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imaginedisish · 20 days

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My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly.

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend.

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time.

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy.

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep.

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt—which is really his.

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time.

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses.

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back.

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.”

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body.

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him.

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him.

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.”

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs.

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands.

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan.

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face.

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot.

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully.

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?”

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off.

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you.

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow.

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response.

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.”

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little.

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder.

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand.

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail.

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge.

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration.

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer.

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door.

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.”

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious.

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts.

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom.

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together.

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience.

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together.

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls.

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again.

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold.

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?”

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood.

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?”

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours.

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand.

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him.

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you.

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?”

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!”

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down.

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension.

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of.

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him.

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts.

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.”

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb.

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud.

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds.

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead.

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?”

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace.

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish.

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours.

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust.

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.”

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s.

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened.

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice.

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly.

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

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sashi-ya · 1 month

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𝘗𝘙𝘈𝘕𝘒𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘔 𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 "𝘔𝘠 𝘗𝘌𝘙𝘐𝘖𝘋 𝘐𝘚 𝘓𝘈𝘛𝘌" one piece edition headcanons ⟢ law, zoro, ace & shanks

tw: mdni. suggestive language. pregnancy desires mentioned. cream pie implied. on a serious note, do not play this prank to your real life lovers, please. wait for a bleach and kaiju 8 version, too.

𝐋𝐀𝐖

No medical knowledge is enough for him to justify your lack of a period. Every possible cause stated at the same time inside his head, every cause but pregnancy… Completely in silence, that’s how he stayed the very first minutes after your told him. His cheeks lacked redness; his whole skin turned pale. Legs becoming weak, insides falling into a jail of anxiety.

A silence hug, that’s all he is able to do after who knows how many minutes. His nose buries on the crook of your neck, his hands fall slowly around your waist, hanging lifelessly into the small of your back… “I have no idea what is happening right now, but I promise I’ll be here forever…”

For a moment you wish that wasn’t just a prank but reality, just for a moment you stood there… quiet, kissing the crown of his head… You couldn’t laugh at that moment, not at all.

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎

“Zoro, I’m late” . “Huh? Where to? hurry up!”. “With my period???!”. “Tell your period to hurry up, then”

Zoro has no idea. Too sleepy to understand anyway. You explain, in the most simple words you could find until he finally understood.

He stood up. Shook the sleepiness off and walked towards you. For the very first time, his katana were left on the floor; Wado Ichimonji stopped being important.

“You are lying. I smell blood on you. But since you want it so bad, then, let me make that period real, real, real late…”

The next thing you knew, it was him carrying you like a sack of potatoes on his muscular shoulder to the room. Oh, when the King of Hell says it’s time… you better be prepared… 🙊

𝐀𝐂𝐄

“WHAT? ME????? A FATHER?????”. “Most probably, I told you should use protection …”

“No, but you- YOU TOLD ME? YOU- NEVER MIND I DON’T CARE. MARCO!! POPS! IZOU! I MUST CALL LUFFY!!! OI!!!” . “ACE, ACE!! STOP!”

Ace couldn’t hold the excitement. You were unsure if that prank would be a good thing to do… after all, Ace hated his own blood… however, that reaction took you off guard. He ran through the Moby Dick, with cheeks as full of freckles as red from happiness. Orange hat flowing with the wind of such huge ship, the sound of his boots echoing with his steps.

“ACE, IT WAS JUST A PRANK! STOP!”

He stopped. Black locks curling with the breeze of the main deck. “I guess it’s better that way… after all, I am sure that baby might run the same fa-“ Ace suddenly felt trap of his own past once again, but your arms surrounded his frame to stop it.

“Shut up, or I’ll rip those freckles off you! now, get me pregnant. Right now”

“If you ask it that way, then I have no other choice miss…”

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒

“do have you any idea how many women have told me that before?”

“don’t be a prick, shanks…” you mutter, you were fuming. That prank seemed to only show how much of a womanizer this man really is.

He walked towards you; red hair, as the blood that runs through your veins and your heart pumps, playfully danced on his forehead. His intense eyes, fixed on yours, made you weak, unable to breath properly.

“I know it’s a prank, do you think I wouldn’t tell? You aren’t made for lying, love… I just wanted a little revenge, you shouldn’t make my heart stop that way… you know how much I want it to be true, (Name)?” he whispers, grabbing you from your chin.

Lips crashed against yours; you couldn’t argue, you couldn’t protest… that man rules over you, and if he wants you pregnant, then… he will make it happen.

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #law headcanons #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro headcanons #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace headcanons #shanks x reader #shanks headcanons #shanks #trafalgar law #roronoa zoro #portgas d ace

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shinynewmemories · 3 months

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The exchange between Peeta and Gale in Tigris's basement used to be my least favorite scene in the entire book. I hated how it made Katniss out to be a heartless drone whose only motivation is survival. But I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and I'm now convinced I grossly misinterpreted the purpose of the passage the first times I read it. I don't think it's about Gale revealing some sage wisdom about Katniss; I think it's a revelation about how far gone Katniss and Gale's relationship truly is, and how little he understands the way she loves. AND it's about how much better Peeta understands Katniss, even in his half-hijacked state. Let me break it apart a tad to explain what I mean:

“She loves you, you know,” says Peeta. “She as good as told me after they whipped you.”

Peeta is correct on both counts. Katniss DOES love Gale, and in CF, she internally refers back to the whipping as the moment she "chose" Gale over Peeta. Peeta knew it then, and he knows it now.

“Don’t believe it,” Gale answers. “The way she kissed you in the Quarter Quell... well, she never kissed me like that.”

Correct, but it's interesting that Gale refers to THAT moment on the beach as proof that Katniss loves Peeta. Because on one hand, that WAS the first time she felt and displayed sexual desire for anyone. But on the other hand, I would argue that there was lots more evidence for Katniss's love for Peeta; "anyone paying attention" could see it. So why does Gale point to the one time things got hot and heavy between them?

“It was just part of the show,” Peeta tells him, although there’s an edge of doubt in his voice.

Incorrect, but I'll give him half credit for the "edge of doubt" in his voice.

“No, you won her over. Gave up everything for her. Maybe that’s the only way to convince her you love her.”

Here's where Gale starts talking kinda crazy. Since when has the issue been convincing KATNISS that HE (or Peeta) loved HER? Since the end of book 1, there has never been the slightest doubt in Katniss's mind that Peeta loved her. And she's never doubted Gale's love, although she admits it caught her off guard. Does Gale actually think that if Katniss could just SEE how much he loves her, she'd have no choice but to marry him? Or does he think Katniss is holding back because he hasn't "given up everything" for her? Either way, he paints Katniss as a fundamentally untrusting and self-centered person.

Also, he implies that Katniss needs to be "won over", that she needs to be PERSUADED to love either of them... Yikes. It's like he actually believes Katniss doesn't have the emotional capabilities of falling in love all on her own.

There’s a long pause. “I should have volunteered to take your place in the first Games. Protected her then.”

Incorrect! Over to Peeta for an explanation of why that would have been a Colossally Stupid idea:

“You couldn’t,” says Peeta. “She’d never have forgiven you. You had to take care of her family. They matter more to her than her life.”

DING DING DING DING! I just picture Peeta making a ????????no??? face as Gale says he should have volunteered for him. Like?? Can you IMAGINE? Book 1 Katniss would have been screaming at Gale like "you absolute IDIOT. WHY would you throw your life and the lives of your and/or my family away. And for WHAT? MORON."

But I get it. Gale is saying this out of desperation. Because he can't say "I wish you had died in those games" (although perhaps that is how he's felt once or twice). And to be fair, if Peeta had never been in those games with Katniss, things between them now would be very... different. (shhhhh Gale doesn't have to know about the whole "this would've happened anyway" thing)

“Well, it won’t be an issue much longer. I think it’s unlikely all three of us will be alive at the end of the war. And if we are, I guess it’s Katniss’s problem. Who to choose.” Gale yawns. “We should get some sleep.”

Correct, nothing to object to here.

“Yeah.” I hear Peeta’s handcuffs slide down the support as he settles in. “I wonder how she’ll make up her mind.”

Even though Peeta is more in sync with Katniss, he doesn't presume to know how her romantic side works. Gotta respect that.

“Oh, that I do know.” I can just catch Gale’s last words through the layer of fur. “Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can’t survive without.”

So I ask: if Gale is shown throughout this exchange to be mostly wrong about Katniss's motivations, desires, and possibly her whole personality, why would we believe he's correct about this?? I think the only conclusion is that he's NOT.

I'll end by adding Katniss's opinion about Gale's assertion:

It’s a horrible thing for Gale to say, for Peeta not to refute. Especially when every emotion I have has been taken and exploited by the Capitol or the rebels.

Katniss is DEEPLY hurt by what Gale said. And I no longer believe it's because it's the truth about HER. I think it's because it's the truth about how Gale sees her, and he sees her in a very hurtful (albeit incorrect) way.

#thg #everlark #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #gale hawthorne #mockingjay

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virahaus · 5 months

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Another day, another time to debunk shitty takes I see online.

I've seen a multiple of people pointing out that "we don't know anything about Tommy" and how could people ship him with Buck (nevermind that the ship is canon and always will remain so) when we know so little about him?

First of all, I'd actually make a point to say that we as of now already know more about him then all the other LI that Buck or Eddie ever had in the show.

I shall make you a list, so that you may remember it more easily:

- He likes cars and he's a good mechanic (extrapolated by the fact that Eddie explicitly said that fixed/improved his engine)

- He likes playing basketball and he's also quite competitive ("we'll make short work of them" said in reference of Buck and Chim)

- He's sarcastic (the closet line)

- His favourite film is "Love, Actually"

- He loves Monster Truck and Craft Beer, and MMA

- He has a big scar on his chest and it came from a fire in a factory

- He's a very skilled pilot, able to manoeuvre in a hurrican, and doesn't waver in the face of danger

- He likes watching and practicing Muay Thai

- He was a pilot in the army

- He only came out when he started working in Harbor, but prefers not to publicise his sexuality

- He doesn't like Bella Swan (and it's implied he might like Jacob more) and he watched the Twilight movies

- He likes to drive his friends to events

- He has friends that can get him high up tickets for shows in Vegas

- He has permission to fly airplanes for personal reasons when he's not on the clock

- He likes to be helpful and he's thoughtful (driving Eddie to check out his sprain, going to Buck's to clear out the air without prompt, immediately agreeing in helping the 118 with the whole ship operation, trying to get Buck to be at ease on their date)

- He's loyal (he didn't rat the others out when the chief called on their way to Bobby)

- He's a smooth flirt

- He can do a mean mouth static (at least in his opinion)

- He pays the bill on first dates

- He is very much the definition of carpe diem (kissing buck was very much shooting his shot)

- He checks for consent

- He kept contact with Chim ever after he left the 118

- Chim called him for help in the episode Broken

- He went to the 217 and opened the spot for Buck at the 118

- He participated in the betting pool Hen made on how long Bobby would last at the 118 captain

- He apologises when he's in the wrong and is shown to be able to correct his behaviour

- He doesn't like chickens (lol)

- He likes the film fight club and can quote it

- Implies to have dated people he met on a call

See? We know quite a lot actually. So you may get off your high horse how about that.

I don't think I missed anything but do let me know.

#tommy kinard #911 abc #911 #911 show #911 season 7 #911 s7 #bucktommy #911 fandom #911 meta #kinley #tevan #evan buckley #eddie diaz #chimney han #hen wilson #bobby nash #my post

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natalievoncatte · 6 months

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Lena squared herself up after she stepped from the elevator.

This has taken considerable work. She’d had to arrange for her absence from boarding school to go unnoticed, or at least, unremarked upon. If Lillian got wind of her running away, she’d have been skinned alive. Perhaps literally. Since her adoptive father’s death, she’d actually looked forward to school, and to being away from Lillian’s abuse. Lex was now the only thing keeping her from Lena, and Lex was preoccupied with his project.

Her brother had been away for school for some time, but they had summers off together at least. When Lex took over the company when he turned 21, he grew distant and aloof, spending more time with his friend Clark or at work than with family.

With his absence came Lillian.

Still, she had managed to build a support network. Frank, her bodyguard-slash-driver was Lex’s man, but he was useful. Lena had spent months buttering him up to participate in her plan: she needed wheels.

In the meantime she’d acquired blackmail material. The head master at the school gave her a broad latitude after she implied that she might expose certain proclivities of his. That gave her the time away she needed. She’d carefully negotiated a higher allowance from Lex in exchange for accelerating her studies in anticipation of beginning her undergraduate studies at sixteen, which was a triviality for her anyway.

Lena walked down the hall, heart pounding against the backpack clutched to her chest. Each step felt heavy, alive with portent.

She could turn back now. She could turn her back now.

What if she was wrong? Paranoid, addled, as crazy as her mother, just like Lillian said? What if she was about to not only blow up her whole life, but slander her brother. If this went sideways, she didn’t know what exactly would happened to her, but Lillian had once, while tipsy on whisky from Lionel’s stash, told Lena that if not for Lex, she’d have Lena garroted with piano wire and buried on the estate, and like any bag of trash, no one would notice she’d been disposed of.

When she told Lex, her hands shook like leaves. He looked at her for a long cold moment and she worried that he’d slap her or scream or throw her out of the house, but he simply said, “I’ll talk to her about it.”

He did. She never made another threat.

He also brought her a wooden box, ornate and polished. Lex sat next to Lena and opened the box, showing her the contents, lying on red velvet. A five shot snub nose revolver and two speedloaders.

“I’ll teach you how to use this,” Lex said, grimly. “I know you’re smart enough to know if you need to. If anyone tries to harm you, kill them. I’ll clean it up.”

Lena had been terrified of it for months, even as she enjoyed the shooting lessons from Lex, given in a remote part of the estate near a burbling creek, the shots cracking the morning peace and shaking dew from leaves.

She had the gun in her backpack, and her hands were shaking.

The other contents of her bag were a weapon far more devastating. She was about to fire it and she’d have to accept the consequences.

Finally, she stood outside the door. Apartment 18B. The name on the lease was Lois Lane, but according to Lena’s reconnaissance, Clark Kent had been living with her virtually full time for the last six months, not long after something changed in his relationship with Lena’s brother.

Lena’s hand hung before the door for a good minute before she knocked, weekly. She hadn’t considered what might happen if they were simply not home. Her legs felt watery and her eyes burned. She knocked again. She was committed now.

The door swung open and Lois Lane stood before her. She was beautiful in an understated way, obscured by limp hair in a chaotic bun, rumpled clothes, and the stink of coffee on her breath.

“Who- what? Kid, what do you want?”

“I need to see Clark Kent. Is he here?”

“Who’s asking?”

“Lena Luthor.”

There was a gust of wind behind her, and Kent stepped into view.

“Lena?” said Clark. “Lex’s little sister? What are you doing here?”

Lena’s throat went tight. She swallowed hard, and as she anticipated, his demeanor changed. He softened. He craned forward slightly, studying her intently, and his brows shot up when looked at her bag.

He was checking her vital signs and he’d spotted the gun. In the bag.

“He knows you’re Superman,” Lena choked out, “and he’s going to kill you.”

Lois glanced at Clark with a stunned, stunned wide expression. Then, she grabbed Lena and yanked her inside, slamming the door. Lena squeaked.

“How do you know that? Lex knows? Did he tell you? What do you mean he wants to kill Clark?”

“Hey,” Clark said, crouching beside Lena to bring himself to her level, resting a comforting hand on her slight shoulder. “Take a breath, Lena. You’re safe here.”

In Lena’s plan, she was going to begin explaining, starting with how she deduced his identity and lay out what she discovered in his files. That was her plan, but no plan survived first contact with the enemy.

Lena began to sob.

Superman knelt beside her and removed his glasses, and enveloped Lena Luthor in a warm, protective hug. She sobbed harder, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” Lois whispered.

She drew the gun out of the bag and checked it with professional, practiced familiarity, dumping the shells into her hand.

“I think she’s telling the truth.”

Clark nodded.

Over the next hour, Lena was swept to Lois’s big couch and sat in the middle while the pair sat on either side of her. When she was hungry, Clark went out to get her favorite guilty pleasure meal, a big greasy burger and fries, and a milkshake too. Between bites, she explained everything, telling them about her brother’s insane plan to turn the sun red.

They believed it all. Lena had receipts.

Eventually, Lena was exhausted, everything had been said, and she sat with dull shock on the couch and stared at the black mirror of a blank television set, marveling at how small and helpless she looked, like a drowned rat.

“Why don’t you lay down for a while?” Lois said, gently. “Here, I’ll put something on the TV for you.”

Lena didn’t make it ten minutes in before she was asleep, curled tightly on one end of the couch with a pillow under her head.

She woke sometime later. It was dark now and she heard voices on the far side of the apartment.

