#i fucked something up and had so many repeats on these

[itendtothinkalot]

its me or the ps5 (not literally)

summary: gamer bf beomgyu is in the midst of a lol battle with soobin but all u rly want is his attention :(((

genre: all fluff, no plot

characters: gamer bf!beomgyu x f!reader

words: not too many (i havent counted)

warnings: kinda suggestive but other than its pretty fluffy hehe

It had been hours since he last spoke to you. No, he wasn’t angry. No, he wasn’t upset with you. He was just really into his game.

You lay in bed, the soft glow of the screen casting shadows on his back as he sat at the computer, shouting curses between bursts of laughter. His words, loud and rapid, formed a jumble you could only half understand—it felt like trying to learn a new language, each phrase coming out as broken sentences.

“Something something, I’ll go mid, something something.” You managed to grasp this much.

You craved his attention. Sure, your last date was just three hours ago, but it wasn’t enough. He’d spoil you so much during the date that you’d gotten greedy. You needed him now—his attention, his hands, his words. But there he was, locked in with his favorite thing in the world: his pc.

“He missed me! Dude, he missed me!” Beomgyu yelled into the mic, laughing loudly. His fingers flew across the keyboard, the rapid clicking almost rhythmic. Out of curiosity, you peeked around the corner from your spot on the bed and watched him play. You didn’t really know how to play League, though you’d seen him at it plenty of times and had dabbled a bit when he’d offered to teach you.

Your body inched closer and closer, curiosity pulling you toward the screen. You could see his character zooming across the map, darting from one point to another. From what little you understood, he was doing really well—so well, in fact, that it made you feel even needier than you already did.

As you scooted inch by inch across the bed, you unknowingly reached the very edge. Before you realized it, your body slipped off, sending you tumbling to the floor with a soft thud. You let out a yelp, "AUGH!" The sound echoed through the room, catching your boyfriend’s attention. Beomgyu turned, eyes widening as he saw you sprawled on the floor.

"Baby, what are you doing on the floor?" His voice was laced with concern, though you could tell by the twitch of his lips that he was seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“Nothing.” You said, still on the floor.

He chuckled, standing up and making his way over to you. With a playful grin, he lifted you off the floor and gently placed you back on the bed. Leaning down, he gave you a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re an idiot,” he said, his voice overflowing with affection.

“Yours,” you agreed with a giggle.

“CHOI BEOMGYU!” A muffled voice shouted through his headphones.

“Shit. Coming!” he yelled back, giving you one last quick kiss before rushing back to his chair. As he put his headset on, he shot back, “Shut up. You’re one to talk, you fucking virgin.”

You chuckled, knowing they were probably teasing him about you.

You huffed, puffing out your cheeks in frustration. Falling wasn’t part of the plan, but at least you had his attention for a moment. Was that full minute enough to satiate your needs? No. You wanted him in bed, cuddling you and recounting his day—though you had spent the entire day together.

Your phone buzzed.

Soobin: get ur bf off the pc

You: ???

Soobin: hes annoying wtf

You: youre literally stealing him away from me u asshat

Soobin: hes literally rite beside u

You: men r so dense

Soobin: hes SAYING HES WINNING and telling all his friends that he won over me when he didnt

You: why are u so mad its just a game

Soobin: U SUCK

“Baby, is Soobin’s character dead?” you asked.

Beomgyu glanced over, lifting the left side of his headphones. The faint glow of the computer screen reflected in his eyes. “Did you say something, sweetheart?”

“Is Soobin’s character dead?” you repeated, a teasing smile on your lips.

He nodded, a focused look on his face. “Yeah, why?”

You laughed, turning back to your phone. “Nothing.”

“Is he texting you?” Beomgyu asked, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice, though you probably didn’t notice.

You nodded, rolling your eyes playfully. “He’s just being annoying.”

“What’d he say?”

You shrugged. “Nothing much. He’s just talking about the game.”

“To you?” Beomgyu’s tone was sharper, and you looked up from your phone to see him fully turned toward you now. A far cry from just two minutes ago when he had been giving you only side glances. His complete attention was on you, a mix of curiosity and something else flickering in his eyes.

This piqued your interest. Was he jealous?

“Yes, Gyu. To me.” You laughed, placing your phone on the bed.

“Gyu?” His brows furrowed slightly, and you could see the shift in his expression. You knew that hit a nerve. He was expecting terms of endearment—baby, my love, sweetheart, darling, angel, daddy—but hearing just his name, the nickname you used when you were still friends, made him twitch.

“Gyu?” he repeated, a slight edge to his voice.

“Is that not your name?” you teased, a playful smile on your lips.

“No. Not to you.” He frowned, his focus shifting entirely away from the game. You watched as he pressed a button on his PC, the lights on his headphones flickering off. He had muted his friends, the sounds of the game fading into silence.

He took off the headphones and set them on the desk, then slowly made his way to the bed, his expression darkened as he approached you.

“Hm, really now?” You grinned, knowing you were reeling him in.

“To you, it’s baby,” he pouted, crossing his arms dramatically. “Why are you calling me by my government name?”

“Gyu is not your government name.” You laughed.

“Yes, it is. Y’know who calls me Gyu? My mother. Are you my mom?”

“No I’m not, Gyu.”

“You did it again!” He gasped, eyes wide with mock horror. “Evil has gotten to you. You’ve been hanging out with Soobin too much.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Baby~” he whined, leaning closer. “Do you still love me?”

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Aren’t you the one ignoring me for a game?”

“Ignoring you? Baby…” He feigned innocence, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “I stopped my winning streak for you. Now Soobin’s gonna go berserk, posting on every social media that he won. I did this for you.” His expression was a mix of exasperation and affection.

“No. You stopped because you got jealous of your friend.”

“Soobin’s gorgeous. You can’t blame me for being jealous.”

You chuckled, “Soobin’s gorgeous? That’s your defense.”

He nodded aggressively, “Yes! He is. Didn’t you have a crush on him when we were all just becoming friends?”

Now you were confused, “Huh?”

“You had this major crush on him, didn’t you?”

“No. No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did!”

“You’re making this up! Are you sure you’re not the one with a crush on him?” You accused.

“Look, he’s gorgeous and all, but… I’m into you. Specifically. If anyone asked me what my preference was, I’d say you. I’d always say you.” Beomgyu sighed, kneeling in front of you, resting his chin between your legs as he gazed up at you with earnest eyes.

You nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across your face. “Looks like I trained you well.” You ran your fingers gently through his hair, feeling the soft strands slip between your fingers.

“Mmf, play with my hair,” he murmured, sighing in contentment.

You always told everyone who asked that your boyfriend resembled a puppy—his big, expressive eyes and playful nature made it impossible not to think so. He loved being pampered, adored the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp, and thrived any sort of affection you showered him with.

“You sure? You seem like you’re losing,” you pointed out, glancing at the game still unfolding on the screen.

“I don’t care,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand.

“Really now?” You tilted your head, curiosity evident in your expression.

“Mhm.” He nodded confidently. “I’ll let Soobin win.”

“That’s the first.” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He nuzzled his cheeks against your bare thighs, a playful pout forming on his lips. “Please,” he begged, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“Sure, Gyu.” You teased again, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Again? Really?” He lifted his head off your legs, feigning exasperation. “Do you want me to start crying?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“Repeat after me. Ba…” He shifted above you, placing his arms on both sides of your legs, propping himself up so you were face-to-face with him. His eyes locked onto yours. His arms held your back, pushing you closer towards him.

You had been dating for years, yet it was almost excruciating how he could still make you feel giddy, even after countless sleepovers. The way he looked at you, the way he kisses you, the playful banter that never seemed to bore you.

“Ba…” You followed, grinning.

“By…” He leaned closer, whispering into your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

“By.”

“Good girl.” He pecked your cheeks lightly, a playful smile spreading across his face. “Now say it all together.” His face was so desperately close to yours, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, begging to hear the words.

“Baby,” you finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling as he grabbed your chin, pulling you in for a deeper kiss. “Don’t forget that.”

“How could I?” you murmured, breathless under the warmth of his lips, your heart racing.

Lost in the heat of the moment, the two of you spent the next few minutes locked in a deep, passionate kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his hands exploring every inch of you, yet always remaining gentle. The intensity of the connection between you both grew with each second as each kiss grew desperate and needier, you couldn’t help but wish you could see him everyday.

You tapped Beomgyu’s arms as you both slowed down the kiss, exchanging gentle pecks between your playful conversation.

“Baby.” Peck.

“What do—” Peck.

“You think—” Peck.

“About—”

“Mmf, I can’t think right now.” Beomgyu continued, playfully pushing you down onto the bed as he showered you with kisses.

“Baby, this is important.”

“What could be more important than this?” he replied, giving you one final peck before falling beside you, entwining his fingers with yours.

“Well, what do you think about living together?” you asked.

“Hm?” His eyes lit up with curiosity.

“We're already always at each other’s places,” you explained, a hopeful smile playing on your lips.

“You just get smarter each day, don’t you?” he teased, propping his elbows on either side of you as he gazed down, admiration shining in his eyes. “Because I think that’s the smartest thing anyone has ever said. Even Einstein couldn’t figure this out.”

“Baby, it’s a yes or no,” you laughed, enjoying the playful banter.

“As if I’d say no to staying with the world’s most perfect person.” He scoffed in mock disbelief, a grin spreading across his face. “And imagine this: we could stay in bed all day after doing all sorts of things all night.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Gyu…” you looked at him sternly, trying to suppress a smile.

“Again with my government name!” He exclaimed dramatically.

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your affection. “I love you.”

“And I love—” He pressed his lips onto yours, silencing you with a kiss. “You.”

[fandomxo00]

Ok let's imagine this:

Logan is your boss and you're trying to seduce him

You were incredibly nervous as you looked into the bathroom mirror. You knew that Mr. Howlett had arrived and today you wore the outfit. A short black skirt and a red shirt that dipped at your breasts. When you leaned over you were exposed in so many ways. You had to careful this morning even pulling down the skirt and putting on a sweatshirt. But now you pulled your hair out of your clip, the smell of your shampoo filling your air. As you grabbed a small bottle of your perfume and sprayed it under your hair and on your collarbones. Then reapplying your lip gloss before walking out and back to your desk.

You got his schedule in order, highlighted and organized before standing up, walking towards his office before knocking on the door. Logan yelled, 'Come on in.' You pushed open the door, letting it close behind you as you came face to face with your handsome boss. You felt your heart flutter and you became nervous, your crush on him evident as you started walking forward. Logan grinned down at your converse; he thought you always looked sexy, but your clothes today just made him mad. Who were you that wearing for? You walk over to the table, leaning over to hand him the papers as you sat down in front of him. His eyes trailed from your chest to the dips of your waist, after oogling your body he felt his heart jump at the look on your face.

Your eyes were hazey, arousal in them as you looked from his eyes to his hands. You never met a man that made you wanna jump across a table to fuck him. Logan radiated power, but there also something soothing about him. Something that made your shoulders go back as confidence shot through you, his eyes glued to your glossy lips. "How are you this morning?" He broke the silence, as you tried to speak but your voice was raspy.

You blushed, clearing your throat, as your hand came to your chest. "I'm doing good."

"You got plans for lunch?"

"Do I have-." You repeated, blinking confused over at him as he grinned over at you. His eyes skimmed you again, as he raised his eyebrows.

"You look....dressed up." Logan continued as you went 'oh' as you understood he was just asking why you were dressed up.

"No, no I don't have any plans." You shook your head as his eyes darted back to yours, the light that shined into the room made his eyes look light brown.

"Would you come with me to brunch?"

"Sure, are we meeting someone?" You asked, going to open your laptop to edit the schedule.

"No, just the two of us."

"Oh, do you want me to put it on the schedule for-." You questioned, eyebrows lifting.

"1030." His voice rumbled, you could feel his stare on you as you glanced up to see him staring you down, making shivers run down your spine.

"Don't you have a meeting at 11?" You retorted, looking up to meet his eyes.

"Move it to tomorrow." Logan replied, as you hummed nodding your head, as you clicked it around and started drafting an email.

"They're gonna be pissed." You mumbled, thinking he wouldn't hear you.

"Forward them to me."

"I didn't-."

"It's alright, sweetheart." Logan assured, dipping his chin as he looked over the sheets from last night.

You wished that it was just because you were wearing a cute outfit but of course it wasn't. Logan needed to push back the meeting because he needed you to work on a project. You had your laptop open, throwing on your glasses as you started jotting down notes as he went into detail about what you needed to do. You had prepare your brain for working until late into the next morning. Your nose twitching as anger rose in your sinus's, your fingers speeding up as he continued to speak.

You were awfully quiet and dismissive as you started eating your food, but eventually you wound up listening to Logan spoke about his life as an X-Men before starting his business. He decided to open up to after seeing the frown on your face, you tried to hide your emotions, but you wore them on your sleeve. Maybe he didn't know what was wrong, but he knew that something upset you. He was able to ease the mood but not entirely, he guessed that you staying after hours was not your plans for tonight.

"Did you get dressed up for someone special?" He asked, as the two of you walked back down to his car.

"W-what no?" You flushed, pausing in your steps, his hand came your back as he led you forward.

"Really?" Logan huffed.

"I mean yeah, but-." You started, shaking your head as you looked away. "Don't think it really matters. He doesn't care." You breathed, quietly getting into the car and remaining quiet on the way back. Logan kept glancing over at you as a odd feeling filled him, you were interested in him. But not in the way he thought, yes you liked that he looked at you. You wanted more than that, you wanted to take you out, treat you nice and then bring you home. Logan hadn't done that in a long time, he hasn't wanted to.

But the thought of upsetting you got on his nerves, he didn't like that he caused you that distress. So he ordered you dinner before leaving, not saying anything as he left for the day. You didn't even look his way, focusing on the task at hand. When he left you sighed to yourself as you looked at the clock, everyone else gathering things to leave.

There was only a few of you left in the office, mostly women, so you had shedded your bra and shoes. You changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. Throwing your hair up into a bun and the number of times you rubbed and put your hand to your face, your makeup was long gone or mascara just weighing down your lashes. Crossing your legs on your chair as you brought a sweet tart rope to your mouth. Your desk was filled with color-coded sheets, preparing to organize them all on a slide for Logan. You smiled when you Panera Bread was delivered to you, a note from Logan on it, "I'm sorry about today, thank you for everything you do, take the morning off tomorrow." Then you got a look at your phone as you saw a familiar text from, "Mr.Howlett" You glanced over the text not reading it completely before turning on youtube and grabbing your soup.

After you finished eating, you went to thank your boss when you read the full text,

"I'm sorry about today, thank you for everything you do, as the note mentioned, take tomorrow morning off, will just need you in at 11 for prepping the meeting. Might have to swing by tonight, forgot some files, could you get-."

He was coming by? By the time you started to panic the elevator doors opened, and you glanced over to see your boss. But he wasn't in the same suit as before, now in shorts and tight tee-shirt. Something you assumed he would work out in or sleep in, as he walked through the office. "How's dinner?"

"Oh um it was great." You squeaked as he walked over to your desk. Your hands moving around to clean up your dinner mess and your candy wrappers.

"Don't mind me, were you able to get the files?"

"I just opened your text, I'm s-."

"No worries, already got a lot going on." Logan assured, his hand coming to your shoulder and squeezing as he glanced down your body before looking over your shoulder. "Can I see what you've going on or-."

"Oh sure!" You chirped, turning back towards the screen. Logan sighed at the smell of your perfume. "Just give me a moment."

"I'll be right back." Logan replied, turning towards his office. Your eyes trailing over the curves of his strong back and his ass. You bet that man never skipped squats. You blinked as you looked back at your screen, pulling up the presentation and getting your papers in a row. Before standing up to stretch, closing your eyes as you pulled your arm over your body. Before squatting down to pop your knees before leaning back to crack your back.

Logan just stared at how you moved, the roll of your head as your neck lightly popped, the sound of your knees popping was rather loud as his green eyes went to your ass. Logan's adam's apple bobbed as he saw you lean back, your back arching as you groaned. Before swinging forward, breathing through the head rush as you swung your arms forward and letting them hang to stretch your lower back. He hopped that you were these outfits more often, the ones that showed off the curve of your ass, the leggings so tight to your skin that it clung to rolls and flesh of your body. That's when he cleared his throat, his voice deep and raw as he spoke, "You done yet?"

"Shit!" You jumped, your hand coming over your heart. "Sorry been sittin' forever."

"Yeah." He breathed, walking over to you as he kept files under his shoulder. You remained standing, as you started showing him each section of what the presentation would be with the different colored papers. Logan watched you with fascination, a warmness coming over his heart as you spoke so passionately about details and organization. That's why he loved working with you, you were just as passionate as he was about his business. You pushed your glasses up your nose and he felt the urge to kiss you as your teeth lightly bit at your bottom lip as you spoke, before leaning over. He felt like a perv as his eyes went to the curve of your back and down to your ass.

With all the staring he felt his cock stir in his shorts, his eyes darting back over to you as looked back at him. A flush came over your face as you saw his eyes on you, watching you and apparently, he liked looking at your ass. You breathed out shakily as you made eye contact with him. You didn't move as you turned back to the screen, anxiety rattling your chest as you stuck at your ass for him. Logan groaned from behind you, his hand coming to your back as he moved forward next to you. Trying to not grab your hips and shove his hardening cock into your plump round bottom.

Logan's hand instead came to your back as you looked at the computer, his nose coming to your ear as he spoke lowly, "Be careful there, darling, you're trying to play a dangerous game."

"Yeah been trying to play it all day-." You blurted, glancing over at him, your eyes widened at what slipped out of your mouth before looking back at the computer, shutting your eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr-."

Then his hands came to your hips, pulling you over to him as stared down at you, a longing in his deep mossy eyes that made a shiver run down your spine. "That's why you were wearing that outfit today? For me?" His voice rumbled, his voice growing thicker by the second.

"Y-yeah. Just wanted you to look at me." You murmured, a shyness coming over you as his hand came to the back of your neck.

"Always looking at you, darling. Can barely take my eyes off of you, especially in these leggings." Logan hummed, his hands coming to the tops of your ass, just hovering over the curve, a questioning look in his eyes. "Your ass looks so fucking good, baby."

"Mr. Howlett." You giggled; a flush still evident on your cheeks as you gazed up at him.

"Logan." He corrected.

"If it looks so good Logan, why aren't you touching it?" You teased, your heart racing at your boldness. A smirk came over Logan's face, his dimples indenting at the sides, while his hands ran over the globes of your ass before grabbing at the fleshing part and pulling you into him.

"God, you drive me fucking wild, acting shy one second, then you act like needy little slut, that's what you are, aren't you?" Logan grumbled, as he spoke into your ear, the feeling of his hot breath, making your fingers curling into his t-shirt.

"Just for you." You said, moving your head so you looked into his eyes, your chin dipping. He grinned at the look in your face before his hand came to your cheek, pulling you in to kiss you. "All I want is you." You panted against his mouth as he groaned loudly into your mouth, backing you up against the desk before picking you up. "Ah-wait not on my papers-."

"Screw your papers." Logan gruffed, his lips coming to your neck.

"But it's for your presentation-."

"It'll be fi-."

"Logan." You whined, your hands coming to his chest to shove him off. "I've spent the last 7 hours on this, I'm not ruining it just because you want to fuck me. You can literally do that any-."

"Shut up." Logan groaned, his hand coming to your jaw and smashing his lips on your own.

"But-." You squeaked, as his tongue dove into your mouth and you let out a moan. Your hand coming to his hair to pull him in closer, his musky scent filling up your senses. The taste of him on your tongue intoxicated you and when he picked you up, you felt dizzy.

"Listening to you babygirl." Logan promised, as he started walking towards his office, pushing opening the door and kicking it shut with his foot before putting you on the nearest table. His hand brushing out to knock the magazine and vase to the floor. The crash made you yelp into his mouth before laughing. His hand came to your cheek, your hand leaning into him as you smiled. Your eyes gazed into his as you both paused for a moment, soaking in what was happening between the two of you. Logan's nose lightly brushing against yours, his lips only inches apart. "Not gonna fuck you tonight, though." He whispered, moving his face down to he spoke lowly in your ear.

"Think I deserve it, don't I?" You pressed, your hands soothing over his chest. "Especially since you're distracting me."

