#I think this is the finale of the mini series!

[runnning-outof-time]

Tommy & His Girls | Tommy Shelby x Reader

read more of the Girl Dad Mini Series — HERE.

request: yes by anonymous

pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

summary: When things get rough, Tommy can most certainly count on the girls in his life to lighten things up.

warnings: drinking, smoking, Tommy being a horsegirl

word count: 2089

a/n: back at it with another girl dad!Tommy fic - I just love using this little family I’ve created (if you couldn’t tell) I hope you like this installment of their story!! p.s…I’m sorry if the ending’s corny…I didn’t know how to, well, end it. Enjoy!! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Tommy barely said a word as he entered Arrow House. He handed his things to Frances and made a b-line to his study. Things with the business were rough today...they'd been rough for as far back as Tommy could remember. It seemed like he was the only one in the family pulling the weight and that left him feeling like there was war happening inside his head as he made the drive home.

He pushed his study's door closed behind him as he walked into the room, not even caring if the door had enough velocity to latch or not. He trudged his way to his desk after pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey. Half of it was downed in the first drink; he really wanted the pain in his head to cease.

Setting the glass down, he went through the motions of lighting himself a cigarette. The first, deep drag he took finally made some of the noise quiet down.

It's unclear how long he sat like that: slumped back on his chair with a cigarette burning between his fingers. The next time he came to, however, was when the office door opened slightly.

"Dad?" a small voice came from the opposite side of the room, making Tommy sit up straighter in his seat.

"Yeah," he answered, his voice not quite audible. He cleared his throat before responding louder, "yes?" He focused in on the doorway, seeing his oldest daughter, Thea, standing in it.

The young girl said nothing else as she fully entered the room and made her way right over to his desk. “You didn’t come to my room to say hello,” she stated, a slight frown present on her face.

She stopped in front of his chair as she finished speaking, her arms open to show him that she wanted a hug. The second he opened his, she fell into them.

Tommy let out a sigh as he felt the weight of his eldest daughter against him. “Hello, Thea,” he breathed, a sigh escaping with his words. He couldn’t deny the fact that he felt terrible in that moment. He always made sure to greet Thea when he returned home from work, no matter what type of day he had.

How could he have gotten so frustrated that he forgot one of the most important parts of his day?

Thea was the one to break away from the hug — Tommy could have sat there like that all evening if she allowed it — and step back to look at her father.

He watched her, waiting to see what she’d do next. To his surprise, she made her way over to one of the seats that faced his desk and sat down.

The two stared at each other for a few moments longer. Thea looked as if she was studying her father; like she was taking notes on the entire situation. Tommy was quite confused as to why the ten year old wanted to stick around after greeting him.

Finally, after several moments of silence, he had to ask her just that, “why have you decided to stay, love?”

“I was able to tell that you’re stressed out over work, dad. I don’t want to leave you alone,” she answered him, sounding simultaneously like a ten year old and like a person who was beyond their years.

Tommy took a moment to let her words sink in. Then he couldn’t help but smile as a soft chuckle escaped his lips. The innocence that his daughters held despite the line of work their father was present in was always something that grounded him, no matter what was going on. He knew that he could count on it to bring him back down from that position of power to just being their dad.

“You can keep working,” Thea’s voice broke through his thoughts, making him realize that he had been sitting there, staring at her for some time.

Tommy glanced down at the papers that were scattered across his desk. They were covered with statements that he truly didn’t want to read anymore. Then he looked to one of the photographs that sat proudly on his desk. It was of Thea, Evie, and Juni. They were all hugging onto each other and smiling their biggest smiles. His eyes finally moved to Thea, who was still sitting with a smile on her face.

“I can’t work any longer,” he said to her then as he stood from his chair, “let’s go and see what your sisters are doing,” he suggested, his statement making Thea rise from her seat as well.

Tommy and Thea found Evie and Juni playing in the front room.

“Dad’s home!” Thea exclaimed, making the two younger girls quickly turn around.

“Dad!” they both cheered in unison, smiles lighting up their faces.

Tommy smiled as they rushed over to hug him. He could slowly feel the stress leaving his body. “Hello, girls,” he greeted them, rubbing both of their backs as they held onto him tightly.

“Come play, dad!” Juni exclaimed as she pulled away from him to go back to the toys they had strewn about on the floor.

“Have you ladies finished your homework?” he asked the older two before making his decision.

“Course I have,” Evie answered in a matter-of-fact tone, “it was too easy.”

“Mine’s finished as well,” Thea answered with a smile.

“Good,” Tommy nodded, smiling at his girls.

“Let’s play!” Juni shrieked from where she was standing by the toys. By this time she already had one leg in one of the ‘princess dresses’ that the girls had specially made for them. Tommy smiled as he saw the one she’d chosen - it was one that Thea had been given when she was little.

“What game?” Tommy asked, watching as his other girls followed suit and grabbed the things they needed from their toy chest.

“Princesses, of course,” Evie answered like it was common sense….well, in this Shelby household it kind of was. Tommy chuckled at that thought.

“Thea’s the queen!” Juni shouted excitedly.

“She’s always the queen though!” Evie protested, a frown on her face as her hands dropped to her hips.

“I’m the queen because I’m the oldest,” Thea calmly explained to her disgruntled sister, “it’s just one of my jobs as the oldest sibling. You and Juni are princesses because you’re my younger sisters, and you’ll get to be queen once I’m older.”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile as he listened to her explanation. She was truly wise beyond her years, and she handled everything with such grace.

“Fine,” Evie huffed, deciding to accept the decision even though she sounded a little disappointed.

“What’s my part in this?” Tommy asked the three once their conversation had ended.

“The part you always are, dad,” Evie was the one to answer.

“Got it,” Tommy nodded, surpressing a groan as he lowered himself to the floor. I’m getting too old for this, he thought to himself, but he didn’t dare let that feeling show. He’d never turn down the opportunity to play with his girls.

(Y/N) was finally finished with discussing all of the changes that were to be made with the grounds and house keepers. A lot went into preparing Arrow House as one season rolled into the next. Despite the magnitude of the task and all of the moving parts that were involved, (Y/N) would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy overseeing these changes.

Now, however, she was more than ready to get back to her family.

She was able to hear them before she saw them. The giggles of her girls and one of Tommy’s unmistakable impressions. She laughed to herself just hearing it.

The sight she was met with in the front room brought the widest smile to her face. “What’s going on in here?” she made her presence known with a question.

“Mum!” came as a chorus of yells from the three girls as they forgot what they were doing to run and greet her.

“Hello, my darlings,” she greeted them, eagerly accepting their hugs. “What’re you playing in here with dad?”

“Princesses!” Juniper chirped, holding up her wand excitedly.

“Ahh,” (Y/N) nodded in understanding, “and what part is dad playing?”

“He’s the prized horse,” Evie happily answered.

(Y/N) finally looked to her husband. The sight she was met with had her stifling her laughter. Tommy was still down on all fours, and was wearing a rather strained expression as he looked at her through the longer strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“Of course he is,” she finally responded, grinning at him before focusing her attention on the girls. “How about we give him a break now, hmm? Frances has informed me that dinner is ready,” she then suggested.

No pushback was received from any of the girls, who promptly began making their way to the dining room.

(Y/N) looked over at Tommy again. He was now wearing a look of relief, and he matched his eyes with hers again just briefly before he began the process of standing up. (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle at his predicament, waiting for him to be on his feet again before she started walking to the dining room.

For once, Tommy was actually relieved to have heard that dinner was ready.

After dinner the family decided to go out onto the grounds and enjoy one of the final warm, late fall evenings before winter hit.

Juniper, of course, wanted to go to the stables and check on the horses. Tommy happily took her while the older two stayed back with (Y/N). It wasn’t a surprise, however, when he saw the three cresting the hill to join them in the stables.

