#thousands of ideas are exploding in my head

[lvl109]

oh captain, my captain ✶ caleb xia

summary.ᐟ fem reader. wc: 6569. ( ?! ) belated birthday smut because the caleb demons were perched on my shoulders for almost three weeks. half plot half porn because here goes yappatron 3000.

teddy says.ᐟ this was originally supposed to be under 2k words, lmfao. i haven't written smut in a hot minute and didn't know how to end it so show grace. big big linkon sized thank u to my local caleb girlie @neigepomme for answering my silly characterization questions. i told u i was gonna site u as a source and i meant it. surrendering myself as a member of #applegirlnation now bc wdym this started as a joke. there is absolutely nothing funny about six thousand words for a man. sobbing hysterically what is this life. + idk who started writing mc as 'emcee' in fics but i thought it was cute so i used it too. :)

“avoiding the question isn't going to make me stop asking, you know.”

you've been at this for almost two hours now. following him around your apartment with narrowed eyes as he whistled cheerfully and avoided your budding frustration. the shared space is warm with the afterglow of a shared meal and lighthearted conversation. 

or at least, lighthearted until he started ducking your questions.

“i don't know what you're talking about.” his grin is easygoing when he turns to you, blinking innocently as your stare turns into one of comical disbelief. “i did answer your question.”

“answering a question with another question is not an answer—!”

caleb only smiles sheepishly in response. you swear—if not for the fact that he looked cute when he smiled, you'd punch him for his cheeky behavior.

“ow—okay, okay, i'm sorry!”

arms crossed in petulant expectation, you watch as he sighs dramatically and sags into the couch. his head leans back against the plush material, closing his eyes briefly before another smile, this time a bit resigned, crosses his lips.

“i meant it when i said what is there to ask for?, you know.” when his eyes open, his gaze is soft. “i've got everything i could ever ask for, and then some. the two most important people in my life are safe and cared for. i don't really need anything else.”

your expression immediately softens. you knew how selfless your boyfriend could be. it was practically hardwired into his brain to be someone of use to the people he cherished close to his heart. hearing what he and emcee went through from childhood was enough to make anyone give up several times over—and here he was choosing to use himself as a pillar to uplift her at the cost himself over and over again. selflessness seemed to be coded within him.

so when she was able to branch out and fall in love… it had made him wary. the two of them had been practically conjoined by the hip. it made sense he wouldn't have warmed up to the idea immediately. the two of you had actually met that way—an embarrassing moment in time that ended with dropped papers, several spilled coffees, and emcee and her hunter-partner-turned-boyfriend xavier staring at the both of you with varying degrees of concern and amusement.

(‘your first meet was cute!’ is what she always says when you recall the memory with a little bit of embarrassment. the only cute (and hilarious) part was how close caleb looked to exploding out of sheer despair.)

now coming on a year of dating, you'd like to think you know your boyfriend well enough. turns out caleb will never stop surprising you with soft and tender moments of sincerity. and with the way he looks at you when you fall silent, you nearly forget why you're even badgering him in the first place.

shifting over to kneel on the couch beside him, you take his face in your hands and gently brush the pad of your thumb against his cheek. he leans into the feeling as if starved, his eyes fluttering shut once more. long lashes settle over faintly freckled cheeks in a silent show of letting his walls down and bearing his weak side to you. and you appreciate it. you always will.

too bad it still wasn't an answer.

“caleb xia,” you murmur softly, the words hushed in the space between you both. his answering hum is just as light and a kiss is pressed to your fingertips. “i love you dearly, but if you don't answer me, i’m using your hard earned money to buy a robot to do our laundry.”

his eyes fly open immediately. shock, surprise, and—funnily enough—a hint of betrayal shine through his widened gaze. they then narrow as if to gauge how serious you were about a useless technological upgrade before ultimately sighing in defeat.

point to you. (emcee really wasn't lying about his aversion to robots.)

“i really just want to spend time with you,” he concedes, shaking his head when you narrow your eyes at his words. “is that a good enough answer? pips and co. are on an important mission that week, and i'm not going to ask her to cancel for me—”

you nod in agreement. as sad as it was, it was reasonable. sometimes plans couldn't be worked around.

“—even though i could, but—”

caleb makes an exaggerated punted sound when you shove his shoulder, his hands raising in mock surrender. “i won't. not because she won't let me, but because she'll make me see true hell if she finds out i'm the reason behind it.”

your exasperated expression makes him smile, leaning forward to caress your cheek. “so really. i don't want much. as long as you're here and she's safe, then i’m happy. so don't don't stress yourself out about it, okay?”

he pinches your cheek, already knowing you'd swat his hand away for it, intercepting and lacing your hands together. your heart flutters a bit.

“this isn't over,” you grumble, trying your best to stay mad at him. though with how bright his eyes shone when he looked at you, it was a difficult task to maintain. “watch your back.”

“aye, captain.”

you stress yourself out about it. naturally, of course.

could anyone blame you? you wanted his birthday to be perfect. it's the least you could do right by him, someone who refused your help mostly because he was stubborn, but mostly because he didn't want to feel like a burden. 

but you had plans. and you would see them through.

you ask him to meet you near the fleet’s landing pad a few hours in advance, wanting to surprise him right after work, complete with vague responses to his confused but otherwise curious inquiries. the sound of your shoes are muffled against the flooring. as you make your way into the headquarters, a little robot flits around your head in greeting.

“welcome to the farspace fleet’s headquarters, miss.”

once you finish signing in, you quickly make your way to the designated meeting spot. confused stares and murmurs waft over your head as you pass his fellow pilots and staff members alike, but you pay them no mind. you were only here for one person and one person alone–the very same who happened to have his back towards you, engrossed in a game on a small holographic screen. fondness coloring your expression for a few seconds, you quickly change it before clearing your throat.

“does the colonel usually spend his hours playing mini games all day? maybe you get a pass for today. it’s very special, after all.”

with the cold press of a drink against his cheek, caleb startles slightly before whirling around at the sound of your voice, the hologram swiped away with a quick movement of his hand. briefly surprised, his expression morphs into one of mirth, rubbing at his cheek where the soda previously touched skin.

“so that’s your first birthday surprise for me?” a scoff pairs itself with a teasing eye roll. “thank…”

his gaze drops lower, holding you at arms length, and his words trail off. your smile falters a bit nervously.

the outfit you were wearing wasn’t just any outfit. black boots, a collared shirt tucked into black pants, and a jacket bearing the insignia of the farspace fleet’s logo on its slightly padded shoulder revealed you dressed in a similar fashion to the man standing before you, even to the hat nestled comfortably atop your head. it had taken you a while to even round up most of the items you were wearing, down to the gloves that adorned your hands.

because every colonel needed their lieutenant, right?

caleb sputters out something akin to a laugh, frayed around the edges with disbelief. “where’d you even…”

“i had some help.” your voice trembles a bit, clearing your throat before grinning sheepishly. “not saying who. but, um. i wanted to get to know your world, too. so i hope this is okay.”

his prolonged silence makes you increasingly nervous. his expression is a bit unreadable underneath the brim of his hat, and the more he stares, the more you fidget. until he opens his mouth again.

“i don't like how everyone else is looking at you.”

the words make you freeze, watching in real time as the weight of his gaze intensifies. it's then do you tune in the rest of your surroundings again, hearing faint murmurs and parts of conversation. your eyes meet. his hands travel from your shoulders to take your hands in his.

“caleb—” you sputter out in disbelief, similar to his earlier reaction as a laugh lodges itself somewhere in your throat. of all things to say—

“you want to be second in command? you look the part, lieutenant.” for a brief moment a hint of amusement glints in his eyes. approval. a small shiver runs down your back. “doesn't mean i like people looking at what's mine.”

you blink and he's on your left, the palm of his right hand at your lower back warm even through your clothes. “you know i don't like to bring work home,” he drawls lowly as he begins to walk, causing you to walk as well. “seems home came to me instead. how do you figure.”

you peek at him as you approach his private plane. he looks so pleased. this is going far better than you thought it would, making you exhale quietly in relief.

“can't believe you're gonna make me fly on my birthday, though.” 

caleb pouts a bit as he leans into your space, adding on, “was looking forward getting home and burying my face between your —”

onlookers titter as you smack the farspace fleet’s colonel’s arm in shocked dismay with him grinning as he lets you. 

dinner in the skies wasn't an easy feat to plan. but with a boyfriend who loved you enough to go with your odd directions, after two hours of jetting over the skies of skyhaven, picking up orders from your favorite spots, and gaining access to an airborne movie theater, the private jet was nestled comfortably in the air.

“cruising altitude?”

“somethin’ comfortable,” caleb’s voice pipes up from the front of the plane.

“coordinates?”

“positioned exactly where you asked, baby.”

you look out of a window and come face to face with a beautiful sunset. yellow and orange bleed into pinks, blues, and sharp violets reminiscent of your lover’s eyes. the thought warms your heart with enough heat to rival the lowering sun.

arms encircle your waist from behind when you straighten up, squeezing gently before a weight presses himself against your back. his chin hooks over your shoulder like he'd always meant to be there. 

“if i'm looking through the window and you're here, who's flying the plane?” you tease lightly, but make no effort to remove his arms. 

something around the lines of autopilot is muffled into your collar. looking through the reflection in the glass, you can just make out the sight of caleb with his eyes closed in momentary bliss.

“did you like the movie?” you ask softly. “i had some help with that, too. she sends her birthday wishes and her present is waiting for you at home.”

caleb squeezes you a bit tighter, nosing along the line of your shoulder before his eyes flutter shut. “you didn't have to do this all this for me,” he mumbles just as quietly. his brows furrow as an unreadable expression crosses his face. “but i love it. love you. thank you, baby.”

your own eyes flutter shut briefly when he kisses your cheek in thanks, the gesture sweet and loving. but his kisses move from your cheek to your jawline as his hands slowly begin to wander, a gasp leaving your throat when he gently tugs your tie loose to move your collar out of the way.

“can't believe you played dress up for my birthday. aren't i lucky?” your collar finally loosens enough for him to kiss right where your neck and shoulder meet, smiling against your skin when you shiver. “tell me who helped you put it together so i can fire them for insubordination.”

“wha—why?” you can barely think as his hands run through the buttons of your collared shirt, your jacket discarded somewhere on the aircraft. “don't fire anyone, shit—”

“it's my birthday.” his voice lowers with toying calmness to it as hands find skin, making you hiss upon contact. “i can wish for whatever i want for the next few hours. and the colonel,”

his lips brush just shy of your ear, nearly tipping the hat off your head. “wants his second in command out of her clothes. can she do that f’me?”

was the sky blue?

you don't remember how the two of you got home that night, let alone how caleb managed to land the plane without crashing into one of the city's many towering skyscrapers. all you can feel right now is the cold surface of the door through your shirt’s thin material before caleb surges forward to kiss you like he'd die if he spent another second away from you.

“you have no idea how much i wanted to rip this thing off you when i first saw it.” 

a hoarse laugh rips from his throat the second he pulls away from your lips, trembling hands sliding down the outline of your body. his gaze is reverent. hungry. you feel pinned to the surface and he's barely even touched you.

“really?”

“got hard immediately. that's why we left so soon.” and despite the heat between the both of you, he still makes you laugh, giggling as you push at his chest a bit. “what? honesty is the best policy ‘n all that.”

your tie comes off first, finally. the buttons you'd hastingly redone after just barely keeping his hands off of you aboard the plane fly off in different directions next as his frustrations build up. and when the material pools at your arms, he freezes again.

you duck your head shyly, the brim of your hat casting a shadow over your face. “surprise…”

black lace comes into view, sprawling over your chest and barely peeking underneath your pants. caleb stares.

“just one surprise after another.” he exhales through his nose, a gloved hand settling on your bare waist. “the perfect gift that keeps on giving. look at you.”

you can't discern whether or not he looks tormented from self preservation or the last fraying nerve desperately trying to hold itself together for his sanity’s sake. but the moment you shrug your shirt off and take a daring step forward into his space, you watch in real time as the last thread of his patience snaps in two.

with barely a grunt in sound, the floor gives as caleb hauls you over his shoulder to march towards your bedroom. pieces of your uniform lay discarded to form a path straight towards the plush mattress where caleb lays you down gently—but his eyes are anything but. darkened violet betrays the intense amount of arousal surely swirling through his head as he gets down on his knees before you.

“ah—wait, caleb—” your voice is already shot as he spreads your legs open, his nose brushing against the flimsy lace barely covering anything in between. his lips begin to part before he registers the calling of his name, his eyes flicking upwards. “i f-forgot to show you the cake–nghh—”

he licks a bold stripe against your covered core right as the last of your words tumble out of your mouth, large hands pressing your legs open as they begin to tremble. the sudden heat makes you flinch, reaching out to push at his shoulders with shaking fingers.

“you don't wanna eat the cake first—? we can—”

a faint snap! against your skin makes you jump, looking down to see his fingers toying with the band of your underwear. warmth spreads like fire across the surface of your skin. 

“can i take these off?”

huh? “caleb, the cake—”

“can i take these off?” he repeats slowly, his gaze dropping back down. “we’ll get to the cake later. wanna finish unwrapping my present.”

you lamely let your hand drop back to your side, nodding after a moment. “okay,” you mumble. “you… you can take them off.”

you lift your legs in preparation, fully expecting them to be slid down and tossed somewhere behind them. but a loud rip echoes in the room instead, and before you can even register what he'd done, his mouth finds your clit and latches on brazenly.

your trembling arms finally give out as you keen in surprise. the only thing preventing your thighs from framing his head is the strong grip keeping them apart. the mattress is soft against your back as your hands find purchase in the sheets and tug. small whimpers and moans leave your lips but it's nothing in comparison to how debauched he sounds. labored breathing and low moans paired with the growing wetness of his mouth against your most sensitive parts. 

you look down when a sharp feeling in your lower stomach begins to coil tightly, tears budding in the corner of your eyes as you part your lips to tell him such. but the sight you're met with sends yet another wave of heat down your back.

his face flushed red, his brows furrowed above eyes fluttered shut. the tips of his ears are bright red, and you know if you brush your fingers along the outer part, they'd be warm to the touch. what makes your heart stutter in your chest however, is the begging. and you barely even hear it at first.

“please… please, mmnnf please—” words slurred together between your legs, unintelligible and rushed. he tugs you further against his mouth, unwilling to let you go. all you hear is wet. “cum on m’face. please? pretty please? f’me?”

heat coils tighter and tighter until it becomes unbearable. your hands move from the rumpled sheets to his shoulder, momentary loss of mind making him forget to take his jacket off, but his shoulders don't budge against the sudden onslaught your hands bring. your voice pitches higher and higher, scrambling to grasp anything to hold until they push his hat off to find purchase in his hair and tug.

his answering moan, loud and unashamed, is your undoing. your orgasm crashing into you with the speed on a freight train, your back bowing taut and off the bed as your voice cracks on the near yell you let out. and caleb is unrelenting, slick sounds of him taking in every last drop of your essence dripping down your thighs and running down his chin. 

“that's it,” he breathes out, eyeing the way your thighs tremble as your hole clenches around nothing. without much hesitation, he licks another bold path on your thigh, grinning when you shriek in surprise. “what a sight for sore eyes. think you can sit on my face?”

you can barely lift your head up to stare at him in disbelief, your chest heaving as the toll of your orgasm rushes to your head. he blinks back almost innocently, his cheek pressed against your inner thigh. “pretty please?”

your head drops back down to the sheets. “you'll have to move me,” you say weakly. “i'm out of commission.”

his laugh is low in sound and it makes you shiver. he presses a kiss to your hip bone and immediately gets to work. mouth still wet, he pulls his gloves off with his teeth before gently maneuvering you to a dry spot before hauling himself atop the sheets as well. it takes a moment, limbs reduced to jelly, but before long your thighs frame his face once again.

you watch in real time as his gaze darkens at the angle change, his hands smoothing down your hips. “will never get tired of you looking at you,” he murmurs, turning his head to press a kiss to your knee. your body trembles in response, hands gripping at the headboard. “prettiest thing i've ever seen.”

“preparing for landing,” your voice cracks on the joke. caleb smiles, his thumbs smoothing shapes crossed your skin. up and down, almost v-shaped.

hearts. he was drawing hearts on your skin. your lower lip trembles when you realize.

oh how he loved you.

“least now i know you were really paying attention when i was talking.” his smile turns a bit sharp. hungry again. “land her on me. c’mon.”

slowly, with encouraging words and guiding hands, you lower yourself above his mouth. he releases a breath into the silence chalked tense with arousal once more. you look down to see his vision go hazy with want. and then he inhales sharply.

the sound makes you jolt, mortified at his sudden action, and before you can even choke out the first syllable of his name, he yanks your hips the rest of the way down. his tongue immediately gets to work swirling pointed circles around your clit, the pleasure skyrocketing high enough for you to immediately forget what you were about to say.

the first word you manage to blurt out is a curse, rolling your hips forward to chase the high you so desperately wanted now that shame had been discarded once again. “f-fuck—caleb, caleb—”

his nose catches on your clit and you scream, gripping the headboard so hard it hurts. he shows no sign of relenting, not even when your second orgasm ripples through your body. all he does is moan, the sound grateful.

two orgasms in less than ten minutes. at this rate, you'd be dead weight come morning.

trying to give his neck reprieve, you slowly begin to lift yourself up, clinging to the headboard. caleb immediately begins to complain, panting through slurred words. “where’re you goin’? ‘m not finished… ‘m not—fuck, come back? please?”

he blinks rapidly, adjusting back to the dim lighting. his hair is tugged in all sorts of directions from your frenzied grip, his face wet from the nose down and flushed red down to his neck. yet his brows remained furrowed with determination.

his hands reach for your hips again, gently trying to coax you back down. “i'll make you feel real good, y’know that right? prettiest present i've ever gotten. perfect… she's perfect, you're perfect, and you're all mine…”

you bite your lower lip, shifting above him. it draws his attention like a magnet and you let out another mortified sound, opting to move and sit on his lap instead.

big mistake.

caleb lets out a sharp hiss the moment you do, immediately tightening his grip on your waist. “don't move.” you take in his increasingly reddened appearance and pause, two things suddenly dawning on you.

one, caleb was still dressed. and two, the hard mass currently twitching underneath you was the reason why he'd tensed so quickly after you'd sat down. you rock your hips experimentally and get a slew of curses in response.

“or do,” he manages to wheeze out. he lowers his head for a moment. “jesus. don't wanna cum anywhere but inside of you, so if you would be so kind—”

your hips buck up once again and he whines. “you're playing dirty,” caleb hissed lowly, his expression pinched. it spurs you to action.

“can i let you in on a secret?” 

caleb eyes you with equal parts interest and weariness as the palms of your hands rest on his shoulders. “i've always thought you looked good in uniform,” you admit sheepishly, smiling faintly when he lets out a snort. “i’m serious! it's… i don't know. whatever they say about men in uniform.”

“that's real cute of you,” he drawls slowly, leaning back to look at all of you. “considering you're leaking all over it.”

the two of you look down to see a dark patch between your legs right where the outline of him is more than visible. the sight only heightens the arousal between the two of you, and that's when he decidedly has enough.

“here's what's going to happen.” 

he pats your side for you to lift your hips, groaning at the sight of slick sticking to the fabric. pearly whites sinking into his lower lip, the sound of his belt unbuckling masks the sound of your mingled breaths as his hand tugs and pulls at the material with budding annoyance.

“let me help.” your hands settle over his, tugging the leather out of the loop. the sound of his zipper is loud. his chest rises and falls the more your hands graze where he needs relief the most. “okay?”

“mhm.” his brows pinch together again, half-lidded gaze trained on your hands. “okay. okay. haah—just—mmnplease, take it out.” 

his rigid posture screams hurry. you slide your hand between skin and soft cotton and his head thunks against the headboard.

“caleb?!”

groaning, his hips buck into your hand. “‘m fine,” he sniffles, letting out a breath. “no, ‘m not. i dunno. can i fuck you already?”

you blink at him, taken aback as you sputter out, “are you concussed —?” your hand moves to pull out of his pants and he lets out a sound akin to a kicked puppy. “sorry—but that sounded pretty bad, i should look at—”

you're yanked back down, seated right on top of his cock again. it makes him curse once more. “can i make one last wish?” he doesn't wait for you to nod. “i'll let you in on a secret of my own. i've been dreaming about fucking you until either one of us cried.”

now you gape at him. he stares right back.

“with you on top, like this.” his breathing picks up, getting off on his own words. “ridin’ me. like you owned me. you do. you do. think about it all the time. and…”

he pats around for a moment, shushing your sound of confusion. his arms lift above your head and something a little bigger than form fitting settles on your head. when he pulls back, you swear his cock twitches a mile underneath you.

“yeah. yeah—even better than i imagined. fuck me.” 

he straightens the brim, tilting your head towards him. “my last wish,” he murmurs, “is watching you take my cock while wearin’ this. any objections, captain?”

oh.

a weird sense of exhilaration flows through you at his sudden address, emboldened by the slightest shift in power dynamic. your hand travels further into his pants, your grip unforgiving as his head falls back in faint relief. “no objections. but i do have one request.”

“ye–aah, baby?” breathless, he forces himself to watch through gritted teeth as you finally free his cock, letting out a sigh of relief. “what is it? what?”

“just something i wanted confirmation on from earlier.” your hand wraps around the girth of him, causing him to shudder. “i just think it's so interesting how much you know about planes. it's cute. but i don't remember if it was the f-22 or f-15 that was the fastest…”

you can tell he really wants to answer. but right as he opens his mouth, your grip tightens before slowly beginning to apply pressure as you stroke. caleb chokes, hips bucking up into your hand.

“it's the-the 15,” he answers quickly, groaning lowly. “it's b-built for mach 2.5 speed and—ohh fuck—designed for co–oh god, go faster, please.”

you stop instead and he flinches. “wha—no, nononono, c’mon—”

“designed for what? you didn't finish.”

caleb looks like he's about to burst, silently weighing his options before clearing his throat. “...designed primarily for air-to-air combat.”

“good to know.” the soft smile you give him gets you a weak one in return. “what else?”

his smile falls. your hand squeezes around him once more and he emits a broken sound. “fuck, okay, okay. c-compared to the f-22, which was designed for—shit, f-for stealth over aerodynamics and flies at—at mach 2.25 speed.”

his hips begin shifting again, chasing the warm heat of your palm, beginning to ramble and trip over his own words. “they both can, mnngh reach altitudes of over 60,000 feet or more making th-them perfect options for important operations. fuckfuckfuck—but they're not used for just combat, they can be used for training, search and rescue, and—god, that's so good.”

your fist is covered in precum, making it easier to slide over his cock at an increasing speed that makes him tremble. his mouth opens and closes over butchered attempts at words, face as red as his angry tip. 

“such a mess. not the only one leaking over your uniform anymore, right?”

“wanna cum.” he blurts out, his grips in the sheets white knuckled. “b-but inside. please? wanna fuck you so bad pleasepleaseee i—”

he groans when your fist works even faster, weak hands pushing at your own. “baby–baby no, fuck, inside—insi—oh fuck—”

caleb makes a sound between a disbelieving laugh and a moan as he resigns himself to your whims, chin dropping to his chest as his hips stutter once, twice, three times before coating your hand opaque white. stuttered breaths fill the air before an idea pops into your head.

you bring your stained hand up to his mouth. he blinks at first, surprise adding to the red flushing his face, but after a moment he leans forward to lick out of your hand painted white. desire strikes hot and heavy in your stomach as you maintain heavy eye contact, his tongue swirling over each individual finger. it doesn't take much for him to get hard again.

“did i pass?” he releases a breath, staring at the way your hips shift above him. “wanna be inside you now. you can keep quizzing me later. please.”

his eagerness spurs you into movement, letting out a small laugh of your own when his evol lifts you in the air as he searches for a condom. “been dreamin' about this for months and it's finally happening—you don't get to make fun of me if i cum in like three seconds when it's in all the way.”

your laughter grows in volume when you settle in his lap again, subject to his sudden onslaught of kisses. his nose bumps against yours in a silent moment of sweetness. his awkwardness with the condom eases your nerves a little bit, clumsily helping him stretch the latex over his cock. 

“would never.” your hand pushes his chest so his back is flat against the sheets, straightening up on your knees and using your free hand to position him right against your heat. “we take care of each other. it's okay if you do.”

caleb takes the hand placed near his heart and presses a kiss to your palm. an unspoken thank you resonates through the gentle action.

“ready?” he breathes out, his gaze trained on your face. “i know i've been… needy—”

“understatement.” the teasing lilt to your voice earns you a pinch to your side. it makes you bat at his hand with a grin, “sorry, continue.”

“but, if you want to back out, i don't mind going down on you again and we can do this another time. at the expense of heroically suffering through blue balls for however long it takes.”

you roll your eyes fondly, squeezing his hand. “you're very sweet, but i intend on fulfilling your birthday wish. besides… i want this, too.”

your hips lower as if to prove your point, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance before pushing in. caleb’s immediate moan makes you clench around him, his hands flying to your hips to help guide you down.

“all of it,” he murmurs as if entranced by the sight of you taking him in, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin. “takin’ me so well already.”

you don't expect to feel so full the more you slowly skin down, breathing through the stretch. whimpers fall from your lips without warning, biting your lower lip when he shifts his hips and you slip down even further. his praise is nonstop the entire time, more ramble than coherent words.

“feels so good around me. so pretty on top of me, yeah? doin’ so well, you're almost there. and then it'll feel so much better, okay?”

“caleb—”

“i know.” his voice is sweet. cooing, almost. “i know, baby. it's taking all me not to go all the way in just like that. but you can take it. i know you can. right?”

your head is nodding before you can even register his words, wiggling your hips before sliding down a bit more. “yeah. mhm—so big. can feel it in—”

you slide all the way down when he squeezes your hips, letting out a surprised squeak. ass flush against his thighs, caleb’s voice drops an octave lower when your walls flutter around him sporadically.

“see? you're—shit—doing so well. took it all just like you said you would. fuck.” his pupils dilate at the sight, sighing with pleasure as one hand moves to press against your stomach, long fingers spreading across your skin. “can feel me right… here.”

and as if a switch turns on in your brain, you begin to move in slow circles, breath catching at the fleeting sparks of pleasure. his hands settle on your hips to hold, fully letting you take control of both of your pleasures. with every sound you pull from him, every moan and sharp exhale of your name, your moves begin to grow bolder, walls clenching at each time you land back down in his lap.

“feels so good.” you pant lowly, the sound of skin slowly beginning to fill the room. the drag of his cock hitting deep inside you elicits a sweet sound from your throat that has him responding with a needier one of his own. “do you—does it feel—ohmygod—”

the sound between your legs is near sinful, wet squelches from the slippery glide turning easier the more you lift your hips. and all caleb can do is watch in awe as your head falls back with pleasure before you can even finish your sentence, committing the sight to memory as he begins to ramble once more.

“i'm the luckiest man to ever—ever walk the planet.” he begins to rub frantic circles on your clit, stuttering when you cry out and squeeze around his cock. “gettin’ to s-see this, to see you like this. fuck, thank you, thank you—take it, take it, it's yours. ‘m yours, always have been—”

unable to help himself, his hips start to meet your own in mindless thrusts, making you jolt and look down in surprise. “caleb—? ca—ahh, wait—”

his entire body trembles from the intense pleasure, his thrusts speeding up now that he's gotten to feel you. “can't—i can't, ‘m sorry, you're squeezin’ me so tight, feels like i can't breathe. gotta move, ‘msorrysosorry, angel—”

his hips slam against yours, wet and sticky with sweet and slick, his thumb still pressed firmly against your clit. the pressure makes you squeeze and flutter around him, drawing out more and more moans from your chest.

“your voice is so pretty, did you know? keep—fucking—singing for me. want everyone to know how good you're taking me.”

your entire body flushes with heat, skin prickling at his vulgar expression. but your body responds with short bursts of sounds pulled from your throat despite your best efforts, jolted whines and gasps filling the air. as a familiar heat coils in your stomach again, caleb’s thrusts also get sloppier.

“you're almost there—can feel it. sucking me in even more.” he sucks in a breath, brows furrowed slightly. “could stay buried in this pussy forever. and you'd let me, right? let me fuck load after load inside you, painting the prettiest picutre of you covered in my cum. full of me, about to burst. maybe even—maybe—”

your head lolls to one side, eyes half lidded as the brunt of caleb’s pussy drunk babbling and fantasies hit you full force. he'd made sure to use a condom before he fucked you, but the thought that maybe he… maybe one day, you'd let him fuck you raw. to really feel him inside of you without the protective barrier of latex. the thought makes your hips jerk, hands scrambling for anything to hold on to as the pleasure heightens.

caleb surges up to claim your lips in a bruising kiss, teeth clashing as your nails dig into his shoulders. his lips travel to your neck, the scrape of teeth causing the both of you to groan in unison. the sharp feeling of pain and pleasure mix into something indescribable, both of you hurtling towards a shared high.