"From the assignment I gave you." Logan laughed, the seriousness wearing off as you smiled, your hand smoothing up his chest to his jaw. Feeling the prickly hair against his skin, the feeling of your hands soothing over it made his eyes closed, he hadn't been touched in this way in so long. Especially by a women like you, he moved forward to connect your lips in a soft kiss. "You should probably get back to it." He breathed, as his hand came to your back, rubbing circles below your right scapula.

"Oh-um yeah." You nodded, looking away from him, your hand falling away before he grasped it and brought your small hand to his chest. Your whole hand enveloped by his, as you scanned his face.

"Plan for to eat lunch in my office tomorrow." He started, his hand skimming down to your lovehandles. Logan grabbed at the flesh as his lips came over yours in an open-mouth kissed. "Then taking you out after work."

"Off the clock?"

"Is this off the clock?" Logan joked, as you scrunched your nose and pushed lightly at his chest as he chuckled. "I'm gonna take you out on a date."

That's when it clicked in his head, as he tilted his head while looking at you. You'd been upset that it was work meeting this morning, you thought he was wanting to take you out. It was true, he wanted to go out with you, alone, away from everyone else. But he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by making advances on you, he just couldn't risk it with his job. But the way you kept teasing him? The way you practically begged for him to touch you? Yeah, he was gonna give in, he thought you were beautiful and talented, the packaged deal.

"I'd like that." You grinned.

tags: @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland @mega-kittyglitter-1

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part five.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

only fluff from here on out who cheered!

summary: you and spencer spend a night together, and talk about making your relationship 'official'.

word count: 2030

a/n: this project has been such a labor of love (and obsession). this is the penultimate part, the finale will be posted on fri 9/27

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Spence POV

You had both decided that watching some movies in bed and eating your favorite takeout was the best way to end this tumultuous, heavy day. Spencer knew you were tired, and he fully anticipated you falling asleep mid-movie. It didn’t happen often, you always tried your best to stay awake or would communicate that you were ready to head to bed.

All the times you had had movie marathons together, you stayed the night. Spencer would always wake up in the morning, his arm wrapped around you and your leg over his. You both tended to gravitate towards each other in the middle of the night, no matter how far apart on the bed you were before bed. He cherished it more than he’d care to admit, and he was hoping for a repeat tonight. He put on an extra long movie knowing you would get bored and fall asleep.

While it was sneaky, he supposed he was allowed to do that now. The emotions were out and in the open, and while you both still needed to discuss what that entailed and where your relationship was going to go, or how it would change, he was selfish at heart. And with the lack of physical touch in these past few weeks, he was begging for an excuse to touch you.

“Y/N?” He nudged you softly, hoping you wouldn’t stir.

You didn’t. 

He turned the TV off, and hit the bedside lamp too. He checked to make sure your phone was plugged in before plugging in his own phone on his side of the bed. While it wasn’t technically ‘his side’ by any means, he was sure you hadn’t had anyone else in your bed. Minus maybe Angela. And it might as well be his side anyway, considering he had had his own charger plugged in on that side for months, and it hadn’t been moved. He also had a backup pair of glasses here, and half your dresser was filled with his clothes. Though mainly that was because you stole so many of his shirts. 

Once he had calmed you down from his intrusion, he had noticed you were already in one of his shirts. An old, tattered Creed shirt he had retired once he bought a new one. You stole it almost immediately. He smiled to himself, finally letting himself relax.

He knew the morning would entail a long and emotional conversation, but for now he was going to give into his selfish ways, and hold you tight to him while you slept. Hopefully you wouldn’t mind if he was still here in the morning.

He set an alarm for 10am, kissed the top of your head, featherlight, and drifted off to sleep himself.

//

Reader POV

You woke up naturally, no alarm blaring or construction starting. You took your time fully opening your eyes, the sunlight hitting your face a little too hard for your liking. You hadn’t closed the curtains last night before bed, something you’re usually pretty good about. Hmm. A noise to your left startled you slightly. That’s when you took note of your extremities. You were wrapped up in Spencer’s legs, the covers haphazardly thrown across the two of you. The noise was simply him shuffling, but you had fallen asleep so suddenly last night you hadn’t realized he had stayed.

But, the realization made you quite happy. Your heart started to pick up its pace again, and you willed it into normalcy. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it. But how could you ask your heart to act normal when you weren’t sure what normal was anymore? Everything was changing. And that was fucking scary. Change is hard, change is painful, but it’s happening. Constantly. Besides, this was good change, right? The kind you had wanted for so long now? Why harp on the fact that it’s change and not harp on the fact that you were finally going to be with your soulmate? You decided to just enjoy this moment, instead of letting it fester deep inside and drive you crazy. 

Spencer’s curls had gotten all messy in his sleep. You knew that happened, you had stayed the night with him more times than anyone else in your life. This wasn’t the first time you had woken up together, your limbs woven tighter than you thought possible, drool drying on the corner of one or both of your mouths because you both slept better when you slept next to each other. You almost always woke up first, and you were thankful for that. It gave you time to stare at Spencer openly. Sometimes you pretended to be asleep when he started waking, so you could hear him whisper sweet things to you while you ‘slept’.

You hadn’t been able to look at him like this in so long, and you took advantage of it. You pushed his brown curls out of his eyes, your touch as light as you could manage, not wanting to wake him prematurely. But Spencer lay dormant, hands under his head as he faced you. His chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm, clearly at peace. Trailing your finger along his shoulder, then torso and hips, you ran the length of his body. Then you brought your eyes back up to his face, hoping the sun was hitting him just right and giving him that beautiful morning glow. And it was, but his green eyes were shining down at you now. “Hi,” he whispered. His face was lit up, a toothy smile and glittering eyes, the sun draping over him and painting him in gorgeous gold.

His hand reached for yours, a Midas touch. A warmth unmatched blossomed in your chest, spreading and filling every atom of your existence. You felt like liquid gold, and your eyes filled with tears, unprompted. You gave in and let them spill over. Spencer pulled you close, tears spilling from his eyes as well. At least you both knew they were happy tears this time.

You lay in his arms for some time. No words, no more tears, just the sound of both of your hearts beating in tune. The moment was ruined by Spencer’s alarm. 

“Jesus, sorry, I forgot to turn that off.” Spencer rolled over, hitting the ‘stop’ button. He grabbed your hand again, “I was a little distracted.”

“Whatever by?” You cocked your head, feigning innocence.

Spencer leaned in close, and the air was ripped from your lungs. “By my partner. If you’ll have me, anyway?”

He glanced to your lips, and you had to force your lungs to start working again. “Only if you’ll have me, too.” You closed the minimal distance between your lips, doing your best to remain calm.

It was soft, chaste, and everything you had been fantasizing about for six goddamn years. It didn’t last too long, it wasn’t too hot and heavy right off the bat. It was Spencer. And it was perfect. Of course it was.

You pulled back, noting Spencer’s blown pupils. “I probably should have asked before I did that. Sorry.” 

“Consent is important but I promise I am not complaining, Peach.” He leaned in again, smiling. “You can do it again, if you want.”

How wonderful it was to be able to laugh while kissing someone. This couldn’t be considered a make-out session by any means, it was much too silly. That’s to be expected of you and Spencer, though, isn’t it?

He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you. It wasn’t always the right angle, what with the amount of laughing and smiling you were both doing, but it was still perfect to you. You let Spencer’s hands wander over you, and he kept asking if it was okay when he reached a new area. Your arms, your torso, your legs. He didn’t come too high up your thigh, and he never reached around to your ass. Ever the gentleman, Spencer Agnew was.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass, baby, really,” Spencer breathed, his lips on your neck. You shuddered at the new nickname, wanting to hear it again. “We could have been doing this for years, huh?” You could only nod in response. He pulled back, putting a minute amount of space between you. Far enough that you weren’t touching all over, but close enough that he was still very much in your bubble. You loved it. Especially because he knew exactly what you wanted, often without you needing to voice it.

“Y/N, I love you so much,” he started, “And I’m pissed we lost so much time, really, and I can’t apologize enough for making you wait.” He laced your fingers together, rubbing circles into your hand, just like you did for him yesterday. “But I also don’t want to rush this. We might have been in love with each other for years, at least I have, but this is still a new relationship, you know?” 

You started tearing up again, but only because you were enamored with Spencer’s thoughtfulness and vulnerability. “Good tears,” you laughed, reassuring him. “Thank you, for being so honest with me. I feel the same way, actually.” He kissed the back of your hand, nodding for you to continue. “This,” you gestured between the two of you, “is still us, still our friendship. But the relationship aspect is new, and we should treat it as such, right?”

Spencer nodded, enthusiastic that you were on the same page. “Exactly! I don’t want us to, like, jump right into it just because of the history we have. I want to take you on dates, and buy you flowers, and get to know you all over again. I don’t care how many times you’ve told me about your favorite movie – tell me about it again. Show me your favorite albums again, your favorite TV shows and stand-up specials. I want to discover you all over again.”

The tears were falling in droves at this point, and you were really wondering how you wound up so lucky. “Fucking hell, Spence. Are you trying to kill me?” You wiped your tears on your shirt, laughing. “You’re so fucking perfect. Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I love you, babe. Do you want to get some breakfast?”

“Or I could make us breakfast?”

“Fuck yes.”

//

After breakfast you both decided it was time to have the dreaded conversation. ‘Dreaded’ because you both would rather be lazily making out right now and watching Neon Genesis Evangelion, but instead you had to talk about ‘feelings’ and ‘labels’ and ‘hard and soft launches’. God, dating nowadays was so stupid. Especially when you’re dating your best friend of eight years and you’re both entirely unsure where your limits were because for years there were none. None that were spoken anyway.

Spencer wanted to go public immediately, because, according to him “anyone who doesn’t want to show you off is fucking insane”, but you thought it might be better to wait a little while. You don’t have to pull the long con like Court and Shayne, but just having the office and your friends knowing would be good enough until you both settled into this.

“Then we could maybe be annoying and drop little hints on IG or in videos, see who all catches on,” You offered, knowing his mischievous side would absolutely love that.

“So many fans already ship us anyway, it might be fun to drive them a little crazy with it.” Spencer laughed, bright and full of love, and you just could not believe you finally had Spencer to yourself.

Realistically, you had for a few years now, but now it’s real.

The conversation wasn’t as long as you had expected, luckily you were both on the same page about nearly everything. Soulmatism is just like that, you supposed. After about thirty-or-so minutes, you both had worked it all out and decided another lazy day in bed was in order.

You could get used to how easy it was to love Spencer, and how he made you feel even easier to love.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn @lisiliely

[thebutterfly-effects]

Its Snowing Like Its The End Of The World ⋆｡°✩

hypothesis: after everything, he comes back to see you do that to him? he’s been selfish all his life, and theres a reason for the action he made on your big day.

warnings: none really, self inflicted angst? unaliving, sad, english is not my second language sorry if this sucks, Satoru justifies his actions, the best-friends fall out but they love each other trope, this is mostly Satoru’s pov.

bye im never gonna write again after this

Have you ever heard of the Japanese phrase “Yamato Nadeshiko”? Its a phrase used to describe the ideal Japanese woman.

Quiet, Meek, Timid, Calm, Nurturing, Bears a lot of children, Knows her place, Always respects her husband.

Some people argue that this type of girl has been going extinct in our day and age, it’s hard to find it. According to men, women are either super lenient, or a tough feminist that would brutally murder a man. And always choose the bear, perhaps.

Satoru Gojo hated that term. He thought what if he had his own type of ‘Yamato Nadeshiko’?

what if he didn’t want the one to be a timid girl that would submit to his every word? what if he wanted a little challenge? a headache? a thrill? something he would never expect?

There weren’t many options in Jujutsu Tech. Ugh. There was Shoko, but she’s a really good friend, and if he’s being honest, shes facing some major lesbian allegations in the school. Yikes. With who though?!?!?!

Obviously theres many other girls in the school, but none were worth Satoru’s time.

Then there was the Kyoto girls. Utahime, which was a mother fucking no. Mei Mei? she’s probably gonna be after his money, and they’d look related anyway; white hair n shit.

That scratches off all of the girls in Satoru’s list, mind list at least— he wants some love, real genuine love, lets be honest, hes fucking deprived. a virgin? maybe? maybe not? but deprived? absolutely.

..

Unless we mention one last girl. You. Satoru’s ultimate best friend, attached to the hip, a package deal. The type of friends where if one was absent the sensei would ask where the other was.

mhm, it was like that.

Suguru was obviously still his best friend too. But you? you were somethin’ else.

✧༺ ♡ ༻∞

“you ever think if meteors were actually made of cheese like in tom n jerry?” Satoru asks with a mouthful of nerd clusters in his mouth, it was his fifth pack but he burned through the calories like fire on paper.

You look at him. You’re so fed up with his dumb questions, for a guy that has to do fucking calculus in his head every time he uses his techniques, he sure was fucking dumb.

“they’re made of rocks.” you say flatly, continuing to crochet a little penguin for Shoko, she said she wanted an audience of crocheted animals to watch her as she dissects his friends. Yikes.

Satoru pouts, licking the sweetness off his lips as he stares at you, his glasses tipping down his nose. “what do you take me for? of course i knew that.” he scoffed.

“did you though?”

“did.”

“did not.”

“did.”

“did not.”

“did.”

“ugh, did n-“

he silences you by an ambush of kisses to your cheek, and a couple of head pats. “did!” he grinned, holding your face with one hand, both your poor cheeks were squished together. You wondered if this is what puffer fish feel like when humans poke them when they’re look all round n shit.

“real smooth, Sato.” you roll you eyes, looking off into the distance, your eyes catching a glimpse of a snowflake?

Its already snowing? what the hell?

“whatchu lookin at, hm?” he murmurs, taking his glasses off because as he always says, you were the only thing that didn’t overwhelm his eyes. “lemme see-“

“snowflake.” you mumbled.

“it’s august though..? is this effects of el niño or el niña?” he says, throwing a peach ring into his mouth.

You stare at him, like he just grew horns and a tail. “um.. no, that has to do with water temperature changing from japan’s oceans and south america’s.” you say.

“global warming?”

“Satoru.”

“what?”

“repeat that for me, please?”

“global warming.”

..

“oh, warming. hehe.. sorry.” He says, rubbing his neck before crinkling the plastic bag of the gummies in his hand.

“you know my mom always told me that when snow comes in the summer to tropical countries, it means the end of the world is near.” You say, stealing a peach ring from his mouth.

Its his turn to look at you like you grew two heads.

“that’s probably the dumbest shit i’ve ever heard, but ill slide it cuz i love you.” he says.

“tch, can’t speak your mind these days.” you mutter, and he smiles and lays his head on your lap, staring at the small snowflakes falling, and the shooting stars in the sky.

The silence was nice, never awkward between you two. You were as close as conjoined twins, yes i said it, forgive me. Maybe you were a little delusional and thought there was something more to it? you don’t know. You don’t want to know, its treading on thin ice.

Satoru was likely the only person you feel comfortable here with in the school, you left your clan— which was so far away, you left your home far away to pursue jujutsu. Your friends were cool, Shoko was very friendly, and you felt like you had a stable girlfriend here, Suguru was always friendly but its like conversations with him were so forced and short.

Satoru was always the one to like talking, eating, doing whatever came to his mind— you liked his sense of carelessness, someway it balanced out how grounded and reserved you were, gave you a breath of fresh air.

for him?

you grounded him, more than Suguru ever could, he felt like there was always this wall for him to lean on if he felt like he couldn’t stand anymore. All this bullshit of him having to keep calm and be the strongest was teetering him on the edge of losing it all. Alas, you were there, you are there.

hopefully this stays this way forever, right?

..right?

✧༺ ♡ ༻∞

where did any of this go wrong.

how did it go wrong?

he swears he never meant for the fallout to happen, shit just.. happens sometimes, a measly fight that made your ‘friendship’ fizzle. Disappear. Catch on flames the way Sodium did when it touched water. Not to mention, he was dealing with losing Suguru at the time, it was a lot for him to process..? One moment Suguru was fine.. then, he just flipped a switch.

Or maybe Satoru didn’t notice it.

Which makes it either; Suguru was a good liar, or Satoru was a shit friend.

He doesn’t want to think that he was a shit friend, and he doesn’t want to think Suguru had lied to him as well.

God this was all so frustrating.

His haori suddenly felt suffocating.

For an article of clothing that was meant to be very loose and baggy, Satoru felt strangled right now.

Blue eyes, raw and misty as he watched you stand with some snobby guy who was heir of his clan, you in your white shiromuku, looking so sweet and angelic.

He had been sealed for a while, only to come out and hear that you were getting married? where have you been all these years while plaguing his mind, why didn’t you tell him?

he supposes he knows why, but it still stings.

stings to see you wear your shiromuku next to a man that was supposed to be him.

his fist clenched, then unclenched. This wasn’t fair, did you forget everything that happened before you fell out? small kisses? little ways of saying i love you indirectly? was he not obvious with his love for you? moreover, were you lying? because theres no way on God’s green earth you were able to just move on so fast when he never did.

The sight in his eyes just fills him with rage, sadness, FOMO of something that was supposed to be his.

he lifts his fingers, aiming for your groom.

all sense of logic goes away as he murmurs the two words and a blast of purple rushes past everyone, people that were probably not important, not to him at least, and they get caught up in the crossfire before it finally lands on him.

and no longer was he your groom.

you don’t even get to see what happens as you fall down and hit your head on the concrete.

maybe you feel a hand touching you, you assume its your groom— you assume its someone— but the instinct in your gut tells you its someone else— and judging by that purple light—-

Satoru sighs, trying to wipe the stains of your no longer future husband’s blood off your shiromuku, even his blood stained you, it irked him.

“what were you up to, hm?” he whispered, though he knew you weren’t listening. His knuckles lingered on your cheek.

“couldn’t just sit and watch, my girl. Im sorry.” he whispered, genuine remorse in his voice— not for killing the guy, but because you got hurt in the process of his rash decision.

While he should be out there, fighting that monstrosity called Sukuna, he was here. Hes sorry, he really is, but he’s been selfless all his life— can’t he be selfish this one time? Or would it be the end of the world?

how ironic.

it is the end of the world. Sukuna’s out there ending lives like he was stepping on cockroaches; and the strongest sorcerer was here, hands stained with the blood of the man trying to marry his girl.

He knows he shouldn’t say shit like this, you guys haven’t talked in years— you moved to Kyoto just to not feel the pain of the fall out between you two.

But alas, you both loved each other. He hopes you still do— because you were here trying to get married while he was sealed away for a while.

maybe you didn’t know he was sealed.

maybe.

He feels something cold on his nose, and he touches it.

a snowflake, reminds him of that time you guys saw a meteor— then traces of snow though it was mid august. Maybe this was the universe’s sign that he did the right thing, to make things right, to take back what he desperately wanted.

He smiled a little to himself as he saw another snowflake land on your cheek, so he cradled you, gathering you in his arms as he walked away from the scene.

he sees the snow rapidly increasing and smiles.

“remember that time you told me about what your mama said?” he murmurs, holding you close, hoping you’re listening somewhere in there. “snow in summer means the end of the world.” he says, looking up at the sky.

Sukuna.

almost losing you.

half his friends dying.

his students in danger.

japan in danger.

“i guess its snowing like its the end of the world.” he murmurs, hoping you’d wake up and let him lean on you when he needed you most. which is now.

wake up.

“please.”

[aladaylessecondblog]

Red Mountain Waffle House, pt. 14

Author's Note: Angst & misunderstandings

-----------------------------------

Somehow or the other she had been drawn to the Shrine of Azura. Before falling in with that group of former slaves in Zebabi, Sadara had looked into where the shrine was, and figuring Azura would have some answers, headed over that way.

The priests sold her some glow dust, and she made the offering as the sun was going down.

"Azura," she said, "I don't ask for you to do me any favors - I just want answers. With the prophecies, and all that - was I the Nerevarine? I mean clearly I'm not fulfilling them, so did I have ANY purpose here? What was it?"

There was a pause, a slight breeze, and then a voice in her mind.

"You have served the purpose I set out for you."

"What purpose?"

"You ensured Nerevar's bones were brought to Dagoth Ur." A pause. "There have been many Nerevarines, and you were meant to be the last. So many have failed, and you remain...the cycle repeated, in my vain hope one of you would follow the prophecies. But there have been too many failures - and so I have chosen a different path."

"What path?" Sadara felt her stomach drop. You have served your purpose.

"Nerevar will surely follow my will and destroy the Tribunal; he was ever faithful in life, and I see no reason that his loyalty should fail now. I am glad of your assistance, but your part in this is done."

She turned away without saying anything more.

Fuck Azura. Fuck everyone...except maybe Jiub.

Nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change.

----------------------

Traveling about and killing cliffracers was okay for a week or so, but on using her name in Molag Mar, she'd drawn some attention. The healer had looked up, and gone, "Sadara? What're you doing here?"

"Working," she said, "Cliffracer plumes sell for a decent amount."

"You're working? Why?"

"For a living? Why does anyone work?" she shrugged.

"There are some people looking for you--"

The moment her wounds were closed she left, and bought a cloak to cover herself a bit better on the way out. Why would they be looking for her? They had the bones, the moon-and-star, the heirloom ring of Dagoth Ur's. What more could they want her for? Gilvoth had made pretty clear she wasn't wanted there. But then something else occurred to her--the Tribunal temple would probably want to see her gone still, despite her showing no inclination to fulfill the prophecies. She'd handed over Nerevar's bones, they might have linked her to the one who'd stolen the bones in the first place...b&e, theft, some sort of heresy charge, that'd put her away for a while. And that was if the ordinators didn't outright kill her.

Whatever goodwill she'd built with Vivec when she'd done that favor of getting the tattoo was surely burned away now...and Almalexia, she was another thing entirely.

She left Molag Mar, and thereon stopped using her name.

When she cleared the slavers' cave of Zebabi and freed the khajiit and argonians, they had asked her name. She'd thought for a moment, and said, "Nammu."

Finding out about Fyr's offer to pay for blood had come as a result of one of the argonians, Chalureel, who'd said the slavers had dragged him up to Fyr to give his blood. He was some rare type or the other, and seemed overwhelmed with the idea that the sum paid to the slavers would go to him now.

Sadara agreed to stay with them until they all figured out what they'd do with their newfound freedom. The presence of a Dunmer could handwave some things away, avoid some types of trouble...

The morning after she cleared the cave she asked Chalureel to go up to Tel Fyr with her.

"It's a city unto itself," he said, after giving a description of the route they'd need to take, "There's a lot of things there we could get ahold of, especially if your blood's a type they want."

Fyr was a reclusive sort, but those that worked for him obviously needed places to stay, and a tiny medical school of excellent reputation had popped up, and then there were all the services THEY needed--

The point being, there would be plenty of places to hawk what they didn't need of the slavers' things, and to buy what supplies they needed. She'd sold enough bandits' gear after coming to Morrowind to have a reasonably good discerning eye on the most common stuff. Daggers, leather armor, spell scrolls.

"Alright, so do we have enough water here? Not the salt kind," Sadara said, "How many bedrolls do we need to buy? You all deserve to sleep on more than just the ground like you've been doing."

A list was put together of the things they'd need, and while she and Chalureel were going to Tel Fyr, the rest would head to the shore to do some fishing and foraging.

"It rains fairly frequently here," Chalureel said, "So a rain barrel might be a good idea. The water in the cave...is not exactly clean, because of those slaughterfish the--slavers were keeping. We could boil it, but..."

"We can buy some bottled water at Tel Fyr and get a rain barrel, or something like it, and boil the water here if it's absolutely necessary. There's some cooking supplies here, so we've got a pot for it...we've got the list, so let's head out."

The blood donation didn't take all that long. It was mainly filling out the forms and negotiating for things other than money that took extra time.

In exchange for a reduced payment she managed to wrangle out getting a couple potions and to be taught Restore Health with the first donation of her own blood. Fireball she figured would be next - that would make the campfires a bit easier to start up. Then a frost spell, so they could have form up a crude refrigerator somewhere in the cave.

They were kept another hour and give some orange juice, and healed up just to be safe. Then they went shopping.

The rain barrel angle didn't pan out, but they got several jugs and bottles of water, as well as some dried fish, a couple kwama eggs, saltrice, and some shein. A box of rations from a surplus store. It felt like a wealth of food, what was in that box...

But the real treat came when she spent what she'd put aside for herself. It wasn't much, only twenty gold, but she got a new robe, the first bit of clothing she'd bought in ages that wasn't from a secondhand store.

And a green candle. There had been red ones. Smelling them had given a scent of cinnamon and memory of Jolene--Dagoth Ur, her mind corrected her. That look in the picture that had buoyed her for a little while, made her feel adored, what might have been the first stirrings of love, but which now--

Surely you understand it has always been Lord Nerevar that he wants?

The words reminding her that she was to stay in her place, that she was not to reach for anything better.

She put the red candle back and hurried along with Chalureel, whose own treat seemed to be four bags of cheese puffs. The remainder that they weren't saving went to a couple bottles of soda and some off-brand chocolate the others liked.

At last they headed back, and she thought that evening, on looking at what had been the slave pen and was now her room, that all things considered this was better than she'd had in a while, even if there wasn't any plumbing here.

It was a roof over her head, food in her stomach, and a safe place to sleep. That was all it used to take to keep her happy, and it would have to be enough now.

If she just kept believing it, maybe it would be true.

------------------------------------

When Jiub saw the golden-skinned mer approaching the Waffle House a week after the last sleeper, at first he wondered why an Altmer that clean was coming out here.

Then the door opened, and the new waiter dropped to his knees. "Saint Nerevar!"

"Rise," the mer, Nerevar apparently, replied, "I have--to speak to your cook."

"Of course, of course." The waiter moved in close and said, "Be on your best behavior."

"Right." Jiub shrugged, and the waiter headed off to clean the bathroom, or smoke, or something - he didn't really pay attention. Once the man was out of earshot he looked to Nerevar.

"Is Sadara not here? The Sleepers keep saying she doesn't work here any longer."

Jiub scoffed. "And their word wasn't good enough for you?"

"Where is she?"

"She doesn't live with me anymore, if that's what you mean. Do you want coffee? Eggs?"

"Where--where did she go?" Nerevar's voice was more insistent now.

"As if I'm going to tell you."

"Look--" Nerevar's tone went stern, in what Jiub supposed was his military-leader voice. "--you need to tell me where she is."

"Why should I do that?" Jiub turned, and kept one hand in his right front pocket, where he'd moved his box cutter to. "Huh? The volcano man not quite what you expected?"

"There has been a misunderstanding--"

"Misunderstanding!" Jiub laughed harshly. "Oh yes, Sadara didn't even come home afterwards, I'd say it was more than just a fucking--get out. Now."

"Who do you think you are?"

"The man who knows where she is. So I suggest you keep your hands to yourself. I fucked up your wife, I can fuck you up too."

"She's not my wife anymore, I don't--this isn't about her. I want to know where Sadara is, so I can bring her back to Red Mountain."

"What, to be mocked some more? Do you need a punching bag so you don't get bored?"

Nerevar glared in a way Jiub assumed was meant to intimidate him. It didn't work.

"That was never what was intended."

"Really, what was intended? Because whatever was said was bad enough she didn't even repeat it to me, and she tells me everything. Just said it was nothing we hadn't heard before." Jiub crossed his arms. "Why should I tell you fucking anything when you're the reason she's like this?"

"The person she talked to--did not--" Nerevar groaned, and buried his face in his hands before looking back up. "How do I convince you I don't mean her harm? I only want her to take the place that's rightfully hers now. I thought--we hadn't seen her, so we assumed she must not have been interested in being Lady Dagoth. Then one of the Sleepers let us know she DID show up, and we simply hadn't been told about it."

"Yeah, she delivered your bones," Jiub replied, "You'd think you'd be more grateful."

"I didn't KNOW! One of Voryn's brothers turned her away and--look, I just want to correct the situation. I want to make things right. Then you won't see me again."

"It's her seeing you I'm worried about. Why should I trust you, eh? Give me one good reason not to hurl your ass out like Jazz." Jiub thought for a few moments, then cracked his knuckles. "Tell you what...if you kick my ass well enough, I'll tell you where she is."

A pause.

"Are you game for it? Or are you a big golden chicken?"

-------------------------

The kagouti hunt was not going very well.

They had enough to eat, but Sadara had headed out into the blight storm since she was immune to the blight, saying it'd probably be a good idea to get some fresh meat anyway. The slaughterfish in Zebabi's water (Gish, oddly enough, seemed to think of them as children) were happy enough with scraps, but...leftovers surely weren't healthy for them

In reality she preferred not to while away her time in Zebabi. Even with the others around it was too quiet, and if things were too quiet she'd start thinking.

And if she started thinking, she'd just end up making herself miserable. No. Better to get outside and actually DO something, until she was tired enough she'd go right to sleep when she got back.

But the blight winds were thicker than usual--or at least, thicker than she was used to--and she found herself stumbling along the paths, groping along the rocky mountainside to keep a sense of which direction she was going in. She was almost afraid to pull out her phone. Suppose it blew away, in all this wind?

Sadara took another step, leaned harder when a gust of red ashy wind blew right in her face--and fell into darkness.

"FUCK!" she screamed, and thanked any gods who might be listening that she'd had the Fyr people teach her the Light spell last time she was up there.

It looked like she'd fallen into some kind of hallway...a long corridor, there were visible doors along it. She'd think it was a dwemer ruin if it wasn't for the tombish look about it, and the lack of brass accents.

She set her quiver down to mark the spot, and then headed down the hallway. The doors opened, and she saw ash pits, with offerings covered in dust. Clearly, no one had been here in ages and ages.

A ghost or two rose...but gave her only a look before meandering about the room.

Probably a really old Hlaalu tomb.

She'd been to one or two tombs and left small offerings, but had never actually seen the ghosts wandering around like people had reported. Here, though...they seemed to be everywhere here. Some of the older looking ones ignored her, while a young one or two followed her for a while. Most vanished when she looked at them directly.

Then she came to a larger room--and the ash pit here was much, much larger than any of the others she'd seen.

As with some of the others, a ghost rose from the ashes.

This one, rather than looking at her and then quickly away, fixed her with a keen gaze that didn't once break away.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Sadara," she said, "I'm sorry, I fell into the tomb from the outside. I don't mean any disrespect. ...though I assume you must all know that already, since no one's attacked me."

"You must have married into the house," the ghostly woman said. "There is no other explanation."

"This isn't a house Hlaalu tomb?"

A snort.

"Oblivion, no. This is a House Dagoth tomb."

Sadara immediately started to back out of the room. "Well, I guess...I guess I'm technically one of you, but the marriage...isn't going to last."

"Isn't going to last? When the one you married has been rude enough not to bring you here to introduce you to the family..."

"It wasn't the one I married, but one of his--brothers that told me." Sadara shrugged. "I married him drunk, his brother said it was a mistake, and with Nerevar there again--look, I'll get out of your hair."

"No, no, stay. Stay, tell me what happened. The man you married, was it one of Voryn's brothers?"

"It was Voryn himself, and one of his brothers to--why am I telling you? It's probably getting annulled soon, I won't be part of the House for much longer."

"You shouldn't let yourself be shoved out so easily. Any Lady Dagoth should be strong enough to form herself a place. Voryn's brothers have ever been overprotective of the family honor and nobility--they tried to push off Nerevar, and now they are trying to push off you. With the same tricks, I imagine. But just like Nerevar, you--"

Sadara turned and bolted out the door, back down the hallway, ignoring every attempt by the ghosts she passed to call her back.

Just like Nerevar.

Just like Nerevar.

All she wanted was to escape that name, to escape his shadow, but every attempt seemed to deepen the trap she was in.

How long do I have to live in his shadow?

-----------------------------

The blight storm hadn't let up in the least by the time she returned to the cave--and with her arm raised to protect her eyes she didn't nothing the ordinator standing just inside the cave. He stood straight and pointed his spear at her when she approached.

"Who are you?"

"S--Nammu, I live here!" Sadara corrected herself, "Don't tell me it's been seized!"

"Not seized. ...temporarily commandeered," the ordinator said, "Go inside...but there are more of us in there, and if you step out of line you'll be dealt with."

Great, she thought, just great. As if I needed more problems right now.

She went on inside, noting there weren't that many extra ordinators inside, or rather, not as many as she expected. Nuralg was the first to see her, and shook her head on being told the hunt hadn't gone well.

"This one could have told you it was a bad idea to hunt in blight winds. The only thing one can catch out there right now is a blight disease. Dinner will be ready in a bit...but there is someone occupying your room. You'll have to have a chat with her."

The her in question was entirely a surprise. No sooner did she open the little door (which was flanked by two more ordinators) than she laid eyes on--

"Queen Barenziah?"

"Sadara!"

Both were equally surprised to see one another. Sadara walked forward, trying to think of how to not explain the situation to her.

"What are you doing out here?" was the queen's first question.

"The job didn't pan out. What're you--this doesn't seem the kind of place you'd frequent." Sadara gave a faint smile.

"I was making a trip to Tel Fyr for an injection...I've got something called rheumatoid arthritis, and I would far rather have the doctors do it than trust the job to a maid or to my shaking hands. The blight storm grew stronger while we were trying to sail by, and...well, we took shelter here, not knowing anyone had already made it a home."

"It's not too bad here, provided you fluff your pillow up well enough. And have a good bedroll. Maybe it's a bit too quiet, that's my only complaint."

"Besides not having running water?" Barenziah laughed slightly. "It reminds me of the old days, but...I prefer not to go back unless necessary."

There was a pause, and for that silence Sadara thought that no more would be said.

But of course, she would later think, she could not be so lucky.

"Hunting cliffracers?" she asked, "I expected you could find another job waiting tables up in the north, with your experience."

"I wanted to get away from the region," Sadara replied quietly. She shrugged a moment later. "Lot of drama went on...Almalexia turned up, and there was...a time I got very drunk, and...it's all behind me now."

Barenziah fixed her with a Look.

"What?" she asked, "I think I actually prefer living here over that shithole I was living in. It's by the ocean, it rains more often, and..."

No response.

"I do pay attention to the online discourses, you know," the queen mother started again, "And I can put two and two together."

"I don't want to talk about it," Sadara replied quickly. "Please, let's just talk about something else."

Literally anything else. She simply wanted to keep her mind off the Situation. Eventually that ache would peter out and everything would be as it was before. Everything went down the drain anyway, eventually this would too.

"Answer a few questions, and then I will speak no more of it. I already know about this infamous marriage of yours, and I simply want to know--"

"Do I have a choice?" Sadara slumped slightly.

A few questions and then this'd be over. Barenziah would leave, and she'd get on making the best of this place.

"Did you get thrown out?"

"Not out of my apartment, no, I just didn't go back. There wasn't much to go back for."

"And Dagoth Ur?"

"I haven't seen him since the night the wedding happened. When I visited the--that palace he lives in, all I saw was his brother. If I hadn't left he'd have put me out."

"You poor thing," Barenziah's tone was sympathetic, "This is what I was trying to warn you about. These men will use you and cast you aside the moment you are no longer useful to them."

"I...I brought him Nerevar's bones. Thought we'd have to talk anyway. But...I guess he didn't want to talk..."

You have served the purpose I set out for you.

She gulped slightly. "Anyway...I suppose you'll be staying overnight. We can feed the lot of you, but it'll be a bit tight...not what you're used to, I'm sure."

"We've got some stores of our own to add, if you're inclined to make a stew. Or if you're not, I like my entourage to be well prepared." There was a pause. "I apologize for pressing, but...if you'd like the marriage annulled, I'm sure--"

"No, let him live with the stain." The venom in her tone surprised even Sadara, and she shook her head. "The only revenge I can have right now is that my name is still linked with House Dagoth. He has Nerevar now, and he'll want to marry him soon, which'll mean he'll want my signature on the divorce papers."

She'd seen how easy it could be to get a divorce in Morrowind. Thirty days apart--and they were fast closing in on that number--no matter how short a time it had been since the wedding--with papers signed, and that would be that.

It could be as if it had never been.

"Maybe I can get a bribe out of it. They want to call me a gold-digger, maybe I should just quit trying, and...and give them what they're--"

She took in a sharp breath.

Barenziah's open arms was all it took.

Sadara sank into them, sobbing, and wasn't aware of very much else for a long while afterward.

Just this time. I will let myself be sad just this time. But no one else will get to see it. No one else.

[fandomunsexyman]

SVSSS is a novel with a fandom.

[ID: A Scum Villain edit of the "missing the point" meme. A bullet arcs from velinxi art of child Shen Jiu kneeling while furiously glaring. The bullet says, "People are not entirely one thing or the other and holding them to these extremes ignores the complexities that come with their humanity." It arcs over the head of a person across from it, who ignores the bullet and exclaims: "Wow!! Shen Jiu's only crime was being mean and was wrongly hated!" End ID]

[lilacevans]

it’s amazing how men can just ruin everything

[universalthaumaturge]

ok i get why anthy has creature of delirium now

[stxrmnight]

Brick and Mortar ohhhhhh

[munch-mumbles]

beginning to mald profusely at just how bad my auditory processing is

[officialambassadorfrisk]

the amount of trauma in this poor kid, that their whole adoptive family each murdered them several times over and yet are still so much nicer than the surface parents they fled.

YEAH NO EXACTLY THESE KIDDOS ARE SO FUCKED UP

[joelsgoldrush]

“NEVER IS A PROMISE” | 12.4k

old man!logan x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ mentions of drinking, angst, some fluff, old man!logan x caregiver!reader, implied age gap (reader’s in her twenties), miscommunication, slow burn, pining, reader is shorter than logan and has long hair, charles in his cupid era, petnames, minor injuries, wound tending, mentions of blood, virgin!reader, dirty talk, cum shot, fingering, handjobs, oral sex (m receiving), loving sex, sex with a lot of feelings (is that a tag?), unprotected p in v

A/N: i just want to fall in love with him. that’s it. that’s the reason why i wrote this long ass fic 😭 while doing so, i had “never is a promise” by fiona apple and “cool about it” by boygenius on repeat. give them a try if you haven’t listened to them (your lives will be CHANGED) (also, thank you for reading <3)

No matter how often you play chess with Charles, you never manage to beat him. 

“You’ve been staring at that knight for five minutes. It’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chuckling at his sarcasm, you fold your hands in your lap, lifting your eyebrows in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. You’re the master of chess,” leaning back in the chair, you cross one leg over the other. “Can we play something else?”

“I’m quite entertained, thank you,” Charles says, sliding the board closer to you across the table. “Your turn.”

“How is it that you don’t get tired of this game?” you mutter under your breath, eyes fixed on the board as you weigh your options, hovering your hand indecisively over the chess pieces. 

“Please do something before I’m forced to make a dash for the toilet,” he hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign of one of his irritable days.

His words spur you into action, encouraging you to finally slide the knight into position. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “You go now.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate, and he moves a bishop. “Check.”

Fuck. You hadn’t seen that coming. “I’d prefer to walk away with my pride,” you joke, pushing your chair back and pretending to lose interest in the board.

That makes him smirk, a barely there grin dangling on the corners of his wrinkled lips. The truth is, you wouldn’t stop playing for anything in the world—not even if this old man kicks your ass every single time he suggests playing chess. “You’re not out of the game yet.”

Quietness settles over the tank while you allow yourself some time to come up with a new strategy. After a moment, you decide to go for a pawn, using it to block his bishop.

He doesn’t stop grinning, studying your move with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Not bad, but you’ve left your king exposed.”

You gape at the board, your fragile confidence faltering for a split second. "I still have some pieces in play."

Charles nods, his brows drawing together in thoughtful consideration. "True. But sometimes, it’s not about how many pieces you have left—” he reaches out, carefully sliding his queen across the board. "It’s about where you place them,” he relaxes, hunching over, his eyes searching for yours. A smile that’s all teeth welcomes you. “Checkmate."

“Damn,” you blow out your cheeks, your gaze tracing the path of his queen. Somehow, he’s trapped your king with no easy way out.

He leans back with a satisfied grin. "That’s three games in a row. My suggestion is that you start rethinking your strategy."

"Or maybe you’re just a better player,” you admit, a mix of frustration and admiration palpable in your tone. “No more chess for today, though,” you stand up from your seat, gathering the board and chess pieces. As usual, they find their place under Charles’ bed, and you turn back to him, beaming with delight. “I think you owe me one after all this.”

“You’re a terrible loser, my dear,” he ponders, his eyes twinkling as they take you in. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

At that exact moment, you hear the familiar creak of the tank’s door opening, followed by a cough you immediately recognize. Without thinking, you straighten your back as Logan steps into the room. Charles notices, but says nothing in return.

It was an infatuation—or at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself of. Logan is a very good-looking man, probably the most handsome you’ve ever laid eyes on. The fact that you live with him doesn’t help at all. You think that if you only saw him occasionally, this—this anxiety that grips you whenever he’s around or when you hear his voice—wouldn’t happen in the first place.

