get a bad rep???”

“That man needs to know that whatever boomer shit we’re doing here, ain’t gonna boost our sales!” He protested. “You could buy plain white t-shirts anywhere, what makes us special?!”

“True.” You sighed. “I even heard the design team complaining about this.”

“If only we could afford that one handsome mukbang streamer who is everywhere right now.” Hoseok sighed along with you.

“If you could magically make Kim Seokjin to accept three hundred per hour I would literally worship you.”

“Do you maybe have any hot friends?”

“God, I don’t know?! Do you??? I don’t have any friends who are influencers or anything.”

“Can I see any group photos you have? They don’t have to be an influencer. Just gotta be good looking enough. The rest can be helped through styling.” Hoseok scooted closer.

“You sound crazy.” You eyed the guy, shaking your head. “Are we that desperate?!”

“Hey, maybe doing this could help me get that recommendation letter, you know?” Hoseok said smugly. “Now let me look through your friend group…”

“If you want a decent looking guy that we could revamp by styling later, Yoongi literally exists.” You said, suggesting the tech-support guy.

“He’s short. Although I get your point, would he even be willing to do so without actually killing any of us???”

“Fair enough.” You laughed. “Here, I don’t know, take a look at my friends, I guess…”You handed him your phone.

The picture you flashed on your phone screen was from a recent dinner hangout you had with your group friend of five. Hoseok throughly scanned the photo as if he was doing some detective work. It did not take him too long before an idea popped and he snapped his fingers. He straightened his pose and moved his chair closer to you.

“Who is this hunk with tattoos?!”

“Uh, that’s my friend Jungkook?” You eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t tell me—“

“He’s hot.”

You stopped and looked back to your co-worker’s direction. “He’s the most unserious person I know, we can’t—“

“But he’s hot.” Hoseok cut your sentence again. “He’s not like a model or something, right?”

“He’s a graphic designer…” You replied, unsure.

“Perfect! That means he won’t mind us underpaying him.” He smirked. “Do not argue with me right now, I know you agree with me.”

You eyed the guy again, searching for doubt and found none. The guy was dead serious about this.

“Fine.”

And that was how you found yourself assisting your friend for his now third photoshoot. After the first one being a huge success, your company kept asking for more content and for him to become their part time model.

Obviously your friend’s beauty was no news for you. Jungkook had always been cute in your eyes alone, way before he discovered Pinterest and basic styling. You had known him for a few years, the friend group was built around university days after all, and you had seen him through thick and thin. Literally though, you saw him transformed from this scrawny boy to a gym bro right in front of you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a few knocks at the door. You straightened your figure and told the person to enter.

“Hi, Y/N!”

It was Chaewon from design department. Her alongside with Jimin both work in the fashion area. While she designed the silhouettes, Jimin helped with the styling. Even though she was a normal employee like you, she actually was the CEO’s daughter. It was a known fact already, but she insisted to be treated the same as everyone else.

“Hi, do you need something, Chaewon?”

“I need to talk to you about something…” The girl said, looking nervous. She was fidgeting her fingertips and looking to other direction.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Jungkook’s your friend, right?”

“Uh, yeah… why?”

“I really need your help.” She put her hands together above her head. “I need a plus one to a wedding.”

“And you need Jungkook to help you?” You looked at her questioningly.

“Yes!” She said, nodding her head a few times. “Please, my ex is gonna be there.”

“I’m not sure if he’s willing—“

“I’ll pay.”

You froze and she continued again.

“I overheard you talking to Hoseok that Jungkook’s not getting the pay he deserves because he’s new…“

“Chaewon, you don’t have to—“

“Please, just this once??? If it makes you feel better I’ll pay you both.” When you stopped she added. “Is five hundred enough? I’ll give you the same amount.”

You gulped. So unlike her father, Chaewon was not at all stingy. Her offer sounded really tempting. While you wanted to say it sounded good in your head out of good conscious in you, because Jungkook deserved better pay, you also couldn’t lie to yourself that you needed the extra dollars at the moment. Accidentally dropping your phone from the stairs and having to replace the whole screen certainly did a dent to your savings. Not to mention how your car just broke down a month ago.

“I’ll… ask him.”

“Awesome. Let me know as soon as possible cause the wedding’s this weekend!” She smiled before exiting the room.

You spent the next few hours contemplating with your inner debate. It sounded rather wrong, but there’s no harm if he agrees to it? You thought.

“Hey, there!”

Speak of the devil. There he was, skipping through the office walking straight to your shared room. The muscle bunny, sometimes his duality scared you, how his facial expression and demeanor could switch in between takes and breaks. He looked effortlessly good with the brand’s blank white t-shirt hugging his body nicely. Let Jimin cook because he styled his hair wavy this time and it looked so good on him.

“Hello to you too, Mr. Model.” You shook your head, smiling. “Done with the shoots?”

“Yep. I finished an hour earlier this time.” He leaned to your table with a grin on his lips.

“You didn’t give Jimin and Chaewon a hard time, right?” You said, mentioning the design team.

“Nope.” He giggled. “Chaewon even said that I’ve improved a lot and I barely need any pose references now.”

“That’s great.” You said with your eyes still glued to the computer screen.

He hummed and took the empty seat next to you. He started flipping through his phone, not wanting to disturb you but also not wanting to leave.

“Aren’t you leaving? Hoseok’s meeting is done in like ten minutes. He’s gonna need that seat.” You pointed.

He bit his inner cheeks. “What time are you finished?”

“At five? And you knew this already, stop asking.”

“Who knows if I keep asking, one day you’ll get to clock out earlier.” He shrugged.

You chuckled. “You know you don’t have to wait up for me every single time.”

“You got me the job, it’s only fair. Besides, I’m not doing photoshoots every single day.”

Yeah and they’re underpaying you. You sighed. “Kook, I want to ask you something…”

His eyes lit up as he perked up, looking to your direction like a puppy. He nodded eagerly with a smile, waiting for you. “Yeah?”

“Chaewon asked me if you’d be interested on being her plus one at a wedding?”

The excitement in his face dropped almost instantly. You could see his eyes frowned at the question thrown at him.

“That’s weird. Why would she?”

“It’s a wedding and her ex is attending.” You explained. “She said she’ll pay.”

“Nah, that’s still fucked up though. Isn’t she the big boss’ daughter or something?!” He raised his eyebrows.

“But she’ll pay.” You repeated. “She told me five hundred…”

“Oh shit.” He widened his eyes. “For real?!”

You nodded. “Just say yes, it’s literally just a one time thing.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll help you out with everything.”

He breathed out a sigh. “Alright, only if you’ll help me out.”

“Great, I’ll let Chaewon know.” You turned your head quickly realizing Hoseok was already at the door. “Go home, don’t wait up for me.”

He shook his head and smile. “Okay, don’t forget to eat, yeah?”

“I won’t. See ya, Kook.”

He waved his hand to you with a big tooth-aching smile and headed towards the door. He briefly waved to Hoseok and the guy greeted him back before he went out.

“How are you not dating that dude is beyond me.” Hoseok suddenly blurted as he calmly took his seat.

You almost choked on nothing. “Excuse me?!”

“That boy is clearly into you. He basically waits for you every single time like an obedient dog.”

“Cause he’s my friend and I technically got him this job? He said it himself.”