“i love you,” he pants against your shoulder before whimpering low in his throat. “love you so much. best birthday ever. could die right now as the ha—ahh—ppiest i've ever been. ‘m gonna give it to you right now. say you love me and i'll let you cum.”

your lips part around a whine almost immediately. “i love you, i love you, pleasepleaseplease, caleb—!”

“sound so pretty when you say my name.” he presses a kiss to your jaw, nosing into your neck as his thumb doesn't let up on your clit. “go ahead and cum right… now.”

the pleasure is instantaneous. the coil snaps and heat rushes to your abdomen as your voice cracks on a hoarse moan, creaming all over his cock. your nails dig into his back, tears budding in the corner of your eyes as your orgasm rocks your entire body. 

caleb isn't too far behind, spurred on by the sharp tug of his hair when he nips at your shoulder. a sharp gasp is all you get in warning before he pulses inside of you, shuddering apart in your arms before he sags against your shoulder with a weak groan. 

closing your eyes to savor the haze post orgasm, you run your fingers through sweat slicked hair and press kisses to his forehead as he shivers and anchors your hips down.

“sensitive.” he mumbles against your shoulder. “don't move.”

“least you didn't cum early.” caleb lets out a low groan and you laugh, petting his head. “proud of you.”

“yeah, yeah.” he grouches through the brief showing of a smile, closing his eyes. “it's still my birthday so you're not allowed to make fun of me.”

“mm, is that right?”

caleb huffs, amping up the theatrics, refusing to calm down until you cup his face and silence him with a kiss. only then does he settle down enough for you to wish him a happy birthday with an even sweeter kiss, lifting your hips up to settle down in the rumpled sheets as he disposes of the condom. exhaustion hits your body even harder than after your first orgasm, nearly half asleep when he comes back with a damn cloth to wipe away the sweat and cum from your thighs.

“i love you,” he whispers against your skin when he settles back into bed besides you, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you close. “we’ll get to the cake and presents tomorrow. thank you for everything you did today, baby. i loved it and i love you so, so much.”

three squeezes to your linked fingers is your response before you fall asleep in his arms. i love you, too.

[theferal-possum]

sorry to bring up klance in the big year 2025 but i found a w.i.p. i had with like. 4 scenes and a handful of paragraphs but why is this some of the most beautiful writing ive ever made

His mind pauses on the memory, a few years ago now, when this had all started. They had finally started getting along, just a bit after Sendak's attempt to take over the castle. After Lance had said they were a good team then forgotten about it.

..Asshole.

They were on the observation deck after running into eachother in the middle of the night. Neither wanting to admit the reason they were still awake.

(They both knew it was nightmares, nights after particularly gruesome battles were never easy.)

"Man, I can't wait to go back to Earth once this is all over."

He tilted his head at Lance, confused.

"Really? You want to go back?"

"Yeah? I mean I want to go home, don't you?"

Home?

Keith thought about it for a moment, trying to recall any place that's truly felt like home. He's been in many houses before, constantly filtering through different foster families that'd always trade him off the moment they could. And sure, he had a rundown shack in the middle of the desert that was barely safe enough to be considered a house.

But no, he's never had a home before.

----

And now here he stands, in knee length waves and the sun shining in just a way that makes his sun tanned skin look as if it was dusted with pure gold.

And for a moment, Keith thinks that Lance is the most beautiful person in the world.

No amount of war and scars and blood stained battles could ever take that away from him.

----

"There was this one time. On Naxzela." He breathes out. This was a over a year ago now, so why does he feel so anxious?

"I knew you guys had to get out, so. I was going to break through the barrier myself."

"That fighter.. Keith, that was you?" Lance sits up, staring down at where Keith laid uhhhword descipyor, sometjinggg.

"I had to get everyone home. Get you home." His voice barely above a whisper now. "I closed my eyes, a few seconds before I would've impacted. I didn't want to know how close I was."

He closes his eyes, and when they open again Lance can see the stars reflected in them. He can see the resignation, the acceptance, the odd calmness about the situation that makes Lance uneasy.

"Why would you- Keith, the ship would've exploded- you would've died. Why would you do that?"

"..You mentioned before your home, back here on Earth. Everyone did. Everyone had families to go home to. I thought, if I could do this one thing, nothing else would matter." He pauses, hand carding through the sand. "No amount of battles lost, no amount of painful injuries or days spent in pods, not even losing my life. None of it would matter if you got that. If I could give you that."

"Promise me you won't-" His voice breaks, a hiccup interrupting. "Won't do something like that, again."

"You know I can't do that.."

"Keith." He grips onto Keith's shirt, lip trembling from where he was biting it.

"..I promise."

He promised, because Lance asked. Only Lance could make him promise to not be reckless, something that was in his nature.

Only Lance.

----

(no idea what leads up to this.. will brainstorm)

The truth?

The truth was, that as much as any man could, Keith loved Lance McClain.

So much so that no words could ever describe it. Not a hundred, not a thousand, hell not even a million.

And so he kissed him.

Because if he couldn't say it, he was going to show him.

should i continue working on this??? its a post s8 technically canon compliant(/divergent???) and i already have a name for it, apparently

at the end of calamity (lies a home waiting for you)

[polaroid-petals]

Now I'm thinking about Stranger talking not to Sunny as he inhabits Omori's body, but to Omori himself, inverting the usual dynamic where he talks only to the dreamer. Completely ignoring Sunny in favour of trying to get Omori to follow his rhetoric and be convinced to stop being the knife that Sunny drives inside himself.

[kurooh]

bf! toji who fucks you so well on camera that your account skyrockets to the top on onlyfans and pornhub. his face, body, and dirty talk garners thousands—no, millions—of followers and gets the money rolling in faster than you could say his name. of course, he’s not the only reason for all the popularity; you’re sexy in every way possible, fucking him back before you inevitably go dumb on his cock, going so far as to talk right back to him.

“what am i, a whore?” despite his words, toji smirks, clicking his tongue at the incoming comments of new members of the stream. “we’ve been live for two minutes. ‘m not taking my clothes off yet, damn.”

“oh, come on,” you press up against his side, manicured nails lightly raking over his biceps, “give ‘em what they want, toji.”

he huffs, turning his head to the side. still damp from the shower, toji’s dark hair goes along with the movement, bits sticking to his forehead. “what you want or what they want, baby?”

the chat explodes with wild comments, ranging from raw next question to i’m doing it are you, all of which makes you laugh. tips ka-ching on the screen and finally, the clothes fly off in all directions.

toji’s on his back, greedily pulling you on top of his face like he’s starving (dinner was an hour ago). he’s refrained from ripping off your underwear, favoring the idea of teasing you through the fabric instead.

“off, let me take ‘em off,” you whine, squirming as he holds you over his face and takes his sweet goddamn time licking over your dampened panties. “that’s not fair, toji.”

his green eyes narrow at you, a scoff slipping past his lips. so sassy, but at least he doesn’t ignore your pleas this time—maybe toji’s feeling magnanimous. “suck it up.”

perhaps not. another whine, and you go so far as to tug at his hair, hips rocking insistently into his face. “you’re so annoying,” neither of you are looking at your phone, the way the screen’s bursting with colorful tip notifications and comments, “if you aren’t hungry, just say so. don’t waste my time, toji.”

of course toji would never admit it, but he’s got a habit of being easy: always taking your purposeful bait, smug expression melting into a scowl. and oh, maybe that was the wrong thing to say—but it certainly feels so damn right when he yanks your panties to the side and sits you all the way down on his face.

still offended, he grunts, mumbling something intelligible as his lips find your wet cunt. (like, you’ve been together for how long?) slippery arousal coats your skin, slicking up his lips with something bittersweet when he indulges in his favorite dessert.

you’re rocking your hips into his face, eagerly taking everything he’s giving you. a small moan escapes you when your clit bumps into the tip of his nose, sending a delightful bolt of electricity through your entire body.

“t-toji, fuck.”

your virtual audience is nearly enjoying this as much as you are. if his teeth weren’t lightly nibbling at your folds while his tongue pushes inside you inch by inch, you’d be in a state to laugh at the comments. one of his palms falls away from your ass and before you can register the brief loss, a stinging slap cuts through the air.

“oughta watch that mouth, babygirl,” toji ignores the wail that follows the impact, along with the glossy tears that spring to your eyes. “maybe if you didn’t have so much goddamn nerve, i’d..”

it shouldn’t come out as quickly as it does, but you purposefully grind down into his mouth, ignoring the muffled sound of him choking on all the saliva. “you’d what, toji?”

some comments are excited, wondering what’ll happen now that you’re challenging him right back. others are raving about being in your position or toji’s—something along the lines of how difficult it is to choose.

he shoves you up with just one hand, feeling his cock twitch from the softness of your thighs circling his head and the way you use that damn mouth of yours. toji’s never had someone talk back to him as much as you do, and it’s something he’ll never get tired of. it’s something that throws him off while he’s giving you backshots and secretly makes him cum faster, although he pretends to get hamstring cramps just to buy himself some more time.

toji’s almost too blissed out to snap back.

“i’d give you mercy, but what was i jus’ saying? maybe you’d like it a little fuckin’ better if i kept eating this pussy of yours.”

you look down your nose at him. “like you could keep going, old man.”

that strikes a chord, hitting a nerve much faster than it should. so toji drags in a breath and dives in, as filthy and careless as he can be—making a mess, spreading your legs impossibly wider just to find that sweet spot of yours that always gets you arching on his face.

wet noise fills the room, backing the breathless gasps and moans that fall from your lips, along with softer panting of mumbled praises bunching with his name. the way he eats—no, devours—you is akin to someone who’s been both starving and thirsty for days on end, too insatiable to please with just one taste.

ecstasy sparks in all your nerves, chasing its way to the tension pooling in the core of your body. it’s red hot and heavy, begging to be released; but no, toji commands your high with the rough strokes of his tongue and obscene slurping of his lips. he lets it simmer right below the surface until you’re begging, hands on either side of his head as you weakly hump against his face.

“i-i said,” you grit out, ignoring the sticky sheen of sweat covering your face, “make me cum, toji.”

he arches an eyebrow, satisfaction sparkling in his eyes. “and ya still didn’t say please.”

frustration bubbles up in your chest. it’s rare for you to be reduced to a begging mess on live, but there’s supposedly a first time for everything. your lips part, preparing to give him what he wants, when something bratty speaks in the back of your mind. there’s no need to listen to him, is there?

with one hand slipping into his damp hair and the other stabilizing you on the bed, you take what you want from him. like an ocean wave, your hips roll not-so-gently over his face until you finally fall over the edge, convulsing a little as you cum.

the orgasm literally takes your breath away—not to mention his as well—and leaves you whining as you come down from the intense high, stars shooting across your vision. neither of you have been paying much attention to your phone, too engrossed in each other to notice the fact that you’ve met the livestream donation goal or all the new followers you’ve earned.

toji lifts you up, cheeks flushed scarlet. he is simultaneously turned on by you taking control of him and also pissed that you refused to say just one word.

“fucking brat,” toji curses, easily maneuvering your weakened body into a new position that’s got you on your hands and knees, ass all the way up. “you’re gonna face that goddamn camera while i wreck this pretty pussy, got that?”

“‘m still sensi—oh my god. a-ah, fuck—wait a second, i—”

behind you, toji smacks his lips, placing both hands on your ass cheeks and spreading you wide. “no, no. this is what you wanted, right? for me to make you cum again and a-fucking-gain.”

you backpedal, back arching unintentionally when two large fingers slide into your cunt without much resistance. “fuck, tojiii, wait—”

a squeal actually leaves you when he puts a hand on the small of your back and forces you to maintain the arch. toji can be stingy at times, but never when you—he’s got a habit of being too generous, if the right buttons are pushed.

“might wanna think about saying please next time, yeah? fuckin’ thought so.”

[street-smarts00]

Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited. 

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you. 

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love. 

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically. 

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders. 

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope. 

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact. 

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs. 

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm. 

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind. 

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane. 

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk. 

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started. 

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk. 

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair. 

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it. 

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen. 

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face. 

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.” 

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.” 

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.” 

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked. 

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.” 

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive. 

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.” 

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships. 

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.” 

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.” 

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought. 

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him. 

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings. 

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name. 

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him. 

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to. 

~

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home. 

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.  

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night. 

“Hey,” you greeted. 

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door. 

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath. 

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“Huh?” 

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly. 

“Oh.” 

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips. 

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled. 

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was. 

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms. 

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head. 

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need. 

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache. 

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered. 

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck. 

“Do you wanna lie down?” 

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute 

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.” 

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend. 

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him. 

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …” 

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers. 

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had. 

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg. 

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm. 

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did. 

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms. 

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice. 

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you. 

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured. 

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold. 

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?” 

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.” 

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response. 

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze. 

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.  

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.” 

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank. 

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch. 

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.” 

“Yes you were.” 

“Y/N please,” he begged. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.” 

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it. 

“I was freaking out,” he blurted. 

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now. 

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable” 

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good. 

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?” 

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment. 

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

 Here we go. Flood gates. 

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ” 

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper. 

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence. 

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach. 

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss. 

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him. 

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears. 

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.” 

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased. 

“That too,” he chuckles. 

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,” 

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added. 

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh. 

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

[lubdubology]

Til The Sun Turns Black

SYNOPSIS: Your soul is bound to his and you're destined to follow him across the multiverse. When the TVA finds you and sends you to the Void, you feel your chance of finding him has slipped through your fingers. But what you find there is more than you bargained for.

PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader

WC: 13.1 k I apologize for nothing

WARNINGS: smut 18+, mdni, mentions of drinking, angst, peril, some fluff, implied age gap (I guess?), mental trauma, miscommunication, Wade being Wade, dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, cowgirl, missionary, cock warming, sex with feelings, unprotected p in v

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on Soft Edges! I was not expecting that kind of response when I posted that story, so thank you <3. I had the idea for this story in my head since after I first saw the movie. I had no idea my one random runaway thought would turn into this. Also, this story would not have been finished if it weren't for @joelsgoldrush. She let me tease her for WEEKS with this and act as the ultimate sounding board. And she's overall just a delightful human being and I'm so glad I've found her.

The TVA agent sits staring at you, an odd and uncomfortable smile on his face. Like he isn’t quite sure he knows how to smile but had seen it once on TV.  You also don’t think he’s blinked in the past several minutes. It makes your eyes water just thinking about it. 

“I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“Ah, yes, well—“ the agent clears his throat and smoothes a hand down his chest. “You’re a threat to the multiverse.”

You squint your eyes at him and wonder if you’re lucid dreaming. Or trapped in some bizarre fever dream, but you can’t remember being sick. “The…multiverse? As in, more than one universe?”

He nods once. “Precisely.”

It’s your turn to stare as absolutely none of this is making sense. The morning had started off normal—wake up, shower, coffee at your favorite local corner store. You had barely finished your latte when you were apprehended and taken to this bland room by a man who must own insane stock in eyedrops. 

“You see, we’ve been watching you for quite some time,” he continues, oblivious of your growing confusion. “A handful of reincarnations, actually. And we believe we’ve finally pinned it down.”

His words sound insane. 

You were a low level mutant at best. You’ve been able to deeply sense and influence emotions in others since you were six—a standard empath if there ever was one. But reincarnation?

“Reincarnations? I’m sorry but—”

You feel it coming then, that all too familiar prickle of deja vu creeping up your spine and setting deep in your brain. The room begins to soften, the corners blurring and you feel disjointed, separate from the you sitting in the chair.

“Ah, see. We’ve pinned it down.”

The world tilts on its axis and your mind explodes into brilliance, the memories of hundreds of alternate versions of yourself firing down your synapses, leaving you as raw and exposed as a fresh wound. The pain is all consuming as you gasp for air and desperately try to quell the throbbing in your skull. 

Your hands grip the edge of the table, desperate to clutch at something solid to root you in reality as the kaleidoscope of memories swirl before your eyes, colliding and merging with one another. All the timelines converging down to a single point of existence within your mind. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve experienced this process, the return of your memories—the return of your consciousness—was always accompanied by a torturous sensory overload. 

“You see? You have extensive knowledge of the multiverse. And that kind of knowledge is coveted and dangerous.”

Your vision blurs as the memories keep slamming into you and you can’t help the primal scream that rips from your lungs, the pain in your throat a welcome distraction from the torture in your head. And then, amid the chaos, a single figure emerges in crisp focus, a face you’ve seen thousands of times.

“Logan.” His name comes out in a whisper, your voice trembling.

You know he’s not actually in front of you and instead a mirage, a figment of your overloaded neurons, but his presence calms you. 

“Yes, Logan. You two are quite fond of each other.” The agent stands and you squint up at him, wanting to be anywhere else as you regain your memories. “But never mind him. We can’t have you traipsing around with all that knowledge in your head.”

“No, no, no, please. Please just let me find him,” you beg, hating the desperation laced in your voice. 

The last thing you see before being sent out of existence is his creepy, uncanny smile. 

+++

The Void was bullshit. 

It had been a month since you were unceremoniously dumped here. 

Maybe. 

You weren’t really sure.  

Time had no meaning, each day seeming to stretch on for eons and simultaneously in the blink of an eye. And for every single one of those moments you’d been focused on one of two things: finding a way out and not dying. 

You quickly learned you had a better chance at survival if you stuck to the outskirts and avoided others. So you squirreled yourself away, sheltering in an abandoned cabin and hoping beyond hope you could figure out a way out of the desolate cesspool you found yourself in. 

Figure out a way back to him. 

Back home. 

+++

You don’t venture out unless you have to. 

The Void is full of phantom emotions left behind by its previous inhabitants and the cacophony overwhelms you. Rage, terror and despair so thickly envelope every surface you feel like you’re choking. It’s beginning to wear so harshly on your nerves you wonder if you might actually go insane here.

There was a tension growing in the Void. You’d heard whispers of unrest within the factions, Cassandra hungry for something to sink her teeth into. The undercurrent of rage has increased in the last couple of days and it’s enough to set your teeth on edge.

Stuffing a backpack with a few essentials in case you get stranded, you ready yourself for a supply run. The thought of leaving the perceived safety of your cabin has little appeal, but you’ve been putting it off for far too long. There was a small cache only a few miles from your cabin that other survivors kept stocked with extra provincials. You were hoping for something good, anything other can canned food or cereal. Or Spam. 

Tightening the straps on your backpack, you take one last glance around before stepping out into the forest. It’s eerily quiet, no birds or animals chattering to fill the silence, just the crunch of your shoes against fallen leaves. The Void has always felt oppressive to you, the air just a little too heavy, but there’s something lingering today that makes you feel on edge. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you pat your belt for the knife you’ve stashed there. 

Just in case. 

You’re half a mile away from the cache when you feel it—the inky slick of anger. It catches on the air and wafts towards you in waves. You slow your steps as you approach the road and come to a halt when the battered van comes into view. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. 

You’d recognize those claw marks anywhere. 

Your heart races as your eyes trace the deep, jagged cuts gouged into the metal and the large swathes of blood coating the ground and what you can see of the interior of the van. Instinctively your hand tightens around the hilt of your knife and you crouch down low behind a fallen log. You scan the area for any signs of movement and find none, but you know Logan is stealthier than you and wouldn’t give up his location willingly. 

The van door creaks open on its battered hinges and you inhale sharply as Logan stumbles out of the vehicle covered in dried blood and sweat and more knife wounds and bullet holes than you can count. 

The sight of him ignites a spark of longing that blooms in your chest and makes you physically ache. You can feel him. Your lips remember the hungered warmth of his mouth against yours, the way he’d nip at your bottom lip so you’d open up for him. Your skin remembers the calloused rasp of his hands and not just the greedy grabs when he needed to claim you, but the light brushes of his fingertips against your palm as he held your hand, just to remind himself that you were real. Your nose remembers his scent, woodsy and clean, like the earth after rain. 

Shaking your head, you push down the memories and peer back over the log. A slight breeze wafts through the air and you watch as he sniffs, his head turning in your direction. 

“Fuck,” you curse lowly, trying to crouch further out of eyesight. 

You hear the metallic snikt of his claws and your pulse quickens. There’s no point in hiding—he knows you’re there. You take a slow, steady breath before attempting to focus waves of calm in his direction, hoping to ease some of the anger wound around him. 

His eyes lock onto yours, sharp and predatory and he shakes his head, trying to keep you out. “Who the fuck’re you?” 

You draw back your power and raise your hands in surrender as you slowly rise to your feet. You toss out your name and silently hope for a spark of recognition. But he doesn’t know you. Not yet. 

“It’s not safe out here alone,” you start, moving out of your hiding place. You walk towards him, his eyes following your every move. “There’s a cache just up ahead—” 

The atmosphere shifts without warning, the anger you’d felt previously now melting into thick, cloying fear and desperation. You can taste the ozone and the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as electricity sizzles across the sky. Glancing up, you see the dark, swirling mass of Alioth just beginning to form. 

You look at Logan, panic racing along your nerves. “I promise I’ll explain everything to you later, but I know you, Logan, and right now I need you to trust me.” 

Alioth’s presence is getting stronger and drawing closer, and every drop of tension and rage swirling within is beginning to weigh down on you, threatening to suffocate you. 

Logan’s eyes narrow, but there’s a slight twitch in his jaw and you know he’s considering your words. His claws retract, but his muscles remain tense, coiled and ready to attack. You grab for his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin and the hard muscle beneath your fingers. “We have to go. Now.”

For a moment, you think he might resist. But then with a low curse, he follows you, his stride matching yours as you lead him towards the cache. The trees blur by, the wind picking up and beginning to toss leaves and loose branches into the air. 

You’re operating on pure adrenaline and your heart pounds in your chest as you run, Alioth gaining speed and distance faster than either of you can move. Each gasp of air burns your lungs and your muscles ache with the effort of your sprint. 

Still a quarter of a mile away from the cache, you know you won’t be able to outrun Alioth. The storm has consumed the sky, the sun diminished to twilight, as the thunder and groans loom ever closer. You turn towards Logan and yell, “It’s too close, we’re not gonna make it!”

Logan’s eyes flash with anger as you stop and turn towards the oncoming destruction. He grabs for your wrist, pulling you almost nose to nose. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls, chest heaving with the effort to breathe. “We can’t stop!”

His proximity briefly disarms you, his fierce gaze igniting something deep within you, but you don’t have time to dwell on those emotions. You take a deep breath in an attempt to steady your nerves. “I’m gonna try and calm it down.”

“What are you going to do, think happy thoughts at it?” he asks, his tone biting and sarcastic. 

You know every cell in his body is begging to fight, aching to release his claws and tear Alioth apart with his bare hands. But this isn’t something brute strength can subdue. 

“Just trust me,” you plead, your eyes searching his for some indication that he believes you. “Please.”

His stare is hard, but eventually his eyes soften and he loosens his grip on your wrist. “Fine.”

Tearing your gaze from him, you turn back towards the storm, now a full blown maelstrom of anger and destruction hellbent on consuming you both whole. You exhale slowly, pushing your own emotions of fear and panic as far down as you can. Instead, you turn inward and concentrate on every feeling of peace, calm and stillness you’ve ever experienced and project it outwards. Waves of soothing energy pour from you, an almost ghostly aura emanating from you as your power continues to grow. Alioth continues to surge towards you, the wind now flattening trees to the ground and lifting debris high into the air. 

The fight is excruciating, every cell in your body shaking with effort as you continue to project outwards, the sphere of your influence growing. When the two opposing masses collide, you’re almost knocked off your feet by the force. You’re vaguely aware of Logan beside you, claws unsheathing as he steps closer into your protective shield. 

For a brief moment, you feel the power of the storm ebb before it seems to press into you harder. Your knees begin to buckle and your stance slips. “I…I don’t know if I can hold it!” you gasp. 

Logan doesn’t run but instead moves closer, giving you one solitary nod. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, feel the doubt swirling behind them and yet he stays besides you, ready to fight. 

His silent encouragement is enough. 

You are not dying in the fucking Void. 

Gritting your teeth, you continue to push. A guttural scream rips from your throat as black spots dot your vision and blood drips from your nose. You dig down, channeling every last drop of your energy into a final wave, extending yourself deep within the core of the storm. 

The black of the storm begins to retreat and the wind begins to calm. As the first few beams of sunlight filter in through the treetops, your vision fades completely and the world goes black. 

The last thing you feel is a pair of strong arms wrapping around you before your mind goes blissfully blank and unconsciousness claims you. 

+++

You wake up in the cache. 

Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming in through the broken windows. The light is soft, definitely not the early morning glow from before you left the comfort of your cabin and you wonder how long you were out. With a groan, you try to sit up. Your body is stiff, every muscle in your body aching with the effort you took to banish Alioth. Wincing, you swing your legs out of the makeshift bed, the effort taking your breath away and you can feel the sickly creep of nausea climb up your throat. 

A low voice cuts through the haze. “Take it easy.”

Logan. 

You blink, trying to adjust your eyes to the light and find him sitting on the floor, one leg pulled up to his chest as a bottle of whiskey hangs between his fingers. He takes a long pull and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“How long was I out?” you ask, your voice hoarse. 

Logan doesn’t answer immediately. He reaches over at a box beside him and then rolls a water bottle towards your feet before he finally mutters, “A day.” 

You accept the bottle with a nod of thanks. Taking a slow sip, you close your eyes as the liquid soothes your throat even as your body protests the movement. You’ve never used your powers to that degree before. Fuck, you didn’t even know you could. A perverse sense of pride licks at the edge of your exhaustion. 

Lowering the bottle, you breathe deeply in an attempt to settle the nausea rolling in the pit of your stomach. You glance at Logan and find him watching you, his eyes sharp, calculating. 

“You owe me some answers. You said you knew me.”

You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. After hundreds of encounters with different Logans, it was never easy explaining to him what you were. For a long time, you didn’t even have a name for it. All you knew was that your consciousness, all your memories, everything that you are moves across different universes and inevitably crosses paths with Logan. It always felt like an invisible string, guiding your soul to his. 

“I’m a temporal nomad.”

Logan’s eyes narrow as he glares at you. “A temporal what?” His tone is laced with skepticism. 

You take another sip of water, giving yourself time to gather your thoughts and push away the throbbing at your temples. “A temporal nomad. I don’t die, not in the way you think, anyway.”

Logan doesn’t move, but you see his grip tighten on the bottle in his hand, his knuckles going white. “You tellin’ me you’re immortal?”

“No, not immortal,” you reply, exhaling slowly. “When I die, my consciousness moves. I reincarnate in a different universe. Eventually I regain everything—my experiences, my memories, my feelings. It’s why—” you pause and take a deep, steadying breath. “It’s why I always find you.”

Your words hit their mark and Logan’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite decipher—shock, disbelief, maybe some anger. He sits up straighter, tipping the whiskey bottle to his lips without breaking eye contact. “You always find me?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. “We’ve met before?”

“I’ve lost count of how many time, actually,” you admit softly. “But in every reality, every universe, I find you. And we’re not just friends, Logan.”

Your words linger in the air between you and your heart pounds loudly in your chest. Logan stands suddenly, the now empty whiskey bottle clattering to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair before scrubbing it down his face, his jaw clenched as he paces within the small space. A mirthless chuckle escapes his lips. “This smells like bullshit, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at his use of the word sweetheart. It’s one he’s always preferred for you, usually spoken with reverence, like a prayer falling from his lips. Except now it’s casual and cold, something with a sharp edge instead of softness. 

“I know how crazy it sounds. Believe me, Logan, it took me several lifetimes to wrap my mind around it.” You stand, your legs wobbly with the effort and you wince against the pull in your spent muscles. “But I know you.”

His expression hardens. “Yeah? Well, I don’t know you. And if you really knew me, you’d know to stay the fuck away from people like me.” Logan’s pacing grows more hurried, his hands clenching into fists. 

“I can’t,” you say softly, taking a tentative step closer towards him. “And I don’t want to. While I might not know the Logan in front of me or the nuances that make you different from the others, I know you.”

His nostrils flare and he lets out a low growl. “Stop.”

“I know the way you fight,” you continue, ignoring his warning. “I know the way you carry your pain as if no one else can possibly shoulder that weight. I know—”

“Stop!”

“—how you push people away to protect them, but that deep down you hope someone will push back. You may carry a lot of self loathing, Logan, but even you know you’re not heartless.” 

Logan’s fist slams into the wall behind him, the sound reverberating in the small room. He stands there, chest heaving, his knuckles bleeding from where they made contact with the rough wooden planks. You watch as the raw skin knits itself back together, his head hanging low. 

His jaw clenches as he wipes the blood from his hands, his breathing still ragged and posture rigid, itching for a fight. He glances over at you, his expression softer but still rough. 

“We’re done here,” he growls, but his voice soft, more broken than angry. 

Logan turns without another word and all you can do is watch him leave.

+++

You spend the rest of the morning dozing in bursts of fitful sleep, your confrontation with Logan taking its emotional toll. Your eyes burn with unshed tears and for the first time in your life, you feel as if you’re destined to wander this universe alone. 

But you can’t think about it. 

Not now. 

Ignoring the ache in your limbs, you pack up what supplies you can and ready yourself for the walk back to your cabin. The sun is a couple of hours from setting, the world bathed in golden light, when you set out. Walking down the steps, you pause at the distant crunch of boots on the gravel. You feel your pulse thrum in your chest as the sound gets closer and then he steps into view, his eyes locking onto yours. 