Later that night, Tommy was - surprisingly - ready to be in bed at the same time as (Y/N). He helped out with tucking the girls in, wanting to spend as much time with them as he could.

(Y/N) didn’t miss the groan that left his lips as he sat down on his side of the bed. “Not as nimble of a horse as you used to be, huh?” she teasingly commented, biting on her finger to stiffle her giggles when his head snapped to look at her. “Maybe they should put you out to pasture.”

Tommy shot her a look that told her she should watch what she was saying. His look made her giggles escape.

“They’ll still treat you as their prized pony,” she conceded, moving over to where he was so that she could drape her arms over his shoulders. “You know how much they enjoy having you play with them,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.

Tommy smiled at the sentiment, nodding his head slightly as he brought his hand up to set it against the spot her wrists crossed each other.

“I don’t believe I’ve asked you…” (Y/N) started after a few moments had passed. She lifted her head from his neck before continuing, “how was your day?”

A breath of a laugh left his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment, silently recounting his day’s events and deciphering what he wanted to tell her. “I came home stressed, but the girls were able to put me into a better mood,” he decided not to go too far into details, settling with a short summary.

“They’ve stolen my job then, hmm?” her question wasn’t the sort of response that he was excepting, and it was one that had him turning his head in confusion, hoping that she’d offer more explanation. “It used to be my job to put you into a better mood,” she remarked, the smile she was wearing telling him that she wasn’t being completely serious about this.

“All of you girls put me in a better mood,” he responded in a matter-of-fact tone before adding, “don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was the truth. Without those girls, he probably would have still been in his office, droning over the same stack of papers and nursing his umpteenth whiskey.

Without those girls, he probably would have had to deal with another night of keeping his demons at bay as the shovels hit against the walls.

Without his girls, he would most certainly be a completely different man than the one he is today.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver

@stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder

@cillmequick @strayrockette @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

[ryescapades]

❝ [ kiss the bride! ] ╰┈➤ of the same thread (kaiju no. 8)

characters: narumi gen x lil sister!reader + hoshina soshiro cw: fluff, crack, hint of sexy times but nothing detailed a/n: silly brainrot time for my otst series >:) can be read as a standalone! <700 wc | mini series masterlist

imagine your and hoshina's wedding ceremony where narumi severely insists that he becomes the marriage officiant for you two. no priest or government official whatsoever. him, your older brother.

and as the time comes when narumi has to give his speech, he'd drone on and on about 'how big of a responsibility it is to be one's equal, how hard it is to juggle both work and personal life, how important it is not let your spouse struggle on their own' and whatnot.

and then he'd end his speech with something along the lines of "any objections towards this... wonderful union?"

lines upon lines of family and friends gathering, not a single person in the beautifully decorated hall says a word. because all of them support you and hoshina. except one, it seems.

narumi proceeds to wait for a response.

there might've been a crow flying by, perhaps.

with your hair perfectly done, face prettily dolled up and body gorgeously draped in your customized wedding dress, you shift uncomfortably on your heeled feet as you realize what the long pause is for.

gods, you're this close to strangling the loving heck out of your brother.

your husband-to-be sighs with a deprecating smile on his face, clad in his suit and looking as charming as ever (you had almost lunged to grab at his neatly straightened tie when you first stepped into the hall, to run your hair through his soft violet strands, to mess up his gracefulness and make him look as utterly ruined as he was a few nights ago... fuck, now you're irritated and horny).

"you're stallin'," hoshina finally points out your brother's obvious attempt at halting the ceremony. narumi raises an eyebrow, "no, i'm not. i'm just asking for opinions from everyone. it's good etiquette to include others too, you know?" he nonchalantly says.

that's bullshit, of course. if anything, hoshina soshiro is more versed in etiquette than narumi has ever been in his entire life.

"literally no one is sayin' anything right now," the swordsman deadpans, causing your brother to shrug. "maybe they just need more time. this is a serious matter, after all. need to think it over and all. what do you know about time, huh? hastily proposing to my sister in a goddamn hospital room after she just recovered. tch, so unethical."

"as if you bein' the officiant is not a derogatory towards ethics and tradition itself." narumi snaps at that, the faint pinkish tints that dust his cheeks reflecting his embarrassment, "what did you just say?!"

unaware of how loud his inner voice can get, kafka speaks up, "what are they arguing about? i thought they're gonna kiss already?" he asks reno as they stand side by side at the rows of seats below the altar.

the three of you freeze, reno's eyes dart around uneasily and kikoru visibly hides her face in her hands, internally groaning at the whole situation from somewhere in the distance.

hoshina turns to the older man. "kafka, ever given a marriage officiant speech before? i got a new job for ya," he says. narumi jolts beside him, stunned. "oi, what are you trying to do?!" he sneers just as the crowd starts to chatter in hushed whispers.

trailing his eyes up and down, then up and down narumi's figure again patronizingly before hoshina says, "dischargin' you from your current position, of course. what else?"

"excuse me? who gave you the right to do that?!"

"i'm the groom here. i can do whatever i want at my wedding, captain narumi."

the crowd becomes rowdier, and you grit your teeth, cursing in annoyance when the two dick-measuring males don't seem like they're gonna stop anytime soon.

you just wanted to get married in peace and this is what you have to deal with? such blasphemy!

and thus you finally snap, loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear, "for fuck's sake - may the groom fucking kiss the bride!" you insert yourself between your brother and your now husband, pulling hoshina into a ferocious kiss that he scrambles to reciprocate. narumi and all the other attendees gasp scandalously, which you don't pay any attention to, too busy trying to get yourself officially married.

all's well that ends well, you suppose.

taglist: @maruflix @pixelcafe-network @iamjellyfish @ouiouimochi @yueliie @justwinginglife @lumiambrose @minasfwoopyponytail @17020 @bgyuus @moon-cakiie

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[nolongeronlyhereforthewhispangle]

Here we are, folks. After 5 years, Madness Combat 12 is finally out. Now, let’s deconstruct it.

Spoilers for MadCom 12 below (duh)

The opening. Now, there are some things I would like to highlight.

ONE: Nevada is labelled as “The Occurant”. This will be important later.

TWO: The text on the side.

“THE PLACE THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE” “THE INFINITE ENTROPY AT ALL BORDERS TAX THE HIGHER POWERS THAT GOVERN IT”

Entropy means “lack of order or predictability”. The sheer amount of chaos is literally tearing reality apart.

I just like this shot. The depth in it, vast, but empty. Eerily beautiful.

“TRACKER DATA ACTIVE” “HANK.” “DISSONANT;” “0.01%”

On Doc’s computer. Why is 2BDamned doing this? We’ll find out soon enough. It should be noted that the “Dissonance Triggers” almost look like X, Y, and Z coordinates.

“HANK’S CHARTER HAS BEEN REVOKED” “Fix Nevada.” “DO NOT WAIVER”

A charter is defined as “a written grant by a country's legislative or sovereign power, by which a body such as a company, college, or city is founded and its rights and privileges defined.”

Perhaps the “charter” here is Hank’s soul? His being? We don’t know for sure.

Waiver means “refrain from applying or enforcing”.

The Auditor, in this scene, is basically saying “Hank is not active, and I need to make sure it stays that way.”

This graffiti probably means nothing, but I think it might be describing Sanford. So far, he has not died once in the entire series.

Agony. The text to the right mentions the Auditor, “recovery”, and “suppliment”. I have no idea what this could mean, maybe our red-and-black boy is trying to copy what 2BD does, but in the opposite direction?

Auditor, but without the fiery parts.

Mind fuckery. Note that he tries a “CONVERT”, as well as doing multipe return commands. It also points out, again, how Sanford is NOT DEAD, NOR HAS HE DIED BEFORE.

No hope for those trapped, I suppose.

This looks like the tree from MadCom 1. Nice callback.

I’ll let this speak for itself (refer back to TRACKER DATA ACTIVE).