Whether it’s good or bad luck, you’ve been sleeping under the same roof as him for over a year, and the crush you’ve had since the first time you exchanged words with him only seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

What you figure out over time is that men like Logan aren’t the dating type. He’s never brought anyone home, and for that, you’re secretly grateful. The last thing you need is to see him with another woman—thank you very much. Still, the thought gnaws at you: he could easily be meeting someone elsewhere. In fact, it’s more than likely that he’s hooking up with other people. It doesn’t have to be at—

Alright. You don’t need this either.

Logan’s heavy footsteps resonate even louder, his presence more imposing, and he seems especially pissed off. Then again, he always has that demeanor—angry, grumpy, locked in a constant battle with life. But today… today, you haven’t seen him this troubled in weeks.

“Look who’s joined us,” Charles mumbles, steering his motorized chair to meet him halfway. The chair bumps against Logan’s legs with a thud that sounds almost cartoonish, and Charles scrunches up his nose, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “You smell like shit.”

“Yeah, I missed you too, Pop,” Logan grunts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his suit, searching for something. That’s when you notice the bloodstains on his shirt, smeared across his chest, and the missing buttons at the top. Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite your tongue to keep from asking any foolish questions. “They gave me new ones,” he mutters, looking you in the eye as he tosses the pill bottle at you.

You leap forward to catch it mid-air, your heart skipping a beat. Logan holds your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before giving a slight nod and turning on his heel to storm out of the tank.

When your attention goes back to Charles, you see how his eyes remain locked on the pills you’re holding, his head lowering in defeat. “He’s waiting for me to die.”

“Don’t say that,” you squat to be at his eye level, momentarily hiding the meds from his view. Still, you struggle to make him shift his gaze. “He’s taking care of you, which is something completely different,” you place your hand on top of his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You’ve had this same conversation innumerable times, yet each time feels like the first. He offers you a melancholic but knowing look as you softly say: “You have to take them, Charles. I’m sorry.”

He raises a hand, his trembling fingers curling around your wrist, examining you, trying to find an answer in the lines. “Don’t be. At least you’re here.”

“I’m sure Logan’s tired; that’s why he doesn’t stay any longer. Haven’t you seen him?” you rise to your feet, moving behind him to guide his chair. The tank sort of has a chill in the air, metallic walls that seem to press in around you both. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to play chess with him. Rest assured I’ll always let you win,” you murmur next to his ear, succeeding in eliciting a chuckle from him.

After that, you help him with his daily routine. Charles isn’t heavy, and you manage to get him onto the bed, his frail body yielding to your gentle support. You slip the rest of his body beneath the blankets, tucking him in carefully before handing him two pills and a glass of water. “All the way down, okay? And I wanna see that tongue after you swallow them.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under, covered in dust and dirt. Charles sticks his tongue out, putting the glass down on his nightstand. “Happy?”

“You’ve got no idea how much,” you say, adjusting the covers. The silence of the tank surrounds you both, and you can sense his gaze lingering on you. You flick your eyes up, furrowing your brows as you sit in the small space beside him on the mattress. “What is it?”

“You fancy him, don’t you?”

Freezing on the spot, your eyes narrow. “I—I don’t—” you trail off, pushing the words out with some effort. “Are you trying to read my mind?”

His whole chest rumbles with laughter under your touch. He finds your hand once again, intertwining your fingers with his. “Don’t be so naïve. I don’t need my abilities to see the way you get all flustered when he passes by. Why do you think they say older people are wiser?” he inquires, his lips forming a straight line. “We’ve lived too much not to notice the most common things, my dear—and let me tell you that you do a horrible job at pretending.”

“Of course I like him. Logan’s a good man, he keeps us safe,” you glance down at your hands—his, weak and delicate, in evident contrast to your own. “I’m not in love with him, Cupid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him years ago,” Charles says, his eyes glazing over as he drifts back into the past. His body remains here, within the confines of the room, but his mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away. You give his hand a gentle tug, trying to bring him back. “When we took him in, he was pursuing a career as a cage fighter. I had never seen anyone like him in all my years of educating mutants. He was so… different from the rest. Reserved, didn’t talk much at first. But I gave him a family, I—” his voice falters, overcome by his own emotions. 

That’s when you realize he’s no longer with you, his gaze unfocused, looking around the tank as if seeing it for the first time. It pains you to see him like this, completely disoriented and disconnected from reality.

“Why are we here? What has happened to the rest? Has he told you anything?”

These are the questions he asks every day without fail—questions that you can’t, nor want, to answer. Since you’re not exactly sure the explanation would soothe his troubled mind, you feel forced to play dumb.

“I don’t know, Charles. We don’t really talk that much, Logan and I,” you stand from the bed, not without pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before. You smile at him, hoping he doesn’t realize the gesture lacks authenticity. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.”

Once you close the door behind you, you settle back into it, releasing a shaky breath. Being Charles’ caregiver was a challenging task, especially in moments like these, which required immense internal strength not to crumble in front of him. You squeeze your eyes shut as you adjust to the harsh sunlight, fighting to regain your composure. When you finally scan the area, the only thing that meets your eye is the deserted smelting plant you now call home.

You open the sliding door, the noise breaking the stillness and forcing Logan to look up from his plate. He’s eating like a starved man, casually drinking from a small bottle of whisky on the table, already half of it gone. After those long drives through the nights and the early hours, he always returns hungry. You pour yourself a cup of coffee, setting it on the stove to heat.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes: he eats, and you sip your hot coffee in silence, not wishing to disturb the breakable peace that hangs by a thread. Thinking this is how the noon will continue, you begin to walk toward your room until he clears his throat, stopping you in your tracks. That simple gesture makes you whirl around, anticipating something.

“This is delicious,” he acknowledges, pointing to his plate with his fork, the rice with veggies and meat you cooked last night nearly gone. Dipping his chin, he adds in a low voice: “Thank you.”

You’re taken aback by his unexpected willingness to engage in conversation. Moments like these are as rare as seeing Halley’s Comet, so you proceed with caution, as if you’re approaching a skittish animal—one wrong move, and the opportunity is lost.

Setting your mug down on the table, you sit on the chair opposite him. Deep down, the hammering of your heart echoes in your ears, and you hope his sharp senses don’t pick up on it.

“I’m glad you liked it. Charles ate two bowls of it,” you explain, unable to suppress a smile. Logan hums, tilting his head to the side as he keeps devouring his meal. You take another sip of your coffee, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it down. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Huh?”

“Charles. He—he asks to see you a lot,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “I know it’s none of my business, but I think it would make him feel better if you spent more time with him.”

The sound of a distant train rumbles through the walls, amplifying the silence between you. Logan doesn’t utter a word; instead, he puts down his fork, the clinking noise making you jump slightly, the intensity of his stare becoming overwhelming.

“You’re right about one thing—what I do or don’t do is none of your goddamn business.”

Just like that, the buildup dissolves in a matter of seconds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. How stupid were you to think he might want to talk to you?  “I just—I want to be of help.”

“Just take care of Charles. That’s all you gotta worry about, all I’ve ever asked you to do,” he barks, clenching his jaw, and you can tell he means each word.

When he talks to you in this tone, it makes you think more rationally—it reminds you that you don’t really know him, and yet you agreed to work for him in exchange for a roof over your head and food on your plate. He’s not your friend, and he’s excellent at making that crystal clear every time you cross the line.

Logan pushes you away like you’re nothing, like you’re just another of the many burdens he has to deal with.

It should be enough to send you running to your room, but despite the knot tightening in your belly, you somehow remain rooted in place, your eyes sharp like daggers. As another train echoes in the silence, you come to terms with the knowledge that one more question will drive him away.

And sometimes, you speak before you think, as you do now: “Whose blood is that on your shirt?” you ask, voice steady and cold. Perhaps it’s you who wants him to leave this time.

He shakes his head with offense, frustration crinkling his eyes. “I don’t need this shit,” he groans, his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear it. He gets up from the table, placing his plate in the sink without much delicacy. At last, he heads to his room, slamming the door with a deafening thud that reverberates through the entire place.

It’s not a crush, that voice deep inside you insists as you’re left alone in the kitchen. And it’s valid: a mere crush wouldn't cause this kind of pain, wouldn’t make your chest feel this heavy and your limbs numb.

Whenever he leaves, he takes a part of you with him, never to be returned. By now, you’re certain he’s stolen all those missing pieces from you, and you’ve got no idea how much longer you can endure before you shatter completely.

You seem to have won this battle, but what you end up losing is far greater than any fleeting gratification.

Loving Logan is maddening, to say the least.

To this day, you still recall every detail of the night that altered the course of your life—the night you met Logan.

The memories are rather vivid in your mind, and you revisit that moment on nights like these, when you can’t sleep and the past appears to be much more appealing than your present. Pressing your cheek against the cold pillow, you let your eyelids drop, reconstructing the full scene behind your sealed eyes.

It was your third week working at that restaurant, and you were still getting used to its daily rhythm. Waitressing was working wonders for you—you had a good memory, and people often gave you generous tips. Everything was going well: you were the only waitress on shift, and your boss had left for a brief errand, promising he would be back soon.

During this lull, a group of men entered the restaurant, already drunk or high—probably both. They sat at one of the empty tables, immediately calling for you.

One of them, a tall blonde, was the loudest. “Come here, baby,” he pointed his finger at you, gesturing for you to approach him. The nickname felt wrong rolling off his tongue, and as you obliged, he shoved a handful of bills into the front pocket of your apron. He clutched your waist, dragging you nearer. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Think you can do something special for me?”

His friends cheered him on, laughing and pounding their fists on the table. You managed to slip from his grasp and asked them what they wanted to order. While they took their time deciding, you noticed a limousine parked in the distance, probably the vehicle that had brought these morons here. The driver rolled down his window, hanging his arm from the armrest. Though you couldn’t see his features, the interaction alone was enough to make you look away.

An hour went by, and the men refused to take off. They’d eaten, drunk, and danced—and driven you crazy in the process. The rest of the customers had decided to leave once they realized the night was far from finishing for the noisy group of friends. You apologized, feeling incapable of doing anything to change the situation. Your sanity felt threatened as you turned off the TV, ending the sixth round of karaoke, their shouts and hoots ringing in your ears.

“We’re closing in ten minutes,” you informed them, starting to collect their dirty plates and glasses. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the blonde man standing right beside you, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through your skin. He attempted to graze your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back, keeping a safe distance between you. “How do you plan to pay? Cash or credit?”

“How about with a kiss, huh?” he inched forward, his face dangerously close to yours. Unaccustomed to being approached in this manner, you ducked your head, unsure of your next move. His breath reeked of beer and vodka, a horrendous combination that had you nearly gagging on the spot. As he backed you against the counter, one of his large hands cradled your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. “I swear I can be very, very nice. You haven’t given me the chance to show it yet.”

“Hey, pal. You said one hour.”

The first time you heard his voice—low and husky, the kind that could send shivers down your spine. Your eyes locked with Logan’s, your pleading gaze seemingly stirring something in him as he got a grip on the situation. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and you didn’t miss how he limped as he made his way into the restaurant.

There was something about him—how he moved, his stance—that felt strangely familiar.

“We’re busy in here, chauffeur,” the blue-eyed man protested, slightly losing his balance while still holding your cheek.

Your rescuer squared off against him, their noses practically brushing. He worked his jaw, his half-lidded, tired eyes taking in the sight of you. “I’m no fortune-teller, but I don’t think she’s into you, bub.”

“Come again?” the blonde guy released you, much more concerned with defending his bruised pride. “What’s the matter, Grandpa? Is it past your bedtime?”

“I want you to pay me for the ride, and for waiting a fucking hour and a half for you and your friends,” the older man spat, jerking his thumb toward the limousine. “I’m not taking you back to the hotel. You might want to start looking’ for another driver.”

The group of men closed in around him, their anger bubbling. “That’s not cool, dude. We had a deal,” another voice snapped, but Logan couldn’t seem to care less.

“Well, the deal’s off. And leave the girl alone, will you?” he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. “So, where’s my money?”

He couldn’t have predicted it. One of the men behind him swung a plate, striking him in the nape and catching him off guard. Logan collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in pain. The others took the opportunity and began to pummel him, kicks and punches landing wherever they could.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, desperately trying to intervene. You grabbed at their clothes, digging your fingernails into every patch of exposed skin you could find, but they shoved you aside with brutal force. Your back slammed against the nearest wall, a jolt of sudden pain making you wince.

The blood in your veins turned to ice as you watched, paralyzed with fear that they might kill him. But then—

Three metallic claws emerged from his knuckles, and he used them to push himself upright. Despite the blood smeared across his nose and mouth, he managed to stand, his quickened breathing coming out in short puffs. The men backed away in shock, leaving him alone amidst the chaos. 

You stared at him, your hands trembling as recognition dawned: it was the Wolverine. The familiarity, the sense of having seen him before, all made sense now. It all flooded back in a rush—the comics, the news, the rumors.

“Get the hell outta my sight,” he growled, pressing his claws against the fabric of the blue-eyed man’s jacket, making him flinch.

You couldn’t make out what you were feeling. It wasn’t fear, but intrigue. Even as the group of men fled the restaurant, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. At first, he avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes as he retracted his claws.

Once the immediate danger had passed, he slumped forward, groaning. You gently draped one of his arms around your shoulders and helped him into a nearby chair. His weight felt like a thousand bricks, but you accomplished to get him seated.

He rubbed a shaky hand over his graying beard, his face twisting in pain as you pressed a makeshift towel of napkins against his lower lip, where blood continued to flow. Taking the towel from you, he continued tending to himself. You scanned his features, scrutinizing him.

“You are…” you began, the words feeling inadequate at the moment.

Logan nodded hesitantly, his silence confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, that’s me,” he tugged at his shirt collar, exposing some of his chest hair, fresh blood staining his work clothes. Your gaze fell there, and you quickly chided yourself. The poor guy was bleeding, and you were checking him out. Jeez.

Kneeling by his side, you introduced yourself. “Thank you for stepping up for me,” you said afterward, and he shook his head dismissively. “They were a pain in the ass. I don’t know how you even managed to drive them here.”

“Money’s money, darlin’. Doesn’t matter where it comes from, as long as—” he was interrupted by a coughing fit, and your concern deepened as you continued to spot more of his injuries. “I’ll heal,” he reassured you, his expression softening in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

Your eyes pierced his with an intensity that seemed to unsettle him. A flush of crimson crept into your cheeks as a question surfaced in your mind: “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You don’t owe me anything, kid,” he replied, a hint of gruffness in his voice.

“But I could help you,” you persisted, your voice betraying a touch of eagerness. Stifling a cough, you tried to mask your enthusiasm, and sighed. “Are you hungry? I could cook you something, or pour you a drink. We’ve got plenty of liquor—”

Logan interrupted you, placing the towel down on the table. “Have you ever taken care of an old person?” 

Tilting your head, you considered his question. “How old?”

“Ninety-somethin’.”

You nodded, memories of the events from years ago surfacing. “I lived with my grandparents for most of my life. When they fell ill, I spent a lot of time with them. My mom had to work long hours, and I—well, the point is, I did take care of them,” you paused for an instant, his expression unreadable, though you perceived a slight relaxation in his posture, as if your answer had put him at ease. “I like being around old people. They have stories to tell,” you added, a genuine smile breaking through, “and I’m a good listener.”

“Then I suppose there is somethin’ you can help me with.”

And so began a new chapter in your life. The very next day, you were moving in with him and Charles. It took several weeks for the latter to warm up to you and get used to your presence. Initially, he was hopeful that you might also be a mutant, but his disappointment was palpable when he discovered you lacked any supernatural gifts. Leaving that aside, he valued your company.

“The shots mellow the seizures. The pills keep them from happening’,” Logan had once explained, detailing the medications Charles needed. You recalled the psychic attack from a year ago and its consequences, but that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with Logan, and you understood why.

“Where do you get these?” you asked, examining the bottle of pills with a curious glance. “Without a prescription, I mean.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know.”

Soon, you got adapted to the whole package: his unpredictable temperament, his mood swings, and his nightmares. Logan Howlett was a puzzle box of surprises, one you could never quite unlock.

Fast forward to the present day, you realize it must be already late, because Logan’s heading to work. You stand on your tiptoes, peering out of your bedroom window. Your warm breath fogs the glass as his eyes find yours, and then he slips into the vehicle, blending into the shadows of the night. The distant rumble of his limousine signals his departure, your forehead pressed against the glass, as if somehow that could take you with him.

There goes another piece of you.

You find yourself shaving Charles the moment worry takes over your senses.

He’s retelling a familiar story: that one time Logan, Scott, Jean, and Storm saved Rogue from Magneto. On any other day, you wouldn’t mind listening to his stories, despite having heard them countless times. This one in particular is your favorite. But today, it’s hard to focus on it, even more when one of its main characters is missing in action.

Logan hasn’t come back home yet.

It’s been an entire day, and he’s usually back by morning to rest. Now, after having cooked dinner and helping Charles shower, you’ve run out of distractions. There’s nothing left to occupy your thoughts, nothing to ease the building anxiety gnawing at you.

You texted him multiple times—no answer. You even called—also nothing. Every time Charles asks if Logan’s at work or sleeping, the knot in your chest tightens. That’s when your mind starts to spiral, and you’re convinced you’ll burst any moment.

After putting him to bed, you pace the kitchen, picking at your nails and biting the raw skin around them. The sting of pain is there, but it’s faint, not enough to overshadow the real fear clawing at your insides. All these what-ifs that storm through your mind make you feel nauseous: what if he’s dead? What would you do with Charles? How would you provide for both of you without a salary?

Just as you’re about to dial his number again, Logan materializes out of thin air through the sliding door.

He’s got a dark bruise under his right eye, and his once-white shirt is littered with bloodstains. You stare at him—he’s limping harder than usual, each of his movements slower. Walking towards him, your hands cup his face. His skin feels rough beneath your fingers, and he lets out a grunt as you graze his split lip. “What happened?”

“They were following’ me. Had been doing’ so for a few days now,” he says, making no effort to pull away.

“Did you kill them?“ you wonder out loud, still inspecting his injuries. The pad of your thumb hovers inches away from his bruised mouth.

Covering your hands with his, Logan ducks his head, closing his eyes for a brief second and swallowing thickly. “Somebody had to do it, sweetheart.”

You limit yourself to a nod, because you know there’s nothing you can reproach him for. You were no stranger to the idea of him killing. It was an implicit truth between you.

“I thought—I was so scared, and I—“ your voice wavers, and you feel your eyes watering, the tears prickling at the corners. “I thought you—“

He doesn’t let you finish, already knowing how it would end. “Hey, look at me,” he’s the one touching you now, tilting your chin up. Your eyes keep flickering over the cuts and old scars you spot on his cheeks, his neck. Logan forces a pained smile, unable to hide his discomfort. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Just a bit fucked up, but nothin’ you haven’t seen before,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and it works. You bite your lower lip, suppressing your grin. “I always come back, don’t I?”

“But you can barely stand,” you whisper, not sure why you’re speaking so softly. You make him turn his back to you, helping him shrug off his coat. As expected, remnants of dried blood decorate his shirt like highlights. “Let me help you.” 

“I don’t—“

”There are cuts all over your back. And your chest—you’re not healing properly,” you say, turning him to face you again. The look on his face suggests only one thing: he’s about to throw in the towel. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.” You think you’ve never been this close before, his proximity both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. “Please.”

He ends up giving in to your persuasion, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom. Logan sits down on the toilet, watching you gather supplies to clean his wounds. When you come back, he’s still staring at you, his eyelashes fluttering together each time he blinks. Starting with his cheek, you press a damp towel to his skin, and he hisses. It takes everything in you not to flinch in sympathy.

“How’s Charles?” he asks, probably trying to distract himself as you continue to clean his wounds, the towel darkening with his blood over time. 

“He’s doing great. Asked for you a lot, actually,” you take a look at his jaw, where one shallow cut is already starting to fade away thanks to his healing ability, something that never fails to amaze you.

Logan hums, tilting his head. ”I’ll check on him in the morning,” he murmurs, and you flash him a quick smile, finishing with his face. He’s now free of dirt and blood, his brows furrowing as he pauses to collect his thoughts. “The other day, when we talked—“

You cut him off, turning to the sink as you rinse the towel, watching the water get red. “Forget it.”

“No, it wasn’t okay—how I acted,” he stands up from the toilet, and you feel his presence behind you, the alarm inside your head going off as the space between you shrinks. “I know you just want what’s best for him. For us. I’m sorry I was a jerk,” his voice comes out even huskier at this time of the night, sounding afraid of waking someone, even though it’s just the two of you here.