“I called Bruce. He said he’s in, and he’s bringing reinforcements. I’m going to try to get a Green Lantern on board. We have to move fast. Nevermind me, if Lex does this, millions of innocent people will die. We’ll have to move fast.”

“What about the girl?” said Lois. “She can’t go home now. We have to get her somewhere safe.”

“I have to get you both somewhere safe. I should probably come up with a reason to get the building evacuated. One Lex realizes he’s been caught out, he’ll come after both of you.”

“You’re right.”

“I want you to go out,” said Clark. “Make it look like you’re heading out to a convenience store. Bruce is sending Alfred to pick you up, he should be here in an hour. I have somewhere else in mind for Lena.”

“Where?”

“It’s better if I don’t tell you, just in case.”

When he emerged from the back bedroom, Clark Kent was resplendent, clothed in the persona of Superman.

“Lena?” he said, gently. “We have to go. I’ll take you somewhere safe, where your brother won’t find you.”

Lois joined him. “You’re going to put on some of my clothes, and I’m going to check your hair. You can’t take anything with you. Lex Luthor might have been tracking you the entire time.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. What if she was right? That might be a move Lex would play, tracking Lena so that he could use her against his enemy. Lex had become cold, single minded. Lena was wondering how long it would be until she was disposable.

“Okay,” said Lena.

“I’m going to have to fly you.”

Lena did as she was told. She put on an outfit that belonged to Lois, a hilariously oversized Gotham U sweatshirt and leggings. When it was time, Superman bundled her up in his cape.

“I’m scared of heights.”

“I would never drop you,” he said.

Lena screamed when he took off. She was glad for the cape, glad she couldn’t see the ground. She curled up around him and pressed her eyes tightly closed, wondering exactly how fast they were going.

The landing came surprisingly fast. He’d alighted on the grassy lawn of a lovely beach house. Lena smelled something baking and heard voices inside. Clark knocked on the door.

A girl, a little older than Lena, opened the door. Golden curls spilled over her muscular shoulders, and she wore an oversized pair of glasses that did nothing to dull the endless depths of her blue eyes. There was something profoundly sad behind the curiosity in those eyes. She looked at Lena with mild confusion.

Lena stared back. There was a wild stirring in her stomach, and she shifted uneasily on her feet.

Then, the girl addressed Clark in a rapid, clipped, and utterly strange sounding language.

It hit Lena like a shockwave.

They were speaking Kryptonian.

“Lena,” said Superman, turning to her. “This is Kara Zor-El, my cousin. The last daughter of Krypton.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #runaway Lena #my headcanon is that Kara is older #teen supercorp romance #Lillian Luthor is a rancid bitch #teen Lena was adorkable #Kara has jock tendencies but is only jock adjacent #You can have a little butch Kara as a treat

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blarshwritezz · 4 months

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I dont know if you write for the Omegaverse..

Because how about a Bully (Alpha) x Nerd Male Reader (Omega) like the two of them dont get the Second Gender until now.. So basically the Bully realise that the Reader is his Fated Mate and dosent want anybody near him, only HIS.. But is really dificult for the Reader to not only Trust him but is also really scared of him..

So Reader first heat is a mess (Like the Bully is constally pound him with meaty d*ck) and the Bully is constally tell him sweet and suductive things to try to calm him down, even tho the Reader is crying because he still scared..

Finally ending with the Reader even more sacred knowing that the Alpha has mated him and posibly '´mark´´ him?

Well, I never have before, but I'll try! Apologies in advance for any mistakes

Yandere Bully Alpha x Nerd Omega Reader

M yan x M reader

TW - Possessiveness, jealousy, implied bullying, NSFW, dubcon

Somehow, since your bully realized you were his fated mate, life only got more difficult. At least you could have friends before! Now he occupied all your attention. If someone made eye contact with you for too long, he considered them a threat.

Honestly, you almost preferred how he acted in the past. Back when he would mock every little thing you did and make your life as hard as he could on purpose. Back when he made you do his homework and beat you up if you refused.

Now, he had you tutor him. It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't make you sit on his lap, or if he actually paid attention. He just sat there watching you work and listening to you teach him. He would hurt his face in your neck and breath in your scent, letting his voice fill your ears.

No wonder he always got so jealous when you used to have friends. It was your fault he felt that way, or so he thought. But once he realized you were meant to be his, he realized it was everyone else's fault! They shouldn't be near what's his.

He completely monopolized your time. Whenever you weren't at home, he was making you hang out with him. He'd try to spoil you with things to make up for how he treated you in the past, but that didn't fix it.

He hurt you. He made your life miserable, and he knew he was doing it the whole time. The damage he caused couldn't be fixed by some nice words or gifts.

He just didn't get it. No matter how hard he tried, you always recoiled from his touch. You always got tense when he held you. You never seemed to believe him when he showered you with praises. You didn't like his gifts. What was he doing wrong?

Maybe you liked it better when he was bullying you? So he tried it. He tried being mean to you again. But that only seemed to make it worse! He didn't get it. Why wouldn't you love him?! You were supposed to! He was your fated mate, so you had to love him!

He could only think of one more way to earn your love.

You didn't show up to school one day, which worried him. So of course, like a good mate, he skipped school after the first hour and promptly made his way to your house. He knew where you hid the so are key, so he just let himself in.

And there was a glorious sight awaiting him once he reached your room. There you were, face buried in your pillow, ass up as you stroked your aching cock. Your scent was absolutely overwhelming, and the sight immediately made him hard. You were already in the perfect position for him.

He quietly walked around you, adjusting his pants to let his meaty cock spring free. He'd help you...prove you needed him. Like a good mate.

"You need help there, my mate?" He carefully got behind you, using one hand to spread your ass and the other to line himself up with your needy hole.

You gasped at his raspy voice against your ear. There he was. The last man you wanted to see right now. He'd surely take advantage of your pathetic state.

But at the same time, just one look at his massive cock distracted you, your mind clouded by thought of being fucked.

He didn't let you answer before slowly pushing into you. He had to take it slow, filling you up inch by inch. He didn't want to hurt you. Not yet.

"Shhhh, that's it, you're doing so good." He cooed in your ear as you whined.

Once he thought you were ready, he slowly thrust into you...but it wasn't long before he lost control. How could he not? You felt so good all warm and tight around his thick cock. He was entirely unable to resist the incredible feeling.

He was relentless, stretching you to fit his huge cock without much care for your comfort. Even when tears began to stream down your face, he didn't slow down. He just kissed them away as he continued his harsh thrusts.

You were just crying because you weren't used to feeling this good. Right? That had to be it.

"It'll be okay, you're taking me so well." He hushed you, his breath hot against your skin as he trailed kisses across your jaw.

Your choked moans only enticed him further. He could already feel himself needing to cum. He's never felt such amazing pleasure before. No wonder you were his.

His kisses trailed lower and lower, down your neck, turning harsher. Turning to sucking and gentle nibbling, until he was biting you. He had to mark you of course, and in the most obvious places he could too. You were his. Everyone had to know.

He made sure you were the first to cum, which wasn't hard. Your heat had made you more sensitive. He was enjoying every bit of that. And you deserved to be the one feeling all the pleasure right now.

As you own cum covered your stomach, chest, and the sheets beneath you he couldn't help but praise you more. "What a good boy...I knew you enjoyed this as much as I did. Don't worry, you have your whole heat cycle to get used to me."

He wasn't going to let you feel needy for even a second. He was going to fuck you hard day and night, filling you with his cum, until your heat was over. He was just such a good mate like that.

Again, apologies for any mistakes!

#blarsh writes #yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #anon ask #male yandere #yandere x you #male x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #x male reader #male reader #male x male #male yandere x you #male yandere x male reader #male y/n

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honeyhoshi · 4 months

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scarlet, starlet pt. 1

summary: mingyu intends to make his girlfriend's wishes come true — all of them.

this a part of the man of the match universe

genre: professional football (soccer) mingyu, idol oc, porn with a little plot

wordcount: 3,251

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader

warnings: DDlg kink, d/s themes, both parties are safe, sane, and consenting adults, afab reader, lots of mentions of female anatomy, reader is implied to be significantly smaller than mingyu, making out, dry humping, finger sucking, fingering, squirting, huge mingyu, big dick gyu (canon), slight cum play, cum eating, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (pls dont do it, its not worth it), spit kink (bec i wrote it), creampie (also bec i wrote it), size kink go bbrrrr, bulge kink, dirty talk

author's notes: yet another work written for my lovely @madeforgyu! this is just part 1 of her birthday gift and is a part of the universe we have lovingly poured soooo much time and effort in. wuv u and all of that!

The excitement that comes with a new album and a comeback sometimes gets lost in just how complicated AM♡RE’s schedule has become. In between having to do pre-recording as a whole team, music shows would request certain members to be part of other variety segments which allowed other members to rest or even take on other schedules.

This led to fussy 4AM pre-recording sessions then running back to the company office to film overseas interviews and just napping during the car rides to and from one venue or another. By the time the whole team made it back to the KBS building for the live broadcast, the only thing fueling you was adrenaline and obligation. It’s a so-so way of celebrating your twenty-fourth birthday.

You try to shake it out of your system when you think of the cute pink drink truck that was parked by the entrance to the studio that your fans were enjoying. You think it could be a lot worse because you did catch a glimpse of the many birthday ads all over Seoul as you moved from one location to another.

But still, it could be better too.

With all the last minute activities and schedules being fit into every free moment you had in the past few weeks, it had been difficult to really set any celebration plans into stone with your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

A pout makes itself present on your face the second you start thinking of him. Having Mingyu around would make everything that wasn’t ideal about your birthday just simply melt away.

At this point, a message from him would suffice. You’re no stranger to receiving and sending messages at odd times but after Mingyu’s good morning message, all your other texts had gone unread.

You’re wracking your head if he had mentioned anything scheduled today but you come up with nothing because you can clearly remember that he said he was taking the entire day off to celebrate with you.

The thought sticks even as you’re being ushered on stage and you only really snap out of it as you find yourself in front of the crowd, the rest of your members bowing and waving before you have to take your starting positions.

You shake it off, thinking instead of how you’re sure a message from Mingyu will greet you the moment you step off stage.

You’re greeted by something far better than a text message when the music cuts and you’re trying to catch your breath.

A large smile is still plastered on your face as the thrill and joy of performing courses through you. The cheers fill you with warmth and satisfaction, hoping that you had given a good performance for the live show’s crowd, but a voice cuts through the usual noise of fans.

There’s a booming voice coming from the side stage and a “That’s my girl!” that sets every nerve on your body aflame in embarrassment and pride in equal measures.

It’s your boyfriend.

It’s Mingyu.

A bright smile splits your face and you can’t help the flush that paints your face pink as the rest of your members turn to see the afternoon’s special guest. With everyone on stage giggling and whispering amongst themselves with their lapels turned away from their mouths, even the crowd was starting to realize that something out of the norm was going on.

You make your goodbyes quick, giving deep bows of appreciation, but the excitement coursing through your body can’t be contained.

Once your leader has deemed you polite enough, offering you a sympathetic smile and nodding towards the general direction of the backstage area, you can’t move fast enough.

You briskly walk towards Mingyu who, despite his effort at dressing to be discreet, is still the most eye-catching person in the room. Standing tall and proud in the hustle and bustle of the music show staff is the top scorer of the Cheongdam Diamonds, offering you the most wicked grin.

There are so many eyes around you. Looks of jealousy, resentment, and also awe are no longer strange when either you or Mingyu are in the room. Having both of you present just meant all of the above, but a hundredfold. None of that matters to you at all when you let out a squeal and jump into his arms.

You don’t care. You’ve stopped caring. Let them see.

You can no longer count how many bad ideas have become good ones when Mingyu whispers them into your ear. You can’t even remember a time you’ve said no to him and his clever ideas. Not that you ever would really, especially when Mingyu always makes it worth your time.

It starts innocently enough, as it always does with you and Mingyu.

The second you managed to drag him into your dressing room, locking the door behind him, you had peppered his face and mouth with as many kisses as you could as he giggled and whispered birthday greetings every time your lips parted.

In no time, Mingyu had managed to wrap your legs around his waist and was guiding you as you slowly rocked your hips down onto his. The friction was so delicious even through all the layers of your stage costume but you knew that this would hardly suffice for either of you.

“I fucking hate these shorts,” Mingyu says with a grimace as his hands find their way to your ass, upset to find the layer of your safety shorts standing in his way.

Mingyu has always hated it when he would reach down and find your smooth skin covered with a seemingly offensive piece of clothing. On most days you barely wore any underwear around the house, just the way he likes it.

You love the little look of annoyance in his face and trace the lines of his eyebrows as you sit pretty on his lap, “They’re there to protect me.”

Mingyu can only snort at that.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Imagine if we stopped wearing these, then everyone would see what’s yours, Daddy.”

You feel his frown relax underneath your finger, “We can’t have that now, can we?”

“Nuh-uh,” You answer, allowing Mingyu to guide your hips. Even through the stupid safety shorts you could feel how his cock was pressing against the zipper of his jeans and Mingyu always knew how to find the cleft of your center to ensure that you were grinding your clit onto him.

“Why’s that?” He whispers against your lips, tongue flicking out to lick at your upper lip for just a split second.

You bite your tongue at the pleasure slowly building up between your legs and how he’s teasing you with his tongue, “Because this is yours.”

He makes a face of faux confusion before asking, “What exactly is mine?”

“This pussy.”

“Good girl.”

In no time, Mingyu has you strip for him and you stand before him, completely devoid of your costume. In the back of your head you can already imagine the frustration of the staff member assigned to assist you with getting fully dressed again, but the look Mingyu gives you has you pushing the thought away.

He’s sprawled on the couch as if he owned it and you’re dying to fall to your knees between his spread legs, but the second you move to do so, Mingyu grabs your wrist to stop you.

“It’s my sweet girl’s birthday today, so we’ll do all the stuff you like,” He says, standing up and crowding you against the counters littered with different makeup brushes and pots of eyeshadow and powder puffs.

“But I want to suck your cock,” You state as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mingyu chuckles and you meet his eyes. You’re entranced.

“I know you do, love. But I don’t want you to bruise your knees when I’m dressing you back in that little skirt.”

He has a point and you frown, “How about tonight?”

He smiles as he brings three fingers up to your mouth, “Okay, I’ll even let you choke on it. Now suck on Dad’s fingers, get them nice and messy.”

You immediately let your mouth fall open and start to lap at the three fingers Mingyu offers you, savoring the salt of his skin and the rough pads of his fingers. If you tried hard enough you could pretend they were his cock, hard and smooth and so so delicious. Your little daydream has you salivating in no time, coating Mingyu’s fingers and lubricating them enough for what he’s no doubt about to do to you.

“Look at that little mouth go,” He marvels, “So small, three fingers can barely fit. Are you sure you can suck my cock?”

You’re shaken from your thoughts and immediately a look of distress spreads on your face, “Yes, it can fit! I can make it fit. You’ll make it fit, won’t you?”

Mingyu’s fingers are barely out of your mouth as you try to convince him. The look on your face makes Mingyu smile. It’s horrible and mean and you love it so much.

“Yeah, I’ll make it fit. I’ll make sure my baby will take it.”

You preen at the promise and wait in anticipation as he pulls his hands away from your lips and pressing his mouth against yours.

This kiss was not exactly a typical one. Instead of pressing your lips together, Mingyu licks into your mouth, his tongue bullying its way inside and pushing your own tongue out of the way. He runs this tongue against the roof of your mouth and against your teeth until you slowly start to press your tongue against his.

You groan in relief as he finally eases up to kiss you properly but tense up when you feel one of his hands grab at your left thigh to lift it up and prop it up on the counter. This position has you spread wide open for him. He loves it when he can see all of you.

The slick that’s been gathering between your folds is surely visible in this position and it makes you clench around nothing as Mingyu pulls away to survey you in this position.

“So so pretty,” He whispers underneath his breath, not even to you, just to himself, “Going to destroy this tiny pussy.”

That’s as much warning as you get before he presses two fingers into you at once.

Mingyu is bigger than most men in all aspects. He’s tall and broad, having put in so much time to get his physique to where it is now. His sheer size followed everywhere else. His fingers were long and thick and the press of two into your core has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Whether it was his cock or his fingers, you knew to always expect a stretch. And you loved it.

“Sooo good, Daddy,” is all you can muster as Mingyu sets a punishing pace that has you trembling in his arms in no time.

Each curl of his fingers sent a jolt down your spine that had you inching closer to the edge despite how Mingyu had just started.

“My pussy is taking two fingers so well,” He says, “I think three would be even better.”

You hate that he pulls his fingers out but you’re immediately placated when he brings the two fingers to his mouth to suck your slick off of them.

He makes a noise of delight before removing his fingers and leaning down. For a second you think he’s going to eat you out but instead Mingyu spits out the saliva and slick he’s collected in his mouth and lets it drip down from your clit.