“Sure.” He snickered, eyes immediately back to his computer screen. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will because that’s the truth.” You rolled your eyes and returned to your work.

As promised, you found yourself accompanying Jungkook on a Saturday morning, helping him choosing a suit. Jimin was kind enough to recommend you a good place to rental one. Man only had baggy clothes and baggy clothes only in his wardrobe, and for sure they were not a good fit for a wedding.

“Have you asked Chaewon what color she’ll be wearing?” Jungkook asked as he browsed through the hanger.

“Didn’t I gave you her number? You should talk to her you know, it’ll be less awkward.”

The guy puffed his cheeks, pouting. “Dunno dude… It still feels kinda weird to me. I’ll rehearse when I pick her up.”

“Oh, speaking of that. I’ve rented the car for you. It’s a Lexus.”

“Couldn’t afford a Porche or some?”

“I figured we don’t need to be that flashy.”

“I was joking.” Jungkook sighed with a smile. “It’s always straight up business with you, huh?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” You looked at him for a second, but proofing him right as your eyes quickly moved to the loafer shoes at the shelf. “I think these could go well with your suit.”

The man sighed again with a defeated smile on his face as he took the loafer to try them on. “This is fun too, I guess…”

“You mean renting an outfit and cosplaying as a rich person?” You quirked your eyebrow and grinned.

“No, I mean hanging out with you like this, silly. When was even the last time we hangout like this?” He chuckled, jumping up and down as he tried the shoes. “Would you look at that, I could probably dance in these!”

“We’ll take those then.” You gestured him to take them off and he did so. “I don’t know, back in college??? Back then when I helped you buying an outfit for—“

“Don’t!” With his eyes widened he immediately stopped you from finishing your sentence.

“Why?” You laughed.

“Do not even man… that was so embarrassing.” He covered his face. “My confidence level was through the roof thinking I could win someone with a bowl cut.”

“Hey, that bowl cut wasn’t so bad!” You chuckled. “Aww, I suddenly missed the cute and innocent looking Jungkookie…”

“You mean I don’t look cute and innocent anymore?” He batted his eyelashes at you jokingly.

“Taehyung thought you were a drug dealer when he first met you.” You folded your arms.

“He’s a judgmental person.” He clicked his tongue. “I am in fact still cute, you need to accept that.”

“Sure.” You giggled and patted him right in his tatted bicep.

There were some audible protests coming from your friend, but you let him be as you paid for the rented clothings and footwear.

After making sure all things were set, you texted Chaewon to double check on the time and place, as well as asking her on whether there was a specific topic she wanted to talk or not to talk. Jungkook still refused to call her or even text her personally, which is a bit annoying, but at the end of the day you were also getting that paycheck so you couldn’t complain too much, since Jungkook was the main performer in this after all.

“All good?” You asked him.

“Do you think I should take off my lip piercings?” He said, looking at the mirror.

“Nah, it’s fine. Chaewon already knows what she’s doing when she asked for you.”

“She specifically wants a bad boy for a plus one?”

“Now who says you’re a bad boy?”

“I thought we just had a talk about how I don’t look cute and innocent anymore???” He turned to face you. “Although, I’m not a believer but that’s your statement.” He shrugged with a big smirk on his lips.

“Your exterior yes, but you’re not fooling anyone with your personality, my guy. You’re a softie.” You chuckled and moved closer to fix his crooked tie.

A genuine smile was visible on his face. “Glad to hear that.”

Seeing his smile instantly made you did as well. “Nervous?”

“Me? Nah, never.” He dismissed.

“Of course.” You giggled. “Go, we’re so gonna try that new Japanese restaurant after this!”

And the party went well. Apparently Jungkook impressed all of Chaewon’s friends, even though they were not the main target and some were even aware of the agreement. Most importantly, he got her ex’s attention. He got the guy approaching, introducing himself, and seemingly pissed when Jungkook decided not to reveal his name to him in return.

In conclusion, Chaewon had a great time and both of you were paid handsomely. Oh, that wagyu beef you had together afterwards sure was delicious!

“I may need to borrow Jungkook again.”

You stared at the lady in front of you, fazed. Chaewon had just stopped you right after work, just randomly popping the sentence out of nowhere. You were not too sure how to react.

“I’ll pay again! Don’t worry.” She giggled nervously. “It’s just that, my parents actually think it’s good if I have someone with me to attend a shareholder party…”

“I see.” Was all you could say.

“They don’t know I’m paying both of you but they do think he’s one good looking arm candy…”

You sure did not like how she phrased that.

“It’ll be quicker than the wedding, it’s just a small dinner.” She reasoned again. “Can you ask Jungkook?”

“Why don’t you?” You cleared your throat quickly after realizing how that might sound rude. “I mean, you could just ask him?”

“I don’t think he’s that comfortable with me… He also talked to me through you, no? Please, I really need your help.”

“I…” The thought of your unfinished car payment started to fill your mind again. “I’ll talk to him.”

“I’m counting on you.” She quickly reached for your hand and shook it vigorously. “And uh, keep it between us but I think you’ll be getting a raise next month with your contribution and all.” She winked before leaving you.

The whole ride back home got you thinking deeply. Mostly considering your morals and common sense. Sure it was easy money on your part, and while Jungkook himself had not shown major complaints, you couldn’t help but to feel awful. You then decided to give him a call.

“Ye?” The guy on the other line sounded like he had food inside his mouth as he spoke.

“You busy?”

“Wait.” He said, seemingly taking his time to swallow. “No, I was just catching up on Squid Game with Bam. What’s up?”

“Chaewon kinda asked for your help again.”

��Huh?” He voiced, followed by an upcoming video call notification.

“Wait, do you really have to video call right now???” You swore you almost laughed, this man could be out of this world sometimes.

“I need your live reaction.” He chuckled. “And Bam too! Don’t you miss him?”

“Shit, hold on.” You quickly took a peek at your reflection in the mirror, making sure your at home appearance was at least presentable before you accept the call request. “You are so weird, you know that?”

“I’m aware.” He laughed and took his dog’s paw to playfully wave at you, making you smile.

“So uh, about Chaewon…”

“Oh yeah, that.” He frowned. “Do I need to go to another wedding? Damn, people must really care about the declining birth rate…”

“Her parents apparently wanted her to go to a dinner with the shareholders.” You controlled yourself not to make any weird expression, thinking about the word eye-candy Chaewon called him still rubbed you the wrong way.

“Oh, am I gonna get introduced as a model?” He beamed. “That’d be cool.”

“I don’t know.” You said, trying not to sound discouraging. “She’s gonna pay again though…”

“Ah…” He nodded, biting his inner cheeks. “I kinda need me a new camera…”

“So?”

“Yeah, why the heck not.” He shrugged. “Does this mean we’ll get another makeover montage moment though???”

“We don’t need to rent a suit for this but I’ll help you out with your outfit choices, I guess.”

“Cool, it’s a date then?”

You looked at him a bit weirded out but man just flashed you a big grin like it was nothing.

“What?! I mean it’s kinda like a date since I don’t have to dress all formal.” He chuckled.

“Of course.” You rolled your eyes.

“I wonder though, I’m not one to judge but can’t she have anyone, I don’t know… more normal?” He then threw a cheeto in his mouth, snacking on it. “She’s a rich girl who’s also conveniently good looking. I’m sure there’s someone willing to go without payment.”