Logan. 

The sight of him standing there fills you with a rush of conflicting emotions. Relief, angry, anxiety and you’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak first. He looks the same—tired, disheveled, but steady and strong all the same. Neither of you moves, unspoken words hanging between you.

“I shouldn’t’ve left,” he says finally. 

For a moment you say nothing. Because it’s exactly what you want to hear from him. Except, because you’re beyond exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, you say, “No, you fucking shouldn’t have.” 

There’s definitely more bite in your tone than you intended, but the release of some of your pent up anger feels so good you can’t bring yourself to care. 

Logan’s eyes narrow as you move past him and keep walking. “Wait, so I come back here to apologize,” he begins, following close behind you, “and now you’re gonna just walk away?”

“You know, you never even thanked me for saving your ass,” you say, side stepping a downed log. “Just started demanding answers and then tucked tail and ran when you didn’t like what I had to say.”

He grabs your wrist and you stumble into his grasp, your breath hitching in your throat as you stand almost chest to chest. “I didn’t fucking ask for any of this!”

His anger bleeds into you, curling around your skin where his fingers press into your pulse point. You feel your nostrils flare and you’re itching for something to hit as you stare up at him, his jaw clenched. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest and you know you need to reign in your emotions or you’ll ignite the fuse between you. 

“You think I did?” you ask, pulling your arm from his grasp. Your voice is calmer, but just as sharp. “You think I want to relive the grief of mourning you over and over while also finding something new to love about you? You think I wanted to be banished to the Void all because my soul just can’t die when I do?”

Logan’s expression softens and he scrubs a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look. I’ve had a shitty coupla days here. And you’re saying a lot of shit I don’t understand.”

He seems weary, then, and any remaining anger you harbor towards him dies in your veins. You take a deep breath in and blow it out slowly. “You don’t have to understand right now. Just—just trust me. Please?”

You hate how your voice breaks just a little.

Logan nods then, the barest tilt of his head, but it’s enough.

He continues to follow you through the woods back towards the cabin and for a while neither of you speak. It should feel awkward, especially now, but it doesn’t. You’re so used to his brand of stubbornness and reluctance to see what’s right in his face that this is the most at home you’ve felt since you got here. 

“So,” you start after a few minutes of silence, “how did you end up here?”

Logan huffs. “Some asshole in red spandex dragged me here and I said I need to help save his universe.”

“And can you?”

His step falters and you pause to look a him, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the trees. “I couldn’t save mine.” The weight of his words linger, heavy with a burden only he alone has been shouldering. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he brushes past you and keeps walking. 

“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, catching up with him.

Logan growls. “No.”

“Alright, maybe later then,” you reply and he simply ignores you and keeps on walking. “Where’s this asshole friend of yours?”

“I left him tied up in the van.”

You had long passed the spot where you found Logan by the beat up van and the road was deserted. Based on the subtle smirk on his face, you figure Logan already knows that. Whatever his relationship is with the stranger, he seems somewhat happy to be rid of him and you don’t push him further. Although, you can’t help but wonder what happened to the van and whose hands it fell into. 

Logan’s gait slows as the cabin comes into view through the trees. He follows behind you as you clear the space, checking for any stragglers that may have come along while you were gone. Pushing open the door, you watch as he looks around, taking in the small space. 

“You’ve been living here?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it living, but sure,” you comment, throwing your backpack on the table as you sit down. You can’t help the groan that escapes your lips as your muscles relax. “You can stay here if you want. I didn’t just let you follow me for your sparkling personality, you know.”

Logan actually laughs at that as he sits down on the small couch. His face lightens up, eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners, and for the first time since you found him, he seems unburdened. A blossom of hope grows in your chest and you grasp onto it, holding tight to the one bit of light you’ve had in this month of darkness. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

You know he means for more than the offer to stay and you return his smile with one of your own. “You’re welcome.”

As the sun starts to dip below the horizon, you bring out some extra blankets and a couple of pillows and help Logan turn the couch into a makeshift bed. You turn to leave when you hear him ask, “You really find me in every universe?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds terrible.”

You give him a small smile as you lean against the doorframe to the bedroom. “Oh, it’s not all that bad. I get to fall in love with you all over again.”

+++

You wake in the middle of the night to the sound of low, panicked growls coming from across the room.

You quietly slip from the bed and tiptoe towards the couch. Logan writhes beneath the sheets, pain etched across his face as he wrestles the demons in his sleeping mind. Taking a deep breath, you center yourself and focus every fiber of your power in his direction, hoping the waves of calm can break through whatever battle he’s fighting deep in the recesses of his mind.

Logan growls deep in his throat, the sound guttural and raw, his claws unsheathing and tearing at the sheets beneath him in agitation. A fine sheen of sweat beads along his brow and pieces of hair are plastered against his damp forehead.

“Logan,” you say softly, trying to break through the fog of his nightmare. “You’re safe, Logan.”

Your powers are waning, the stress of fighting off Alioth having left you depleted. You push down the ache, the tug in your brain demanding that you draw back, and instead kneel down in front of him, trailing your fingers across his palm and over the pulse point in his wrist. He jerks at your touch, his claws coming close to your skin, but the contact is enough and you feel his pulse slow beneath your fingertips.

You continue to speak in hushed tones, your voice barely above a whisper. “There you go, Logan. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Logan’s breathing is ragged, his eyes squeezed shut. You can feel the tension in his body, his muscles rigid with the need for release. You keep your fingers against his wrist, your touch steady and calming, as you bring up your other hand to smooth the lines along his brow.

“There you go,” you continue to murmur, “Focus on my voice. Focus on my calm.”

Gradually, his growls subside and his breathing begins to even out as the nightmare loses its grip over him. His muscles lose their tension and relax and the frantic movements of his limbs subsides. With one final deep breath, he stills, his claws retracting and he settles back into a peaceful sleep.

You sit and watch him for a minute, taking in all of his features and simply admiring him for the first time since your last life with him. This Logan is different—they all are in their own way—but this one a little more than the others. He seems wearier, more worn down, his usual scowl lines etched deep. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, too, you haven’t seen before and you wonder if this Logan actually ever rests. 

As you stand, you feel his fingers circle loosely around your wrist and give a small tug. You look down to where he’s touching you, his skin hot against yours, and you glance up to find him staring at you through half lidded eyes. 

“Stay.” It comes out in a low whisper and as you open your mouth to protest, he adds, “Please.”

You could never deny him in any universe.

The couch is barely wider than he is, yet he shifts to make a sliver of space for you to slot yourself into. It should be awkward, the way you press yourself between the couch and the solid warmth of his frame, but it’s not. You hitch your leg over his hip, forcing your legs to tangle, as you rest your head against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and comforting beneath your ear and you find yourself quickly relaxing into his touch.

As you fall asleep, you feel his arm curl around you, tucking protectively against your ribs.

+++

When morning breaks, you’re alone. The warmth of his body is gone and you find yourself shivering. Pushing to sit, you wrap a blanket around yourself before standing up. 

The cabin is empty.

You try and ignore the sliver of panic that threatens to slip its way down your spine. 

Opening the front door, you pause when you find him sitting on the dilapidated porch, staring absently out at the trees. He glances up at you and watches as you sit down beside him. You hug the blanket closer around your shoulders and sit with him in silence.

You don’t mention last night.

“So,” you start, “what’s the plan?”

Logan raises his eyebrow. “You planning on stickin’ with me?”

“If you let me,” you reply with a smile.

You listen as Logan explains the events of the past couple of days, including Wade’s abduction of him from his own universe and how they both became to be bloodied and battered in the van. Your ears perk up when he mentions Paradox and returning to Wade’s universe. 

“You think he can actually get back?” you ask, willing yourself to not hold onto too much hope. 

Logan huffs. “Probably not.” 

“And yet you’re out here trying to think of a way to find him,” you say. “Why?”

A frown tugs at Logan’s mouth and he looks down at his hands. Eventually, he reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out a crumpled Polaroid. He tilts it towards you and you look down at the group or smiling people. “He’s got something to go home to,” he says, thumbing the edge of the photo. “I got nothin’.”

There’s something soft in his gaze as he looks down at the photo, some lingering hope he’s too afraid to put words to. 

“I’m sure you have something, Logan,” you say quietly. 

His expression hardens then, jaw tightening, as he slips the photo back in his pocket. “Had. Past tense.” Logan stands then and looks down at you. “Get ready. We’re leaving in five.” 

+++

You get ready quickly, changing your clothes and splashing water on your face before making sure your pack was sufficiently stocked. You were hoping you wouldn’t be needing it for much longer, but you didn’t want to express that thought out loud. Despite Logan wishing to go back to find Wade, you knew he wasn’t convinced this would end well.

Logan’s already started down the path as you jog down the cabin steps, swinging your pack up onto your shoulders. Catching up with him, you hand him the Pop-Tart you pulled out earlier. “Breakfast? They’re unfrosted, because this is the Void, but it’s something.”

He looks down at you, a strange expression on his face, but he accepts your offer. “Thanks,” he says, taking a bite.

“So, where exactly were you headed when you both decided to maul each other silly?” you ask, keeping pace with him as you walk through the woods.

“Johnny had mentioned a resistance out in the Borderlands,” Logan answers, swallowing the bite of Pop-Tart. “Figured we might find some people who could help us get control over Cassandra.” 

You nod. “You’re not far from the Borderlands. Maybe four or so miles from he cache. I haven’t ventured out that far, but I’ve heard there’s a few outposts where others have hunkered down.”

“Then that’s where we go.”

You walk in comfortable silence, leaving Logan to his thoughts as you travel further away from safety and into the unknown. You stop at the cache briefly, pausing only snag a few water bottles before moving on. 

A couple of miles past the cache, Logan suddenly stops, sniffing the air. His posture goes rigid, on alert as he slowly moves forward, beckoning you to follow him. A few yards away, the beat up van comes into view, parked alongside a lodging that looks as if it was built into the very earth itself. 

Logan’s arm darts out, stopping you. “Stay close,” he commands quietly, stepping cautiously closer towards the structure.

You follow behind him, every sense on alert as you step inside. The place is quiet, but then you hear it—the soft rustle of snoring. And then Logan’s soft, “Ah, fuck me.”

Peering over his shoulder, you find a sleeping Wade spread eagle on the bed. Logan side steps the bed, ignoring the sleeping man, and begins rummaging through the place. Finding a bottle of whiskey, he groans in delight, twisting the cap off and taking a long pull. 

“Really Logan?”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “What else would you like me to be doing?” he asks, biting. 

“You came all this way to find him and now you’re gonna just drink?” you ask in disbelief. It gnaws at you, his indifference. You can feel little frissons of indignation licking at your skin and you have to tamp down your emotions before they bleed into him. 

Logan shrugs. “He’s asleep. I ain’t draggin’ him anywhere.”

You cross your arms, glaring at Logan in frustration. “I didn’t follow you here to watch you stand around and get drunk. Wake him up.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, his brow furrowing. You don’t relent, your stare pointed as he takes another long pull from the bottle. Muttering to himself, Logan makes his way over to the bed and gives it one swift, forceful kick. 

Wade jolts awake with a loud, exaggerated snort. He looks between you and Logan, his eyes finally settling on you. “Who’re you?” he asks, looking around as if expecting an answer. “When did the script get rewritten?”

You look at him quizzically, your eyebrow raised. “Who are you talking to?”

Wade huffs. “The audience,“ he says, gesturing towards the wall.

“Does he do this often?” you ask Logan in a whisper.

“Hasn’t stopped since he fucking dragged me here,” Logan replies. 

Your attention is diverted as Wade suddenly rolls from he bed, crossing the room and two large strides. He unsheathes one of his katanas, pressing himself against the wall and then he’s pinned on the ground as a woman pulls a blade of her own. After a moment, she lets Wade up and two more people follow into the room behind her. 

Logan eyes each one with suspicion as introductions are made and you can feel the tension growing within him as he continues to drink.

You jump as Gambit uses one of his playing cards to burst the bottle of whiskey in Logan’s hands. Logan ignores your pleading look and Wade’s admonishment as he grabs another bottle with a soft, “Boo boo boo.”

When Laura enters, you feel Logan’s interest pique, something heavy weighing on him. They both look towards one another, taking each other in and you don’t miss the recognition in Laura’s eyes.

“Do you know her?” you ask Logan, sliding closer to him.

Logan shakes his head. “No. But Wade’s Logan does.” He takes another long drink from the bottle, eyes still trained on her.

Wade continues to talk with the group, recapping their time in the Void and how they managed to escape Cassandra’s lair. Logan punctuates the conversation with vitriolic quips of his own, drinking more as Wade tries to get the group to form a team.

You try to send your power Logan’s way, trying to bleed into him some calm, but he shakes his shoulders and brushes you off. “Don’t fucking bother, sweetheart.”

“I can help you, Logan.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for it.”

As Wade rallies the group into a cohesive unit, gaining their support in taking down Cassandra, Logan huffs a bitter laugh. “You’re all fucking dead.”

“Oh, my god, read the room,” Wade chides. 

+++

Logan storms off, one bottle of whiskey fisted in each hand. You want to follow after him, but Wade stops you. “Let him go, cupcake. Peanut’s in a fragile state and you’re too pretty to become mincemeat.”

You shoot a glare at him and brush his hand away from your shoulder. “No, he only seems to sink his claws into you,” you bite back, but the anger leeches from your voice. 

“Spicy,” Wade comments, “I like you. The script editor worked overtime on you, I can tell.”

“Yeah, well the jury’s still out over here,” you say, but you can’t help the twitch of a smile tugging at your lips. 

You glance over at the door and feel Wade sidle up beside you. “Seriously, cupcake. Chasing after him is like trying to catch a raccoon with rabies. Might be fun, but it’s not worth the bite.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, peering over at him, “And how long have you known him?”

Wade pretends to look down at his wrist and taps a non-existent watch. “Four days, six hours and thirty-two minutes,” he says with a smirk, “but I don’t really like to put a timestamp on friendship."

With a groan, you plop down on the bed and rub at your temples. “Is everything a joke with you?”

“Mostly,” he chirps with a grin. He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms as he watches you. “But I have been known to press pause occasionally.” Wade regards you for a moment, a slight tilt to his head. “Honey badger does it for you, huh?”

Sighing, you lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I have followed Logan through millennia, Wade. I can’t remember a time anymore where I haven’t loved him.”

“His mutant dick that good, huh?”

You half laugh, half snort and shoot him a pointed look. “Not everything is about sex, Wade.”

“Agree to disagree,” he says with a shrug. “We’ve all got emotional baggage, mine is definitely over the free to fly limit, but that guy? Literal mountains. Centuries worth, even.”

“Exactly,” you say, sitting up. “I’ve helped him carry more than you can imagine. Logan may push people away, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need someone to stay.”

Wade cocks his head, considering your words and his expression softens. “You know running after him isn’t going to fix him.”

“I’m not trying to fix him,” you reply. “He just needs to know someone is there for him.” 

“Well, it’s your funeral, cupcake,” he says with a sigh. “I promise I’ll give a really moving eulogy. But, I do think if anyone is gonna convince tall, dark and brooding out there to join us, it’s you.”

You give him a soft smile as you stand. “Thanks, Wade.”

“And just so you know,” he calls after you, “I’m open and willing to being your mutant dick rebound.”

You roll your eyes and walk out the door.

+++

You step outside and see Logan sitting by himself in front of a fire not too far from the lodging. Walking quietly, you stop when you see Laura approach him and sit along side him. You’re close enough that you can hear their words—hear Logan tell her about the suit, about how he found the X-Men, his friends, dead. 

The anger, the loathing, this Logan carries comes into focus and you can’t help but wonder how long he’s lived with this weight upon his shoulders. Suffering alone with only the bottom of a bottle to quiet the thoughts that scream in his mind.

As Laura eventually leaves, she catches your eye and gives you a small nod.

You feel a strange kinship with her. She too has memories of a Logan who no longer exists and who is radically different from the one she has now. You wonder what she’s thinking and have half a mind to follow after her when you hear Logan call out, “I know you’re there.”

You turn back towards where he remains sitting in front of the fire, the whiskey bottle now more than half gone. Closing the gap between you, you sit down alongside him and watch as he continues to stare down into the fading fire.

“How much did you hear?” he asks, taking a large swig from the bottle. 

“Enough,” you answer simply.

Logan grunts and takes a long pull from the bottle, his lips glistening as his swallows get sloppy. “Well, now you know. I’m the worst Logan,” he almost spits, his tone dark and bitter. “You drew the short straw with me, sweetheart.”

“You know I don’t think that,” you say softly. 

Logan doesn’t respond and instead finishes the rest of the whiskey, tossing the bottle somewhere behind him. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he looks over at you. “You actually gonna join them tomorrow?”

“Are you?”

“It’s a fucking suicide mission,” he answers. “You want to walk up to your death, be my guest.”

“If you’re so convinced this is a suicide mission, why don’t you want to go?” you counter, his ire beginning to bleed into the space between you and creep uncomfortably along your skin. “You afraid you might come face to face with actual death and realize that’s not really what you want?” 

Logan’s gaze flicks up to your face, his eyes dark, dangerous. “You’re fucking pushin’ it.”

“Good! Someone fucking should be!” you exclaim, standing from the fallen log. Maybe Wade was right—maybe this was futile. In every universe Logan could be a stubborn ass, but this one was particularly obstinate. “Do you really believe you’re so unredeemable, Logan? That you’re just a vile mutant who doesn’t deserve sympathy after his friends were brutally murdered?”

You can feel his rage boiling just under the surface of the thin veneer of calm. His eyes pierce into you, pinning you in place as he stands to his full height, his fists clenched tightly. 

“You don’t know shit about me, sweetheart,” he growls. 

Anger simmers in your veins, threatening to burn you from the inside out. “Oh fuck you, Logan.”

He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me sinking into your cunt while you picture whatever version of me you think I am.” His voice is a low rumble, adding to the tension threatening to suffocate you. 

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, and it isn’t desire that courses through you, but rage. Your skin prickles and his vitriol ignites something deep within you, something hotter and brighter than you’ve ever felt before. 

“After all this time and everything I’ve told you, you honestly believe that’s all I want from you? You’re a fucking pathetic asshole,” you snap, your voice sharp and laced with venom. 

Logan’s expression darkens, the smirk slipping from his face as his jaw clenches. “You got some balls sayin’ that shit to me,” he spits. 

A small part of you is terrified of him, afraid that he might actually snap. Might actually unsheathe his claws and send you onto your next life without ever having truly lived this one. But you know him, you know him. His pain and rage isn’t towards you, but himself. 

You risk a step closer to him, narrowing the space between you and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, mingling with your own fury. “Yeah, well at least one of us has a pair.”

Logan doesn’t have time to react before you channel your powers towards him, unleashing an explosive burst of energy that sends him staggering back. And then you smother him, smother him in thousands of years of memories, thousands of years of every single feeling you had ever felt for him in every universe you’ve known him. 

The weight of your emotional onslaught brings him to his knees, but you keep pushing, switching from your feelings for him to his feelings for you. All the affection, all the love, all the comfort the two of you shared in every version of your coupling across space and time floods his mind. 

You watch as his expression melts from anger into one of overwhelming vulnerability and pain. His hands, still clenched into fists, tremble beneath the weight of your power surging through him. He looks up at you then, his eyes pleading and your resolve breaks. Tears burn in your eyes and trail down your cheeks, wetting your lips as a scream rips from your lungs.  

Your hold on Logan dissipates as you reign your emotions back under control. You stagger on your feet as your power diminishes, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and broken sobs. You can’t look at him, not yet. If you do, you might actually break. So you do something that you never thought you would do—you leave.

+++

Night in the Void is cool, almost bordering on uncomfortable like everything else in this godforsaken place, but for once it doesn’t bother you. You gaze up at the sky, the haze of distant stars and planets blurring together the more you try and focus on just one. 

You’ve always loved looking at the stars. There was a comfort in knowing you could look up at the sky and see the same constellations in every universe, that there was always one constant among all the variables. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting before you hear the crunch of his boots on the earth, dried leaves and twigs snapping under his heel. Logan joins you on the ground, sitting with a heavy sigh. The maelstrom of emotions swirling within him bleeds into the space between you and you can feel it, thick and heavy and suffocating. 

You risk a glance at him and he looks…defeated. His eyes are red-rimmed and raw and you see something in those hazel eyes you rarely see—fear. Not fear at you, although your guilt would rather have you believe that, but fear of himself, fear of feeling what you’ve shown him. Logan’s breath is slow, controlled, but you can hear the slight tremor in it. 

“I promised myself I would never use my powers on you” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know what it feels like to experience that onslaught. It feels like drowning.” Your voice cracks and you fight to keep the guilt burning in your chest from consuming you whole. “And that was just a fraction of what we’ve felt across lifetimes, Logan.” 

Logan stays silent but gazes at your face, eyes flicking across your features, drinking you in. The scrutiny makes you shiver. Before you isn’t The Wolverine, the X-Man people in his universe loathe, but a man left raw and vulnerable. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says slowly, his voice rough as the words are pulled from him. “You shouldn’t have shown me that.”

You flinch, the weight of his words are a punch to your gut. “I know,” you whisper, wiping tears from your eyes. “I know and I’m sorry, I—”

Logan cuts you off with a shake of his head, his eyes now locked onto yours. “I already knew, sweetheart,”he murmurs, his voice low. “You feel like—you feel like home.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest and for a moment you can’t breathe. The words hang between you, heavy and raw, the sound of them something you’ve been craving to hear. 

“I am your home,” you reply softly. 

Logan shifts beside you, closing the space between you as he slips his hand behind your neck and pulls you in. His mouth crashes to yours, his kiss urgent, rough and desperate. 

You reach for him, gripping his shoulders as you kiss him back, the Void slipping away. There’s only the heat of his mouth, the rough scrape of his beard against your skin, the way his other hand tugs at your waist in an attempt to pull you closer. 

It’s messy and intense and you don’t want it to end. Logan kisses you like a man starved, like you’re his last breath of air. 

A whimper falls from your lips as he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You’re both breathless, his nose softly nudging yours. 

“Please come with us tomorrow,” you whisper against his skin. “Let me take you home.”

He nods once and that’s all you need. 

+++

The morning comes quicker than anyone would like. 

Nervous energy bleeds through the group, everyone knowing they’re on the precipice of life or death, that this may be the last day they ever inhale air into their lungs or feel the warmth of the sun on their skin.

Logan’s quiet, already tucking into Gambit’s liquor, as you sit down beside him. He looks down at you briefly, taking a long long pull before offering you the bottle. You take it from him and take a swig of your own, the amber liquid burning a path down your throat. 

“What are you thinking?” you ask, handing him back the bottle.

He stares down at his feet, swirling the liquid around in the glass. “I honestly don’t even fuckin’ know.”

You reach for his hand and give him a comforting squeeze. He stares down at you for a moment and then drags his gaze up to your face. “Whatever happens Logan, I’ll be right there with you.”

Final preparations complete, everyone piles into the van, you tucking alongside Logan in the hatchback. The ride is mostly quiet, punctuated only with the few occasional quips by Wade just to ease the tension. You brace yourself, gripping Logan’s calf as Blade sends a rocket launcher through Cassandra’s front gate and Elektra floors it through the explosion. 

The others leave the van first, forming a line of defense. You look up at Logan and lean forward to press the faintest of kisses against his lips. His fingers curl around your neck and pull you closer, deepening it just enough to taste your mouth. 

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, pulling back. “Stay by me.”

You swallow hard, loathe to let him go, wanting to stay in the perceived safety of the van, but you simply nod and follow him to join the others.

Fighting erupts all around you and you stick as close to Logan’s back as you can. It’s a symphony of chaos—rage, fear and determination all swirling heavily in the air. You feel your power thrum underneath your fingertips as you channel those emotions back towards whoever Logan is fighting, hoping to disarm them—even if temporarily—with their own vitriol in an attempt to give him an advantage. 

The air burns in your lungs as you move through the fight, your mind spinning as you gain distance towards Cassandra’s lair. You can see the others move around you—Elektra and Blade slicing down enemies with their blades; Gambit disarming others with his explosively charged playing cards; Laura fighting in a style all her own, yet so much like Logan’s; and Wade cutting down others like he’s having fun.

A clear path opens up to the ramp leading up to Cassandra and the others swarm behind you, allowing yourself, Wade and Logan to break free from the melee. Logan looks back at you just long enough for you to see the fear in his eyes. You try and remain stoic, even though your mind is racing with all he the ways this could go wrong, and give him a small nod of encouragement. 

You stop short in front of Cassandra as she sits sipping tea, seemingly disinterested in the battle happening just outside her stronghold. “You two escaping I could live with, but coming back willingly…” she trails off, “Boys are so silly.” Her eyes dart towards you. “And you brought a friend!”

“I just need to get home,” Wade says, his tone serious. 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”

Cassandra flicks Wade aside effortlessly and Logan’s instantly on alert, claws extended at his side. You attempt to direct your powers at her, trying to defuse the anger simmering below her surface. She rolls her neck and glances at you, intrigue in her eyes. 

“Oh, aren’t you interesting,” she says, effortlessly flicking your powers aside. “I wonder what treats you have hiding in that mind of yours.”

Cassandra steps closer to you, her calculating stare flicking over your face. She lifts one hand up to you and from behind her, Logan growls and moves to attack. You watch, powerless, as she pins Logan to the ground with his own claws. 

She tsks and looks down at him, “That’s enough out of you.”

And then, she’s in your mind, every nerve ending in your body on fire, ready to consume you whole. 

You’re standing in a library, Cassandra at your side. Shelves extend as far as the eye can see, fading into an infinite distance. You walk aimlessly along the shelves, pausing at the entrance of a room simply titled “Logan”. 

“Oh, now this is something,” you hear Cassandra say from beside you. “This is quite the collection you have.”

Your fingers reach out and touch the spines, the briefest flickers of memories emanating from their covers. “I’ve known him for so long,” you murmur. “Been with him through so much.”

You pause in front of one book, the urge to open it nearly overwhelming. Pulling it from the shelf, the pages flutter open and you gasp, the memories of that life flooding your brain. 

You and Logan were married in this life. He worked a simple job, construction. There were no X-men, no missions, no danger. He kept his mutation a secret, showing only you when the memories got too rough, too unmanageable. You were his anchor. You had two kids—girls. And oh, how he loved them. Both of them wrapped effortlessly around his heart from before they were even born.

Tears spring to your eyes as the warmth of those memories flood through you. “I loved that life,” you whisper, putting the book back on the shelf.

“And who wouldn’t?” Cassandra agrees, placing her hand on your shoulder. “So effortless his love for you. So different from now.”

You glance over at her, confusion drawn on your face. False empathy tugs at Cassandra’s sympathetic smile. “Are you even sure he cares for you now? This Logan is so broken, more broken and unloveable than all these other Logans, hm?”

Shaking your head, you try to resist her efforts to batter you, to convince you your soul’s purpose is not worth it. Not worth him. “That’s not true. They’re all worthy. All capable and deserving of love,” you say, your fingers trailing along another spine. “Even this one. Especially this one.”

Cassandra’s face contorts then and…

She’s wrenched from your mind and you fall to your knees, blinking up as you see Wade holding Cassandra from behind, one hand holding Jaggernaut’s helmet to her head. 

Your mind still spins as Logan and Wade confront her, their conversation a jumble in your mind. But you don’t miss her saying either they kill her, or she kills them. Finding the strength to stand, you rise and place your hand on Wade’s arm.

“If I stay,” you start, focusing only on Cassandra and ignoring the press of Logan’s gaze into your skin, “Will you let them go?”

Logan reaches for you and you pull your gaze from Cassandra long enough to press your palm against this chest. You meet his eyes, silently pleading with him to let you continue. 

“Will you?” you repeat, unable to keep the pleading out of your tone.

Cassandra laughs bitterly. “You love him that much? To sacrifice yourself to save him? That Logan, out of all of them?”

You nod, feeling the tears burn in your eyes. “I love him that much,” you reply softly.

Logan grabs your hand then, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t,” he chokes out, voice thick with unspoken emotion, “Don’t do this.”

You smile softly as you reach up and cup his cheek, his beard rough against your palm. You don’t miss the way he briefly nuzzles into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he sighs. “I love you, Logan. In all my lives, in this one and in the next one, too.” The first tear slips down your cheek as you look up at him. “I promise I’ll find you again, Logan. I always do.”

You press a kiss to his mouth, soft and gentle. It lingers for a moment, a desperate, bittersweet exchange as Logan tries to memorize the feel of you. His hands grip your waist, clutching almost hard enough to bruise, but you relish the pain. 

Wade stands beside you both, uncharacteristically silent, his hands still holding Cassandra in place. His usual banter is gone, the weight of the moment not lost on him. “This is the worst fucking idea anyone has ever had,” he mutters, but his tone is soft. “And I’ve had some pretty terrible ideas.”

Cassandra regards you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “If I let them go, you’ll stay here with me in the Void. Be my ally.”

