#now it’s midnight and I still don’t know what happened

[luveline]

Hotch’s little sister x Spencer, they gang up on her about her safety or health or something, and she’s like “I’m happy you’re getting along, but don’t love getting ganged up on” 😂

You thought that when things between Spencer and Aaron finally became less awkward again, things would be easier. It was never your intention to drive a wedge between them, but perhaps it’s not your fault. 

After all, Spencer’s the one who chose to date his boss’s younger sister. That was his idea. 

Of course, you ate up his flirting and agreed to all your dates, but still. Spencer’s fault for sure. So why are you in trouble? 

“Honey, I’m honestly a little surprised with you.” Aaron takes a deep breath. “It was a completely unnecessary course of action.” 

Surprised with you is more apt than he realises. “Wait a second, what?” You’d known you were in for a scolding from his weird text, but you have no idea what he’s talking about. 

“You went for a walk in the city alone at midnight?” Aaron frowns. “Have you learned nothing from me?” 

“How do you know I went for a walk?” 

Aaron raises his eyebrows. You look out of the window of his office and straight into the guilty face of your boyfriend. He has the decency not to look away, at least. “Spencer told you that?” 

“He did.” 

You meet the big, soft, beautiful brown eyes of your lovely boyfriend and quirk a finger at him for him to join you in the office. 

“Don’t start, honey.” 

“Aaron, I’m allowed to go for a walk.” 

“In the city? In the middle of the night?” Aaron gives you another unimpressed eyebrow raise. You glare at him, not fond of being questioned. 

“I had my phone.” 

He pinches his brow. 

“Aaron, what’s up with you? I’m well within my rights to go for a walk. I wanted to clear my head. I didn’t go down any side alleys.” 

“You realise you’re being defensive with me because you know it was a silly thing to do.” 

You bristle. The door opens and honestly seeing Spencer’s little frown makes you more annoyed than you had been. “Spencer, why would you tell him my business?” 

“It came up in conversation?” he tries. 

“Spencer.” 

“I was concerned! You can’t just walk around at night in the city by yourself! Who knows what could’ve happened to you, and Hotch agrees with me, it’s too dangerous…” He bites his lip. “I didn’t mean to tattle, and I don’t want to tell you what you can or can’t do.” 

“But I can,” Aaron says. “We all know you’re aware of the danger you put yourself in. Please, don’t do it again.” 

“I feel like I just went back in time a hundred years,” you say. 

“It’s an antiquated attitude, but it’s, you know, grounded firmly in reality,” Spencer says, and you’re surprised to find he isn’t shying away from you now. “It’s reckless. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“It would destroy me,” Aaron says without preamble. “Honey. Please, you can’t do that again, especially without telling someone where you’re going. What if somebody hurt you?” 

You pause to digest what he’s saying. He’d profiled you correctly before —you’re defensive because you already knew you were taking a risk, and you knew if he found out this is how he would react. You hadn’t suspected Spencer would rat you out, but it’s not like he’d been very happy when he learned about it for the first time either. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?” you ask. “You’re going to gang up on me whenever I do something stupid.” 

Aaron’s smile is forgiving and a little bit sorry, too, “I didn’t say stupid, did I?” 

“Reckless,” Spencer supplies. 

“Well. At least you’re both getting along again.” 

“That’s yet to be seen,” Aaron says quickly. 

You wave a hand at Aaron in the universal sign for shut up and turn your full attention to Spencer where he’s laughing in the doorway. You push him out by the chest, not bothering to wait for the office door to close before you start in on him. “That was confidential information, Spencer Reid, which you were privy to as a boyfriend, and not my brother's colleague and conspirator.” 

“I’m sorry.” He smiles, and he’s sincere. “I just knew you’d listen to him.” 

Ugh. Stupid profilers. “Sure, I’ve listened. Now I’m extremely upset and in need of lunch.” 

“Where do you wanna go? I’ll buy,” Spencer says immediately. 

That’s more like it. 

[darksigns-exe]

crystal clear - noah sebastian x f!reader

warnings: swearing, fingering (f receiving), more big feelings

word count: 2.7k

masterlist | read pt 1 here | taglist sign-up

It’s almost midnight by the time you’re done eating and have cleaned everything up again. Noah had made no mention of what had happened just a little while earlier. He’d just moved on as if nothing had changed, while you could feel yourself burning up from the inside out. The spot on your neck where he had left his mark still feels so raw when you brush your fingers against it. You can still feel his hands on your body. 

He slumps down next to you, stretching his legs out across the carpet. 

You don’t know how to move on from this. 

No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about the way he’d kissed you. You’d never be able to uncross this lines – not that you wanted to. 

Noah lets out a yawn, letting his head thump against your shoulder. 

“Mind if I stay here tonight? Don’t wanna drive back.” he mumbles in that faux pouty tone of his. 

“Thought that was the plan?” you reply, bumping your head against his. 

“I didn’t want to assume.” 

He suddenly sounds so hesitant and insecure, and maybe that’s what makes you realise that this is just as daunting for him as it is for you. 

“I was hoping that you’d stay.” you trail off, hoping that he’ll pick up on what you’re alluding to. 

“That so?” Noah sits up, turning to face you, “We should talk first, though.” 

As much as you want to drag him back to you, you know that this conversation needs to happen. And the sooner it happens, the better. 

“I don’t know where to start.” you admit, writhing your hands together. 

He reaches across to take your hands into his, “Neither do I but – I meant what I said earlier. I’ve been trying to find a good moment for this for a while now, but it never felt like the right time. And then you kept telling about how all of these people were just making you feel worse – I had to try, even at the chance that you wouldn’t feel that way for me.” 

You want to reach out and smooth the deep set furrow in his brow, but with him still holding on to your hands, all you can do is squeeze his hands. 

“I’m glad you did.” “So am I.” he replies, scooting a little closer to you, “If you want to I’d like to give this a shot. Take you out on a date and everything.”

“One condition.” 

Maybe you’re pushing it but breaking the tension feels like a good thing right now. 

“Of course. Whatever you need.”

“I want flowers.”

He breaks into a bright smile, “Oh, you’ll get so many flowers. Every day. As many as you want.” 

Within the blink of an eye, you find yourself on your back once again. The sudden movement makes you laugh, which in turn breaks Noah. And when he kisses you this time, it’s all smiles. You thread your fingers into his hair as he trails a soft line of kisses along your neck. 

You’ll never get enough of the softness on his face, the gentle adoration that simmers just below the surface. 

“Let me take you to bed?” he asks so gently that it makes you shiver all over. 

“Please.” you sigh in response. 

You’ve shared a bed with Noah on multiple occasions. He has stayed over at your place so often that he has a small stash of clothes in your dresser. But no matter how often you’ve woken up next to him, it’s all different now. Sitting next to him on top of your bed feels a little new and strange. Noah seems to be just as hesitant as you are. And really, you get it. It’s a big thing. He knows that you haven’t been intimate with anyone before, and you can’t imagine that he’s taking this lightly. 

This time, you’re the one who reaches out first. There’s a slight tremble to his hand when yours wraps around it. 

“We don’t have to do this right now. We can just get comfortable and get to that whenever it happens.” you tell him, hoping that your worry for him isn’t too obvious.

Noah clears his throat, “I just want this to be perfect for you. My first time wasn’t good, and I don’t want you to feel bad about it later, too.” 

The quiet admission stings deep in your chest, “I don’t think I could feel bad about it with you. I know that you’ll take good care of me.” 

There’s a faint little smile on his face, a soft little thing that eases your worries and dampens the sting. 

“I’ll do my best.” he replies, squeezing your hand, “If something feels off please tell me, okay?”

“Noah.” you warn, earning yourself another bright smile from him. 

He eyes you for a long moment, smile still playing on his lips. 

“Think I could kiss you again?” he sounds so adorably sheepish then, and you can’t possibly say no to him.

The kiss that follows is impossibly sweet. Noah’s hand behind your head keeps you close to him, but there’s nothing controlling about this. You soon find yourself on your back, with Noah once again hovering over you. The warm weight of his body comforts the nervous edge in your mind. You know what’s coming, but you know that you’ll be safe and well taken care of with him. 

His hand drifts up the side of your body, slowly working its way under the fabric of your shirt. His palm is warm against your skin, his touch much softer than you had expected. 

“How about we get this off you?” he asks, toying with the hem of your shirt. 

There’s a blip of insecurity in your mind, but it passes as soon as you lift the garment over your head and the breath visibly catches in Noah’s throat. His eyes flicker across your bared chest, unable to settle on a single spot. You’ve never seen him this hesitant as when he reaches out to brush the tips of his fingers against the skin of your tummy. It’s almost as if he’s in disbelief at seeing you like this. 

You reach towards him, almost mirroring his own touch. Noah reacts a little delayed, slowly taking his own shirt off. His breath hitches when your fingers make contact with his skin. 

You don’t quite understand how something that is so very familiar to you, can feel this new. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but drawing the tips of your fingers across the intricate lines that decorate his body gives you an entirely new perspective. Noah lets out a breathy little laugh when you find a particularly sensitive spot. 

“You’re so beautiful.” his voice comes barely above a whisper, disbelief still evident on his features. 

You want to counter his words, tell him that you think the same about him. But the words just won’t come to you. Thankfully, Noah takes your mind off it when he leans down to kiss you once more. From here, his lips make a slow descent along your jaw and neck. You feel teeth grazing across the skin of your collarbones. He soothes barely there sting with a gentle kiss. You sigh when he repeats the motion, one hand weaving into his hair. His lips find the apex of your breasts, placing soft kisses there too. The attention he gives you is maddening. 

He’s so very carefully when he helps you remove the remained of your clothes, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. He’d stripped down to his briefs at some point, but with the rush of information and sensation, you must have missed when. 

Noah kneels between your parted thighs, one of his hands placed comfortable on top of your thigh, while the other toys with the hem of your panties. His eyes drift across your body, stretched out in front of him. The shyness you had expected to feel is nowhere to be found. Instead, you feel so very comfortable beneath his glance. 

“Oh darling.” he says with a sigh, dragging the backs of his fingers across your still clothed centre.

You gasp, not used to this kind of touch from someone else. 

He keeps is voice low and soft, “You're so wet already, and we haven’t even done anything yet. Can I take these off too?” 

You nod, feeling a little too shaky to speak.

“Push up a little for me.” he says, tapping your hip. 

Noah works the fabric down your waist and legs, letting them disappear somewhere out of your sight. His fingers caress the inside of your thighs, not quite touching where you want him to touch. You are by no means a stranger to touching yourself. You know how to get yourself off, but the anticipation of someone else touching you like that fills your head with fuzz. 

His thumb drags through your folds so slowly and carefully. Your eyes fall shut when he circles it around your clit. Noah mumbles something to himself, but the words don’t reach your ears. You feel fingers tracing along your entrance, and your breath catches when the tip of his middle finger dips inside. 

“Do you always get wet like this, or is this just for me?” he asks, sounding almost amused, “Does that feel good?”

You whine out a yes in reply, earning you a soft chuckle from him. 

He carefully eases his finger inside, paying close attention to the sounds you make in reaction. The digit curls inside you, drawing another new noise from you. 

“I love the sounds you make. Sound so sweet.” He muses, eyes focused entirely on where his finger works in and out of you. 

A second finger joins the first, still so very careful. With his thumb drawing slow circles on your clit, you can start to feel yourself unravel. The attention Noah pays to you makes your head spin. His softly whispered words don’t reach your conscious mind. Your mind can’t focus on anything in particular, flipping between sensations by the second. One moment it’s the intent curl of his fingers inside you, the next it’s the warmth of his palm on your hip. A whine catches in your throat, breath hitching as your climax slowly creeps up on you. As much as you try to keep your eyes open, you fail miserably. That floaty feeling only becomes stronger, slowly dragging you under. 

You’re right on the edge of it. Noah’s hand wraps around yours, holding it just tight enough. 

“You’re right there, aren’t you, baby?” he coaxes, fingers now moving faster and more intent than before, “There you go, just let go for me. That’s it.”

Your own fingers would never come close to this, and really you weren’t sure if you’d ever be satisfied with the highs you could bring yourself to. You’re sure that your grip on his hand is getting too tight, but you can’t will yourself to let go of him. Noah doesn’t let up, keeps working his fingers inside of you as you fall apart on his fingers. Only when your whines take on a pained edge does he ease up and slowly removes the digits from you. 

You give yourself a moment before you dare to open your eyes. When you do, you find Noah already looking at you. You can’t describe the expression on his face as anything less than adoration. You try your best to memorise the moment, just for the worst case scenario that you’ll never see this again. 

His thumb drifts across the back of your hand, effectively drawing you out of your thoughts. 

“How was that? Good?” there’s a trace of the same kind of worry in his voice that you hear when he asks if you like the song he’s been working on. 

“I don’t think that it’s ever felt this good.” you admit quietly. 

The worry is immediately replaced by that cocky smile of his, the kind that makes you want to push him over, “If you’re up for it, I think I can make it even better.” 

You can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. 

Noah breaks a second after that, and the soft sound of his laugh is like music to your ears. He folds over, forehead coming to rest against your tummy. His breath tickles against your skin. You decide that he’s entirely too far away from you and bring your hand back into his hair to tug him upwards to you. Noah follows all too easily. He meets you in a clumsy kiss, still smiling when he pulls away from you a moment later. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, still so very close to you, “Good to go on or do you want to finish this later?” 

“Don’t you dare.” you try to sound serious, but you can already feel yourself smiling around the words. 

“Alright, alright. One problem, I didn’t think this was going to happen. I don’t have anything with me.” he sits up a little, suddenly sounding a lot more serious, “If you’d feel better with a condom we can wait.” 

You consider your options for a moment. As much as you want this now, you can’t help but worry. Even with Noah’s assurance that there’s nothing to worry about from his side, the caution that has been beaten into you wins. 

There’s no disappointment on his face when you tell him that you want to wait. Instead, his hand finds its way to the side of your face. 

“It’s okay.” the genuine softness on his face eases the fear in your chest a little, “We don’t need to rush into this.”

“I’ve been waiting for so long –” 

He shakes his head, “I know, darling. I know it feels like you’re missing out, but I’d rather do this right than rushed. And either way, I’m not going anywhere.”

You shoot him a questioning look. 

“Did you really think that I was going to just let us go back to before? I mean, unless you want that –”

This time, you’re the one who stops him from rambling. You pull him in for a kiss, silencing him before his worrying derails entirely. 

“I’m guessing that means we don’t go back to just friends?” he asks, that little bit of smile still fixed on his face. 

“I don’t think I could go back to seeing you as just a friend even if I wanted to.” 

Noah pulls himself away from you, looking somewhat reluctant to put distance between you, “Good. Don’t think I could do that either.” 

“So what does that make us?” you ask quietly. 

Noah is quiet for a long moment. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. 

“I don’t wanna do this whole let’s see where this take us thing. I like you – too much, dance around this for ages. We’ve done enough of that already.” 

“So what I’m hearing is that you don’t want to pretend to be my boyfriend when a weird guy tries to chat me up in a bar any more?” 

“Won’t have to pretend.” he replies so softly, “This won’t be easy, but I think we can make it work.”

“We managed to keep this friendship running while you’re off doing your thing.” you counter quickly, “Will be worth it either way.” 

His smile widens at that, “We’ll make this work.”

“We will.” you reply, stifling a yawn, “But that can wait until tomorrow – later today.” 

When you had found him on your sofa earlier that night, you hadn’t thought that you would end the night curled up against him like this. Or that any of this would happen for that matter. He’s held you like this before, but now, with his warm hands resting against the skin of your tummy, you feel so very comforted. You feel Noah press another kiss to your cheek, you’ve lost count of how many kisses he’s pressed to your skin since your talk, but they all make you feel soft and warm inside. 

Behind you, Noah lets out a content sigh, as his arms tighten around you, and suddenly you wonder how you’ve ever gone without this.

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[earthtoharlow]

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

16. March 14th

It was late and Maryse was exhausted, lying in bed next to Jack. She shifted under the covers and looked over at him before sighing, seeing him sleeping peacefully. The twins had been particularly active that night, kicking and moving making it hard to get in a comfortable position. At this point she was going to sign them up at Mockingbird Valley as soon as they were born. 