The text says:

“KILL THEM”

And this is where we see Sanford lose his eyes, although he can still apparently see somehow.

A better look at Sanford overall. He still has that iconic lip, but he is missing parts of his body and his eyes to a mysterious black spot that also functions like a hole in some cases.

This is one of the defining moments of the episode (to me, at least). Sanford, seemingly overtaken by rage, randomly gains the strength to tear a half-MAG agent’s head off their body.

This might be just there for the cool factor, or maybe some other power acted on Sanford in that moment. With the info we have, we can’t really tell.

Here we see an anchor, like the one used on Dedmos in the Dedmos mini-series.

“Employic”, according to my research, is not a word in the English language.

Substrata is “an underlying layer or substance, in particular a layer of rock or soil beneath the surface of the ground.”

This purgatory is apparently underground, which would make sense given that we only see passages to it connected to walls or floors.

The Auditor looking shocked as he is trapped in a capsule of rock. With context clues, we could make a conclusion that this is the same type of “purgatory rock” that now makes up Deimos’s lower jaw.

Hank is connected to a machine.

Sanford has somehow been resurrected, even though he still HAS NOT BEEN KILLED.

The Auditor specifically calls out 2BD. He’s onto Doc’s shit.

Another picture of the tablet screen, shortly after Deimos drops it. We can be certain that “AUD” is referring to the Auditor.

Love wins. What else can I really mention if even Krinkels said it himself.

Deimos was “compensated”. Surprised anything still even has value around Nevada anymore. Maybe bullets do, actually.

Sanford has to return as soon as possible for a “deathless resurrection evaluation”. Wonder what that would even look like.

Hank’s icon, showing up for quite a short period of time before the screen fills with “ERROR” messages. He looks distressed.

Whatever could “OCCURANT LINES ARE CONVERGING” mean?

Well, we know that Nevada was labelled as “The Occurant” earlier.

(You might not be able to read this text in this screenshot with Tumblr image compression, I don’t know.)

————————————————————————

Finally, I have some info that isn’t necessarily what happened in the animation, but could help with understanding it. As this is already getting long enough, I’ll leave it with a short blurb.

The definition of the title word.

The description of the episode on the Newgrounds site.

————————————————————————

Even without looking at it in-depth, Madness Combat: Contravention was a masterpiece of animation. It was fluid, the characters were expressive, and the visuals were stunning. Big props to Krinkels, Cheshyre, Cturix (did the sound effects), and Tarkade (made the backgrounds) for creating the most entertaining 8 minutes of my life.

————————————————————————

Thoughts? Theories? Something I missed? Share it in the reblogs! After all, what is this fandom without the community we’ve formed!

[scattered-irises]

Part IV: Heart of Garnet

A prequel to the Dysonia AU. I’ve decided to click and drag characters from Star Girl and the Illusory Paradise and Vocaloid into here whoops

I tried my best to integrate them naturally 

Feel free to hate on this and petition the tumblr council to send me back to deviantart 

Also yeah Illusory Paradise has a character named Dr. Realist and we have a Dr. Faker. Funniest thing ever

Rating: General

Word Count: 2864

Characters: Christopher Arclight, Megurine Luka, Dr. Realist

Relationships: Christopher is infatuated with Luka but she’s already with Gackpo boo hoo

Warnings: Science fiction elements, character death

Summary: Long, long ago, the lone god once gazed out at the cosmos alongside a companion. 

“You're trying something new today,” notes Luka as she passes by Christopher. 

 Heat fills Christopher’s cheeks. He looks down at his coffee, filled with more cream and sugar than usual. Just like hers. 

 Mustering up a smile, Christopher wonders if Luka could see his blush. With how pale he was, he probably looked like a tomato to her. The thought makes his cheeks even hotter. 

 “Er, yes…black wasn’t doing it for me today,” he replies, trying to sound as casual as possible. 

 Luka chuckles, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter. Christopher notices that her favorite headband is askew. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her without it, the trusty hairpiece keeping her long pink hair out of her face. Christopher’s hands twitch, wishing he could stand up and correct it. 

 “I see. Hopefully it’s good!” she says. 

 “Megurine! Arclight! We’re here to save the world, not gossip!” interrupts their supervisor. 

 Luka gives Christopher a lopsided grin. She turns to the figure in the doorway and meets his single, uncovered eye with her sweet smile. 

 “Didn’t you know, Dr. Realist? Having an improved mood in the workplace leads to increased productivity!” notes Luka. 

 Dr. Realist rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. His monocle glints in the white light of the break room. 

 “You can laugh after today’s prototype testing,” he replies testily. “Now, come along. Don’t keep the others waiting.” 

 Exchanging smiles, Christopher picks up his coffee and walks down the laboratory’s halls with Luka. 

 The irony wasn’t lost on him that he had left a Dr. Faker for a Dr. Realist. Both men’s real names had been buried beneath their experiments, their nicknames sounding more real. Unlike Dr. Faker, Dr. Realist was far more whimsical. He enjoyed his coffee with seemingly half a cup of creamer in it and occasionally would break out with laughter at seemingly innocuous things. Once, Christopher even witnessed his new supervisor dancing in the rain. 

 Both men were eccentric in their own ways but shared the same passion towards saving humanity. However, they approached this in drastically different ways. 

 Because of his desire to uplift humanity on Earth, Dr. Faker had become far more popular than Dr. Realist. Determined to remain on Earth, Dr. Faker dedicated his research towards saving what they had left. Although he had often disparaged humans who were less intelligent than him in private, Dr. Faker was careful to maintain his public appearance. His focus on protecting the poor and investing in future generations quickly turned him into a beacon of hope. 

 From the beginning, Dr. Realist had expressed his doubts in saving the rapidly decaying planet. Often ignored, he was followed by only a small group of scientists. Proposing that humanity leave the Earth and build remote space colonies, Dr. Realist was quickly shunned by the scientific community. Despite his decades of research, he was continuously called a dreamer. To spite the community, he published his papers under the name ‘Dr. Realist.’ 

 Due to his history of being ignored, Dr. Realist wasn’t afraid of showing his distaste for humanity. ‘Piglets’ was his preferred term for ‘people.’ 

 Christopher follows Dr. Realist into the prototype room with a bit of satisfaction. 

 He had always followed Dr. Realist’s papers in secret. First as a joke, then as genuine curiosity. He wonders when he began to drift away from Dr. Faker’s papers. Perhaps it was even before he murdered his father. Dr. Faker’s papers were convoluted and nigh-unintelligible at times. Later on, Christopher would come to realize that they were full of promises for the future and optimistic outlooks on current-day situations. Dr. Realist’s papers presented tangible numbers regarding declining plant life and oxygen levels. His predictions about food insecurity and diseases had all eventually been correct. It was his proposals for the future that made him the laughingstock of the scientific community. 

 “Great science proves that exploring truths is justice. Unraveled history proves that justice without a power is unworthy!” cried Dr. Realist in one of the meetings where he was jeered at. 

 He tended to blurt out his catchphrase at random moments, startling his assistants. 

 As he watched crop failure after crop failure, pandemic after pandemic wash over humanity, Christopher began to doubt Dr. Faker’s promises and rewatched Dr. Realist’s maligned speeches with a deeper interest. The entire world couldn’t become Heartland City. 

 Regarding Dr. Faker’s city, his current supervisor despised even the mention of it. 

 “It’s nothing but a vulgar lie that’s bound to unravel someday,” he sneered when Christopher mentioned the divide between him and his family. 

 Now, seeing Dr. Realist’s prototype for the STELLA system, Christopher begins to catch a glimpse of his and Luka’s possible futures. 

 The full body chamber at first appeared no different than the healing pods used in Heartland City’s emergency rooms. It was the numerous wires that made all the difference. 

 “Wish me luck,” whispers Luka, her voice audible only to Christopher. 