You nod, “Yes.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrow, calculating, weighing her options. Finally she sighs, “Fine. But you know…no one will remember this little sacrifice of yours. The next Logan won’t even know you.”

Logan growls and you squeeze his hand in gentle reassurance. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice finally breaking. “I’ll remember enough for the both of us.”

You step away from Logan, your heart shattering with every step. Wade lets go of Cassandra and you feel the weight of your decision settle heavily against your shoulders. 

Cassandra pulls something from her pocket, slipping it onto her fingers. Before you, a portal opens up, just outside the boundaries of the room. Outside, the raging storm that is Alioth grows near and in that moment, you realize Cassandra was playing a game of her own.

“I figure,” she says, straightening the lapels of her jacket, “that they have approximately four seconds before they’re through.”

Your eyes flick to Logan and you memorize every detail, every emotion written across his face. With one final nod, he tears his gaze from you and he runs towards the portal, Wade alongside him.

And then, darkness consumes all.

+++

You’re unsure how long you’ve been out. The last thing you remember was Alioth screaming towards you, giving you barely enough time to cocoon yourself from his rage.

Cassandra is gone.

Wade is gone.

And Logan—Logan is gone.

You open your eyes and find Remy standing above you. He offers you his hand and helps you to stand. “C’mon, chère,” he says, nodding towards the open portal behind him, “Let’s go home.”

You’re not sure where home is any more, not without Logan, but you don’t have the strength to argue. From the moment you wound up here in the Void, you’ve been looking for a way out. Now that you have one, you know you need to take it. 

Accepting Remy’s hand, you join him through the portal.

You stumble into a familiar room and are greeted warmly by a smiling TVA agent. She’s unlike the first TVA agent you met, her presence comforting as she says your name. “We heard you’ve had quite the adventure.” She looks over towards Remy. “Mr. LeBeau, if you’ll follow this agent here.”

Remy leaves with he other agent, turning towards you with a wink. “Enjoy your man for me, yeah?”

Your heart flutters in your chest and you look towards the agent, trying to suppress the hope you feel in your chest. She smiles and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. From her pocket she pulls out a small device, pressing a few buttons on the pad. Before you a different portal opens and she gestures towards it.

“Welcome home.”

+++

You stand in front of the apartment door and hesitate before knocking. Your nerves flutter uncomfortably in your belly even though it’s been less than two days since you last saw Logan in the Void. But you’re out now—you both are—and the fear nags at you that maybe this isn’t what he wants. That you aren’t what he wants. 

You stuff that thought down with a shake of your head. Raising your hand, you rap against the door three times and let out a shaky breath. When he opens the door, you feel as if the air has left your lungs and you forget to breathe. Your heart aches at the sight of him. 

Logan stops short, his face falling into one of pure disbelief and all he can do is stare at you.

“Is that my stripper?” you hear Wade call from farther into the apartment. Logan continues to stare at you as Wade pops up behind him, his face lighting up in surprise. “Oh, hey cupcake! Didn’t expect to—“

“Get out,” Logan growls, turning his head slightly in Wade’s direction, his eyes never leaving yours. 

From over Logan’s shoulder, Wade wiggles his eyebrows. “Ah, looking for some afternoon delight?” he coos, slinging his arm over Logan’s shoulder and patting his chest. “This guy has been jerkin’ it constan—“

You hear the sknit of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe into Wade’s thighs. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!” Wade curses. “You’re supposed to be penetrating her, not me!”

“Get. Out,” Logan repeats, retracting his claws. 

“Fine.” Wade pushes past Logan’s frame, limping slightly as his wounds heal themselves. “You’re lucky Blind Al’s already out playing Bingo. Or selling herself for blow. I don’t actually know her schedule,” he comments as he walks down the hallway. “Glad you’re home, cupcake.”

Logan barely waits until Wade is out of sight before tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling you towards him. Your gasp dies on your lips as he drags you inside, shutting the door with his foot and pushing you up against the rough wood. Then his mouth is on yours and it’s warm and wet and wonderful. 

His hands cup your face, fingers moving to tangle in your hair and you feel him everywhere. You whine as he nips lightly at your chin before trailing his lips back up your jaw, licking into your mouth as he kisses you deep. 

Your fingers scramble for purchase, fisting themselves into the fabric of his button-down flannel. 

There’s a desperation and urgency bleeding from him, as if he can’t drink you in fast enough, or hard enough, or long enough to satiate the longing that’s within him. And you’re feeling it too, an ache growing deeper in your belly, a need to be consumed by him fully and you whine into his mouth because he’s not nearly close enough to you.

A thigh slips between your legs as he kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, a moan falling from your lips as you greedily seek friction. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Logan husks against your shoulder, pulling your hips harder against his clothed thigh. 

Your hands cup the sides of his face, your fingers scratching lightly against his beard. You force him to look at you, his pupils blown wide. “I always come to you,” you say softly. “I always come home.”

He kisses you softly then, his mouth slow over yours and he drops his thigh from between your leg. You whine at the loss and he pulls back. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you further into he apartment. “I’m not fucking you for the first time against a door.”

You follow him to the bedroom, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and you can feel the prickle of anticipation along your spine as he turns back to look at you. His eyes never leave yours as he shrugs off the flannel and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Your eyes trace the lines of his chest, the strong definition of his muscles, following the line of hair that leads to the top of his jeans. As you bite your lip, you hear his chuckle, “My eyes are up here.”

“Mmm, yeah they are,” you start, tugging your shirt off and shimmying your pants over your hips, “but the view down there is nice, too.”

Logan reaches for you, his large hands skimming over your hips, over the flesh of your ass and under your thighs, lifting you up and forcing your to wrap your legs around his waist. With an easy flick of his fingers, he’s unclasped your bra and you toss it aside with the rest of your clothes. 

Kneeling on the bed, he lays you down, kissing his way down your stomach, his nose nuzzling along the top of your panties. “Do you have any fucking idea how sweet you smell?” His mouth is hot against your skin and he laughs as you tilt your hips up towards him. “You want me to fuck you with my tongue? Lap at you until you’re seeing stars?”

Molten desire shoots down your spine and you can feel the slick between your thighs. God, the mouth on him was going to be the death of you. 

You prop yourself up onto your elbows and look down at him. “Just fucking touch me already,” you whine, and you hate how desperate you sound. “Haven’t we waited long enough?”

He presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his nose along the center of your clothed cunt. You inhale sharply as he kisses over your clit before trailing his fingers along your hip bones and pulling the fabric down. His warm hands palm along your thighs and he opens you up, staring down at you with hunger in his eyes. And then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a hot stripe through your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan as his mouth continues to lap at you, pleasure tingling low in your belly and spreading through your limbs.

Logan hums. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart.” His tongue dips down, collecting the arousal at your entrance. “I could die happy between these thighs.”

You trail your hands down over your chest, briefly palming each breast before you continue down and sink your fingers into Logan’s hair. His groan rumbles through you and you don’t miss the way his hips start to rut against the mattress, seeking friction. 

His mouth and tongue continue to move over you, long, slow licks punctuated by gentle sucks and flicks over your clit and you can’t stop the grind of your hips against his face. You feel his smirk against you as one thick finger finally sinks inside your walls, nudging that spot deep inside that makes you squirm.

Another finger slips inside you and a low whine spills from your lips. 

“You’re beautiful like this, you know that,” he says, voice rough, thumb replacing his tongue against your clit as his fingers continue pumping. “All blissed out and needy and desperate to come on my fingers.”

His words zip through you as he fuck you with his hand and you bite your lip. “C’mon,” he purrs, “let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.”

Soft whimpers spill from your throat as he continues to work you, that pull in your lower belly growing stronger and stronger. His hand never stilling, he kisses his way up your body, pulling a nipple into his mouth and then you’re coming, cunt clenching around his fingers. 

Logan licks into your mouth to steal your cries as he continues to work you through your orgasm. Your thighs clamp around his forearm, the pleasure overwhelming. 

He finally stills, pulling his fingers from you and you whimper at the loss. You watch through half lidded eyes as he licks his fingers clean of your slick and you feel that flame reignite in your belly. 

“Take your pants off,” you demand, breathless, pushing at his chest. 

Logan laughs, but allows you to push him onto his back. “You always so bossy after you come?”

You fumble at his belt, undoing his buckle and unzipping his jeans before shoving them down his hips. “Make me do it again and find out,” you taunt as his cock springs free.

He kicks his pants the rest of the way off and you sit back on your heels and admire him for a moment. Your eyes trail from his broad shoulders, down the contours of his chest and follow that line of hair down his stomach to between his thighs, where his cock stands, thick and ready. 

“I will never get tired of looking at you,” you sigh, raking your nails down his thighs, deliberately not touching him where you know he wants it the most. “You’re so beautiful, Logan.”

Whatever response he has, dies in his throat as you finally wrap your hand around his cock, giving him one long, firm stroke. He’s hot and heavy and you’re aching to feel him inside you. But not yet. Leaning down, your eyes meet his and you trace your tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting the salt on his skin.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Logan curses, unable to stop the thrust of his hips, chasing your mouth. 

You wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit and collecting the precum there before taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. Logan hisses through his teeth, fingers winding their way into your hair to help guide your movements. 

“You’re so warm and wet, sweetheart,” he groans. “But I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

You give him one last stroke as you release him from your mouth and climb up to sit on his thighs. Logan pulls you forward by your hips and you gasp as your cunt slides across his cock. 

“Line me up,” he instructs and you obey without hesitation. 

Gripping him in your hand, you guide him to your entrance, notching him inside before slowly sinking down atop him. A sob chokes in your throat at the thick feel of him inside you, stretching you, making you feel complete. Your entire existence boils down to where he’s joined with you and you relish the burn.

His hands are everywhere as you start to move, caressing your thighs, your hips, up to your breasts and back down, tracing a map on your skin only his fingers can read. Praise falls from his lips in an almost nonstop litany, telling you how wet you are, how tight, how warm, how good you’re making him feel.

“Do you want to know how you make me feel?” you ask, breathless. You look down at him through half lidded eyes and find him just as flushed and wanton as you. “How you’ve always made me feel?”

You continue to rock back and forth on his cock, slow, deliberate movements that leave you wanting, needing more. Logan shifts his hips and finds the leverage to fuck up into you, the deep drag of his cock against your walls making you throw your head back and moan. 

“Fuck,” he growls, his fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your hips, pulling you somehow impossibly closer. “Show me, sweetheart.” 

You brace your hands against his chest, raking your fingers through the damp hair there, feeling his heart beat beneath your palms. Leaning down, you capture his mouth with yours, the kiss sloppy as he continues to thrust up into you. You move your hands up his neck, your fingers collecting the sweat along his jaw and then, “Feel, Logan.”

It starts slow, an almost faint heat spreading from your fingertips as they ghost over his skin, your power beginning to pulse in time with your heartbeat. Logan gasps and his rhythm falters as the first wave of emotion hits him. You slow, too, your hips barely moving as you run your fingers down from his jaw, over the column of his throat and back to his chest. 

Your palms rest against his ribs as you continue to pour into him all the love and passion he’s ever shown you over centuries. Logan stares up at you in reverence, his face soft as he runs his hands up your sides, over your breasts. He tugs you down towards him, his mouth hovering over yours.

“Do you feel, Logan,” you ask, your breath hot against his lips. “Do you feel how much you love you have in you?”

He draws your bottom lip into his mouth, biting softly once, before capturing your mouth fully, kissing you deep. You hum as his tongue swipes against yours and his fingers tangle in your hair. 

A gasp pulls from your throat as Logan wraps his arms around you and flips your position, forcing your legs around his waist as he begins to thrust into you again in earnest. You feel him deep in this position, each thrust of his cock against your walls hitting that perfect spot inside of you. 

“It’s too much,” he groans into your skin. “Never…never felt like this.”

You rake your nails along his back, relishing in the growl that falls from this throat. “It always feels like this,” you gasp, drawing your power back. 

His arms slide under your shoulders, anchoring you in place as his hips continue to thrust into you. It’s lewd almost, the slapping of skin against skin and the wet noises from where you’re joined. His breath is hot and damp against your skin where his mouth hovers over the pulse point in your neck. 

Your fingers snake into the short strands of hair at the back of his neck and your other hand slips in between your bodies, reaching for your clit. 

“That’s it,” he moans, “use those fingers to get yourself off on my cock.”

You can feel where he’s sliding thickly into your cunt, the wiry hairs at the base of his cock damp with your arousal, and you begin to rub in time with his thrusts. Pleasure zips along your spine, every cell in your body afire at his touch. You feel that telltale tug low in your belly and you know you’re not going to last much longer. 

He slides his hands down from your shoulders, following the curve of your spine, forcing you to arch your back. Taking the opportunity before him, he swirls his tongue over one nipple, then the other as he palms the flesh of your hips in his hands, angling your hips further up into his. A keening whine falls from your lips as he somehow thrusts deeper into you, making your legs shake. 

Logan nudges your hand away from your clit, replacing your fingers with his own as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes are focused on the sight of his cock thrusting into you and the slick smeared across your thighs. 

“Logan,” you gasp, “I’m so close.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, dragging his gaze up to your face, “I got you. Takin’ me so well, so tight. Gonna spend the rest of my life tellin’ you how fucking good you are.”

His words tip you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you as you spasm down on his cock, his name falling from your lips. He fucks you through your orgasm, each thrust of his hips sending aftershocks of pleasure along your limbs as he chases his own release. Logan’s thrusts grow erratic and you reach for him, grasping at his forearms, pulling him down to you. 

“Come for me, Logan,” you murmur in his ear. “I wanna feel you come.”

With one final thrust, he comes with a groan, forehead pressed against yours as he spills himself deep within you. You can feel cock spasm as he lazily thrusts through his orgasm, using your body to wring out the last of his pleasure. You hold him close, pressing open mouthed kisses to his jaw as he finally stills within you. 

Careful not to crush you, Logan pulls you to him as he rolls onto his side. He doesn’t pull out, tugging your leg over his hip to keep you close and full. 

You smile up at him, brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. He sighs at your touch, a content sound that tugs at your heart. 

“You really love me in every universe?” he asks softly, brushing his nose against yours. 

“Yes.”

“Even this one?”

“Especially this one.” 

You don’t know what the rest of this life holds, but you do know one thing—wherever he goes, you’ll be right there with him. 

[inseobts]

could i please request reader who’s Tamaran (like starfire from teen titans), the straw hats are chilling on an island and exploring. while they gather around for dinner, reader crashes near the sunny. you know the usual; luffy’s fascinated, sanji’s simping, nami, chopper & usopp cower in fear, etc. the reader can either be romantic or platonic with the straw hats. but she’s gotta kiss one of the guys to know/understand their language. maybe Sanji and he passes out from a nose bleed?🤭 or she kisses luffy or zoro (and sanji pouts of course). after settling down, she explains herself. you can continue the rest, i’ll leave it to you😉 please and thank you!!

Alien Kiss

strawhat crew x fem!reader (platonic)

a/n: I loved this idea!! thank youuuu

words count: 1.9k

tags: platonic but with a kiss, tamaran!reader, humor, fluff, first contact, alien culture shock

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun is setting on a small tropical island. The Straw Hat Pirates have made camp near the beach, with the Thousand Sunny anchored close to shore. A fire crackles in the center of their circle. Meat sizzles. Luffy drools. Sanji flips skewers with style.

“Man, this island’s got some good fruit!” Usopp says, tossing a mango up and catching it.

“And herbs!” Chopper adds, holding up some strange green leaves “These can help with fever!”

Robin smiles softly, reading a book under a palm tree. Franky lounges beside her, sipping cola through a curly straw. Brook hums a tune. Nami counts the day’s haul with a greedy sparkle in her eye.

Just a normal evening.

Then the sky rips open.

A streak of bright orange and pink fire cuts across the sky fast, burning, alive. The crash shakes the ground, sending birds flying into the sky.

BOOM!

“WHAAAAT WAS THAT?!” Usopp shrieks, diving behind Chopper.

“That was too close!” Nami yells, ducking.

“It came from near the ship!” Robin says, already on her feet.

“Let’s goooo!!” Luffy grins and sprints toward the beach.

The Straw Hats rush toward the impact zone, weapons and curiosity ready. Smoke rises in a glowing cloud. The ground is scorched in a ring around something… no, someone.

You.

You’re lying face-down in the sand, groaning, your long fiery hair fanned out like a burning sun. Your armor is cracked and your cape torn, but you’re alive. Barely. You lift your head slowly, golden eyes squinting at the group.

Luffy stares “Woaaaah.”

“A beautiful woman just fell from the sky!” Sanji says, hearts popping in his eyes “I must be dreaming!”

“Don’t go near her!” Nami warns, grabbing Luffy and Chopper by their collars.

“She could be dangerous!” Luffy says, trembling.

“Or need help…” Chopper murmurs, looking worried.

You sit up slowly, wincing “Mmm… Ow… Where… is the… where am I…?”

Everyone freezes. They don’t understand what you’re saying and your voice is melodic, but your words are jumbled, your language alien. You look around, confused. Then your eyes land on the blonde guy with heart eyes, closer to you.

You crawl to reach him.

“I must… do the kissing now” you think, reaching for his face.

Sanji blinks “Eh? What do you—”

SMOOCH.

Sanji’s eyes go wide. He wobbles.

Then he collapses in a dramatic swoon “She kissed meeee—!”

Thud.

Nosebleed. Unconscious.

“…That guy is so weird” Zoro mutters.

You wipe your lips and nod, now understanding their words.

“There. I speak your language now.” You stand slowly, wobbly but tall “Greetings! I am Y/N of Tamaran. I come in peace!”

Luffy bursts out laughing “She’s cool!”

“You kissed him just to speak our language?” Nami asks, still suspicious.

“Yes. It is how we learn on Tamaran,” you explain with a shrug “Is he okay?” You poke Sanji with your foot.

“He’ll live” Robin says, amused.

Brook steps forward “Do you always kiss people to learn languages? May I volunteer next?”

“Back off, skeleton” Zoro grunts.

Luffy grins, walking up to you “You fell from the sky! That was so awesome!”

“Yes. My ship exploded,” you say “But it is fine. I have survived many crashes.”

“You hungry?” he asks, like it’s the most obvious question in the world.

Your eyes light up “Very.”

The fire crackles again as the Straw Hats settle back around it, now with one extra person.

You sit between Luffy and Robin, a plate of food in front of you piled way too high. You eat like someone who hasn’t eaten in days, which is true. Luffy tries to keep up, matching you bite for bite.

“This is most delicious!” you say, cheeks stuffed, sauce on your chin.

“I like you!” Luffy says with a mouthful of meat “You eat like me!”

Robin chuckles “She might be the only one who can.”

Chopper watches from across the fire, whispering to Usopp “She kissed Sanji…”

Usopp stares, still wide-eyed “That was so fast. I didn’t even blink. It was just boom! Lip-lock!”

Nami leans forward, smirking “Okay, I have to ask. Why did you pick Sanji of all people?”

You blink “He was the closest one and also the only one who looked like he wouldn’t have killed me after it. He looked very… open.”

“Pffft—open?!” Usopp bursts into laughter.

“More like too open,” Zoro says, arms crossed “Next time try kissing a rock. Might be less dramatic.”

You tilt your head “Was that not correct? Is kissing not acceptable for the learning of tongues?”

“Not on this planet!” Nami laughs.

“I told you I should’ve gone first” Brook mutters.

Luffy scratches his head “So you kiss someone, and boom—you get to know their words?”

“Yes,” you say “It is how my people learn other languages quickly. A deep connection.”

“Sanji’s ‘deep connection’ was his blood pressure” Usopp snorts.

The cook is still lying nearby, an ice pack on his head. His nose is stuffed with tissues. He groans softly.

“She… kissed me…” he whispers.

“Wake up, Romeo,” Nami says, kicking him lightly “She kissed you out of necessity, not romance.”

“It was the language kiss!” you add. “I did not feel the butterflies in the belly.”

Sanji twitches “Not even a little…?”

“No butterflies” you say firmly, shoving another bite of food into your mouth.

Zoro snorts “You picked the worst guy to kiss.”

“I am seeing that now,” you admit, looking down at Sanji’s dazed face “Is he always like this?”

“Unfortunately” Nami says.

Luffy bursts into laughter “He’ll be fine! He just needs a few hours and maybe a cold bath!”

“I’m honored… even if it meant nothing…” Sanji whispers dramatically.

“You’ll live” Chopper says, dragging a blanket over him.

You lean back against a log, warm and full now, watching the moon rise.

“I like you people,” you say “You are strange. Loud. And full of meat.”

Luffy throws an arm around your shoulder “You’re one of us now!”

“Should we make her kiss more people so she knows more languages?” Usopp jokes.

“No!” everyone yells.

You laugh loud and bright, like a star crackling through the sky.

The night air is warm, and the sky is full of stars. Most of the crew lounges around the fire, bellies full, half-asleep.

Except for Luffy, who’s still staring at you with sparkles in his eyes.

“So wait… you can fly, right?”

You nod, licking sauce off your fingers “Of course.”

“COOOOOL!” he gasps, nearly falling backward “Can you show us?!”

You shrug “Sure.”

You hop to your feet. Everyone watches as a soft glow forms around your body, golden and warm. Your hair floats slightly, and your eyes shimmer. Then you rise off the ground like a rocket, stopping midair above the campfire.

Chopper’s jaw drops “She’s floating!”

“No way…!” Usopp stares up in awe.

You flip midair, do a small spin, and land lightly on your feet again.

“WOAH!! DO IT AGAIN!!” Luffy yells, jumping up.

“Okay” you grin and shoot upward like a comet, then streak across the beach before coming to a smooth stop midair again.

“Her flight is strong” Robin says with an impressed smile.

“She’s like a glowing bird!” Chopper squeaks.

Zoro nods once “I’ll admit… that’s pretty badass.”

You land again and dust yourself off like it’s nothing.

“I can also shoot energy blasts. And punch through steel. And lift very heavy things. But only when I am not hungry.”

“Like a superhuman alien lady warrior princess?” Usopp says, eyes wide.

“Exactly.”

Luffy grins wider than ever “JOIN MY CREW!”

The camp goes silent.

Nami nearly drops her drink “Luffy.”

“Join us!” Luffy says again, grabbing your hands “You’re strong! You can fly! You’d be awesome on the crew!”

“Luffy, idiot, maybe she doesn’t want to join.” Nami says, glaring at him “She probably has a home somewhere, or people looking for her. Maybe she wants to go back.”

You pause.

Then you shake your head.

“No. I do not wish to go back.”

Everyone turns toward you.

Luffy blinks “Huh? You don’t?”

You sit down again, quieter now “My planet… Tamaran… is not kind. I was a princess, yes. But they feared me. Treated me like a weapon. My own sister betrayed me. I was not free.”

There’s a silence.

You look up, eyes calm but serious.

“I crashed here by accident. But… meeting you all? Laughing? Eating? This feels more like home than anything I have known in years.”

Nami frowns slightly “Oh…”

“I do not know what will happen next,” you add “But I would like to stay. If you will have me.”

Luffy grins like a kid given a second dessert “You’re in!!”

“YAY!” Chopper cheers.

Sanji, now conscious and with a tissue in his nose, weakly raises a fist “Welcome… to the crew… my starlight…”

“You’ll fit right in” Robin says, amused.

“Just don’t burn the ship” Franky adds.

Brook bows “Welcome aboard, Miss Space Princess!”

You smile, full and bright. For once, not running. Not hiding. Not being used.

Zoro nods “Looks like we got another weirdo.”

You smirk “You’re welcome.”

Later that night, the waves roll gently against the shore, and the Thousand Sunny glows softly under the moonlight. The fire has died down, and the crew lounges around in that sleepy, post-feast haze.

“Hey,” Usopp says suddenly, pointing at you “Wait. You have powers. Crazy powers.”

“True” you say, still picking at a mango slice.

“So…” he squints “Did you eat a Devil Fruit or everyone in your planet is like you?”

You blink “What is a devil fruit?”

Nami raises an eyebrow “Cursed fruits that give people powers but make them sink like a rock in water.”

“Yeah,” Chopper says “Luffy, me, Robin, Brook—most of us can’t swim.”

Luffy grins and slaps his chest “Worth it!”

You tilt your head “No. I did not eat any devil fruit.”

Zoro leans forward slightly “So you can still swim?”

You nod “Of course. Want me to show you?”

Before anyone answers, you stand up and start running straight toward the water. You glow again, like a comet, and leap into the sea with a perfect dive—splash!

Everyone rushes to the edge of the beach.

Luffy’s eyes are stars “SHE’S SWIMMING!!”

In the moonlight, your figure glides through the water effortlessly, spinning and flipping like it’s nothing. You leap out and dive again, laughing as you surface.

“Okay, now she’s just showing off” Usopp mutters.

“She can fly and swim?” Chopper says, eyes wide “That’s not fair!”

“I don’t like how useful she is” Zoro says with a smirk.

Nami crosses her arms “Great. Now I’m gonna have to hear Luffy say ‘fly me in the sky’ for the next three weeks.”

“I CAN fly with her!!” Luffy shouts “Y/N!! LET’S FLY!! ACTUALLY LET'S FLY RACE!! I AM GOING TO JUMP FASTER!!!”

You swim back to shore and step out, water dripping down your armor, grinning “You will lose.”

“You don’t know that!!” he yells, already bouncing on his heels.

You glance around at the crew, still in disbelief, still amazed, still laughing. You didn’t mean to end up here. But it feels like you belong.

Sanji, wrapped in a blanket, gives a dreamy sigh “A beauty who can cook a man with her gaze and still swim… I am not worthy…”

You wrinkle your nose “Still weird.”

“Fair.”

You plop down again next to Robin, who offers you a towel.

“You really want to stay?” she asks softly.

You nod.

“I do.”

She smiles “Good.”

The stars stretch overhead, the sea sparkles, and for once, you don’t feel like you’re falling.

You feel like you’ve landed exactly where you were meant to.

[spookyji]

MILLIE HES JUST FEEDING MY CAMBOY AGENDA ATP

that camboy. p.js

i umm… this is wayyy longer than i intended but i got carried away

camboy!jisung who never admits to anyone he’s a camboy,,, the way he started? haechan laughing at him again for the way he’s never been laid but has such a big dick, all those inches and no idea what to do with them. his face flushed red because he’s only ever had his own hands to deal with… that, so embarrassing to always be laughed at for the same thing for years now. so some night later, when he was scrolling down another site, half hard in his sweats and really needing to release the tension, the thought hit him. something to prove.

camboy!jisung’s first video, dark, blurry lighting, iphone in one hand, hard dick in the other, front camera angled down to hide his face above his pretty lips, clumsily jerking off to the faint sounds of some porn video in the background, his soft breathing and quiet, low moans, ‘til he cums all over his phone, like… 3 minutes long. wiping away the cum off his screen, and posting the video before he can think about it. and then he went to sleep, trying to forget it. like he’d get any views anyways. oh… jisung was so wrong about that.

camboy!jisung’s first video explodes across the cam site, so clumsy but something about how amateur this boy with bitten, parted lips and a big, veiny cock is charming. constant comments about his huge hands, dms wanting dick pics, tips pouring in, 99+ notifications when jisung wakes up to his screen flooded with notif tabs. oh. people liked it…? and no one knows who he is. thousands of followers just for one 3 minute video.

camboy!jisung never shows his full face on camera, it’s part of his appeal, this pretty, hidden boy and his secrets. videos taken in the mirror, his long legs spread and head tilted back, shaky camera when he’s close, sticky ropes of cum spilling on his adidas sweats and long fingers, cropped to hide his upper face. voice-only cam streams, thousands of viewers sending him $50 for him to moan their name while he slowly jerks off, lewd sounds and panting whines, rustles of his sheets and his low, deep voice like an asmr. hundreds of dollars paid for exclusive nudes and lewds, constant dms begging to do a collab.

…

camboy!jisung… can’t keep secrets forever, can he? not when he meets you, the kind of crush that has him instantly smitten, maybe shy attracts shy? awkward but cute first dates, wait, where did a college student get so much money from to spend buying you flowers every date? especially when he works part time as an unpaid dancer. there’s something that makes him cough and brush it off whenever you ask if he’s spending too much money on this dinner date when jisung doesn’t want to split the check. cute kisses after he walks you home, biting his lip when he gets home because how much longer can he keep his secret? would you… still like him back?

camboy!jisung whose secret is exposed during a movie night. opening his laptop to choose a movie when he goes to make popcorn, only to open to a cam site. a quick scroll shows his photos, videos, thousands of followers, and dms. jisung… are you a camboy? poor boy with his hands holding a bag of popcorn, god, he’s so nervous you’ll dump him right then and there, his voice a quiet mumble. um… yeah. i didn’t know how to… tell you. is it… not okay with you? jisung’s heart about to beat out of his chest, ‘cause he’s pretty sure his heart is about to be broken in 10 seconds, he’s so scared. until you tug him down by his shirt collar to kiss him, i love you, of course it’s okay. the kind of clumsy, losing your virginity to each other sex, now there’s no more secrets. (and jisung learns getting laid is so much better than his hand)

that cam couple everyone envies, ‘cause you’re so obviously obsessed with each other, jisung’s account now filled with your sex tapes. uploads of his fingers knuckles deep in your pussy while you’re sitting in his lap, his low, quiet voice murmuring dirty thoughts to you, but barely audible to your audience. his hands gripping your hair as he pushes your head down, lewd sounds of sucking him off, loving praises laced with his breathy moans. like… how can one couple upload so many videos every week,, not even including the sex you have off screen? so insane in love.

dms asking for collab? blocked.