“Apology accepted,” you swirl around to meet his gaze, only to find yourself nose-to-nose with him, and you lean back against the sink, your spine pressed into the cool surface. Logan places his hands on both sides of the vanity, caging you with his body. Like the most beautiful tree, he stands tall in front of you, and you take a deep breath, getting drunk on his distinctive scent. “Are you… okay?”

You watch as he lowers his head, pursing his lips before muttering: “Imma need you to do something more for me,” he says, almost pleading, and you can’t avoid the amount of thoughts that rush into your mind. Gone was your decency when you had to deal with him.

That’s when he looks up to find your eyes, his harsh expression evolving into a more vulnerable one. “Have you ever removed a bullet?”

If you thought listening to Logan’s nightmares was painful, nothing could have prepared you for the sounds he makes while you pull several bullets from his wounds. 

He sits shirtless in front of you, grunting at each of your careful movements. As you remove one bullet lodged near his ribs, Logan practically yells, and you rest your cheek against his, desperate to ease his suffering. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m almost done,” you whisper into his ear, hoping your words might bring him some relief. He lets his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder, trusting you enough to tend to his injuries, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

It takes you half an hour to clean both his chest and back, but Logan doesn’t complain. When you’re finished, he goes straight to his room, flopping onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing still labored. You wish you could lie beside him, even just for a few minutes, but your last shred of self-control stops you from doing such a thing.

“Get some sleep,” you say leaning against the doorframe, your advice sounding more like a plea. He looks exhausted, dark circles sunken beneath his eyes. 

Logan lets out a bitter laugh. “Do I look that bad?”

You roll your eyes at that, your fingers curling around the doorknob. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you catch something in his look—a glimmer of something you can’t quite put into words, but you decide not to look further into it. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, darlin’—and thank you,” he murmurs, holding your gaze until the door shuts between you.

Then you sprint to your room, gently closing the door before biting back a smile, replaying the last hour in your mind. How close to you he had been, how comfortable he seemed around you.

You hadn’t just crossed lines—you’d broken them. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Somehow, your racing mind calms down, and you fall asleep, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting against your chest.

You’re a light sleeper. The sound of something shattering wakes you, leaving you startled and disoriented. Dawn is just breaking, the first rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You sit up, pricking up your ears as you scratch the back of your head, listening attentively.

Logan’s voice filters into your room—he lets out a string of profanities, and you stifle a giggle, throwing off your covers and putting on a sweatshirt that matches your pajamas.

Barefoot, you walk down the hall, stopping at the kitchen’s entrance. Logan is kneeling beside the table, gathering the shards of a broken mug. It seems like he’s just gotten out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck.

“That was my favorite one,” you say in a low voice, teasing him. His back muscles flex under the material of his shirt, and he turns to look at you, his expression a silent apology. “I take it you’re not using your glasses?”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” rising to his feet, he grunts, digging his fingers into his lower back with a grimace. “They’re called readers for a reason.”

You decide to let him have that one, grabbing a new mug from the shelf and handing it to him. He accepts it, thanking you, and fills it with freshly brewed coffee.

“Was it a nightmare?“ you ask, watching as he sinks into the couch, spreading his thighs apart with a sigh while you take a seat at the table instead.

Logan gives a nod, sipping some of his coffee. “At least I slept for a few hours.” 

“Are you really going to stay up? It’s pretty early,” you stretch your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you before you can hold it back.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then comes your question: “Can I join you?” you prop your elbows on your knees, any trace of sleepiness now gone with the wind.

He squints his eyes, his unrelenting stare boring into you. “Feel free.”

So here you are, studying him as he drinks his coffee, his fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic. There are so many things you want to ask him—about how he’s feeling, if his wounds have healed—but it seems you’ve entered a silent staring contest without even knowing it.

Not that you mind him looking at you—you just want to know the reason why.

You snort, and he arches a brow. “Do I have something on my face?” you decide to ask him, straightening your back.

“I guess I can’t help but wonder why you agreed to all of this,” he says, setting the mug down with a soft clink. By this, you understand he’s referring to being Charles’ caregiver and leaving your old job behind. “I mean—you could be doing better things with your life. Why would you choose to do this?”

“I told you before: I wanted to help you,” you shrug, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach tightens with nerves. You watch as Logan folds his arms, the muscles of his biceps becoming more visible. “Plus, I love being around Charles.

“I don’t think people your age would be that interested in spending their days like this,” he says, and you toy with a lock of your hair, wrapping it around your finger.

“Well, good thing I’m not like most people my age then.”

His silence hangs heavy in the air until he speaks again. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know that feeling when life seems like a race? And you just have to keep up with certain things that everybody else is doing, or you’ll be left behind?” you pause, the words falling more naturally than you’d expected. Logan nods, making it seem like he understands what you’re trying to say. Whether he truly does it or not, you don’t know. “When my friends started going to parties, getting boyfriends… I couldn’t. My family wouldn’t let me. And even when I could, it felt like it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

Inhaling sharply, you stop yourself. The conversation suddenly feels far too personal.

“You never had a boyfriend?” he gets more comfortable on the couch, his voice gruff as he rubs his chin, waiting for a reply.

A familiar heat settles between your legs. “I went out with some guys, but it never led to anything serious,” you say, your cheeks getting warmer the more details you share with him. “I guess I wasn’t the kind of girl they were looking for,” you add, not missing the way his lips twitch momentarily.

“How could they not want you?”

“They didn’t think like you do.”

“That’s because they were boys, not men,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to your hands before returning to your face. “Did they treat you right, those boys?”

Swallowing hard, you can hardly register the uncertainty in your own voice. “I mean… yes, I think they did. They were nice to me.”

There it is—the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Nice doesn’t mean good, though.”

You dig your nails onto the table, your pulse quickening, trying to hide how affected you are by his words. “What is it that you want to know?”

“Come sit with me, doll.”

Doll. Doll. Doll. Inside your chest, your heart gallops, your legs trembling as you get off the table, moving closer to him. Feeling lighter with every step you take, you plop down beside him, and Logan sits straighter, his knees almost bumping into yours. You can’t bring yourself to look at him—this is happening, just like in your filthiest dreams.

His hand slides up to yours, not applying any sort of pressure. He scrutinizes your skin, bringing your hand to his lips, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. It tickles, it burns—it ignites a fire inside you, one you know you can’t ignore. A gasp attempts to escape you, but you suppress it.

“Did you let them touch you?” he whispers, attaching his mouth to your neck, brushing the sensitive spot where your jaw and ear meet.

This time, you moan, any possible rational thoughts turning into putty, melting with the way he’s touching you. “Logan,” you purr his name, begging for something, anything he’s willing to give you. Your thighs, once shoved together, spread of their own accord, and you hear him click his tongue.

“I asked you something,” his teeth graze your pulse point, forcing you to close your eyes.

“I didn’t. They wanted to, but I—I wouldn’t let them,” you answer, and as if he’s rewarding you, his fingers begin to tug on the hem of your sweatshirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the floor, admiring you.

“Why?”

Goddamn.

“Because I was waiting for the right guy,” you manage to get out, grasping his hand and positioning it on top of your right breast, encouraging him to go on with what he had started. His pupils widen further, and he squeezes your tit roughly, eliciting a moan from you. “I think I’ve found him.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any sign of repentance in your expression. “I’m going to hell for this,” he murmurs under his breath, his hard-on noticeable through his tented sweatpants. “Lay down,” you obey his command, easing yourself onto the couch, and sinking into the cushions as he presses himself to your side. He peppers your neck with kisses, playing with the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.”

You accept his offer, knowing that you’ll probably regret it in a couple of hours. Right now, it doesn’t matter. You need his electrifying touch, his fingers, his—

With a swift motion, your shorts are yanked down your legs, and his calloused hands part your thighs even wider. A damp spot on your underwear sells you out, and his thumb rubs gentle circles over that area, causing you to lift your hips. “So this is what you look like when you touch yourself, huh?” he edges his fingers closer to your clit, his breath tickling your ear, and he dips his tongue into your collarbone. “I hear you all the fuckin’ time. You’re not as quiet as you think.”

It should embarrass you, the fact that he has listened to you pleasuring yourself. But in a moment like this, it only succeeds in fuelling your desire. “Please. You said you’d make me feel good.”

“And I will, but you’re greedy as hell,” he says, his movements more deliberate now. You feel hot all over as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. Logan’s on the verge of drooling over you, reaching for your folds and spreading your wetness. “Men aren’t strong creatures, honey. You’ve got no idea how hard it is to hold back.”

“D-don’t hold back,” you stutter, losing your composure when he returns to your clit, his fingers coated in your arousal while they flick your swollen bud. “Oh, Logan…”

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he rasps, mouthing at your jaw, though as you try to kiss him, he slows his pace. “What’s wrong? Am I not giving you enough?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper, fascinated by how big his fingers look in comparison to your pussy. “I’m just—”

“Needy, I know,” he finishes for you, and he picks up his merciless rhythm again. Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and you can’t help but arch your back every time he teases you, grazing your entrance with his middle finger. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You dig your nails into his arm, relishing the way his body responds to your touch. He grinds his cock against your hip, his teeth nipping at the column of your neck. “I want to come. Please, make me come,” you sob, letting out a shaky breath. A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and Logan locks eyes with you after what feels like an eternity. “Please, Lo.”

The nickname snaps something inside of him. His fingers circle your clit with a fervency you hadn’t experienced before, your pleasure seemingly being his primary focus. “The shit I’d do for you.”

You warn him, telling him you’re close—so so so close—until the fire in your belly flares, and blood rushes to your ears. You collapse against him, holding his hand firmly against your core, hips jerking as you ride your orgasm. The world narrows down to this—this moment, your most desired fantasy.

Logan holds you as you go limp in his arms, rubbing your clit ever so slightly, murmuring soft praises. “Y’did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your temple, burying his nose in your hair. You’re still out of breath, the pulsing between your parted legs persisting long after your release. “Told you you weren’t quiet.”

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, his beard tickling you as he slides his hands up under your shirt, finding your nipples. “It was n-nice,” you tell him, your voice faltering the more he toys with your hardened peaks. Your skin heats up again, heart racing at the thought that he isn’t done with you yet.

“Just nice?” one of his hands makes its way back into your pussy, ghosting his fingers over your hole, and he smirks when he feels you squirm. “You surely know how to hurt a man’s pride.”

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” you can’t structure a proper sentence, not when he’s playing with you like this. Logan rubs your arousal between his fingers, as though he wants you to see how slick you still are, even after coming. “Are you going to touch me again?”

He hums, feigning uncertainty. “What do you think, baby? Should I make you come with my fingers now?”

It’s like a switch flips in your mind. He knows exactly how to make you beg and which buttons to push, using that power to his advantage. “Yes, please. I want it,” you plead, intending to buck your hips into his touch, impatient for more.

“Do you fuck yourself with your fingers?” 

“Sometimes, but I can never finish—Oh my God,” he slips one finger inside you, causing you to curse, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench around the intrusion, your head falling back onto the cushions. “Fuck me.”

“In a minute,” he begins to thrust his finger in and out, gathering your juices every time he goes back to hammering that sweet spot in your interior. Soon, one finger becomes two, and he reduces you to a panting mess.

Tears threaten to well in your eyes, and you whine as he involves his other hand in the matter, furiously rubbing your clit. “Your fingers feel much better than m-mine, Lo.”

“I can tell,” he curls them just right, and you push back against his thrusts, tilting your pelvis to meet him halfway. “There you go. Take what you need, pretty girl. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Everything feels frenzied, fast, the way your inner walls spam and contract around his fingers as you chase your second climax. Once you come down from your high, your blurred vision catches him tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock springs free, and he fists himself, stroking his length angrily. You watch as some pre-cum dribbles from the head, and you lean forward, watching it closely.

“You look goddamn beautiful when you come, darlin’,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight. Hovering over you, he rucks your shirt up until he can see your tits from above. He alternates between your breasts, squeezing them while he continues to stroke his girth. “Want to see these all dirty.”

Logan truly loses it when your hand reaches out to him, tracing a bulging vein near the head of his cock. You meet his lustful gaze, batting your lashes, and then you feel his come splashing against your bare chest, a choked moan escaping Logan’s throat, spurts of his hot seed landing on your skin.

“Fuckin’ hell… fuck,” he grunts, still tugging at his cock, enamored with the masterpiece he’s created. When it’s finally over, he lies beside you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles further into your touch with a groan. “I’m too old for this.”

Minutes pass as both of you seem to grasp the gravity of what has just happened. Eventually, Logan rises to his feet, disappearing for a brief moment before coming back with a towel to wipe his come off your stomach and chest. He’s gentle with you, his gaze trained on his task until his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pulling your shorts back up.

“Like what?” 

“Like you want to see right through me,” he adjusts your shirt to cover your body again, but the towel remains in his hand, a reminder of the previous events.

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

You don’t have to talk about it. You definitely don’t. 

Two days later, he’s the one who comes looking for you.

You’re nearly asleep when he knocks on your door. “Come in,” you mumble, a bit of drool having dampened your pillow. You dry your mouth with the back of your hand, your back turned to the door.

He steps into your room cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. The mattress dips under his weight. “Were you sleeping?” he asks, caressing your leg over the covers. 

You shift onto your back, your body responding before your mind. There’s no blood on his clothes—that makes you feel a bit better, and you shake your head.

“Good,” he looms closer, fumbling with his belt. His thumb applies little pressure to your lower lip, and your mouth parts to let him in, salivating.

This is just like Pavlov’s dog experiment—except that Logan isn’t an experimenter, and you aren’t a dog. Yet, when he approaches you like this, you can’t help but respond, settling into a routine where you both take take take from each other.

Logan doesn’t fuck you, even when you beg him to. He gets you off with his fingers, his thigh, his mouth—but his cock remains out of the equation. 

“Just the tip,” you plead, voice laced with pure need, when he’s got his face nestled between your legs. 

As he stops eating you out, his beard shiny with your arousal, he’s still got that angry look on his face. Your cries don’t get to him. “That lie’s older than me,” he slips his fingers back inside you, aiming to make you drop the subject. “Come on, baby. I gotta get ready for work, but you need to come first.”

Nor does he stay the night after telling you you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life. Just when you think he’s fallen asleep, his legs intertwined with yours and one of his large hands under your head, you drift off.

By the time morning comes, he’s gone. You just know that when night falls, he’ll be back for more, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Despite all that, Logan won’t kiss you. He keeps his promise—you hate how determined he is. 

“Not even once?” you ask him one night while going over the scars on his back. You’re in his bed this time, and he has his nose buried in his pillow, moments away from dozing off. 

“No,” he answers, squirming slightly under your touch. “I’m tired. Stop doing that.”

“How did you get this one?” you trace one scar that’s close to his shoulder, resting your chin just inches from it.

He turns his face to see your eyes. “Well, I was doing Pilates, and I—Hey!” he laughs when you pinch the skin near his ribs, tickling him. “I don’t even remember. Must’ve got it a long time ago.”

“Did it hurt?” it’s a dumb question, but he doesn’t mention it.

His index finger grazes your cheek, and he chuckles at the way your eyelids flutter. “In the past, they all did. But not anymore,” he replies, though you wish you could believe him. You know he’s in pain most days. That when he goes down on you, and he’s on his knees for too long, he has trouble standing up without cursing. That no amount of alcohol, or his healing ability, helps him with it.

You kiss each of his scars before curling against his side, brushing your nose against his. “And now?” your eyes fall to his lips, silently hoping he’ll say Yes.

Instead, he sighs. “I think we should go to sleep.”

So despite the lack of kisses, the miscommunication, and the fact that he won’t fuck you even though you know—you feel—he wants to, things are good between you. Charles notices it, openly expressing his recent realization.

“He looks happier, doesn’t he?” the old man says after winning two games of chess in a row, startling you. 

“Logan, you mean?”

“Yes, my dear.”

You glance down at the board, fidgeting with the pieces. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he parrots your previous words, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “Look at me,” he says, and as you do it, he points a shaky finger toward your neck. “I assume mosquitos have taken a liking to you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, your hand flying up to cover the hickey you had completely forgotten about in the first place. “Charles, I’m—“

“Are you happy?” he interrupts you, and you nod, because you are. 

A nagging thought lingers at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’re asking for too much, but it still feels like something’s missing.

One morning, you accidentally overhear a conversation between them. The door of the tank is ajar, and right before you step inside, you recognize Logan’s voice in the distance.

“Charles, I’m fine, alright? I don’t need your advice.”

There’s a pause before Charles responds. “You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.”

Logan doesn’t say anything in response to that. And if he does, you don’t stick around long enough find out, because you’re already turning on your heel.

A poet once said: “Blowjobs are fucking amazing.”

Actually, you might be wrong. Those may not have been a poet’s words, but your best friend Keira’s from high school. You remember the sleepovers at her place—she had a boyfriend at the time, a boy she had met at a party you hadn’t been invited to. 

“Welcome to blowjobs 101,” she had declared one night, holding a hairbrush like a microphone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll tell you everything you need to know when the moment comes.”

Luckily, many years later, that moment arrived.

Just ten minutes ago, you were cooking dinner, sniffling back tears while chopping onions, so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Logan was already home. He tossed his keys onto the table, hugging you from behind seconds later. You leaned back against his chest, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, his lips planting soft kisses wherever they could.

“How was work?” you dropped the knife, wiping your tears as you turned to face him, throwing your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you in tighter by the waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Hell, as usual,” he looked into your eyes, finding them all glossy. “You miss me so much you started crying?”

Of course, you didn’t talk about it—but words aren’t the only ones who can convey meaning.

You’re not sure how, but one thing led to another, and now you’re on your knees, Logan’s cock filling your mouth. Your lips, swollen and red, suck hard at his tip, pulling the foreskin back, and his hips jerk deeper into your throat. “That’s it, fuck. Doin’ so good.”

Your movements are far from graceful. As a matter of fact, it’s all too sloppy and desperate. Saliva drips down your chin, some of it coating his balls, and you fondle them at the same time you bob your head. Keira’s advice plays on repeat in your mind, and you pull out every trick you know to make Logan roll his eyes.

So far, you think you’re doing pretty great, judging by the way he’s gripping the back of your head.

“H-how is this your first time suckin’ cock?” he slurs, more to himself, his voice strangled as you make eye contact with him. He brushes your hair out of your face, bewitched by the sight of him disappearing into your wet mouth. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

Taken aback by his sudden confession. you involuntarily gag around him. He pulls you off his cock, not even sparing you a glance, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Wait, Logan—”

“Not now,” he mutters abruptly, withdrawing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

But still, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

How bad is it to tell somebody you love them and then avoid them?

Yeah, it’s absolutely terrible, right? Tell that to the idiot himself—Logan Howlett.

It’s been over a week, and no matter how many times you press him for an explanation, he keeps dodging it.

Things go back to how they were before you two started fooling around, and Charles’ questions don’t take long to come: “I thought you two were getting somewhere.”

“Me too,” you admit, your voice quieter as you try to appear indifferent. You have no answer for him. Not that you don’t want to discuss your relationship problems—it’s just that you don’t know what went wrong.

When evading you isn’t enough, he works longer hours, which only adds to how little you see him. At least he lets you know if he’s going to be late, sparing you from waiting up. But apart from that, your interactions have dwindled to nothing, and it’s eating you alive.

You’re madly in love with him. You thought you knew that already, but now that he’s distant, the depth of your feelings has become clearer than ever. He’s everywhere you go, just not physically—he has conquered your mind.

And it should be funny, loving someone who used to be no more than a myth for you. Though Logan is real—maybe too real for your own good—and he hasn’t been the mutant you once read about for quite some time.

This morning, he’s having breakfast at the table when you walk into the kitchen. You hold your breath as your shoulders brush for a microsecond, his gaze following your steps. You’re no longer accustomed to sharing the same space with him, so it makes sense that you stay as far away as possible.

After an awkward silence, he stands up and mutters something about checking on Charles and giving him his meds, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s infuriating, how collected he seems. Why isn’t he miserable like you? Doesn’t he miss you? Didn’t you two have something… special?

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

The shit I’d for you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

Not now.

The memory of his words lingers, seared into your unconscious, though the sound of his phone jolts you out of your thoughts. It’s ringing beside the coffee machine, and you try to ignore it, determined to be the bigger person.

But after five minutes of the relentless ringtone echoing in the empty kitchen, you’ve had enough.