She rubbed her belly, feeling another kick, but this time something was different. A sharp pain shot through her abdomen, taking her breath away. At first, she thought it was just the babies being active again, but as the pain grew stronger, she realized this wasn’t just kicking..

Maryse reached for Jack, who was still snoring next to her. “Babe…Jack…I think it’s happening,” she said as she started shaking him awake.

Jack sat up immediately, now wide awake. “What? You aren’t due for another few weeks!” 

Tears welled up in her eyes as the pain intensified. “I know…it’s too early.” She whispered loudly, starting to panic. “It’s too soon, they’re not ready!”

Jack quickly got out of the bed, throwing on sweat sweatpants and a hoodie. Reaching for the hospital bag they had prepared weeks ago. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s just get you to the hospital.” 

Tears rolled down Maryse’s cheeks as she shook her head. “But what if something goes wrong? I’m not ready, I’m—”

“We got this,” Jack interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re strong, and our babies are going to be just fine. You’ve been carrying them for months, and they’re ready to meet us.”

She nodded weakly, still scared, but his words settled some of the fear bubbling inside her. “Okay,” she whispered, letting him help her toward the car.

With a reassuring squeeze of her hand, Jack said, “Let’s go meet our babies.”

As they sped through the dark streets, the hospital still a few miles away, Jack kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting gently on Maryse’s thigh. She was gripping her belly, her breathing controlled but strained as another contraction came and went. The tension in the car was intense and Jack wanted to lighten it up. 

With a slight grin, he glanced over at her, his voice playful. “You know… if we time this right, they’ll probably end up being born the day after me.” His birthday was a few short hours ago as it was now past midnight. 

Maryse, between deep breaths, shot him a tired but amused look. “You seriously think you’re that lucky?” 

He chuckled, turning his attention back to the road for a second before looking at her again. “Hey, I’m just saying… twins love a grand entrance. They want their own day but close enough to remind everyone who their dad is.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as she braced through another contraction, and for a moment, he thought maybe his light-hearted joke wasn’t working. But as the pain lessened, she turned to him with a small smirk. “Let’s just hope they’re not as dramatic as their dad.”

He laughed softly, the sound a brief comfort in the intensity of the moment. “I don’t know about that. If they’ve got even half of your fire, we’re in for it.”

When they finally arrived, the doctors confirmed that she was indeed in labor but only three centimeters dilated. “You’ve got some hours to go,” the nurse with a sympathetic smile, helping her adjust the bed for comfort.

As Maryse tried to focus on her breathing, Jack sat beside her, tapping his fingers on the bedside table. At first, it was a soft rhythm, something to distract himself from the nerves, but it soon became obvious he was making a beat out of the rhythm of her breathing.

Maryse clenched her jaw, exhaling sharply. “If you don’t stop tapping,” she said through gritted teeth, “I’m going to get really mad.”

Jack froze mid-tap, eyes wide, then sheepishly pulled his hand away from the table. “Sorry, just trying to help,” he muttered, a crooked grin forming.

She shot him a look but then sighed, leaning back into her pillows. “Maybe help by not turning my labor into a mixtape.”

“Noted,” he said, settling back, a little quieter but still grinning.

In between contractions, Maryse looked up at Jack with a weak smile. “I’m hungry,” she whispered, her voice laced with exhaustion. “Can you get me something?”

Jack, eager to help, nodded quickly. “I got you,” he said, rushing out of the room.

A few minutes later, he returned, his arms overflowing with snacks—chips, candy, granola bars, a banana, even a couple of drinks. “I, uh… I wasn’t sure what you could have, so I just grabbed everything,” he admitted sheepishly, holding up the pile.

Maryse blinked at the assortment, then gave a small laugh despite the situation. “I can’t eat half of that, but I appreciate the effort.”

“Which one can you eat?” Jack asked, looking a little lost.

She pointed to the banana and granola bar. “Those will do. Thanks, baby.”

He handed them over, still looking concerned. “I’ll eat the rest,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood, but his eyes stayed glued to her, watching her every move with worry as she nibbled at the food between breaths.

“You should probably call your parents… and mine,” she said, in between bites

Jack hesitated, not wanting to leave her side for even a second, but nodded. “Okay, I’ll call them. But I’m not going far.”

Maryse squeezed his hand, appreciating his presence. “I know. Just… tell them it’s happening.”

Before Jack walked out the room Maryse stopped him. “Hey, babe?”

Jack turned around, “I love you, and so happy to be on this journey with you.”

She could see him getting emotional, Jack walked back and pressed a long kiss to her forehead, and then to her lips. “I love you more.”

“Yuck.” Maryse says with a grin before pushing him away. “Now, go call our parents and Urban so you can relax a bit.” 

He kissed her forehead softly before stepping aside, pulling out his phone. “Hey, Mrs, Monet” he began quietly, trying to keep his voice calm, though the excitement and worry were palpable. “Sorry, Margot… It’s time. We’re at the hospital… yeah, for real this time.”

As he made the calls, Maryse breathed deeply, bracing herself for the next contraction. Knowing their families would be there soon brought her a bit of comfort. Even though things were happening faster than expected, she felt better with Jack by her side and their loved ones on the way.

Jack came back into the room after stepping out to make the call, his face slightly flushed from rushing back to her side. He took a seat next to Maryse, gently lifting her hand again.

“I just got off the phone with your parents,” he said, his voice calm. “They’re taking the next flight out from New York, but they probably won’t make it before the babies are born.”

Maryse let out a soft sigh, her face showing a mix of disappointment and anxiety. “I was hoping they’d be here in time.”

“I know, baby, but my mom and dad are on their way. They’ll be here soon,” he reassured her, squeezing her hand. “My mom’s gonna bring all the calm energy you need.”

She forced a smile through the pain, “Good. I need that right now.”

Jack leaned in and kissed her temple, his thumb gently rubbing her palm. “You’re doing amazing. Just a little longer, and we’ll have them here.”

She nodded, trying to focus on his words instead of the contractions. “You’re staying with me the whole time, right?”

“Of course. I’m not leaving your side,” he promised, his eyes steady on hers.

Maryse smiled and gave him a tired look, wincing as another contraction rolled through.

“Hey, Urban just got here. He’s in the waiting room.”

“Good. Maybe he can take some of your nervous energy because it’s making me nervous too.”

Jack chuckled, trying to play it cool but knowing she could read him better than anyone. “I’m not that nervous.”

She raised an eyebrow and let out a small huff, “Babe, I can see you tapping your foot like you’re working on a beat, again!”

He looked down, noticing his foot bouncing anxiously, and sheepishly smiled. “Alright, maybe I’m a little worked up.”

“Go tell him to come in here,” Maryse added, squeezing his hand, “Maybe he can calm you down.”

Jack nodded, standing up. “I’ll bring him in,” he said, giving her hand one last reassuring squeeze before heading out to get his friend.

When Maryse saw Urban walk in, holding his film camera with a mischievous grin, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You really brought a camera in here?”

Urban shrugged, still grinning. “Gotta document the moment, right?”

She let out a low groan as another contraction hit, her face scrunching up in pain. “I’m in way too much pain to yell at you right now… but trust me, I’ll make up for it later.”

Urban chuckled, holding up the camera defensively. “Hey, I’m just capturing memories.”

“I better appreciate these photos when this is all over,” she muttered, shifting uncomfortably as the pain intensified. “Because I swear, if I look like a mess in them, you’re gonna regret it.”

Jack chuckled, rubbing her back. “You’ll look amazing—“

Maryse gave him a tired side-eye. “Whatever.” But deep down, she knew she’d treasure the moments Urban was capturing.

Just as another wave of pain hit, Jack’s parents finally arrived. Maggie swept into the room, her eyes immediately going to Maryse, taking in her exhaustion. She wasted no time.

“You two,” she pointed at Jack and Urban, “go get some coffee. I can tell you’ve been getting on her nerves.”

Jack blinked in disbelief. “I haven’t! I’ve been—”

Maryse shot him a look, eyebrow raised. He fell silent, his argument dying before it began.

Maggie gave him a knowing smile. “Mmhmm. Go on. We’ll keep her company for a bit.”

Urban snickered, nudging Jack as they reluctantly headed for the door. “Told you she’d notice.”

Jack grumbled, glancing back at Maryse as she waved him off, already more relaxed with his mom by her side. “Yeah, yeah. We won’t be long,” he muttered, trying to salvage a little pride.

Maryse just smirked, leaning into his mom’s comforting presence as they left the room.

Maggie turned to Maryse with a gentle smile. “How are you doing, sweetheart? Feeling okay? I really hope he’s not driving you too crazy in here.”

She let out a tired chuckle, her body relaxing a bit now that the room was quieter. “Honestly, he’s been doing great. He’s just… really nervous, and it’s kind of rubbing off on me. But he’s been sweet.”

She nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. “He gets that way when he cares a lot. I’m so happy for you two. This is such an exciting time.”

Maryse smiled, her eyes tearing up a little. “Thanks… I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

His mom leaned over, squeezing her hand. “You’re going to be amazing parents. Both of you.”

That reassurance settled something in Maryse, the warmth of it wrapping around her like a blanket.

A few minutes later, Jack popped his head back into the room, grinning like a kid caught sneaking candy. “Can I come back in now? I miss you,” he said, eyes soft as they landed on Maryse.

She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re so cheesy,” she muttered, but the warmth in her voice gave her away. No matter how much she pretended to be annoyed, that sweetness was exactly what she needed right now.

His mom laughed, patting his shoulder as she passed him on her way out. “Alright, you two, I’ll let you have your moment.”

Jack quickly walked over to her bedside, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I can’t help it,” he said softly. “I love you.”

Maryse rolled her eyes again, but this time, she smiled wide. “Ew. You really do.”

Before he could respond, her face scrunched in discomfort. She gripped Jack’s hand tightly, her voice shaking. “Get the doctor or nurse, please,” she urged, barely able to keep her breath steady.

Jack’s eyes widened with concern as he quickly stood up, rushing to the door and calling for help. A nurse hurried in within moments, checking Maryse over before nodding. “It’s time. You’re ready to push.”

Panic mixed with excitement flashed across Jack’s face as the room suddenly buzzed with activity. The nurses quickly started prepping everything while another handed him a set of scrubs. “We need to get you into these now,” she instructed.

Jack fumbled with the clothes, his hands shaking as he tried to put them on. He glanced back at Maryse, who was focused on breathing through the pain. He could tell she was terrified, but there was no time to dwell on that now. He had to be there for her.

“You got this, baby,” he called out, though his own nerves were showing. He finally got dressed and rushed back to her side, ready to hold her hand through what was about to happen.

Maryse gave him a tired but determined look. “You better be right here the whole time,” she said between breaths.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, squeezing her hand as the doctor arrived.

The doctor stood at the foot of the bed, ready for the arrival of their twins. “Alright, Mrs. Harlow, it’s time to push. Give me a big one,” the doctor said, voice calm yet firm.

Maryse didn’t even register being called “Mrs. Harlow,” too focused on the overwhelming pressure and pain. Her entire body trembled as she braced herself, gripping Jack’s hand so tightly that he winced, but he didn’t dare complain.

“You’re doing amazing, babe,” Jack encouraged, his voice soft but steady. “Just breathe. I’m right here. You’ve got this.”

With a final push, their son was born. His tiny cry pierced the air almost immediately, bringing both of them to tears. “It’s a boy!” the doctor announced, but before they could fully process it, the doctor encouraged her to push again. “One more, you’re doing great!”

But before she could catch her breath, the next contraction hit, signaling it was time for their second baby. “You’re almost there,” Jack reassured her. “One more. You can do this.”

She bore down, pushing with all her strength. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and the room seemed to fade around her, everything focusing on the task at hand. She groaned with the effort, her face contorting in pain, but she didn’t stop. The sound of the doctor’s calm instructions blended with Jack’s reassuring words, both keeping her going.

Jack leaned in, kissing the side of her forehead, his heart racing as much as hers. “Just a little more, baby, you’re almost done.”

Maryse screamed as she gave one last push, The doctor held her up, but the room fell into an eerie silence—she didn't cry

Her heart dropped. She looked over at Jack, panic in her eyes, and she squeezed his hand even tighter. “Why isn’t she crying? What’s wrong?”

Jack’s face paled, his eyes glued to their baby. “Come on, baby girl,” he whispered under his breath, his voice trembling. “Come on.”

The seconds felt like hours. The nurses quickly began rubbing her back, gently stimulating her, and finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sweetest sound filled the room—a tiny, soft cry.

Both Maryse and Jack let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding, tears streaming down their faces. “She’s okay,” the doctor reassured them, “Sometimes it just takes them a minute.”

Jack’s legs almost gave out from the relief as he leaned over to kiss Maryse's forehead. “She’s okay,” he whispered, voice cracking. “They’re both okay.”

Once the nurses had cleaned the babies, they gently placed one in each of their arms. Maryse cradled the first twin, their son, while Jack held their daughter, his face lit with awe. The room was quieter now, the cries subsiding into soft coos, and the nurses hovered nearby, curious as they asked the question.

“So, what are their names?” one nurse asked, a smile on her face.

Maryse looked up at Jack, her heart swelling. This was the moment they’d talked about, dreamed about. She shifted her gaze back down to the tiny face in her arms, brushing a finger softly across her son’s cheek.

“Noah Thomas,” she said softly, pride and emotion lacing her voice.

Jack smiled, glancing down at their daughter, who was already settling in his arms like she knew she belonged there. “And this little one is London Paige,” he added, his voice full of warmth.

The nurses beamed. “Beautiful names,” one of them said, making a note on the clipboard.

As they looked down at their children, Maryse and Jack exchanged a glance, both overwhelmed by the love and responsibility that had just entered their lives. Noah, with his tiny features that mirrored Maryse, and London, with her resemblance to Jack, made the moment feel even more surreal.

“They’re perfect,” Jack whispered, leaning in to kiss Maryse's forehead again, unable to tear his eyes away from their babies.

Maryse smiled tiredly. “Yeah, they really are.”

The nurses gently took Noah and London to the adjoining station to check their vitals, Jack turned his full attention to Maryse. He leaned closer, cupping her face in his hands, brushing his lips against her forehead, her cheeks, and finally planting soft kisses all over her face.

“I’m so happy right now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You did amazing, babe. I can’t believe we just brought two beautiful babies into the world.”

Maryse laughed lightly, still feeling a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with tears of happiness. “You were right there with me the whole time.”

Jack nodded, his eyes shining. “And I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. You’re incredible.” He paused, watching her with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

“I can’t believe we’re parents now.”

“Right? We are really doing this,” he replied, grinning ear to ear, his voice filled with excitement.

Just then, the nurses returned with the twins, both of them sleeping peacefully in their tiny blankets. “They’re doing great!” one of the nurses announced, beaming at the new parents. “Everything looks perfect.”

Jack’s eyes lit up as they approached, and he turned back to Maryse. “Look at them,” he said, pride swelling in his chest. “We made those little miracles.”

Maryse couldn’t help but smile as she watched him fall into that instant connection with their children. “They’re our world now,” she said softly.

She leaned back against the hospital pillow, she couldn’t help but smile at Jack, who stood by the bassinet, completely mesmerized by the tiny babies they had just brought into the world. She watched him, his eyes wide and full of love, and felt a warmth spread through her chest. All the pain and stress they had just endured felt like a distant memory. Before the exhaustion pulled her under, her mind wandered back to the whirlwind of the past year.

From the dizzying heights of success with her music career to the unexpected news of her pregnancy, it had all felt like a beautiful, chaotic dream. 

Their late-night talks, the way he made her laugh when she was feeling down, and the countless times he had gently reminded her of her strength—it all played like a montage in her mind. The stalker incident, the Super Bowl performance, and the challenges of preparing for two little ones felt like a lifetime ago. Yet here they were, parents of two, ready to take on whatever came next.

She glanced at Jack again, who was still transfixed by the babies, his expression a mix of awe and pride. That sight filled her with warmth, and as her eyelids grew heavier, she felt a sense of gratitude wash over her. They had fought through it all together, and now, with their family finally complete, she knew they could handle anything.