“You think she’s pretty?”

“I mean yeah.” He said, casually crunching on another cheeto.

You didn’t know why a random opinion of his bothered you somehow, but you decided to shoo the thoughts away. “I don’t know but I think you’re underestimating the power you hold here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jungkook, you are aware that you’re hot, right?” That might be too bold of you, but you were feeling a bit frisky.

“Oooh~” He laughed giddily. “Didn’t know you think of me that way but thank you.”

“Don’t play dumb, I wouldn’t offer you the job if I thought otherwise.”

“I’m so telling the others. They need to know that you find me hot.”

“Jungkook, what the hell—“

“Matter of fact, I’m gonna invite Taehyung to this call…” He snickered.

“What?! No!” You quickly pressed the end call button out of panic.

A text notification showed up immediately after the line ended, filled with a bunch of laughing emojis, saying that he was just joking and that he would see you on the next photoshoot. You wondered what made your heart doing summersaults but it did for a moment.

“What do girls even like?” Jungkook asked you as he put on his leather jacket. “I probably won’t need this since I won’t be riding my bike, huh?”

You were sitting on his bed, one which had a few clothings messily displayed. It was an off day but you needed to help him with his outfit for another “gig” with Chaewon. The supposed job was not until the next day, but you had to visit your family hence why you were meeting a day prior. To be frank, you didn’t think he even needed you, considering you knew how he dressed on daily basis, but somehow he kept insisting that he needed your opinion as a woman, his words not yours.

“Just be yourself.” You said as you looked at him from top to bottom. “Do not loose the jacket, it’s nice.”

He put the outer back on, admiring at his reflection on the mirror. “You think?”

“I’m sure you go on a lot of dates… I assume.” You gave him a look.

“Oh, you think so?” He chuckled.

You looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t know? It’s not like I know your private life like that. When was the last time you went out on a date?”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin in a comical way. “Last month, I think?”

You almost asked on why you hadn’t heard any of it, but you felt like it wasn’t your place to. “Oh? How was it?”

“It was okay-ish.” He shrugged. “I think she liked me I dunno…”

“You seem disinterested.”

“You gotta try dating apps man… it drains you so much mentally to the point you start thinking everyone’s the same and nothing really matters.” He laughed.

“You sure you’re not exaggerating?”

“Maybe I am just a bit.” He chuckled. “But man… I’m so fed up with people!” He said, joining you sitting down on his bed.

“Then why don’t you just delete the app?”

He shrugged. “At the end of the day I’m still a human being who needs someone. It gets lonely sometimes.”

“I wanna say working is a great distraction but let’s be honest it’s not.” You shook your head.

“What ever happened to that guy that Namjoon introduced you to?”

“Didn’t quite worked out. Plus, that was like what, five months ago??? Keep up with the news, please.” You laughed.

“And no one told me?!” He looked at you, pretending to be offended.

“It’s not exactly the most interesting story to tell… He’s a nice guy but two weeks into knowing him, he had to move to Singapore for a job.”

“Damn, that’s sad.” He clicked his tongue.

“He’s not exactly my type anyways.” You chuckled.

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows, instantly getting a judgy look from you. “How exactly is your type then?”

“I like my men like I like my food.”

“Girlie, you eat anything.” Jungkook slanted his eyes.

“Exactly, I’m not picky. As long as they’re honest and kind… I guess.”

He booed. “That’s boring.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a smile. “Hey, I’m a simple person. And in today’s world it’s hard to find someone who has those traits, you know?” You hit his arm. “What about you? Being a model and all now must have set a new standard for you, huh?”

He laughed. “Nah, I don’t really have a type either. I just want someone who matches my freak.”

“That’s gotta be hard.” You giggled.

“Hopefully not.” He grinned. “I mean, you kinda do…” He looked up at the ceiling, playfully whistling.

“Aww, Kookie~” You cooed, teasing him.

“I’m not joking.” He furrowed his brows like a kid.

“Of course not.” You chuckled and ruffled his already messy hair.

Jungkook protested and grabbed your wrist to stop you, but for a moment both of you stopped at eye level, just looking into each other. Your teasing grin slowly faded to be replaced with a tense gaze. The dark round pair of orbs were now staring into your eyes.

Your mind was short circuiting when he suddenly moved closer. Your eyes squinted shut immediately, but nothing really happened after that. Jungkook just laughed it out and softly pushed you off him.

After the second agreement ended successfully, Chaewon had decided to come back yet again asking for Jungkook’s help. For sure she couldn’t be having that many social events to attend to, but apparently she did. This time, she needed him for her school reunion, said that it’d bad for her rep to show up alone after introducing him to her so-called friends just recently.

This time, you were at your limit though. You weren’t so sure how Jungkook felt about the whole ordeal, but you on the other hand felt terrible. You could not just keep continuing and pretending like you weren’t basically selling your friend for money. And so after taking a deep breath, you politely rejected her offer.

“Oh, come on! It’ll be the last time! Please???”She pleaded.

“You need to ask him then, and uh… if he ends up agreeing you don’t have to pay me anymore. I kinda feel bad….”

“Guess I have to ask him myself then.” She heaved a sigh. “I’ll ask him after his photoshoot today.”

“I don’t mean to offend you in any way though, I just feel like I’m exploiting him.”

“No, don’t worry I get it.” She smiled, waving her hand in front of her face.

When you arrived at the set the photoshoot was nearly on its end. As usual you get to monitor a bit and asked the staff about the progress. What was odd and new to you was seeing Chaewon being touchy with Jungkook. You knew she was a stylist and it was her job to take care of his looks during the shoot, but the high pitch laughs? Did she really need to touch his hair like that? And why did Jungkook seemed fine and joked back with her. The photographer definitely did not have to say that they look good together too.

You did not hear anything from Jungkook after his photoshoot. You were busy with your job, mostly trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were too scared to ask the guy, you were even too anxious to meet him just at the thought of him finding out about your agreement. You didn’t get the chance to find out the event but kept wondering if he had agreed or not. Seeing how friendly they were today, maybe he did say yes to it.

You also wondered since when did you start feeling jealous over this whole situation. Maybe that one moment between you and Jungkook that day really did something to you. He was about to kiss you, wasn’t he? Or maybe you were just going crazy.

Funny enough, you thought the lad had went home straight after his photoshoot, but he surprised you with two cups of boba in his hands right after work.

“You’re still here?!” You were surprised.

“I didn’t wanna bother you, you seemed very focused today.” He giggled and handed you one of the drinks. “Let’s find somewhere to sit and finish the drink, I’ll take you home after.”

You gulped, the anxiety starting to consume you again. “O-Okay.”

Jungkook seemed to notice the nervousness in the tone of your voice as he looked at you, but he didn’t say anything. You two walked towards a nearby bench outside the building and sat down. It was chilly and you could see the wind blowing his hair nicely, making him look straight out of a movie scene.

“Thanks… for the boba.” You said, a little nervous.

“Chaewon kinda gave me an offer again…”

“Oh.” You said, avoiding his eyes. “How did that go?”

“I don’t know I’m still thinking about it.”

“I see.” You said, trying not to sound too unenthusiastic about it.