Unknown caller—interesting. What could he possibly be hiding?

Charles, you better keep that asshole busy, you think to yourself, swiping right to answer the call.

Before you can say anything, a woman’s voice fills the line.

“James! Thank God. It’s Gillian. You didn’t reply to any of my texts, and I was starting to get worried,” she lets out a giggle, the sound grating against your nerves.

As your grip on the phone tightens, your knuckles start to go white.

“Look, I know you said you weren’t available, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that ride. I didn’t see any ring on your finger, so what do you say, huh? Will you let me take you out?”

Red. You’re seeing red.

“James? Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

At last, you clear your throat. “Hey,” you greet her, pacing around the kitchen. “I’m deeply sorry, but James can’t talk right now.”

“Excuse me?” she snaps, her high-pitched voice echoing through the speakers, and you pull the device away from your ear. “This is James’ number. Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you who the fuck I am, you intolerant piece of—” before you can finish, the phone is yanked out of your hand, the call hastily ending.

There is no use in playing dumb, not when Logan’s standing right in front of you, observing you like you’re a child who’s made a severe mistake. His deep, brown eyes pierce your soul, shattering any chance you had of coming up with an excuse.

“What where you doing with my phone?” it’s the first thing he asks you, his voice still steady, the calm before the storm. Perhaps you’re not as mature as you thought you were—your forehead furrows, unwilling to back down, and you fall silent. He takes a step forward, as if he can’t believe your attitude. “Think I asked you something. Why did you answer?”

“Gillian sounds like a lovely lady. Tell her I said ‘hi’ the next time you see her,” you croak, attempting to walk past him, but he doesn’t budge, his solid frame blocking your path. You collide with his chest, and it feels like trying to move a brick wall without success.

“We’re talking. You can’t just leave.”

The nerve of this man.

“You can’t be serious,” you retort, staring at him, wishing the emotion in your tone could capture even a fraction of what you’re truly feeling. “Weren’t you the one who walked away first? After telling me you loved me?” you search for any sign of the man who once held you close, but he feels miles away, hidden under all these layers that smell like cheap whiskey and gasoline. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I did. I meant every word,” he growls, his fists clenching at his sides, and you don’t miss the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles that expose the fragile façade of control he’s so desperate to maintain. “Goddamit! You’re doing that thing again!”

“What thing?” you exclaim, your mouth hanging open in frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are! You’re trying to see through me, like you can read my mind.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a fucking mutant. I just have eyes, Logan,” you throw your arms up, exasperated. “People actually look at each other when they have a conversation, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And you are testing mine,” you rest your back against the table, raising your chin. “So, who is she?”

Logan drops his shoulders, slamming his eyes shut. “I drove her once, last week. It was a long ride and she… wouldn’t stop talking. Didn’t shut up for a single second. She hit on me, but I told her I’m off the market.”

“Why? ‘Cause she talked too much?”

“No. Because I love you,” he says, pure awe transforming his expression, like he doesn’t believe he has said it out loud. “I don’t know when I started feeling like this, or if I’ve always felt it, but—I do. I love you.”

Oh.

You had heard those words slip through his lips before, but now they sound different. It might be that keeping him at arm's length has felt like death by a thousand cuts, or perhaps it’s the realization that this is the first time someone’s declaring their love for you.

Fuck. He loves you. As in, he’s in love with you?

“Then why do you keep running?” you edge closer to him, your eyes trained on his. “I’m done with the chase, Logan. It’s tiring—I am tired. I’ve been sleeping like shit, trying to figure out what—”

His arms surrounding your body, cutting you off and pulling you close. The hammering of his heart matches yours, and you return the hug, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

You fear that this might be all you’ve ever needed, feeling as if the pieces he took from you in the past are finally falling back into place. Logan holds you as if in a past life he lost you, but now, he’s decided to never let you go.

This profound sense of completeness, of being where you’re meant to be, makes you realize you’ve found home in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry. This… this scares me, alright?” he murmurs next to your ear, raking his fingers through your hair. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel anymore. That’s what I’m running from—the part of me I thought was gone. But you… you brought it back.”

You feel a deep urge to curl up and cry, wondering why on earth he would ever think he was unworthy of being cared for. “Logan, I…”

“I sound pathetic, I know. It sounded way better in my head.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you retreat a bit, looking him in the eye. He stares down at you with a tenderness you’ve never seen before. “It’s not pathetic to voice how you feel. I want to know it all, want to know everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. But I need you to promise me that you won’t run away anymore. I know it’s difficult, but it’s not fair to any of us.”

His eyes peer directly into yours, and he gives a nod. “I promise to do my best,” he presses your foreheads together, and that’s when his mouth turns into a grin. “You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, gripping your waist. “Come on, I said it first. Twice, for the record.”

Lifting your shoulders in a half-shrug, you find it hard to conceal your smile. “I may need a bit more convincing.”

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

Before you know it, his lips are on yours, almost making you lose your balance. You whimper into his mouth, tightening your arms around his neck as his tongue wastes no time in finding yours, stroking it sensually. The wait had been definitely worth it—you’d do everything all over again if it meant having him kiss you like this at the end of the day.

He tilts your face so that he can deepen the kiss, and a whine gets caught in your throat when his fingers pull gently at the hair at your nape, nibbling at your bottom lip. 

“I love you, too. Very much, to be honest,” you blurt out against his mouth, pleased with the way he laughs at your reaction, squeezing your hips. “But I still have some ideas in mind.”

“I’m all ears.”

Here goes nothing. “Fuck me like I’ve been asking you to,” you cup his cheeks, guiding his lips into yours one more time. “Please,” you mewl, standing on your tiptoes. “Want you to be my first.”

If it were up to you, you would’ve begged him to take you right there on the kitchen floor. But Logan, ever the gentleman, insists on moving things to his room. Each of his movements is slow, igniting your skin with a burning heat, leaving his name imprinted where his teeth sink into your soft flesh.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear by the time he murmurs: “Let me take my time with you,” trailing his lips down your chest, your stomach, until he’s planting several kisses along your ankle. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, baby. Look at you.”

Under his gaze, you feel shy, your eyes snapping to the ceiling instead. “Shut up,” you say, tugging at his shirt to undress him, your fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen before you pull him into a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue.

He strips out of his black slacks and hovers over you, his clothed cock grinding against your throbbing core, eliciting a moan from both of you. “So goddamn beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine,” his tip grazes your entrance through the fabric, making your toes curl in ectasy. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I swear.”

At first, he’s extremely careful, making sure to stretch you out with his fingers while you stroke him, pumping your fist to match his rhythm. “Keep that up and this’ll be over sooner than expected,” he warns, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

It doesn’t happen like it does in the books or movies. No foreplay could’ve prepared you for the moment he enters you. You move clumsily beneath him, your nose bumping into his forehead as he eases the first inch of his length inside.

For a moment, you’re not certain which hurts most: the dull ache in your nose or the way he’s splitting you open. 

Logan freezes, his eyes wide in concern. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?” His hand cradles your face as he props himself up on one forearm, pushing your hair back while you adjust to his size. You laugh despite the sting, and he wipes away your tears with his thumb. “You’re laughing?”

“I’m just happy,” you manage to get through the lump in your throat, raking your nails down his back, feeling the rough texture of the scars beneath your fingers. “I love you. Since that day at the bar, I—” you pause for a second, gasping at the sudden wave of pleasure when he twitches inside you. “I’ll always l-love you. Forever.”

As you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him you’re ready, something inside him shifts. He feels like a madman, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, searching for any hint of discomfort, though he occasionally glances down at the place where your bodies meet and become one, entranced by the sight of you taking him in, slick coating his length. 

Your heels dig into his lower back, pulling him back to the present—back to you, with your pretty tits bouncing each time he pistols his hips, the intensity of his thrusts increasing.

“All those times you took care of me, when you—Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw to regain some of his composure, his humid breath dampening your skin. Your scent drives him wild, and he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You made me feel loved when no one else did. My girl, love you so f-fucking much.”

His pace is nothing more than a voiceless testament to everything he feels but can’t find words to express.

With each minute that passes, your dripping cunt grips him tighter and tighter, his thrusts losing finesse. He needs you to come first—why does he feel like a virgin?

When you tell him you’re close, the world around him turns into a musical. You cling to the sheets, the mattress creaking noisily as he clutches the headboard, determined to find that angle that will push you over the edge. “That’s it, sing for me,” Logan mutters from above, hypnotized by the crease forming between your brows. “Come on, let go.”

Time seems to slow down as your muscles tense and you clamp around him, your body sagging against him. His name spills from your lips in breathy whimpers, like an endless prayer, and your mouth engulfs his, tongues and teeth clashing in a fevered kiss.

Soon after that, he surrenders to the coiling tension deep within him, pulling out just in time to stroke himself once, twice, before emptying his hot load across your mound. You gently thumb the head of his cock, coaxing out every last drop of his hot seed. He’s panting as he comes down from his high, his brain foggy and blissfully blank for a while. 

Logan loses track of how many times he tells you he loves you—he does it when he pulls you into his chest, when his lips press against your temple, and when you crack that smile, the one that resembles the very purpose of his existence.

“So this is what it feels like,” his voice sounds low like a murmur near your ear, and you stir, half-asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, baby. I was just thinking aloud.”

You don’t have to talk about it, at least not now. Deep down, he knows that whatever thoughts run through his mind will somehow find their way into yours.

This is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.

And God, is he feeling it.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[letoasai]

The Youngest Ancient

An idea where the JL has gotten word from Green Lantern that a planet has been destroyed. That threat is headed for Earth. 

We could blame it on Darkseid despite the fact that i don’t actually know if that’s within his power set. Bad guy of your choice. Keeping it vague works too. 

Danny finding out that one of his planets is gone and he’s not having it. 

~~

They were short on time. Monumentally short on time. Usually everyone would look to Batman in a situation like this. It wasn’t like his numerous contingency plans were a secret. The problem was time and an overall lack of information about the coming threat. All that was clear was the fact that Earth was in danger. 

Not even a normal, run of the mill danger, but the planet bleeding out of existence kind of danger. Supposedly it could happen so fast that the citizens of Earth wouldn’t even know it had happened. 

“There’s always begging an Ancient for help.” Constantine muttered, lighting another cigarette. As many members of the League as possible had gathered but brainstorming could only get them so far. 

Multiple gazes snapped to him but it was Wonder Woman who spoke first. “You think petitioning the gods would be a wise course of action?” 

“Could be the only course of action.” Flash muttered though no one looked happy about it. 

“Nah, it’s a much crazier idea than that.” Constantine said flatly. “We’re not talking about any of those old hats we’re used to dealing with. I mean an Ancient. Their powers are next level stuff. Above the gods on the totem pole, if you will.” 

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “You want to bring in a complete unknown.” 

“I want the planet to fucking be in the same spot tomorrow, mate.” Constantine snapped back. They were out of time but he evidently had more practice at being reckless then the rest of the League. “Heard tales of a new baby Ancient. A likable kid that has many of the heavy hitters doting on `em. Word is the baby Ancient is rather agreeable. Makes deals. Likes to explore. That kind of thing.” 

“Baby Ancient.” Superman repeated, clearly hearing the oxymoron in that title. “How does that work?”

“Well they gotta come from somewhere, don’t they?” Constantine shrugged. He didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask. 

“I’ve heard the same rumors.” Zatanna heaved a sigh, adding credence to Constantine’s claims. “Even if they can’t do anything themself, they might have enough pull with one of the other Ancients that can.” 

Flash clucked his tongue. “We literally have everything to lose if we don’t do something. If no one else has any other ideas then we need to give it a shot.” 

“How long do you need to prepare?” Batman asked, his frown obvious. He never fully liked ideas that he didn’t have a hand in.

Constantine sat up straighter, taking a pull from his cigarette and already looking exhausted. “Gimme an hour.” 

“I’ll help.” Zatanna said, already standing. 

“Forty minutes then.” 

~

The light of the summoning circle was hard to look at. It was like a mini supernova right in front of them. The colors would have been amazing to look at if anyone could have opened their eyes to see it. 

When it dimmed, leaving only a toxic looking green glow around the circle, a young boy floated in the center. His hair was white and flowed even in the tightly air controlled Watch tower. The freckles across his face seemed to glow just like his green eyes. 

He was cute, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. He wore a skintight black suit, calf high white boots, and had a strange looking thermos hanging off his belt. So this was a baby Ancient. He looked utterly perplexed. 

“Um…” He blinked, taking in every member of the Justice League slowly.

“Welcome to the Justice League Watch Tower.” Wonder Woman said, ever the diplomat. “We apologize for summoning you on such short notice.” 

“Oh. Okay.” He was still blinking owlishly before his eyes locked onto one of the windows that currently had a vast view of space. The boy all but purred at the sight. “You can call me Phantom. What do you want?” 

“You’re the new Ancient?” Constantine asked without as much tacked.

Phantom sighed, shifting to sit even as he floated. “So they tell me. I didn’t know there was going to be a superhero test.” 

“We summoned you to request assistance if you are able to give it.” Batman said, taking over. “A threat is coming to destroy the Earth and we don’t have much time. Is there something in particular you would want in payment?” 

“Besides souls.” Constantine muttered which subtly alarmed everyone within earshot. 

“Destroy…Earth?” Phantom repeated slowly, head tilting. It was slowly occurring to everyone that maybe a baby Ancient really was too young to deal with something like this. “Why?”

Green Lantern sighed, arms crossed. “I’m likely the cause. Earth is the home base for Lanterns in this sector. The previous planet destroyed was also a home base.” 

Phantom’s eyes jerked up, his full attention on Green Lantern. “Previous planet destroyed? Where?” He paused, “And when? I have been feeling a little off.” 

No one knew quite what to make of the strange comment, but Lantern continued anyway. “A planet in the neighboring sector, 2813. It has been eight days, and before long, that threat will be here.” 

“Is it possible you know of a way to prevent the destruction of Earth?” Wonder Woman asked, but Phantom seemed distracted. 

He removed his gloves and was looking at the back of his hands. When that didn’t seem to tell him what he wanted, he tugged on his sleeve, making the fabric go invisible in small sections so he could easily look at his skin beneath it without the cumbersome task of rolling his sleeves up. 

He was covered in glowing freckles, just like on his face, but one by one the League members took notice of the way they moved. Phantom would twist his arm one way and then another and each set of freckles would be replaced by a completely new set of glowing little spots. When that didn’t show him what he wanted, he kept looking, checking both arms first before moving down his chest slowly. 

The League could do nothing but watch the strangeness before them as their follow up questions went ignored. 

When he got to a spot under his ribs, Phantom screeched. “It’s gone!” 

“Phantom…?” 

Phantom looked out the Watch Tower window, his face morphing into one of fury. His eyes shined brightly and whatever he was looking for, he clearly found. 

“T̢̜̞̮ͭ̓ͫͦh̨̻̼͓͓̜ͭ̈͆ȃ̴̩ͅtͯ̚͏͇̮̖̙ ̡̭͎̝̟͇͙̏ͣ̑͛m̵̭͉͈̳̟͎͈̲̋̋o͈̮̫͓̪͔͐͠t͉̬̉͒̈́ͪ͠h͉̠̭͓̞͎̺͓ͥͥ͘e̅͗̔̿҉̞̪̺̮̗̜r͙̪̼͈̐̉͞ ̫̥̳̿̾͒͑͞f͔̟͈͍ͯ̊̏́ù̶̯̬̫͈͕c̲ͣ̓̿͠ͅk̦̘̖̭͕͉̹̥̈̍̈́ͤ͘e͚̬͗͡ͅr̛̤̩̺͂̃̇̉ͅ.”

To say the Justice League was surprised by the shift in the boys tone was an understatement. 

“Yeah, i’ll stop your threat.” Phantom growled, easily leaving the summoning circle. He shifted right through the wall and directly into space without a care. 

Silence filled the room, no one entirely sure what they’d done by summoning a baby Ancient. “So that happened.” Flash commented. “Are we still planning for doomsday?” 

“We’ll see…” Constantine muttered. “Though if that kid gets hurt, might be bad for the universe.” 

“Not what we wanted to hear, John.” Wonder Woman said, looking out the window. Nothing looked unusual to her. 

~

In an hour's time, Phantom returned just as distracted as he’d been when he’d left. He remained seated in the air as he held what looked like a cracked marble in his hands. It was surrounded by a mist, and inside sparked with many different colors. 

Phantom seemed to be sealing the crack, a smile on his face. 

Batman was the one to approach, and if he was anxious it was hard to tell. “Phantom.” He greeted cautiously. “You’re back.”

“Uh huh.” Phantom said, eyes glittering happily at the marble. “I got rid of your problem. Earth is safe.” 

“Got…rid of.” Batman repeated slowly, a tinge of disbelief in his voice. 

“So we’re good?” Flash asked. “Good work, kid.” 

“Yeah, he deserved it.” Phantom said, finally cradling the smooth marble in his palm. 

Constantine was still smoking, but his eyes were narrowed. “Do i wanna know what you’re doin’?”

Phantom beamed. “I got my planet back! It was a little broken but i fixed it.” 

“Your planet?” Green Lantern repeated, adrenaline hitting him. “The destroyed planet!?” 

“Yep.” Phantom looked pleased with himself. “Now i just gotta set it back in time eight days to get everyone back on track and i can put it back where it belongs.” 

“Put it…back.” Batman seemed to have trouble with the skill set of one teenager.” 

It was Superman who slid closer with a disarmingly charming smile. “May i ask what kind of Ancient you are. I admit i don’t know much about them.” 

Phantom perked up. “I’m the Ancient of Space!” He ignored Constantine’s groan from across the room. “I’m really glad you guys called me about this! It would have taken me a while to find a planet destroyed out of the natural timeline.” 

“And you have time abilities?” Wonder Woman asked softly. Time and Space was a heady combination. 

“Nope! But Clockwork does.” Phantom said. “He’ll do it for me.” 

“Will he?” The Flash stared. 

Phantom didn’t seem to notice the incredulous looks. As far as he was concerned, everyone was simply taking his explanations in stride. Tilting his head back his eyes shimmered with power. “Clockwork!” he called, voice reverberating oddly. No one missed Zatanna paling or Constantine cursing. No one had time to ask either before a tear appeared just to the right of Phantom. It split the very air apart in a green haze before a portal opened and a man floated out. Wrapped in a purple cloak, the man floated like Phantom did but had a ghostly tail instead of legs and off putting red eyes. 

He had a staff donned with clock gears and mechanisms that ticked in an unsettling way. No one needed an explanation, which was good because Constantine wasn’t going to give one. 

This was the Ancient of Time. They had two Ancients in the Watch Tower. 

Phantom didn’t seem bothered and held out his marble with a smile. “Fix!” he asked cheerfully. 

Clockwork turned from what appeared to be an adult man to an elderly man in the blink of an eye. “You know time is sensitive, Phantom. Not everything can be changed on a whim." 

Phantom’s smile lessened. He looked back and forth from Clockwork to the marble and back to Clockwork again. “I’ll cry. Swear to the Ancients, i’ll start crying.” 

The elderly Clockwork shifted back into the form of a young man. “Do you think tears will alter the timeline?” 

Batman smiled, almost. He knew a mischievous teen trying to get his way when he saw one. That theory proved correct when Phantom honestly did begin to sniffle, eyes becoming damp. 

“An asshole destroyed a piece of me.” Phantom said, lips wobbling. “I felt it. I didn’t feel good.” 

Clockwork’s form shifted again, this time into the form of a young child. He heaved a sigh, “If you start weeping you’ll summon the others.” 

Phantom nearly whimpered, holding out the marble still. Every member of the Justice League watched with bated breath. 

Clockwork crossed his arms. “How far back do you want it?” 

“Yay!” Phantom beamed immediately, impressing upon how young he must have been. “Eight days! Actually, maybe nine. That might be better for them. I’m sure the…Green Lantern…people… can explain that they lost little more than a week in order to be brought back. That’ll be fine, right?” 

Green Lantern was too stunned by the question to answer but it was fine since it seemed to be rhetorical coming from the young Ancient. 

Clockwork turned back into an adult and held his staff out over the marble Phantom held. There was no discernible change other than the hands on the staff’s clock face moving. Phantom was nearly bouncing in place which was interesting to see considering his feet weren’t on the floor. 

“Thank you, Clockwork!” Phantom said, looking delighted and completely missing the way Clockwork just sighed fondly. 

“Hurry along home before the yeti’s start to look for you.” Clockwork said in a fairly familiar tone. 