***

AN: EVERYONE SCREAMMMMMM!!! Noah & London are hereeeeee ;) a day after Jack's birthday of course poor maryse haha please let me know what you think and if you like their names 🫶

Tag List

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

*recently made a new tag list so if your name is missing please let me know*

@harlowsbby @heavyhitterheaux @harlowcomehome @https-harlow @hoodharlow @gazeboharlow @jackmans-poison @itsyagirljaz @cosypinky2 @theyoganarrative @ann2sno @bugheadfanatic @umicornlove @venic-bxtch @muli-wam @jackharlow502 @slutzzz4jack @aga21 @iknowdatsrightbih @theboujeestofboujee @babygirl-htx @chantelaustingunn @wabi-sabi1090 @dstark-0706 @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2

[fruitless-vain]

Can’t be paranoid if you’re too sleep deprived to even hold one coherent thought 🤷‍♀️

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[arionawrites]

1. it’s my 24th birthday today, so my goal of being published by the time i’m 25 is now a one year looming monster, but i never specified what kind of published and am currently looking in various literary magazines that are recommended for writers who have yet to be published, so i’m surprisingly confident that i can make it work? and tbh even if whatever i write isn’t officially published before my 25th birthday, if i have someone in the process of being published then i’ll be happy!! no matter what though, i’m gonna try to be proud of myself for at least giving it my best shot!!

2. i honestly love that my birthday is on the ides of march because the ides of march meme shitposting is only a thing on tumblr but it also being my birthday makes it easier to like. be excited about the ides of march outside of tumblr. like even in person i can be like “it’s my birthday! i’m an ides of march babe (:” and if someone is like oh what’s that? or if they say something along the lines of oh like julius caesar? i can be like yep!! and even if it’s a small thing outside of tumblr it brings me immense enjoyment and amusement being able to bring it up off of tumblr

3. transportation situation has been very rough since june 2023 when i totalled my car, my gap insurance are being assholes and i ended up putting my foot down on the phone with them yesterday which i’m pretty proud of because i am NOT a confrontational person (something i’ve been working on this past year, so seeing some improvement with my ability to hold my ground and not be a pushover yesterday was very cool!!) i was told i’d get a response from them by friday next week no matter what, and if i don’t then friday of next week i will continue to wreak havoc upon them. but my moms car which i’ve been using since my accident broke down yesterday, hopefully it’s fixable but my parents were saying it might be done for, so trying to think of how i’m gonna get to work next week is kind of stressing me out lmao, but for now i’m just gonna focus on enjoying my birthday the best i can because i don’t want to start off being 24 with an overwhelming anxiety for something that won’t be a potential issue until monday. plus i already messaged my boss today to let her know that i’m going to do everything i can to make it work out but just so she’s in the loop and knows of the potential of me not being able to make my morning shifts (one of my coworkers said she’s more than happy to give me a ride for our afternoon shifts which does help relieve some of the stress!) and i told her i’d let her know for sure sunday so that if necessary she can have time to figure out someone to fill in for me in the mornings!

overall: life is weird and i ended being 23 yesterday with a shitty situation but a positive outlook and i am going to enjoy my first day of being 24 no matter what because honestly i fucking earned it. happy friday everyone, i hope it’s a good day for you and me both!

[cyphertaehyungie]

✨☁️💌🌙💫

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent a another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

in the refrigerator light

summary: you are somehow unprepared to run into Logan while on the quest for a midnight snack... in the house you both live in. wc: 1.9 k a/n: to be fair I did warn you that this would happen. I have a few more ideas kicking around in my head, but feel free to send requests if you have any! this doesn't take place during any particular movie, fyi, but you and Logan are both teaching at the school warnings: fluffy fluff, mutant!reader, empathic powers!reader, soft!Logan

You should have been asleep. Even after choosing to stay on at the school past your education, you’d had a hard time shaking habits of the past. It still felt strange to walk freely into professor only areas, and you were always in bed by 11:00 pm every night. Sneaking down to the kitchen to steal one of the chocolate bars you knew Scott had stashed deep in the back of a cabinet felt wrong, but the siren song was too strong to resist. 

You’d been quiet, making sure to avoid the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) before shuffling into the kitchen. You rubbed at your eyes as you made your way to the proper cabinet. The only problem being that it was much higher up than you remember. It was times like these that made you wish for a more helpful mutation, like telekinesis or at least a few extra inches of height. You struggled for a few moments, on your tippy toes, stretching your arm as far as you could reach before you gave up. You sighed, raking your hands through your hair and making your peace with the fact that chocolate was not in your future tonight. 

“Scoot over, bub.” You jumped and let out a small shriek, before clasping a hand over your mouth. It was rare that anyone got the drop on you these days, your power more finely tuned and emotions tending to be strong around the manor, but your guard was decidedly down in the place you’d called home for so many years. But Logan was an exception to many rules. HIs hand gently gripped your wrist, pulling you against his chest for a brief moment before moving to stand in front of the cabinet. He reached up into the cabinet, the zip up hoodie he wore pulling up to expose a few inches of his stomach before pulling down a few bars of chocolate with ease. He smiled, the crinkles by his eyes more prominent in the low light of the kitchen. You did your best to appear like you hadn’t just been ogling him. 

“How did you know-”

“Scott’s shit at secrets.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “You think he’d learn by now to not be such a loud mouth in a house full of people with enhanced hearing”. 

Your laugh was quiet, muffled by your hand in the interest of not waking the others. “Well, in that case, I hope one of those is for me.” 

Logan shrugged, eyes full of mirth. “What’ll you give me for it?” 

You blinked, unsure of yourself. You weren’t used to this Logan, yet. He was usually gruff and reserved, always reluctant to give into the kids in his history class that were trying to derail the lesson with a joke or two. He’d been playful a few times in your presence, and it almost always made you worried that the other shoe was about to drop. Seeing him in pajama pants and a soft grey sweatshirt only added to the strangeness situation. 

For the briefest moment, you considered using your powers. A single touch and you would know exactly how he was feeling. It was a blessing and a curse, to be able to be sure of how others were feeling with a single touch. A god-send on intel gathering or stealthy missions, a terrible temptation at midnight alone in the kitchen of the manor with the man you had harbored a crush on for as long as you’d known him. You make to grab one of the bars out of his hand, but he is too fast for you, quickly lifting them over his head. Your eyes narrowed. 

Fine, two can play at this game. You roll your shoulders back, drawing up your courage. “Depends what you want for it.” 

Logan grinned, dropping his arms and holding the bars behind his back. “Well, what I don’t want is to be an accomplice in your quest for cavities. Chuck’d have my head if he found out I had a part to play.”  

“I’m a big girl, Logan. I can take care of myself” You grab for the chocolate, but he’s too quick for you. For a brief moment, the two of you stare at each other, the moment charged. You lunged for the chocolate again, but Logan is already halfway across the kitchen, waving the chocolate around teasingly. 

“Logan, please” you laugh, following around the island. He cocked his head to the side, smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You were seconds away from stomping your foot and demanding he hand the chocolate over, when his smirk grew into a grin. 

“Alright bub,” he made his way around the island, depositing one of the chocolate bars in your hand. “You know I can’t say no to you.” 

You did your best to tamp down the butterflies that suddenly made a home in your stomach, but his smile was so gentle and he looked so soft, it was hard not to feel a little lovestruck. You snapped a piece of the bar off, and held it out to him. You dutifully busied yourself with breaking off a piece for yourself, ignoring the way that his affectionate gaze seemed to never leave you. 

“You’re not usually up this late,” he says, holding his hand out for another piece. You shrug, dropping another section into his hand. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Welcome to the club.” You knew that Logan had trouble sleeping, he was usually the first one hunched over a cup of coffee in the mornings, steadfastly ignoring inquiries into how he slept. 

“I, um” You hesitated. Usually offers of using your powers didn’t go well. You took a breath, steadying yourself. The worst he could say was no, right? “I could help with that, if you want.” 

Logan reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You could tell your eyes were the size of saucers, but you couldn’t find words. After a few moments, Logan took a step back, shaking his head slightly. You blinked owlishly, taking a breath to steady yourself. 

“That’s sweet of you, bub. But I wouldn’t want to tucker you out.” It was no secret around the house that although you had a less physical mutation, it still took some of your energy. Sensing emotions was as natural as breathing, but influencing them was newer, and took much more focus. 

You pointedly glanced at the clock over the stove, noting that it was well past any reasonable bedtime, before facing Logan once more. “That actually sounds really nice.” He mumbled something about not wanting to take advantage of you, but the words died in his throat when your hand found his own. You looked up at him through your lashes, hoping that he would be able to see how earnest you were being. “I don’t want to force you, but I want to be asleep more than anything, and I can tell that you are too wound up about something to even begin to fall asleep.” 

His thumb stroked over the back of your hand a few times, before he stepped around you and led you out of the kitchen. You expected him to turn towards the living room, where you’d caught him ‘resting his eyes’ a few times in the middle of the day. Instead, he turned right making sure to skip the creaky stair (third from the bottom on the right) and right up to the door of your room. 

“A bit presumptuous, no?” You asked, before opening the door and walking through. 

Logan rolled his eyes, leaning against your doorframe. “I was there the first time you tried this. Figured it was best that no one has to pick you up off the floor.” 

You felt your face grow hot, remembering the unmitigated disaster that had occurred the first time Charles suggested that this application of your powers was a possibility. Your chin tilted up, doing your best to project confidence. “Well, it’s been a while since then, I’ve gotten better.” 

If the lighting had been better, you would have seen the faintest pink blush coloring his cheeks. “Rogue’s in my room.” You couldn’t help it, your eyebrows shot up near your hairline. “She and Bobby got into a fight, she wanted somewhere she would be left alone.” His hands were twisting in the pockets of his sweatshirt as he ducked his head down low. 

“Is that why you were prowling around the kitchen?” He rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same. “Well, do you wanna stay here tonight?” He looked like he was about to object, but you held your hand up, effectively silencing him. “You’re doing a favor for Rogue, let me do one for you.” 

“Thought you were already doin’ me a favor, sweetheart.” He protested, all while moving towards your bed. 

You perched on the edge of your bed, consciously doing your best to keep your heart rate in check. The students always joked that between Charles and Jean’s mind reading and Logan being able to hear cheaters hearts speeding up, it wasn’t even worth it to try and cheat in class. It hadn’t occurred to you that if he could hear your heart fluttering, he could definitely hear the measured deep breaths you were taking to mitigate the issue. 

You reached for his hand, and he accepted it readily. His palm was shockingly smooth under yours, it must be from his regenerative powers. Your thumb gently ran across his knuckles, still slightly red from the training session he’d had with some of the students earlier in the day. You tugged on his arm slightly, and he lowered himself down onto the bed beside you. “I thought that it’s important to work as a team, sometimes.” 

“You spyin’ on me, bub?” You sheepishly meet his eyes, but find nothing but tenderness waiting for you. “I’ll try to forgive you.” He drops a kiss on your knuckles, before motioning for you to lay down. “I’ll take the floor.” 

You tightened your grip on his hand. If he really wanted to, he could have broken away easily. Instead, he paused, eyebrows raised and waiting for an explanation. “Not much of a favor if your back hurts in the morning from sleeping on the floor” you shrugged. 

“Only if you’re sure-”

“Just get in the damn bed Logan.” He grinned, pulling back the covers and slipping into the bed. You followed shortly after, and slipped your hand back into his. The both of you laid in silence for a few moments, adjusting to your new arrangement. You were nice and toasty warm, able to feel the heat radiating off him under the covers. You were in the middle of working up the courage to actually use your powers, when soft snores began to emanate from the other side of the bed. You chanced a glance towards him only to find his lashes gently fanned out over his cheeks, and his chest rising and falling with his steady breathing. 

After a few moments, you followed him into dreamland. In the morning, you woke up with his arm firmly around your waist, feeling fully rested for one of the first times in your life. Again, you waited for the awkwardness to come, for your face to flush and your stammer to pick back up, but you were left waiting.

feedback is very much appreciated, as I’ve never written for Logan before! let me know what you think <3

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[mostly-imagines]

The Venus Drug

jason todd x afab!reader

aka the side effects of a run-in with poison ivy

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), sex pollen so its inherently not strictly speaking consensual, oral (f & m receiving), free use, overstimulation

A clattering in your living room has you blearily shifting awake. The dark of your bedroom takes your eyes longer to adjust to than usual, it feels like. You peer at the time, finding it only just past midnight. Even on the good nights, midnight is pretty early for him to be coming back. 

Though, there’s really little concern of the noise-maker being anyone but your boyfriend, he’s set up too many security measures and failsafes around your apartment for anyone to get lucky waltzing in. It does worry you though that he is making such a clamor when he’s usually so careful about entering silently as to not wake you. 

You’re about to climb out of bed to investigate when the door creaks open, though light doesn’t flood through the crack like you’d expected.

Jason stumbles into the doorway, falling into a lean against the wall for support.

You sit up quickly, instantly on alert. “What’s wrong?”

He takes one glance at you and immediately averts his gaze to the floor like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to.

You look down, thrown by his behavior, only to see your usual nighttime attire: one of his shirts over underwear.

You blink back up at him, furrowing your brow. “Jay?”

You can vaguely make out a sigh from him, “Fuck…” he squeezes his eyes shut. “Ivy..”

Ah. This has happened before to the others, but this is the first time you’ve seen him affected by it. You’re prepared for it, though you hadn’t anticipated that it would be so seemingly debilitating.

“What can I do?” You try not to look as concerned as you feel but you can’t say with confidence that it’s working.

He slowly pushes himself off the doorframe, heading wearily towards the bathroom. He tugs his shirt off with difficulty, tossing it to the side. “Nothing, nothing..I jus’ need to…” he takes a deep breath, “Get it out of my system..” He’s trying to be comforting but the pain in his voice rids it of all believability.

You frown, watching him linger. “That seems like the exact kind of thing I could help with.”

His eyes close helplessly as his head falls back, “You can’t, baby.”

“Why not?”

He sighs, “I’m not…as in control as I’d like to be right now.”

Your pout deepens. This is something you’re working on with him—trusting both you and himself with vulnerability. Especially when it comes to situations where he feels like he’s putting you in a vulnerable place too. But you trust him with your whole being and you want him to know it. “That’s okay.”

“No,” he shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you say resolutely. “I trust you.”

He wavers, “No, I…No. I can’t.”

He says that, but he’s still not retreating to the bathroom. Instead, he loiters awkwardly, like he’s caught between decisions.

You feel a twinge of heartache in your chest, “Does it hurt?”

He’s quick to answer, “I’m alright.” Though he doesn’t try his hardest to sell you on the idea. 

Your face pans, “That’s not what I asked.”

“I—” he huffs, conceding. “Yeah. Yes.”

You extend your arms out, beckoning him towards you. It clearly goes against his better judgment but he can’t help himself from moving closer to you. An evident testament to the strength of Ivy’s work.

You take his hands in yours, looking up at him with begging eyes, “Let me help you? Please?”

Up close like this you can really see how labored his breathing is and how pained he looks. You sit up onto your knees, pulling his hands closer. “I wanna take care of you. Let me help my boy out. He deserves it.”

He steels his jaw, trying to replenish his rapidly weakening resolve. He exhales heavily before grabbing your chin, eyes serious. “Look at me,” he says sternly. “You stop me if I’m too rough.”

You nod adamantly, “I will.”

You fidget with the loop of his belt, waiting for permission. 

He squeezes your hands slowly, head bowing. “Help me, sweetheart.”

You’re instantly up on your feet, maneuvering him to switch places with you and sit down on the bed. You kneel down in front of him, undoing the clasp on his belt.

You tug his belt off, letting it clatter on the floor before freeing him the rest of the way. To your surprise, his eyes remain on you rather than your actions. He brushes your hair out of your face haphazardly, murmuring, “Pretty fucking girl..”

You keen at his words, fighting the urge to pause and rub up against him. Instead, you busy yourself and lick a line up his cock, immediately feeling his body stutter. You lick another stripe, this time adding a kiss afterwards.

His hands squeeze at the comforter under him, “Baby, please.”