He moves back to take in the absolutely debauched state of your pussy, smiling to himself, pleased at how messy he’s gotten you, before spreading the wetness with his soiled fingers.

“Are you ready for three, little girl?” He asks, almost mocking. You preen at the nickname and at the promise of the stretch of three fingers inside of you.

Even with the preparation he had given you, he punches a deep exhale from you and he pushes three fingers. The fit is so tight that you can feel how the rough pads of his fingers are. He always did refuse to wear gloves when he lifted weights. Now you want to thank him for it, because the friction inside you makes you want to scream.

It doesn’t help how slowly he’s going either. He’s relishing in how your walls wrap around his fingers, how you tighten up when he slips in a little further. And when he crooks his fingers just right, he can feel how you’re getting just a little bit wetter, slicker.

“You take me so good,” He whispers against your lips, so close it's almost a kiss.

You’re breathless though, mouth slightly ajar, waiting for his tongue to slither between your lips. He doesn’t make a move though aside from a cocky smirk and an arched brow.

Mingyu lets his fingers continue on with their noble job of getting you closer and closer to the edge. Each push and pull of his digits inside you set your nerves alight, but the delicate movement of his right hands make you want to die.

Even as he’s coaxing and orgasm with three fingers on his left hand, the fingers on his right are tracing delicate swirls and unrecognizable patterns along your inner thigh. Every now and then they’d go higher, just by the lips of your pussy.

The pace is much too slow for your liking and you’re worried that your absence would start to seem suspicious. You weren’t at Mingyu’s training center where everything is kept under lock and key with a very well written NDA. You were at Music Bank where staff members were nosy and there was surely another girl group member roaming the halls, praying for your downfall.

“Daddy, faster,” Is all you can manage in between kisses on Mingyu’s jawline, licking a stripe to taste the salt of his sweat and that underlying tinge of just him.

You don’t expect his free hand to come and grip the underside of your jaw, his fingers long enough to reach both sides of your cheeks. He applies just the right pressure to squeeze your cheeks and force your lips into a pucker.

It would be cute if not for the look on Mingyu’s face.

“This is a birthday gift, angel. Be good while I give it to you, hmm?” He says as he begins to pick up the pace.

In no time the pace is punishing, the only thing slowing Mingyu down is how each push of his fingers back inside of you required a stretch and each time your walls made space for him inside you, you let out a little whimper.

When Mingyu presses his thumb against your clit, adding to the already intense pleasure, you can barely keep it together. In no time you feel the telltale signs of an inevitable orgasm.

No matter the method, every single orgasm Mingyu has ever given you was mind blowing, and this would be no exception. You feel the wetness dripping down your ass before you’re comprehending what exactly has happened, having difficulty in processing the immense pleasure coursing through you, your eyes slipping shut at the feeling of cumming all over Mingyu’s fingers.

Your walls tighten around him, even as you spill into his open palm and he continues to push in and out, droplets falling to the floor beneath you and between his feet.

Mingyu’s eyes are fixed on your entrance as he keeps you filled, pleased with how stretched out you are, ready for him to just slip in.

He pulls his fingers out only to move them to cover your clit, gently rubbing, keeping you on the precipice of pleasure, not allowing you a moment to come back to Earth. You’re in that heady space only he take you.

“Eyes open, baby. Watch daddy fuck his cock into you,” Mingyu says with a light slap to your face.

He moves and lifts your other leg up, maneuvering your hands that are wrapped around him to hold yourself open, keeping you fully spread open and seated on the dressing room counter.

Mingyu grasps his cock and gives himself one, two, three pumps to ease the initial need for friction, before he taps the now leaking tip against your clit. A pearlescent drop of precum falls on the hood of your clit and you watch, helpless as he harshly swipes at it with his thumb.

You hiss at rough handling but are immediately silenced when he brings the thumb up and shoves it into your mouth. He presses down on your tongue as if to wipe the cum off his finger.

He grabs a fistful of the hair at the nape of your neck and smashes your mouths together. You love the way even his mouth seems to hold dominance over your own. The movements, no matter how unruly, are still just the right thing to get you going once more.

“We taste so good together, huh?” He whispers after fucking your mouth with his tongue. He pulls away slightly and lolls out his tongue to let a thick wad of spit fall from his lips down to your center.

The impact of the warm liquid has your gaping hole clenching around nothing.

It pleases Mingyu so much that he forgoes all the other teasing he initially had in mind and just guides the head of his cock to sop up the spit on your pussy before pushing in to the hilt in one thrust.

The blissed out sigh that you let out set him on fire.

Gone is the idea of long, languid strokes to stoke the fire in your belly. Instead he goes with a punishing pace that has high pitched cries slipping from your mouth.

His hands find the thickness of your ass to keep you in place, his hips doing all the work of rearranging your guts. In this angle and position, he can see how the head of his cock bulges in your abdomen slightly. It if was possible, he would have gotten harder.

Having already been so sensitive from hardly being able to come down from your first orgasm, Mingyu’s actions had you reeling into your second one in no time.

“My princess deserves to come already,” Mingyu says, slightly breathless, leaning his forehead on yours “Dad wants this pussy to never let him go.”

You nod in agreement, “It's yours forever. I love you.”

It almost seems pathetic for him to cum at those words, but it's a spectacular orgasm as he pulls out until only the head of his cock is inside you before he slams his hips flush to yours and letting himself flood your pussy with his cum.

You’re delirious as he keeps you steady, pulling out so slowly to make sure you keep every single drop of him inside of you.

“Keep it in until you get home,” He says, “I want to slip right in the second you get through the door and still feel me inside you.”

You press your lips to his once, twice, and a third one for good measure before nodding excitedly.

“It’s your gift to me. I won’t let a single drop go to waste.”

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 GUYS I JUST READ THE CUTEST FAN ACCT FROM TODAY'S MUBANK WTFFFF

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 There's a special guest at today's live performance!! After the Midas Touch recording there was a really loud and DEEP cheeer coming from backstage. The members were all looking to see who it was ijbol!!

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 Ahreum was so happy when she figured out who it was that after bowing and greeting fans she left the stage but her mic was still on!!

huhu our baby was probably so happy and giggly as she always is! the op of the fan acct thinks its Mingyu!!

thank you Mingyu for loving and taking care of our precious Ahreum! 🥹🫧🩷

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 CONFIRMED WTFFFFF 😭😭😭 Mingyu was seen leaving Music Bank today!!

SIR U R A FOOTBALLER U HAVE NO REASON TO BE AT MUSIC BANK IF NOT FOR UR IDOL GF!!

#frizzy fiction #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #au: man of the match

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Mistakes

Jungkook knew from the first look at your eyes, that you'd be the biggest mistake he'll ever make.

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Smut, car sex, protected sex, no strings attached, big dick!Jungkook, implied size kink, very mild Dom!Kook undertones, oral (m. receiving), sugar daddy!Jungkook vibes but only in a joking manner

Length: 7k words (oops)

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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Jeon Jungkook doesn't really attend parties- typically.

But this time, for this occasion, he can't really pull himself out- he's got to at least show up for a moment, be there and present, before he can call it a night and go home. It's not like he hates his coworkers or employees most of all- he's just not that good at socializing, and never really was.

He's learned to be alone, and now he's too good at it.

A lot of the people in the hall, he doesn't know. That's probably because he's allowed people to bring a plus-one, so most of the people here are couples, which makes the whole situation just so much worse. "You could at least try and appear like you're having fun, you know?" Taehyung laughs, standing closer to his coworker now, a drink in hand. "It's not that bad." He tries to lighten the mood, but Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

"It's not even been an hour and I already want to go." He sighs.

"Why not leave then?" Tae wonders, sipping his non-alcoholic drink, since he's gonna have to drive home later, his wife currently conversing with other coworkers. "Oh, right, because Namjoon-"

"God don't remind me." Jungkook mumbles, shaking his head as he sips his whiskey. "I can't believe I lost that bet." He growls to himself, watching how someone seems to struggle with choosing the right food at the buffet, plate still empty even after several minutes. You look young, or maybe you're just short- he's not sure, but what he is sure about is that you do not work for him or his company- at least not in the same building. He would've noticed you, just like he does right now.

"I think she's Yoongi's plus-one? Or at least he drove here with her together.." Taehyung mumbles, having spotted his friend watching you.

"She looks young." Jungkook mumbles. "And I thought Yoongi was seeing the secretary we hired a few months ago?" He wonders, finally letting his eyes leave you alone, form-fitting dress very complimenting to your body, not too revealing, but still somewhat teasing.

Taunting him, almost.

"Oh, he does! Namjoon caught them making out in Yoongi's office last week." Taehyung laughs. "She's probably just a friend." He shrugs.

A friend, huh?

"Maybe something for you though?" Taehyung jokes. "I mean, I think I saw her drinking earlier, so she's at least of legal age." He laughs, making Jungkook cringe at him. He doesn't really find this whole joke funny- not at all, but Taehyung is right when it comes to Jungkook having a.. severe lack of company these past few years. Only occasionally does he have some sex without any strings attached- never brings anybody home however, refuses to cling to someone.

He's divorced anyways. Most women don't really find that very appealing.

Maybe he can have some simple company this time as well, nothing serious at all- it's been a while, after all, and everyone's an adult here, no matter the age difference. As long as he communicates it properly, there's no reason not to at least converse with you.

So he does indeed approach you, finding you still at the buffet, barely anything on your plate at all.

"Too much to choose from?" He wonders next to you, and he realizes the huge mistake he's made when approaching you the second you lift your head to look at him.

The lights reflect in your eyes like mirrors, minimal makeup perfectly enhancing your features, lips shiny with the most sinful shade of lipgloss this world probably has to offer. He's a goner, right away, lost in the sight of you, as if he's been thrown into the deep end of a pool so cold that it freezes his muscles, making him sink down to the bottom like a stone.

"Oh, no.." You answer, looking back at all the foods. "I have a shellfish allergy, so I'm not sure what I can eat.." You mumble, one hand having reached up to play with the sparkling pink gemstone hanging around your neck.

His mouth feels dry for a second, before he catches himself.

"Here." He mentions, pointing at some small numbers near the names of the foods on the small cards. "Those small numbers, the three right there is for shellfish." He offers, pointing towards a different card close by where the numbers are explained.

"Oh! Thank you so much, I hate contact lenses!" You laugh to yourself. "I usually wear glasses, but I wanted to look pretty.." You giggle, putting some food onto your plate now.

"I'm sure nothing can ruin a face like that." He flirts without truly thinking about it- making you visibly blush, trying to contain a smile.

"I appreciate the compliment…?" You wonder, and Jungkook knows, he's probably about to make another, grave mistake.

"Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook." He introduces himself, and you tell him your name in return, smiling oh-so devastatingly beautiful.

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His plan was absolutely not to explore what might be beneath that pretty dress of yours- and it seems like that might stay that way despite his length inside you.

You're moving your hips in ways that makes him dizzy, mind clouded with lust as you bounce up and down, hands on your back the only thing helping you avoid accidentally hitting the steering wheel. He's pushed the seat back as far as it goes, but you can never be too sure- he wouldn't want you to honk and draw attention to the surely shaking vehicle in the darkened parking lot.

The condom had been pure luck- he's not a fan of pulling out, so if it hadn't been there in the glove box of his car, he probably would've had to awkwardly call it quits before anything really happened at all. It's not like you both instantly were at each other's throats the moment you left the gathering- he simply offered to drive you home instead of Yoongi, who'd wanted to stay a little longer, while you complained about feeling tired. And in his car, you'd talked- casually so, something clicking, as he's now got you on his lap, bouncing on his dick like he's not experienced in quite some time now.

He feels a bit bad. Despite making sure that you know this is nothing but a casual fuck, it still feels a little odd to him. He doesn't like things like these- it feels like he's using you, and he's not a fan of such situations.

Though he can't deny that you feel absolutely divine.

The rain is heavy outside, pushing against the car's windows from all sides, drowning out the otherwise rather obscene sounds coming from between your bodies. Your hands are on his shoulders, fingers gripping his muscles beneath the fabric of his formal button-up. He refuses to kiss you, can't find it in him to do it, and you accept it, instead treating it as detached as you can, simply chasing your high as you fuck yourself on his twitching length.

He feels good. Thick, able to reach far inside you, but not enough to hurt.

The way he holds you is nice too- not too strong of a grip, only enough to guide you, keep you moving, keep you going. He's not big on dirty talk, isn't over the top with anything, and it almost feels like he's treating you like a woman, and not some chick he's met at a party. There's a certain sense of respect he's offering you that gives you confidence, makes you feel powerful for once even though he's clearly setting the pace.

This is something you don't usually get to have. Someone taking you seriously.

"You close?" He asks out of breath, avoiding your eyes, rather looking at your lips, though never moving into action. A limit he's set, and a limit he follows, he's clearly a man that doesn't wildly change his mind on the fly. Though, considering who he is, and where he is in life, he probably has had enough time to be untamed and wild already. You faintly wonder if he's ever been in a long-term relationship. Yoongi hasn't really talked about him much.

Neither have you asked. You've seen him, once or twice- but a man like that is out of range for you.

You nod when he grips your behind, reminding you quietly of his question, hips stuttering as he takes over, helping you move to chase his own orgasm right after yours. You're a bit overly sensitive, but you push through it just to see him clench his jaw, eyes closing as he groans out in relief, cum spurting into the condom inside you.

It's suddenly over, and not even your evening breaths can mask the slight awkwardness that's filling the car.

One of his hands keeps you close, though you have to lean against him a bit as to not move your hips too much as he reaches for something from the glovebox, plastic wrap of the small pack of tissues making a distinctive sound. "You okay?" He asks you, and you nod, now having switched places apparently as you avoid his face entirely.

You rather move a bit weirdly to accept the tissue offered, lifting your hips to awkwardly wipe yourself down, before pulling up your underwear and climbing back into the passenger seat, where you clean the inside of your thighs while he discards the condom from his length with a slight hiss of sensitivity.

You never really know what to say. You don't actually do this often- this is only the second time you've ever hooked up with anyone like this, and it's just as weird as the first time.

"Thank you, by the way." He offers, taking the challenge away from you as he puts the tied up condom in the tissue to discard it at home later. "Let me drive a bit closer to the building, just so you don't get too wet." He says, pulling his seat back into proper position before he starts the car.

Such a gentleman- You're a little disappointed. But only mildly so. Will you even stay in his mind?

Probably not.

You're way too young for a man like him, who most likely wants a proper woman in his life instead of a.. instead of you. You're not even sure where you are at in life- neither a woman nor a girl, somewhere in between, floating, unsure, neither and both. You know however for a fact that you'll remember him- probably for quite a while, before the memory will fade into nothing but a glimpse.

"There we go." Jungkook says, stopping the car very much in front of your apartment building, sideways so that you can run right into the main hall. "Please remember to text Yoongi, okay?" He reminds you. "He might be worried otherwise." He smiles kindly, and you nod, a bit forced, grabbing your light coat and your handbag. "And.. I enjoyed it. Very much so." He makes sure to tell you, making you nod a bit shy.

"I.. uhm, I'm glad." You nod, awkwardly, causing him to chuckle.

"Now go hurry inside before the rain starts again." He urges, making you nod dumbly once more before you open the car door, running inside the apartment building after closing the door.

And he drives off, back home, where nothing waits for him but the humming fridge and a cold, empty bed.

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Daehyun can be a little spoiled, but other than that, he's a well behaved kid for his age.

He loves staying at your place, though his questions on when you'll be getting another dog after your first passed away a year ago are sometimes a bit stinging to your heart. He's a child, obviously- he doesn't understand the hurt that can settle in your soul after losing such an important piece of your life, so you can't blame him for moving on a lot quicker than you.

He's too young to understand that yet.

"Uncle Yoongi has a cat now!" Daehyun tells you as he builds the lego set with you, his small hands having some difficulty here and there, but he's a quick learner, and a good improviser. "But he said I can't play with her, because she's a girl-cat, and girl-cats don't like playing." He explains, pouting a bit as he uses all his strength to pull two pieces apart again.

"Well, I think she's just be a little nervous still." You reassure the boy. "You know, she just moved into a new home. Things might be a little scary to her." You explain, and Daehyun nods.

"I only pet her a bit." Daehyun tells you. "Appa said we're gonna get a dog soon though!" He says with excitement, making you smile.

"That's nice." You agree, helping him pull some bricks apart. You like having the little boy over at your place- it makes you feel both like a grown person, and also like a child at the same time. Daehyun doesn't judge your vast collections of stuffed animals and lego sets- he only sees you as the nice aunt, a big sister, a friend of his dad where he stays over at often whenever work gets in the way and takes away most of Taehyung's attention. Just like this weekend- Taehyung having needed someone to look after the boy, Dae's mother constantly equally without any time. You're not sure how long that marriage is gonna last with her refusing to step back at least a little to properly take care of her own child, and with Taehyung's growing frustration over the situation.