[meeraonpole]

Twitch Steams : LN4 X Y/N

Summary: Lando goes live on Twitch, but his stream takes a cute turn when you bring him food. Chat instantly falls in love with your presence, demanding you stay. After giving up his chair for you, the two of you share adorable moments, jokes, and laughter while chat spams heart emojis. By the end of the stream, it’s clear—Lando might be the streamer, but you’re the real star.

Lando had just booted up his Twitch stream, a cheeky grin on his face as he greeted the thousands of viewers flooding into chat. His headset sat slightly askew on his messy curls, and his hoodie was oversized as always.

"Hello, hello! What's up, chat?" he said, adjusting his mic. "We’re back at it today. Gonna play some tarkov, maybe some Valorant later. Who knows?"

The chat was already going wild, messages flying past at an unreadable speed:

"Lando, why are you always late?"

"McLaren merch WHEN?"

"Why does your hair always look like you just fought a tornado?"

Lando chuckled as he scrolled through the messages. "Alright, alright, calm down. I was like—only five minutes late today, which, in my world, is early, okay?" He clicked into his racing setup and got ready for a few laps, but before he could even get started, there was a soft knock at his door.

"Uh-oh, who's that?" he mused aloud, glancing toward the door. "Hold on, chat, someone’s about to interrupt our very serious business."

A moment later, the door creaked open, and in walked you, holding a plate of food in one hand and a drink in the other. Lando’s face immediately lit up.

"Oooooh, look at that, chat! Delivery service has arrived!" he said dramatically, leaning back in his chair.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "You’ve been sitting here for hours, Lando. You need to eat."

"What did I do to deserve you?" he asked, taking the plate from you. "Wait, did you make this, or did you just steal it from the kitchen?"

You scoffed, placing the drink down next to him. "Rude. I made it, obviously."

"Chat, do we trust this?" Lando asked, pretending to inspect the food suspiciously. Cue the flood of messages.

"Trust her, Lando."

"Y/N best girlfriend confirmed."

"Lando, if you don’t eat that, we riot."

You laughed as you backed toward the door. "Alright, I’m leaving you and your weird little fan club alone. Enjoy your food, superstar."

Lando pouted dramatically. "You’re not gonna stay? Chat, tell her to stay!"

Chat immediately spammed:

"STAYYY."

"Y/N COME BACK."

"Lando is 100x cuter when you're around."

You shook your head. "No, you guys have fun. I’m not stealing your spotlight."

And with that, you disappeared out of frame, leaving Lando to sigh dramatically before stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. "Well, chat, there goes the love of my life, abandoning me in my time of need."

But the chat wasn’t letting it go.

"CALL HER BACK."

"We need Y/N content!"

Lando groaned playfully. "Alright, alright, fine! You guys are so needy. Let me—wait, I have an idea."

He reached for his phone and called you, putting it on speaker. After a few rings, you picked up.

"What now?" you asked teasingly.

"Chat is basically threatening to riot if you don’t come back," Lando said, grinning. "So, congratulations, you’re famous."

You sighed dramatically, but he could hear the smile in your voice. "Fine. But only for a little bit."

Seconds later, you reappeared in the room, and Lando immediately got up from his chair. "Here, take my seat."

You frowned. "But where are you gonna sit?"

"Don’t worry about it," he said, walking off camera. Moments later, he dragged in another chair from across the room and plopped down next to you. The chat exploded.

"HE GAVE UP HIS CHAIR FOR HER."

"THE BARE MINIMUM BUT WE LOVE HIM FOR IT."

"Boyfriend of the year, confirmed."

Lando grinned as he read the messages. "See, chat, I am a gentleman. Give me some credit!"

You chuckled, leaning back in the chair as Lando scrolled through chat. "You guys are too much."

"They love you," Lando said, nudging you playfully. "More than they love me, actually. Should I be concerned?"

"Very," you teased.

The two of you continued streaming, answering silly questions and joking around. At one point, Lando leaned his head on your shoulder dramatically. "Chat, I’m exhausted. Y/N, take over."

You laughed, adjusting the headset. "Alright, guys, what’s up? Welcome to my stream now. First order of business: roasting Lando."

Chat loved it, spamming:

"FINALLY, THE TAKEOVER."

"Roast him, Y/N. He deserves it."

Lando gasped, sitting up. "Okay, no, this was a terrible idea. I take it back."

You grinned, poking his cheek. "Too late, superstar."

The chat was going wild, and Lando couldn’t stop smiling at you. He reached over and intertwined his fingers with yours under the table, unseen by the camera but enough for you to squeeze his hand lightly.

Eventually, Lando stretched and yawned. "Alright, chat, I think we’re gonna call it a night. Y/N has stolen my stream, my chair, and my dignity, so I think it’s time to go."

You smirked. "Pretty sure you lost your dignity a long time ago."

Chat spammed "LMAO" as Lando put a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Wow. Chat, did you see that? My own girlfriend betraying me on live stream."

You grinned, leaning into him just a little. "They saw nothing."

The chat exploded again, filled with heart emojis and messages like "GET MARRIED ALREADY" and "CUTEST COUPLE ON TWITCH."

Lando glanced at the screen, then at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, chat, love you guys, but I think I’m gonna go spend some time with this one now."

"Finally," you said, standing up. "Took you long enough."

He rolled his eyes but reached for your hand as he ended the stream, the final words from chat being:

"PROTECT THEM AT ALL COSTS."

"Lando, you better treat her like a queen."

"This was the best stream ever."

And as Lando shut his PC down, he looked over at you, grinning. "See, told you they love you more than me."

You shrugged. "Well, can you blame them?"

With a laugh, he pulled you closer, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "Nope. Not even a little."

Tbh I don't really like this one but its ok don't really have anything else to say but yea enjoy the rest of your dayyyy

oh lemme know if there are any errors

[gottencents]

Can’t Wait - Yu Jimin

pairing. idol!karina x chaebol!reader

synopsis. a chaebol daughter, Y/N, unexpectedly finds herself drawn into a whirlwind connection with Karina, a top idol who’s never felt anything close to love—until now.

“No.”

Y/N crossed her arms, her cold gaze fixed on her phone screen as she read the group chat.

Manon: Guys, aespa concert for my birthday. You’re all coming. No excuses.

Yves: Finally! I’ve been dying to see them live 😭

Manon: I got VIP tickets. We’ll be right next to the stage 😌

Yves: Omg, front-row seats? Count me in!

Manon: Y/N? 👀

Y/N: Absolutely not.

Her fingers hovered over her phone as the typing bubble from Manon popped up. Y/N already knew what was coming—a relentless string of messages filled with emojis, persuasive tactics, and an unhealthy amount of guilt-tripping.

Manon: Come on, it’s my birthday! You can’t say no to me on my birthday. 🥺

Manon: Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do. 😏

Manon: Live a little, Y/N.

Yves: She has a point… It’s for Manon. Just this once?

Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning back on her couch. Of course, they’d gang up on her like this. She didn’t even dislike aespa—it was just that being dragged into the K-pop frenzy wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. But Manon wasn’t going to let it go.

Her phone buzzed again.

Manon: Y/N, I already got you a ticket. You’re coming whether you like it or not. 😘

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh. “Typical Manon.” There was no escaping her once she set her mind on something.

The venue was packed, buzzing with energy as fans filled every corner, lightsticks waving in unison. The air felt electric, anticipation hanging thick in the atmosphere.

Y/N glanced down at her outfit and frowned. She tugged at the edge of her jacket—an exact replica of Karina’s “Supernova” MV outfit, complete with the silver detailing and edgy vibe.

“I still can’t believe you made me wear this,” Y/N muttered, shooting a glare at Manon, who was grinning ear to ear.

“Relax,” Manon said, tossing an arm around Y/N’s shoulder. “We look amazing. Plus, it’s part of the experience. Trust me, we’ll get noticed for sure.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

Yves, standing next to them, laughed. “Come on, Y/N, loosen up a bit. It’s not every day you get to be front row at an aespa concert.”

The lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted in deafening cheers as the stage lit up with vivid colors. The members of aespa appeared, their energy filling the venue instantly. Y/N couldn’t deny how impressive they were live—Karina especially, who seemed to command the stage effortlessly.

As the show went on, Y/N found herself momentarily forgetting her discomfort. The music was good, the performances captivating. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Until it happened.

“Let’s play a little game,” Karina’s voice echoed through the arena, a playful smile on her face. “We’re going to play I Spy with the crowd!”

Y/N froze.

“No, no, no…” she whispered, her eyes widening as the camera began panning across the audience.

“Look for something silver,” Karina said. “Hmm… Oh!”

The giant screen above the stage zoomed in on Y/N.

“Oh my God,” Manon whispered excitedly, shaking Y/N’s arm. “She’s looking right at you!”

Y/N’s heart stopped as Karina’s eyes locked onto hers.

“Is that…?” Karina’s voice faltered for a split second before she smiled, tilting her head slightly. “I like your outfit. It’s… stunning.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but it wasn’t until Karina’s next words—accidentally whispered into the mic—that chaos truly erupted.

“Absolutely stunning.”

The crowd exploded. Fans screamed, lightsticks waving furiously, while the other members of aespa glanced at Karina, some laughing, others wide-eyed with surprise.

Y/N blinked, heat rushing to her face. “What just happened?”

“She called you stunning,” Yves said, barely containing her laughter. “In front of thousands of people. And everyone heard it.”

“It’s fan service,” Y/N said quickly, brushing it off as her heart thumped in her chest. “That’s all it is.”

“Uh-huh,” Manon smirked. “Sure. Fan service.”

The screen lingered on Y/N a second too long, catching Karina’s lingering gaze before it finally cut away.

Y/N exhaled, forcing herself to ignore the curious stares from the people around her. “I am never listening to you again, Manon.”

“You’ll thank me later,” Manon said with a wink. “Trust me.”

But Y/N had a sinking feeling that this was only the beginning of a much bigger mess.

The concert had ended hours ago, but the chaos that followed Karina’s little slip-up was far from over. Y/N sat on the couch in her penthouse, phone in hand, scrolling through a never-ending stream of notifications. Her name was all over Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok—clips of Karina calling her stunning had already gone viral.

“Y/N L/N spotted at aespa’s concert!”

“Karina’s reaction is priceless. She’s totally starstruck.”

“Did Karina just call Y/N stunning in front of thousands? Gay panic much?”

Y/N sighed, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to go.”

The door to her penthouse burst open, and Manon strolled in, holding two iced lattes and a mischievous grin. “Good morning, viral sensation!”

Y/N glared at her. “I didn’t invite you.”

“You never do.” Manon plopped down beside her and handed her a drink. “But I thought you might need caffeine after last night’s… performance.”

“It wasn’t a performance,” Y/N shot back, taking the latte. “It was a disaster.”

Manon chuckled. “Disaster? Please. You’re trending. Everyone’s obsessed with you—and Karina, apparently.” She pulled out her phone and started reading tweets. ”‘Karina’s reaction to Y/N is giving soulmate energy.’ Oh, this one’s good: ‘Karina called Y/N stunning? I ship it.’ There are already fan edits of you two.”

Y/N groaned. “It’s fan service, Manon. That’s what idols do. They say things like that to go viral. She probably didn’t even mean it.”

Manon raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But let me remind you—she wasn’t supposed to have her mic on when she said it.”

Y/N froze for a second. That part she hadn’t really thought about. Karina’s reaction hadn’t felt… rehearsed. It had felt almost genuine, like the words slipped out before she could stop herself.

“Doesn’t matter,” Y/N said, shaking her head. “I’m not getting involved in this idol drama. I have my own life, and it doesn’t include being the center of some K-pop shipping war.”

Manon shrugged. “Fair enough. But good luck ignoring it. You know how relentless fans can be.”

Y/N didn’t respond, but she knew Manon was right. No matter how much she tried to brush it off, the internet wasn’t going to let it go anytime soon.

Karina sat in the practice room, phone in hand, staring at the screen with a blank expression. She’d watched the clip a dozen times by now—her voice whispering stunning into the mic, Y/N’s surprised expression on the big screen, and the crowd’s reaction.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“An idiot for what?” Winter asked, walking into the room with a curious look. “What happened?”

Karina peeked at her from between her fingers. “Did you see the clip from the concert?”

Winter smirked. “Oh, you mean the part where you called Y/N L/N stunning in front of thousands of fans and the whole internet? Yeah, I saw it. Everyone saw it.”

Karina groaned louder, dropping her head onto her knees. “It just slipped out. I didn’t mean to say it out loud. My mic was supposed to be off!”

“Mm-hmm,” Winter teased, plopping down beside her. “Sure, it just slipped out. I’ve never seen you that starstruck in my life. You couldn’t take your eyes off her.”

Karina shot her a glare. “I wasn’t starstruck. I was… surprised.”

“Surprised by her beauty?” Winter said with a mischievous grin. “It’s okay, Karina. We all know Y/N is gorgeous. Even I’d call her stunning.”

Karina leaned back against the wall with a frustrated sigh. “You don’t get it. This is a problem. She’s a chaebol, Winter. She’s not just some random celebrity we can casually talk to. She’s way out of our league, and now people think I’m obsessed with her.”

Winter chuckled. “Out of your league? Please. You’re—Karina of aespa. If anything, she’s probably out there wondering how to get your attention.”

Karina opened her mouth to argue, but a thought stopped her. What if Y/N was thinking about her? No, that was ridiculous.

“I just have to lay low until it blows over,” Karina muttered. “The fans will find something new to obsess over soon.”

“Good luck with that,” Winter said, scrolling through her phone. “The fans aren’t letting this go anytime soon. Look, someone already made a fan page for you two—‘Karina x Y/N.’ They’re calling you the perfect power couple.”

Karina snatched the phone and stared at the page. It was filled with pictures, clips from the concert, and countless comments speculating about their relationship. Her face flushed. “Oh my God.”

“Oh, and get this,” Winter continued. “Someone claims they saw Y/N liking one of the edits on TikTok.”

Karina’s eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?”

Winter shrugged. “Could be fake, but wouldn’t it be funny if it wasn’t?”

Karina leaned back again, suddenly feeling ten times more anxious. If Y/N had actually seen one of the edits… did that mean she was paying attention?

Y/N sat at her desk, her laptop open, pretending to focus on work while her thoughts kept drifting back to Karina. She hated to admit it, but Manon’s words were stuck in her head. What if it wasn’t fan service? What if Karina actually meant it?

Her phone buzzed with a notification. Another message from Manon.

Manon: Did you see Karina’s Weverse post? 👀

Y/N frowned and clicked on the link.

It was a simple post—just a picture of the crowd at the concert with the caption:

“Last night was unforgettable. Thank you, MYs. 💖”

But what caught Y/N’s attention was the timing. It had been posted just a few minutes after the concert ended, and the comments were filled with fans speculating about her.

Y/N stared at the screen, her heart beating faster than it should have. “Unforgettable,” she repeated softly.

She shook her head, shutting her laptop. “Nope. Not getting sucked into this.”

But deep down, she knew it was already too late.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to another flood of notifications. Apparently, her accidental rise to internet fame was nowhere near dying down. If anything, it was picking up speed.

Her phone buzzed again—a message from Yves.

Yves: Girl, you’re basically the main character on K-pop Twitter right now.

Yves: I’m serious. Look at this.

Y/N clicked the link Yves had sent, and a video edit loaded on her screen. It was one of those overly dramatic TikTok fan edits. Slow-motion clips of her on the big screen at the concert were mixed with Karina’s stunned expression, paired with emotional music. The caption read: “Karina x Y/N – meant to be?”

The next clip played Karina’s whisper: “Stunning,” followed by a close-up of her face as she tried to recover from the slip.

Y/N blinked. “Oh my God.” She turned the phone off and tossed it onto the couch. “This is getting out of hand.”

Her phone lit up again—this time, it was Manon calling. Y/N sighed and answered. “What now?”

“You’re welcome,” Manon said in a sing-song voice.

“For what?” Y/N asked, already regretting picking up.

“For making you the hottest topic on the internet. This is a PR dream, babe. You’re unstoppable right now.”

“I don’t want to be the hottest topic on the internet,” Y/N shot back. “I want this to blow over so I can go back to my life without people thinking I’m secretly dating an idol.”

Manon chuckled. “Who said anything about secret dating? But hey, if Karina happens to slide into your DMs, you’d better not leave her on read.”

“Manon,” Y/N warned. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“I’m not joking,” Manon said seriously. “You know how K-pop idols can be super private. If she’s curious about you, she might reach out through a back channel. It happens all the time in this industry.”

Y/N paused, unsure how to respond. The idea of Karina actually reaching out seemed absurd… but not entirely impossible.

“Relax,” Manon said, breaking the silence. “Just enjoy the attention while it lasts. You’re already on top of the world, Y/N. Own it.”

Y/N hung up, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

Karina sat cross-legged on the floor of the practice room, scrolling through her phone with a mixture of dread and curiosity. The internet had exploded overnight, and she couldn’t stop herself from checking the reactions.

The fan edits. The ship name. The endless comments about her “gay panic” moment.

Winter leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “You’ve been on your phone for two hours. Let me guess… Y/N?”

Karina didn’t bother denying it. “It’s out of control. They’re acting like we’re soulmates or something.”

Winter raised an eyebrow. “And how do you feel about that?”

Karina hesitated, her finger hovering over the screen. How did she feel about it? She barely knew Y/N, but something about her had thrown her completely off balance.

“I don’t know,” Karina admitted quietly. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s… confusing.”

Winter smirked. “Sounds like you have a crush.”

Karina shot her a look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious,” Winter said, sitting down next to her. “Look, you’re one of the most focused, controlled people I know. You never react like that. But the second you saw her, you froze. It’s not just some random thing. Trust me.”

Karina leaned back, lost in thought. Was Winter right? Had she really developed a crush on Y/N from one brief interaction?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was a message from her manager.

Manager: We need to talk about the Y/N situation. Call me.

Karina sighed. “Great. This is just what I needed.”

“Looks like it’s time to decide how you want to handle this,” Winter said with a grin. “You gonna ignore it, or are you gonna make a move?”

Karina bit her lip, the wheels in her mind turning. For once in her life, she wasn’t sure what the right move was.

Y/N was sitting at her desk, trying to focus on a report, when a notification popped up on her phone. She ignored it at first, but something about it caught her eye.

It was a follow request on Instagram. From katarinabluu.

Her breath caught in her throat. “No way.”

Y/N stared at the request, her mind racing. What does this mean? Is this some kind of mistake? Or is she really trying to reach out?

Her finger hovered over the Accept button.

“Manon’s gonna lose her mind,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

And just like that, with one tap of her finger, everything changed.

Y/N couldn’t stop staring at her phone. Karina’s follow request sat there, mocking her with its simplicity. After a few deep breaths, she hit Accept—half out of curiosity and half out of a strange desire to know what would happen next.

Not even a minute passed before her phone buzzed again.

katarinabluu: Hey.

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat. She reread the message twice, wondering if it was a prank or if she was hallucinating. Was Karina really messaging her?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She started typing, erased it, and tried again. Finally, she settled on something casual.

Y/N: Hey. Didn’t expect to hear from you.

The three little dots indicating Karina was typing popped up almost immediately.

Katarina: Yeah, sorry if this is weird. I just… wanted to check in. After last night, things got a little crazy, huh?

Y/N: You could say that. My notifications are still blowing up.

Katarina: Same. I thought it’d die down by now, but… guess not.

Y/N chuckled softly to herself. “Of course not,” she muttered.

Y/N: You kinda caused the chaos, you know. Calling me ‘stunning’ with your mic on? Bold move.

Karina read the message and winced, though she couldn’t help but smile at Y/N’s teasing tone.

Katarina: Totally unintentional, I swear. My mic wasn’t supposed to be on.

Y/N: Uh-huh. Sure.

Katarina: I’m serious! But… I mean, it’s not like I was lying.

Y/N froze. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart began to race again. Did Karina just… admit that?

Y/N: …So you meant it?

There was a pause. The dots appeared and disappeared several times before Karina finally responded.

Katarina: Yeah. You were stunning. Still are.

Y/N stared at the message, her face heating up. She was used to compliments—she’d been in the public eye long enough to brush them off—but something about Karina’s words felt different. They felt real.

Before she could overthink it, another message popped up.

Katarina: Look, I know we don’t really know each other, but… would you want to grab coffee sometime? Just to talk. Away from all the cameras and chaos.

Y/N’s heart skipped again. Coffee? With Karina? It wasn’t exactly what she’d expected, but it was… intriguing.

Y/N: You’re serious?

Katarina: 100%. No fan service, no cameras. Just us.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing back.

Y/N: Okay. Coffee sounds good.

Katarina: Great. I’ll message you the details. Looking forward to it. :)

As soon as the conversation ended, Y/N leaned back in her chair, running a hand through her hair.

“What did I just agree to?” she whispered.

Her phone buzzed again—this time from Manon.

Manon: Did Karina just follow you? And DM you? Are you KIDDING ME?!

Y/N sighed, already bracing herself for the interrogation that was about to come.

Y/N stood in front of her full-length mirror, adjusting her outfit for the third time. She wasn’t usually one to stress over casual meetings, but this felt different. She kept telling herself it was just coffee, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t just coffee.

Her phone buzzed.

Katarina: I’m here. Outside the café. No rush.

Y/N grabbed her bag and took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

The café was small and tucked away in a quiet neighborhood—intimate and unassuming. When Y/N stepped inside, her eyes immediately locked onto Karina, who was sitting at a corner table, wearing a simple black hoodie and a baseball cap.

For a second, Y/N forgot how to breathe.

Karina looked up and smiled, standing to greet her. “Hey. You made it.”

“Hey,” Y/N said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Nice disguise.”

Karina chuckled, adjusting her cap. “Had to be careful. Didn’t want to attract too much attention.”

“So… what’s this about?” Y/N asked, leaning forward slightly. “Not that I’m complaining, but it’s not every day that a K-pop idol asks me out for coffee.”

Karina smiled, a little shyly this time. “Honestly? I just… wanted to get to know you. Without all the noise. Last night was kind of a wake-up call for me.”

“A wake-up call?”

“Yeah,” Karina admitted. “I’ve been in the industry so long that I kind of forgot what it’s like to be genuinely curious about someone. And after seeing you… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected that level of honesty.

“I… don’t know what to say,” Y/N said softly. “But I guess I’ve been thinking about you too.”

For a moment, they just sat there, the noise of the café fading into the background.

“Then maybe,” Karina said, her voice steady but her eyes hopeful, “this doesn’t have to be just coffee.”

Y/N took a sip of her iced latte, trying to mask her nervousness. The tension in the air wasn’t heavy—it was surprisingly light—but the unspoken words between them made her heart race.

“So,” Y/N began, placing her cup down. “Do you do this often?”

“Do what?” Karina tilted her head, a playful smile on her lips.

“Track down random chaebol daughters and ask them out for coffee.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Karina laughed, her shoulders relaxing a little. “You caught me. I’m secretly building a collection of chaebol friends.”

Y/N smirked. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Not great,” Karina admitted, leaning in slightly. “Turns out, most of them don’t agree to coffee. But you did.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the slight blush that crept up her neck. “I’m sure you could’ve had your pick of anyone, but you chose me.”

Karina’s smile softened. “I told you, Y/N. You stood out. And… I don’t want this to sound weird, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

Y/N looked down at her drink, swirling the ice around with her straw. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that—Karina was unexpectedly sincere, which threw her off completely.

“You’re really bad at fan service, you know,” Y/N said, finally meeting her eyes. “You’re supposed to make it sound fake.”

“I’m not interested in fan service with you,” Karina said without missing a beat. “I’m just… interested in you.”

Y/N felt her breath hitch. For a moment, the world around her seemed to pause.

“That’s… bold,” she said quietly.

“I’ve been bold since last night,” Karina replied with a slight shrug. “Might as well keep it going.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Fair enough. So what now, Ms. K-pop Idol?”

Karina leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the table. “Now? We finish our coffee. Then maybe we go for a walk… or talk about something other than the industry or what’s trending on social media.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Karina said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s a dangerous game.”

“I like dangerous.”

Y/N took a moment to think before leaning forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Okay… but only if you go first.”

Karina nodded. “Deal.” She paused, thinking for a second. “I hate roller coasters.”

Y/N blinked. “That’s it? That’s your deep secret?”

“Hey, it’s a serious phobia,” Karina defended herself, holding up her hands. “I went on one when I was a kid, and I cried for an hour afterward. Haven’t gone on one since.”

Y/N chuckled. “Noted. No roller coasters for you.”

“Your turn,” Karina said, leaning in with anticipation.

Y/N hesitated, then finally said, “I once skipped a huge charity event and hid out at a theme park all night. No one ever found out.”

Karina’s eyes widened. “Wait… seriously? The media didn’t catch that?”

“Nope.” Y/N grinned. “I’m better at sneaking around than you’d think.”

“Impressive,” Karina said, her admiration clear. “We’re both full of surprises, huh?”

“Seems like it,” Y/N agreed, feeling more relaxed than she had in days.

The conversation continued, flowing effortlessly between lighthearted banter and deeper confessions. Hours passed without either of them noticing, the initial awkwardness long forgotten.

Eventually, Karina glanced at her phone and sighed. “I hate to say it, but I have to go soon. Schedule stuff.”

“Back to the idol life,” Y/N said with a soft smile.

“Yeah.” Karina stood, adjusting her hoodie. “But… this was nice. Really nice.”

“It was,” Y/N agreed, standing as well.

They lingered for a moment at the door, neither quite ready to say goodbye.

“So,” Karina said, her voice soft. “Can I see you again?”

Y/N smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Karina said, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s. “I’ll text you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Y/N replied.

With that, Karina gave a small wave and disappeared down the street. Y/N watched her go, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

As Y/N walked home, her phone buzzed with a new message.

katarinabluu: I already miss you. Just saying.

Y/N grinned, typing back.

Y/N: Same :)

Little did she know, this was just the beginning of something neither of them had expected.

The days following their coffee date passed in a whirlwind, but Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Karina. Her presence lingered in every quiet moment—a message here, a picture there, and more than a few late-night conversations that stretched until dawn.

She wasn’t sure how they’d slipped into this routine, but it felt effortless. Natural.

It had been a week since their first meeting when Y/N found herself scrolling through her phone late at night, staring at Karina’s latest message.

katarinabluu: Are you awake?

Y/N: Yeah. Can’t sleep. You?

Katarina: Same. Want to go for a drive?

Y/N hesitated for a split second before typing back.

Y/N: Pick me up in 20.

Karina’s black SUV idled quietly outside Y/N’s building. Y/N slid into the passenger seat, her pulse quickening at the sight of Karina in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, her hair tucked beneath a cap.

“Midnight drive, huh?” Y/N said, buckling her seatbelt. “Sounds suspiciously like something out of a K-drama.”

“Maybe,” Karina replied with a grin, pulling away from the curb. “But I promise there won’t be any dramatic rain scenes or tragic confessions.”

“Good,” Y/N teased. “I left my umbrella at home.”

The streets of Seoul were quiet, the usual buzz of the city muted under the glow of streetlights. The radio played softly in the background, filling the silence with a calming melody.

“Where are we going?” Y/N asked, watching the city blur past.

“Nowhere specific,” Karina said. “Just wanted to escape for a bit. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all,” Y/N said softly. “I could use a little escape too.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of the engine almost lulling Y/N into a sense of peace. It wasn’t until they reached a quiet overlook on the edge of the city that Karina finally stopped the car.

“Wow,” Y/N said as she stepped out, taking in the stunning view of Seoul’s skyline. “This is beautiful.”

“One of my favorite spots,” Karina admitted, leaning against the hood of the car. “No one ever bothers me here.”

Y/N joined her, their shoulders brushing as they stood side by side. “You come here often?”

“Sometimes,” Karina said, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “When things get overwhelming.”

“I get that,” Y/N said quietly. “The whole world watching your every move… it’s a lot.”

Karina glanced at her, her eyes soft. “Yeah. But being here with you… it feels different. Easier.”

Y/N turned to meet her gaze, their faces closer than she’d realized. “It does,” she agreed. “Like we’re not those people for a little while.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them standing in the quiet night.

“Y/N,” Karina said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you… afraid of this?” Karina gestured between them. “Of what’s happening here?”

Y/N hesitated, her heart pounding. “A little,” she admitted. “But not enough to stop.”

Karina smiled—a small, genuine smile that made Y/N’s heart ache in the best way. “Good. Me too.”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension melting away. “Look at us. Two scared idiots trying to figure this out.”

“At least we’re figuring it out together,” Karina said, nudging her gently.

Y/N nudged her back. “Yeah. Together.”

They stood there for a while longer, the city lights twinkling below them like stars. For the first time in a long time, everything felt… right.