You give a short nod before taking him in your mouth completely. He groans like it’s automatic, body practically vibrating in place. You rest your hands over his and he’s quick to turn his own over to hold onto yours.

It only works as a momentary distraction, as one of his hands leaves your grasp to move your hair from blocking his view again, petting your head nicely as you suck him off. “Oh, good girl. My good girl.”

He babbles when he gets overwhelmed during sex, though it doesn’t happen often. And especially not like this.

“Fucking—” he stammers, “God, you’re so—”

Frankly, the image of you on your knees in front of him, so willing and eager to help him out…it’s killing him. He’s putting absolutely all of his remaining restraint into not taking over and fucking your mouth the way he wants to—and it shows—so you’re doing your best to take as much of him in your mouth as you can and using your hand to compensate for the rest.

His head bobs back as his hand falls to a rest atop your head. His breathing is deep and heavy and you can see the way his abs flex through his restraint. His hand briefly fists up before stuttering back to lay open-palmed on your head.

“Oh, baby—” he lets out a gravelly moan and his arms nearly give out from holding him up as he comes.

You happily collect it on your tongue and he audibly groans when you swallow.

He’s quick to pull you up off the floor and place you on the bed so he can clamor over you. You fall back to have your arms hold you up as he finds your lips. 

“Take your shirt off,” he tells you breathlessly. “Please.”

You oblige without hesitation as he kisses and gropes along your torso. You don’t realize what he’s doing until he’s at face level with your underwear, fingers dipping under the band.

You sit up onto your hands, “Jay, you don’t have to—”

He shakes his head, “‘M not gonna hurt you,” he mumbles, very adamant. “Not doin’ it.”

It’s been a long running personal requirement for Jason to thoroughly prep you in some way before fucking you, and he’s right for it—you would definitely get hurt if he didn’t.

You feel conflicted about it now though, like it’s not fair of you to let him pay such mind to you when he’s quite literally in unprecedented pain.

But he slips your underwear down without hesitation, not wasting any time in getting to work. He doesn’t start with his usual teasing and build-up, instead he goes straight into licking at your core, eyes closed and strands of white hair stuck to his forehead. 

He hooks one hand around your knee and the other wraps around your thigh, pulling you closer. He used the newfound proximity to lap at you with more concentration and purpose, quite literally devouring you. You struggle to keep your breathing in tune with the rest of your body, not having been prepared for so much so quickly.

He’s eating you out like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, not giving himself any time to breathe or even think about anything else. You’re about to push him away so that he’ll take a breath or two when he moans into your cunt, instantly veering your brain straight off course.

He breaks from licking your pussy only to change course in favor of sucking on your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses every few seconds. You thread your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him as best you can.

This is a new experience for both of you in terms of intensity and desperation and it has you feeling like you were injected with the same toxin he was. It throws you so completely out of your senses that you don’t even notice that he’s rutting into the bed as he kisses you. Though, odds are he doesn’t realize he’s doing it either.

His grip on you tightens as he gets more fervent, the dig from the indents of his fingers promising to bruise. His eyes flutter as he makes out with your pussy, little mewls making their way through periodically.

“Jay—” you cry, tugging harder than you’d meant to on his hair. He hums in response, letting you know that he’s here, he’s with you, he’ll take care of you. 

Even high out of his mind he can still read you like a book, and can tell that you’re nearing your peak. He gets meditated and precise with his actions, leading you right up to the edge. You whimper again and he begins to rut harder.

It takes only a few moments of this repetition for you to briefly tense up before you start to tremble, heat flooding through your body. The saccharine new taste of your cum motivates him to reach his own end, moaning into you and sending a second wave of rapture over you.

You exhale heavily as his forehead drops against your stomach, catching his breath. It doesn’t take him very long. 

You can just start to realize the persistent trembling in your thighs when he licks another stripe down your pussy. You whine, sitting up on your elbows and squirming higher up on the bed.

He pulls back murmuring, “Sorry.” He kisses the inside of your thigh, “Sorry.”

You watch as he pushes up on his forearms to look at you proper, seeming almost dizzy. “I need..I need…” his shoulders drop. “Please.”

You just nod, giving him permission to do whatever he needs. 

He pulls you up by the waist and tugs you into him as close as he can, kissing you hard. You move to hold his jaw in your hands, stroking your thumb across lightly. He leans you backwards to lay you down flat, head just below the pillows. He folds over you easily, kisses becoming less and less intentional in placement as his hands stroke and squeeze up your sides. 

He pulls away only to glance down as he lines himself up with you, pushing in slowly. He peers back up at your face as he does, watching carefully to make sure it doesn’t hurt.

You hold onto his shoulders as you take him, the stretch feeling significant but familiar.

He kisses your cheek once he’s fully inside and begins to rock in and out of you slowly. The pace picks up quickly as he continues to makeout with you.

A particularly intense thrust has you wrapping your arms fully around the frame of his shoulders, hugging him close to you. He immerses himself in the crook of your neck, fucking you with deeper and more punctuated strokes than you can remember.

“Jay,” you gasp as he places firm kisses across your jaw like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that he fucking loves you.

His thrusts gradually get faster and while it’s perfectly overwhelming for you, it doesn’t seem to be enough for him. 

He huffs before pulling out of you without warning. He untangles your arms from around him so he can flip you over to lay on your stomach. He pulls you back up just as quickly, arm wrapped around your torso, leaving you to hold yourself up by your hands and knees as he kisses on your neck messily.

This time when he reenters you he continues on with his previous pace, taking you by surprise once again. Your mouth is practically hanging open as he ruts into you, successfully sending your thoughts straight out of your head.

He lays kisses down your spine murmuring, “I love you.” He moves in and out of you without falter, “Thank you, thank you..”

His hands hold your waist in place, keeping you steady for both of your sakes. Multiple times his grip tightens only to loosen the second he realizes how hard he’s squeezing you. You don’t mind though, you’ve never had any trouble revering marks left behind by him before. 

“It’s—” you pant, “It’s okay—” you reach back to put your hand over his, pressing down.

His brash hold returns upon the permission, more assured. “Good girl, good—” he praises, “So fucking good for me, baby.”

He reaches around and dips his free hand below your hips, beginning to rub circles on your clit.

Your arms shake and you worry that they’re nearing buckling, but, attuned with you as ever, his arm wraps tighter around your middle, pulling you up a bit higher so that you barely have to mind any of the work of holding yourself up.

He makes sure to support your weight nicely, holding you in a way that he knows won’t be uncomfortable for you. His circles never cease, never falter from that just right pace he’s come to know like the back of his hand.

You’re brought to your high by the arrival of his, struggling to keep your head upright as you come.

He thumps down over to the side to lay on his back, chest heaving. You pick up your head to look over at him, finding that he doesn’t look nearly as exhausted as you’re sure you do. Still, he breathes heavy, pupils blown out and sweaty.

You notice how his fists clinch up and loosen a couple times over, trying to convince himself that he’s done, he doesn’t need any more from you, he’s all better now. 

But you also notice that he’s still hard. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, dead set on not looking at you and having to confront that he really, really does still need you.

So you force yourself to sit up, placing a hand on his chest for balance. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to relax for your sake but that’s the last thing you want him to do.

You push yourself up and over his waist, perching over his abs and brushing his hair back from his forehead. You press a kiss to his head before sitting up on your knees and reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance.

You plant a hand on his chest as you sink down onto him with a deep breath.

“You’re okay,” he rasps, watching in mesmerization as you start to lift your weight up slowly off of your thighs and sink back down.

“I’m okay,” you confirm, guiding his hands to your hips. The presence of his hands on you feels like reassurance and works wonders to help you pick back up some of your energy.

The pace you latch onto feels good, for both of you, but you realize fairly quickly that you’re not going to be able to go as fast as he needs you to.

His hands slip down from your hips to your upper thighs, helping you bob up and down. It doesn’t take long for this to give way to him grabbing your hips and moving you entirely himself.

You watch his arm muscles flex as he shifts you around, leaving you awed with the way he shows virtually no struggle while shifting the majority of your body weight up and down over and over again. Just being completely manhandled by him has you letting out an involuntary moan, letting your head fall back.

“There you go, there you go,” he coos, motions without cessation.

He has you riding him faster than you ever have before and it becomes overwhelming quickly. But Jason, ever the caretaker, coaches you through it, encouraging your every movement.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, watching the way your breasts bounce. “Perfect fucking thing.”

The acclaim in his voice makes your eyes shut and your diaphragm shake, all while he continues to fuck you senseless. 

Your body stutters above him, hands flying onto his for support. He comes only moments later, seemingly the only thing that could break his concentration for ragdolling you. The following release of your hips has you slumping over onto his chest, face laying in the bend of his neck.

He turns his head wearily to you, rubbing a hand up your back. “‘R you okay?” he slurs out.

You hum feebly, eyes unable to stay open.

“Can I…?” It takes hearing the words for you to realize that somehow he’s still hard.

You try to nod hard enough that it can be distinguished against the heaviness of your breathing, though you can’t be sure you were successful.

He sighs, “Baby…”

His hangup is immediately clear to you, even through the haze of being post-three orgasms in less than thirty minutes. It takes real, measurable effort to get this singular word through, but you manage.

“Yes,” you breathe out. A ‘yes’ is going to have to work for him because you don’t have a shot at stringing together anymore syllables.

He places a gentle hand on the back of your head, his other landing on your lower back. He slowly starts to fuck you again, this time much softer than before. It’s calm enough that you can settle into the fatigue in your bones and start to feel the exhaustion sweep over your consciousness.

In between kisses laid sweetly upon your neck, He murmurs affections to you the whole time, though you lose almost all of them to sleep. He moves you around a bit more as he goes, though careful to be gentle enough that he doesn’t disturb your peace anymore than he has to.

By the time he’s done he’s bordering on completely out of it and can’t do anything but collapse atop you, nuzzling into your neck.

There’s a pretty consistent pattern that can be found when helping him deal with post-patrol aftermath. Scarecrow’s never any good, his pop-ups tend to end in winding Jason down from panic. There’s always injuries after Bane and invariably there’ll be a mess from Clayface. Half the time he has to get an entirely new suit after a run-in with Killer Croc. So as far as Gotham’s problems go, Poison Ivy isn’t the worst. 

the morning after epilogue

✨ oh you don’t reblog? that’s…no, that’s totally fine for you! im so happy for you…i mean its just been out of fashion for like three seasons but yeah, that shows a lot of…confidence! ✨

[buckyalpine]

Bucky knows you’re faking

Bucky knows you’re faking. He has no idea where you met this guy or why you’re still with him, in fact Bucky almost feels sorry for him. Because this guy thinks he’s doing a good job. He thinks he’s making you cry from pleasure, he thinks he’s pulling orgasms from you left right and center but Bucky knows.

Becuase he’s heard you. Fucking smelled you.

In your room, all by yourself.

He hears every moan and whimper, all those noises you can’t hold back. The filthy squelching of your pussy making a mess on the sheets is a sound unmatched. You always smell so good after and he can’t get over how soft and sweet you are, all fucked out with a quiver in your voice, not realizing he knows exactly what you’ve been up to with those pretty fingers between your legs.

He’s seen the way you practically glow afterwards, a shy smile on your face, acting like you weren’t moaning like a bitch in heat minutes ago. Always when it’s well past midnight, coming down for a snack, a thin sheen of sweat still covering your skin. He’s usually in the kitchen, having to pretend his cock isn’t aching after hearing how pretty you sound, how desperate and loud you get when you think no one can hear you.

But he can.

Bucky grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, smirking when he heard your less than enthusiastic sounds and silence a few minutes later. He watched carefully as you made your way into the kitchen with nothing but a flimsy robe covering you, eyes growing wide when you realized you weren’t alone.

“Have a fun night?” Bucky cocked an eyebrow, struggling to keep his eyes on your face and not the loose knot, so close to letting your robe fall open, giving him access to that pretty body-

“Oh-yes” you shrugged, suddenly feeling hot all over realizing Bucky had probably heard you, “I-um-I don’t think I’ll see him again”

“Why not” Bucky prodded, his curiosity piqued, self-restraint faltering, he couldn't hold back, not when that poor excuse of a robe was begging to be ripped off. “He can’t make you cum, can he princess”

“What?” You stared at Bucky like a deer caught in headlights, frozen on the spot, mouth gaping while he chuckled.

“I said-” he got up from his place at the kitchen island, biting his lip while backing you against the counter, your eyes growing wide feeling his hard, poorly contained bulge press onto you. "He can't make you cum? Can he?"

“I-" You stammered, gripping onto the edge of the counter, surely you were dreaming, there's no way this was really happening, all the fantasies you've thought of coming to life-

“Oh baby” Bucky cooed at your flustered state, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “Don’t get all shy on me now bunny. Was that it? Did he make you cum?”

You shook your head, still nearly frozen like a baby deer, whimpering when Bucky groaned, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Knew you were faking it princess, I've heard you, y'know" Bucky smirked at your gasp, clearly mortified that he'd heard you during your most intimate moments. "Y'sound so pretty when you touch yourself baby"

"Bucky" You whined, not sure what you were begging for, arousal pooling between your legs, spreading your knees slightly to press yourself against his thigh.

"Tell me to stop" his jaw was clenched, gripping onto the single strange of restraint he had, his fingers toying with the knot of your robe.

"D-don't stop" You let out a shuddered breath, shivering when your robe was thrown off before you could blink, Bucky's lips smashing onto yours. His hand gripped the back of your neck, his tongue claiming your mouth as his, teeth nipping and sucking your lip. He lifted you onto the cool marble counter with ease, metal fingers swiping through your folds, gathering your slick before shoving them in his mouth, groaning at the taste.

"You're fuckin' sweet bunny" He didn't give you a chance to respond, prying your thighs apart and dipping down to lick a fat stripe through your soaked cunt before latching onto your clit. You cried out in pleasure, his wide shoulders keeping your legs spared apart.

"B-Bucky!!" Your head was thrown back when he shoved two fingers into you, curling and fucking them into you, moaning when you grabbed onto the roots of his hair, tugging harder the closer you got.

"Already sound so pretty baby" He let out a dark chuckle, kissing your pouty face when he pulled away just before you reached your high, tugging down his sweats to pull his cock out, "Bet you'd sound even better when you're stuffed, hm?"

"Please" You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, practically humping yourself on him, desperate to be filled. His cock was curved towards his tummy, the swollen head dripping with precum. There was something about him still being fully dressed while you were stark naked in the middle of the kitchen that aroused you more, knowing damn well anyone could walk by at any given moment.

"You need a fat cock to cum around, don't you bunny? My bunny's such a little slut, she can't cum unless she has a fat cock fucking her brains out?" He taunted, loving the way you were nothing more than a babbling mess already, moaning when you felt his tip catch against your fluttering entrance.

"Please Bucky, need it"

"I know baby, I know, my poor baby needs cock, doesn't she" His eyes locked with yours as he started to breech your tight hole, your breath catching in your throat at the stretch.

"Breathe, s'just me baby, swear you got my cock so hard-shit" He hissed as he pushed himself to the hilt, pulling out at an agonizing slow pace, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Faster Bucky, please-please need you" You tried to get him to move but he shook his head, feeling you flutter around him.

"First tell me what you call be princess, what do you call me when you're all alone with these sweet fingers"

Had Bucky not been holding onto you, you would have fainted; you had no idea he'd also heard the nights where you desperately moaned and came over and over again thinking of him. Bucky smirked against your skin, slowing down the drag of his cock again, snapping his hips suddenly making you squeal.

“C’mon darling, what was that you called me”

“DADDYY” you wailed, wrapping your thighs around his waist when he stated to pound you with a bruising grip around your waist, the clinks of glasses in the cupboards growing louder the harder he fucked you on the counter. "OH-GOD-D-DADDY"

"That's right, daddy's fuckin' you baby, makes me so hard when you call me that" Bucky groaned, thrusting faster, already on the brink of an orgasm. He could feel his cock swell each time you moaned or whimpered, his hand sneaking down to rub your clit.

"N'look at this precious clit, s'this what you're always playing with baby? Always rubbing this needy little button, thinking on one can hear you?"