“She said you don’t wanna be involved anymore though.” He stopped walking. “Did I do something wrong??? If it’s about what happened last time I’m terribly sorry…”

“No! Jungkook, you’re not the one who should be apologizing here!” You sighed.

“Why?”

You couldn’t find yourself to explain further. “You should just say yes, it literally means no harm.”

“But why don’t you wanna help out anymore?!”

One thing about Jungkook was that he sure was one hell of a hard headed man.

“I just have more stuff I need to handle outside work and I don’t have the time.” You lied.

Jungkook looked at you with doubt but nodded anyway. “But we’re okay though, right?”

The big round eyeballs were looking at you, as if pleading. Who would say no to that.

At this point you were sure there was something wrong with you.

You knew Jungkook had to come today for some extra footages. That was why you were trying your hardest to not leave your room and made yourself look busy. Hoseok seemed to notice your weird behavior but this time the man said nothing and let you be.

You managed to avoid your friend for an insufferable few hours, until you had to go to relieve yourself. You saw Chaewon and Jimin first, but then the person who you were suppose to avoid popped out from the restroom, seemingly just done changing back to his own clothes.

Your eyes met immediately and of course his first reaction was to flash you the brightest smile he could. You could tell there was a hint of awkwardness in it, but you didn’t want to further ponder on it.

You waved back timidly, hurrying yourself to the toilet. You even spent a good ten minutes there, hoping they’d leave, but when you were done, Chaewon and Jungkook were still chatting in front.

Chaewon smiled in defeat and grabbed you by your arm. “I just got rejected.”

You widened your eyes and instantly jerked your head towards your friend. The guy only smiled in return.

“Guess you guys are really a bundle, huh? Maybe I should consider asking our tech support guy.” She chuckled.

“Why don’t you just date for real? I could introduce you to some guys.” Jungkook said.

“No, not right now at least.” She giggled. “Too bad, you can’t help me anymore, it’s not exactly easy to find people who would just agree to this.”

“Really?” Jungkook voiced. “I thought you’ve done this before.”

“Why do you think I even paid your friend here just so you could say yes?” She laughed, not knowing the information she had just revealed.

“Oh, you also got paid?”

“Excuse me, if you guys don’t mind I still got work left undone.”

Without looking back you quickly escaped the scene and half-ran to your room. Neither of them came looking for you afterwards so you assumed you were at least safe for the day.

That was again until you saw a certain Bambi eyed, boba ball looking man waiting for you at the front entrance.

“You finished early today.” He waved. “Wanna get some corndog? I—“

“Jungkook, why aren’t you mad at me?”

The guy looked at you for a second before speaking. “Why should I be angry at you again?”

You sighed. “I got paid without you knowing. I basically sold you.” You looked away, trying to control your emotion.

You heard his sigh and his shoulders drooped as he walked closer to you. “No, you didn’t. I also got paid and I enjoyed doing the job.”

“If you enjoyed it then what’s the difference if I’m involved or not? I’m sure you don’t need my help.”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” He took a last sip of the drink in his hand before setting it aside. “I only agreed just so I can spend time with you more, dummy.”

You were lost of words.

“I thought having a crush on you was a phase but it turns out I really do like you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh dear, I hope I’m not making this weird for you.” He chuckled nervously.

Your mouth went slightly ajar as you froze in place. Jungkook liked you?

“I’m sorry again for that day. I tried to kiss you, it was weird and you seemed really scared. I still can’t get that image out of my head.” Seeing you being all silent he started to panic. “Say something… please.”

You were still processing the whole thing. First thing your friend having feelings for you, second being you seemingly discovering that you were not opposed to the idea and your heart was beating so fast it could explode in any moment. So the weird feeling you had been feeling the past few days, weeks even, was something after all.

You looked up at him, eyes almost teary. “Hold on let me process this.”

“I’m so sorry, you don’t have to say anything back! I’m just gonna go—“

“I like you too.” You shyly smiled.

“Oh.” The guy’s cheeks turned pink as he giddily smiled back. “That’s nice…”

“Uh huh.” You giggled.

“So, wanna hold hands?” He looked away as he offered his hand to you.

You expected him to be more on the confident playboy type now, guess you were wrong. Guess the same boy you knew still existed.

You smiled, cheeks turning red as well as you took his hand. “You are such a nerd.”

Both of you walked hand in hand that night, feeling all warm inside despite the cold night air.

Thank you for reading! 📸

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook

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honoredalone · 1 year ago

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𐙚 I’D RATHER BE KISSING YOUR WAIST

❝ move slow, i don’t wanna get in your way. well the words in your mouth sound cool but i’d rather be kissin’ your waist ❞ keep it up - chase atlantic

♡ gojo satoru is the strongest, but that didn’t leave him without his scars. internal and external. the biggest scar making him shy away, but that didn’t stop you from loving it.

content: talk of scars, self doubt, negative thoughts, sad baby satoru, slight angst, tooth rotting sweetness

heavily inspired by @colonelarr0w, “tracing satoru’s scar”. go check out their works!! they’re amazing, so go support!!

it’s ugly, satoru thinks it’s the most hideous thing on his body. the gross texture, weird color and the memories behind it. the scar circling his waist makes him sick to look at. everyone knows how confident satoru is, well how could he not be? he’s the strongest after all, but even the strongest has his moments of weakness and the scar is just a permanent reminder of just that. he resents himself for it though he’s only human.

“what’re you doin’ there sweet girl?” his voice is raspy and deep from fatigue, a long day of teaching at jujutsu tech will do it to you but he always looks forward to this time of day. when he can lay in bed with you, cuddled into your warmth, his hand caressing the small of your back lovingly. your hand drifting down his torso above his black t-shirt. he didn’t usually wear t-shirts to bed but after the fight he could barely look at his own body without being ashamed so naturally he hid is body not only from himself but from you too. he knew you wouldn’t be disgusted by something so trivial but he couldn’t heal the insecurity that leaked into his brain.

“nothin’ ‘ru just wanna love you.” you whispered, your head resting on his toned chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. your fingers slowly moving to the hem on his shirt. you didn’t miss the way his stomach clenched when your warm hand drifted under his shirt. “you’re so handsome.”

“baby, wait.” satoru almost whines as your fingers feather over the ragged skin. his other hand softly holding your much smaller wrist. you heard the way his heartbeat sped up, the way his breathing became uneven.

“satoru, love.” you sat up, your eyes connecting with his. you hated seeing him so broken over something so small, something that you didn’t care about. nothing about the scar that decorated his beautiful pale skin deterred you away from him whatsoever, he’s your satoru.

“please.” he didn’t know what he meant by that but his eyebrows furrowed together, crystal eyes filling with tears. “it’s not pretty. it’s ugly.” he quietly admits, hand still wrapped around your wrist while the other still sits at the small of your back, thumb caressing you so tenderly. it upset you he thought about himself like that, it crushed your heart. he couldn’t help the fact that the wound scarred and it wasn’t his fault that it made him self conscious but you wanted to show him that it, of course, could never change how you felt about him.

you move to sit on his lap, his hands going limp and laying flat on the plush covers before they find your waist, squeezing your sides affectionately. looking at him for silent permission to push up his shirt slightly, he only looks at you like a kicked puppy before giving you a tense nod. you slowly push up his shirt, just blow his chest. his torso as gorgeous as always, fair skin strong and smooth. he was beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful. he took your breath away everytime, before and after the wound. you rest your hands onto the scar, thumbs softly rubbing the rough skin. his breath shook, he closed his eyes to prevent tears cascading down his blushed cheeks.