 Warmth fills Christopher’s chest. The ends of her pink hair tickles his hand, leaving behind the smell of expensive shampoo. Too soon the smell fades, leaving behind only the cold, sterile smell of the laboratory. 

 Removing her lab coat, Luka hands it off to an assistant and steps into the pod made specifically for her. As she lays down, the wires automatically connect to various parts of her body, aided by her black bodysuit. Christopher watches as the pod closes and the aerated gel rises around Luka’s body. Through the glass, she gives everyone a smile before her eyes flutter shut. 

 Silence. The room remains dark, yet the atmosphere is thick with anticipation. Christopher’s heartbeat skips a beat as Luka’s eyes move beneath her eyelids. A part of him wishes he could hold her hand, her nails always painted a cheerful light blue. 

 She was the first person that had welcomed him to Dr. Realist’s lab. Apparently, she had been drawn to Christopher’s abnormally long hair that was styled similarly to hers. They’ve exchanged beauty tips every once in a while, but their conservations always drift back to mundane talk. 

 Or was it soul searching?

 Luka felt as if she understood the loneliness that Christopher had experienced. The sensation of being surrounded by so many, yet unable to make any meaningful connections anywhere…He could feel it in her rare sighs and gentle voice. Once, when they were leaving on a late night, they had both looked up at the sky and made the same comment. 

 “It’s so hard to see the stars with this damn moon.”

 They had looked at each other in shock and then shared a good laugh. 

 The words have nestled in Christopher’s heart like a treasured pearl. He runs through that moment repeatedly on lonely nights. 

 But he knows it’s impossible—the possibility of him and Luka being romantically involved. Before he had arrived at the lab, Luka was already engaged to a kabuki actor who went by the stage name Gackpo. Even in the experimental pod she kept her engagement ring on. Christopher can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy every time he sees the silver ring. 

 “He’s so thoughtful! It has my birthstone and flower!” she had said, showing Christopher the ring once he had asked about it. 

 The ring featured a snowdrop with a garnet in the middle. He had looked up which month the garnet belonged to afterwards. January. He hasn’t asked when in January because he wasn’t sure if they were close enough yet. 

 The sound of electrical humming jolts Christopher from his memories. The room’s lights turn on, followed by the computers around them. Excited murmurs fill the room as readings of Luka’s vitals fill the screen. The largest screen then flickers to life. Christopher’s heart soars as WELCOME TO STELLA appears across the screen. 

 Success, whispers a voice in his head as Luka activates the small sprinkler system.  Success. Christopher raises his face towards the miniature rain shower. The beginning of the end. 

 🟔

 It was official. They would be part of the first wave of colonies. Christopher lingers by the side of the breakroom’s door, watching Luka’s back. She was alone in the breakroom, hunched over her coffee. From the smell, he could tell that it was black. She was toying with her engagement ring, the garnet dulled after years of experiments and everyday wear. 

 “Have you told him?” asks Christopher as he approaches Luka. 

 She looks up at Christopher, a tight smile on her lips. 

 “Of course. He was prepared for this. And you?”

 A brief call. Nothing else. He couldn’t bear to return home and witness the lesions on his loved ones’ skins. When he thinks of the barren earth, wilted flowers and sickness that plagued Heartland, it only makes him wish that they were here with him. If only they had jumped ship before the water had reached their necks. Instead, they were stubborn on reviving something that had died ages ago. 

 “Yes. We didn’t have much to say. They knew what I would eventually be doing,” replies Christopher.

 Luka’s gaze returns to her ring. She twists it back and forth, letting out a wistful sigh. 

 “I wanted it to work. Truly. To settle down with him and maybe start a family. But…a part of me always knew that was just a fantasy.”

 Christopher looks at Luka. He takes in her pale skin, sunken eyes and blotchy face. She was so beautiful. He couldn’t explain it, but the loneliness in her expression felt like looking into the night sky at times. Vast. Deep. Although he looked at the stars, he knew that millions of light years away, most of them had already died. Despite that, he loved looking at their long-gone visages. 

 “I was one of Dr. Realist’s first assistants. I have to see this through the end,” she continues, mustering a weak smile. “Up there, they’ll call me Stella. What about you?” 

 “V,” murmurs Christopher, the old nickname strange on his tongue.

 He is no longer the lost and desperate 20-year old that carried that name. At 45, he supposes he’s old enough to know better. 

 “V…,” echoes Luka.

 Christopher sits down beside Luka. His blood roars through his ears. Her shoulders rise and fall with each breath she takes. Throughout the seven years he’s known her, it feels as if she hasn’t aged a bit. 

“I hope our colonies are close,” she murmurs, placing a hand on Christopher’s. “It’d be nice to have someone to watch the stars with for eternity.”

 Christopher fights the burning in his cheeks. He’s come to terms with the fact that they’d never be more than coworkers, whether on Earth or in space. Still, the hand was enough for him to last a lifetime. Maybe even two. 

 “I hope so too,” he says. 

 🟔

 He watches as Luka’s pod is closed for the final time, the glass melting shut with the steel cradle of the case. Luka’s eyes have misted over as her mind slowly connected to her distant colony. In a few hours, her body will be transported towards her eternal resting place. Soon, the memory of their conversations and her smile will be all he’ll have of her.

 He tells himself not to despair. At least their colonies will be close. 

 🟔

 Their conversations have continued. The only change is that they have eternity to talk. Buried deep within their daily calculations, vitals reports and watching over their humans, their conversations are exchanged via 0s and 1s. 

 Even though they are light years away, they still have to mind their distance. Their new hearts were highly reactive to one another, pulsing with endless amounts of energy. And so they take turns, edging their cores away from one another to sneak in a whisper or two. Anything to remind them that they were once flesh and blood instead of circuitry floating in the void of space. 

 They talk about the cyclical nature of things. Of reincarnation and recycling. Seeing the faces of their loved ones reflected in their inhabitants. The resemblance is only skin-deep, of course. Their original memories are no longer there. Still, those reincarnations are comforting to look upon. So is each other’s presence, even though they are slowly being pulled apart by the cosmic fabric of the universe. 

 And so time languidly passes on like this, their conversations unintelligible to everyone but themselves. Memories blur. Images fade. They help restore each other’s fading memories to the best of their abilities.  

 An old memory floats up into Christopher’s mind. He passes it to Luka, who adds to it. 

 “System rot?” Christopher had asked during the Stella colony’s construction.

 Luka looked up at the clear blue sky, as if she could peer lightyears ahead at her new body. 

 “It’s when a ‘god’ completely forgets their humanity. That’s when the colony system is deemed unfit,” she said quietly. 

 “Then what?”

 “A dystopic existence for the humans aboard. Or, the ‘god’ simply collapses,” replied Luka. 

 “It’s all theory though, isn’t it?” asked Christopher.

 Luka shrugged. 

 “It’s my theory. We saw it once out of the ten thousand simulations with the human brains we had on hand.”

 “For something like this, shouldn’t you have conducted more tests?” 

 Luka gave Christopher a small smile. 

 “It’s very hard for Dr. Realist to get his hands on a brain these days.” 

 There was a tank in the back of the lab that stood as a reminder of Dr. Realist’s very first tests. A human brain floated in the darkened liquid, suspended by various wires. He had always wondered who it had belonged to before landing in Dr. Realist’s hands. 

 Overtime, the ‘gods’ learned of each other’s families and attempted to piece together what they looked like once the other’s memory began to fade. 

 Miku? queried Luka.

  Teal hair. Bright eyes. Bubbly. Loves her negi. Little sister, replied Christopher.

 Michael? he asked. 

 Pink, brown hair. Green, ovoid eyes. Gentle. Surrounded by history. Youngest brother, said Luka after a brief delay. 

 On and on their conversations went, seemingly stretching into the abyss of eternity. They would try to communicate with other colonies but would never have as equally interesting exchanges. As the colonies began to pull further and further away from each other, communications grew increasingly sparse until there was nothing but static. Christopher felt them blink out of existence with a small twinge in his heart. However, as long as he had Luka, he was content.