"F-fuck Buckyyyy" Your eyes rolled back, tears streaming down your cheeks when he rubbed you faster, your first orgasm choking his cock without warning. You couldn't formulate words, letting out silent screams, blinking pleasure consuming you.

"That's it baby, moan for me, cum for me, cum for your daddy baby, know you've never cum for anyone else, go on n'cum for daddy, make daddy proud" Bucky looked feral, grunting with each thrust, desperately holding off his own orgasm, needing to feel you cum around him over and over again.

"OH-DADDY-D-DON'T ST-STOPP"

"Look at you baby, such a good girl for daddy, giving daddy all of her cum" Bucky's eyes were wild, staring at where he cock split you open, his length and trimmed hair covered in your creamy mess. "Daddy wants all of his baby's cream sweets"

"OH FUCCCKK" You wailed, your juices squirting all over his crotch, making it impossible for Bucky to hold off any more as you clung into him.

"So fuckin' proud of you baby, made daddy's cock feel so good, y'know that? Y'make daddy so hard, so horny, you're gonna make daddy cum so hard angel, m'gonna cum so hard for you, Fuck-gonna fill you up bunny-take it-take my cum-fuck-FUCCKK" Bucky roared against your neck as streams of cum started to fill you, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you. You were limp in his hold, passed out from pleasure, your combined mess dripping down your thighs and onto the floor.

You didn't even realize you were tucked under the warmed blankets, wrapped up in a pair of thick, muscular arms, Bucky's large chest acting as a pillow. You nuzzled into him while he softly petted you hair, blissfully unaware it was just the start of a very long night.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[cockaiine]

༊*·˚FUCK AROUND .ᐟ

you drive satoru home after a night clubbing, but he's waayy too drunk to watch over his words. what happens when he makes a confession? will he regret it later....or not?

ɞ⁺ contains : best friend!satoru gojo x fem! reader, drunk satoru at fist, suggestions of drunk sex, slight mention of car crash, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (stay safe n wrap it up!), reader gets called baby, riding position, semi-public sex (satoru has maids)

ɞ⁺ w.c : 3.2k-ish

ɞ⁺ note : came back from the dead yayy. thank u @screampied for beta reading i was too tired to look at it another time skfjklsdjg,, n thank u @satoruwiki i had a stroke writing the dialogue

You never imagined Satoru would consume that much alcohol, truly, you didn't.

“Mmm... give me a kiss... just one…” your best friend mumbles, his words slurred as he collapses into the car seat. In that moment, you're immensely grateful you didn't indulge in as much alcohol as you had initially planned; it's evident he's in no condition to drive you home.

“Satoru…” you sigh, shutting the door to the driver's seat firmly. “Please, spare me.”

The journey commences with a symphony of Satoru's complaints. He's a particularly whiny drunk, grumbling about the seatbelt, his discomfort in the car seat, and even about the moon, insisting it's following him. He just won't shut up, and you swear you'll poke his eye out. The street is shrouded in darkness, and you don’t own a driver's license; the last thing you need is an accident.

However, mercifully, he soon succumbs to a deep slumber, his face pressed against the cold windowpane.  You contemplate taking a picture to tease him with later, but ultimately decide against it.

When you finally arrive at his residence, the realization dawns on you that you have no means of getting home tonight. Summoning an Uber dressed in your current state past midnight doesn't strike you as particularly safe. Crashing at Satoru's seems like the more prudent option, unless he sobers up and offers to drive you home.

“‘Toru,” you poke his shoulder gently, “Satoru, come on, we're here.”

It takes several attempts to rouse him, but when he finally stirs, he startles, nearly banging his head against the window in the process.

“Huh-?” He seems marginally more coherent now; hopefully, he can manage to walk on his own. “Where are we?”

“Your place,” you reply wearily, fatigue seeping into your muscles, pleading for rest. “Come on, you spilled tequila all over yourself.”

“Did you drive?” His bleary eyes narrow slightly, heavy lids drooping.

“No,” you fib, “the car drove itself.”

“Oh,” he nods, a chuckle escaping you at his confusion. He appears on the verge of questioning further, but you beat him to it. Stepping out of the car barefoot, your heels abandoned in the backseat, you make your way to his side, opening the door.

“Come on. Can you walk?”

Satoru nods, lazily unbuckling his seatbelt and swinging his legs out into the open air. You wait outside the car as he lingers, half in, half out.

“Mm... you're looking real pretty, you know?” He remarks, causing you to roll your eyes, though a smile tugs at your lips.

“Stop that,” you giggle, feeling bashful under his gaze. You remind yourself he's still intoxicated, which somewhat explains his behavior.

What catches you off guard is when his hands find their way to your legs, fingers trailing subtly over the back of your thighs. You almost gasp at the unexpected touch, his innocent gaze meeting yours.

“Stop what?”

His slender fingers tug at the hem of your short dress. “This has been bothering me the whole night, you know? Standing in my way.”

“Satoru, you're drunk. Let's get you inside and—”

“Can't you feel it?” A frown mars his pink lips. “Are you that clueless? I've been trying to get with you for so long.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing with heat. You remind yourself that he doesn’t mean it. Heck, he probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying. So, you open your mouth to respond, but he interrupts by pushing himself up and out of the door, causing you to stumble backward.

“So?” Warmth seeps into the small of your back, his fingers tapping against the fabric of your dress.

You weigh the situation carefully. It's a tempting opportunity, one you've secretly hoped for, yet it doesn't feel right. Despite Satoru's partial sobriety, it's clear that proceeding would be a mistake.

“Satoru,” you murmur, taking a step back to create some semblance of space between you. “We'll discuss this when you're sober, okay?”

Fortunately, the awkwardness doesn't linger as he quickly drifts back into slumber.

By the next morning, Satoru recalls nothing of the previous night's events. He's back to his usual self, waking you with a coffee and no questions asked about why you're still there. It's endearing, in its own way, despite his loud and sometimes obnoxious demeanor. You've known Satoru for so long that you've weathered worse.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks as you return from the bathroom, clad in his oversized T-shirt and shorts. He doesn't mind; in fact, he seems to relish the sight, finding comfort in your relaxed appearance.

“Yeah…” you yawn, covering your mouth with one hand while grabbing the warm mug with the other. “Couldn't leave this morning because someone had a bit too much to drink.”

“Oh, please, I know you're just using that as an excuse to stay with me,” he teases, smirking as you shoot him a glare. “It's obvious.”

“Aren’t you cocky?” you retort, bringing the coffee to your lips. The brew is exactly to your liking, a detail Satoru always remembers. “You were so whiny last night, I swear. I should've brought Sugu’ along instead.”

“You wouldn't have,” he insists, persistent in his belief that you wanted to be with him, even when the night didn't unfold as planned. “Who could resist going clubbing with me? It's the ultimate experience. A million girls wish they had the chance.”

“I know, they were all over you,” you remark casually, setting your coffee down on the table in his spacious living room, fingers absentmindedly fixing your hair. He's taken aback by your words, vividly recalling the night's details. “You were such a whore. Every girl grinded on your dick. What an accomplishment.”

A hint of unease crosses his features. It hadn't occurred to him that he'd been dancing with other women while you were there with him. And if he was with other girls... what were you doing?

His thoughts are interrupted by your sudden burst of laughter at his expression, likening him to a sad puppy. “Oh god, your face,” you laugh, wiping away tears. “Relax, it was just a joke.”

Gojo scoffs, feigning nonchalance as he looks away in embarrassment. “I knew it was a joke,” he retorts defensively.

“Of course you did,” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“What else did I do last night?” Satoru's voice carries a hint of hesitation, embarrassed by his actions. “Did I say anything weird?”

Your breath catches in your throat, a pang of anxiety coursing through you as he seems almost convinced of his own folly. You silently pray he doesn't remember; there's no need to make things awkward for both of you.

“No?” You quirk a brow, “You just slept. You snore fucking loudly, by the way.”

He studies your face and you feign indifference, though the awkwardness hangs palpably in the air around you. He doesn't remember, you silently implore.

“So rude,” he tsks his tongue. The tension in the air dissipates as he teases you about your comment, and you both share a laugh, the momentary awkwardness melting away. He stands up, leaving you with a mixture of relief and amusement at the exchange.

You relieve the longest breath, one you didn’t realize you were holding. 

You're relieved that he's forgotten the events of the night, unwilling to broach the subject in case his words were not genuine, merely fueled by alcohol. Yet, a small, twisted part of you wishes you had accepted his offer last night, even as you despise yourself for such thoughts. He would have regretted it, you reason. Who knows where your friendship would stand if you had acted on such primal urges. You remind yourself that you're not some animal; you can control yourself.

Despite your initial intention to leave by nightfall, you know deep down that you'll end up spending the night at his place again. It's a pattern that seems inevitable.

The day went by fast, and before you know it it’s already dinner time. Satoru stepped into the living room, where you’ve been unproductively lying down for what seemed to be hours on end. “Do you wanna go out to eat?”

“Hmm?” You look up from the phone, turning to face him in a position similar to a cat’s. “I don’t have anything to wear. Can we just order something instead?”

Satoru hums, walking towards the couch you lay on. With a huff you sit up, giving him space to slump himself manspread next to you. “I’m fucking starving”

“Where’s your cook?” You giggle. For a grown man, your blue-eyed friend’s cooking skills are less than average. With some luck, he can make scrambled eggs. Not that he ever needed to, his cook used to be a chef in a big restaurant. Considering the kind of money Satoru has, you’re guessing he left his job for a better opportunity; cooking meals for a single man. “Did he run away? Can’t blame him.”

Satoru shoots you a glare, containing his smile. “He opened a restaurant and left.”

“So he ran away,” You confirm, leaning your face dangerously close, “couldn’t handle you.”

“Are you implying I’m too much to handle?” he mimics your movement, nearly breathing in your face.

“You know I’m right,” you’re trying your best to stay put, but the way your breath hitches at the proximity does not help. You can only pray the heat you feel creeping on your face is not obvious on the out.

“You wanna put that theory to the test?” He quirks a brow, white lashes fluttering in the form of blinks and you’re nearly convinced he’s trying to charm you. “You know, handling someone comes in many forms.”

You cringe at his words, scoffing and turning away to hide your embarrassment. 

Satoru boo’s at you, “coward. You’re so boring.” 

“You’re so eager,” You retort, standing up and stretching your back, trying to keep space before you lose all form of restraint.

“Oh no you don’t,” You hear. Before you react you're pulled back to the couch. A gasp erupts from you when you fall onto the cushion, body too close to his own.

Heat rises, and silence falls. It’s not awkward, no. Just… tense. 

“You’re a terrible liar, you know?” He mutters, voice so sultry it makes your heart drop. It’s such a drastic change from his previous teasing manner. Although that stupid smirk remains. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” your voice comes out a whisper, a lot softer than you expect it to, surprising both you and him. You want to push him off you, tell him you’re best friends and this isn’t heading in the right direction. But you’re too old to care, too desperate to care. You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long now. You can’t lose it again.

“You do,” He isn’t taking arguments. “I remember last night very clearly actually…”

One finger tips over the exposed skin of your knee and up, whatever the shorts you wear leave out, tantalizing you and sending shivers down your spine. You gulp, eyes widening. He remembers..? 

“I’m surprised you didn’t take your chance,” he hums, looking down at where his finger meets with your skin. “So… wasteful.”

“What do you suggest I have done?” You tilt your head to meet his eyes, emboldened. 

His eyes meet yours, lips parted for a second, almost curious. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

Before you can change your mind, his mouth closes upon yours. He doesn’t give you time to process the situation, tongue invading your mouth while his hands take the chance to wrap around your middle.

Your hands find place on his shoulder, colder fingers rushing to the buttons of his shirt. He nearly bites your tongue, muscles dancing in no particular rhythm. He tastes like mint and lust. Exactly how you imagined he would.

He pulls away with a heavy breath when his shirt is unbuttoned. “Did you call me eager?”

“You’re so much sexier with your mouth shut,” you huff, feeling his palms sneak past the waistband of the shorts. 

“You hurt me, you know?” Satoru chuckles, one warm hand finding your jaw to bring your focus back to his face instead of the shit he wore. “Keep your eyes on mine, hm?”

There’s an effect he has on you, bringing out primal needs you thought you had buried well. “Or what?”

He brings down the shorts in one fast movement, earning a yelp from you. He chuckles, looking down at the thong you’d worn last night. “Came prepared, huh? How cute.”

Rolling your eyes, you move to straddle him. “You think you’re so funny–”

“I am,” He interrupts, groping the flesh of your ass. “That’s what got me here.”

You don’t care to deny his words, kissing him like you’re starved. You feel his cock harden against you, arousal evident by the way he groans into his lips.

His hands roam your body freely while his mouth explores the warmth of your mouth. He traces the edge of your bra, teasing the skin acing to be touched. He’s been waiting for this for very long now; to taste you, to feel you, to have you. It’s his goal, and he’s finally getting there.

“Fuck- Satoru,” You breathe. He watches your face, the string of saliva connecting you to him. He’s seen your face in dreams, but it didn’t look this good. He feels the adrenaline rush at the thought that this is caused by him. He is making you look like that. This is all for him.

“Yeah?” He asks, lifting the shirt over your head.

“I need it,” there’s despair in your voice. He feels a need to satisfy it. He plans to, at least. “Please.”

“So needy,” he smiles as you unzip his pants, pulling his hardened cock out of the boxers. “No prep?”

“Can’t,” You answer mindlessly, too focused on pumping your hand over the glorious length. He’s beautiful down there, making a part of you wish you’d done this earlier. But you don’t dwell on it, too enamored by his leaking tip. 

He grunts, biting his lip and throwing his head back. You watch his reaction, propping yourself on your knees. “Can I put it in, ‘toru?”

He huffs, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. “What are you waiting for?” his fingers run down from your waist to your hips, slowly drawing towards your thong. You hiss a breath when he slips his thumb under the fabric, feeling your heat before pushing the cloth to the side. “Go ahead.”

Your hips lower, feeling his tip against your fold. Your movement is slow, a little too slow for his liking. Satoru is no patient man, his grip on your hips tightens, pulling you down with force.

A loud moon escapes you at the suddenness, walls struggling to accommodate the vast stretch. It feels bigger than it looks, you realize, chest heaving under the pressure. You forgot to get a condom, but that’s the last thing on your mind right now. Nails dig into his shoulder, pushing your head against his chest to take a breath.

“Fuh-fuck,” You hiss, “too big.” 

Satoru hums, running his hands over your skin to coax you. “Can’t do it?”

“I–I can,” you grit your teeth. He finds a way to be a pest even with a pussy to shut him up. So you lift your hips, as if to prove your point, moving them slowly at first.

“O-ah–” He shuts his eyes, focused on the ecstatic feeling of your insides squeezing him, swallowing him whole. It’s better than his hands, better than any other girl he’s fucked to pass time. In a way, it’s so… you.

You do your best to maintain pace, to not become too fast just yet. You know you’d orgasm too early if you did, but he feels too good not to.

“Oh, fuck, s’tight,” his jaw clenches as his hands move to unclasp the bra, allowing your breasts freedom. Satoru looks at you, body begging to be adorned. To be worshipped. It’s what you deserve, so his hands rest on your hips as he brings his mouth to your chest, bringing you closer for a taste.

He starts with a little lick to your nipple, earning him yet another loud whine. You’re too cute like that. One set of fingers finds your other breast, fondling it with care. Your senses tingle, making you breathe harder and move sloppier, looking to feel his tip hit a certain spot you’re yet to locate.

Satoru grunts, mouth latching into your hardened nipple, sucking on the sensitive skin. Arms cage his head, giving him better access.

“Fuck– ‘toru…” your whines are a prayer, moving faster around him. His length stretches you so well that you feel him against all the right places, massaging your insides so well you need to cover your mouth to stop the loud noises. Yet you see stars when you feel it, a moan you’re unable to control running freely out of your mouth. You know the maids can hear it, mauve even walked across the room without you noticing. But it doesn’t matter, they wouldn’t dare bring it up.

“Yeah,” His breath comes out strained, pinching your nipple before moving to suck the other one. “Just like that, keep moving for me, baby. I–fuck—I know you’re close”

“So good,” you whine, vision blurring as you huff and puff. “So good, ‘toru–!”