“Yes, yes.” Phantom said distractedly, tossing the marble up in the air where it disappeared. He tugged at his black suit right over his ribs and did the same invisibility trick again. He shifted twice until he found the patch of skin that held the group of freckles he wanted. 

No one was close enough to see for themselves, but Phantom crowed happily. “Good! It’s back where it’s supposed to be!” 

“It’s back?” Batman asked, a hint in his voice saying he had a hundred more questions. 

“Yep.” Phantom said. “It’s really annoying to me when someone destroys one of my stars or planets before their natural life cycles have worn out.” 

“Is that a map of the galaxy on your skin?” Wonder Woman asked, charmed by the constellation of freckles across his nose and under his pointed ears. 

“No.” Phantom said. “It’s a map of every universe on my skin. They overlap so sometimes i gotta hunt for the one i want a little.” 

“Every…” Superman sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him. 

“Come, Your Majesty.” Clockwork said, opening a shockingly green portal with his staff. “You’ve had your fun.” 

“Okay, okay.” Phantom mumbled. 

“Majesty?” Zatanna whispered, confusion coloring her tone. 

Phantom whipped back around to look at her with a sheepish grin. “Ah, yeah. I’m the King of the infinite Realm. Let me know if anyone else messes with one of my planets! Bye now.” 

The Ancients departed and Constantine started wheezing. 

“I take it no one knew the baby Ancient was a king?” Flash asked, a very startled silence taking over the Watch Tower. 

~~

I know i originally said that the planet had been destroyed but that somehow turned into it being eaten or absorbed or something so Danny got it back. 

I really just wanted Danny to find a missing planet on his skin and freaking out over it. 

Feel free to take this idea, though i’m sure something like it exists already. ^__^

Master List

[snowsinterlude]

need someone older.

(teacher!coriolanus × student!reader.)

summary: a teacher can do a lot in private lessons.

c.w: reader is 19 for repeating a year, age gap (coryo's 29), fingering, tummy bulge, heavy smut, edging (f. recieving), overstimulation, stuffed panties, mild public sex, petnames (coryo calls reader bunny, pet, good girl.), reader thinks coryo is married so . cheating implications, marriage proposal

being a dumb girl was something you tried your best to do ever since you repeated the first year of high school, watching all your friends graduating before you was something you weren't proud about- not for them, but for you. you were supposed to be by their side.

thankfully, you had your professor, coriolanus snow. god. he was the only reason for you to pay attention to class (or at least try to), you were hungry for his approval. for you to be called a "good girl", and be said that you've done well in your tests? yeah, you were willing to do anything for that.

when he offered you private classes, you said yeah without even thinking much. you needed to learn, and spending more time with him was something you craved for. the ring on his finger? fuck it. you wanted it. you deserved it. more than his wife – if he had one.

you've been day dreaming about it constantly, eyes always searching for his on every class you had with him, and he would keep that smile painted on his face, not wanting anyone to think you were the reason for him to be smiling, even if you were, the didn't need to know about it.

"bunny," he voiced, leaning on your desk and taking advantage of the fact that you both were on the library, every student on the school had gone home and the teachers had gathered to go to a nearby bar. "stop looking at my dick now, will we?" he said, chuckling at you.

"huh?" you asked, finally waking to your reality.

"you need to learn that if you don't want to repeat a grade again." he said, sitting by your side, his hand holding your thigh. "you don't want to repeat now, do you?" you shaked your head negatively, and he loved seeing you like that, shy as a kitten even if you usually had his dick on your mouth when that used to happen. "c'mon, don't look at me like that. we have to put these things on your brain if you want to graduate already." he said.

his fingers slowly travelled all the way up on your panties, finding a small damp on the fabric, he looked at you with his usual smirk, his pupils blown already from everything he was about to do to you.

and now you looked like a mess. hands gripping on the library desk as your legs trembled with the aftermath of every time you almost came. you counted six till now, crying from how good it felt having him behind you, his fingers thrusting lewdly into your cunt.

"c-coryo- t-teacher, please. please stop it, i have to cum- i can't hold it in anymore!" you begged, clenching as his fingers rubbed deliciously on your clit after thrusting so many times inside you.

"well, it's not my fault, pet. you're the one getting your questions wrong." he said, pulling his dick to tease the core of your pussy, your cries only making him feel and making his ego bigger. "tell me, baby, how do you want it?"

"q-quick, pleease! if it get slower i-i think i'll die!" you said, legs spread as your skirt revealed a small part of your ass.

"oh, c'mon, i'm sure you can take it, baby" he purred in your ear, the tip of his cock teasing your pussy and slapping your clit slightly, making your body jolt slightly. you bend over, your elbows being now your main support at that table.

"please, teacher..!" you begged. but he didn’t even bat an eye to your cries, slowly sliding his dick inside you, and fuck, you both fucked on wednesday, how come he always seems to stretch you up so good? the pace he choose to torture you with was so slow, making sure you felt every inch of his dick inside you, stretching you, making you his. "please, don't do that to me. j-just ask something easier!" you cried.

"easier? okay... let's see" his hips bucked slowly into yours, your pussy gushing around him as if your own body needed that- as if he was the hair you breathed for. "what's your age, babe?" he asked, a playful tone being cast as his free hand massaged your boob, pinching on your nipple and freeing both your boobs from it's cage.

"n-nineteen." you said, and he laughed again as he said: "good girl, you're right.", his hips giving you a powerful thrust that made you cum with only that, making you cry from your own humiliation.

"ah, bunny, don't tell me you came already only with that." he said, joking with your face as you cried.

"i'm sorry- too good. i-it was too deep." he laughed, pulling back and thrusting deeper again, this time, you made sure not to cum again, edging yourself as he changed your position to put your leg over his broad shoulder, his dick making a bulge appear at your tummy. he loved that view- much more than he loved you.

"look at you, taking me so well. how does it feel, baby? use one of the words we learned at the literature class," he grunted your tightness coating his dick with your own juices, "use them, even if it's just two, and i'll let you cum."

"tortuous," you begin, crying from how good it felt, from how dumb you were getting. "spiralling, it's twirling my insides!" you cried. and he smilled, kissing and licking your tears before placing the most gentle kiss on your lips, pouding faster into you as you closed your eyes shut, moaning and grunting from all the pleasure- and yet you tried your best to avoid moaning only to hear his moans and the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

"good girl." he said, his hands holding your hips as he fucked you. it felt truly out of your world experience. his phone ringed just at the right moment he hit your cervix. "t-teacher, your phone- it can be your wife." you said, earning a frown from him as he turned the phone off.

"wife? baby, i'm single." he said, chuckling at you. "you've been walking around school with my cum stuffed in your panties even thought you thought i was married?" he pounded into you with a more quicken pace. "god, what a dirty girl you are. fucking around with married teachers." he teased you.

you felt a heat on your cheeks that you never felt before. god, how much would you end up humiliating yourself? "b-but, fuck! y-your ring-"

he showed you the ring. taking it off his finger with his mouth and sticking his tongue to you, an invitation for you to take the ring.

"keep it." he said once you took the ring

"but- s-sir, i-"

"mm, bunny, i'm a faithful man." he said. "and right now, i'm faithful to you." he said. you squirmed deliciously at the feeling of his cock filling you up again, his tip on your cervix as you came again, and soon enough, he came too.

he helped you get dressed into your panties again and straightned your clothes, a cast kiss on your lips before he smiled sweetly at you, putting the ring on your middle finger.

"i hope you know what that means."

"i-i do." you said, for both questions heavily implied in that context.

"great. then make sure to graduate, bunny." he smiled. "i'm sure the honeymoon will be great."

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ it's a gift (you keep those) ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ giving him a plushie that reminded you of him┊1k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, crushes, probably ooc but he’s so cute & wade is hard to write for, written for dp&w logan so idk if he got gifts in xmen, i forgot about laura, they are in touch and have a wonderful father-daughter relationship, i’m so sorry, edited

➤ author's note: i have so many thoughts but too incompetent to write

logan’s never sure who will appear when he opens the door as wade’s quite the extrovert, either vanessa or one of his many other friends whom he’s now become somewhat acquainted with, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet the familiar eyes of the cute neighbor who lived a few doors down. he nervously scratched the back of his head, suddenly becoming aware of his shabby appearance, “uh, are you looking for wade?”

“no, i was actually looking for you!” god, your smile is so bright, it’s blinding. he normally hates perfume of any sort as it’s so overpowering to his heightened senses, but the one that you wore smelled so lovely like always. is that a new shade of lip gloss you’re wearing? it really suits you. (why on earth is he noticing all of these details out of the blue? he needs to snap out of whatever spell you put on him after being introduced when he first showed up and only interacting in passing since then).

“looking for me?” he repeated, in disbelief, trying his best not to allow his surprise to slip into his voice. considering he isn’t from this dimension and not the most agreeable person to be around, he had no friends of his own yet and hasn’t been visited by anyone since he got here. a beat of panic struck him, thinking that he was in trouble for something and you came to complain. he really couldn’t think of any other reason you were here for him even though you were so cheerful.

you were carrying some shopping bags with you, dropping them on the ground before reaching into one and pulling out a large fuzzy plushie of a gray cat hidden under layers of glittery tissue paper, “i saw this cutie when i went shopping with my friends and thought it looked like you!” you held it out for him to take, looking so proud of the stuffed animal.

he hesitated for a second before accepting it, trying to take in the fact that you were reminded of him in your day-to-day life. it made his heart flutter, and he found himself dumbfounded by the feeling. he was frequently teased by his roomate about his little “crush” on you, claiming that it was oh so obvious and that the sooner he accepted it, the better, but he never realized until now how pathetic he was when it came to you. was the wolverine really getting butterflies like a fucking schoolgirl in his old-ass age? thank god no one was home right now to bully him about it, he would never hear the end of it.

“it does not look like me,” he scoffed playfully after a quick examination.

“no, it definitely does! it’s a big, grumpy kitty—” you took a step closer to hold it with him, pointing at all the similarities you observed, although it was clear you were exaggerating for laughs. “see the little frowny face and ears? it could be your identical twin separated from birth! willy mentioned that you act like a cat most of the time, and i think it fits perfectly!”

the smile he didn’t realize was plastered on his face faltered at the last piece of information, grateful that you didn’t notice. that idiot has been talking about him to you? he might as well forget about any chance of getting with you, because knowing how he yaps without a filter and loves to play matchmaker, you probably think he’s a freak of some sort. “only good things, i hope…”

you giggled, the sweetest sound he ever heard. “of course, he’s really fond of you… well, maybe a bit too fond, but you already know about that!” you opened your mouth to continue the conversation or say something else, but your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, looking a little shy as you grabbed up your bags. “i’ll talk to you later!” you sounded so excited about the prospect of it before leaving, your voice and footsteps becoming fainter as you walked back to your place.

“wait, you didn’t take back the cat—”

“it’s a gift! you keep those!”

“oh… right…”

he lingered for a moment, unable to say much in response since you left in such a rush. when was the last time someone gave him a present? staring at this brand new item, he still couldn’t see the resemblance in any way, but knowing that it was a gift from you gave him a rare feeling of happiness which returned every time he looked at it from then on among his few possessions. 

“oh my goodness, what is this adorable thing?!” wade exclaimed when he saw it sitting on the couch where logan slept, picking it up to gawk at before tossing it up in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. “ooh, let me guess, it’s a gift from her, isn’t it?” 

the mutant groaned at his mocking tone. “put it down before you ruin it with your grubby hands,” he commanded, snatching it from his grasp (rough enough to make his point clear, but carefully enough not to tear it apart). his roommate didn’t even bother pretending to be offended like he usually would as he was simply overjoyed that his “ship” was coming true. “it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make it weird.”

“it doesn’t mean anything?! how can you say that when it’s going to be the first gift you give to your first child together—”

“first what??”

“nevermind, what are you gonna name it?”

“i have to name it?”

“have you never owned a stuffed animal before? you have to name it! how heartbroken is she going to be when she asks what you named it and you say that you haven’t done that?! she’s gonna think that you don’t value her gifts!” you would think the world was going to end if he didn’t do so if you heard the way he was speaking.

“fine, i’ll name it…” he looked deeply into the toy’s soulless eyes, noting how soft the outer material was against his calloused hand, “... fluffy…”

“that’s such a shitty name—”

“shut the fuck up, it’s been decided.”

[xxsabitoxx]

Breed | Kinktober

Satoru x AFAB Reader + Higher Up Suguru

Warnings: Mild dub-con, fucking with the intent of getting pregnant, creampies, pussy eating, voyeurism, drunk sex, use of pet name "princess", Satoru talking you through it, Satoru having a big ass cock ngl hehe, biting

A/N: Day 4... I got really carried away. Lordy lordy... enjoy

WORD COUNT: 6.2K

You swore you didn’t hear him right, your eyebrow cocking upwards as you opened your mouth to say something but Satoru beat you to it. “You want us to do what?” he sounded just as lost as you, face twisted in a grimace as he hoped his best friend would say it was nothing more than a sick joke. “I want the two of you to breed.” Suguru repeated with his easy going smile, eyes shifting between the two very concerned faces before him. 

Ever since becoming a higher up in the Jujutsu world, Suguru had started to change. 

“You… you’re joking, right?” You laughed a bit, eyes shifting to the white-haired man beside you to try and see how he was taking it. Sure enough, Satoru looked completely confused, blue eyes scanning his best friend’s face for some kind of inkling that this was all a prank. “I’m not joking, quite the contrary, I’m dead serious.” Still though, he was smiling, completely unphased. “Yeah, bull shit… I don’t know why you’d think it’s okay to make such a–”

“The higher ups and I have been discussing things. Since the two of you are undoubtedly the strongest of our generation, we want you two to produce children. We want to know if you’ll create sorcerers just as strong, if not stronger than the two of you.” You felt yourself stiffen, immediately off put that he had totally interrupted you to spout the most foul shit you’d ever heard. “We aren’t some fucking experiment.” Satoru stated blandly, arms coming up to splay across the back of the couch you two were sitting on. Suguru still seemed unphased. 

“I don’t see why you two wouldn’t accept the offer.” You gasped, feeling Satoru stiffen beside you as Suguru said such blatantly ignorant shit. “Why wouldn't we accept? We aren’t even a couple! Never mind the fact that you want him to breed me like I’m some bitch in heat?!” you practically screeched, still partially believing this was a sick joke. Suguru’s smile faltered a little now, a crack in his facade that sent a shiver straight down your spine. “You two would be wise to accept the offer. I’m giving you a choice. The rest of the higher ups would not.” 

“You’re not giving us a choice.” You immediately countered, mildly aware that Satoru’s arm was lowering a bit, as if to wrap around you protectively. “Oh but I am, dear y/n.” His hands clasped in front of him, that smile creeping back up his face as his eyes shut. You both shared a glance, eyes returning to Suguru as he exhaled and opened his eyes again. “Either the two of you fuck and let me watch, or the higher ups will sit in and watch you instead. I’m giving you the choice to do this comfortably or do this in front of many watching eyes.”

“I decline both options.” Satoru said with an air of annoyance, not willing to subject you to anything you didn’t want. “That is not an option, Satoru.” Suguru immediately countered, eyes shifting over to you. “Really what is the harm in this? You two can have some fun and then go on with your lives.” Suguru tried again, not grasping how this was a huge deal. “You want me to get her pregnant, Suguru. That is not something you can just move on from.” You remained quiet, still reeling from the fact that Suguru was dead serious. “Not only that but you are looking me dead in the eye and telling me this hypothetical child would be at the whim of the higher ups.”

Suguru knew how strongly Satoru felt about this matter, he had since their high school days. For the man across from you to be so blindly devoted to this inhumane experiment, he must have been brainwashed. “Suguru… did they threaten you or something?” Your voice was a little weaker now, Suguru may think the two of you only have two options, but you knew Satoru well enough to know a third. If it came down to life or death, Satoru would choose death. Not of you or himself, but of the hierarchy in the Jujutsu world. You were both strong enough to do it. 

“Not at all, dear y/n. I just think this would be highly beneficial for not only the two of you but the rest of the jujutsu society. The Gojo clan needs an heir, if you two were to produce a child, it would bind both the Y/L/N clan and Gojo clan together. It would be utterly unstoppable with the two of you at their heads, a perfect child to take the reins when that time comes…” Satoru made a fake gagging sound, lifting his blindfold with one finger to look at Suguru. “Don’t tell me you really believe all that bull shit they’ve been feeding you.” Suguru’s calm aura faded completely at that, smile dropping from his face as his eyes became cold. 

“Either we do it the easy way or the hard way. You fuck each other, or they’ll force it upon you. I, as your friend, implore you two to take the easy route. I mean really, even if she doesn’t get pregnant, at least you’ll have had a good time, no?” That clicked something in your mind, body straightening a bit as you mulled his words over in your mind. “I’m not going to fuck someone who isn’t willing, Suguru.” Satoru sounded completely uninterested now, letting the blindfold snap back into place as you sat up a little more. “Satoru…” you started, turning your body to face him. His head snapped in your direction, the tone of your voice was different. 

Knowing he could still see you with the blindfold on, you turned your body and pressed yourself a little closer. Carefully, you brought your lips to his ear, using one hand to hide your mouth so Suguru couldn’t read your lips. “Why don’t we just play along, Satoru?” You swallowed, face feeling a bit warm as you settled again so he could reply. Much to your surprise, he turned his body so he could lean and whisper against your ear. You half expected him to just blurt his answer out. You held your breath as Satoru’s breath ghosted your ear, large hand easily blocking his face from Suguru’s view. “I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.” 

You sigh, letting him move away so you can press your lips to his ear again. “I’m fine with it, we can have fun with each other, can’t we?” you pulled away, shrugging your shoulders to say the decision was his. Satoru huffed out a laugh, one arm still draped over the back of the couch as he used the other to pull at his blindfold again. “Suguru, name a time and a place. We’ll entertain your request.” Your heart skipped, trying to remain composed as Suguru gave the two of you a sly smirk. “I’m glad you’ve made the right choice, we have a few things to discuss before we decide those main factors I’m afraid.” Still, he seemed thrilled at the thought. 

“Then discuss them now, Suguru. If we are doing this, you need to act fast before we change our mind.” you appreciated that Satoru was now speaking for the both of you. It was giving you time to properly sort out your thoughts. “No need for such hostility, Satoru. I just want to figure out when the best time is for dear y/n. After all, she needs to be ovulating when you do this.” You stifled your shudder, you weren’t fond of being discussed like some dog that was about to be bred for his own personal gain. “I’m due to get my period in about two weeks time.” 

You were lying, your cycle had just passed. But you knew if you told him you were currently in your ovulation period, the sooner this could be done and over with. “Well would you look at that, I came to you at the right time.” Suguru smiled, clearly he had done a little research beforehand. Beside you, Satoru was visibly confused, clearly having no understanding of a woman’s cycle. Not that you really expected him to in the first place, but you had to admit it was a bit amusing. “If that is the case, Suguru. Why don’t we get this over with, here and now?” you drawled, falling back into the couch and subsequently, Satoru’s arm. 

“That works for me, does it work for you, Satoru?” You and Suguru were both looking at him now, a sigh leaving his plump lips before speaking. “Yeah, works for me.” Somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn’t quite believe you were willing to do this, especially after being so adamant about not wanting to. Something Suguru had said clearly convinced you, though he couldn’t be quite sure. “That settles it then, I’ll treat the two of you to drinks for accepting my offer.” You snorted, pushing yourself up and off the couch. “I expect a lot more than drinks, Suguru.” you patted your skirt, flattening any wrinkles that had formed while sitting. 

“Dinner and sweets!” Satoru added, standing to his full height and stretching dramatically. “What he said, Suguru. You owe us big time.” You crossed your arms, watching your long time friend look between the two of you before heaving a sigh. “Alright, fine. Dinner, drinks and sweets.” Satoru cheered triumphantly, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you headed out the door. “Only one drink for Satoru though, he’s a lightweight and needs to perform.” you couldn’t help but snicker, Satoru’s face turning a shade of red as he yelled at Suguru for saying such things. 

“It’s the truth and you know it, Satoru.” was all you managed, trying your best to keep up with the pace his lengthy legs set. “Who’s side are you on?!” he pulled you a little closer, nearly crushing you to his side. “I guess I should be on yours, shouldn’t I?” you teased, trying to ignore the new found flurry in your heart when you talked to him. But part of you couldn’t help but wonder, did he feel it too. Of course you would let your emotions start to toy with your mind, knowing full and well what would happen within a few hours time. 