“you’re so handsome satoru.” your voice soft, melting over him like honey. he could just sob, he was barely keeping it together when he felt your warm breath fan over the wounded skin. “my pretty boy. so beautiful.” you place soft kisses, all over. his hands shook on your sides as his fingers tighten attempting to dampen his nerves. his words were stuck in his throat, he could barely formulate a sentence in his head because what could he say. open mouthed kisses making his stomach warm and tickle slightly, making his head spin.

“fuck, sweet girl. i love you. love you ‘s much.” his words wavered as he spoke, his mind nearly blank. kissing up from his waist, to right below his chest he sits up, wrapping both of his arms around your waist. he looks at you so sweetly, almost defeated. his arms retracting from around you to the neckline of his black shirt, slowly taking it off and discarding it to the side and looking over your face again. he knew that he couldn’t fully look at his scar and not feel badly but he could learn to like it, just because you did.

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sceletaflores · 8 months ago

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it’s the easiest thing (just love me and eat me)

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 6.1k

anon says: nat pls speak on sub!logan...people are hating on the sub!logan agenda and someone needs to show them that they're wrong and it can be done cuz if anyone can convince them it's you mommy!

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, crimson! again! she's back!, slight angst, swearing, violence, light gore, somewhat dark content, religious symbolism? (idk this one got weird babes), established relationship, lowkey a toxic relationship but you didn't hear that from me, sub!logan-ish, handjob, p in v, slow sex turned rough, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, pain kink, scent kink, blood play, blood...eating (drinking? idk), porn with a tiny bit of plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: anon i'm so sorry this took me so long...i hope it was worth the wait! it started as a short smutty drabble that somehow turned into…this? idk it got out of hand so fast. i am a proud member of the sub!logan nation but that's mostly because i think that ALL men have the potential for sub vibes like doesn't matter who he is if i want to fuck him he's probably a little subby. special shout out to my baby boo and fellow sub!logan truther @avocado-writing <3 tysm for sharing anon! xoxo mwah.

dividers by icon @saradika-graphics!

psst! want more logan and crimson? here's the to the bone au masterlist!

it’s not often that logan needs this, but you’re always more than happy to give it to him when he does…

The team had a big scare earlier in the day.

It was supposed to be an easy mission, bust a mutant trafficking ring in Albany. You do assignments like these every week, and as sick as it sounds, it’s almost routine.

But this one was different. It was an ambush, and you were compromised.

Only humans, but they were smart. Waited until the team split up to attack. They had tech, things you'd never seen before.

Big guns loaded with tiny darts full of an ominous red liquid.

It was your fault really. You didn't clear your surroundings, so focused on getting to the kids that you let yourself get sloppy.

The tiny sting in your back barely registered, you don't think you would have even noticed if it didn't kick in so fast.

You'd never felt anything like it before in your life.

It didn't hurt. The rush of pain you braced yourself for never coming.

The sensation was strange—like your body was shutting down, piece by piece. You fell to your knees, shaky legs folding under you in less than a second.

You felt empty, wrong. An eerie silence trickling in to fill your insides.

Panic bubbled beneath your skin, but you were too numb to feel it. Trapped in the mounting weight of your limbs, the slow blink of your eyes, the shortness of breath despite hardly moving.

Your hand slipped across the gritty cement, reaching for support that wasn't there.

That was when you saw it, the shock of it was enough for your heart to drop. Your skin, blanched and sallow, the veins in your arms black and spreading like spilled ink.

You tried to fight it, tried to will your body to move, to react, to do something. You had to get up. You had to. The kids.

As hard as you willed yourself, there was nothing. It was like your body wasn't your own, like it had become something completely foreign.

You could barely make out the tiny voices calling for you. Pleading, frantic yelps of your name fading into a dull hum as everything went hazy. The edges of your vision blurring into a narrow tunnel.

He stepped in front of you, the same one who shot you. A cynical grin on his face and collar in his hand. You'd seen collars like it before, used on mutants to muzzle their abilities, to weaken them.

You tried, fingers barely twitching by your. Nothing. Just another shock of that cold, unfamiliar feeling shooting through your body.

“Got a big one, boss.” The man boasted into a comm strapped to his wrist, his voice sharp and grating. He took a single step towards you, smug grin still stretched across his face. “Yeah, real nice lookin' one too. She'll sell for—“

A muddy roar pulsed through the molasses filled haze of your ears, six claws flying through the air to embed themselves on either side of the man's skull with a wet, stomach-churning sound.

The collar dropped from his slackened grip with a dull bang, shattering into different pieces that slid across the floor haphazardly. A mess of wires and metal.

There were rushed footsteps before he dropped to his knees in front of you, his torso bathed in a dull glow from the overhead lights yellow shine.

There was blood splattered across the side of his face, slicking the front of his suit enough to reflect light off the leather.

Logan, perched in front of you like an angel.

Not one with a golden halo and a harp, but a indescribable mess of eyes and wings looming over you calling 'be not afraid'.

You'd never seen him so shaken before. All wide-eyed and pale as he checked you over for any major injuries. His breath coming in short bursts, hands frantic and shaky as they skated along your body for the viscosity of blood or uneven shift of a break.

He refused to let you even try and walk on your own, swept you off the floor and cradled your trembling body to his chest as he called for help. The beat of his heart was fast beneath your cheek, strong enough that you could feel it even through the thick leather of his suit.

You buried your face deeper in the crook of his neck, the pit in your stomach barely warmed by the feel of him. His scent is strongest there, so much so that in a room full of spilled blood, you could only smell him.

He was careless stepping over clawed up bodies littering the floor like a messy maze of twitching limbs and entrails. You didn't even know there was more than one guard in the room.

The evidence of his love for you, of his devotion, oozing red on the concrete.

Logan didn't even give the carnage a sideways glance as he raced you outside, back to the jet.

Trusting Scott and Jean to take over getting the kids out. The unsteady murmurs he pressed to the top of your head the last thing you heard before there was nothing.

You woke up six hours later.

The sterile hum of medical equipment was the first thing you heard. The sharp scent of antiseptic filled your nostrils, and the faint pressure of a needle in your arm confirmed that you were hooked up to an IV.

Your muscles felt heavy, like someone had filled them with lead. But you were alive.

You could feel your body working overtime, fixing itself. The sickening shift of your insides falling back into place.

It took a few more moments for you to realize you weren’t alone.

A low, familiar rumble caught your attention. You turned your head to see Logan slumped in a chair by the bedside, his face buried in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His hair was mussed, his usually sharp features softened by exhaustion.

He looked different, smaller, as though the weight of what happened was pressing down on him, making him fold in on himself.

You’d seen him bloody, beaten, on the verge of death, but you’d never seen him like this–completely and utterly human.

Your throat was too dry to speak, but a small sound escaped you, and Logan's head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and in a heartbeat, he was at your side, his large hands hovering over you, unsure where to touch, like he was afraid you’d shatter under his fingers.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse, cracked with a mixture of relief and something else, something deeper. His eyes darted over your face, your arms, as if memorizing every detail just to make sure you were real.