 Until she begins to spout nonsense. In the middle of sentence, a series of garbled 0s and 1s would suddenly interrupt her. She stops moving her core away from Christopher, the pulsating waves of energy almost painful for him to intercept. 

 At first, he thought that the distance between them was becoming too great and that communication was slowly being distorted by other waves. Then the waves from her come in rapid pulses, each one increasingly abnormal. 

 CAN’T REMEMBER, she once screamed to him. 

 The rest of her message was garbled. 

 NAME. VOID. VOID? A sea of zeroes. Nothing but zeroes, like a mouth open in a scream only V could hear. 

 System rot, whispered a voice deep within Christopher. 

 His panels trembled, the closest sensation he had to fear. 

 He keeps her last coherent words to him under lock and key. Firewall after firewall. Layer after layer. Something he has tried to delete from his memory but can’t ever truly remove it from his mind. 

 I CAN’T GIVE ALL OF THEM HAPPINESS. 

 And buried beneath those words are her final screams, the screams of a dying colony and her breaking heart. 

 He knows she’s out there somewhere, a darkened husk of broken metal surrounded by the remains of a once-great star. One day she will be all alone, floating in a void of nothingness, the star still stubbornly clutched in her chest. Then, someday the star will explode, scattering her remains throughout the void. Yet her cries for help from eons ago will continue to travel across the universe, deteriorating just like she was. Far out enough, they will distort into unintelligible static. The static will then continue its lonely journey across the universe, begging for anyone to come and decipher its increasingly garbled sounds. 

 For now, someone on a distant colony can still see Stella’s star, brilliantly shining on despite the husk of the colony that was wrapped around it. 

 Would they still think that the star was beautiful once they discovered that it was held in a corpse’s chest? 

 Would they look at her like how Dysonia’s god had once lovingly stared up at the stars?

 Would they mourn?

 Would they cry?

 Sing little songs about her?

 Search for her real name, which was L—

 V tries not to dwell on Stella too much. 

 After all, it happened millennia ago. 

 Still, on lonely nights, he will run through his memories with her on Earth. The images grow foggier by the century. Despite the blurry faces and distant words exchanged, the memories never fail to spark a bit of warmth in his systems. 

Anything, anything to remind him that he was once human, just like the beings that live and die on his panels. Anything to ward off his loneliness.

[yumemiruuuu]

Chu Wanning: You are driving a car and all of a sudden, there is an elderly woman and a young child crossing the road. What do you hit?

Mo Ran: (in deep thought)

Mo Ran: The elderly, because she already had her fill of life but the young child has barely experienced life yet so it would be a shame if he got killed.

Chu Wanning: …

Mo Ran: Or you can hit them both if you want to be a little silly

Chu Wanning: The BRAKES, Mo Weiyu. YOU HIT THE BRAKES.

[medicbrainrot]

it all feels the same with your eyes closed (deep end, part 1)

A/N: This mini series needs a content warning for suicidal ideation, domestic violence, and excessive alcohol consumption. (I told y’all I was gonna throw some angst at ya.)

Things had been tense around base since the return of Task Force 141 after an unsuccessful mission. Mistakes had been made, resulting in the loss of personnel and vital intel. 

The main core personnel of the Task Force were currently in a meeting, discussing information for an upcoming mission. The meeting was already tense, but it escalated as Simon and Juliana were arguing back and forth about protocols.

“I AM YOUR SUPERIOR OFFICER. I’M THE ONE IN CHARGE HERE.” Simon yells at Juliana before backhanding her across the face so hard that she stumbles back.

The room goes silent, shock spreading among everyone as they stare at the couple.

Simon throws a vicious glare at Juliana before spitting out the final piece of the argument. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”

She doesn’t bother to grab her things before sprinting out of the room.

Simon stares at the door she left through for a brief second, before turning to the rest of the room. Tensions were high, but he was trying to remain calm after his outburst. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. I’ll handle this. We’ll continue later.” He says gruffly.

He sighed internally. What was she so upset about anyway? Simon doesn’t like fighting with her, but lately it’s been happening more and more.

“Witness that? Simon, you just hit your girlfriend, not to mention you just assaulted a fellow soldier, IN FRONT OF WITNESSES.” Captain Price roars.

Simon flinches at Price’s reaction, and tries to defend his actions without being rude. “I wouldn’t have hit her without reason. I had to do what I did. It’s not like I’m proud of it. I’ll handle it, and apologize to her personally.”

“Good luck getting her to hold still long enough to do that.” Soap mutters under his breath.

“Soap!” Simon whirls on Johnny, glaring at him intensely. “Are you insinuating what I think you are right now?”

“It depends, sir,” Soap addressed him mockingly. “What is it you think I’m insinuating?”

Simon’s voice became harsh, as he spoke quickly. “I want a straight answer, Soap. Are you implying that she’s going to be so furious, that she’s going to fight me?”

“I’m implying, sir,” Soap mocks again, “That you’ll be hard pressed to even find her and get her to listen long enough for you to say the words ‘I’m sorry’, without her bolting. There’s a reason we call her Bambi.”

Simon sighed, he knew Johnny was right. She would disappear the minute she saw him. He had to do something.

His mind raced, trying to think of a plan. He didn’t know where she’d run off to, he just knew she was angry. Very angry.

“I’ll find her. I’ll make sure she hears me out.” Simon huffs.

“You’d better get this sorted out, and fast Simon. We’re getting deployed again in a few weeks, and we need this team 100% together.” Captain Price says sternly.

Simon nods, still pissed that this even became a fight in the first place. “She’ll come around. I’ll make sure of it.”

He then turns to Johnny and Kyle. “You two keep your mouths shut about this. Especially you, Soap. We don’t need anymore drama. Are we clear?”

Johnny looks him squarely in the eye. “If she wants to fill out a SHARP violation report against you, I’ll happily sign as a witness.”

“Soap…” Simon sighs. He doesn’t want any more trouble. He just needs Juliana to understand her place in the chain of command. He needs her to understand why he did what he did. He can’t afford to lose his job because of one stupid mistake. He needs to not let his temper get the better of him. He needs a break.

He looked at Johnny, then Kyle, then Price, then back at Johnny. “Soap, don’t force me into doing something drastic over this. Understood?”

“What, are you gonna hit me too? Beat me into submission? No wonder Bambi is so banged up all the time.” Johnny spits venomously. 

Simon growls angrily. He was already on edge, and now this? He had a serious urge to hit something, but he held it in.

“You think it’s funny, making jokes about this?” He clenches his fists, setting them down harshly on the table. He lets out a deep breath, trying to get himself under control. “I’m warning you, Soap. For the last time, keep your mouth shut, or I’ll make you. Got it?”

“It’s not a joke, not this time.” Johnny growls. “This had to have escalated from somewhere. You make a regular habit of hitting your girlfriend to get what you want?”

Simon’s mind goes blank. A regular habit of hitting her? A sense of shock went through his system. He didn’t know Johnny could think of him that way.

“Don’t assume you know anything, Soap.” He says coldly. “I don’t go around hitting her all the time. I’ve only done it once. Just this one time. One. Time.”

“That’s what they all say.” Johnny sneers at him.

Simon took a deep breath trying to keep everything under control. He couldn’t believe Johnny was saying all of this.

“Soap, I swear to God, I only hit her this once. It was my fault, but I’ve never done it, and I won’t do it again. You’re only making this worse. We are supposed to be a team. Remember?”

“Yeah. Teammates are supposed to protect each other. They don’t backhand each other during arguments.” Soap retorts.

Simon knew he was in the wrong for hitting Juliana. He felt bad for hitting her, but he felt like he couldn’t admit that in front of Johnny, he was already digging himself in way too deep. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done it, you’re right. I let my anger get the best of me. It won’t happen again.”