—

“S-shit… oh fuck…” Satoru choked out, blindfold pushed back and sitting on his head like a headband. Your teeth were sinking into the junction between his neck and shoulder, making his hips jerk up against yours. Suguru had cut Satoru off after one drink, the white-hair man getting more than tipsy off of it because of his low tolerance. You, on the other hand, had been three drinks in when Suguru cut you off. Having a better tolerance than Satoru did not equate to you being any less sloppy. Suguru was quickly learning that, eyes wide as he watched the two of you make out on the couch within the hotel room he had rented for the night. 

You hadn’t even made it to the bed, your hands all over each other the moment he swiped the card and the door unlocked. Needless to say, Suguru didn’t think he would be in for such a ride. “E-easy! Fuck… y/n please!” Satoru whimpered, fingers digging into the flesh on your hips as you bit a little harder. You wanted to taste blood, desperate to leave a permanent mark on the man below you. Though, even in your intoxicated state you still had a heart. You eased up, lapping at the indents on his skin to try and soothe the damage. Satoru’s hips were restless, bucking into yours every few seconds. Each time your clothed cunt met his covered erection, a wave of molten heat spread through your already too hot body. 

Behind the two of you, Suguru was getting comfortable in the plush chair that sat in the corner of the room. He had only consumed one drink, a buzz settling under his skin but not impairing him enough to let you two have free reign. “Don’t you dare waste a drop of his cum, if you’re going to grind on each other like horny teenagers, at least strip.” You audibly whined, looking over your shoulder to glare at Suguru. Though it wasn’t threatening at all, you looked like a child trying to intimidate an adult. “You heard me.” was all Suguru responded with, his tone demeaning as your face flushed. Satoru took your distraction as the perfect opportunity

You gasped, body falling forward against his as his fingers dug into your thighs. Hauling you up, Satoru made quick work of tossing you on the queen size bed, the white sheets quickly crumpling as you fell onto it. “You heard him, strip.” Satoru’s voice was mocking, and yet he was quickly undoing the top half of his uniform. You rolled your eyes, clearly disgruntled by your dominance being stripped from you. But you couldn’t complain, your skin was prickling with sweat, your own uniform sticking to you uncomfortably. Your fingers fumbled a bit as you undid your top, shouldering it off after a moment with Satoru’s eyes glued to you. 

“You need help?” he breathed out, looking at the fabric of your bra hugging your breasts perfectly. “No, I’m fine…” always stubborn, you undid the button on your wrist and yanked your arm out, repeating the motion on your other arm with a little struggle. “Done yet?” Satoru’s knee sunk into the mattress, hands coming down to press into the linen as he waited for your “okay” to crawl on top of you. “Yeah, done.” you groaned, tossing the white button up at Suguru who managed to catch it. Maybe your reflexes really were slowing down from the booze. Satoru sighed, crawling fully onto the mattress and connecting his lips with yours. 

Your hands came up to wrap around the back of his neck, legs spreading to accommodate him as you slowly laid back. You had to groan into the kiss, Satoru’s teeth grazing your lower lip for entrance only made you feel more defiant. You were slightly pissed he had moved so fast, you hadn’t even gotten the change to admire his toned torso. Which was something you had been most looking forward to, you knew the man was built but he was always hiding it under his uniform or baggy clothing. One of Satoru’s hands was splayed by your head, supporting him so he didn’t crush you under his weight. The other hand was cupping your cheek, trying to coax your stubborn jaw open for him. Still, you were managing to resist. 

“Such a tease, y/n.” Suguru cooed from his spot, hand shamelessly adjusting his half-hard cock. Of course he’d enjoy this, how could he not? Satoru pulled away, gasping as you stared up at him. “She is, won’t open that pretty mouth for me… so cruel.” he whined, cheeks flushed pink as he dipped his head lower to return the favor you had paid him earlier. This time, it was your turn to gasp, fingers digging into the back of his neck since there was no hair to grab… curse him and his undercut. Satoru’s teeth were sinking into the same point on your body, making a mark that would match the already bruising bite you left behind on him. “F-fuck! Satoru!” 

Your eyes shut, the warm pain blooming on your neck was only making the throb between your legs worsen. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be a masochist and a sadist at the same time.” Suguru mused, watching your eyes open slowly, head turning to glare at him. Still, he only smirked, fist pressed into his cheek as his other hand now began palming himself. You looked away, skin vibrating with the realization that Suguru was also getting off on this. “Satoru… ease up!” you whined after a moment, the feeling nearly dizzying as he finally released the skin he had clamped down on. Perfect teeth indents were left behind, the slight swell of blood appearing in some of them. He swallowed, throat dry at the sight. 

“So pretty…” he murmured, head lowering to lap at the mark before trailing his lips up your neck and jaw. “Let me taste you this time, please?” you nodded, dazed as he slotted his lips over yours once more. You were a little easier on him now, mouth opening to accommodate his eager tongue. You shivered as you tasted the slight metallic blood mixing with the fruity cocktail he had consumed earlier. You were envious, he had managed to break your skin but you hadn’t been able to break his. No fair! Your fingers scratched at his skin the more you thought about it, pressing your head into the mattress to create a little distance so you could catch your breath.

“Please…” you gasped out, unsure of what you were asking him for. Yet, he seemed to understand perfectly. Satoru placed one last kiss to your slightly swollen lips before his head dipped lower. Carefully, he kissed down your neck to your chest, burying his face in your sternum, cradled by your breasts. “Can I take this off of you?” He asked even though he knew the answer was yes, still you nodded. Satoru’s hand slipped around your back, the other still supporting himself. You helped by rolling over a bit, allowing him to nimbly undo the clasp of your bra. He tugged it off of you, holding in a shaky breath as he admired your bare skin. Your nipples were pebbling under the cool air of the room, making your cheeks feel warm as Satoru clearly observed them. 

No words were spoken as his head lowered again, tongue running along the valley between your breasts before making the decision to go left. You tried to suppress your noises as his nose dragged along your skin, his tongue leaving a wet trail as he lapped around the pliant skin. He made a point to avoid your nipple, wanting to tease you until you were squirming. You sunk your teeth into the side of your cheek, not willing to give in so easily, still annoyed you were being dominated. “C’mon sweetheart, let me hear that pretty voice.” Satoru pulled away enough to speak, chlorine blue eyes shining even in the dim hotel light. You held his gaze for only a moment before looking away, lips wobbling as he returned to sucking bruises on your breast. 

A quiet, barely audible sigh left your lips, and that seemed to be enough for Satoru. A loud gasp slipped out of you as his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flicking across the sensitive bud before he sucked. It was a dizzying feeling, each movement sending a shockwave of pleasure straight down to your cunt. You wanted to feel him, every single inch, that realization tore a moan from your lips as your fingers moved from his neck to thread in his hair. “Satoru… I don’t want to be teased…” You could feel your panties sticking to your cunt as you squirmed, the feeling mildly uncomfortable until you found the right angle. If you moved just right, you could brush against his erection. 

This earned a low groan from Satoru, his teeth grazing your nipple in retaliation. Suguru was still watching, amused as the two of you toyed with one another. “Satoru please!” you cried out again as his teeth actually sunk into the tender flesh, making your eyes water as you tugged on his hair hard enough to pull his head away. The only issue was that he didn't let go, you tugging him away from your chest only caused him to pull at your nipple. A shrill cry left your lips this time, hands immediately letting his hair go as his head lowered to a more tolerable distance. You were panting, your heartbeat racing as Satoru’s free hand moved to cup your other breast. 

He was putting all of his weight on his knees, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the brunt of his weight. “Satoru…” you tried again as he finally let go of your nipple. Still, he didn’t answer you, slim fingers tugging on your other nipple as his eyes focused on yours. You looked completely fucked out already, pupils blown and eyelids heavy as you stared up at him. “Gonna fuck you real good, princess.” Your lips parted at the nickname, not expecting it to have such an effect on you. “Then get to it.” you whined, missing his warmth the moment he straightened. He was towering over you know, giving you a full shot of his muscular torso. 

“Can I take your skirt off?” he asked for your permission yet again, eyes shifting to where his blindfold sat by the pillows. It had slipped off his head when he took his uniform off, but he had the intention of using it for something else later on. “You can, please…” breathless, your hips lifted so he could hook his fingers in the waistband and tug them off of you. Satoru did just as you wanted, pulling your skirt and panties off in one go. You sighed in relief, not at all embarrassed this time when Satoru shamelessly admired your bare cunt. “Pretty.” It was more to himself than you, either way it made you whine. 

“I want to see you, Satoru.” You whined, arms reaching out to try and grab for his waistband. Your hands missed, making you burst into a fit of giggles as you tried to push yourself up. Satoru smirked, undoing his pants with leisure as he looked you over. “You were doing so good at hiding the fact you’re not sober.” He comments, watching you give up and flop back onto the bed with your legs spread around him. He had managed to get his pants off without making a fool of himself. As for his briefs, they were still hugging his hips, straining tightly as his hard-on pressed into the soft material. Behind you, Suguru was chuckling at Satoru’s comment. 

“Yeah, you’re just as bad as she is if you think she was hiding her intoxication.” Still, he was mildly impressed that Satoru had stripped as far as he had without falling over. “Hurry up and pull your cock out.” you groaned, tired of the men’s banter. There was a time and place and it wasn’t now, when your cunt was aching with the desire to be filled up. “Fuck…” Satoru hissed at your words, reaching down to push his briefs, ignoring the way Suguru groaned at your desperation. You swallowed the moment his cock sprang free, slapping up against his abdomen and nearly pulling the air from your lungs. He was big to say the least. Not only that, he was girthy, the kind of girth that would hurt no matter how prepared you were. 

“Damn…” was all you managed to croak, lip trembling a bit as he got his briefs off the rest of the way. Satoru smirked, your reaction stroking his ego in perfect time with his fist stroking his cock. You met his gaze, silently begging him to do something. Satoru took the initiative, grabbing under your knees and pushing you further up into the mattress. “Don’t work, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt…” You wanted to ask what he was about to do, but your answer came seconds later as he lowered himself onto his stomach, half of his body hanging off the bed as he settled between your spread thighs. You tried to suppress the strangled noise that left your throat as Satoru’s nose dragged along your inner thighs, shamelessly inhaling the smell of your arousal. 

“S-satoru!” you squealed, hands coming up to cover your face as he groaned. “You smell so fucking good.” You whined, thighs twitching to close around his head but his hands managed to stop you before you could successfully do it. Your head tilted back, too embarrassed to look down at your body and see Satoru start kissing your inner thighs. Suguru watched with dilated pupils, adjusting himself yet again in order to properly monitor the two of you. If he gave into his desires, who knows what the two of you would do. So instead, he sunk his teeth into the side of his cheek and watched you diligently. “Satoru~” you whined as his tongue licked up your folds, not going any further, just covering them in the slick shine of his saliva. 

Your back arched off the mattress the moment his teeth sunk into the underside of your thigh, pain blossoming under the pressure and earning a shrill cry from your lips. It was so sudden that it was nearly dizzying, earning breathless whimpers as he lapped at the now bruising skin. “Sorry…” though you could tell he wasn’t “… you’re just so biteable.” You wanted to scold him but you were too lost in the sensation of his mouth returning to your cunt, letting them fall open for him with ease to give him the access he desired.  The first time Satoru’s tongue passed over your clit, you were certain stars were dotting your vision. He knew better than to poke and prod anywhere else, focusing every ounce of his attention on the pulsing bud below his tongue. 

You felt your thighs tremble, hands twisting in the sheets as you tried to suppress the surplus of whiny moans that slipped out of you. Satoru’s tongue was just as nimble as his fingers, swiping across the sensitive flesh in rapid succession before his lips wrapped around it. You tugged a little harder, the sheets going taut under your fingers as Satoru sucked on your clit just as he had with your nipple. “Fuck… oh fuck… please… just like that… suck it like t-that…” Somewhere in the back of your mind you were mortified for uttering such things, but you couldn’t help but notice the coil in your abdomen tightening with each syllable you spoke. 

It seemed to have a similar effect on Satoru, the man groaning audibly against your bare cunt as his teeth grazed the tender flesh. “S-satoru!” you stuttered out, stomach tightening as his teeth sent a bolt of electricity straight up your spine. The only give away that he heard you was the way his fingers dug into the soft skin of your thighs. You were already close, too overwhelmed by the sensations Satoru bestowed on you. Satoru could tell by the way your sticky arousal was coating his chin each time he grinded his own face into your cunt. He wanted to suffocate on you, dying by your pussy would easily be the best way to go. 

The thought made his hips buck into nothing, mind drowning in the thoughts of shoving his cock into you and doing just as he so boldly refused only a few hours earlier… pumping you full of his cum so you would bear his child. He wanted to utter the filthiest things to you but he knew if he paused for even a moment, that sweet relief you were clearly craving would fizzle away and you’d be back at square one. And at this point, anything that further delayed him delving into your warm cunt felt like pure torture. One of your hands managed to uncurl itself from the hotel sheets, reaching down to instead thread through Satoru’s silky soft white strands. 

You tugged, albeit a little harder than you probably intended, and smothered his face even harder into your cunt. Satoru audibly whimpered at the pain of your tugging, only sending your stomach into a summersault as your orgasm dangled dangerously in front of you. “Satoru please!” you wailed, head tossing back again to make contact with a clearly turned on Suguru. “Go on, Satoru, you heard her, make her cum.” he encouraged with a shaky voice, his tone a lot more wobbly than it had been all night. That made you moan even louder, knowing how visibly turned on he was by this whole thing… and to think you had been so against it at first. 

Satoru grumbled something but it was muffled by your cunt, sending vibrations straight through your core. It didn’t take much more than that, his tongue licking so eagerly at your clit had you spilling all over his face. Your ears ring with the force of your orgasm, Satoru’s touches turning light enough to work you through it without overstimulating you. As much as Satoru wanted to lap up every ounce of your release, he knew he needed you to be sloppy to be able to take him. So, reluctantly, after a few chaste kisses to your now puffy clit, he pulled away. “Do you need a break?” he spoke with a slight pant, face flushed and shiny from his own sweat and your arousal. 

“No… fuck no. Please, Satoru, I want you inside of me.” He couldn’t deny that request, judging by the groan Suguru let out, he wouldn’t deny it either. “Alright.. Fuck alright…” Satoru was getting back on the bed fully, grabbing your ankles and lifting them. You had no time to even squeal in protest before Satoru was folding you into a mating press. “Y-you haven’t even entered me yet…” you wheezed, your knees nearly touching your breasts as the over six foot man settled more of his weight onto you. “Shh don’t worry princess, this will be worth it.” any protest died on your lips, the nickname of his choosing made your body feel warm all over. 

Satoru got himself as comfortable as he could, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to truly settle until he pushed his way inside of you. Ever aware of his size, Satoru ran the slightly swollen head of his cock between your puffy folds, letting your arousal cover him. He held his breath, too enthralled by the way yours caught in your throat each time he bumped your clit. “It’ll hurt a bit at first but it’ll ease up pretty quick, okay?” His alcohol was wearing off but it was no match for his pussy drunk daze. Still, he was going to walk you through each thing he did, blue eyes sparkling with tender reassurance. You nodded, chewing on your lower lip as he positioned his head at your entrance. “Just relax, princess…” 

You nodded, inhaling deeply before slowly letting it out. Satoru timed your breathing with his movements, pressing into you as you exhaled. Your breathing stuttered just a bit as the bulbous head of his cock split you open, stretching you wide and making you flinch. Satoru stopped, whispering soft praises before he kept his hips moving. “It’ll be more uncomfortable if I just stay in place, let me bottom out.” You nodded, your hands holding onto the backs of your thighs as Satoru kept pushing his length into you. When he noticed tears starting to shine in your eyes, he cooed soft reassurance to you, ignoring how his cock was pulsating between your fluttering walls. “I’m almost all the way in, the worst part is almost over.” He smiled a bit, thumb brushing your knee where he held it. You couldn’t recall ever being with a man that had a dick this big. 

“Rub her clit, Satoru. That will help ease any of her discomfort.” Suguru chimed, hand blatantly palming his erection as he greedily observed. “Good thinking.” Satoru hummed, the hand he had been using to guide himself into you now moved to rub gentle circles on your clit. Stars exploded in your vision as the uncomfortable stretch turned into blinding pleasure. Your walls clamped down around him, earning a barely audible whimper between his endless praises. “Yo-you’re taking me so well, I’m sorry it’s so big… oh fuck you’re doing so good f’me princess.” Satoru whined, bottoming out as he tried to regain his bearing before fucking into you. It was nearly impossible to stay still, but the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in this way. He would later argue that the bite marks you bestowed on one another were different from this. 

“Are you okay?” He breathed out, looking at you with lidded eyes and parted lips, making your heart stutter in your chest as you nodded on autopilot. Satoru smiled, settling his body onto you better and really solidifying the mating press he had maneuvered you into. “I’m gonna start moving, princess. Just tell me if I get too rough…” his arms hooked under your knees, forcing your legs wider and further up as he found himself a good position to roll his hips into you. Your hands shakily reached up to rest on his shoulders, shivering as Satoru’s head came to bury in the crook of your neck. Even from Suguru’s perspective, he couldn’t tell where you started and Satoru ended, completely engulfed in one another as Satoru began to find his rhythm. 

Your hands quickly turned from resting to grabbing, breathless whines leaving your lips as Satoru’s cock dragged in and out of your already sensitive cunt. He felt heavy and warm despite being enveloped in your suffocating heat. You could feel the slight upward curve every time he passed over one particular spot, it wasn’t long before a slick squelch emitted from where your bodies connected. “Oh fuck… oh fuck…” Satoru whimpered against your neck, losing himself in the slipper embrace of your cunt. “So good.. Fuck you feel so good… you’re so wet…” he nearly sobbed into your neck, drunk off of your body as his hips relentlessly fucked into you. “Gonna fill you up so good, princess. Fuck so–so fucking good.” he continued to blabber, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as pleasure racked his body over and over. 

You were too far gone to respond to anything, loud moans falling from your lips as you tried to convey how he was making you feel. Each connection had Satoru’s balls slapping against your ass, earning a low whimper into the crook of your neck, right over where he had bitten you. “Make sure you tell me when you’re cumming, Satoru.” Suguru spoke in a slightly raised tone, between the noises you were both making and the noises your bodies made each time he slammed into you, Suguru needed to be sure he was heard. Satoru only lifted his head a bit to mumble a “sure”, vision blurry as he sloppily slotted his lips over yours. The kiss was nothing short of a mess, tongues and breathless pants colliding as drool seeped down the sides of your mouth. Your abdomen was tightening again, an orgasm prickling in your gut as Satoru’s pubic bone managed to rub your cunt with each messy thrust. 

“Gonna cum… ‘toru…” You slurred, this time your impending orgasm felt a little more relaxed,  a warmth spreading through you as Satoru hovered over you. He was studying your face intently, lips a pretty shade of pink and slightly swollen from your kisses. He was close too, but his ability to speak seemed to be robbed by the way your cunt clenched around him. No words could get past his lips, nevermind form in his brain. Satoru’s hips bucked into you a little harder, your whole body shaking with the force of his blows before finally, he was stuttering into you with a loud groan. Your own orgasm hit you shortly after, making your body quiver as Satoru spilled his seed into you. His hips were rocking still, fucking his load deep into your awaiting womb. “So… fuck take it all… take every last drop, Princess…” he had given up on making sense, half of his words stumbling over the other as you tried to remember how to breathe. 

The room finally fell silent, Satoru’s body was still mildly restless as his hips slowly grinded into you. “Well done, you two.” Suguru’s voice earned a groan from the two of you, in your post-orgasm haze, you had forgotten he was there. “You can relax for a few minutes but you’ll have to start round two soon… oh, and Satoru? Don’t you dare pull out of her, keep every drop inside.” Satoru’s body nearly collapsed on you fully at that. “Round two?” He rasped out, limbs feeling like pure jello. “Yes, round two. We have to be thorough. If this doesn't work, we’ll have to keep trying until it's successful.” Suguru was once again displaying a nonchalant behavior regarding the whole thing. “Fine by me.” you slurred out before Satoru could even complain, clarity hitting him like a freight train until you uttered your approval. 

If you were okay with it, then so was Satoru. He didn’t think he’d be able to give up a cunt like yours after tonight, whether it was part of Suguru’s breeding plan or not. “Alright then, whatever you want, you get.” Satoru murmured, lowering again to kiss you tenderly.