Your confession of ecstasy makes him feel his edge coming closer, yearning for release.

Lewd sounds of squelching and moans roam the room unsolicited; you no longer able to control yourself, and Satoru not wanting you to.

You tug at his hair, moaning pronographically. Your hips nearly buckle at the friction but you’re too busy chasing your high to notice, moving like your life depends on it. The knot in your stomach feels too fragile, too ready to let go.

When Satoru feels the way your hips tire, he puts his hands to work, gently guiding them up on his cock before slamming you back down with an aggressive motion.

You nearly scream, eyes widening as the knot you felt suddenly exploding. Your eyes widen as your neck cranes back, pussy tightening around him all at once then letting go. You twitch around him, clenching and unclenching around his length to the point where he can barely hold it anymore.

“I’m gonna– shit I’m gonna come,” He groans, teeth sinking into the skin of your nipple, the sudden stimulation making you jerk.

“Inside,” You moan, “please ‘toru– i want you to come inside.”

As if on cue, his cock twitches and he releases white ropes into your walls, filling you up with warmth. Your eyes roll back, too much ecstasy.

You ride out your high, coming out longer than you expected. When you’re done, you slump onto him. You don’t recall ever being this worn from one orgasm.

Satoru relaxes into the couch, head thrown back and thoughts empty.

Your breath comes hot against the sweaty skin of his neck. You lick your lips, suddenly thirsty.

“You good?” He whispers, almost afraid if he were too loud he’d ruin the serenity that’s fallen over you. 

“Mhm,” you hum, not yet moving off his length.

“Again?” He asks after a few seconds of silence. You hear that smirk in his voice. 

You giggle in response, pushing yourself up. He’s out of you with a ‘pop!’ and a soft groan. You huddle to the other side of the couch, trying to catch your breath. “Give me a second.”

“Can’t handle me?” He challenges, and you’re urged to move back and ride him until he passes out. Maybe you will, but you need a break. 

“You’re insufferable,” You groan in response, reaching for the half-empty cup of water you’ve previously set on the table. 

“Please,” he rolls his eyes. “You love it.”

[ragingbookdragon]

Whoever decided to ring her doorbell in the middle of a midnight thunderstorm was either a serial killer or a poor soul stuck out in the rain. Either way, she still felt sorry enough for whatever poor bastard was stuck outside and decided to open the door, but her expression dropped into annoyance when she saw the man leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he murmurs, gazing at her. “Long time no see.” She starts to close the door and he sticks his foot in it. “Wait, please, don’t close me out.”

“Like you did to me,” she retorts, opening the door. “What do you want, Simon?”

He glances back towards the rainy street and hefts his rucksack higher on his shoulder. “To stay the night.”

“Seriously?”

“Please?” He begs and she pauses—Simon Riley wasn’t a man who begged often.

She gazes at him a moment longer before sighing and opening the door. “Clothes and shoes off at the door. Mask too. You’re soaking wet.”

“What gave you that ‘int? The rainstorm?”

Turning, she shoots him a glare. “I’m letting you stay the night despite you breaking my heart. I’d be a little less sarcastic.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, starting to strip his clothes as he shuts the door behind him. He hands her his clothes, standing in his boxers, then cups the front of himself and asks. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of my clothes shoved in the back of your closet…would you?”

“Bottom drawer in the chest of drawers.”

“You kept my clothes? Aw, you still car—” he falls silent when she glares at him. “Going now.”

As she disappears into the laundry room, she calls out, “What did you do, walk here from the base? You know Birmingham has cabbies, right?”

“I’m not wasting money to drive twenty minutes when I can walk within an hour.”

“You know you’ll get sick from this.”

“Wive’s tale. Can’t get sick from the rain.”

“Smart-ass,” she retorts, shoving his clothes in the dryer.

He comes around the corner, leaning against the doorway with a hand towel thrown over his shoulder, short blonde hair sticking up in all directions, evident he’d dried off with it.

“That is a decorative towel, not for use.” She glares at him. “You know that too.”

“You moved the other towels.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” she mutters, then looks at him, eyes trailing down to where the sweatpants hung low on his hips. “Put a fucking shirt on, floozy.”

“I couldn’t find one,” he replies with a small smirk. “You must’ve used ‘em for fuel for the fireplace.”

She stands up straight and walks up to him. “Why are you here, Simon?” Her voice is quiet, calm, waiting.

He looks down at his feet, shifts his weight and murmurs, “Missed you.”

“You left me.”

“I know.”

“You start going to therapy yet?” She asks and he purses his lips.

“SAS doesn’t exactly offer therapy, y’know that, right? Not exactly ‘ow we operate.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You know I asked that friend of yours, what was his name? Soap? He said that the SAS offers routine psychiatric care and therapy. He also happened to mention you conveniently manage to get out of it every single time.”

Simon lets out a grunt and pinches his brow. “Soap can’t mind ‘is own fuckin’ business.”

“He’s your friend. And he was also drunk.” She waves a hand. “Regardless, you haven’t done the one thing I told you that you would have to do if you wanted to come back—no, when you came crawling back.”

“I don’t need therapy. I just want a second chance.” He shifts to his full height, looks at her with a pleading look. “Things were good between us, love. You know they were.”

“Sure, when you weren’t shutting down when you were hurting emotionally or running off to God knows where when you had a mission and didn’t leave me a notice.”

Simon sighs. “I was protectin’ you. I didn’t wanna drag you into all the shit I ‘ave to deal with on a daily. I didn’t want you to have to put up with…all of…”

She gives him a hard look. “Simon Riley, what part of me gave you the notion that I ever need to be protected or sheltered from what you do?”

He swallows thickly and gazes into her eyes. “Love…you’re too pure for me. What I do…you don’t need to know the horrors I’ve committed. You’re…you’re too beautiful for such things.”

“You mean how you kill people with no emotion? How you’ve taken lives with your bare hands? How you shove so much of yourself down into the black hole until there’s no humanity left but ‘Ghost’, the hollow killer?”

Simon stares at her, throat bobbing as he replies, “I can’t drag you to hell with me, it would kill me, love. What if—”

“Do you know the moment I knew I was in love with you?” She interrupts and he falls silent. “I was sick that one day a year ago, bad sick. And you told me not to go into work, but I didn’t listen and when I came home early, I could barely walk straight.” She places a hand on her hip. “And you helped me into the bathroom. Ran a bath in the dark, lit a few candles and you bathed me. Washed my hair. Took care of me. You were so gentle and so loving. Like a priest tasked with cleaning his alter, you cleansed me and made me feel safe.”

He shifts uncomfortably but his body language is anything but repulsed; it’s soft. “You started cryin’ when I was washin’ your hair. Thought I got soap in your eyes. But you said you just felt so loved.” He smiles then. “You were like a kitten really. Could barely lift your head. So tired and weak.”

“Mhm. And then you tucked me into bed and crawled beneath the covers with me. Laid up beside me, never once acted sexual. Just…caring.” She looks at him. “Do you remember what I said to you before I went to sleep?”

“No,” he mutters but he looks up at the ceiling and she knows he’s lying, it’s his tell-tale sign.

She gives him the benefit of the doubt and closes the distance between them, lays her hands on his chest, and says, “I said, ‘This is the real man beneath all that coldness. The real Simon. The one I knew I loved more than anything. No matter what.’”

Simon shudders beneath her touch, feels weak in his knees like he might drop to his and worship at her feet, beg for forgiveness like a sinner in confession. His chest aches, tightening as the words tear violently at his chest, a reminder that he left one of the only good things to ever come into his life, all because he was too afraid to let the walls come down, too afraid to be vulnerable, too afraid to risk being hurt—because if she hurt him, he’d never come back from it. In the end, he’d felt like a fool trying to protect a damsel who never needed saving in the first place; and he was left with the realization that she’d been protecting him the entire time.

“I know what you do, Simon. I know it’s hard, even if you don’t think it is. I know that no matter how you push your humanity down into that hole that it’s still there. I know killing someone takes something from you every time but, Simon, I’m not your enemy. I love you.” Her eyes are calm, but her voice is firm. “And I will not stand on the outside of the lines under some guise of protection. You either be upfront and honest with me about everything or you leave, and you don’t come back.”

Simon knows she’s asking him to choose now, and he feels that creeping anxiety rise in his throat like bile until he manages, “Can…can we talk about everything in the morning?”

She sighs and pulls her hands away. “Yeah, I guess so. Sheets and blankets are in the hall closet. You know where the couch is.”

“You’re not going to let me sleep in the bed?” He sounds incredibly offended.

“Couch, Riley.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, but he can’t help but smile when she sets the bedding out on the couch for him. “Goodnight, love,” he murmurs as she passes, and her shoulders tense and she waves a hand.

“Goodnight, Simon.”

He sits on the couch for a few moments, watches the rain splatter against the window, the clock ticking on the wall, before he pulls out his phone and simply types, “I love you,” and sends it.

It’s quiet for a solid ten seconds before he hears, “You absolute bastard!” From the bedroom followed by, “Get in here!”

Simon gives a victory dance as he clears his throat and attempts to look innocent as he steps into her bedroom; she glowers and points to the other side. “You’re on that side.”

“You can make me,” he retorts and crawls into the middle of the bed, groaning when all the bones in his body snap and pop.

She rolls her eyes and goes back to her book, but after a moment, she shifts against the headboard, getting comfortable again. Simon lifts his head, watches her, then he moves and lays his head in her lap, his arms wrapped around her hips under the pillows behind her. Her eyes rise to the wall in front of her and she stares unamusedly at it before she switches the book into her other hand and rests her right hand at the back of his neck, gently thumbing the juncture of his spine and skull. He groans beneath her touch, shifts himself so that she has control over moving him, body going slack when she scratches her nails into his scalp.

“You’re like a cat,” she mutters, feeling his lips turn up against her thigh.

“Meow,” he mimics, and she snorts, feeling him move until his head is pressed into her stomach, face turned so she can see the right profile.

He watches until she puts the book down on her nightstand and turns into him; they gaze at each other, and his eyes gently shut when she cups his face, thumbs brushing over his features.

“You know I’m giving you another chance, don’t you?”

Simon swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “…yeah.”

“But we’ve gotta change. Or else we’ll end up back where we were before we broke up.”

“I know.” He opens his eyes and looks at her. “I’ve missed you, love.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she murmurs, bending down to press her lips to his forehead. “Doesn’t feel the same without you haunting my apartment.”

His lips turn up in a smile as she pulls back and lays on the pillows; Simon rises and crawls up her body, his nose brushing hers as he whispers, “I’ll do better for you. I’ll change. I swear it.”

“Yeah?”

His gaze turns solemn in a way she’s never seen before as he replies, “On their grave, I will.”

She smiles softly at him, pulls him down so his face is tucked in her neck, and replies, “Get some sleep.”

“I love you,” he mutters against her warm skin, arms tucked safely around her, body weight comfortably on her. “I love you more than the world.”

“I love you,” she says back, reaching up to turn off the lamp on the nightstand.

[yoditopascal]

Sweetest Pie

summary: The Worst Logan isn’t so bad after all. (logan/wolverine x fem black reader)

content warning: Wade is your best friend that’s a warning all on its own, some angst (like literally the tiniest bit) cussing, mutual pining, making out, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, dirty talking? (I’m so bad at writing it lmaoo), creampie, actual pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it fellas), dacryphilia, post DP&W, breaking the bed, scent kink, overstimulation, he technically sniffs your underwear??, Deadpool being Deadpool, MINORS DNI

a/n: The Sweetest Pie by Megan the Stallion is playing in the background while y’all fuck, that’s all.

tag list: @allmyn1ghts @figsnpassionfruits @dragonqueen89 @shebby-the-webby

Ducking down out of the way, Wade just barely makes it out of the line of fire as a glass mug hits the wall behind him, shattering on impact.

“You wanna run that by me again bub?”

“That was my favorite mug!”

“Repeat what you fucking said!” He snarls, hand balled into tight fists, it’s taking everything in his power not to maul the idiot with his claws….again

“All I said was you're more pent up than a nun doing squats in a cucumber field!” Wade said looking back at the wall, there was already a dent forming, one of many that had been popping up since the older mutant had decided to move in with him.

It's been 3 months since Logan started living with Wade and Blind Al and he’s about fucking had it. Laura had moved out after the first month, needing her own space, but she still frequently visited, he honestly was tempted to join her but figured she wouldn’t want her old man around all the time cramping her style.

Logan could feel a headache coming on as he pinched the bridge of his nose as Wade spoke again.

“You, my little honey badger, are lacking in the hanky panky department and no amount of self loving in the bathroom mirror at midnight is gonna fix that.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” He asked, sometimes he felt like instead of forming actual sentences Wade just put a bunch of random shit together so he could hear himself speak.

“Oh my gooood you’re so old, I’m talking about sex grandpa, you know, fucking? The horizontal hula? Bumping uglies? Filling the cream donut?”

“Stop.” Logan said with a look of disgust.

“I can smell your sexual frustration from here.” Wade groaned. “You need to spend a little less time brooding around the house like you're a DC character, and maybe spend a little more time doing hot yoga.” He was as he holds up a finger and boops Logan on the nose.

Logan swats his hand away but Wade continues paying no mind to his attitude as he points toward the front door.

“It just so happens that I know a great friend o’ mine who’d have absolutely no problems taming the beast for you bub and oh look at that, she happens to live right across the hall.” He said with a wink

“Don’t bring her into this.” Logan said, waving him off as he went to sit on the couch. Unfortunately Wade knew exactly how he felt about you, having figured it out during their whole ordeal with his variants, Paradox and Cassandra and the bastard had yet to let him live it down.

“Come on Wolvie you can cut the sexual tension you two have with a knife, it’s so thick!” He groans again, throwing himself on the couch beside him dramatically. “It might even be thicker than ours!” Wade said as he leans on Logan’s shoulder fluttering his scarred eyes at him. He shrugs him off, turning the tv on hoping the sound of whatever was on would drown him out but Wade just kept going.

“Stop being a pussy and talk to her!”

“Oh like how you talked to Vanessa?” He snapped back, his anger reaching its limit.

“First of all, we’re a working progress right now and second of all, ouch! Who hurt you?”

Growing tired of Wade and his endless jabbering Logan stood going to grab his jacket from the closet so he could leave.

“Where are you huffing and puffing off too big bad wolf?”

“Anywhere but here.” He said slamming the door shut behind him.

After a few drinks at Sister Margaret's and time to cool his head, Logan returns home to get some chores out of the way. He was far over due to wash his stuff and his hero costume was really starting to fuck with his nose, so, shoving a few handfuls of quarters from Al’s disco dust fund jar into his pockets,he loaded up his hamper and heads down to the laundry room in the basement.

Upon entering he almost immediately bumps into you. You were kicking the dryer when he found you, pissed because it ate your quarters, not paying attention to your surroundings at all.

Digging around in his pockets he bumps his shoulder to yours to get your attention. Startled you nearly jumped out of your skin as he held a hand up in surrender, not meaning to scare you.

“Sorry, just thought I’d offer up some of mine.” He said, pulling a handful of change from his back pocket.

“Oh. that’s ok, I’m-” you start but are stopped when he grabs your hands with one of his and unceremoniously dumps the change into your palms.

“I wasn’t suggesting, take 'em I got more than enough.”

With a silent nod you thank him as he shrugs you off with a “Don’t mention it.”

Logan starts to load up his laundry into the washer next to yours, watching you out of the corner of his eye as you toss your wet clothes into the dryer. You don’t notice as a piece of yellow fabric falls to the floor between you, Logan turns his head to say something, at first not realizing what it was, until it dawns on him that, holy shit, it's a pair of your underwear…and they had Wolverine on them.

They were boxer briefs, nothing inherently sexy about them, but the scent they gave off, clean laundry soap mixed with the smell of your core had Logan reeling.

A small smirk crawled across his face as he started to imagine you wearing them around your house, nothing else adorning your body except for an oversized tee shirt that looked eerily like one of his own, he thought it was cute. Turning his head back to finish his task he kept loading his clothes not showing interest in the underwear to keep from making things awkward. One thing he couldn't deny was your scent. The scent of your core that lingered on the fabric was making his head swim, it was utterly intoxicating, this definitely didn't help with growing his frustration.