Y/N woke up to her phone buzzing relentlessly. Groggily, she reached for it, blinking at the notifications flooding her screen.

Trending on Twitter: #KarinaAndY/N

Her stomach dropped.

“Oh no,” she muttered, sitting up in bed.

Manon’s name lit up her phone, followed by several frantic texts.

Manon: You’re trending. AGAIN. What did you do this time?!

Manon: Wait. Were you with Karina last night?

Manon: CALL ME.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. “This can’t be good.”

Her phone buzzed again—this time, it was Karina.

Katarina: Don’t panic. We’ll figure this out.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment before typing back.

Y/N: Too late. I’m already panicking.

Katarina: I’ll call you in 5. Just breathe.

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. Things were about to get a lot more complicated.

[jezebelblues]

dress to impress | h.s

summary: in which you're a famous streamer n you finally let harry join one of your streams. (though the evening ends a bit differently than you expected)

cw: smut18+ oral (m receiving), daddy kink if u squint, spitting, fem!reader, unedited

word count: approx 3k

| yes yes i know that dti didn’t come out till last year just pretend 😔 also btw if this is cringe random then pretend i don’t exist fr i got this idea cause caseoh randomly posted a dti update while i was at the gym so thank u caseoh

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

masterlist

December 2021 | London

Snow dusted the window softly, frosting the glass and sending melting droplets downward against the pane, dancing in the direction of the wind. The world was still in the throes of the pandemic, which allowed the lines between professional and personal to blur a bit. 

YN had been a popular streamer for a few years now, but her numbers only grew once her relationship went public with the award winning, globe-trotting man that was Harry Styles. 

She had been avoiding this moment for months. Not because she didn’t want it to happen—oh no, she had definitely wanted Harry to join her on a stream, like a thousand times—but Harry had this way of throwing himself into new situations with such confidence that it was bound to lead to some seriously chaotic results.

But her fans, their fans, had been relentless. Every single time she went live on Twitch, no matter what game she was playing—among us, fortnite, mario world—the chat exploded with one resounding request: Get Harry on the stream!

At first, she’d brush it off with a smile and a laugh, always saying something like, he’s busy in the studio, or, he’s still getting in the hang of gaming, you don’t want to see him struggling on stream, trust me. But by the time December rolled around and the UK was stuck in another lockdown, YN realized she ran out of excuses to give. It was time to bring Harry on camera.

And so, on a cold December evening, she caved.

Harry was sitting in the same room. It was originally supposed to be an office, but since YN’s online career began to take off, it slowly transformed into a streaming room. Three monitors sat on a white desk in front of a large window. The one that sat in the middle showed the view of the stream and chat, while the other two were to be used for whatever.

Harry sat on a small couch in the center of the room, his head against the arm as he lazily scrolled through his phone, completely unaware of the chaos he was about to unleash on the internet. He looked effortlessly perfect, as per usual, in his gray sweats and oversized lavender hoodie, His growing curls were clipped into a tiny bun that sat on top of his head, a pair of brown glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

The glow of the computers illuminated the room as she finished up last minute technical checks, string lights twinkling around the edge of the room for a warmer glow. YN adjusted the camera, smiling brightly as the viewers started to pile in, the chat exploding from the sight of Harry in the background. “So,” she began with a giggle, averting her eyes from the screen to her boyfriend that sat comfortably behind her. “y’ready to join us, lovey?”

He looked up from his phone, his features softening as he shut it off. His eyebrows quirked in that familiar way as he chuckled. “Oh, honey.” He sighed playfully as he stood up, ambling over to the spot behind her chair. “I was born ready.”

“Uh-huh.” She laughed, tilting her head backward to catch a glance from underneath him. “Sure you were.”

He placed a quick kiss against her forehead before he sat in the chair beside her, settling in and staring at the center monitor which revealed the chat that moved in an insane quickness. He leaned over toward YN, shoulders barely touching as he waved at her camera with a wide smile.

She snorted, pushing against her boyfriend as she leaned over to point to the other monitor with a smile. “Look, baby.” She said softly, adjusting the camera that belonged to that computer before pulling up the game roblox. She gently explained to him the set up of the stream, informing him that all he had to do was sit in his space and the chat would see him just fine. 

And they would, it took YN over twenty minutes to set the stream up in a split screen sort of way, which would allow the viewers to see both YN and Harry, and their respective screens for gameplay. 

“Oh.” Harry giggled, as he scrolled throughout the roblox website randomly. His gaze shifted between his screen and the center monitor, reading out whatever messages he could since the chat moved so quickly. He scoffed, shaking his head. “How hard can this be? Look at this!” He laughed, nodding toward his screen.

His girlfriend snorted, shaking her head as she pulled up the game dress to impress. “This isn’t grand theft auto or fifa, I don't think you'll magically be good at this.” She grinned as she leaned over again toward Harry, pulling up the same game on his monitor.

“Oh ye of little faith.” He chuckled as he watched the game load in, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera. “I’ve got this.”

harryfan1: OMG ur kidding i literally knew it

ynfan2: no WAY LMFAO

harryfan2: HES ON 

YN couldn’t help but laugh as she read the chat aloud. “You guys are way too excited for this,” she teased. “Harry’s not that big of a deal.” 

He feigned offense as he looked into the camera with his jaw slack, a huff escaping his lips. “Absolutely bonkers.” He laughed breathily, referring to his girlfriend that sat beside him. He let his shoulders falter as he settled in a bit more, a grin spreading across his lips as the neon lobby of dress to impress loaded in.

YN’s eyes flickered between both the camera and Harry as she explained the premise of the game, smiling at his cocky eye rolls and the flood of heart emojis and keysmashes from the chat that seemed to express a collective internet scream.

“Would you like my help?” YN asked, humor lacing her words as she stared at the theme that flashed over the screen, winter wonderland.

Harry cracked his knuckles, tongue in cheek as he shook his head, darting around the game’s lobby in search for the exact outfit he envisioned. 

She laughed at him, quickly putting on a cute outfit with hair and makeup that went along perfectly. Something elegant, a cream colored warmth. Her smile grew as she glanced at the chat, then to Harry’s screen.

user3: whos gonna tell bro

user4: oh honey…

His avatar was dressed in white, baggy jeans with a puffy winter jacket that had a hawaiian pattern on it. Harry could feel her eyes on him as he placed a santa hat on his avatar for the finishing look. The skin tone of the character was still a default gray, completely bald with no face. His smile began to falter as he looked over toward his girlfriend’s screen. “How’d you do that?” He pleaded, his mouth falling into a frown as he watched the timer go down. “I’ve got no face!”

She laughed again as she showed him how to put hair and makeup on, as well as put an actual skin tone on his little avatar. She couldn’t help but ask what the hell he was envisioning for his outfit.

He grinned as he spun his avatar around the lobby. “She’s wishing for Florida.” He said, pointing toward the screen. “She’s dressed in warm clothes but the patterns show she wishes to be elsewhere.”

user5: this guy has got to stick to writing songs

When the voting started, YN’s outfit was praised by the chat and those in the server—many of whom were fans who were able to join the same lobby.

And then came Harry’s turn.

The second his avatar strut down the runway, there was a moment of lag in the chat before it quickly exploded once more. 

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, pointing at the camera with a snap. “Five stars or m’not releasing the third album.”

YN’s mouth fell agape as she watched Harry place first, watching her boyfriend fold his hands together and shake them in victory as he hummed the tune to as it was. (a tune his fans were completely oblivious to) which only let his smirk grow wider. 

The next theme was royalty, and YN figured this one would be easier for Harry. After all, the man was basically British royalty in his own right. Surely he could nail this one.

But once again, Harry’s choices were questionable, but of course it made complete sense to him in his own mind. 

While YN opted for a pretty gown and tiara, Harry—ever the wildcard—dressed his avatar in what could only be described as a pirate. For royalty.

She stared at his screen, dumbfounded. “H..that’s a pirate.”

“Royalty of the seas, love.” He winked, “captain Styles at your service.”

The chat went ballistic again, loving every second of Harry’s presence on screen.

user6: h pulled out the arrgh 5000s

user7: HARRY PLEASE

They played a few more rounds, with Harry’s outfits growing increasingly outlandish each time, much to the delight of the viewers. The banter between them never let up, and the stream quickly became one of YN’s most popular broadcasts ever.

As the night wore on and the final round came to an end, YN leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. “You guys are so spoiled.” She grinned in the direction of the camera. “I hope you enjoyed.”

Harry nodded, his smile unwavering. “And what did we learn tonight?”

“That this is why you have stylists?”

He scoffed before he muttered out a no, raising a finger like he was about to make a profound statement. “We learned that I am a roblox fashion icon in the making.” 

She burst out laughing again, and this time, she didn’t stop. Her laughter was infectious, and soon Harry was laughing alongside her, neither of them able to take the game—or themselves—too seriously. 

“Well baby, fashion icon or not.” She said, poking her boyfriend’s cheek gently. “I think we all learned this might not be your true calling.”

He gasped in mock offense, swatting her hand away and clutching his chest dramatically. “Rude. Just y’wait—next time I’ll come prepared. I’ll have a roblox fashion strategy ready t’go.” 

She smirked, titling her head in his direction. “Next time, huh?”

He paused with a smile, considering. “It was a bit of fun, but next time it needs to be guitar hero or something. I’ll wipe the floor with you on that one, gorgeous.” 

The chat immediately lit up again, the fans going wild at the thought of Harry in the streams more often than not, especially if he got to show off his musical side. Some were already throwing out more ideas for the future: 

Play minecraft!

Get this man on the sims! 

Releasing an album simulator (but irl) 

YN smiled again, clearly amused by the flood of suggestions. As the stream began to wind down, she and Harry took a few moments to read some of the comments and thank the viewers for tuning in. They said their goodbyes, waving at the camera and promised to do something like this again soon—though YN wasn’t sure if Harry had fully processed just how much the fans would hold him to that.

As she logged off, Harry stood from the chair and stretched his hand above his head with an exaggerated groan, revealing his belly button and the ferns peeking out from the hem of his sweatpants. She rolled the chair in his direction, resting her head against his waist with a content sigh. “Everyone loves you.”

He smiled, letting his hands fall onto her shoulders and rub them gently. “What can I say?” He hummed, a cocky sarcasm laced in his words. 

“You’re impossible.” She whispered against the wrinkled fabric of his hoodie, though the words held no bite. 

“Oh, please.” He laughed, “You enjoyed it, watching me flounder around.”

She shrugged innocently, tilting her head upward so her chin rested against his abdomen, their gaze fixed onto each other. Her smile was lazy as she parted her lips, “It was funny watching you struggle.” 

His breaths caused her head to jut softly back and forth as she continued to lean against him, his fingers running through her hair as he hummed. “Funny huh?” His tone was gentle, delicate, as his fingers ran down from her hair to caress her cheeks, making her shiver. “Y’think its a game to tease me, hm?”

She felt her pulse quicken, a tension settling around them that replaced the previous banter. “I wasn’t teasing.” She said, her voice softer than before, but the hint of a smile still played on her lips.

Harry took the teeniest step back as his hand fell from her cheek to her chin, gripping it ever so slightly. His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, beckoning her mouth open. “No? Cause you’ve been doing it all night.” His voice was low, authoritative, and sent a rush of heat through her. He tutted toward her as he gazed down at her through his eyelashes, wanting her to part her lips a bit wider. His thumb slips into her mouth, the pad of it pressing down against her tongue.

“I think y’like pushing me.” He murmured, his breaths even and slow as he continued to hold her mouth open–which only allowed it to salivate even more. His eyes flickered from her lips to hers, a smile beginning to play upon his lips.

“What should we do about that, hm?” He cooed as he dragged his thumb away from her tongue, wetting her chin as his hand dropped to the side of her neck. Her own salvia glistened in the warm glow of the fairy lights around the room.

Her breath hitched as he bent at the waist, pressing a kiss onto her lips with his hand still cupping her neck. She melted into it, a heat pooling between her thighs as she felt his tongue against hers. His breath was cool with peppermint, his hair the scent of lavender and vanilla. 

They part slowly, strings of saliva snapping from the mutual disconnect. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth as he reaches him, gripping the back of his hoodie’s collar and pulling it off overhead. His chest rises and falls quicker than before as YN’s fingers lightly trace over the ink of the moth of his abdomen, the wings fluttering with every breath. His hands find hers as he pulls it toward the hem of his sweats. “Now,” He sighs heavily, watching her through half-lidded eyes, “be good f’me.”

She nodded as looped her fingers underneath both his sweats and his boxers, tugging them down in one continuing, slow motion until his cock slaps against the skin underneath his belly button. 

Her eyes find his, to which he grabs her chin once again, jerking it to face upward toward him. He leaned down as her lips parted, kissing her hungrily before pulling her bottom lip down gently. “Open.” He muttered, watching as she held her tongue out for him. She watched as his lips curled before spitting onto her tongue, saliva drooling from his lips to pool onto her tongue. 

She could feel her heartbeat in her core as he straightened back up, especially when he combed his digits through her hair and gripped as he reached the crown of her scalp. With her tongue still out, she neared the head of his cock—slick with precum already and the prettiest shade of pink. She swirled around the slit, watching through her eyelashes as his jaw clenched shut, a heavy exhale falling from his nose.

Her lips formed an ‘o’ as she enveloped the tip completely, closing her eyes as she savored the taste of him. She started off slow as she bobbed up and down his length, closing her inner cheeks around his cock with a hum. “Fuck.” He grunted, tightening his grip on her locks as he bucked his hips slightly. YN wrapped her hand around his length as her lips fell from his tip with a wet pop. She spat onto his cock, stroking him as she dipped her head down toward his balls, lapping and gently sucking the skin there, which had him tilt his head back in pleasure. Veins were more prominent in his neck as he groaned, the coil in his belly tightening. “Such a good girl.” He moaned softly as she wrapped her lips around his cock again, taking him deeper, her throat convulsing around the head that swelled with the threat of release. “Taking daddy’s cock so good.”

She hummed again, the reverberation causing his toes to curl against the carpet. He gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail in his fist, guiding her movements as moans continued to fall from his lips. She could feel him begin to twitch in her throat as she gagged on his length, his movements sloppy. She could feel his quickened breaths from the way his lower abdomen fluttered against her forehead. “M’close baby–” He grunted, loosening his grip on her hair only slightly. “W-where.?” He choked out in pleasure, his abs rippling and tensing under the glow of the fairy lights, glistening from sweat. 

She only trailed her hands up his bare thighs, gripping his hips as if to keep him in place. She wanted to taste him, to suck him of every drop entirely. 

His cock pulsed against her tongue as he thrusted once more into her throat, shooting white ropes of come into her mouth with a moan. Her head continued to bob as she swirled her tongue around him, licking every drop of his release to the sound of his whimpers–the prettiest sound she’s ever heard. 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as she parts from his cock, placing a few lazy kisses along his navel with a smile. He swallows hard, brushing strands of hair from her face with a lopsided smile. “I could get use to this.” He teases breathlessly, watching as his girlfriend shrugged his pants back up his long legs with a grin. 

She stood from her chair, pulling Harry into a kiss. His tongue brushes past her lips, his knees weak at the taste of himself mingled with her saliva. She hums against him, cupping his cheek as she parts. “Don’t get use to it, pretty boy. You still sucked.”

He laughed, his cheeks flushing a shade of pink as he shot a haphazard wink toward her. “Actually baby, that was all you.”

[saiddcain]

As someone who joined Tomarrymort Fandom last year, I am curious... what was it like when it was a very rare ship in the 2000s?

Well, it was a different context back then. A different internet. Mind you, I wrote in Portuguese (my native tongue) and posted on fanfiction.net. There was no ao3, only fanfic forums, livejournal and the big one, ff.net. Back in the 2000s, before tumblr exploded and concentrated fandom in its trenches, fanfic itself wasn’t a very known concept. In a way, the Harry Potter series really helped develop the genre and put it on the map in a way that previous fandoms — Buffy, LotR, Star Trek and others — hadn’t. The moment was very auspicious; HP was a global phenomenon and the internet was rising faster than ever. The months, years between the release of the final four books also helped: restless, hundreds of thousands of fans started writing their own versions of the story. I remember when a newspaper in my country published an article about Harry Potter fans and fanfics. They even mentioned Drarry! A breach between “fandom world” and the “real world”. Nowadays “fanfic” is used a slang in my culture (to mean lie, fabricated tale) by people who have no idea where the term came from. Fandom is a known thing and its members are taken seriously as consumers. Entertainment companies are aware of ships, of tropes, even of old men yaoi.

It was different back then. Even within that huge fandom Voldemort/Harry or TomHarry was a small, almost inexistent ship. We didn’t know yet that Harry was Voldemort’s Horcrux — although some fans had already come up with the theory. There was a lot of crack involving Voldemort. Noseless, bald, snake-like Voldy. He was far from the sex symbol he is today. I remember when Ralph Fiennes was cast to play him…

Tom Riddle, on the other hand, was a bit more palatable. If I remember correctly he was shipped mostly with Ginny. A lot of fans were intrigued by him. But many couldn’t see past the unsexy villain he’d become. A lack of handsomeness — that was unforgivable. Especially in an age where Japanese Animation was also a growing hype — compare Voldemort to the bishonen that treaded gracefully the western screens: Itachi, Sesshoumaru, Light Yagami, all those svelte, long-haired beauties. Even Orochimaru, Voldemort’s most obvious anime double, had more style.

I’ve always liked villains. I read the first Harry Potter when I was six or seven and I already liked Voldemort then. Even as a shade, a shape on the back of Quirrell’s head. When he was re-introduced as Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets I knew he would be my favourite ever. Like many other kids I grew up with Harry. But Voldemort was my son, my love, my darling. I started reading fanfic when I was twelve but most of it was anime’s. When I came across Harry Potter fanfic my focus was the Marauders. We had a very thriving community writing in Brazilian Portuguese before we were all colonised by the internet’s Lingua Franca. Both in English (which I started to learn when I was ten) and Portuguese Voldemort/Tom Riddle was a usually side character. Ginny, Bellatrix, obvious self-inserts OCs, Lucius — those were his most common partners.

TomHarry/Harrymort started to appear more, I think, after the release of the fifth book. That connection, that dream sharing, is hard to ignore. I recall an author who’d put Harry through hell through Voldemort’s hands (he was quite the sadist in their depiction). Others wrote him as the tender violator. Some of the tropes that are now popular began to be formed: Dark!Harry, Dumbledore bashing, Light Bashing. A lot of fics depicted Voldemort “rescuing” Harry from the Dursleys, horrified by the abused he suffered.

Not many explored Harry and Tom, but some did. Time travel fics were almost unheard of. A few gems attempted that glorious hardship: Voldemort and Harry being together while staying true to their morals and beliefs. Those were very hard to find and I treasured them.

I think something shifted in the late 2000s/early 2010s. We now knew Harry was Voldemort’s Horcrux. And we had Flayu. Flayu was the first popular, Japanese fanartist to draw TomHarry/Harrymort. We didn’t have the incomparable @shelter-maki0 but we had drawings like this and this and this.

I stayed away from the fandom and from Voldemort/Harry for a long time. After Voldemort died in the seventh book I renounced Harry Potter……my baby was gone and I felt that he was done very dirty in the end. He went out like a Disney villain. No depth. So I don’t know how we moved from a very niche pairing with few fanfics and only one big fanartist to 16,120 fics as I’m writing this. I missed that bridge. The fandom annoys me nowadays because so many works are more of the same. I feel like we used to be more daring back in my day. But that could be just me being a 30+ old man yelling at a cloud. But also:

For all the annoyance the overuse of that trope (and others) causes me, I’m happy this fandom is so much bigger now and so many people enjoy this pairing. When I stumbled on them, many, many years ago, it was like a switch turned on in my brain. Voldemort/Harry makes so much sense it’s insane. I’m glad more people see it, write about it, love them like me.

Hope I didn’t bore you with my (old man’s…) reminiscences. This was a fun ask to answer. Thank you ❤️

[pannman]

What's on your mind

Alastor x telepathic reader

Tw: dark thoughts, mentions of violence, depressed thoughts, angst, overstimulation

You knew it was a bit risky to show up to a new place hoping for salvation. But in Hell you were given a secret gift... it was more like a curse. You heard people's thoughts. Whether you wanted to or not. And being surrounded by all the worst kinds of people and hearing the horrible and nasty things that plagued their minds had turned you antisocial. You rarely exited your apartment.

The plants were your only friends. But one eviction notice from your pervy landlord and you were out on the streets again. He had tripled your rent almost overnight after you rejected him. You trailed through the busy street hearing all the the unholy thoughts of others and you began to get overstimulated. The voices of a thousand sinners filled your head with their dark thoughts and you covered your ears in instinct even though you knew it would do no good

*I want to kill that bastard with his own car*

*I'll slip something skimpy on and while he's cock drunk I'll steal his wallet and then slice his throat*

*I hate myself. I cannot keep doing this. I'm a monster. I deserve to be here. I need to find some drugs. I can't deal with this sober. Fuck my life! I wish death was really the end*

*Steal. Steal. Steal. I want that. I need that! I'll just wait until that guy leaves his store and I'll break the window and take it. I'll stab anyone who gets in my way. I must have it! Steal! STEAL!*

Suddenly you were brought out of your emotional spiral by the tv in the window next to you. "And there you have it. The new and improved Hazbin Hotel is now officially open for business! The princess of hell is now again accepting patrons for her little pet project she calls redemption. I don't know about any of you. But I think she's wasting her fucking time. But she did save hell and her precious daddy gave us a lot of money so here you go. Check out the Hazbin Hotel and check in to start your journey to the gates of Heaven today! Is that good enough? What do you mean the cameras are still on?"

Even though you weren't 100% sure you believed it was possible, the idea of getting out of hell was far too tempting. And you needed somewhere to stay anyway. You rang the doorbell expecting the princess of hell to answer only to see the door opened by a tall well dressed but creepy looking gentleman. You recognized him quickly. He was an overlord named Alastor or also known as the Radio Demon. You didn't know he was going to be there but you tried to pretend like you weren't in shock

"Hello, my name is y/n. I'm here to-" suddenly Alastor swept you away and guided you inside with a hand on your lower back. "Of course my dear! I'm Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you quite a pleasure! Do come in" His thoughts peirced into your brain with a sharp pain and a sound of static

*yet another fool seeking redemption. Or perhaps a sinner with some ulterior motive. I'm sure they won't last long. But it'll be such fun playing with them*

You were unsettled by his thoughts and proceeded to grow more uncomfortable with his touch. You were beginning to change your mind when the hostess of the hotel, the princess herself finally showed. "Oh my gosh! Are you here to join the hotel?" She looked so excited that she looked as if she'd explode any minute

*I hope Alastor doesn't scare this one away as well. He can be so intimidating. I just wanna help them but they never stick around.*

Realizing the princess had genuine intentions unlike anyone you've encountered here, you felt more inclined to stay. The tension in your shoulders began to relax. "Yeah, I'd like to give it a try at least" You answered. "That's great! I'm Charlie! Of course you've met Alastor..."

Once again you were mentally attacked by Alastors thoughts for some reason. You've never felt actual pain from your telepathy before

*Another sucker here to try and fail like the others. This will be fun to watch*

Charlie seemed to notice your distress. "Are you ok?" She asked. You rubbed your temples and tried to drown out the pain. "Yeah, I... I just get headaches sometimes. It's nothing to worry about" you lied.

Charlie introduced you to the rest of the hotel who seemed much less enthusiastic about your arrival. It was very clear they weren't too confident in you sticking around. Their thoughts gave away their true situation. People must have been coming and going ever since they reopened. But still, it was a place to stay. For free. And at least one nice person was there. You liked Charlie. It was a breath of fresh air to hear thoughts that 1. Weren't horrible and 2. Matched the energy and vibe of the person. She was kind and real. That made you believe it couldn't be all bad

But then Alastor of all people offered to show you to your room. You glanced a look of worry at Charlie who was completely distracted and oblivious while talking away to her girlfriend about how excited she was about a new sinner entering the hotel

He chatted away with you the entire way. "So tell me, what makes you so interested in this place? I am rather curious"

*What are their true motivations?*

You responded. "I lost my apartment and I was at a low place. I saw an advertisement on TV and figured what else have I got to loose" you weren't exactly lying. Just leaving out the fact that you can read minds or more that they read themselves to you without your consent. "Oh trust me you still have plenty. You've got your soul and your life. Those things have at least SOME value. Either way, there is no place quite as beautiful and desperate as rock bottom. Yes?"

*I wonder if they can get any lower?*

You were beginning to become better at hiding the migraines Alastor's thoughts were giving you but you were growing exhausted from fighting it. It was like being around him drained you. You grew more tired by the minute. "Yeah I guess so..."

"You must've had a long day. I imagine it's been overwhelming for you. But do not worry. Our beds are quite comfy" he reassured you.

*Comfier than a coffin of course*

You laughed...

"What is so funny?" He asked tilting his head in curiosity as the two of you stopped at your room door. "Uhh. Nothing I just remembered something funny" you lied. "Oh do tell!" He replied. Shit...

"it was really dumb you wouldn't like it" you tried to lie your way out of this. "Oh and you think you know me so well already?" He responded

*I don't know what's up with this sinner but they are definitely hiding something*

Oh no... quick think of something funny. "So I saw this... guy and he... fell out of a window... into... a coffin! And... he fell asleep in it... I don't know why, I just thought it was funny" You felt your heart racing in you chest. Alastor stared at you with scrutiny before smiling wide. "You're right that is quite dumb. But I suppose everyone's humor is different. Anyway, here is your room. Please let me know if there's any way I could make your stay more comfortable." He bought it?

"Yeah... I'll keep that in mind. Thank you" you began to close the door. "One more thing..." He said as you stopped. "Yes?" His thoughts peirced your mind louder than ever before as if he was speaking to you on purpose. The static now making his voice sound straight up demonic. You clutched your head barely being able to withstand the pain

*How long have you been able to read my mind?*

[retireddaddyric]

Secretly Dating

(Requested)

Synopsis: Daniel and (reader) are in a still hidden but established relationship. She’s a streamer and during a live she tells her public who her favorite driver is. And then he comes back to.. celebrate.

Warnings: (REQUESTED) 18+ smut, secret relationship, teasing, age gap (reader is mid-20s, Daniel is mid-30s), dom!Daniel vibes, mild degradation (playful), praise kink, fingering, explicit language, aftercare.

Note: this is all fiction. English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any errors.

I lean back in my gaming chair, stretching my arms over my head with a lazy grin. I cross my bare legs underneath the desk, skin so smooth after yesterday’s waxing session.

The stream’s been live for almost three hours, and the chat’s still flying questions, the usual chaos.

“Okay, okay, last question before I log off,” I laugh, scrolling through the messages. One in particular catches my eye: “You’ve mentioned how much you love F1, who’s your favorite driver?”

A slow smile curls at my lips. I know they don’t know. Not a single soul watching has any idea that while I’m here in a hoodie answering silly chat questions, Daniel Ricciardo might walk through the front door any second. And that this hoodie is his.

I tilt my head, playing it up just a little.

“Oh, that’s easy,” I say sweetly, glancing at the camera. “I really like Daniel Ricciardo. He’s really good. And very handsome too, I’ll say it!”

The chat explodes.

“OMG SAME.”

“DANNY RIC HOT AF.”

“You got taste, girl 👀”

And then another one that makes me laugh: “Girl he’s so old for you, don’t you have daddy issues?”

I laugh but I don’t read it out loud. I just say “Oh come on he’s in his thirties I think, shouldn’t be baaad!”

I grin, bite back the urge to smirk too hard, and end stream with a cheeky wave.

Later, I’m curled up on the couch, scrolling through clips on my phone when the front door opens. I’m still in his hoodie, wearing nothing underneath.

“Baby?” Daniel’s voice is casual, too casual.

I glance over my shoulder. He’s leaning against the doorway, still in jeans and that faded black tee that clings just right to his arms. His hair’s a bit messy. Smirking.

Shit, he definitely heard it.

“You looked good on stream today,” he drawls, strolling in like he owns the place (he kinda does). “That little shoutout to your ‘favorite driver’… very subtle.”

I feel my cheeks heat up. “Oh, that? I was just being honest.”

He steps in front of me, thumb brushing under my chin to tilt my head back so I’m looking up at him. That cocky smile doesn’t waver.

“Very honest, huh?” His voice drops. “Calling me handsome in front of ten thousand people like you don’t moan my name every night?”

“Daniel—” I laugh, but it catches in my throat when he leans in close.

“Tell them how ‘old’ this body is.” He smirks. I laugh but my stomach twists and butterfiels hit everywhere.

“Say it again.” He whispers, his grip at my jaw a little firmer.

“What?”

“Say what you said on stream.” His hand slides into my hair, tugging gently. “C’mon. Just for me this time.”

I swallow hard. “I said… I really like Daniel Ricciardo. He’s really good… and very handsome too.”

He groans low in his throat, lips brushing my ear. “You’ve got no idea what that did to me.”

Suddenly, he’s pulling me to my feet, mouth crashing against mine as he walks me backwards until I’m pressed against the wall. His hands are gripping my waist, sliding under my shirt, pushing it up until it’s gone.