You hope the poor boy won't get caught up in the crossfire. That would just be awful.

Hours later, all the toys put away, your doorbell rings, giving you the clue that someone must be now here to pick the young boy up. Probably either Jimin or Yoongi- but when you open the door, it's neither of them, but a casually dressed Jungkook, hands in his slacks as your gaze gets caught on the slightly unbuttered shirt that's tucked into the pants, LY-labeled belt buckle accentuating his rather slim waist.

What the fuck.

"Oh- uh, come inside." You offer, stepping aside to let him in, Daehyun quickly running up to Jungkook, who mirrors the excitement of the young boy as he squats down to hug him. You let them both have their moment, instead walking around to collect all of Dae's things, checking twice to make sure he didn't forget anything, as you text Taehyung to make sure the man is really supposed to take the boy with him.

He is, which makes you a bit upset. Taehyung could've told you before.

When you walk back inside the living room area, Dae is currently busy showing Jungkook a stuffed animal- a gift from Jimin a year ago, modeled after your dog as a keepsake. "He was suuuper big, and really nice!" Dae beams up at the man. "He always ate ice cubes, but-" the small boy inspects the stuffed animal a little, lips pouting. "-Noona said he was really old, so he went to sleep." He offers, and Jungkook seems to realize what the stuffed toy might actually be.

"Let's put him back on the table then, yeah?" He offers, a hand with faint ink taking the toy from the smaller hands of the boy to place it back next to the picture frame of your dog and the collar on the tiny table near the door where he used to sleep. "So he can sleep well." He explains, making Dae nod. When you make your presence finally known, Jungkook removes the hand, heavy watch on his wrist faintly hitting the edge of the table for a second, as he watches how you help the small boy into his jacket.

You're a little confusing.

"Alright." You say after successfully getting Daehyun to put on his shoes. "Theres- uhm, there's a, wait, I'll show you.." You say, moving to pull a little folder out of one of the bags packed. "This one, please make sure Taehyung sees this. It's Daehyun's homework, and he really needs to do them this time." You emphasize. "Just make sure he actually looks inside at least once.." You sigh, putting the bright red folder back into the bag.

"I'll make sure." Jungkook accepts, taking the bag from you. "Anything else?" he wonders, and you refuse any eye contact, instead shaking your head to hug Daehyun goodbye as you bring him and Jungkook to your front door.

"Noona, you gotta hug Jungkookie too!" Dae says, surprising you with his lack of formality when addressing his father's friend- but you don't question it.

And admittedly, Jungkook is fairly surprised when you do in fact reach out to hug him goodbye, though very formal. It's still.. oddly nice, you don't seem to wear perfume but rather rely on your scented bodywash, which smells very good to him. This is weird. Why is he getting such feelings of comfort for a simple hug with nothing attached to it?

And why is he kind of disappointed when it ends far too quickly?

But it gets worse in the car, because Daehyun has clearly gotten the wrong message entirely. "Noona doesn't have a boyfriend." He says from the backseat where Jungkook has placed the booster seat he's gotten from Taehyung in cases like these where he has to pick up the young boy. "And appa said you don't have a girlfriend." He says, making Jungkook nod and hum a reply. "Noona is really pretty." He giggles. Jungkook cant help but chuckle along.

"She is." He agrees, because he won't lie about that. You are very pretty in his opinion, though he can only really judge you mostly by looks alone. "Did you have fun? I heard you were there the whole weekend." He tries to steer the conversation away, but the young boy clearly doesn't get the message.

"Noona can cook really well!" He praises. "She always makes me my favorite, and then we watch tv in our 'jamas." He says, and Jungkook has to imagine you both probably bundled up in blankets on the small couch you have, watching kid's shows until the poor boy falls asleep.

Domestic. Do you like children? Want your own in the future, maybe?

"Jungkookie?" Dae asks, and Jungkook hums a reply, telling the kid he's listening. "Do you like Noona?" He wonders.

"I don't know her that much, dae. But she seems nice." He offers instead, trying to evade the interrogation of the small boy.

"Do you like drinking?" Dae wonders. "Like, the stuff appa says I can't have?" He asks, and Jungkook grows a bit weary. Why exactly would the young boy ask something like that?

"Sometimes. Why do you ask?" He asks the boy, who seems to deflate now.

"Then you can't be friends with Noona." He complains.

"Why not?" Jungkook wonders.

"Because, the guy noona liked for a while always got mean when he was drinking that stuff." Dae complains, looking out the window. "I was never allowed to play at noona's house when he was there. He really liked that stuff that smells bad, but it made noona upset." He says.

Jungkook tenses up a bit. "Was he ever-, how was he mean to you?" Jungkook wonders.

"He always told noona to do things for him, and never let her play with me." He huffs. "And Yogi didn't like him too, because he always had to stay in his bed." He complains. Jungkook assumes the boy is probably talking about the dog.

Jungkook doesn't know how to ask what he wants to ask. It doesn't concern him at all- after all, it seems like you're no longer together with that guy, so he shouldn't pry. But something makes him worry- deep down, he's awfully wary, since he now realizes you did indeed not even touch any alcohol at the party at all- the drink Taehyung had seen you hold non-alcoholic. How bad must the relationship have been? You might not have a fear of men, but you're clearly affected by the past, it seems like.

"Did.." no. He shouldn't be asking that. It's none of his business.

"Do you get mean too when you drink?" Dae wants to know. "Appa only gets really sleepy." He giggles. Jungkook laughs along. Taehyung truly does only get horribly tired whenever he drinks- and he knows for a fact that he never gets drunk when he has to take care of the boy alone, so he's not at all alarmed by those words.

"No, I don't get mean." Jungkook answers. "I don't really drink a lot of it, so it only makes me feel a bit silly." He offers as an explanation, and Dae nods.

"Then, maybe Noona won't mind." He says, causing Jungkook to chuckle, shaking his head.

"Why do you want Noona to like me so much?" He wonders, and at that, Taehyung's son becomes excited.

"Because, then my favorite people like each other!" He exclaims. "And that's really cool. Then we can have sleepovers together, and you can help me get a new dog for noona!" He says. "She's really sad that Yogi sleeps now. I think she's lonely." He whines.

"We can have sleepovers anyways, dae." He laughs.

"But, appa told eomma, that you need someone you like." He huffs. Jungkook reminds himself to scold his friend at a later date. "Because you're not happy now, and you're lonely. And noona's lonely too." He offers.

Luckily, Jungkook escapes any further questioning as he finally reaches Taehyung's apartment, ready to drop the young boy off.

The whole conversation not leaving him at all the entire rest of the day, as he realizes he forgot to show Taehyung the folder.

Crap. This is your fault.

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It's been weeks- and apart from rubbing one out to the remaining memories of you in his car, he's not really thought much about you at all.

He's seen you on occasion here and there at the grocery store or a coffee shop, which made him realize that you've always been right under his nose but he just never knew who you were, but you two don't really have had any actual conversations anymore.

There's no reason for it.

He now knows that you're actually the part-time nanny Taehyung used to have a few years back, when you apparently had just been fighting to find a new job to keep your apartment and not get kicked out for not being able to pay rent. Back then, Taehyung and his wife had been living separated for a bit after a pretty bad fight- so the father had needed someone to take some weight off his shoulders, and help with the small child who couldn't even talk yet. You helped raise Daehyun basically, more or less- and, according to Taehyung, it shows.

The young boy has a strong sense of justice, and shares everything he has happily- something that he's learned from you. It makes some odd things make sense now to Jungkook as well- how Dae has some habits that seem very unique, but also too specific to have been developing all on their own. The child holds the front of his shirt a lot- something Jungkook noticed you do in a similar way as well, whenever you think of something.

Today, it's Daehyun's birthday. And Jungkook is sure, that the young boy probably demanded that both jungkook and you had to be there.

And he's right.

The minute he enters Taehyung's penthouse, he spots you sitting on the floor with the child, who's currently trying to read his own birthday card to you, before he spots him in the doorway. You look pretty, yet again. No makeup it seems like, and he can't say that you need it. You obviously don't, eyes still sparkling dangerously, smile still as lethal as ever as you wave a little bit before getting up.

You're dressed comfortably. He likes the sight of it- the casual dress you wear not too short to be scandalous, but short enough to tease him with the skin of your legs, hidden beneath a sheer pantyhose. Or?

No. There's an upper hem of lace- those are just stockings.

"Jungkookie, appa said you'll drive noona home today?" Dae says, now held up on Jungkook's hip, as he looks at Taehyung who laughs.

"Dae, I said I'm gonna ask him if he can drive her home!" He scolds gently. "Hey- sorry, he just runs with whatever he hears." The father tells him, and Jungkook just smiles, shaking his head.

"I can drive her home, no worries." He simply affirms. "It's no problem."

"Taehyung I told you I can go home by myself!" You whine, and Jungkook is intrigued by this seemingly new side of you. He knows you as a little shy, soft spoken, polite. You always greet him when you see him, and you've talked a little bit in his car weeks back- but then again, you only know each other on a very surface level.

He wonders what you're really like.

"And I said you're not driving alone when you're sick." Taehyung threatens, dad-voice coming through as he attempts to push through your clearly stubborn behavior, and Jungkook can't help but watch intently as your eyes roll around, attitude clear as you don't take your friend seriously at all.

"Noona is gonna be a mommy!" Daehyun blurts out to Jungkook, and for a split second, his entire body freezes, blood cooling down to the negatives, bones filling with fear.

He wore a condom- but what if something happened? What if it leaked? Was that even possible? He's not against becoming a father, absolutely not- but he'd like to have a proper relationship for that, a stable one, not something like this.

"Daehyun!" You scold with red cheeks, and Taehyung runs a hand over his face. "Appa just asked me if I was, I'm not!" You whine embarrassed, sighing. "Oh god, guys, please! I'm an adult woman, I'm not sick, I can go home by myself." You complain, walking into the kitchen, presumably to escape the pressuring situation.

"She threw up earlier, that's why I asked her. Dae must've heard me." Taehyung says, after averting his son's attention back to the TV in the living room, where his favorite show plays. "She refuses to see a doctor for it. But you look like you've seen a ghost-" Taehyung teases, before his eyes sharpen. "…could it be that the mention of her becoming a mommy made you worry?" He pokes, and Jungkook furrows his brows, averts eye contact. "Holy shit, you two!?" He hisses, and Jungkook groans.

"Shut up, it was nothing." He simply says, while Taehyung's eyes widen in a scandalized manner.

"Nothing?! Jungkook, where is that nothing?" He argues, surprisingly sternly. "I'll drive her home."

"You're acting like I forced myself onto her-" Jungkook sighs, but Taehyung shakes his head. "Taehyung, you heard her. She's an adult woman, she can decide things herself." Jungkook defends you. "I'll drive her home, and I'll text you once she's dropped off." He says, before he walks into the kitchen where you're filling up a glass with water.

"Oh god that was embarrassing." You whine into your hands, before you shake your head. "He acts as if I'm dying any second whenever something's up." You mumble, drinking from your glass. He can see you're a bit less energetic- hand a bit shaky as you drink.

"He worries." Jungkook offers, leaning against the counter next to the fridge, across from you. "And you should go see a doctor if you don't feel well." He scolds, and yet again, you roll your eyes.

"And you should try and work on your facial expressions, mister." You huff. "I could see the panic a mile away when Dae said I'm pregnant." You bite, making him tilt his head a little "Either way, I'm fine. I can't afford to call in sick right now or my landlord will kick me out the minute my rent is late again." You laugh a little bitterly, finishing your water before you rinse the glass in the sink.

"Do you not get paid a regular salary each month?" He wonders. You shake your head.

"I do, but it's the monthly bonus that keeps me afloat." You explain. "And I only get that one if I'm not sick and bring appropriate numbers to the table." You sigh. "My landlord just searches for a reason to kick me out, I'm sure." You mumble as you dry your hands.

"How come?" Jungkook asks.

"I didn't want to go out with the guy." You shrug, not looking at him. "I like older men, but sixty? No thanks.." You huff, turning around to look at a smug looking Jungkook, his arms crossed.

"Would've never guessed." He tells you in a cocky manner, and you cross your arms to mirror his position in an exagerated manner.

"I would've probably let you screw me if you were younger too." You respond.

"Oh?" He raises his brows. This is oddly fun. "Were you that needy?" He teases, and suddenly, your eyes soften quite a bit, scaring him.

"No." You shake your head. "Guess you were just that charming." You shrug.

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"If your job pays that awful, why not change it?" Jungkook wonders as he maneuvers out the parking lot, leaving Taehyung's home behind after Daehyun had gone to bed.

You shrug.

"I'm lucky I got accepted in this one." You say. You're tired- it's obvious to him. "I dropped out of school too early. Now I'm facing the consequences- and honestly, it's not that bad either. I get by, and it's a quiet life I'm living, which is nice." You offer.

"Do you not have any ambitions?" He asks, relaxed now that he knows you're not one to be overly sensitive when it comes to more personal topics like that. You don't try to read between the lines where there's most of the time nothing at all to find.

"Its not like I don't have any ambitions." You respond, neither denying nor confirming. "It's more that I realized some of those ambitions were.. unrealistic. So I instead pursued what was." You shrug. "Nothing too deep. It's.. part of growing up, I guess." You explain.

Growing up. Talking to you, right now, truly does remind him of that. Almost two hands between you both in years, but you're awfully matured in the way you think at its core. You just have a softer shell around it, your opinions can still move, your mind still has some sort of wiggle room.

His doesn't. He makes decisions and sticks by them, most of the time. He doesn't like change, he enjoys his routine, keeps everything in order most of the time- until now.

Because you're definitely a decision he keeps bending around.

"How much is your rent?" Jungkook asks, and you look at him from where you're leaning against the car's window, an amused expression on your face.

"Why? You wanna be my sugar-daddy?" You joke, and he shrugs, much to your surprise.

"I don't care what you call it." He simply says. "But if it get's you to take some time and take care of your health, I can take care of a month's rent." He offers.

"I don't like that." You respond.

"I know." He laughs. "I've come to learn that you don't like accepting help. But it's something you can't avoid at times." He explains to you. "I'm just offering help. Whether or not you take it, is up to you." He shrugs.

"Why would you do that?" You wonder, suspicious.

"Because Taehyung worries about you. And Daehyun would be terribly upset if something was to happen to you." He admits. "I don't know you well enough to say that I'm doing this for you- so I'll be honest. I do this mostly for them." He says.

You nod. You like this- that he's actually telling the truth, instead of trying to woo you into something.

"Alright." You sigh, tired. "I'll.. text you?" You wonder, and he nods.

"I have your number from Taehyung already." He chuckles. "I just didn't have a reason to reach out yet." He admits.

You just nod, eyes falling shut for longer he notices.

You must be working hard if you're this exhausted. He really hopes you'll take care of yourself after he helps you sort everything out.

Hopefully his help is enough.

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He's lost control over the situation. How can this happen a second time?

He's been texting you these past few days, especially after you've finally took some time off of work to sort out your doctor's visits, having received some medication to finally help you resolve your issues.

He's not sure why he keeps coming back to you. And he's especially not sure how the hell he managed to get himself caught up in a situation like this twice, especially after Taehyung had been clearly upset about the first time.

There's something about you he can't really pin-point. It's both scary, and exciting.

You're kneeling on a small heart-shaped pillow from your small couch, hands occupied and slicked up with your own spit as you caress his length, head of it warm inside your mouth as you lick and suck. You've offered, and he assumed it to be a joke- but the moment you got down between his legs, all of his usual control over things went out the window. He might appear to be the one in charge, right in this moment, but he's truly at your mercy.

It makes him anxious. This shouldn't be happening.

But he can't deny the appeal of you taking care of him so well- it feels scarily intimate to have you between his legs like this, eyes closed as you seem to enjoy yourself, mostly due to his own hand reaching out to run his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face and taking the chance to offer some form of affection before he collects your hair in his fist for a second, long sigh escaping him as he feels the tip of your tongue push against the head of his cock, dipping into the small point, before you adjust your legs, letting go of him for just a second to lick from the base to the very tip once more.

You're a succubus, hidden behind a pretty face and sinful body.

He's not sure what your motivation is, hasn't really figured it out for the first time either. There's this little devil on his shoulder constantly urging him to accept your advances and let himself go, but the angel is louder, and keeps on feeding him doubts about the whole thing. He's consumed by his work, he doesn't have time for you, he can't offer you what you might want from a relationship. He doesn't even know if he himself is ready for something like that- he knows he should be, considering how long ago his divorce had been finished, but it's still odd to think about it. He's scarred by what went down, and doesn't want to go through this again.

He can handle being hated by one person he used to love. He wouldn't be able to have two doing the same.

It made him wonder if he's even someone worthy of having a relationship. Does he have enough to offer you that's not physical or monetary? No. He doesn't have time, he's awkward as hell, he doesn't like parties and rather enjoys laid back vacations somewhere no one knows him- if he even takes one at all. He wants a quiet life-

A quiet life?