After he loaded the washer he pulled a flask from his pocket taking a shot of liquor inside to compose himself as he realized you still hadn’t noticed you dropped them. “You uh dropped something sweetheart.” he nodded towards them. Horrified, you snatch them up and throw them in the dryer.

“Oh god I-I’m sorry! I-“ you start to stutter, at a complete loss for words you slam the dryer lid close and grab your basket ready to leave and hide away in your apartment for the rest of your life until Logan stops you with a strong hand that engulfs your wrist.

“No I-uh I get it. He was your hero right?”

“Yeah he was… but so are you!” You started but quickly press a fist to your forehead in frustration.

“Sorry I don’t want you to feel like you're obligated to live up to him or anything, you’re your own person! I just-“ you were interrupted by Logan closing the distance between you. In your frustration a few of your locs had slipped from your ponytail and were hanging in your face. Logan reached towards you moving one from your face tucking it behind your ear, his bright hazel eyes scanning you carefully taking in your features with a smirk.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” He said, your scent was sending his sensing into overdrive, he could smell your sweat mixed with the soap you used with the spicy aroma of your arousal starting to peek through.

You look down to the ground still slightly embarrassed but mostly warm from the close proximity before you feel a finger lift your chin causing your gaze to meet Logan’s once more. “S-sorry I ramble when I’m nervous.” It came out almost as a whisper, causing Logan to chuckle. It was an annoying habit you had picked up from your best friend Wade over the years he noticed. The intensity of his stare was starting to send your stomach into knots but not in a bad way.

The sound of the laundry room door opening and closing as another tenant enters quickly separates them. Silently the pair looked away from each other as the tenant loaded up his belongings in the open washer. He quickly spared a passing glance between the two of you who awkwardly tried to stare at anything but each other before shrugging his shoulders and leaving.

An awkward silence blanket over the two of you as you shuffle your feet before you scooped up your basket again.

“Listen Logan-“

“Darlin I-“

You both started at the same time. A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest causing your cheeks to feel warm. You smiled down at your feet and tucked another stray loc behind your ear before Logan spoke again.

“You first.”

“I was just gonna ask, did you maybe wanna come over for dinner tonight?”

Logan thought of a million different reasons why he shouldn’t. As if you could see the hesitation across his face you spoke up again.

“Before you say no, I got booze. Something a bit stronger than what I normally drink but it’s right up your alley. It was a gift from Wade.”

Of course it was from Wade.

“I’m also making pie.”

Well shit.

He let out a small sigh, looking down at your big pleading doe eyes before he shrugged; “Sure,why not.” Afterall how could he say no to you when you looked like that?

He could almost imagine Wade fist pumping the air in excitement at the aspect of the two spending alone time together, the blubbering idiot.

You flashed Logan another bright smile before heading to leave, you paused in the doorway for millisecond, before asking “See you at 7?”

“It’s a date doll.”

Seven o’clock rolled around much too quickly for either of them. Logan was busy fussing with his hair in the mirror trying to get the tufts of hair that usually stick up to lay down when Wade walked into the bathroom unceremoniously.

“Don’t you look positively ravishing tonight, got a hot date peanut?”

“Fuck off.” He growls, giving up with his hair and going to throw on a flannel over his wife beater.

“Wait, you do! Holy dick cheese Batman it’s finally happening!” Wade squealed excitedly

“What the hell are you even doing in here?” Logan asked in the doorway of the bathroom observing Wade, he was dressed in a tee shirt and a pair of hello kitty pajama pants and slippers, Logan rolled his eyes before heading to the kitchen to grab a beer.

“Had to take a shit, thanks for asking, but don’t change the subject!” Wade said following him into the kitchen “Who’s the lucky gal?” He asked leaning on the island, his head propped dreamily on his fist. “Or guy we don’t judge here. Wait wait wait! It's not who I think it is, is it?”

Logan didn’t say anything as he guzzled down his drink pre-gaming for the night, turning to grab another from the fridge before plopping down on the couch behind him.

At his silence Wade kicked his feet and clapped his hands excitedly, swinging around in his seat to look at Logan. Mary Puppins barked from her spot on the couch beside him.

“Fuck the Bachelorette and Love Island! The producers are going to make a killing outta this!” He paced excitedly flopping down beside him struggling to keep his composure. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?! We are gonna make millions, no fuck that billions off your sex tape alone! I mean you two love birds are going to blossom in internal passion as the stars align with the future of the virgin Mary!” He said hugging Logan from the side.

Confused as fuck he shrugs Wade off him with a frown as he stands to his feet looking at his roommate with a raised brow. Downing the last of his beer he puts the empty bottle on the counter and heads for the door not wanting to be late.

“Oooh don’t forget to wear a condom, peanut! Remember wrap it before you tap it, before you attack her wrap your whacker! And if you’re not gonna sack it, come home and-!“

Logan slams the door shut before Wade could finish anymore of his bullshit.

He raised his hand to knock at your door but hesitated for a moment. Memories of the you from his timeline flooded his brain for a brief moment and he lowered his hand. He had really fucked you over royally in his own timeline and then you had died before he had a chance to fix that. Was he even worth your time in this one?

He shook the thoughts from his head and squared his shoulders, this was his second chance, a chance to fix all the shit he messed up before and he’d be damned if he was gonna waste this opportunity.

Just as he raised his hand to knock again you tore the door open with wide eyes.

“Logan hi!”

“Hey- you ok kid? You look outta breathe.” He questioned looking you up and down in concern while also unabashedly checking you out.

“Y-yeah I’m sorry I was about to come over and ask Wade if I could borrow something but I-it’s fine come on in!” you said ushering him in before the door behind you both.

The inside of your apartment is cute. The layout is much the same as his own place that he shares with Wade and Blind Al but yours just felt a little more homey to him.

Movie posters and works of art decorated your walls, there was a bookcase in the living room full of all kinds of books and knick knacks that you had collected over the years. On a table by the tv was a record player with a decent sized stack of vinyls. The whole place just screamed you.

“Dinner’s just about ready!” You said drawing his attention back to you. You had changed clothes since he last saw you in the laundry room, your outfit hugging your soft curves in all the right places.

“I was comin’ over to see if Wade had some ice cream for the pie, but I guess we could go without it.” You said leading him into the dining room with a smile, you’re always smiling at him, he noticed. “I hope you like blueberry!”

Logan never thought he'd see the day where someone would cook a nice meal for him let alone the variant of someone he treated so callously before.

He winced internally trying not to think about that. He was here now, not in his old shitty universe where you were gone, but in a new one, one where he had friends, a daughter, a family. It was a chance to start over.

“Sounds great darlin, I’m starving.”

Once you sit down for dinner Logan immediately tucks in, he could smell what you were cooking hours ago from across the hall and damn if it wasn’t the best thing he ever put in his stomach.

The two of you made light conversation as you ate, you poured yourself a glass of wine while Logan had the hard stuff, single malt scotch on the rocks. It had been a gift from Wade after one of his missions, an expensive one at that, and Logan savored every drop of it.

After a few more drinks the pair cleared their empty plates, wrapping up the leftovers of their meal up in portions so Logan could take some home with him. You were pulling the pie from the oven when you heard the telltale sound of running water, looking over you see Logan, rolling up his sleeves with a dish towel draped over his shoulder as he started to do the dishes.

You bite your lip to physically keep from moaning and embarrassing yourself on the spot, domesticity looked damn good on him.

His nose twitched as he smelled your arousal spike for a second, thinking it better to keep that to himself he shifted on his feet as he dried a dish and put it on the rack.

“You don’t have to-“ You started pulling off your oven mitts. They were Star Wars themed, nerdy like the rest of your apartment.

God you were such a geek! You thought flustered, while shoving them onto the counter behind you.

“Nah you cooked, it’s the least I could do.” He said not moving from his spot at the sink

“Logan.” You said firmly placing a hand on your hip. “You’re a guest.”

“And you cooked.” He reiterated,cocking an eyebrow your way. “I’m not budging on this darlin.”

You sigh defeatedly as you grab the towel from his shoulder. “Fine, at least let me help.”

The two of you do the dishes in silence, him washing and you drying, your fingers brushing against each other every so often.

“Dinner was great.” Logan said awkwardly trying to break the stifling silence that enveloped you.

“Good I’m glad you liked it.” You smiled down at your hands timidly, refusing to let him see you cheesing as hard as you were.

“Sorry for not being better company, I know you’re more used to people talkin’ your ear off.”

Wade begrudgingly crosses his mind.

"I'm just uh not so good with people. Makes me anxious.” He admitted, it took a lot for him to come out and say it but he was comfortable with you, he trusted you.

“I get it, I’m the same way that’s why I’m always around Wade. He usually does all the talking for me.” You say fondly thinking back to all the times Wade had been your emotional support extrovert.

Logan honestly had no idea how you put up with him.

“Besides I think your company’s just fine Logan, I like having you around.”

I like being around you too, he wanted to say but he couldn’t get it out. Instead he settled for brushing his shoulder against yours, a small smile dancing across his features as you smiled back up at him.

Flicking the water from your hand as you both finished up, you dry your hands on another rag before offer it up to Logan, his fingers brushing against yours for the umpteenth time that night.

When you look up he’s staring at you, his eyes taking in your features again, flickering between your face and your mouth. You can’t quite place what the emotion is behind his eyes but it makes your belly feel warm and your chest flutters.

Maybe it’s the alcohol you both had, though you know for a fact it takes a whole hell of a lot more than what you had to get you both drunk, but you could have sworn he was getting closer to you.

You start to back up just as he moves to close the distance between you. Chest to chest, or more like chest to sternum as he was almost a whole foot taller than you, Logan starts to lean down sniffing you as your back hits the counter behind you.

“Your heart’s racing.” He says

You had almost completely forgotten about his heightened senses. You were so nervous this whole evening, hoping that everything would go right, could he hear you this whole time? Oh god could he smell you?

“You smell good too.” He says moving to stroke your face with the back of his hand, confirming your fears. You clench your legs together tightly, hoping to at least dampen the smell of how wet you were becoming, causing him to chuckle.

“No use hiding it doll, I can smell you from a mile away.” He said leaning down so that his face is closer to yours.

“Logan…” you whisper. His eyes never leaving your mouth.

“Hm?”

“T-the pie…” You stuttered nervously as your own eyes drifted down to his mouth. You worked so hard on the pie you didn’t know if you’d hate it more if it went to waste or if he moved away from you at that moment.

You wanted more than anything for him to stay where he was, caging you in at the counter like a frightened little mouse.

“It can wait sweetheart.” He said, finally claiming your lips as his own.

He pulls back for a moment to look at you, dipping to place a gentle peck on your lips, as if he’s asking if this is ok.

You wrap your arms around him, dragging his mouth back down to yours, he moves his hands to the back of your thighs hoisting you up onto the counter behind you, grinding himself into you as the kiss deepens.

Logan hesitates in the kiss for a moment, pulling himself away from you as if he realizes something. When you try to lean back in and kiss him again he stops you, holding you at arm’s length searching your eyes for something, anything he could use to make you hate him in this timeline like you undoubtedly did in his old one but he found nothing but adoration.

“You-“ he starts to speak, his voice a little shaky “You don’t want this sweetheart, I’m not a good man.”

I’m not your hero, he meant to say.

You place a hand on his cheek rubbing softly at his mutton chops with your thumb.

“Please stop telling me what I fucking want.” You say leaning back in to peck at his lips. “I want you, not a hero, or this timeline’s Logan, or any other Logan out there, just you. You’re not the Worst Logan, you're just you and I want all of you.” You finish while leaning up into him, waiting for his response.

Raising an eyebrow and at a complete loss for words, having rarely heard you cuss, Logan smirks before leaning back down to meet you the rest of the way recapturing your lips with a “Yes ma’am.”

His right hand comes up to cup your jaw, gently running the pad of his thumb over the skin before running his hand up to weave his finger through your locs.

You hop off the counter, grabbing him by his flannel your mouth reconnects with his as you lead him into your bedroom, he kicks the door shut behind him.

You start to kiss down his jaw before Logan stops you with a growl. He picks you up and tosses you onto the bed before his lips reconnect with yours.

His hands find their way under your clothes to paw at you, as you free him from the confines of his flannel. Tossing it behind him, it hits your iPod dock causing music to start playing but neither of you care, too enraptured in each other to even notice. Logan pulls away from your mouth only long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his hands trailing down to pull down your pants and underwear next.

He grabs you by your hips dragging you to the edge of the bed, as he kneels down in front of you, eye level with your hot core.

You throw your head back with a moan at the first drag of his tongue. Your legs finding their way around his shoulders as he drags his nose and tongue up and down teasing you.

He presses his mouth against your clit, sucking on it before pulling away and flicking it with his tongue, drawing circles and nipping at it with his teeth.

Watching you through dark lashes, he drags his hand down your body bringing it to his mouth, he licks his finger, bringing it to your wet cunt as he slowly begins to move it in and out of you, curling it against your gummy walls searching until he finds the right spot. You let out a strangled half-sob as he leans back down pressing his mouth against your clit again, sucking and flicking at the hard nub.

“Shit,” you rasp out, reaching out for him. He knew you were getting close, he could tell from the way you pulsed around him as he added another finger.

Tears brimmed your eyes as you felt your orgasm building. “Please, right there!” You choked, eyes closing as you threw your head back.

“So fucking wet for me already and I barely touched you.” Logan chuckles. You stifled a noise as your impending orgasm builds in your gut.

“I-I’m gonna-!” You start to cry out but are cut off by a sob.

“I gotcha darlin, I’m right here.” He mumbles into your pussy as he reaches his free hand out to hold your hips open for him, your hands frantically bury themselves in his hair, desperate for something to hang on to. He carries on lapping at you as you squirm talking you through your orgasm as he rubbed his nose to your clit, drawing it out of you as his fingers continue to fuck in and out of you.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He sighs as he keeps fucking you on his fingers, his intensity increasing as he latches himself back onto your clit devouring you like a man starved, you come almost instantly. It’s when he looks up at you, hazel eyes dark and hungry, that you finally lose it, your second orgasm of the night ripping through like a freight train.

Standing back to his feet Logan licks your residue from his lips and fingers, chin glistening with your slick.

You sit up immediately grabbing at his belt, fingers rushed and fumbling with the buckle, he replaces your hands quickly unbuckling it before pulling the hem of his shirt up over his head.

Reaching behind you, you free your chest from your bra, just as he kicks his pants off. Logan pushes you backwards, your back hitting the soft mattress beneath you as he stalks over towards you on his hands and knees.

He inhales deeply through his nose taking in your scent, the aroma of you mixed with your arousal is intoxicating and is driving him absolutely feral, with a wet kiss he bites down hard where your neck and shoulder meet, where your scent’s the strongest, nearly drawing blood, before he’s back on you, covering your mouth with his own kissing you viciously as if you’d fade away from existence if he let you go.

He laps at the spot he had previously bitten you as he slowly pulls away, soothing the skin there. The mark was already gone, thanks to your healing factor, but god you could still feel it and you secretly ached that he’d do it again.

You soon feel the head of his cock running along your folds, it’s thick, and hot to the touch as he runs it along your slick hole. Then without warning he’s pushing into you, sheathing himself inside of you with a single thrust.

Logan threw his head back with a loud groan. He promised himself he’d go slow with you, take his take opening you up for him but fuck if this didn’t feel right, good it felt oh so good.

“Fuck” he grunts out into your mouth as he drops his head down to drag you into a hard smoldering kiss swallowing your moans as he sinks in fully.

He lets you adjust for a few moments before he pulls back and thrusts into you instinctively, repeating the harsh action as he begins to slowly pick up his pace. If you had been completely human, the force of his thrusts would’ve surely shattered your pelvis or at least threw them out of alignment.

Reaching up to grab onto the headboard of your bed to anchor himself Logan locks in fully, gripping the wood bar in a death grip as he pushes into you. You reach up too, grabbing a handful of sheets by your head with one hand and his hips with the other, desperate for something to anchor yourself with as Logan’s brutal pace has you reeling.