My pulse stutters. He’s never just “a little turned on.” Not when it comes to me. He’s either in control… or devouring.And right now? His eyes are dark.

“What are you gonna do about it?” I ask, my voice breathless.

That’s all it takes. His mouth is on mine in the next second, all tongue and teeth and need. His hands push under the hoodie, fingers finding bare skin, his favorite discovery. He growls.

“You really didn’t wear anything under this?”

I shake my head, smiling against his lips. “Wasn’t planning to.”

“Live on stream?”

“I wasn’t going to stand up!”

“Fuck me.” He grips my hips, lifts me like I weigh nothing, and carries me straight to the kitchen counter. My thighs spread on instinct as he stands between them, hands traveling everywhere: my ass, my waist, the inside of my thigh.

And then “Oh, baby,” he breathes. “You’re soaked.”

His fingers slide between my folds, slow and sure, middle and ring finger stroking up and down before he sinks one inside. I gasp, clutching his biceps as he begins to pump.

“You get this wet talking about me on stream?” he whispers. “Or was this for the idea of me punishing you later?”

“Both,” I admit, moaning when he adds a second finger. He curls them just right, dragging along my walls.

“You’re such a good girl f’me,” he growls. “And such a lil’ tease.”

His thumb finds my clit, circling lazily while his fingers fuck deeper, faster. I arch, mouth falling open. “Danny—fuck—”

“Yeah.. louder baby. Let the neighbors know who your favorite driver really is.”

My whole body clenches. That rough edge in his voice always does it for me. I grind into his hand, hips bucking against his palm.

“There you go,” he praises. “That’s it. Make a mess for me, baby.” He says slapping my clit and pushing back his fingers inside.

It hits hard, sudden and hot. I cry out, gripping his arms, thighs trembling as I come all over his fingers. He keeps going through it, coaxing every last wave out of me.

Before I can even catch my breath, he pulls back, licks his fingers clean with a groan. “You taste like you missed me,” he smiles. “Get on the floor.”

My knees hit tile as I sink in front of him, hands reaching for his belt. He lets me fumble with the buckle, pop the button, drag his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock already thick and hard, leaking at the tip.

I stroke him once, twice, and then take him into my mouth slowly, eyes on his the whole time.

“Fuck, that mouth,” he groans, hand tangling in my hair. “Look at my girl..”

I bob my head, take him deeper, tongue swirling along the underside. He twitches on my tongue, moaning as his hips stutter forward.

I gag a bit and he smiles proudly.

“I’d give anything to let them hear how you like this ‘old’ dick.”

He hits my throat a couple more times.

“Shit..” he says breathlessly. Then shakes his head “..gonna fuck that pretty little pussy now,” he says, pulling me off with a wet pop. “C’mere.”

He lifts me again, like I weight nothing, and lays me flat on the kitchen counter. He pulls the hoodie up to my ribs. His cock slides through my folds, teasing, smearing us both with slick.

“Still wet for me?” he murmurs.

“Always,” I pant.

He pushes in with one smooth, perfect thrust. We both moan.

The stretch is deep. Delicious. Familiar in the best way.

“Sh, sh.” He says softly making circular massages on my hips with his thumbs.

He starts to move, slow at first, deep and steady, each thrust punctuated with a soft grunt, his hands gripping my hips tight. He’s always so caring with me, like he could break me. At least in the beginning.

“You think they’d still call me their favorite,” he pants, “if they saw how I fuck you like this?”

I whimper, back arching. “Fuck, Danny—”

“Bet you want them to know. Bet you’d love to be bent over your gaming chair with the mic still hot.”

I cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Say my name,” he growls, fucking me harder now, relentless. “Louder.”

“Daniel—fuck—Danny—please—”

His thumb finds my clit again and rubs just right. I’m clenching around him, right on the edge again. He uses his other hand to spread my thigh more.

“Come for me,” he demands. “That’s it, baby. Show me who owns this pussy.”

The orgasm rips through me like fire. My whole body tenses and breaks, crying out his name again and again as he fucks me through it.

A few more thrusts and he’s coming too, with a deep groan into my neck. Hot and thick, filling me up as he presses deep and stills. We stay like that for a moment. Just breathing. His forehead rests against mine. One hand strokes my hair back.

“You really are too damn much,” he murmurs. “Say shit like that on stream and then wear nothing under my hoodie?”

I grin, smug and wrecked. “Worked, didn’t it?”

He kisses me again, slower this time. Sweeter.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “I’m putting a mic on you.”

We both laugh.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

MEETINGS, GREETINGS N BREEDINGS (Geto x Choso x Sukuna x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Rockstars!Geto Suguru x Choso Kamo x Sukuna Ryomen x Popstar!Reader

Synopsis: You’re a well-known pop star who has shocked sound waves around the world and stolen the hearts of your fans….including three unlikely, sexy, and tattooed ones that you’re all too familiar with.

One night, your favorite rock band and secret fans come to visit you backstage after one of your shows to confront you about you leaving their concert so soon after sneaking backstage and somehow making them all obsess over you. Even those who aren’t particularly fond of your bubblegum pop music.

Your team won’t be too happy about you spending any time with people who could “destroy” your image, but who gives a fuck when you’re getting laid by three hot rockers? 

Tags: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), Rock Band/Musician AU, No Curse AU, Meet N Greet, Fan/Groupie!Reader, Alcohol + Marijuana, Teasing/Highkey Flirting, Foursome, Pleasure Doms!Geto + Choso x Mean Dom!Sukuna x fsub!Reader, Crushing, Sexual Tension, Dubcon/R*pe, Coercion, Spit Play/Spitting In Mouth, Triple Blowjob, Cunnilingus/Analingus, Anal Play, Triple Stuffing, Riding, Anal Sex, Oral Sex (Giving & Receiving), Public Sex, Exhibitonism, Cum Play, Breeding Kink, Analpie + Creampie, Facial, Caught In The Act

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: I've had this idea for THE LONGEST TIME & I'm so obsessed with Sabrina Carpenter's fine ass that I just needed to write about a Black "girly pop" pop star getting dicked down by her rockstar BF/crushes. I thought this one was hot & I hope y'all do too! -Jazz

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Another night. Another show. Another adoring crowd. 

The sounds of their endless applause and cheering combined with the last few notes of your hit song are like roaring seas in your ears, making your eardrums vibrate and your head swim. You grin with pride down at the thousands of twinkling cellphone lights in the rows of seats like stars in the sky.

“Thank you guys so much!” you shout into your bedazzled mic. “Did everyone have a great time?!” 

The crowd screams with excitement and happiness all for you, dozens of signs and shirts with your face on them facing you. These are the moments that make a two-hour show worth it.

All of the quick changes into your glittery, skimpy outfits. Risking bunions in your heels after dancing across the stage in them. Facing burnout and physical exhaustion show after show. It is all worth it to put on a good show for your adoring fans. 

You suppose it is because you’re a slut for praise. “See you guys next time!” you call, just as the platform you’re standing on lowers you down, down, down from the stage. “Stay safe and come back to see me again! Bye-bye!” You give a final wave and blow a big kiss to the crowd before you are finally off the stage and underneath it instead. 

Then it’s the rush of reality: breaking down the stage props and set-up and hurrying to get to the next location. As soon as you’re off stage, Maki, your assistant, agent, and friend, swoops in with a towel for you to dab your makeup with, setting spray, and an ice cold water in your pink Stanley Cup.

You smile in thanks at her, glad to have something to soothe your parched throat and cool you down. You two walk together to your dressing room as the backstage explodes with activity: dancers, staff, and stagehands all do their best to wrap things up in time for the next stop. 

Tour season is always hectic. It isn’t the most exciting thing in your career due to all of the mental and physical turmoil it can cause, but it’s worth it to wear cute outfits and see your pretty fans. “Soooo that’s show #45 down,” Maki says, checking something off on her iPad as she briskly walks with you in her heels. “Now you just have a Meet n Greet, and then you’ll have some downtime before we have to head out for the next location.” 

You turn to face her, sipping on your water and doing your best to avoid ruining your glitter lipgloss. “How much downtime?” you suspiciously ask. Your agent peers over her black-framed glasses, knowing that you already know that your “break” is on a time crunch as usual. “About fifteen minutes at this point.” 

“Ohhh, Maki, come on!” you whine, rolling your eyes. Maki pauses in the hallway with you, placing a hand on her hip in her black pants, top, and suit. “Look, you knew the drill when you entered this business, Y/N. I’m just trying to keep you on your toes and make things as easy for you as possible as your agent.” 

You scoff at her response, knowing that she is right but still needing to rest your head. “But I need a break! I’ve been on the road for months now with no free time or days off.” You haven’t gotten a serious break in three months now! Breaks are scarce on tour and since you’re making a lot of money with tickets each night when you perform, you know that your manager is hesitant about wasting even a single day that isn’t in a stadium or rehearsing. 

“What’s this I hear about days off?” You and Maki both jump at the sound of your manager’s familiar deep voice. You both turn like kids caught in the cookie jar, staring up at the older man with the sharp suit, glasses, and the stern look that only a dad could have. 

You don’t feel an ounce of discomfort standing with the older man in your glittery, shimmery pink skin-tight mini dress, thigh-high boots, and push-up bra to make your breasts look even juicer than usual. Your manager has been in your corner for four years now, giving you the career you’ve dreamed about since you were young. “Mr. Manager!” Maki exclaims, standing tall and rigid. “Uh….Y/N just feels a little drained from the tour.” 

You roll your eyes at her attempt at softening the blow to appease your manager and her boss. “A little? I can barely find words to speak because I’m so exhausted.” Your manager scoffs, fixing his glasses and shaking his head. “Dramatic as usual.” Despite the small smile on his face, you can tell he isn’t happy to hear this. 

You look at Maki for reassurance, but she is more afraid of losing her job over every little thing, so you know you will have to handle this. But you’re a big girl. You’re not afraid of handling anything in your path. So you clear your throat and dab the sweat off of your forehead before you face your manager. “Mr. Manager, sir, it’s not that I’m not thankful for all of the work you put in for this tour, but—”

“You need a break?” he interrupts, raising an eyebrow at you. It makes your body flush with apprehension. “I thought you got that break the night we were in Tokyo, and you went to see that horrible band that I specifically forbade you from associating with.” He crosses his hairy arms over his chest, keeping that same firm, knowing brow that makes you flush. 

‘He knows!’ you think. You were hoping your manager wouldn’t find out about your little “escapade” last Friday night to downtown Tokyo where you saw your favorite rock/heavy metal band, The Curses.

Comprised of three members in total, you have been a fan of the popular band for over five years now. They only started popping off two years ago and recently won a Grammy for “Best Rock Album” which propelled them deeper into popularity. They are now on tour, starting in Japan before moving onto international countries in two months. 

You know that people looking at you or listening to your girly, bubblegum pop songs wouldn’t suspect that you listen to that hardcore shit. You know that people wouldn’t suspect that you’ve got a thing for the guys with tattoos, piercings, or “don’t give a fuck” attitudes either. But it isn’t your fault! It’s The Curses’ fault for being so goddamn sexy! 

Geto Suguru, the guitarist, Choso Kamo, the bassist, and Sukuna Ryomen, the drummer, take up a good portion of your nights when you are alone. You listen so intently to the way Geto croons against the strings of an electric guitar. Or the way Choso’s sweet yet raspy tones shift into a sheer scream that excites you. Or the way Sukuna’s brash drumming skills rattle your eardrums and make you think about how big those arms are. 

And they are. Each member is so big. So tall. Muscles inked with tattoos and skin adorned in piercings. They are the epitome of “bad boys” according to your manager. Saying that he doesn’t like The Curses or the fact that you’re so infatuated with them are understatements. He’s made arrangements to sit you away from them at award shows. While arranging your tour dates, he scheduled you to perform in places opposite to them. 

Your manager takes your public image very seriously which is important for a star like you. You are well aware that the conservative parents would be on your ass even more if you were engaging with a shit-talking, tatted-up rockstar. “I don’t want you associating with anyone that can tarnish your image, Y/N,” your manager explained to you. “What you do on your own time in private is one thing, but engaging in anything in public is something else!” 

And you realized that he was right. Your image is important to you too, especially when it comes to social media and paparazzi ready to catch you slipping. You’ve been going to clubs and hooking up in private for years now! You’re already very private about what you do, where you go, and who you see…so why stop there? 

So after rehearsals, you kept that same energy last week when you went out on a whim to the venue that The Curses were performing at in downtown Tokyo. You had some downtime and figured you’d enjoy a night of freedom by seeing your favorite band in concert for the first time. You wore a skin-tight workout romper over your pink hoodie and paired it with a baseball cap (to be safe). Because your driver cares about his job, he drove you to the venue and promised to keep things under wraps if anyone asked. 

Seeing the three rockstars wasn’t something you regretted. It was a treat to see the three strum those guitars, bang on those drums, and belt out the lyrics you knew by heart into their mics. It was especially something to see them strip off their shirts, exposing each ripping muscle etched in ink and glistening in sweat. You felt yourself throb and grow hot under your hoodie. You aren’t usually come off too eager for men due to your profession, but for those three? You were ready to sell your soul for a slice of dick from them. 

You felt like the world disappeared around you as you stood in that pit with other adoring fans, none of them recognizing you (as far as you know) and feeling like you were one with the real world as the band played hit after hit. You felt like Choso locked eyes with you a few times and like maybe Sukuna stared into the crowd at you, his intense crimson eyes leaving you speechless, but you suppose that maybe it was the drink in your cup or wishful thinking. 

However, after the show ended and you watched two girls fight over Geto’s sweaty towel that he wiped across his abs before tossing it into the crowd, you made a decision that you immensely regret now: you snuck backstage to see them. You don’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that you were tired of your manager telling you what to do that made you so reckless, but before you knew it, you were signing an autograph for the band’s bodyguards and having them whisk you backstage to meet your faves. 

You took a deep breath and fixed your hair out of its trap in your baseball cap before you knocked on their dressing room. Sukuna, in all of his six-foot something glory, answered the door, still shirtless and in his low-rise jeans. Your brain went blank as your eyes roamed over each ripping muscle, the pierced nipples attached to his massive pecs, and the ‘Look Here’ tattoo inked beneath his belly button to his cut lower stomach pebbled with fine, pink hair that trailed down to his– 

“Helloooo?” he sung, cocking his head to the side. He wore a humorous smirk as he stared down at you, his spiked pink hair looking soft to the touch. “You okay?” 

You swallowed hard, flushing in your hoodie. “Hi!” you chirped a little too loudly. “I-I’m—” 

“Yeah, I know who you are,” he interrupted, still smiling at you. His tongue jutted out to lick his bottom lip and silver lip rings, making you think of him licking something else. “Someone’s gonna bust their nut seein’ you here.” Your eyes widened at his lewd words, your stomach flip-flopping. 

“Who’s at the door, Sukuna?” someone called from inside. Then Geto appeared, just as tall and just as sexy in his loose tank top, enviously long black hair, and ripped jeans. He paused when he saw you, shocked before his expression softened. “Wow, what a surprise. You’re cuter in person, y’know.” He gave you a smile adorned with his lip ring before he called for the third member. “Choso, you’ve got a visitor! A fan, it seems.” 

And then came Choso who wandered out of his bedroom in Kuromi socks and a white tee that did nothing to hide his toned body. He stared at you as if you were a mythical creature, his mascara-rimmed eyes wide. His cheeks went pink like the softest petals on a rose, somewhat making you throb. “Shit,” he breathed. “I could’ve sworn I just smoked too much before the show, but…that was really you in the audience tonight.” 

Geto shared a knowing smile with Sukuna before he stuck his big hand out for you. “Nice to officially meet you, Y/N.” You nearly creamed at the sound of his name escaping his lips. “You too,” you giggled, shaking his hand. You ignored the zip of electricity that shot through your veins as his calloused palm met yours. 

“Listen, I’m sorry to come through so randomly like this, but I was just wondering if I can get an autograph. I’m a fan of yours.” You dug your phone out of your crossbody bag, wanting all three on your phone case, but trying not to come off over excited or eager in the face of your three idols. “Ohhh, the pop princess is a fan of ours?” Geto chuckled, placing his hands on his hips. “What an honor. So you want our autographs, eh?” 

“Only if you give him an autograph too,” Sukuna joked, nodding at a glaring Choso. “What? You’ve been tellin’ us you wanted one for years now!” You nearly combust right there. Choso is a fan of yours? Are the others fans of your music too? 

Geto switched places, leaning his hip against the doorway. “We were just celebratin’ the end of our show. You should come in and hang for a bit with us.” Choso took his place behind the bassist, fidgeting with the tie on his sweats and earning your attention. Especially when it came to the black nail polish on his nails. How would those fingers look sinking inside your–? 

“Unless you’re scared,” Sukuna chuckled, giving you a playful smirk. “I’m sure your circle ain’t filled with guys like us.” As if to make this clear, he slid a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit it up right in front of you, his crimson eyes locked on yours. The way his rings glinted and the black polish on his nails glistened had you ready to drop to your knees and suck his cock right there! 

If this was done to intimate you, it did the exact opposite. It only made you feel more reckless and way more aroused than you were during the show. “Only if you have beer,” you giggled. The members looked shocked at your agreement to stay, but all the more pleased to have you there as Geto let you come inside their dressing room. 

You stayed for about thirty minutes, chatting, drinking, and lowkey flirting with the bandmates. Geto and Choso got into a guitar battle, each one challenging the other to play certain notes as fast as possible on their strings. You just watched, imaging those fingers somewhere else moving just as quickly. As the effects of the beer started to kick in, you felt more open sitting between the three men on the couch. More risky. More flirtatious. 

You giggled at Geto’s jokes. You complimented Choso’s songwriting and ear piercings just to see him blush. You foolishly took Sukuna up on smoking a blunt, giving him the finger when he laughed as you coughed and Choso got you some water to ease your lungs. Once the sexual thoughts started coming and the touches started coming (Choso’s knee brushing yours but not moving away; Sukuna’s hand on your thigh; Geto moving a piece of hair away from your glossy lips), you knew it was time to go. 

You made an excuse about rehearsals being in the morning to which they took no problem. “Let us know what show you got comin’ up before you leave Cali,” Geto said as he walked you outside to your ride. “Maybe we’ll come through and see you perform.” He gave you a one-armed hug at the door, leaving your hoodie drenched in his scent and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke. 

That night, you went back to your condo after successfully dodging paparazzi and used your trusty rose toy on yourself to the thought of those three tattooed studs with Geto’s cologne on the pink hoodie covering your naked body, whimpering out their names as you came two times that night. 

You immensely regret your decisions now as your manager gives you the evil eye. You gape at Maki who quickly puts her hands up in defense. “I-It wasn’t me!” she stammers. Your manager shakes his head disappointedly at you. “You forget I have eyes everywhere, Y/N. How else am I supposed to protect my biggest pop star?” 

Knowing him, he could have bribed your driver. He could have had people at the venue where The Curses were performing. You swallow hard, trying to think of a counter argument or an apology, but your manager cuts you off. “Oh, and not only did you risk your safety and go to a show by yourself, you also went backstage with the assholes, apparently.” 

You scowl at him, alarmed by him knowing this…then you realize it. “You tracked my phone, didn’t you?” you hiss. Your manager blushes, realizing that he’s been caught. He had a habit of doing that to you before and you told him how much you hated it. “You said you’d stop doing that! I’m not a fucking kid!” 

Your manager looks around at the prying eyes, realizing that you were doing this in the hall. “Let’s discuss this in private.”

But you step away from him, enraged, nearly knocking into Maki who quickly takes your Stanley cup in fear of you bashing it across your manager’s head. “No! I understand that I put my safety in jeopardy, and I take full accountability for it, but fuck, I needed a break! And I wanted to see my favorite band, so why couldn’t I?” 

Your manager’s jaw tenses (not a good sign) and he takes his iPhone out. Wordlessly, he taps away on his phone before he shoves it in your face, showing you TMZ’s website…and several photos of you at The Curses’ concert. You walking into the venue. You in the audience. You walking backstage. You hugging Geto outside. 

Oh. So maybe you weren’t as successful as you thought. 

“Your image is already being tarnished with the trashy tabloids catching flicks of you and that band,” your manager huffs. “They’re bad news, Y/N, and you know it. When you agreed to be in this business and signed that dotted line, you agreed to the image WE constructed for YOUR career!” 

You wither at the photos and under your manager’s scrutiny. You feel stupid and embarrassed. All you wanted was a night to yourself and this happens? Maki quickly steps in though and passes your manager’s phone back to him, hiding the photos from view. “She can’t perform if she’s mentally exhausted, Mr. Manager. Just give it some thought.” 

Your manager heaves a sigh and pockets his phone. “Very well. Just go to your dressing room before your Meet N Greet tonight. We can talk about this later.” At the sound of a crash, he quickly excuses himself and hurries off to see what the fuss is about. Maki walks you to your dressing room, tentative yet cautious, not wanting you to pop off or break down. You already feel like glass, vulnerable and transparent. 

She leans against the door and warily watches you as you rip off your boots, plopping down on the couch. “I just got word that the Meet N Greet start time was extended because of a medical issue, so your break time is extended. I’ll come get you when the event starts. Call me if you need anything.” 

You barely look at her as you mutter out a saddened “I’m fine.” She doesn’t push it and instead leaves you to decompress and be alone with your thoughts. You use the next ten minutes to strip, shower, play your soothing music, and fix your makeup for your Meet N Greet in your vanity mirror. You are just applying setting spray when– 

Knock-knock! 

You roll your eyes rimmed in mascara and glitter before you storm over to the door in your pink robe. “Maki, I told you I’m fine,” you groan. But when you open your door, it isn’t your agent standing there at all. Your agent isn’t six foot, beefy and buff, tatted up, or a man with spiked pink hair. “Who the fuck is Maki?” Sukuna grumbles, scowling in confusion at you. 

Choso stands behind his bandmate in his usual black attire, though he ditched the tee for a muscle tee that squeezes his pecs. “Her agent! She was just with us, you dumbass!” he growls. Sukuna turns to the guitarist, glaring daggers at him. “Call me a dumbass again and see what happens.”

Geto in his deadly Sex Pistols crop top and jeans combo luckily steps in before the two can fight. “Stop. We’re not here to fight in front of this cutie’s door. We’re here to congratulate her on her amazing show.” He turns to you with a smile, his handsome face accentuated by his long ponytail. 

You stare up at the three men towering over you, making you feel ten times shorter than you are. You can’t believe it. They’re really here. “Y-You came?” you dumbly ask, your voice soft and whispery. Sukuna and Geto flat out laugh at your response while Choso does his best to stifle his. 

“I was serious about payin’ you a visit,” Geto says with a smile. “You were really good.” You feel your face heat at the compliment, exposing yourself as a praise slut down to the bone. “We’re fans of yours too. ‘Specially him, remember?”

He nods at a blushing Choso who elbows him in the ribs. Sukuuna leans against the doorframe, making you think of a giant with how fucking tall he is.

“That was some outfit you had on at the finale,” he croons in his deep, tantalizing voice. You notice Choso’s eyes roam over your robe, making you feel exposed despite the covering. You feel yourself throb at the idea of them admiring you in your costumes tonight, somewhere in the dark in the audience. 

Despite still being starstruck, you manage to swallow your spit and open your mouth to talk. “T-Thank you,” you stammer. “Um….you guys wanna come in? I’ve got snacks and drinks. Alcohol included.” You open your door wider to reveal the pink walls and plush pillows in your dressing room. “You guys make yourselves at home and I’ve got plenty in the fridge.” 

“R-Really?” Choso stammers, looking like a wide-eyed raccoon with his eyeliner. “You sure it’s okay? We wouldn’t want to–” 

Sukuna silences him by wrapping an arm around his neck, squeezing him into his armpit. “Shut up and get inside, dummy,” he huffs, dragging the bass player into your dressing room.

Geto follows after, giving you a whiff of his cologne as he passes you. All of them smell good: Geto has a hint of vanilla in his cologne while Sukuna smells more like pine and Choso has a sprinkling of orange combined with sandalwood. You want to wrap yourself up in all of these scents and have them stain your clothes. 

As you shut the door, you watch as the three men look around your room, so comically big that they make the room look like one out of a dollhouse. “Cute room,” Geto comments. “It’s fit for a princess.” He glances at you as he says this, making you flush inside of your fluffy robe. “Did Maki send you?” you curiously ask. 

He nods, trailing his finger over one of your pink, plushy pillows on your couch. “She did. Gave us backstage passes and hats too, so nobody would be suspicious.” You make a mental note to thank your agent later.

Sukuna stands over by your kitchenette, his brows narrowed. “Why? You afraid to be seen with us?” Choso and Geto shoot him a glare that says, ‘Shut the fuck up’.

But you don’t take any offense to it, already knowing how hot-headed and aggressive Sukuna can come off. “No way! I just don’t want you guys to get in trouble. My manager isn’t very fond of you.” Sukuna snorts at this, waving off your worry. “Like we give a fuck.” 

“We won’t be here for long,” Geto reassures you, giving you a wink. “We just wanted to check in on you after you bailed on us last Friday night.” 

“Yeah, we were sure you got sick or something,” Choso says, awkwardly standing by your couch as if he has no idea what to do. Sukuna chuckles, taking a banana from the fruit basket on your counter. “Or that you ain’t like us no more.” He begins to peel it right in front of you and eat it, much to Choso’s scathing glare. 

You start to feel guilty for cutting your night so short when you were hoping for so much more…but maybe you can make up for it now. You take a seat on your couch, laughing off their assumptions. “Definitely not that. Sorry I had to leave so soon, but I can make up for it now. I told you I was a fan…and plus, the tattoos help.” You lock eyes with each of them, your tone no doubt flirtatious and suggestive. 

Each of the rockstars take notice of your change in demeanor, suddenly stopping whatever they were doing to give you the attention you desire. Sukuna finishes the banana, tossing the peel into the trash can. “You like tattoos?” he asks, his voice making delicious chills roll down your spine. His crimson blood eyes on you give you a sudden sense of confidence that makes you want to act up. “Mmm-hmm. And drummers.” 

You watch as Sukuna’s eyes widen a bit, taken aback by your boldness, before a smirk stretches across his face. Geto takes a chance and sits down next to you on your left, crossing one long leg over his knee. “Not guitarists? I’m hurt.” He presses a big hand to his heart, right in the middle of his broad, mouth-watering chest. 

Sukuna scoffs, suddenly over near you despite having just been in the kitchenette, and takes a seat on your right, sandwiching you between himself and Geto. “Please. You act like you’re the only one who can play a fuckin’ guitar.” You hum thoughtfully to yourself, looking between the two members’ strong, talented, capable, inked hands. “With fingers like yours, I’m sure you two go head to head.” 

You didn’t mean for that to sound as sexual as it did, but it does and all three take notice of it. The air shifts to something that is tense with a sexual energy that makes you want to strip off your robe and douse yourself in cold water. Geto tosses an arm behind the couch, right behind your head. “We could always show you again, y’know. I’m no sore loser, but I don’t back down easily, either. Especially in front of cute girls.” The way he is looking at you makes you want to melt into the couch, his gaze laced with seduction. 

The only thing that keeps you from possibly jumping on the two members is Choso’s fine ass. “You keep the water in here, right?” he asks, opening your mini fridge. You nod, telling him to help himself, and exposing your little alcohol collection. Choso takes the bottle of tequila out of the fridge, holding it up with a humored smile. 

“What kinda stress are you under to have a bottle of that in your dressin’ room, girl?” Sukuna scoffs with a laugh. You shrug, giggling along with the members. “My manager. Paparazzi. The constant strains of pressure and fame…y’know how it goes.” 

“We should break that open then,” Geto suggests, telling Choso to bring over some paper cups. He does, but brings over some water too, sitting down next to Sukuna with the drinks. “So you think your dad, I mean your manager, would approve of us bein’ in here with his precious little popstar?” Sukuna asks, raising an eyebrow at you. 

You passively shrug as Choso passes you a cup and pours you a shot of the tequila. You can’t bring yourself to care about your manager or your career right now. “Probably not…but he ain’t here right now, is he?” You give each member a sneaky, playful smile. “Plus, this is my dressing room and I can have whoever I want in it.” 

A playful, flirtatious light flickers in Geto’s violet eyes, his handsome face making it almost impossible to look at him. “So you want us here?” he asks, his voice dipping low, so low that it makes your nether regions tremble. Instead of answering and drawing your cards all at once, you raise your cup for a toast. “Cheers to a great show and even greater company,” you chirp. The four of you clink cups because taking a shot of the strong, clear liquid. 

As soon as it slides down your throat, making it sting, and settles in your stomach, you feel a rush of the warmth that you needed to feel tonight. That warmth grows hotter and hotter like a volcano as time ticks by, chatting and lowkey flirting with the band members. You talk about everything under the sun: favorite artists, animals, places you’ve traveled, foods, movies, etc. You laugh over funny stories and discuss what you’d want to do with your career in ten years. 