'it's a quiet life I'm living, which is nice.'

Maybe it's your hands on his cock, the back of your tongue over his tip, or the way your fingers suddenly move to massage his balls just right- but he's facing this horribly ironic moment of both pleasure and realization at the same time as his cum shoots into your mouth, lips sealed over the head to suck him for all he's got. His hand keeps pushing your head, fingers digging into your hair, and you moan quietly at the faint sting of it.

His head rests back on your couch. His hand loosens, letting you go, while his eyes stay closed, breath deep and uneven as he tries to calm himself. He doesn't even realize how you tuck him back into his underwear as he softens, though you leave the fly and belt untouched, instead moving to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

You wait. For what? You're not sure.

"I.." He starts, taking in a deep breath, a hand through his hair trying to sort him out again. "..you.."

"Was it good?" You wonder almost innocently, watching him amused.

He nods. "Very." He simply answers, brain dumb. He hates this.

"Nice." You smile, before you move to put the little pillow back on the couch. "Do you wanna.. leave right now? Or stay for coffee?" You wonder, treating this all way more casual than he is. He's not sure what to do. But he knows you need to talk about this.

"Can you come here for a second?" He asks, and you nod, putting down the mug you got out of the pantry, making your way over to him to sit on the couch next to him. "I hope you know this isn't.. needed. I honestly just wanted to help you out with rent." He urges, and you nod.

"I know." You say, making him feel a bit lighter. "Was that.. not something you wanted?" You worry, but he shakes his head.

"I'm.. I'll have to be honest here." He sighs, having closed his pants and adjusted himself prior already, not leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. He can't look at you- not if he wants to be honest and straight forward. "I'm not sure." He offers. "I think it's clear that there's an attraction going on- but I don't know how far this can go."

"I'm not in love with you or anything." You defend yourself. "Neither do I have a crush. I just like you." You shrug.

"That's good." He nods to himself. "It's good that you know that. That you... can distinguish it."

"I think your problem might have something to do with.. my age?" You wonder, and Jungkook turns his head towards you, eyes staying on your knees however. "Yoongi mentioned something once. That he has a friend who has some sort of mid-life crisis right now and thinks he's too old for everything." You giggle.

"And how do you know that would be me?" He calls you out a little offended.

"Because it just fits." You laugh. "You play around with Dae all the time, but the second someone watches you, you become all awkward. It's kinda sad." You admit.

"How so?" He wants to know.

"Because it's dumb." You say, leaning back against your couch.

"Maybe for you. But when you're my age-" He starts, and you suddenly start to laugh, cutting him off.

"See! That's how I know you're the one with the crisis!" You joke, hand hitting his shoulder playfully, and without any intention to hurt. "I'm not a kid. I can make my decisions just fine." You say.

"And your decision is?" He wonders, now looking at you.

"That I want to get to know you." You tell him. "I want to.. see where it goes." You offer.

"What if it goes nowhere?" He argues. "I can't promise you some fairytale love-story." He denies. "I'm divorced, I want children at some point, I don't like parties, I work long hours-"

"But that's stuff that we can work out, no?" You wonder. "Time is what you're scared of, right? Then how about this-" You say, suddenly sitting on your knees, body facing his. "Every day you're not trying is a day you could be spending in a more productive way. For example, by getting to know me. Trying out if your idea of a relationship aligns with mine, if your work schedule is too packed, all of that." You offer. "Right now, we could already be talking about more interesting things than the 'what-if'. Or, in your big-man-terms:" You joke, leaning closer to him. "You're wasting time."

"Have you ever considered a career in communication-training?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "You're awfully great at this." He praises, making you giggle.

"Nah, I like my normal nine-to-five." You say. "Even if it barely pays enough."

"Well I heard someone's taking care of rent at the moment." he offers, reaching out to tuck some hair behind your ear.

"Well, only for a month, so that's a bummer." You shrug, leaning into his hand now holding your cheek.

"..I'm not used to being in a relationship." He sighs.

"We can start just being friends." You respond.

"I think we're a little past the general boundaries of friendship." He chuckles.

"Then friends who occasionally have sex." You roll your eyes.

"That's not very romantic." He argues.

"You can fuck me with music in the background?" You joke, and he shakes his head, laughing.

You're truly far more than he thought you are, and he's not sure if he's worth your time. But he wants to be. Looking at you, right now, he wants to be worth it. He wants to put the effort into it, even if it doesn't work out in the end. He wants to try- so that even if you don't fit, you at least had some good memories together that were worth the time spent.

He wants to try.

Even if it's a mistake.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic

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muzansfangs · 1 year

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Byakuya, Ichigo, and grimmjow finding f! Reader naked?

They accidentally see you naked.

Starring: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x f!reader; Ichigo Kurosaki x f!reader; Byakuya Kuchiki x f!reader;

Format: short imagines;

Warnings: nsfw, Ichigo is aged up and around his twenties, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, nipple play, implied sexual tension on previous encounters, f!reader, unprotected sex, horny thoughts, language, fluff, rough sex, biting, suggestive themes, mention to kidnapping in Grimmjow’s part, shower sex;

Plot: what happens when you are naked and they accidentally walk on you, catching a full glimpse of your bare body in all its glory? Hormones cannot always be contained.

PART ONE | PART TWO.

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Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.

Two weeks. You had been stuck in Las Noches for two weeks now. Not only you missed your family, your friends and your house, but you were frustrated over the fact that, apparently, you had been kidnapped only because you were Ichigo’s adoptive and older sister and Grimmjow wanted to irk his rival. Unfortunately for him, you had an attitude.

The day Grimmjow and Ulquiorra dragged you to Hueco Mundo, you were minding your business. It was such a serene night in Karakura Town and you had suggested to buy a cake in the nearby patisserie for enjoying a dessert with your friends. You had not even bothered wearing something nice. You were comfortable in your ripped jeans and sneakers. However, you knew that the t-shirt you were wearing could have drawn way too many glances. Therefore, you opted for wearing a jacket over it.

Obviously, you did not make it to the cake-shop. The sting on the side of your neck you suddenly felt as you crossed the road was a clear sign that someone had other plans for you. Your vision was blurry, but you could clearly discern the cheeky grin of the Espada that loathed your brother’s guts, as he stared down at you. The hot Espada, right. But that was a detail you were going to ignore for the time being.

You fainted several seconds after the impact, only to wake up in front of Aizen’s throne and find out to be the center of the attention of Hollows around you. The show was about to begin, though. As you started yelling at everyone how much you wished they all could explode like balloons in front of your eyes, Aizen simply ordered to give you a uniform and elegantly left the room. That decision was the cherry on top. Ulquiorra did not waste any precious time and handed you a white dress that matched the style of this ‘group of terrorists’, as you kept on calling them, but you scoffed and refused to wear it.

Grimmjow was not having it and thought and trying to unzip your jacket was a good idea. As you swatted his hands away, you had to eventually give up when he pinned your wrists above your head, as your back was pressed against the wall. The sneaky grin on his face, though, dropped as soon as the blue words printed on your white t-shirt came to his vision.

‘Blowjobs are jobs too’.

Your cheeks flushed up and Grimmjow let go of you in shock. But from that day he started to see you under a different light. You had always been pretty and he hated to admit how many times he had found himself fantasizing about how his hands could perfectly squeeze your ass as you bounced up and down on his shaft. He could not control himself and his lust for you grew with every argument you had.

The fact that you were a Kurosaki, even if you did not share Ichigo’s blood, made the whole deed even better. What a way to get back at his rival, if he could dig his claws into your flesh.

On the other hand, you were not indifferent to Grimmjow’s sharp features and abs. You hated to admit that he literally was your type and that you had wet dreams about him more than once. Getting to see him everyday in Las Noches was now driving you mad. You were glad Aizen had at least given you a chamber with a private bathroom. You had to admit that you allowed your mind to wonder and your hand to wander under the shower. His sharp canines, they did numbers on your mind and wished you could feel the way they grazed over your jugular. Just once, no one had to know about that.

Now, you easily got bored in the huge castle you were stuck in. You therefore asked Aizen if you could paint some parts of the walls in the hall that had cracked throughout the time. The stoic man had hesitantly agreed and now you were trying to keep yourself busy by painting over the ruined portions of walls in front of you. You were trying to balance yourself on the wooden ladder set against the wall, with a bucket of white paint in your hand and the brush in the other.

You knew you should have asked Ulquiorra to watch over you, but you were confident about your skills. Additionally, you had probably underestimated the presence of Grimmjow a few feet away from you.

“Tsk, what the hell are you doing up there? Do you want to break your neck?” his hoarse voice pierced your ears, making you roll your eyes in annoyance. There he was, ready to taunt you.

You sighed and tried to keep your balance as you gave him a flat reply, your tone almost apathetic at this point “Why do you care? Mind your business”.

Grimmjow cocked his head to the side, his trademark smirk plastered over his face as her let his eyes scrutinize the way the tight skirt of your dress emphasized the curve of ass. A delicious meal for him.

“Nah, if you die, I’d lose my plaything. Come on, let me help you” he teased you, hoping to get a reaction from you.

Oh, boy, he definitely did.

Your upper lip twitched, your grip on the brush tightening significantly as you tried not to slip from the creaking rung of that stupid ladder “Excuse me?!” you practically hissed, dipping your head down to glare at him.

Grimmjow grinned and arched his eyebrow at you “You heard me. Get your ass down here, plaything”.

You knew you should have asked Ulquiorra to help you and now, as you scoffed in indignation, ready to fire back an insult at him, you realized that you were screwed up. You never got to yell at Grimmjow, no. A strained scream left your mouth, as the sound of the thin wooden plank under your feet snapping pierced your ears. You did not see that coming for sure and so you fell. Loosening your grip on the brush and the bucket, you squeezed your eyes shut for inevitable impact with the floor. An impact that neve came as you felt two strong arms embrace you and yank you towards a toned chest.

You hesitantly opened your eyes, mouth slightly agape as you tried to steady your breath, when the bucket ended up pouring its content all over you two. You would have loved to to thank Grimmjow, but the first you did as you felt the paint stick on your hair, naked portions of skin and dress was cussing.

“Fuck!” you groaned, as Grimmjow snorted too and let you back down on the floor. Obviously, he had been a victim of the falling bucket as well. Some paint covered his messy hair and part of his chest and uniform.

Seeing him like this, in addition to the fact that he had saved your life, made you crack up a smile and shake your head softly. You two were a mess.

“Don’t you fucking dare to say anything! Let’s get this shitty paint off of us before it dries!” he grumbled, wrapping his hand around your wrist and marching towards your room. You quirked your eyebrows up, wondering why he was leading you back to your room. You did not have spare clothes for him, just a bathroom and, if he thought you were going to strip in front of him, he was clearly wrong.

As he opened the door of your room and let you in, he took off his jacket and threw it on the floor, his hands already reaching down to unbuckle his belt, as you finally squealed out in shock and turned your back at him.

“Grimmjow, what the hell are you doing! Don’t you dare undress in front of me!” you quipped, clasping your hand over your mouth. That was so embarrassing and you could feel cold sweat collecting in the back of your neck.

“What’s up now? Never seen a cock?” he sassed, dropping his pants down and walking to the bathroom naked. Your blood ran cold and you did your best not to turn around. He had never acted like that. This time you found yourself speechless and you could not even send him to hell.

As you heard him turn the shower on, you sighed and grabbed a towel from a drawer. You hastily undress yourself and wrapped the pink item around your naked body. You waited for him to get out ot the shower, confident that he had not seen a single glimpse of your body. But you were wrong.

The panther boy accidentally saw your naked ass through the mirror in your bathroom. The open door had granted it the full view of the bedroom and now he was practically growling in the cubicle with a painful boner. No, it was enough. This time you were going to take care of the problem you had caused.

Grimmjow stormed out of the bathroom, not caring about covering himself and making you gawk at the scenery before your eyes. He tugged your towel away and kissed you passionately, not giving you time to process what is was happening. You barely did, in fact. Your brain slowly started to process what your own body was doing, when you found yourself into the shower with Grimmjow’s fingere buried into your core.

You wanted him. You wanted him so badly and as he bit onto the crook of your neck, thrusting his fingers into you, you moaned softly and closed your eyes in bliss.

“What happens in Las Noches stays in Las Noches” he purred in your ear, only to receive your sassy reply.

“It was Las Vegas, you ignorant cat” you breathed out, before he involved you into a fervent kiss that made your inner walls clench around his fingers.

‘Sorry Ichigo. I could not resist’ was your last thought before you reached your climax.

Ichigo Kurosaki.

Being Urahara’s adoptive daughter was a privilege. Life was great, really, but since your father had started training Ichigo Kurosaki and his friends things were messy. You had no time to rest and practically zero privacy. Your house and shop had been opened to Soul Reapers and humans, coming over to ask for help at any hour of the day. Including night, obviously.

Despite that, you had bonded with the entire group of ‘heroes wannabe’, as you teasingly addressed them.

Yet, there was one out of them that had caught your eye and it was not just for his appearence. Ichigo Kurosaki, the invincible guy that had rescued Rukia Kuchiki and was now trying to take down Aizen, was living rent free in your mind. More than once, while you watched your father teach him new strategies and help him improve his skills, you had found yourself staring intently at the way his muscular arms flexed every time he unsheathed his sword.

You had carved in your mind the way his t-shirt emphasized the outline of his abs and you had to avert your eyes from him, when droplets of sweat made his body glisten. Your mind was wild, you imagined too many things for your own good.

You often laid in your bed, eyes closed, back arching for waves of pleasure, at the thought of his sweaty face hovering over yours as he thrusted into you. You wanted him, you wanted him more than anything else on this Earth. You wished to see the sweat beading his forehead up close, you wanted that sweat to scream your name. Things were heated, whenever your father ordered you to help him train.

A hand to hand fight was probably going to be the cause of your death, one day or another. Sometimes, as you fought, you ended up rolling onto the ground. His hot body against yours and those flames blazing in his eyes got you weak on your knees.

Once, you had ended up topping him. Your hand way laying flat onto his chest, as you straddled him. You were both sweaty, panting, your clothed intimacies pressed down against one another. In that very moment, as you tried to stand up and shifted your position, he groaned softly. You did not fail to notice the way his cheeks flushed, or feel how something was twitching underneath the fabric of his trousers.

That had happened a week ago and, since then, you were avoiding meeting him around your father’s shop. You were too embarrassed at the thought that you had practically felt his boner like that.

Now, that infamous morning, you were relaxing a bit into the bathtub. Urahara and the others had left for taking care of some business out of town and you had to watch over the shop while they were gone. However, you were too tired and stressed out to deny yourself some self-indulgent pleasure.

Some bubbles were floating in the air as you let the warm water and soap envelope your naked frame and you did not hear at all the door of the bathroom creak open. When you heard your phone buzz, you raised up in the tub, your naked back and ass in full display as you reached for your device.

But Ichigo’s eyes, oh dear, they went wide as he ended up toppling over a vase, as he stumbled into the bathroom. You were a vision, the emblem of perfection, and he clasped his hand over his mouth in shock, as the sound of the object shattering on the floor made you both flinch.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” he fretted, panicking as he tried to cover his eyes.

You, on the other hand, had dropped your phone on the floor too and had hastily slided back into the tub to hide your naked form from him. It was such a pleasurable nightmare!

“Ichigo! What the hell are you doing here?!” you blurted out, hoping a supermassive black hole could suck you in right on the spot.

“I was searching for Urahara!” he defended himself, turning his back at you and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“In the bathroom?!”.

“Oh shut up! I needed to use the bathroom too!” he snapped back, not knowing what to say anymore.

There was no way out from the carousel of shame and awkwardness, therefore you took the matter in your hands and quickly grasped a towel, hopping out of the shower and wrapping it around your body. You needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

As your shoulder brushed against his, though, Ichigo squeezed his eyes shut for a second before pinning you against the wall and kissing you out of the blue. You inhaled sharply, not expecting it, but, as soon as you collected yourself from the shock, you kissed him back and tangled your fingers through his spiky orange hair.

It was a kiss full of hunger, just like his hand, slipping underneath your towel and searching for your folds. You moaned softly against his lips, raving into the longed sensation you were finally experiencing.

“Let’s hope your father doesn’t come home earlier now” he rasped, plunging his fingers into your core as you lolled your head back against the wall in pleasure.

“If he does, I’ll tell Aizen how to fucking use that stupid device at his full potential” you joked, smiling against his lips.

Thinking about it now, you were so glad your father had messed up your lives with Ichigo’s group of friends.

Byakuya Kuchiki.

Drenched in sweat, you were running up to the Kuchiki Estate. Training under the scorching sun for hours had truly drained you. Yet, you were determined to get stronger and help to fight Aizen and his crew of Arrancar. When Rukia had suggested to Orihime to visit the Soul Society and spend some days together to hone her abilities, you had decided to join them.