“I'm sorry,” you managed, your voice barely more than a rasp.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed, the lines in his forehead deepening. "What the hell are you apologizing for?" His voice was gruff, but there was a tenderness beneath it. A gentleness he only reserved for you.

Your lips cracked into a weak smile. "It was my fault. I messed up."

A growl rumbled low in his chest, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath his skin, not at you but at the situation, at whoever had dared to hurt you.

“Don’t,” he said, voice like gravel. “Don't start, none of this is on you.” His voice softened slightly as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you. “What matters is you’re here.”

The reassurance wrapped around you like a warm blanket, grounding you.

Logan’s thumb traced the line of your jaw, his touch sending a spark of warmth through your veins. “When I saw you on the floor like that…I thought—” He shook his head, jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I thought I lost you.”

Your fingers twitched slightly, managing to catch his wrist, squeezing it with what little strength you had. “I’m right here,” you said softly, voice clearer than before. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s gaze softened again as he looked down at your hand, his rough exterior cracking just a little more. He gently pried your fingers from his wrist and pressed your hand to his chest, right over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me, you know that?”

You tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a breathless huff. “Didn’t mean to.”

He shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You never do.”

You were fine an hour later.

The color of your skin had returned, glossy and like new. The hollow emptiness inside of you long gone. Your abilities passed every test Charles threw your way with flying colors.

Fully recovered and finally excused from the med-bay after Hank and Jean checked you over one last time, you were given your strict marching orders in the form of extra fluids and bed rest, no matter how much you argued that you were fine.

Your health was the last thing on your mind, just a distant phantom ache each time your eyes would find Logan.

He was still shaken up, even after all the reassurance from Charles and Hank. He kept close the rest of the day, hovering, his presence more protective than usual, but he didn’t talk much.

You could see it in the way he moved, slower, less sure, like he was carrying around something too heavy to shake off. It lingered in the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as though still looking for something to fight, to protect you from.

It wasn’t hard to guess what it was.

You hated seeing him like this, burdened by a guilt he didn’t deserve.

It gnawed at you, that heaviness. The way he started to shut down, to close himself off in the face of fear. It was the only way he knew how to cope.

After seeing him like that, bed rest was the last thing on your mind.

You knew Logan. Knew what he needed when his thoughts got tangled up like this, dragging him under. He wasn't the type to sit and talk through it, not easily anyway.

And even though you know he’d never ask for it himself, you knew what he needed—to be reminded, physically, that you were still here, still his.

Later that night, when the mansion had quieted and the others were tucked away in their rooms, you found him exactly where you thought you’d find him—in the room you shared, sitting on the edge of the bed. The yellow light from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows across his face, the tension in his jaw still there.

A frown tugged the corners of your mouth as you moved towards him, catching his attention with the rustle of the sheets as you sat next to him.

“Logan,” you say softly, breaking the stillness. He doesn't respond, only the slightest twitch in his shoulders indicating he even heard you. “Hey,” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time.

He turns his head just enough for you to catch the edge of his profile, the crease between his brows, weariness etched into his features.

But he still doesn't speak.

You shift, moving closer until your fingers brush his arm, the heat of his skin radiating through the fabric of his shirt. “Look at me,” you whisper, and finally, his gaze lifts to meet yours, guarded and pained. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”

Logan shakes his head, bringing a hand up to run it through his already messy hair. “You could’ve died,” he bites out, tone rough and low. “We should've never fuckin' split up. I should’ve been there faster, sooner. I should’ve–”

“Logan.” Your voice cut through his, sharper than you meant it to. You catch his hand in yours, thumb brushing against the pulse point of his wrist. “You saved me, I’m not going anywhere. I need you to hear that.”

He meets your gaze then, eyes dark with something vulnerable, something raw. He nods weakly, like he only half-believes it. You can still see the hesitation swirling through his eyes, the reluctance in the stiffness of his muscles against yours.

He needs something more than words, something to bring him back to you.

With that, you move to straddle his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His body stiffens under yours, his breath hitching slightly as his hands fall to your waist almost instinctively.

“Hold on,” Logan starts, tone hesitant and hands light as they hover over your hips like he’s still scared to touch you. “You heard what Hank said–”

“I’m fine,” you repeat, finality lacing your tone and leaving no room for argument. You reach down, taking his hand in yours and bringing it up to press flat directly over your heart. The very same way he did your first night together. "Can you feel me?”

The question hangs between you, soft but weighted with purpose.

Logan’s breath catches in his throat, fingers splaying wider across your chest. The heat of his palm sinks through to your skin, lighting a fire in you.

The steady beat of your heart under his touch is an undeniable reminder–alive, strong, with him. You can feel him relax, just a touch.

The tension in his muscles breaking down beneath you piece by piece as the rhythm grounds him, helps to pull him out of his spiral.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, barely audible. His eyes drop to where his hand rests, his thumb absently grazing the space just above your sternum. “I feel you.”

“Then trust it,” you murmur. “Trust me.”

A deep, slow breath escapes him, and something in his eyes softens just enough. You lean closer, your fingers trailing up his arms, over his shoulders, until they thread into the hair at the nape of his neck.

You smile softly, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. He sighs deeply, leaning into your touch like a dog starved of attention from its master. His grip on your waist finally tightens, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to feel that edge of need—the need to let go.

“You’ve been taking care of me all day,” you murmur, scratching your nails along his scalp softly. “Now let me take care of you.”

You feel him shudder, a weak groan escaping from his slack lips. His hazy eyes search your face, pupils blown out and seeping into the warm hazel color like an oil spill over a lake.

You tilt your head, lips grazing the stubble on his jawline, moving slowly, deliberately, until you can capture his mouth in a kiss.

It’s soft at first, gentle, but you feel him melt into it, the sharp edge of his restraint crumbling as he kisses you back with a kind of hunger that fuels you.

Logan’s hands slide up your back, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt as you take control, deepening the kiss, coaxing him further into the moment.

His mouth is warm and wet and urgent against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your bottom lip sends a thrill down your spine.

His lips move over yours with a reverence that makes your chest tighten, as if each slick glide of your lips together is an apology, a promise, and a plea all rolled into one.

But you don’t want his apologies. You want his surrender.

His breath stutters in his chest when your fingers twist in his hair, tugging just enough to remind him who’s in charge tonight.

When your hand finds his chest, pushing him down gently, he goes without protest. His eyes never leave yours as he settles against the pillows, following your every movement as you crawl closer.

Climbing over him to perch on top of his thighs, you waste no time in reaching for the hem of his shirt, gently tugging on it in a silent question. Logan’s breath comes in shallow puffs as he nods, fingers twitching on your hips.

You can feel the way his chest rises and falls under the tips of your fingers, the sharp intake of air when your hands ghost across the skin of his lower stomach as you lift his shirt up and over his head.

You toss it over your shoulder carelessly, it lands with a muted thump somewhere behind you, leaving his chest bare. His muscles taut and rippling as he forces himself to stay still, the dim light plays across his skin, highlighting the contours along his torso.

You take a moment to just admire him, trailing your fingers along the familiar planes of his skin. Your touch is feather light, tracing over the spots that should be littered in scars.

The place in his shoulder where he got shot two weeks back, or where the loose shrapnel that embedded itself in his side on the last mission should be, or the skin where his shoulder meets his neck after you dug your teeth into it hard enough to bleed a few nights ago.