He stared at the floor while he tried to figure out what to say next.

“Please, let’s just try to work through this. Don’t go around telling anyone else about this.”

“Fine.” Soap scoffs. “I won’t say anything. But if I catch even a hint that something is off, I’ll file the damn SHARP report myself.” Johnny stands up to leave, pausing in the doorway. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was halfway through writing up a unit transfer request already.”

Simon watched as Johnny left the room. What had he done? How could he let his anger take control of him like that? Would Juliana really file a transfer request because of all this? Would he lose everything over this? And why was Johnny so defensive of her? 

“Damnit.” He muttered. “I really need to talk to her. Now.”

Why had Johnny been so protective of Juliana? What is going on here?

Johnny must have known something Simon didn’t, something he wasn’t telling Simon. But that wasn’t important. He needs to go find Juliana and fix all of this. 

Unless… unless Johnny really does know something. Maybe it will help Simon figure out where it all went wrong.

“Fucking hell.” Simon swore. Johnny might be the only one who might know something about what’s going on, or where Juliana went. As much as he hated the idea, asking Johnny was worth a shot.

He made his way to Johnny’s room, and knocked on the door. He just wanted to talk to the man and hear what he had to say himself. 

Johnny opened the door. “Come to take a shot at another teammate?”

Simon glared at him. “You know what, Soap?” He growled. “Quit your bullshit. I know that you know where Bambi is, and I know you know why she’s mad. So tell me. Now.”

Johnny leveled him with a cool stare. “I don’t know where she is.” He said plainly.

“I don’t believe you. Why were you defending her so much?” Simon asks. He knew there was something happening that he didn’t know about. He could feel it, he just doesn’t know what it’s about. “I need the real reason, Soap.”

“Why wouldn’t I defend her!? I’ve had family go through what she has, and I’m not about to let her go through it alone again.”

‘Had family members go through….’? What the hell? Simon’s eyes widened a bit. When it clicked, Simon was surprised to hear that Johnny had a family history of domestic abuse. He hadn’t realized that that was the reason Johnny defended Juliana so much. 

Johnny thought Simon was abusing her…

“So, you know something about her past, then?” He asks.

Johnny’s eyes widened. “You… you mean she hasn’t told… you?”

Simon frowned. Why hadn’t she told him anything about that part of her past? He was confused.

“No. She didn’t. And now I need to know, Soap. What happened?”

He ran his hands over his balaclava. Maybe this was the reason she got so upset? If this was the case, then he needed to tread very carefully, at least until he figured out more of what was going on. 

“I don’t know the whole story, just bits and pieces, but enough to know that it was bad. Like, really bad. Almost career ending bad.” Johnny explained.

Simon was slightly disturbed by that description. He couldn’t imagine what might have happened for her to be reacting like this. He couldn’t imagine what she had gone through. What did Johnny mean by ‘almost career ending’?

“Can you at least give me some sort of basic idea? Anything, Soap, please.” Simon never pleads, ever, but right now he is. He looked at Johnny, worry and concern evident in his eyes.

“Juliana had gotten into a relationship of sorts with someone on her team, and when the guy got promoted, he outranked her, he became her superior officer.” Johnny begins. “He started getting violent with her behind closed doors, especially whenever she’d disagree with him about missions or protocols.” He pauses. “I know at one point, he hurt Jules so badly she was in the ICU for six days, and she almost got medically discharged from service. That’s when she finally put in for a transfer.”

Simon’s face paled under his mask. His hands shook slightly, but he wasn’t sure if it was from anger at himself or at the guy who hurt Juliana. This was too much for one person to carry alone.

“And… she went through all of that…. Alone? She never said anything to me, ever!” Simon sighed. “I need to find her and make sure she’s okay. I’ve fucked up, and I’m the only one who can fix this.”

Johnny shakes his head. “The only reason she told me was because she overheard me talking on the phone with my sister about a similar issue, and she offered her help. Otherwise, I don’t think she ever would have said anything.”

Simon ran his hands down his face. “So… if she hasn’t told me anything about it… I guess she doesn’t want me to know… Did she ever go into any detail about what happened, or about who this person might be?”

“She never specified, she just said someone from a previous unit. Refused to say when or where.” Johnny explains.

Simon nods. “Alright. Well… thank you for at least telling me this, Soap. I would’ve never known.”

He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t ever noticed something like this. He had always known Juliana as one of the most gentle, kind-hearted people he had met. He would never have dreamt that she had gone through something like this before.

But it also made something clear. Simon could never allow anything like this to happen to her, ever again. He would have to protect Jules - no matter what it took.

Sometimes, the people with the brightest smiles are the ones who have gone through the most oppressive darkness.

“I need to find her. I have to make sure that her past won’t define who she is in the future.” Simon sighs deeply.

“It might already be too late for that, Simon.” Johnny says cautiously. 

“Do not tell anyone else about this, Johnny. You got that? We can’t have rumors spreading around right now. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Johnny rolls his eyes.

“Good. I appreciate it.” Simon turns to leave, and makes his way across the base, going through different areas in search of Juliana. “God damnit” He swears. “Where in the hell is she?”

A/N: Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated!

Masterlist

[kkst0904]

[yoitscro]

Not today but at some point I need to ramble about my Fionna and Cake thoughts in full ;v;

I liked things! I enjoyed my time and I'm still vibing in my Petrigrof corner. But maaaaaaaaaaaaaaan pacing and character choices did not do the finale any favors.

[astramachina]

on the bright side, this absolute tech fuckery forced me to finish both the video scripts on my desktop (which i promptly backed up to two different places) so now all there is to do is actually start working on the videos themselves but that's a problem for when my new pc is finally up and running.

[jewishcissiekj]

every month I read the new Darth Vader issue expecting ....something. and every month I wonder why doesn't Greg Pak ever stop and go home never to return to write Vader or the handmaidens ever again

[nagihonos]

finally got around to watching dragon ball super hero and

[dogboycolumbo]

watched jake and amir decision

[error-silence]

Well this is going to be fun

[saintobio]

blank canvas. (2)

after offering a painful ultimatum to finally be enough for him, things ultimately get worse as he decides between keeping you or losing you as the only resolution.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract

tags/warnings. strong language, defloration (kinda), explicit smut, undertones of manipulation and gaslighting, toxic relationship, undertones of cheating

notes. 11.2k wc! thanks for the love on bc1, i didn't expect it to gain traction at all but tyty. last part will come soon, but that will be the final chapter to this mini-series.

part 1 | part 3

The ride back home was uncomfortable. 

It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.

When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it? 

The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.

It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family. 

To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this. 

Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight. 

“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.” 

His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.” 

You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first? 

“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.” 

Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really? 

“I want to do it.” 

“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”

“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”

“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”

Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.” 

— —

Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure. 

It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was. 

Did Sukuna feel the same? 

He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.

Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.” 

Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was? 

“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.” 

When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face. 

You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk. 

Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed. 

Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…

“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was. 

“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.” 

Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”

He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.” 

You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.” 

Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.” 

Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?” 

“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.” 

“That’s—”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”

He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom. 

And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds. 

“Mm…”

Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it. 

Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked. 

With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here. 

“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?” 

Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.” 

When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V. 

“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.” 

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking. 

Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it? 

And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.” 

“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such. 

He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.” 

Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?” 

“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.” 

Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body. 

His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”

Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?” 

You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment. 

Holy fuck was all you could say. 

He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty. 

“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.” 

You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?

“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier. 

Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing. 

“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.” 

In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair. 

“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself. 

This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out. 

“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?” 

All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw? 

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.” 

His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.” 

“Okay…” 

You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you. 

He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be. 

You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding. 

But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore? 

You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?

The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance. 

“Haaa—!” 

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock. 

“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!” 

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!” 

Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you. 

Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.” 

“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.” 

“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”

His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have. 

You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”

“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.” 