It was your chance to put yourself to the test and, actually, even an excuse to see the new friends you had made in the Seireitei. However, you had to be honest to yourself and admit that there was one special person you wanted to see again. You had hated his guts, when you first met. It was a miracle that he had not slashed your chest open too when you tried to prevent Rukia’s return to the Soul Society. Yet, things had changed.

Byakuya Kuchiki was not only a cold-hearted, stoic and sophisticated man. He was much more than that and you had started to see it too.

He was not much of a talker, but he was handsome as hell and he had even offered you his help in trying to become a better Sobstitute Shinigami. You naturally found it odd, but you were in no position to refuse his help. However, the recent events had forced you to part ways again and you had missed him too much not to come back to the Soul Society and see him again.

Throughout your permanence, Rukia was allowing you to sleep over at the Kuchiki Estate but, much to your dismay, you never crossed paths with him. Not even once. It was horribly ironic, but you were partially glad he could not hear your soft moans in the dead of the night, when you touched yourself thinking about him and how his hands rested on your hips when he adjusted your position during a training session.

You missed his touch, his cologne, the way his chest grazed over your head when you were that close. Whenever he scolded you for being too distracted, you had to bite on your tongue not to blurt out that it was his fault. Your close proximity truly made your grip on your katana falter. He was messing with your head in a way you could not fully comprehend and you wondered if he was conscious of the way he affected you.

Now, as you stormed into the room Rukia let you sleep in, you quickly started taking off your uniform. You craved a shower and some fresh clothes more than anything right now. You dropped your pants to the floor and you quickly took off your shirt as well, as you already imagined the way the hot water would have made your aching muscles relax.

But as you finally reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, someone had returned to his Estate. His feather-like steps could not be heard at all and you simply discarded your bra too, sighing in relief as your breasts were free from any restriction. You were still humming in satisfaction with your eyes closed, when the door of your room slided up and a gasp of shock left Byakuya’s lips.

He was for some reason unable to move, his eyes locked on the curve of your breasts, staring at your nipples as if he was admiring some greek statute of a goddess. He cursed himself for his lack of decency and he felt mortified as you opened back your eyes and you met his gaze.

“Byakuya!” you squeaked out, cheeks heating up in shame as you grasped your shirt anf tried to cover your upper body from his eyes. Honestly, you had never felt that ashamed in your whole life.

The Captain of the Sixth Division cleared his throat and averted his eyes from you, his body clearly reacting to the vision he had just been blessed with. He could not pretend he had not seen you like that and, obviously, you would have never forgotten such an indecent accident. There were plenty of things he could say, but just one thing he wanted to do.

He slowly darted his eyes back on your frame, his lips slightly parted as he walked up to you. With every step he took towards you, your heart skipped a beat and your legs quivered. You could not read his mind, but his body language was pretty clear at this point.

His hand gently grasped your wrist, inviting you to loosen your grip on the shirt impeding him to admire your chest and, under the spell of his touch, you obliged his request. As the item fell at your feet, Byakuya grasped your chin and made sure you kept the eye-contact with him as he gently captured your lips with his ones.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as, standing on your toes to reach his lips better, you returned the kiss with equal hunger and gentleness. His hands, however, were already exploring your body.

The Captain definitely knew what he was doing as he took your nipple between his index and thumb, pinching it softly and massaging it with a mastery of a man that had been married and knew how to please a woman.

As the first moans were elicited from you, Byakuya stroked your cheek with his free hand and let you lay down on the futon underneath him “Please, allow me to have you. I promise I’ll make sure you are comfortable with me” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

And that, my dear, was an oath he stack up to through the rest of the evening.

TAGS: @byakuyawifey

#grimmjow smut #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow headcanons #grimmjow x you #grimmjow x y/n #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #byakuya x you #byakuya x reader #byakuya smut #byakuya kuchiki x reader #kuchiki byakuya x reader #ichigo x reader #ichigo x you #ichigo kurosaki x reader #ichigo x y/n #kurosaki ichigo x reader #bleach x reader

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iamnmbr3 · 6 months

Text

I find it incredibly creepy how Dumbledore views Riddle as being this sort of inherently seductive 'femme fatale' type. In book 6 he implies that Tom used his looks to endear himself to his teachers when he started school and hide his supposedly inherently evil and corrupt nature.

Like. Albus. DUDE. Tom was ELEVEN. Why would you assume that teachers would be swayed by or even paying attention to the attractiveness of an eleven year old?! WTAF?

And then he portrays the Hepzibah Smith memory as another example of Tom using his seductive charms for evil. But although he does bring her flowers he doesn't do anything else to encourage her and in fact seems uncomfortable and determined to keep the conversation focused on work.

She is actually the one who is being creepy here given the power differential between them. I mean, yes, Tom is putting up with her because it suits his designs for the moment and could and would kill her in a second if provoked. But even though we know that she certainly doesn't. As far as she knows she's creeping on this young store clerk without wealth or connections whose job depends on keeping her happy.

And certainly while she enjoys his looks and his attention she also seems quite happy with the persona he puts on where he addresses her in a highly respectful manner, not as an equal. She's certainly not complaining about how he calls her Miss Hepzibah or asking him to drop the honorific. She likes that. She likes that he addresses her not much differently than how her House Elf does. She likes his whole "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told" thing. And as far as she knows he is just that, with no particular special power or talent other than his good looks which she evidently appreciates. This is not him leading on and taking advantage of an innocent sweet old lady.

And yes he brings her flowers, presumably to keep her happy, but other than that he tries to keep the conversation professional and steer the discussion towards the purpose of his visit. He doesn't say anything overtly flirtatious or even try to prolong their discussion by asking to see some of her other things.

She brings that up on her own. Nor is there any indication that he is the one that decided to move their relationship in this direction. It seems more like she saw a young and good looking man, apparently far below her in terms of station and magical power, and made her move. He probably isn't the first.

The way she casually touches him is just so creepy to me. And though he tolerates it, he did nothing to encourage or solicit it. Riddle is someone who is in general quite averse to touch. We only see him voluntarily touch one person in 7 books and that's when he touches Harry, just for a second in book 4, just to show that he can. I don't think he enjoys this kind of attention. He was probably glad to kill her for more than just the purpose of getting the cup and the locket.

And yet none of her creepiness is acknowledged. Instead, Dumbledore draws our attention to how Riddle cruelly seduced and murdered a nice old lady whose affections he sought and then betrayed:

#Hepzibah Smith #Tom Riddle #Albus Dumbledore #do i need to tag #anti albus dumbledore #Tom Riddle meta #Harry Potter meta #my meta #Harry Potter #meta #my post #Dumbledore meta

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wttcsms · 9 months

Note

DRUNKEN CONFESSIONS WITH HIGURUMA PLEASE AND THANK YOU! (and maybe some nsfw if you're up to it?)

a rendering of regret, hiromi higuruma ;

pairing hiromi higuruma x f!reader word count 4.1k synopsis like everyone else who suffers from early onset midlife crisis syndrome, hiromi discovers two important things: he wishes he could fix things between you two and YOLO. like any other man with nothing to lose, he finds himself leaving the city and going back to his hometown, ready to be back in your good graces. content contains drinking, small town that sucks the life out of you but is home as the setting, being disappointed that growing up does not, in fact, solve all your problems, hiromi's mother is heavily implied to have committed su*cide, smut (riding hiromi, creampie, drunk sex)

Returning back to his hometown shouldn’t be as shameful of an ordeal as he makes it out to be, but the thing is, when you make a big show out of outgrowing small-town life, only to come back when it turns out the Real World sucks the soul out of you, it all becomes startlingly clear that you were never supposed to make it out in the first place. Becoming a hotshot attorney in Tokyo quickly disillusions any and all grandeur of being special and adulthood for Hiromi Higuruma, resident prodigy.

It turns out that city living is even worse than a quaint little town because, while there’s really nothing to do back home, there is entirely too much going on in Tokyo. The subway is always crowded and reeks of B.O., cheap perfume, overpowering cologne, and crushed dreams. There is never not a case that needs his immediate attention. With so many people existing all in the same place, at the same time, it somehow becomes increasingly harder to form real, human connections.

He knows that his mental break was long overdue, and honestly, he’s just shocked that his snapping hadn’t occurred sooner. Innocent people get tried for crimes on a daily basis; he knows this. He goes into this job knowing this, and witnesses it firsthand. It shouldn’t hit him so hard, but you told him, once upon a time, that at his core, he’s a good person. Hiromi Higuruma doesn’t think that a good person would punch both the prosecutor and the judge, but it certainly made him feel good.

The justice system is a sham, and growing up sucks. Hiromi thinks that for someone who popped out his mother’s womb a full-blown genius, he was a bit slow on the uptake when it came to realizing these two monumental truths. He decides not to waste any more time on trying to tackle the world’s problems on how he used to do, which is rationally and with a clear-head. Lately, Hiromi’s just been letting the intrusive thoughts win more often than not. He’s certainly not punching judges in the courtroom, but he tests out new experiences when he’s feeling particularly adventurous.

Adulthood is all about being able to take a bath in your suit and tie, and no one can give you shit about it besides yourself. There are absolutely no consequences to doing this, and Hiromi thinks people should advertise adulthood as getting to do batshit crazy things to yourself without fear of a scolding. That is much more realistic and sounds much more promising than bullshit like you’re going to change the world. The world sucks. Everybody sucks. Tokyo sucks. His hometown sucks. He sucks.

Perhaps the only good thing to come out of this life is you. You, Hiromi thinks, are the only person in the world who he can never look at differently.

Hiromi realizes too late that when you spend your whole life running from something, it eventually catches up to you, and it usually does whenever you’re out of breath and decidedly not prepared for life and past regrets to start pummeling you into the gravel. Hiromi has spent literal years avoiding any trace of you, and now he’s back home, probably worse off than he was when he originally decided to ditch this place, and his biggest past regret is standing in the staff lounge, making coffee from the communal coffee machine.

A shame, really. It’s almost embarrassing to be a grown man who gets literal heart eyes whenever he sees you. It’s doubly embarrassing whenever he realizes it’s been a decade since he’s last seen you, and that somehow, you still manage to make his heart get all hyperactive on him.

“Hi, stranger,” you say, pretending like the fucking ghost of Christmas Past isn’t standing in the staff lounge of the community college you work at.

“Hi,” he says, because for all his booksmarts, he can’t seem to come up with anything better. When he first skipped town, not even bothering to walk the stage for graduation, there had been a lot left unsaid between the two of you. Bringing up the past now, dredging up buried memories, seems like a bad idea.

“You must be the new law instructor.”

“Yes.” Apparently, as eloquent as he can be when it comes to defending his clients, he sure as shit is awful when it comes to saying the right thing to you. Then again, there are no instruction manuals to reference when it comes to facing your ex-girlfriend from high school who you never actually properly broken up with, just ghosted.

You stare at him, study him for just a second. Take in his tired appearance. The circles under his eyes. An apathetic expression you aren’t quite used to. Strands of hair still stick up a bit in the back of his head and a few more hang in his face — that, at least, is one thing that hasn’t changed.

“Good for you.” You tell him, and you leave it at that.

Hiromi Higuruma returning back to this shithole is certainly not on your bingo card on situations you thought would occur this year. Growing up, you were convinced more than anybody that Hiromi didn’t belong here. Not because of his appearance or the fact that his household was infamous for being a loveless, lifeless shell of a home and family, but because if anybody was destined for bigger and better things in life, it certainly would be Hiromi.

He’s always been smart, to the point where the teachers would practically give him free rein to do whatever he wanted to during class because he already studied the material beforehand. Usually, he just spent this time helping you with your assignments. You remember making a comment to him in high school one time.

“I’m holding you back, aren’t I?” You poke the book he’s ignoring in favor of helping you edit your essay for English Lit.

“No,” he says, eyes glued to your paper. He’s erasing something.

“Sure I am. You could be doing anything else besides editing my paper.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do.”

“You shouldn’t.” He’s rewriting a sentence for you. “There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.”

“You should stop helping me, Higuruma.”

He finally looks up from the paper. “What?”

“You should stop helping me.” You yank back your essay, unceremoniously shoving it into your bookbag. “It’s bad for me in the long run.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll just keep on depending on you, and then what am I gonna do when you leave?”

You mention this hypothetical as if it’s a fact. As if he is one hundred percent going to ditch this town and everybody in it. At the time you’re saying this, he doesn’t even know he’s going to leave yet.

“What makes you think I’m leaving?”

“You’ll die if you stay here.” Looking back, it’s comical how teenagers have a bad habit of voicing assumptions and then presenting them as fact. Hiromi Higuruma is the type of guy who cares so damn much about people and the state of the world, no matter where he goes, death’s going to follow. Caring is killer.

“Even if I do leave, I’d want you to come with me.” He doesn’t know why he says this, but he knows that it’s the truth. If you want to stay here, that’s the only reason he needs to stay. If you want to go, he’ll have his bags packed.

You search his eyes, looking for a possibility that he’s just saying stuff to appease you. Apparently, you find the sincerity you’re looking for because you give him a bright smile, hands already digging in your bookbag in search of your now-crumbled up essay.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

He seals the deal by interlocking his pinky with yours. This is a sacred act. You made it a strict rule in your friendship, and Hiromi is a stickler for rules. You can’t break a pinky promise; it’s the type of vow that transcends legality. To break a pinky promise would be to break off your friendship, make it null and void. So, when the time to walk the stage and receive your diploma in front of the town comes, you’re confused as to why Hiromi isn’t there. He’s not home, either.

Hiromi left, his dad tells you. He looks like Hiromi, but since that’s his father, it’s the other way around. The only difference, besides the fact that he is a grown-up, is that Mr. Higuruma has what you call dead eyes. Lifeless. Like, he’s looking, but he’s not really seeing what’s there. He talks funny, too. All flat and emotionless, like he’s perpetually unbothered. You can’t even tell how he feels about his son’s departure, or the fact that there’s a teenage girl on his doorstep at seven in the evening, still wearing your cap and gown.

“Do you know where to?” You ask Mr. Higuruma, still hopeful, still feeling the ghost of his pinky twisted around yours.

“Tokyo.”

That checks out. You always knew Hiromi was meant for something more.

“I’m shocked he’s not put behind bars,” Yuki tells you, wiping down the bar counter. “Didn’t you hear what went down in the courtroom with him and that judge?”

It had made the news. You normally don’t care to tune in, but it was something that concerned Hiromi. Of course you heard all about it.

“I just don’t know what he’s doing back here.”

“This place is a dump. ‘Course someone down on their luck is gonna come slinking back in here.”

“Yuki…” You look at your best friend. “Didn’t you technically come back, too?”

“Well I never said I wasn’t down on my luck, now did I?” You can’t imagine someone like Yuki having to come back home with her tail tucked in between her legs. Yuki is the opposite of a loser; while the world beats people to a pulp, Yuki curbstomps the world. If Tokyo managed to send Yuki and Hiromi packing their bags, you don’t want to leave your hometown. Ever.

You meet Hiromi in grade school. Your town is too small to actually have its own public school, and so all the kids from home walk the two miles to the designated bus stop where this ugly, wretched faded yellow deathtrap on wheels comes squeaking and squealing to pick you up and take you all to the nearest city’s school.

Everyone knows that you all are the students from the rinky-dink town that’s such a shithole that it can’t even produce its own school. Finding work in that town is hard enough as it is, but you grow up used to being surrounded by your other financial equals. It’s hard to find your footing amongst a crowd of kids who get new shoes every school year and can afford the fancy crayons. You know, the ones that aren’t just glorified lumps of colored wax that would probably work better as candles instead of cheap art supplies.

Hiromi gets most of the city students’ attention, though. It’s not as if it’s a surprise to you that they like to pick on him for his nose — it’s like the joke’s practically staring them right in the face.

You are surprised, though, that he takes it so hard. He’s sitting alone at the front of the bus, staring out the window, and you think you catch a tear running down his cheek.

You know that Hiromi is always early to a fault; he waits outside for the bus a good thirty minutes before it’s even scheduled to show up, just to ensure that he won’t miss it. You have to get up extra early as a result because you think it would be better to try to make friends with Hiromi without an audience.

Before you can lose all confidence in yourself, you go for it. You take one grubby little hand of yours and swipe awfully close to his face, nearly hitting his nose in the process.

“Got your nose!” You wave your hand in the air, smile slowly falling when you realize that he doesn’t look amused. “Sorry. I was trying to help.”

“How was that supposed to help?” He doesn’t sound mean when he says it. He sounds curious, like he’s genuinely trying to hear you out. You will soon learn that that is the type of person Hiromi is. He might be the only person in the world who doesn’t judge someone within the first five seconds of meeting them.

“Y’know, so when the other kids in school make fun of your nose, you know they’re lying.”

“How would they be lying?”

“‘Cause I got your nose. How are they making fun of something they can’t see?”