The way his body responds to you makes your pulse quicken—the way he finally relaxes completely under your touch, melting into the mattress.

You continue your path down, fingers slipping through the ridges of his abs, scratching your nails through the dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his bottoms teasingly. The muscles of his stomach jump under your touch, the power of his need thrumming beneath your touch.

You drag your hand over the hard length of him, his cock thick and hot as it twitches beneath your fingers. There’s a sharp hiss bleeding through grit teeth as his hips twitch up off the mattress ever so slightly.

You lean forward, hiding a small smirk in the crook of his neck. “Logan,” you whisper, voice dripping with intent, “I want you to beg for it.”

A deep, guttural growl rumbles through his chest. It shakes your body like thunder, finding a home between your thighs. Logan’s head falls back against the pillows, exposing the tan column of his throat to your hungry gaze.

It’s almost immediate, your reaction, your bodies reaction. The pulse of your blood starts to simmer with that telltale heat, slowly bubbling beneath your skin in anticipation.

Your gaze traces along where the vein of his jugular presses against his skin enticingly, barely suppressing a full body shiver at the sight.

You slip your index and middle finger beneath his waistband, brushing against his hard cock with barely any pressure. His hips buck up again, seeking more friction, but you pull back slightly, making him chase it.

“I said beg, Logan,” you murmur, your voice low, teasing, a sharp edge to it now. Your free hand comes up, gripping his jaw tightly, forcing him to look at you.

His eyes, dark and blown wide with lust, meet yours, and you can see the war raging inside him—the urge to dominate, to take control—but then he’s giving in to you, surrendering so beautifully.

“Goddamn,” he rasps quietly, his voice rough, broken. It’s barely a word, more of a growl torn from his throat. He bites it out, quiet and foreign sounding coming from his tongue. “Please, I need—”

“Good boy,” you purr, and finally, drag the soaked fabric of his bottoms down. His cock springs free, slapping against his stomach lewdly.

You moan softly, deftly wrapping your fist around him loosely. Logan groans, you swear you can hear his teeth grind together at the first feeling of your touch where he wants it most.

He’s scalding to the touch, velvety skin throbbing in time with his heartbeat. Rock-hard and flushed an angry red, darkening even more the closer you get to the tip.

You keep the pace of your strokes tortuously slow, letting him feel every movement, teasing him. It’s addictive, watching the way he starts to unravel beneath you at the slightest touch.

His legs kick out against the mattress minutely, hands falling from your hips to grip the sheets as hard as he can in a failing attempt to calm himself.

You lean down, slick lips brushing against his as you speak, your voice soft but commanding. “You’re going to let me do whatever I want to you tonight, aren't you?”

Logan nods, his breath coming in quick pants, his sweaty chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yes,” he chokes out, eyes brimming with need. “Fuck, do whatever you want, baby. I’m yours.”

The usual dominance he carries like a second skin has been peeled away, leaving him vulnerable, laid out beneath you, at your mercy.

Your hand speeds up, grip tightening as you twist your wrist over his leaking tip. Your knuckles shine with pre-come, slick from the gratuitous amount of wetness steadily drooling out.

“You’re being so good for me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice soft and laced with praise. “So good, letting me take care of you like this.”

His response is a loud moan, his hips arching up off the bed, but you’re quick to press them down with your free arm, your thighs tightening around him.

“Not yet,” you warn, strength on display as you stop his movements. “You’ll come when I say.”

A strangled sound escapes him, somewhere between a growl and a whimper, and it sends a thrill through you. He’s right there, teetering on the edge, but he’s holding on—for you.

“Poor thing,” you mumble, idly pressing your thumb into his slit, gathering the precome there to spread it along the flushed crown. “So hard, so needy for me.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Logan whines, his head tipping back against the pillows a second times, eyes squeezing shut tighten enough to wrinkle the skin around them.

You smile, your nails digging into his chest as you shift, positioning yourself above him. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, slick all along your inner thighs as it pools from your aching cunt, drenching the soft cotton of your panties.

So desperate to be stretched around Logan’s cock, to be filled the only way he can. You roll your hips forward, the hard jut of his cock sliding through the sticky mess of your panties.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, loud and hoarse. “Fuck, give it to me, I’m ready–”

You press your finger to his lips, silencing him as you hover over him. “Not yet,” you whisper, a wicked grin on your face as you slide your panties to the side and take him in your hand, letting the tip brush against your soaked entrance, still not giving him what he craves.

Your own patience is starting to run thin, but the sound of his begging is too good.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” you say, your voice sharp and commanding as you rub the tip of him along your cunt, teasing. “Tell me what you need.”

He’s trembling beneath you, a soft whimper leaving his lips as you sink down slightly, barely letting him inside. "Please, darlin'," he groans, voice rough with need. "I need to feel you—need you so fuckin’ bad."

You finally give in, sinking down onto him in one slow, deliberate motion.

His body jerks beneath you, a choked growl spilling from his lips as you take him in, inch by inch. You don’t stop until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls clenching around him as you settle into his lap.

The feeling is overwhelming, the stretch, the heat, the way he fills you completely.

You both groan at the same time, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you roll your hips, savoring the way he pulses inside you, how his entire body reacts to every little movement.

“God, you’re so big,” you whisper, your voice heavy with lust as you look down at where your bodies meet. “You gonna be a good boy and let me ride you?”

“Fuck,” he grits, voice like gravel crunching underfoot.

His hands slide up your back, desperate and needy as they cradle the back of your head softly. “I’d kill them all,” he pants, lips messily searching for your own, desperate for more frantic kisses. “Fuckin’ all of them, all for you.”

You moan loud and unabashed, eyes screwing shut as your nails rake down his chest hard enough to break the skin. The smell of his blood breaks through the air, heady and sharp. He throws his head back, a broken gasp dragged out of him as his hips speed up.

You think back to the room in the warehouse, the floor slick with stray remains and viscera. Think back to him lifting you to his chest, of the blood spattered across his suit and face slipping against your own clammy skin.

Flashes of Logan running to you like a loyal livestock dog, covered in the blood of any wolf that dares attack his precious sheep. Staining the white of your wool red with the righteous wrath of his sacrifice.

You roll your hips faster, bouncing with enough force to have you crying out. The tight suction of your walls pulling him as deep as he can get at this angle.

The coarse hair along his stomach drags against your throbbing clit, making white hot sparks of pleasure zing up your spine to light up each vertebrae.

Logan presses his forehead to your chest, hot breath puffing out over your sweaty neck. You tilt your head to the side almost subconsciously, bearing more of yourself to him.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he admits weakly, blunt nails digging into your skin sharp enough to sting. “Feels so good, so fuckin' good."

He trails off, face pinched with ecstasy as he gazes up at you. You smile, rolling your hips slowly, tiny figure eights that let you feel every inch of him pressing against your walls.

“You're not supposed to hold back," you whisper, your voice thick with need as you lean down, kissing along his jawline. "I want you to let go, Logan."

His eyes snap open, the hazel gone wild and desperate, and it’s like you can see the exact moment he breaks. The tiniest shred of self control finally crumbling under the weight of his instincts. With a low, feral growl, he surges up.