His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.” 

The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”

“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?” 

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.” 

Why did he sound like he was giving up? 

You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”

He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.” 

Then… then…

“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”

Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.” 

He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.” 

— —

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay. 

No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly. 

Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s. 

“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”

You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.” 

Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.” 

“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on. 

“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued. 

And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”

Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”

“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”

“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”  

You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”

Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this? 

Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.” 

“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.” 

You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.

Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon. 

“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school. 

“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.” 

“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”

���He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”

“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”

Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”

“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.” 

“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.” 

The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.” 

“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.” 

“Be serious,” you warned. 

To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.” 

You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”

“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.” 

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?” 

Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.” 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?” 

Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior. 

“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”

Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.” 

“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment. 

The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.” 

“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark. 

“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?” 

It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.

It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?” 

Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires. 

She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.” 

No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?

“Can you please just tell me?” 

Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.” 

Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.

“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”

— —

Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this. 

First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too. 

If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue. 

But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together. 

Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.

But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating. 

It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close. 

“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face. 

His ex-girlfriend of three years. 

Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?” 

The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies. 

“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.” 

“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?” 

She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.” 

Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?” 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”

While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here? 

“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.” 

Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?” 

Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.” 

A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve. 

“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.” 

Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!” 

“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.” 

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head. 

And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed? 

Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it. 

He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?” 

Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.” 

By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?” 

“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.” 

“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?” 

She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?” 

Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”

“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.” 

Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life. 

And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right. 

But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart. 

**

“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?” 

Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.” 

“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp. 

“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.” 

You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?” 

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.” 

“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.” 

**

“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?” 

What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad. 

“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”

He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit. 

“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.” 

**

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.” 

Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared. 

But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.” 

“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.” 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“...Alright.” 

“Okay.” 

“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.” 

He knew what she was about to do next. 

And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses. 

But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.” 

“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face. 

“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”

Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”

Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”

Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”

Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.” 

— —

5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night. 

So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you. 

And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago. 

In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do. 

Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart. 

“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?” 

Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?” 

Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.” 

You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?” 

“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.” 

“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?” 

Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out. 

“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”

Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.” 

“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!” 

He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”

“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!” 

“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.” 

You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.” 

“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”  

…

…

…

“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”

— —

It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you. 

You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you. 

In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.

But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way. 

What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others. 

And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up. 

“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop. 

Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”

“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”

He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.” 

“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully. 

His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.” 

Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well. 

“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.” 

Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.” 

You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”

“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.” 

Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future. 

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

“About your offer last time,” you recalled, recalling his earlier jest about teaching you some things in bed, “I think I'd like to take you up on that.”

[thinkinonsense]

POSITIONS𑁍

old man!logan howlett x housewife!reader

cw: oral (f receiving), fingering, bit of fluff, soft logan *mdni

wc: 900+

a/n: next mini-series will be inspired by the album positions by ariana grande. if you would like to be added to the tag list comment below. not sure how many parts yet but I hope you enjoy!

part two

home has always been a sore spot for logan. the mutant never had much of a place he could truly call home. always on the run, never somewhere long enough to enjoy it. now in his old age, he's been granted the life he always longed for.

"lo, come try this!" his little wife, calls to him in the kitchen.

the sight of you and your cute apron mixing ingredients could bring logan to his knees; and has on many occasions. how did a dangerous fucked up man like him end up with the sweetest girl in town? every day, you're in the kitchen learning new recipes while looking all dolled up for him.

the part that always gets logan hard is knowing you want to do this for him. you were smarter than anyone he'd ever met yet, you loved the simple domesticity of your life with logan. you knew when the two of you met that he craved an older lifestyle that you didn't mind adjusting to. logan thought that you were truly heaven-sent.

"think i finally got the recipe right." you held out a spoon for him. logan groaned at the taste, his hands resting on your hips, pressing you into the countertop slightly. "whatcha think?"

"think it might be the best frosting you've ever made," he mutters against your skin, leaving kisses along your neck and jaw.

"that good?" you smile, licking the rest of the spoon clean.

logan watched with dark pupils, grinding himself against your ass with every little moan that slipped past your lips.

"might just be the second best thing you've let me taste," he admits, forehead falling into your neck to catch his breath.

"second?" you tease, turning around to face him. "what's the first, baby?"

you claimed you weren't a mutant but logan thought that was the only explanation for how quickly you managed to bring him to his knees. his big rough palms caress your thighs, squeezing whatever he can—whatever he wants— until he slips them under your pretty light green dress.

logan stares at eye level with your white lacy panties and the large wet stain forming in them. he's got you sprawled out on the countertop with both legs dangling off his broad shoulders, heels digging slightly into his shoulder blades. your dress and apron were bunched up at your stomach.

"isn't she pretty..." logan says to himself, hooking them to the side to get a better look at your exposed pussy. he blows cold air directly on you. a loud whine falls from your lips as you claw at the edges of the counter and attempt to wiggle your hips in the air.

"lo, please..." you beg, looking down at him as he slides the thin material down your legs and spreads you as far as he can.

"you've been such a good girl, sweetheart." logan praises, letting his thumb circle your button slowly in a way that leaves you needing more. "so obedient and versatile, aren't ya'? one minute you're cooking me dinner and the next you're begging to ride me."

you nod, lazily; trying to enjoy every movement he makes.

"think you deserve a reward." he hums before lapping up your wetness, swirling his tongue in downright sinful ways.

not only did you taste as sweet but the little noises that escaped you were even sweeter. a hand of yours laced itself in logan's grey hair, tugging him impossibly closer until his nose bumped your clit, making you sing like a bird. didn't help that logan let his most primal side show, moaning into you and making a complete mess of you.

"so needy, isn't that right, honey? just leakin' for attention." he says, talking to your pussy rather than to you directly while teasing a finger at your entrance. "makin' a mess all over me."

logan pulls back to spit on your pussy; sending your head flying back against the countertop.

"fuck..." you moan, left hand groping your own tit. "feels sooo good, lo.."

logan catches the light off of your wedding band while you squeeze yourself. this kickstarted something deep inside of him. even in the filthiest of moments between the two of you, you managed to fill his heart with love. his mouth returns, drinking you up like water. you flooded all of logan's senses; he could hear your heart thumping in your chest, smell how badly you needed him, and taste how he made you feel.

"taste like fuckin' candy," he growls, adding another finger to hit that spongy spot deep inside of you over and over again.

"please..." you purr, looking down into his almost black eyes. "so close.."

logan could feel you clenching around his fingers; practically suffocating them. his moans vibrating your core didn't help slow down your climax either. all of it crashing into you at once.

"there's my pretty girl," he smirks, still fingering you through your orgasm. at this point, you didn't care what part of you he was talking to anymore; all you wanted to do was kiss him.

"need you, logan." you whine, tugging at the collar of his shirt until he's face to face with you.

logan assumes that you want him to fuck you; undoing his belt as quickly as possible until you stop him.

"gimme kiss."

there you were with your dirty apron, wild hair, and pouty lips begging for a kiss. who was logan to deny you such a request? his soaked beard scratched against you with passion as his tongue entered your mouth. his big hands cradle your face delicately.

logan wasn't a good man by the textbook definition but he'll be damned if he didn't treat you as good as you deserved.

[tojisun]

!! suggestive (and mini smut) - minors dni; bimbo (fem)!reader has simon wrapped around her pinky (we luv to see it!); the squad’s here too; hinted age difference (30s v. 20s)

when they ask him where you two met, simon always tries his best to tamp down the smile threatening to grace his lips before clearing his throat and answering, "in the ER."

the questions that follow are always repetitive: 'what, why?', 'what happened?', 'how did things even go from there?' the last one is often paraphrased into some other versions, but the sentiment remains – people always get surprised, reduced into awkward stumbling because how could you even segue into a romantic relationship from having met in the ER?

well, simon thinks, it's actually quite fucking simple.

it was three in the morning and simon was in the lobby, waiting to be called in, when he saw you walk in: you clutched your broken heeled shoes in your hands, your beautiful legs were bearing injuries and cuts, and your hair was a wild mess. then, you ambled towards a baffled triage nurse.