Suddenly, the band members have been in your dressing room for a half an hour now and you don’t take any notice because of how much you enjoy them being in your presence. And because you’re drunk. You’ve taken too many shots and the tequila is working its wicked ways on you, leading you to strip off your robe and reveal the cropped pink top and teeny, tiny shorts underneath. 

You take no notice of the way the three stare at you, their eyes roaming over your legs and the way your thighs peek out under your skirt. Choso winds up next to you since Sukuna got up to ravage your mini fridge. You reach out to gently stroke Choso’s forearm where a tattoo of his little brother’s face is (Yuji, his name is). “I like your tattoos,” you slur. “They’re so pretty.” 

The bassist's eyes flicker with light while his cheeks grow pink. “Oh, yeah? You said you like tattoos.” His confidence is oozing out now, the both of you acting up off the tequila. You lazily nod, your hand trailing down to his elbow, his skin hot to the touch. “Mmm-hmm. And piercings.” 

“Uh-oh,” Geto chuckles from your left. “Somebody’s a little tipsy.” He sounds far away but near at the same time. Sukuna comes back over with a bottle of chocolate vodka and plops down next to Choso, making the couch shake. “Let’s give her some more. She’s cute when she’s drunk.” He pours you a shot of the vodka, a deviant smirk on his face. 

But then you remember…don’t you have something important to do later? “Oh, I-I shouldn’t—” 

“It’s your dressin’ room, ain’t it?” the drummer interrupts. “You can do whatcha want.” He pauses, stifling a laugh. “Don’t tell me ya let your manager tell ya whatever he wants ya to.”

You flush at his teasing, hesitantly taking the cup from him. The sweet aroma of the chocolate mixed with the strong scent of the vodka stimulates your nostrils. Sukuna grins at you and he suddenly reminds you of the Big Bad Wolf and you’re being seduced to his jaw. 

“A girl like you deserves a break, right?” he chuckles.

Yes. Yes, you do.

So you take the shot. Choso takes it with you, hooking your arms together to down them at the same time. Once the vodka is down, you lean back against the couch to gather yourself, but the couch feels too solid. It’s Geto’s chest. You’re too drunk to be embarrassed about it. 

“So you said you like piercings.” His statement takes a moment to process in your foggy head. Everything sounds muffled. “Mmm-hmm,” you hum against his chest, nodding. His hands come around your front to massage your shoulders and neck, his fingers gentle yet firm. “I bet you do,” he murmurs. “I bet you wanna know how one feels.” 

Confused, you peer up at him, finding that he is already looking at him. His handsome face eclipses the ceiling fan light above you like the moon would the sun. “What do you mean?” you weakly ask. Suguru smiles, slow and seductive, his lip ring glinting at you. “I’ll show you.” 

Before you even realize it, the guitarist is leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It is soft, slow, and tastes like tequila. You moan against his lips, tensing slightly from his unanticipated act, but quickly, you settle into his kiss, melting against the softness of his lips and the coolness of the lip ring pushing against your lips. Strands of his black hair fall from his ponytail, tickling your face.

Then you feel his tongue swirling against yours and with it, the cool metal ball of his tongue piercing. Is that what he meant by “feeling” a piercing? Because if so, you fucking love it. 

As soon as it happens, it ends and Geto pulls away, but not before giving your bottom lip a teasing suck, leaving you wanting more and almost gasping for air. “Choso, you’ve got snake bites, right?” he chuckles, giving the bassist a wink. “She might wanna get a taste of those too.” 

Suddenly, you are sitting up and facing Choso now, his ringed, tattooed fingers interlaced with yours. Your eyes bounce from his black-ringed eyes to his plump lips where those two black studs stare back at you. “You okay with this, love?” he asks. “I don’t wanna do somethin’ you’re not comfortable with–” 

You interrupt him by leaning in and giving each other what you both want, his snakebites pushing against your bottom lip. He moans in surprise at the kiss, but quickly melts into it, his hands moving to grasp your hips. Your fingers toy with his forearms, feeling up the firm muscles, while his pierced tongue toys with yours, swirling and dancing with each other. Heated breaths and soft moans escape your kiss, giving you both the impression that you’re enjoying this. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Sukuna growls impatiently. “I ain’t get my turn yet and neither one of you lowlifes know what the fuck you’re doin’.” Begrudgingly, Choso stops kissing you, his eyes slightly unfocused and dazed with lust.

Suddenly, you find yourself pulled into Sukuna’s lap, your ass on his thighs and his hands wrapped around your waist, one palm squeezing your ass rather possessively. “I’ve got enough piercings for you, princess,” he murmurs before his lips are on yours and his tongue is in your mouth. 

And he does. Other than the two rings hanging from his bottom lip, he has three silver balls pierced in a row in his tongue that feel like ridges against your tongue. His kiss is rough and sloppy, causing saliva to gather between your mouths. You moan into the kiss, your hands caressing his gages and helix piercings, trailing down to his stubbled jaw. The rough strands of his stubble brush against your cheeks, making you envision how they would feel rubbing up against the tender flesh of your thighs. 

“Ooooh, she likes that,” Geto teases, both he and Choso watch you makeout with their drummer. “Poor baby acts like she ain’t been touched in years.” Sukuna chuckles, the scent of tequila and chocolate vodka on his tongue. “Probably not if her manager’s got her under lock and key.” Both hands are grasping your ass now, moving you so you are straddling him. 

“Like the pretty, innocent little thing she is,” Geto sighs from behind you. The compliment makes you flush and want to duck under your bed covers. But Sukuna tsks, disagreeing. 

“Pretty? Yes. Innocent? Hell no. This one’s got slutty written all over her.” His tongue juts out to give your jaw a lick, trailing down to your neck. 

Geto tuts in disapproval even as you softly whine at Sukuna’s tongue working across your skin. “Oh, don’t be so vulgar, ‘Kuna. Sexy would be a better word, don’t you agree, cutie?” You can’t speak. Your mouth is full of cotton and your tongue is heavy. You smell orange blossom in the air and Choso’s hands are on your shoulders. “Is this still okay?” he whispers. “We’re not botherin’ you with this?” 

“Um…” It’s all you can even think to utter. Your mind is foggy and numb, everything sounding like a good idea with the alcohol pumping in your veins. Sukuna laughs, grinning at Choso. “Oh…she’s bothered, but not the way you think. She’s just too shy to ask for what she wants.” 

You feel shame at your body betraying you, hating that Sukuna can feel how wet you are. You can feel it yourself staining your shorts now, soaking through your panties. The drummer tilts your chin up to face his intense, lustful eyes that are laser hot and aimed at you. “What’s up, doll?” he coos. “You want me and my bandmates to play with you tonight and make you sing?” 

Again, you are silent, too drunk and too embarrassed to speak. Sukuna firmly squeezes your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him. “Use your fuckin’ words,” he softly growls. “You want us to fuck you?” 

The air is thick with tension and words left unsaid. The ball is in your court now. You should refuse. You should tell them to leave and be the good popstar that you were groomed to be. But the way your pussy is throbbing with need clouds your judgment. “Yes,” you admit. “I-I want that.” You can physically feel the lust and relief radiating off of the three bandmates. “Then you’ll get it,” Sukuna growls. “Your door locks from the inside, right?” 

And as soon as your door clicks and locks, you are trapped within the four walls of your dressing room with your very drunk, very horny idols. And you couldn’t ask for a better break time. Time seems to move fast and slow at the same time for you. Every kiss that you get from the idols is slow and wanton, but every piece of clothing that falls to the floor is quick and intense. 

You ogle and indulge in your idols’ shirtless upper torsos as their shirts come off before moving onto their shoes, socks, and pants. They strip for you, revealing rippling muscles inked in tattoos, motorboat-worthy pectorales, lickable abs, toned thighs and legs, and grabbable asses. 

“Like whatcha see, cutie?” Geto chuckles. You wordlessly nod, earning a laugh of adoration for your cuteness. 

Then your clothes come off, Sukuna peeling off your bottoms to reveal your pink thong underneath while Choso takes off your top, carefully peeling it off of your head. Sukuna admires your ass and thighs in your thong, his hands drinking in your soft skin smooth with vanilla-scented lotion. “Such a slut,” he groans. “You’ve been dreamin’ of this, haven’t ya?” 

Choso busies himself with your breasts, his hands molding and massaging each one, paying attention to your soft moans. “So pretty,” he murmurs before suckling on one of your hardened nipples. Your moans grow louder, especially when Sukuna begins leaving open-mouthed kisses on your mound. But your sounds are swept up by Geto’s lips when he leans over to kiss you, his pierced tongue swirling with yours. 

Suddenly, moments later, you are trapped between Geto and Sukuna, hands in your hair and a cock against your naked asscheeks only covered by the straps of your soaked thong. You are on your knees between Sukuna’s thick tree-trunk thighs, his hands possessively grasping your face as he kisses you while Geto ruts his hard, girthy, curved cock up against your ass, soft groans leaving his lips. 

“Fuck, cutie pie,” Geto sighs, loving the way his cock, tan like the rest of him, looks between your asscheeks. “You’ve got an ass fit for a stage, you know that, right?” 

SMACK! 

His big hand comes down onto your asscheek, making it sting. “Ah!” you gasp, tearing yourself away from Sukuna’s lips to gasp at the sudden pain. The drummer tsks, scowling at Geto as the guitarist runs a hand across your arched back. “You didn’t do it hard enough. Lemme show you how it’s done.” Then he mirrors Geto, raising his hand and smacking your ass. 

SMACK! 

He hits harder than Geto, causing the sound to ricochet across the dressing room walls. You let out a choked moan as the stinging sensation overcomes you, spreading across your asscheek like a wildfire. He does it again, making your ass jiggle and tears spring into your eyes. But despite the pain, your pussy throbs as if it is a pulsing, throbbing heart in your thong.

“Didn’t that feel good?” Sukuna chuckles, cocking his head at you. His thumbs wipe at your right cheek where a lone tear drop drips down your face. “Aww, what’s with the tears, doll? Did that hurt…or is that poor lil’ pussy desperate for somethin’?” 

Geto moans from behind you, still rutting and grinding his cock up against your panty-covered pussy, making the fabric so wet that it sticks to your lips. “Clearly. She’s rubbin’ up against me…fuckin’ soaking me.” You continue to rub yourself back against his cock, much to Choso’s enjoyment. He watches from the sidelines, his hand in his pants, teasing himself, his face flushed pink at the lewd sight. “C’mon, guys,” he groans. “I’m here too. Stop hogging her.” 

The cock is suddenly torn away from you, depriving you of what you need. “Oh, of course not,” Geto chuckles. “We’ve gotta let the popstar take care of her biggest fan.” He gives your ass another smack and a feeble grab before he lets Choso have you, telling Sukuna to cut it out and let their guitarist have a taste of you now. 

You move onto Choso, admiring his body as he stands before you over the couch, shrugging his pants and briefs down in one swipe. His cock reveals itself to you: pale, veiny, slightly pink at the head, and pierced. Your eyes widen at the silver frenum piercing there in front of your naked eyes, ready to be tasted. Standing up on your knees on the couch cushions, you stare up at a blushing Choso who stares down at you as if you’re a Goddess reincarnated.

“Look at what you do to me,” he murmurs, wrapping a hand around his dick. His balls, smooth and heavy, hang for you, ready to be suckled on. “No one makes me like this but you.”

And then, finally, he is jutting his hips out and sliding his cock in your wet mouth, groaning at the feeling of the wet, plushy insides of your cheeks wrapping around you. 

You begin to suck on him, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks for him, earning soft groans in response to your actions. His cock slides against your tongue, pushing farther to reach your throat, emitting a groan from his soft lips. “Fuck,” he swears, his breath hitched on the word. “Now would you look at that,” Geto whistles. “So eager. “Y’know, you suck almost as good as you sing and dance, cutie pie.” 

Zzzziiiip. Suddenly, he’s standing next to Choso with his thick cock in your face, jutting from a nest of neat, black curls and a mouth-watering happy trail. 

He smirks at you with his bandmate’s dick in your mouth, loving how slutty you look. “Think you can take me too, cutie? I’m a little bigger than that sparkly mic you use, but I think you can manage two dicks, can’t you?”

Choso’s cock slides out of your mouth and is quickly replaced with Geto’s, filling your throat up and slowly fucking it as if it is no more than a toy for his consumption. You stroke Choso’s cock with one free hand, allowing him to fuck your fist while Geto busies himself inside of your mouth, his hand clasped in your hair. 

And then another cock appears in your peripheral vision, right next to Choso. This one is girthier and curves downward, the pink head dripping in pre-cum and pierced at the tip. “Make that three,” Sukuna growls, pushing his cock up against your soft cheek. “Don’t leave me outta of this. You wanted us and now you’ve fuckin’ got us.”

Geto slides himself out of your mouth and Sukuna’s cock pushes itself between your lips, forcing itself into your mouth. “Just ‘cause you’re some big star don’t mean you get to be pampered,” he grunts, hissing at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth enveloping him.  

Sukuna is much rougher with you, gripping your hair and pounding his cock into your mouth, causing his balls to swing and slap against your chin. “The biggest pop star in the game on her knees with three dicks in her face.” He pauses, laughing to himself. “What a headliner! Do you realize how lucky you are right now, dollface?” He pulls out of your mouth with a groan, a string of spit connecting from his cock head to your bottom lip. “Open your mouth,” he demands. You do so and he leans down to spit between your lips. He doesn’t need to tell you what to do with it. As if programmed for it, you spit his saliva back onto his cock and slurp it back up into your mouth, earning aroused groans from the three members. 

For the next few minutes, your mouth is used as their personal fleshlight, only used to stimulate and please them. When one cock goes out, another goes in, filling your sloppy throat and fucking it, damn near causing you to gag. Their dicks reach the back of your throat, causing tears to well up in your eyes and drip down your face, ruining your makeup and leaving traces of mascara and glitter. 

As they fuck your mouth with abandon, you rub yourself against the couch cushions, grinding your cunt against them for relief. The more you suck, the hornier you get, your pussy gushing and creaming in your panties. Sukuna notices and smiles wolfishly. “You good, doll? Those hips are movin’ around an awful lot.”

He taps his cock against your tongue. Tap-tap-tap. “Needy slut. Ya need some help with that?” 

You don’t even have to say yes. They already know from the swirl of your hips. Your body can no longer control itself. Suddenly, you are being bent over onto all fours while Geto and Sukuna kneel behind you.

“You take care of her mouth, Choso,” Geto murmurs, his hand stroking your ass. “We’ll take care of your girl back here.” Sukuna cuts him a glare that could kill, but Geto ignores it. “She’s got two holes for a reason,” he chuckles. 

In the blink of an eye, you have those two holes filled with skillful, pierced tongues while Choso fucks your mouth off its hinges. You have never felt as used as you do now, on all fours with your back arched and two tongues fucking your holes. Sukuna sloppily eats your cunt, sucking on your pussy lips and clit, while Geto pries your asscheeks apart, spitting into your hole before slurping it back up. 

You squirm and writhe with every movement, doing your best to keep your mouth latched around Choso’s cock even as you moan and whine from every spark of electric, explosive pleasure that enters your core.

“Oooh, she’s a squirmer,” Geto laughs against your hole. “Does it feel that good, cutie?” Sukuna growls against your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your body that make you tremble. “Hold her down. She’s not gonna do fuck-shit when I’m back here.” 

Geto obliges and firmly holds your thighs while Sukuna grabs hold of your ankles, pinning them to the cushions. Now you can’t move and you’re forced to take every tongue lashing they give you, their moans traveling into the very tips of your toes and fingers. Lewd, sloppy, wet sounds travel through the air from the tongue fucking you’re receiving and your wet lips wrapped around Choso’s dick. 

You can feel yourself reaching the end, your holes becoming too sensitive the wetter they become. You scream around Choso’s cock, causing vibrations to travel from his balls all the way up to his head that plunges deep into your throat. “God!” he gasps. “L-Love…fuck, you’re gonna make me cum! I-I’m gonna…gonna–” 

Knock, knock, knock! 

“Y/N!” Maki calls through the door. “The Meet N Greet starts in fifteen! I came to get you!” You swear you’ve never felt such fear. Choso instantly pulls out of your mouth while Geto and Sukuna cease in their lingus. “Shit!” the band cuss in unison. 

You press your finger to your lips, silencing them. You need to handle this if you want to finish what you started. “Y/N?” Maki calls again and knocks, causing you to jump. “Are you asleep?” 

You quickly clear your throat, preparing a lie. “U-Uh, I’m up!” you call, doing your damnedest to sound normal and like you’re not engaging in a foursome right now. “I’ll be out soon, Maki. I’m just fixing my makeup and hair right now. Come get me in five.” 

Maki makes a hum of uncertainty, but gives in regardless. “Okay, but you’d better be ready because Mr. Manager is already high strung tonight.” And then she’s walking away, her heels clicking down the hall. You release the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, thanking a higher power for their blessing. 

You then turn your attention back to your idols, raising an eyebrow. “Think you guys can cum in under fifteen minutes?” you ask. The three men smile, overjoyed that you still want to end this night with a nut. “You got any lube hidin’ in here?” Sukuna asks, giving your pussy a harsh smack that makes a high-pitched whine escape you. 

After finding your secret stash of sex toys (rose toy, vibrator, and cherry-flavored lube) in your Hello Kitty duffle bag, Sukuna squirts some lube onto his fingers and proceeds to rub it along your asshole while you’re on all fours on the carpeted floor, shivering and whimpering from the cold substance.

He gently probes your ass with one finger, paying close attention to the way you whine and arch your back like a cat in heat, his cock growing harder at the sights and sounds of you. For extra lubrication and stimulation, he pries your asscheeks apart and sticks his tongue in, slurping at your asshole and spitting in it, telling you how cute you are back there and how can’t wait to stretch you out so no other man can even compare. 

After you apply some lube to his cock, Geto gently pulls you down onto the floor with you in his lap, straddling his toned stomach and rubbing his cock against your sobbing wet pussy lips. “Just look at me, okay, cutie? I wanna see your face when you take all three of us.” His violet eyes stare deep into yours despite turning into slits as soon as his cock sinks deep inside of your pussy, causing you both to moan and for your nails to sink into his chest. 

Choso stands above you, stroking his cock to the image of you bouncing on his bandmate’s dick, cheeks flushed and eyes hopeful for his chance to fuck your throat again. Sukuna stays in his place behind you, rubbing his cock up and down your asscheeks. “Bet you’ve been dreamin’ of this,” he grunts. “All of us fucking you dumb. Haven’t you?” 

Rapid puffs and huffs of air leave your lips as Geto bounces you up and down, causing the sound of skin slapping against skin to drift into the air as your ass comes down onto his thick, muscular thighs. “Y-Yes,” you weakly moan. “Couldn’t…oh, fuck…couldn’t help it!”

Geto’s cock feels too good for words. Every time it brushes against the wet, gummy walls of your cunt, stretching you out, and your internal clit is stimulated, your mind grows blank and nothing else matters. 

“Be gentle with her,” Choso orders. “She has her Meet N Greet soon.” Even as he says this, he rubs his cock against your soft cheek, causing you to turn to gently suckle on the head. Geto grins at him, his handsome face etched in pleasure from your wonderful, tight, wet pussy wrapped around him. “Don’t worry, Cho; we’ll make sure she can still walk by the time we’re done with her.” 

But Sukuna is less optimistic or supportive. “No promises,” he cackles. “Not that she’s complainin’ about it. Now can you two shut up and fuck her already?” Choso obliges by sticking his cock farther into your mouth, once again filling it, making your lips stretch around his shaft.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “You feel so fuckin’ good.” He proceeds to fuck you in time with Geto, wrapping a hand around the back of your head to keep you still. 

“Keep that mouth busy, Choso,” Sukuna orders. “Brace yourself, doll. You’re gonna feel a little full.” He gives your ear a teasing lick before he lines himself up and slowly sinks his cock into your asshole. Inch by inch. Second by inch. ‘Full’ isn’t even the right word to use to describe how you feel when he slides his cock in the tight rim of your asshole. You have never felt like this before. 

It takes a moment to adjust and surprisingly, Sukuna allows you that time by pausing and slowing his movements, paying attention to your body language. But once you’re finally loosened up, your holes practically melt around the three cocks fucking them, back to back, al at once pounding you senseless. “Easy, baby,” Geto coos. “Just relax, we’ve gotchu. Just let us fuck you…let us make you feel real good.” 

The sounds of their moans, grunts, and swears of pleasure drift through the air like cigarette smoke, traveling up the ceiling and bouncing off of the walls. Your holes become sloppy from the spit, lube, and pre-cum entering them, making them easier to fuck. You are used as if you are no more than a fuck toy. A fleshlight. A sex doll. You can’t get enough of it, arching your back and shoving your jiggling breasts into Geto’s face which he happily sucks on. 

“Ah, fuck!” Choso groans, his eyes squeezed tight from the pleasure. “Fuck, baby, that feels so good!” 

“So fuckin’ good,” Geto moans. “Don’t, ah, let this go to your head, oh, fuck, but your pussy is the best I’ve ever had.”

Sukuna leans over to whisper in your ear, giving you deep, long strokes that have you crooning and whining around Choso’s cock. “How’s it feel gettin’ your holes pounded by some rock stars, huh, babydoll?” he gruffly asks. “Is it everything your slutty ass thought it’d be?” 

As if saying yes, your throat flexes and latches tight around Choso’s cock, nearly making him bust right there. “Fuck, whatever you two just did, do it again!” he whines. “Her throat just got tighter!” 

Geto places his big hands on your ass and proceeds to drill himself up into you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars over and over again. “C’mon, cutie, work for our cum,” he pants. “Make yourself cum all over this cock. You can do it.” Combined with his pounding, Sukuna’s deep dicking, and Choso’s moans as he fucks your mouth, you have no choice in the matter anymore. 

You don’t even realize you’re screaming until Choso’s cock slips out of your mouth.“Oh, my God!” you moan, loud enough for anyone outside of your dressing room to hear. “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna fucking cum!” Your screams of pleasure continue to escape your mouth, growing more and more needy, desperate, and wild the closer you get to cumming. 

You don’t even hear the sounds of knocks at the door over the sound of sex. “Y/N?!” Maki yells outside your door. “What’s going on? Open the door!” 

You don’t hear her or the door knob jiggling. You only hear your idols’ salacious moans and Geto’s sweet voice in your ear. “Give it to us, baby,” he whispers. “Give us all that cum and take those loads. You’re such a good girl.” The three go faster and rougher, pounding you senseless, ruining your makeup and hair as Sukuna pulls on your locks and Choso fucks your mouth so roughly that the tears dripping from your eyes ruins your foundation. 

The knocks on the door become louder, booming against the wood. “Y/N!” your manager shouts. “Open the door! Y/N, who’s in there with you?!” 

And then finally, with a needy whine that nearly makes your throat hoarse, you finally spill your cum all over Geto’s cock, squeezing him for dear life as you try to drain every ounce of his nut out of him. Your orgasm triggers the band members’ and soon, they are finally cumming for you too. “Cumming!” Choso moans. “I’m…gonna…fucking…” 

Suddenly, all three of the sexy, tatted, pierced up rockstars shoot every ounce of their creamy loads in every single one of the holes they occupy. Geto grips your hips and screws his handsome face up, sweat trickling down his neck as he cums deep inside of your pussy, causing your thighs to become sticky and wet with the substance. 

With a guttural moan and every single cuss word known to man, Sukuna grips your ass hard enough to leave bruises as he shoots his load into your ass, filling the tight hole up with his spunk before pulling out to rub the rest onto your asscheeks. Choso chooses your face to cum on, pulling out and quickly fucking his fist before ropes of white cum spurt out of his pierced cockhead, coating your lips, cheeks, and tits in the sticky, wet substance. 

You are completely and totally covered with their cum by the time your dressing room door is forced open. Your head swivels around to face your agent, your manager, and the two big, burly security guards that they got to break in your door. “Oh, my God!” Maki shouts, dropping her iPad in shock. She and the others’ faces are etched in shock and horror as they are met with the sight of you and The Curses completely naked with the dressing room smelling of sex. 

A beat of awkward silence extends in the tense, cum-and-lube-scented room before the band members each let out a laugh. “Don’t worry, Mr. Manager, sir,” Geto chuckles, gently stroking your ass. “We were just leaving. We just had to help out your little star.” 

Gently, he and Sukuna pull out of your holes with matching groans, causing their cum to ooze out of your pussy and ass down your thighs. As they quickly get dressed, Choso gently lies you down on the couch and passes you some tissues for your face. “Just relax, love,” he coos. “You did so well. Here, let’s get you covered.” He passes you your robe and helps you dress in it, even tying it for you. 

After he gives you a chaste kiss on the lips and gathers his clothes, Geto leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Good luck tonight, cutie,” he murmurs. “We had so much fun with you tonight. Give us a call when you’re in Cali again~” 

Then it’s Sukuna’s turn. “Sorry for the mess,” he jokes to your team, shirtless with his jeans sagging low. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips, nipping at your bottom lip, his crimson eyes filled with mirth. “Oh, and thanks for the souvenir, dollface. See ya around.” 

And then, just like that, your idols are gone, swiftly rushing past your manager, Maki, and security still standing there in shock. When you finally find your brain and check your robe pocket, there, in your palm, is a note scribbled in Choso’s handwriting are three phone numbers: his, Geto’s, and Sukuna’s. 

“Y-Y/N,” your manager stammers. “What in the hell happened here?” 

You quickly hide the note back in your pocket and smile, giddy and your heart skipping like a schoolgirl’s even as your holes are oozing with cum and your pretty makeup is fucked up.

“Just a Meet N Greet,” you jokingly reply. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to shower for my fans.” Then you quickly rise onto your wobbly legs and walk to the bathroom, grinning as you do. 

THE END.

[lazysoulwriter]

monaco madness - pedro pascal.

Pedro had always known you were obsessed with Formula 1. The kind of obsessed where Sunday plans revolved around race schedules, where you angry muttered driver names in your sleep, and where he once caught you watching an onboard camera video from 2008 just for fun.

So, when he suggested going to Monaco for the Grand Prix, it wasn’t just because of the glitz, the yachts, or the allure of Monte Carlo. It was because he loved seeing you in your element.

What he hadn't expected was to get completely sucked into it himself.

-

From the moment you stepped onto the circuit, decked out in Ferrari red, you were practically vibrating with excitement. The roaring sound of engines in the background made your eyes light up in a way that had Pedro smiling like an idiot.

“You’re going to explode,” he teased, tightening his grip on your waist as the two of you made your way to your seats.

“I might.” You turned to him, grinning, adjusting your sunglasses. “Do you even understand what’s about to happen?”

Pedro scoffed. “I understand that cars go fast.”

You snorted. “Wow, expert analysis. Maybe they should hire you for commentary.”

“I’d do great,” he said smugly. “I’d just point at the screen and go, ‘Look at that one. He’s winning.’”

You rolled your eyes, looping your arms around his neck. “You are so lucky you’re pretty.”

“I am pretty,” he agreed, leaning down to steal a quick kiss before you could pull away.

“Pedro!” you scolded, laughing against his lips. “We don’t have time for this! The race is about to start!”

Pedro groaned dramatically but let you go, watching as you practically bounced in your seat.

The cars lined up, the lights went out, and the moment the engines roared to life, you grabbed his hand without even thinking. Pedro barely had time to process the chaos before you were on your feet, screaming alongside thousands of other Ferrari fans.

“GO, GO, GO!”

Pedro had never seen you like this. Eyes wide, face glowing, shouting in frustration when someone overtook a Ferrari like they had personally offended you.

“Are you serious? That’s a penalty!” you cried, throwing your hands up.

Pedro leaned in, amused. “I have no idea what that means, but I love how angry you are.”

Before you could reply, a Ferrari made a daring overtake, nearly brushing the wall. The entire grandstand erupted, and Pedro felt something shift inside him. A thrill ran up his spine, and suddenly, he got it. The speed, the tension, the sheer insanity of it all. His fingers gripped the railing, and before he could stop himself, he was shouting,

“OH, SHIT! THAT WAS INSANE! FORZA FERRARI!”

You whipped your head toward him, stunned. “Wait. Are you—Are you into it now?”

Pedro ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. “I think I just saw God.”

You burst into laughter, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him full on the mouth. “Welcome to the dark side, tifoso.”

For the rest of the race, Pedro was in it. He booed strategy calls, cursed at pit stops that took too long, and even found himself gripping your thigh when things got too tense. Every time Ferrari made a move, you both jumped out of your seats, yelling like lunatics.

At one point, he turned to you, slightly out of breath. “I swear to God, if we don’t win, I’m—”

“You’re what?” you challenged, grinning.

Pedro narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know yet, but it won’t be pretty.”

You laughed, pulling him down for another quick kiss. “You’re so dramatic.”

He smiled against your lips. “And yet you love me.”

When the checkered flag finally waved, Pedro collapsed into his seat, exhaling like he’d just competed in the race himself. You giggled, straddling his lap, running your fingers through his hair.

“So?” you asked, tilting your head. “Worth it?”

Pedro smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “I’m never missing a race again.”

You grinned. “That’s my baby.”

And just like that, Monaco had gained another die-hard Ferrari fan.

---

requested! loved thissss.