You’re on your back quicker than you can blink, stomach surging with it. You hardly have any time to react, Logan punching all the air out of your lungs as he sets a brutal pace.

The sudden intensity has you gasping, your body jolting as he takes over, fucking you like his life depends on it.

Each thrust is hard and deep, hitting the spot inside of you, over and over again until you’re a trembling mess above him, moaning his name, your nails digging into his chest.

Logan’s grip on you is ironclad, pulling you back onto him harder, faster, his breaths coming out in ragged pants as he loses himself completely in the heat of your body.

"That's it," you pant, feeling the way your body tightens around him, the tension building deep inside you. "Fuck, Logan, just like that—"

He growls again, the sound vibrating through his chest as he slams into you harder, his pace relentless. You can feel the sweat slick between your bodies, hear the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies coming together as his control snaps completely.

“Mine,” he growls between thrusts, voice low and rough as he pounds into you, his eyes locked on yours, full of possessive need. "All fuckin’ mine."

Your body responds to his words, tightening around him as your orgasm builds, every nerve in your body on fire. "Yes," you gasp, your voice barely more than a broken moan as he hits that perfect spot again and again. "Yours—only yours."

Slowly, deliberately, you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down on the pad of your thumb hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

The scent of iron fills the space between you, mixing with the musk of sex and sweat. Logan’s nostrils flare as he takes in the scent, his pupils dilating further, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

You raise your thumb to his mouth, sliding it along his bottom lip to leave behind a thin trail of red. “Suck,” you whisper softly, pressing your thumb into his mouth ever so slightly.

And he does, without hesitation.

Logan’s lips part, and he pulls your thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the taste of your blood. The look in his eyes as he does sends a wave of heat crashing through you.

The pure devotion of the act thickening the air around you to coil the spring of pleasure winding in your lower stomach tighter.

You groan, your own restraint folding like a house of cards as you drag your nose down the column of his throat, stopping right at the base. You press a quick kiss over the rapid fluttering of his pulse before you bite down, hard.

Logan keens around your thumb, teeth digging into your skin roughly as his blood floods your mouth.

You get lost in it, the familiar taste of him seeping onto your tongue as his cock jerks and pulses in your clenching cunt. Getting lost in the way you can feel the rhythm of his heart against your lips, each strong beat sending more blood pumping out to leak along your taste buds.

You press your chest to his, not leaving an inch of space between you. It’s still not enough, it will never be enough.

You need more, so much more.

You want to encompass him completely, to be encompassed by him.

You want to dig your hands into his skin–to peel back each layer of flesh and fat and muscle, snap each of his ribs back so you can bury yourself in the cavity of his chest before you bend them back into place. Burrowing yourself deep enough inside him to watch him heal all around you, to watch his skin stitch itself back together.

It’s a sick feeling, the need to take and take until he has no more left to give. Sick and all consuming, lighting you up like the raging flames of a forest fire that destroys everything in its path.

When you finally pull your hand away from his mouth, he lets out a breathless moan, and you lean down to press your lips against his in a bruising kiss.

The coppery tang of your blood lingers between you, mixing with Logan’s as your teeth clash together violently, as you devour him, pouring every ounce of your control into the kiss.

You press your palm to his chest, powers surging to life over his heart. You don't need to open your eyes to see what you leave behind, the red and blue pulse of his blood lighting up beneath his skin like the neon sign hanging outside his favorite bar.

Logan moans into your mouth, tongue dragging along the point of your canines. "Don't stop," he pleads, “Please, baby, don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You can feel the energy coursing between you, a tangible thing that's threading itself between your fingers. It’s intoxicating, a connection deeper than flesh, a binding of souls fueled by blood and lust. You lean into the heat radiating from him, urging your energy to flow freely, wrapping it around his heart like a warm embrace.

“Logan,” you whisper breathily, breaking the kiss just enough to look into his wild, pleading eyes. “You feel that? You and me, we’re connected.”

“I feel it, honey,” he groans, bucking his hips, forcing you to take him deeper. “You’re everywhere. It’s all I can think about all the goddamn time, drives me fuckin’ crazy.” His words tumble from his lips, raw and unfiltered, sending another thrill of desire through you.

You whine, head tipping back to the ceiling. Drunk of the feeling of him, of his cock, of his blood on your teeth.

You've come to think that being in bed with Logan is like being in church.

There's a holiness to the way he holds you—like you’re the only thing worth believing in.

The familiar weight of his body pressing you into the mattress is the alter. The heat of him like laying in the burning flame of a candle. The strong planes of his muscles each a different scripture that you take in by touch alone, skating your hands over his skin with something close to worship.

Each bead of sweat on his skin feels sacred, a testament to the intensity between you, as though every part of him has been crafted for this moment of devotion.

The hard length of his cock carves a place for itself inside you, each heavy smack of his hips punching another desperate sound out of your slack lips.

His breath, deep and ragged, is a chant that pulls you into reverence. It puffs against the wild beat of your pulse, his lips brushing over the fever hot plane of your skin.

The sound of your name falling from his mouth sounds like a prayer answered.

You can’t help but close your eyes, not in exhaustion, but in a kind of spiritual surrender, like by shutting out the world, you can truly grasp the divinity of it. His blood, mixing with yours on your tongue feels like a sacrament—an unholy communion.

The air between you crackles with heat, your bodies moving together in perfect sync, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. Logan’s head tilts back, his mouth open in a silent scream as he claws at your hips, pulling you down harder, deeper.

“I’m close,” he groans, his voice strained, desperate. “Please—fuck—I need to—”

You reach up quickly, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “Look at me when you fuck me,” you demand, your voice sharp, dripping with authority. “I want you to watch me when you come.”

That’s all it takes.

Logan’s entire body goes taut, a strangled roar tearing from his throat as he buries himself inside you one last time, the force of his release crashing through him. The hot spray of his come floods your insides, drenching your walls in thick spurts of white.

His hands grip you so tightly you’re sure there’ll be bruises blooming later, but you don’t care. You wish they wouldn’t fade. You want them. You want to wear his mark, to feel the evidence of this moment lingering on your skin long after it’s over.

His hips don’t stop even as he comes, a sharp cry ripping its way from his throat as he keeps fucking you, pumping you full of him like he can’t stop.

When you feel him start to lose control like that, feel the frantic twitch of his cock inside you, you finally let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. The force of it rips a scream from your throat as you clench around him, your body spasming with the intensity of it.

Your abused cunt gushes around his cock to seep into the mattress, soaking both the sheets and his lower body all at once as you let out a weak mutter of his name.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged, uneven breathing between you as you both come down from the high. Logan collapses on the bed, arms circling your waist to drag you along with him. His cock stays inside of you, plugging you full of his come.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Logan is warm and grounding under you, soft and lax. You can feel his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath your cheek, and you press a soft kiss to the skin there, a silent reminder.

His hand comes up to thread through your hair, his touch gentle now, his body relaxed in a way that it wasn’t before.

“I love you,” he whispers against the crown of your head, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that makes your heartache.

You smile, soft and secretive in the valley of his pecs, “I love you too.”

It’s a quiet admission, the first time you’ve ever said that to each other with words. The first time you both felt the need to, because it’s nothing you didn’t already know.

Your blood dripping from his teeth lays the same claim over you as his come dripping down your thighs.

It means you're his, and he’s yours.

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