Logically, young Hiromi knows that this is not the case. His big, fat nose is still smack dab in the center of his face, and the “nose” you captured is just your tiny thumb tucked under your fingers. Logical thinking is no fun, though, so Hiromi goes with it, and the two of you have been inseparable ever since.

Hiromi Higuruma has a lot of regrets, actually. In his mental tier list, the bottom of the barrel shit is made up of petty things, like not punching his grade school bullies in the face for being little assholes, or not trying Kitakata ramen when he had the chance. Then, there’s the stuff just a level above, which is less-silly things, like how he regrets the way he handled certain cases and the fact that in his haste to return home, he didn’t pack a pair of comfortable house slippers, and the ones he bought at the only convenience store in town feel too stiff.

At the very top, his biggest regrets are all centered around you. This isn’t to say that he regrets you, but he does know that his treatment of you haunts him during the nights he lies awake in bed and wonders why the fuck life sucks so hard. He hates that he didn’t admit to you that he liked you sooner, that he wasted so many of his high school days awkwardly trying to hide the fact that he’s hopelessly devoted to you. He hates that he didn’t get a chance to take you to prom. He hates that he didn’t tell you that he was leaving, that he didn’t think to bring you with him, that he never called or texted after he left because he was too embarrassed and scared at the prospect of you not wanting to hear from him after how he left without a trace. He regrets not telling you why he left, that he caught his father and his mistress together, and how disgusted he felt at seeing such a sight. That the next day, he vowed to tell his mother, only to knock on her bedroom door (it’s no surprise that his parents never shared the same bed for as long as Hiromi could remember), and when she didn’t answer, he opened the door, only to be greeted by her still body in bed, three empty orange pill bottles on the nightstand.

He couldn’t have stayed, and he was rendered speechless. Final transcripts had already been released, and walking for graduation was optional. Hiromi took whatever meager savings he had, clicked “accept” for his college admission to Tokyo U (full-ride, because if anyone was going to get a scholarship based on academic merit, it would be Hiromi), and skipped town. Everything in the world to him appeared to be in shades of black and white, the occasional bright orange catching his eye, haunting him, taunting him.

Life is too short, though. Too short to waste time in bed, in an apartment he hates located in a city he despises, to look back at all his shortcomings. If he could go back in time and do things differently, he would. He wouldn’t have punched that judge or the prosecutor (even if they totally did deserve it), and he wouldn’t have kept his acceptance into Tokyo U a secret from you. He would have taken you to prom, and he would’ve asked you to come with him to Tokyo, escape this dump of a town and take on the big city together. He thinks he probably would have hated Tokyo less if you were with him, you and your nonsensical logic that makes the worst things to ever happen to him suddenly seem bearable.

He should tell you all of this, but he’s drunk because Yuki is manning the bar, and she pours with a heavy hand. He never really spoke to the blonde despite the fact that they grew up down the street from each other, attended school at the exact same time, same grade, same everything. The downside of living here, it seems, is that everyone you’ve ever known is entirely unavoidable. You run into them everywhere. You want to drown your sorrows in amber liquid served in questionable, grimy glassware, and the person aiding in your slow death is the very girl who used to wake you up in the middle of the night due to the sound of her revving up her obnoxiously loud and ancient (she claims vintage) motorcycle that she bought for cheap at a junkyard.

The upside of living here, it seems, is that since everyone is unavoidable, you are running into him here.

You take a seat to his left, conveniently leaving one barstool between the two of you. Yuki is joking around with you, saying something that makes you laugh, and the urge to do something very stupid builds up in Hiromi. He’s been totally chill with the whole “letting the intrusive thoughts win” routine, but he wants to handle his relationship with you with a delicate hand.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks you, hoping that his words don’t come out slurred.

“I’d normally say yes, but Yuki gives me my drinks on the house.”

Yuki yanks back the drink she made you. “If Ace Attorney over here wants to pay for your drink, you’re getting charged, hon. Sorry. Girl’s gotta make a living.”

Conversation with Hiromi comes naturally to you. Everything you do with Hiromi comes naturally. The alcohol helps warm you right back up to him, dormant feelings now coming back to life. You think you’re too old to have butterflies in your tummy when you make tequila-induced attempts at flirting with him (at least, you think you’re flirting; it’s been a while since you actually tried). You think that you definitely don’t give a shit whenever he plays along, because that’s just what he does, what he always has been doing.

When he left, everyone in town was under the impression that Hiromi had been stringing you along. The fact of the matter is, you have Hiromi wrapped around your finger to the point where he doesn’t think he could ever get unstuck.

Everything you do with Hiromi comes naturally, and it’s only natural to have him walk you back to your apartment. It’s only natural that you invite him inside to “catch up” some more, and it’s only natural that “catching up” involves you grinding on his lap, sinking his body deeper into the pink loveseat in your living room.

Your dress is tugged up to your waist because easy access means you don’t have to get naked to get dicked down. Hiromi’s suit pants are admittedly not made for quick fucks, but if there’s a will, there’s a way. His pants are unzipped, briefs adjusted enough so that his dick can unceremoniously be freed from its confines and make its way to where it truly belongs, which is buried deep inside the warmth of your cunt.

Hiromi finds pleasure in the discomfort of it all. If he was doing this with anyone else, he’d be hyper aware of the stiffness of his dry cleaned suit, and how the loveseat seems to protest with the combined weight of you two rocking back and forth on top of it. He’d be too irritated with the way sex would wrinkle his clothes, and he probably wouldn’t even be this hard because he drinks so he has a valid excuse for never taking a woman home with him.

Because it’s you, everything is felt to the extreme, but you have this way, this charm, this spell, that makes everything that happens to Hiromi better. The best. You are the best he’s ever had, and he thinks he grunts this into your ear as you rest your body against his, upper body limp and boneless, your lower half moving up and down, trying to get a good angle so his cock can hit right there.

He kisses your shoulder, and he experimentally thrusts up, and you let out a string of moans that are interspersed with little breathy fuck’s, and he thinks this might be one of his most favorite sounds in the whole entire world. So he keeps thrusting, keeps relishing in the way your walls seem to clamp down on him, keeps enjoying the way you hang onto him and whimper out his name.

He is drunk, and he is in love, and he knows that he didn’t come here with the intention of fucking you boneless, but you don’t seem to mind, didn’t seem to mind when you kissed him first and started grinding on him, the catalyst to the situation he’s in now.

He planned on telling you the truth, the story about why he left, about how he feels stupid on how he handled the whole situation. The bourbon he downed earlier this night seems to be affecting his brain, though, because all he knows is that there is only one confession he is capable of giving to you right now.

“I love you.” He groans, his hands finding your waist, gripping hard. “Fuck, I love you. Never stopped.”

His cock feels too good when it's buried deep inside of you. You know it’s silly and stupid, but you want to tell Hiromi that you want him to fuck himself so deep that he can touch your heart with his dick. No other man would want to hear some creep shit like that, but Hiromi is Hiromi. He would get it. You drunkenly tell him your wish, and he lets out a little breathy laugh, rolls his hips, and rocks your world.

“I’ll give it my best shot.” He says, and because the alcohol tells him that his sobriety makes him a bitch, he reminds you once more. “I love you.”

You cum. The sex is drunken and messy, and while drunk sex usually happens in a blurry haze for you, you are seeing everything clearly. You can see the crease in between his brows as he concentrates on maintaining the perfect balance between relishing in your wetness and not overstimulating you. You can see the way his eyes greedily, lovingly, admire the messy sight of your joined bodies. You can see his nose, tall and as noticeable as ever, and so Hiromi.

You want to tell him that you love his nose, but speaking is hard when he dicks you down like this. All you can do is press a kiss to the tip of it. This only makes him tighten his grip on your waist, his thrusts getting more erratic, and then you feel a nice warmth flooding inside of you. The two of you are rational adults, and rational adults know that cumming inside should be a no-no between two people who have yet to establish what the fuck you are to each other.

“I love your nose.” You tell him, when you finally manage to catch your breath. He’s still buried inside of you, and you’re afraid that when he does eventually have to pull you off of him, everything’s going to come spilling out of you. The thought of separating from Hiromi makes you frown. You just got him back.

“I love you.” He says back, for the nth time this night. Maybe he’s making up for lost time. Maybe he’s just drunk. You don’t care. Hiromi is back, and even if he leaves again, you’re happy that he’s at least here with you right now.

“You’re drunk.”

“If I tell you when I’m sober, will you believe me?”

He’ll sober up tomorrow. If he tells you when he’s sober, that means he’ll have to stay. He won’t go.

“Yes.” You say, trying not to reveal the fact that you already believe him. Hiromi is not as impassive as he thinks he is. “Pinky promise.”

You feel the familiar warmth of his finger twisting ‘round yours.

“Pinky promise.”

#hiromi higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader #jjk x reader #smut #one shot #drabble #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #hiromi higuruma smut

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santrrl · 1 month

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Logan Howlett with Metalhead!reader, face piercings, tattoos, dark clothes - the whole get up.

i need grumpy x sunshine too, like reader actually being a cute little thing :')

L.H X METAL!HEAD READER

Author says; Thank you so much for your request!! I love doing them,l so this is gonna be the first of a few hopefully !<3 I LOVE this idea, and thus this is gonna be so fun to write !! HEHEHEHEH

The first and second part are split between bullet points, and then the actual story so i hope i got this right!! I'm so sorry if I didn't as i have only seen few x-men and dp+w, so i apologise if it's not good!!

BULLETS :

-Once he meets you at first he physically stops. Like, physically, shuts down for a moment.

-Bro was born in 1832, and somehow, this was his first time seeing so much piercings in so many...visible places. He was fine with ears, as long as it wasn't too bad, but more than three? He's gonna shake his head like a dad and shrug it off.

-At first he would probably think you're some emo, hormonal meanie, so when he finally takes a jab at you, he stops dead AGAIN. You? You wearing layer after layer of black n white are more energetic than he thought? What?

-at some point during your years of knowing each other, of course youre gonna be in his contacts. He never saw ':3' before, but..you learn something new every day.

-The first time he sees so many tats on one limb, he doesn't know whether to be amazed or turned on. So he opted for both.

-"Hey, you okay?" He'd smell the freshness of your new tats, and always find a way to let them be a excuse for him to talk to you.

-You look so....different, so mean, yet, you're so nice? He couldn't understand it. He loved being mean to the people that deserved it, why you felt bad and guilty? Over his head. But the pure fact you looked like a meanie, but weren't? God he wanted to destroy you.

FIC; (Kinda? Im so sorry if its bad, not correlating to the above)

"Welcome to Charles Xavier's school for gifted youngsters. I am Charles, by the way." The man in front of you would grin, opening the doors to the busy entrance. Some students were walking, others chatting and others were showing off their mutations.

"This is where you'll be spending, ah, the majority of your time." Charles grinned, snatching a paper plane out of the air. "Easy, Rodger." He smiled at the boy, who flushed red. As quickly as he turned red, he also turned as white as your eye shadow. And blush. And everything else that you had on that was white currently.

He quickly scurried off, whispering to his friends. "They'll get used to you in time. They think you're cool." Charles chuckled. As you made your way through the tour of the school, you eventually landed back to where you had started. "Any questions?" Charles asked innocently.

"I got one. The fuck Casper the ghost doin' here?" A gruff voice perked up, as I looked behind Charles. The man coming down the stairs practically had a halo on him with the way he had descended the staircase, white wife beater stained from God only knows what.

"Logan." Charles warned. "This is Logan, Logan, this is our newest addition." He introduced. "Keep this one away from magneto, all those piercings." He grimaced. "Oh, my god hi! I've seen so much of you! You're so cool my family adores you so much-"

Logan was confused. He didn't know what to be more confused about, the fact you looked so mean but were sweet, or the fact your rambling went on for eighteen minutes. He wasn't mad about it though. If anything it was...pleasant?

After a few days at the mansion, seeing what you could do, you ironically became quick friends with the rugged man. Even people who had never seen him smile were asking you what it was like. The press had deemed you two - 'Bumblebee team.' Mainly due to your black attire, and his majority yellow view.

And also because it sounded like grumble and hee, implying his grumpy nature and your happy outlook. The media seemed to love you more than hate you however, the nickname ghost, and vampire among others being thrown around, alongside your chosen name.

It only took a few months before the man found himself being more attached. Demanding he be with you on missions, protecting you at all cost, it only took so much in him to not flip you under him when he saw how truly tatted up you were, when after a fight majority of your costume had ripped.

He even went to such lengths as waiting for you every morning to walk you to breakfast, lunch, whatever. "Bub can't the makeup wait?'' He'd sigh, before turning around, already knowing he wasn't winning this fight as your music played in the background, drowning out the sound of a shoe hitting him.

Eventually, he got so fed up of waiting at one point, he just leaned over your desk, and wiped your lips with his thumb, before kissing you and walking away, obviously making you follow. "Just a way to make you hurry up." He'd laugh. LIES.

Those kisses eventually led to heated makeouts, and safe to say, you'd be fixing your makeup more than a few times a day.

IM SO SORRY IF ITS BAD LEMME KNOW AND ILL REWRITE <33

#xmen #x-men #loganhowlett #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #xmen x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #send more please i beg

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kairisea · 4 days

Text

🌊𓈒𓏸Something New𓏸𓈒🌊

SUMMARY: You and Kinich are officially a couple, and despite the awkwardness of the whole thing (since you're both new at relationships), you wanted to get him something to show your appreciation.

NOTES: gn!reader x aroace Kinich, demiromantic/asexual, though neither is actually mentioned. Reader is implied to be a Natlan native. It's assumed you've done the AQ and his SQ, but should be fine to read without doing either

WARNINGS: None, really, just fluff

COMMENTS: I finished Kinich's quest, and fell deeper in love with him than I already was. So I wanted to write a fic in celebration of his release and quest! Though I must say, this is not the fic I intended to write. My brain wanted something else I guess.

Ever since you and Kinich started dating, things between you seemed awkward. It's not like you knew how to be romantic. And clearly, he was the same. You'd still hang out, and talk, and go places, but when it came to anything romantic, you both were hopelessly lost. Not for a lack of trying.

Ajaw would laugh at your every attempt at something romantic, as you failed spectacularly. Though if something got too corny or actually romantic, Ajaw would always become frustrated and leave. It was clear he just wanted to watch you struggle. He hated the lovey-dovey stuff.

You decided to ask your friends and research the subject, in hopes to become better. Your research led to a lot of fiction, which didn't seem like a good source of information to you. Your friends were able to give you some pointers, but they were mostly about flirting, which you thought was less than useful considering you were together already. Still, they at least had some useful tips.

So here you are, at a traveling merchant, looking through their stock. You're looking for something specific, and if anyone in Natlan would have it, it'd be a traveling merchant, since it doesn't grow here. The merchant seems to get a bit irritated, but then you lay your eyes on your prize. A Rainbow Rose. Native to Fontaine, your friends told you it was a symbol of love. Perfect to give to Kinich.

"I'll take one Rainbow Rose, please!" you asked the man.

"That'll be 7 thousand mora." he replied bluntly. 7 thousand?!?! you thought. That seems absurd! For one flower!? But it's not like I have any other options... You'd come all this way, determined to by a Rainbow Rose for him, and it's not like you didn't have the budget... you'd just have to cut out some other things off the list of things to buy.

You sighed. "Alright, I'll take it." Maybe you'd have been better going to Fontaine yourself, though going there probably wouldn't be an option even if you wanted to. You knew you could've tried haggling, but it was never your strong suit, plus this guy seemed pretty big, and you didn't want to anger him or anything. So you just handed over the mora.

"Pleasure doing business!" He seemed really proud of himself as he handed you the single rose. You debated asking for more, but you had only asked for one, and you were certain that's what he'd say back. Still, you had your gift. It was time to head to his house and give it to him. Let's just hope this didn't go horribly wrong...

You made your way to Kinich's home, building up the courage to knock. You wondered if he was even home. There was no way to tell without knocking, so that's what you did. You held the rose behind you, it had to be a surprise after all. You anxiously for an answer, thinking you had been right and he wasn't home. You knocked again just in case.

"Kiniiich! Are you deaf!? Someone's at the door! As a servant to the great K'uhul Ajaw, you oughta be quick to answer it!!!" You could hear Ajaw yell through the door. It was quite clear he wouldn't be the one to answer the door, but that was already assumed. At least you knew Kinich was home now.

"Calm down, Ajaw. If you're really that impatient you could've answered it yourself." You heard Kinich approach the door. Suddenly you were very aware of what you were about to do. Your nerves seemed like the could burst out of you at any moment. Your heart was running a marathon. As your thoughts were running, Kinich opened the door. "Oh, it's you. What brings you here?"

He seemed so calm. He never was really the type to be mushy gushy, and you appreciated that about him. Though it certainly didn't help your nerves. "Well, considering we're... well, partners. I wanted to get you something. To... show my appreciation! And... well... my love for you..." You trailed off in embarrassment, avoiding his gaze.