"hi!" simon recalls your melodic voice echo, sounding too hyper even when you looked all banged up. "can i use y'r restroom? we got kicked outta the club."

simon was so focused on you that he didn't even notice the pack of girls following behind you, all of them looking just as haggard and bruised up. one of your friends was actually worryingly injured, so it’s no shock when the nurse rushed towards her, slightly panicked and confused before steering your friend away, leaving you there in the lobby.

then, you turned around, frowning at having been ignored, and it gave simon the best vantage point of finally seeing your face. he swears his heart stuttered in his chest, his lungs constricting, because holy shit, you are beautiful.

"then the rest is history," simon ends, pulling you close to him. any closer and you would have ended on his lap – something he preferred, anyway – but johnny continues to stare at the two of you with a slack jaw, his eyes almost bulging out in confusion so simon tries to keep it civil.

you giggle, and simon watches as the rest of the squad snap their eyes on you, as though expecting you to grace them with a better explanation. but simon knows that you probably don't even know what's going on, having been busy tapping away on your phone, your acrylics making distinct clacks as they hit the screen.

"i love the history channel," you singsong, batting your eyelashes as you give them a dimpled smile. "simmy-" simon almost coos at the nickname you gave him, "and i looove watching the penguins."

simon presses a kiss on the top of your head, ignoring the bewildered looks his squad is shooting him.

"that's the 'animal planet', love. not the history channel," simon corrects gently, rubbing his hand down your side.

"oh!" you say, unbothered by your mistake. "okay!"

and that was that.

"what the fuck," simon hears johnny wheeze out only to up making choking noises when kyle elbows him. simon ignores them, choosing to watch as you turn back to your phone, mass-retweeting a series of post made by the magazine catalogue that you've been following.

cute.

---------

"fuck," simon hisses, feeling the sharp edge of the kitchen knife slicing through the first layer of his skin. he watches the blood bead, trickling down his finger, and simon wipes it before it can stain the pristine green – "sage!" you tutted to him once – countertops.

"si?" you ask, padding towards the kitchen at the clamour. he feels you press yourself to his side, your perky tits nuzzling his robust muscles. "what's goin- y'r bleeding!"

he grunts, frowning at himself for having made you worry. he moves to reassure you that he's okay, but you're already tugging him out of the kitchen, your smaller hand wrapped around his thicker wrist.

god, he loves seeing the size difference.

you're wearing his military shirt, the material sliding down your body beautifully, before pooling just above your perky ass. simon unabashedly stares at the way your ass jiggles – hidden underneath the tiniest booty shorts he knows you own – his throat bone dry and his sweats filling up all of a sudden.

he barely realizes that you two are in the bathroom until you're steering him towards the edge of the bathtub before twisting to fish the emergency kit from the floor cabinets. simon almost groans at the perfect shape that your ass makes when you bend over, feeling himself throb with raging desire.

you pull out a pink emergency kit and skitter towards him again, slotting yourself between his spread legs. simon raises his hand – the uninjured one – to grasp at your waist, sliding it down to your hips, before giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"it's nothin' fatal, sweet'art," simon mumbles, thumbing your hipbone as he tries to comfort you.

you're still pouting at him when you say, "sure, i guess. but lemme help you?"

and who is simon to say no to that?

"of course, love."

he lets out a quiet chuckle when you press your glossed lips on his forehead, unbothered even when your lips leave a sticky stamp on his skin.

he watches you disinfect his wound with a strawberry-scented sanitizer before wrapping a pink adhesive bandage around it. his worries about having his open wound disinfected by a glittery sanitizer fade away when you picked his hand up to place a kiss on his now-bandaged finger.

glitter-induced infections no longer matter. not when simon's getting nursed to full health by such a pretty girl.

he licks the back of his teeth, clenching his jaw, and thinks, you deserve a reward, don't you, sweetness?

---------

johnny blanches when he sees the bandage around simon's finger. "LT, what in fuck's name is that?"

his loud voice snags the attention of garrick and their captain who ambled their way towards him upon hearing the commotion. garrick chokes on nothing when he sees the pink bandage that simon's sporting.

"bandage," simon replies, pride heavy in his voice. "from my girl."

johnny whirls and shoots a pointed look towards kyle and john. kyle is the one who breaks the silence.

"…are they safe for use?"

"what's the cat even bandaging?" johnny adds.

simon huffs, flicking his finger up to give the squad a better view. "firstly, this is 'hello kitty'. secondly, you questionin' my girl’s ability to care for me?"

john coughs, looking away, kyle arches a brow at him like the answer should be obvious, and johnny gulps loudly, before mumbling, "...yes."

simon sniffs, unable to blame them. "yeah, well, don't."

the squad is still quiet. waiting.

simon finally gives in and replies, "i checked. they're safe for use."

he rolls his eyes at their dramatic sigh.

"that's good to hear," john says before clapping his hands together once, urging them to disperse.

simon grumbles all the way back to his room.

---------

simon loves his pretty, dumb girlfriend to death.

he loves seeing you dolled up – skimpy dresses made of silk material paired with heels that could honestly stab someone to death. he also loves seeing you in nothing but his ratty jumpers – loose black sweaters stopping just after your crotch and the sleeves falling past your fingers.

but nothing tops seeing you naked and crying for him.

nothing could ever top this – your legs folded close to your chest, your ankles hooked on his shoulders, your pretty make up running as tears trickle from the corners of your eyes and flood your cheeks.

he thrusts his fingers in your cunt again, breathless when it punches out another slick gush of your squirt, drenching you two even more. you squeal, body locking, your hips lifting from the bed. simon has to press down on your belly to keep you stable.

"siii!" you cry out, thrashing on his hold, but simon just kisses your leg as he continues to fuck his fingers in you.

"shh," simon murmurs, feeling so choked up at the sight you make. "one more for me, yeah?"

you moan out a reply, a garbled mixture of 'yes' and his name, before wrapping your hands around his arms, your acrylics digging into his skin. simon doesn't even register the pain, still too caught up at fingering you to feel the way you're clawing him.

still too caught up at how perfect you are for him.

(later, when he checks the mirror and sees the angry red welts, simon purrs at the sight of them. because simon loves being marked by you, doesn't matter how, as long as he has bearings of your pleasure. pleasure he gave you.)

---------

simon receives a video message from you. it’s nothing long or conspicuous, but simon still chokes when he finally gets to watch it.

because in the video, you’re wearing simon’s old varsity shirt on top of your university cheer uniform.

“look!” you chirp, twirling for him. “found this in the closet!”

simon slams his captain’s door open and demands a vacation leave.

---------

the lieutenant has a new tattoo and johnny doesn't know what the actual shit it's supposed to be.

it looks like a wriggly blob of a... cloud? a cotton ball? candy floss?

it was still a somewhat fresh tattoo so simon never truly shows it off – johnny doesn't even know if it's worthy of being shown off – until one night at a bar, simon rolls up the sleeves of his jumper and leans to the squad to point at the blob.

"lookit," he slurs, tipsy and just a touch giddy.

finally, johnny cheers to himself before reaching forward to poke just beside the scribble.

"what's it?"

"mittens," their lieutenant croons, smiling down at his skin like a weirdo.

johnny has seen enough mittens to know that whatever that fucking squiggle is isn't mittens.

"uhm," kyle says, thankfully thinking along the same lines as johnny. "is it?"

"yeah," simon says wistfully, drunken in a lovesick way. "s'my girl's cat. she drew it f'r me."

oh. well, fuck. now that's just too cute.

wait.

"that's a drawing of a cat?" johnny rasps out, choking on his spit before turning to study the tattoo again.

it's still a fucking blob.

christ.