"Ahh, it's that human again! Well, do you have some entertainment for us? Another way to spectacularly fail?" Ajaw laughed. You and Kinich did not. "Or maybe you have a gift to offer to the Almighty Dragonlord, K'uhul Ajaw! Something to prove your worth?"

"They said it was a gift for me, not you. And don't make fun of us." He glared at Ajaw, and the saurian shut up with a 'hmph'. He mumbled something about disrespect, but you couldn't quite make it out. "Well? What do you have for me?"

You hoped Ajaw wouldn't make fun of you, and hoped Kinich would like it. "Well..." You pulled the rainbow rose out from behind your back, presenting it to him. "It's called a rainbow rose, from Fontaine. It... I heard it was a symbol of love... so I wanted to give you one." You looked at him from the corner or your eyes for his reaction.

"Hmph! I'm glad it's not an offering to us! A symbol of love? Tch. Perfect for you couple of lovebirds." Ajaw remarked

"We're hardly lovebirds, Ajaw. We're not that experienced. Besides, if you hate it so much, why don't you leave?" He queried Ajaw. "This is a lovely gift." He takes the flower from your hands. He didn't smile often, but you could see a small one on his face just then.

Ajaw hmphed away. "You like it?" you asked him, and he quickly nodded in response. "I'm glad." Suddenly, the 7 thousand mora felt entirely worth it. Though knowing Kinich, the next thing he was going to say would be-

"How much did it cost?" You sighed at his predictability.

"I'm not telling you this time. You don't have to pay me back, really." Knowing him, he still wouldn't accept that.

"If you won't tell me, I guess I'll have to find some other way to reimburse you." You knew he'd say something like that. You were also glad he didn't press on the price. Who knows what he'd say if you told him? "Why don't you come inside? I can get this flower in some water and we can... chill together."

"That sounds great." You tried not to seem too excited at the idea, but you couldn't hide your smile as you entered the house at his signal. You sat down on the couch as you watched Kinich pull out a vase, fill it with water, and put the rose in it. Afterwards, he came and sat down next to you on the couch. Once again, things were awkward. At least you got one good moment. Maybe this could be a good moment to loosen up?

"You two really are hopeless. Maybe I need to give you some pointers, because clearly you suck at this!" Ajaw seemed both annoyed, but also prideful, as if he really could teach you something about romance. Could he..?

I might end up making a part two to this, where Ajaw teaches you something, or you naturally learn it, and get more comfortable with Kinich. Idk, if you want to see a part two, let me know!

I also want to make a modern AU fic where you move in with Kinich, so let me know if you want to see that, too.

Also for the rainbow rose part, I want you to know I asked a friend for a number between 1 and 60 (hi friend) and they gave me 7 or 42. With 1 mora being 1 cent, I didn't want the poor reader to actually end up needing to spend $420 on a single rose XD If you're wondering why between 1 and 60, it's because 1,000 mora is the usual price for local specialties. But of course, there's someone in Ritou selling dandelion seeds for 60,000 mora, so that set my range for someone selling outside of a nation. Anyway just fun research stuff I spent too much time doing for little to no impact :) (Also yes that means the rainbow rose was $70 USD, pretty pricey if I do say so myself😬)

If you enjoyed this, feel free to learn more about me and what I do here! You can also see if my requests are open there if you want something yourself!

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tremendouscreationperson · 14 days

Text

A little fic based off of this

Whenever I write an X Reader it's usually for chubby!reader but it's actually a plot point in this one

Chubby/bullied!reader x stan

You, Ford, Caryn and Filbrick sat in the front row.

Stan had a big fight tonight, the only reason his father came, and you were nervously tapping your leg. His opponent, Godfrey Davies, was bigger and looked meaner but you knew Stan could potentially pull it off.

The two entered the ring and Stan gave you a cheeky wink before his eyes caught his father. His whole expression changed when he clocked Filbrick.

"He better win." Ford commented.

You knew what Ford was implying. If Stan lost in front of his dad he would be crushed. And Filbrick was the type of man who would leave if he was bored so Stan would also have to put on a good show.

The two touched gloves and the bell rang.

You weren't a huge boxing fan but wouldn't deny the rush a match gave you. The adrenaline of the room coursed through your veins as each punch landed. Godfrey was strong, he had hit Stan's stomach a few times but Stan was quick enough to dodge any major strikes.

Godfrey managed to land a blow against Stan's cheek and your hand grasped Fords.

You glanced at Ford as an excuse to spy on Filbrick but the man gave nothing away. Merely enjoying? the show.

In the split second your eyes were off of Stan, he had managed to gain the upper hand with a series of quick jabs against Godfrey's right side.

"He's hurt him." Ford informed you. "See the twitch."

You followed his fingers, unable to see the twitch, alas you trusted Ford's intelligence. If Ford said Stan hurt him then he hurt him.

The two danced around each other for the remainder of the round, there was a soft tap here and a dodge there but otherwise it was quiet.

The next round was similar. There were the odd moments of carnal violence sprinkled in between their dance but it was the third round that mattered.

Stan kept low and stayed with defence until Godfrey tired himself out - punching ludicrously hard against Stan's forearm block - and just when Godfrey stopped to pant, Stan whacked him with an uppercut.

As Stan took a sip of water, he turned in your direction, his pale skin beginning to pinken as it swelled up. He gave you all a sloppy smirk and when the bell rang again, there was a new fire in him.

Godfrey stumbled backwards, wobbling on his feet. Stan was on him in an instant punching him in the face and forcing the man to the floor.

The ref called it and everyone cheered.

He had won!

This was a big deal.

He could now fight in a higher tier.

This was really good news!

You released Ford from your hug and he ran over to his twin. The boys embraced, clapping each other's backs, grinning from ear to ear.

Caryn was next, she slipped in the hug, squeezing her babies tight. You knew she said a cheesy joke along the lines of 'I didn't need a crystal ball to know you'd win' because the twins rolled their eyes in sync but there was no real malice behind the gesture.

A photographer worked his way into the ring told the family to smile but Stan stopped the photo.

Filbrick finally made his move: a pat on the shoulder. You knew it meant the world to Stan. He deserved it. He really did. He was glorious.

"Wait, where's Y/N?" His eyes scanned the crowd that had formed, swarming the ring side. Unsurprisingly, he had a lot of groupies. People loved a big strong man and it didn't hurt that he looked like that.

It was his moment. He needed this. To be in a photo with his family. He could frame it.

They landed on you and you smiled, waving awkwardly as he gestured for you to join them. The room was noisy and people were still cheering, drinks being drunk, music blaring so he didn't hear your reply. You tried to call out again but in the end shook your head, sheepishly.

Besides, you'd only ruin it.

You weren't exactly pretty.

A fact that everyone had relentlessly told you at school.

The only reason you were still alive was Stan and Ford's friendship, otherwise you'd have had to fight the onslaught of insults alone and you really didn't think you were strong enough for that.

Stan frowned momentarily before forcing a smile for the photo.

"Doll face?" You were sitting, in your garden, on the swing your dad had made, reading the Lord of the Rings. Turning your head you found Stan. He was standing next to you, hands in pockets. He had bruises on his cheek and a split lip you hadn't noticed at the time.

"Hi." You smiled up, closing the book. "How'd's it feel to be a winner?"

Stan chuckled, plonking down on the swing next to you. Your dad had to install another when you eventually made friends. "'little sore."

"I bet you don't feel it because your dad was proud of you." You mock punched his arm. "He really was."

Stan swivelled on the swing, the rope twisting together as he spun around.

You suspected he had something to say so kept quiet until he found the words.

Stan let go, spinning until he was back in the correct place.

"You know you're gorgeous right?" The words tumbled out.

They took you aback. You hadn't ever thought those words would come out of his mouth. "Pardon?"

He let out a shaky breath, gazing up at the sky. "You're really pretty. I don't know why Jorgie and her gang tell you otherwise. Like a damn movie star."

Where had this come from? "Wh-"

"The photo." He answered without needing the question. "I wish you were in it."

You didn't know what to say or how to respond. The only thing you could think to do was shyly smile and reach for his hand.

"Filbrick, that's Y/N." You overheard Caryn whisper to her husband. They were in the Kitchen where you were planning on getting a drink. "She comes over all the time."

He huffed.

Did-did he not know who you were?

You were here every other day.

Hell, you once made the man dinner!

Caryn had been sick and the boys were useless so you came around and rustled up some grub for the four of them.

That was insulting.

"The fat one?" He questioned.

Fat?

Were you fat?

You glanced down at yourself, you could see your toes but maybe not as much as you should be able to?

"She's no-well, it doesn't matter. She's good for Stan..and Ford. Keeps them sane."

Caryn thought you were fat too?

You stepped away carefully, avoiding the spots in the wood that creaked, and nestled yourself back into the boys room. Settling next to Stan in his bed as they argued about nothing important.

You'd declined every offer Stan made to go out. You didn't want to look like you were avoiding him but his parents thought you were fat and that had shaken your self image.

You were obviously not thin in the mirror and people at school called you fat and ugly all the time. So much that part of you believed it and part of you brushed it off but to hear it from them... From people you trusted...

You knew you were nothing great to look at. Stan being sweet was just him trying to comfort you, you probably embarrassed them.

In an effort to beautiful yourself, your evenings were spent jogging mostly. It was awful and you hated it but you made sure to do it before dinner or you wouldn't eat.

"Oit." A voice called, you spun to see Stan running to catch up.

"Hey."

"What're we doing?" He fell into pace with you.

"Jogging." You offered.

"Har, har." He playfully shoved you. "Why are we jogging? It's the worst."

Your face split into a grin, loving how in sync the two of you were. "It really is! I hate it."

When you both rounded the corner, he repeated himself. "C'mon what are we doing?"

"Trying to lose weight." You answered.

"W-why?" Your reply had caught him completely off guard that he faltered. Stan had to speed up to match your pace again. "You don't need to."

A dark chuckle left you without your consent. "I heard someone talking-"

"Ignore the girls at school." He interrupted.

"It wasn't-" Jogging and talking was hard. "It was someone whose opinion I'd hate to admit I trust. They said it straight."

Stan made a face but didn't argue. He would let you win this round and later convince you to come to the diner and get a thick shake. He knew you weren't fat. Well, maybe you were but not in a bad way! You looked amazing! The meat on your bones was in all the right places. More to love like platonically.

Finally the two of you came to a stop outside your house.

"I don't think jeans were designed for running." Stan tried to pry the fabric off his thigh.

You giggled. "Don't blame me. I didn't ask you to join me."

"I'd never blame you, beautiful." He folded his arms. "Now, who do I have to beat up?"

Stan closed the distance, cupping your cheeks in his palms, forcing eye contact. "Tell me. 'cause you're perfect."

"No one." Your eyes rolled automatically.

"Hey, don't do that."

"I'm not doing anyth-"

Why had he decided to be all sweet and flirty recently? He did know you were the butt of every joke, right? Like everyone else, he was well aware that boys would ask you out as a prank. Was this one? No, not your Stan.

Well he wasn't your Stan.

"Earth to Y/N." He manipulated your head, swaying it gently side to side.

"Huh?"

"Who called you fat?"

The words seemed to leave your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. Your mind hadn't even registered properly and they were released into the world. "Your parents."

The neutral expression morphed into anger. Stan's brows pulled as his pupils shrunk. A twitch occurred in his jaw. "My dad?"

"Your mom, too." You shrugged. "It's nothing massive, it's actually helpful. Now I know it's true I can-"

"No." He shook his head. "No, it's not. It's mean." Stan placed his forehead against yours and took in a breath. "When I say you are perfect, believe it. Don't change anything. Please, doll."

The new few months played out in the usual fashion. You'd go to school, then theirs, they'd come to yours, the three of you would worry about test results, studying was tricky when the boys were helping. It didn't take long before all the exams were finished and the school year was coming to a close meaning prom.

You and the twins went together. None of you officially had dates but that didn't matter because it was always you three vs the world.

A triangle was the strongest shape after all.

You arrived at the Pines house on time, barely giving the door a knock before it swung open. Stan was quick to exit and pulled you towards the car.

He didn't look back, settling you into the passenger seat as he rounded the car to the driver's.

"Stan?" You glanced at the front door. "Everything okay?" Caryn had begged you to come in and take photos less than a week ago. Maybe Stan knew you were embarrassed or maybe he was going back on his words... Maybe he was embarrassed of you.

Stan gave you a curt nod, his palms tightening in the steering wheel. You watched the knuckles whiten on his left hand before his right pulled your gaze. There was blood on them.

As if on cue Ford left the house, closing the door behind him and strode towards the car.

Why was there blood on his knuckles?!

"Where's Ford?"

He slipped into the backseat and gave you a sheepish smile.

The car journey was blessedly short and weird to say the least.

You distracted yourself with the radio.

At school you took the obligatory "couple" photo. You stood between the boys arm in arm. Even if it was fake, it was the first time Stan smiled tonight.

You were led to the gym - they had dressed it up for a party but it was still just your school gym - and found a spot to stand and people watch.

Ford attempted to make small talk with others but he wasn't hugely successful, coming back each time with an 'aww shucks'. At least he didn't have punch thrown at him. Silver linings and all that, hey?

Stan was still being strange so you let him be. Sometimes he went quiet when he was thinking too hard. You hoped he was able to at least enjoy a bit of the evening.

He had just excused himself to use the toilet when Ford sprinted back to your side. "Finally!"

"What?!"

"He punched dad." Ford whispered.

Huh, it sounded like Ford told you Stan had punched Filbrick but that would be insane. "Care to run that by me again?"

"Dad said something and Stan shouted before he just socked him. It was intense. Dad then shook his hand!"

What?!

"Wait, I don't get it." You frowned. "Your dad's been an asshole for years, what made Stan snap?"

Ford shrugged but you knew he knew. Why wasn't he telling you? "Ask him."

"Oh, yeah, I'll just ask Stan 'why'd you finally decide to whack your dad?' Think about it for more than two seconds!"

Ford's eyes slipped over your shoulder and he nodded minutely. Stan was back in the room.

Your eyes immediately found his knuckles, they weren't bloodied but even from here you could see the slight pink hue. You turned to ask Ford something only to find he had disappeared again.

Stan made his way through the dancefloor and stopped by your side.

After Ford's confession the silence was maddening. You needed to ask why but how do you go about it? How do you just ask him? And his dad shook his hand? Was that a goodbye? Was Stan being kicked out? No, Filbrick wasn't that cruel.

"Fancy a dance?" You offered. Stan looked at you and then the crowd, unease splattered throughout his expression. "We don't have to."

"It is a dance, though." He commented. "Just- there's a lot of people."

"It's okay." You brushed him off. It wasn't a massive deal, you didn't have to dance at a dance.

"There wasn't anyone in the corridor by Mr Tymeh's. Could still hear the music." He didn't outright ask you but you'd been friends long enough to read between the lines.

"Lead the way."

The two of you left the gym and wandered past the toilets to the small 'office' Mr Tymeh ate his lunch and moaned at the less athletic students in.

Stan was right, you could hear the music from here and the corridor was empty.

"Wanna do this then?" He asked, making zero eye contact.

"Stan, we don't have to if yo-" You were unable to finish the sentence because he pulled you close, hands on your waist, and swayed.

Your hands met his shoulders and you let him move the two of you back and forth. The song wasn't meant for slow swaying but this half-dance was really sweet so you weren't going to complain.

"I like your suit." You brushed your fingers along his collar.

"Thanks, got mine and Fords for the price of one." He smirked cockily. "You, uh, you look beautiful as ever. That colour's real pretty."

You didn't give the compliment to get one, hopefully he knew that!! Yet it was sweet hearing the words. Choosing the colour was very hard, you didn't want to look good for everyone else, you wanted to feel good for yourself and when you finally decided what you were wearing you did feel good.

Your brain was getting too distracting so you softly asked, "what happened to your hand?"

Maybe tonight you'd believe Stan's words.

Believe you were pretty passable.

"Some schmuck." He shrugged. "No one important."

You pulled his hand from your hip and frowned at the knuckles. "That's not what Ford said."

Stan groaned. "That fucker."

"Are you alright?"

He looked into your eyes before nodding. "Yeah."

"Gonna tell me about it?" You raised a brow.

"He was just being an asshole." There was more to the story. There had to be. Filbrick had been an asshole for years and Stan hadn't snapped, so why now? Stan saw the confusion in your face and elaborated. "He made comments about you."

Your frown deepened. "You hit your dad for me?" You were not worth that. Why the fuck would he-

"Course I did." Stan paused. "He can say what he wants about me but not you." His eyes flickered to your opening mouth. "It was strange, he patted me on the back and shook my hand after. Proud of me for standing up I guess."

@nyx-universe @aceistheplace86

#stanford pines #stanley pines #stanley pines x reader #stanley pines x you #stan pines #stan pines x reader #stan pines x you #gravity falls #ford and stan #stan and ford #chubby!reader

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