“L-Logan!” you cry out, body shaking from the force of his thrusts. His cock sinking deeper and deeper as he angles your legs over his shoulders, hitting that sweet spot inside of you repeatedly making your legs tremble in unadulterated pleasure.

An audible crack is heard from where Logan is still holding onto your headboard but you both could careless, your heads completely clouded over with lust.

Just when you were starting to think it was all too much, his thumb finds your clit again and starts to rub fierce quick little circles.

“Gimme one more darlin.” His voice is strained and rough, as he leans down to your neck inhaling your scent again as he licks up to your neck nipping at your jaw and neck as he pulls away.

You scrambled to get away, pushing at his chest as the over sensitivity was proving to be too much.

Logan lets go of the headboard and grabs both your hands with his much larger one, locking them firmly to his chest right over his rapidly beating heart.

“Don’t try and run from me kid, you wanted this remember?” He chuckled darkly, picking up his pace even more if that were possible.

Tears stream steadily down your cheeks as your barreling toward your next orgasm, it’s here, with your hair fanned out around your head, cheeks puffy and tear stained while you pant desperately trying to get away and keep up with him at the same time , that he thinks this is the most beautiful he’s ever seen you.

“Come on my dick, baby.”

Your body completely locks up at his words, your back arching off the bed as you scream, your orgasm wrecking through you as you clench around him like a vice. Logan drops your legs, yanking you up into a messy kiss as he takes you through it.

“Good fucking girl.” He grunts against your lips, he gives you a few moments to come down from your high, burying his face into your neck before he resumes his punishing pace.

You think you’re at your limit as fat tears fall from your eyes, never have you ever felt this good, this full before, it’s far too much for you.

Just as you were about to tap out, he grunts into your neck, his hands move to grip your ass bringing it up to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck, tell me where?” He growls out. He wraps an arm around your back bringing you chest to chest as he fucks you on his lap, the new angle making him hit that sweet spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

At first you don’t quite understand what he’s asking, your brain too foggy to comprehend much of anything right now, but as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, nearly drawing blood again, you finally understood, he was close and so were you again.

“Inside, please I wanna feel you.” You whimpered as he pounds into you. He groans at your request and picks up the pace rutting up into you desperately like an animal. His hammering is deep and unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it feels too good to make him stop, you’ll definitely have a hard time walking in the morning.

With one last harsh flick of his thumb to your clit you’re coming hard on his dick, clenching around him as your body quivers uncontrollably, almost blacking out for a moment.

He growls as his hips stutter against your own, as he cums into you, the force of his final thrust knocking you both bad down onto the mattress. Logan thrusts a few more times, pumping his load as deep inside of you as he could, claiming your mouth once again in a deep searing kiss.

You run your hands through his hair as he nearly drops himself on you, his forearms supporting the weight of his adamantium skeleton. He’s still buried inside you as you're peppering his face and neck with light kisses.

It’s quiet for a moment before he lifts himself up, pulling himself from inside you with a grunt. He pushes stray locs from your face as he kisses your forehead and flops over onto the other side of the bed dragging you with him.

At the weight of his adamantium bones dropping down onto the already crack and barely hanging on frame your bed frame finally gives out dropping your mattress to the floor with a loud thud, startling the both of you.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” You panted too shocked and tired to move from your spot on his chest.

“Sorry baby, I’ll get you a new one.” Logan laughs lightly as he pulls you to his chest.

A comfortable silence fills the room as the two of you lay on the floor, your breathing starting to return to normal. Leaning down to inhale your scent again Logan’s met with the pleasant tang of you covered in him and pulls you tighter snuggling you into him.

“You still with me?” The rough edge of his voice brings you back to your senses.

You smiled up at him from his chest with a big dopey smile, eyes completely dazed as you answered with an “mm-hm.” Too fucked out to fully speak properly. You laid back down on his chest, eyes closed as you shiver, he runs a hand up and down your spine as you start to drift off.

He chuckles at your response or lack thereof and pulls your sheets over the both of you. The temperature in the room had started to come down dramatically as your sweat covered bodies cooled in the night.

Just as Logan was about to close his eyes and join you in what was hopefully a peaceful night’s rest for the first time in years, your bedroom door bursts open revealing Wade, still clad in his hello kitty pajamas helping himself to a piece of the pie you had left out.

“Jesus Wade!” You yell eyes practically bulging out of your head as you scramble to grip the sheets to your chest.

“What the fuck asshole?!” Logan growled trying his best to shield you from view with his arms. His hazel eyes were seething with anger.

“My sweet virgin eyes!” Wade said, covering his eyes but still peeking through them through a gap in his fingers with a smirk as he chewed loudly. “You two sounded like an indoor jungle gym but instead of a shit ton of kids it's just you two.” He laughs shoving the rest of the slice into his mouth as he moves to sit on the edge of the broken bed on the floor, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You, young lady, have some pipes on you. Could hear you practically singing about the Wolverine.~” he teases with a tsk.

“And you sir!” He points to Logan who growls at him as he swats his hand outta his face. “Where do I even begin?” He tsked again as he shook his head “You really had some pent up frustration didn’t you, you slut? Did you break her? I know she has a healing factor too but good god man have some restraint!” he leans back on her broken bed as he spreads himself out on the end.

“And her poor bed! I hope you're planning on replacing it, bee tee dubs.” Wade rolls over onto his side propping himself up on his elbow at the couple’s feet. “Did he even use a condom?” He whispered to you loudly before adding “Nice tits by the way.” as he winked at Logan. “I don’t think creampie was the type of pie she had in mind when she invited you over for dinner, old man.”

“Who knew Wolverine was a cuddler?”

You roll your eyes at Wade’s antics completely used to him over the years of knowing him but Logan on the other hand had clearly had enough. Ripping the sheets from himself you watch as Logan comically chases Wade out of the room, buck ass naked.

Slamming your bedroom door shut Logan turns the lock with a grunt, finally returning to your side he pulls you back to his chest and flings the sheets over you.

“He’s not so bad, y'know when you get used to him.” You shrug with your eyes closed as you snuggle into his chest. Adrenaline, now dying down, sleep had started to wrap you in its dreamy embrace and it was hard to keep your eyes open.

“That little cockroach is gonna be the death of me.”

You laugh at him one last time before finally drifting off. Your soft snores were the last thing Logan heard as he too snuggled into your warmth and drifted off.

Who knew the Wolverine was such a cuddler.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

SOMETIMES I LONG TO EAT YOU UP ; RYŌMEN SUKUNA

synopsis; sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you. he cooks for you, instead.

word count; 6.0k

contents; ryōmen sukuna/reader, gn!reader, househusband!sukuna, no curses au, fluff fluff fluff!!, sukuna is Whipped bc i say so, (he bullies you a bit but he does so lovingly), lots of cooking and descriptions of food, implied reincarnation au if you reeaalllyyyyy squint (but feel free to ignore it if that’s not your thing!!), reader is a silly goose, sukuna vs human emotion (he loses), he’s ooc but he’s Free

a/n; >:3 is anyone shocked….. that’s right. ari is in fact capable of writing for characters who aren’t stsg….. this one has been in my wips for Many Months now but i finally finished it!! i just think being in a nice warm kitchen could fix him. (super cute dividers by @/enchanthings !!)

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

throughout the years you've been together, it's something you've grown used to. words like love must feel foreign in his mouth — even more so when they slip into the air, voiced, manifested. 

discomforting, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

he only says it under certain conditions, little moments here and there, all of them memorable; a particularly sentimental midnight drive, that time you broke down sobbing into his chest after a rough day, the night he proposed. and so on. little moments, precious moments, few and far between.

that’s just how sukuna is. unaccustomed to being loved, even more unaccustomed to being in love. swallowing the words down, afraid of what could happen if he spoke them aloud, through more than a mere whisper. as if they could burn you.

you don’t mind, because you know him. and you know that he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it nearly as often as you do. 

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them; always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it — a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table as soon as you get home. it’s there. concrete.

but, above all else… sukuna translates his boundless love into food. 

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen and dyeing the open space in a golden glow — like something out of a summery daydream. you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, as your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily.

stumbling towards your target.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around his waist, forehead bumping into his broad back, practically tackling him into a hug. he’s become attuned to the sound of your clumsy footsteps. he makes a tiny noise, acknowledging your presence, and that’s all. 

the low purr of the espresso machine buzzes in the air, as he watches over the process, dutiful as ever. the same drawn out, thoughtful process he goes through every morning; picking out the beans himself, grinding them into grounds, and making a cup for you with his beloved, expensive coffee machine. making sure every setting is exactly as it should be. it gives him peace of mind.

and it needs to be perfect, in every possible way — so sukuna tries his best not to let you distract him.

(he never quite succeeds.) 

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest. but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still.

his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

”assaulting me first thing in the morning, are we?”

you’re a little too sleepy to respond, too out of it. still reeling with the hazy remnants of your deep sleep, stretching your limbs out groggily and making a little mrm sound that makes his lips twitch up. unwillingly, might he add.

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly — he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue, but never actually pushes you off. all sukuna does is absently caress your arm, where it rests around his midsection, still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron. but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking — of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice.

so you part your lips.

”did you have nice dreams?” is murmured into his back, your cheek smooshed against the soft, dark fabric of his tight turtleneck.

sukuna hums. listening, always, even when he pretends to tune you out. then comes his response.

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

you bite down on your lip, struggling to withhold a giggle. it doesn’t really work — but you tactfully pretend not to hear his displeased grumble.

”right,” you smile. ”my bad.”

another soft silence washes over you. just for a couple of moments, as you drowsily blink, and sukuna puts two ceramic cups on the counter. blissful, until you break it again.

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills. only barely, just for a second, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try. ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

(sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

it’s touching, in a way. the idea that he never quite leaves your mind. that he’s there, always, even in your dreams. it’s… sweet. he supposes.

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out, akin to a sleepy cat — and he strains his ears to hear what you’ll say next.

”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. ”get out of my kitchen.”

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body. ”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

”i would never work there,” he scoffs. ”frankly, the thought is insulting.”

you quirk a brow. ”what kind of beef do you have with mcdonalds?” 

”don't ask me stupid questions,” he huffs, clicking his tongue, a bitter lilt to his voice. ”they don’t make food. it’s practically contaminated — poisonous. i don’t want you eating that plastic.”

(why would you want to, when you have me to make you anything you want?)

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a teasing smile. endeared, by how grumpy he’s getting. ”aw. i like it, though...”

sukuna sighs.

”alright, then.” his voice is controlled, hiding every single tinge of his carefully concealed frustration. he must have been an actor in a past life, to sound so effortlessly unbothered. ”go buy yourself one of those cheap, awful, bland cappuccinos you love so much. i’ll pay.”

your lips twitch upward. he’s just being snarky, you know he is, but you still bundle up his sweater with your fists. shaking your head. ”i’m just kidding,” you purr, biting back another yawn. ”only want yours.”

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something like pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content. finally, the kitchen falls silent, only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears — until that dwindles out too.

a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks. 

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic. he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more.

absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

”nothing,” he’s quick to hum. maybe a little too quick, but before you can question it, he scoffs. ”are you gonna cling to me all day, you little brat?”

”… can i?” 

sukuna clicks his tongue.

(he’s awfully lucky you don’t look up to see the cherry red tint of his pierced ears.)

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons. then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the blooming flowers by the windowsill.

he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it. glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

(maybe later.)

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing affectionately at his waist. taking a sip of the bitter brew. a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning.

the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words. 

you take another sip, and a smile blooms on your lips. 

your stomach is growling.

it’s been ten minutes since it started. ten minutes since you noticed the pit of hunger in your gut, growing more and more for every passing second; and you’re trying to ignore it, valiantly, sitting in your cubicle and mentally cursing yourself for being so scatterbrained.

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

a pang of ache bubbles up in your stomach, and you curl into yourself. sitting on a not-so-comfy chair, doing your best to survive, staring at the clock on the wall and watching the minutes tick down. only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, eventually, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind. you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise.

you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

sukuna always makes your lunches himself. tailored to suit your tastes, to give you the nutrients and energy you need not to lose your mind or set the building on fire, with all the hours you spend staring into your computer screen and writing until your brain turns to mush. they’re always delicious, always lovingly made, and you think you might break down and cry if you have to settle for a cheap sandwich instead. you’d rather swallow crushed glass.

a sigh slips from your lips.

your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk, to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes. ”my offer still stands, you know?”

you give her a smile. ”no, it’s fine,” you murmur, rubbing the back of your neck. ”eating someone else’s handmade food just wouldn’t feel right…”

”… he spoils you, huh?”

a huff. you pout a little, and she chuckles, going back to eating from her bento. it’s hard not to feel jealous. it’s even harder not to think of the bento still waiting for you in your fridge.

finally, you resign yourself to your tragic fate. putting both palms on your desk, ready to lift yourself up; doomed to survive on a cheaply made sandwich and a too-sweet can of coffee. it’s not ideal, not at all. but it is what it is.

(if only you hadn’t forgotten it…)

”you’re a klutz.”

something is placed directly in front of you. two boxes, stacked on top of each other, wrapped up in a pink cloth — neatly tied, smelling just slightly of food. tantalizing.

you raise your head.

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your stupor — stuck in place, staring at him silently. like he just fell out of the sky. 

”sukuna,” you sputter, finally, glancing down at the bento and then back up at him. ”you —”

”you’re lucky i noticed,” he cuts you off. ”almost didn't make it in time.” one glance at the clock on the wall, and he’s placing a can of peach tea on your desk; it’s still covered in condensation, his fingers leaving prints on the aluminium. ”i should go. doubt your bosses will be very thrilled to have a motorcycle parked outside.”

”ah.” you fall silent. looking down at your lap, wearing a weak smile, a little too ashamed for his liking. ”… sorry, ’kuna. i know you’re busy.”

he gazes down at you, slumped in your chair, bags beneath your weary eyes. an apologetic smile on your lips, a little dejected. like you’re being scolded.

(his eyes soften.)

sukuna shakes his head. only slightly, by a hair, but enough to put you at ease — to let you know he isn’t upset, that grumpy is simply his default state. his voice shifts into a lower, softer tone. ”just don’t forget it next time.” 

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting.

”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment. a smile sprouts on your lips.

you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have. ”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips as you meet his gaze. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him. it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

his hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he brushes through your bangs; adjusting them. and you know it’s just an excuse to touch you, that he’d let himself be greedy and ruffle your hair if you weren’t in public. he doesn’t like having an audience, small as it may be. but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.

”make sure to eat all of it,” he hums, glancing out the window, towards the motorcycle parked outside. ”i’ll come pick you up later.”

you smile, and sukuna leaves. elegant, even in the way he moves, collected and confident. languid, long legs and a broad back. the warmth of his palm on your head remains, as you wave after him with a cheery see you soon!

and it’s finally time.

with an eager kind of giddiness, you unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp. the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri; they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds.

you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun. it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

”did he really make that..?” your coworker mumbles, still chewing on her own food. you’re too hungry to respond.

you fish out a tiny note, tucked between the boxes. that’s where he usually puts them. you don’t remember when it started, but you know he enjoys it; writing down little reminders or words of encouragement. his handwriting is beautiful, clear and concise. your eyes trail over every little word, every letter, the little smudged scribble in the middle. it makes you smile.

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

a warmth spreads throughout your body, from the pit of your stomach down to the tips of your fingers; your heart constricting to make room for the love that blooms between your ribs. you barely even notice the wide smile on your lips, leaning forward to leave a little kiss on the paper. it’ll have to do, since he isn’t here to receive it himself.

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue. the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile. 

there’s love, in this. in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients, all the seasonings you like, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue. the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty.

there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again, but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes.

his love.

(god, you can’t wait to get home.)

a soft, orange glow simmers in the kitchen — an atmosphere too sweet not to savour.

your dining room table is covered in a white cloth, burdened by the weight of one burning candle and an expensive vase; stuffed with camellias in all hues, jasmine buds and pretty bluebells, floral scents mingling with the cinnamon-like one of the scented candle. every inhale fills your senses with pure bliss. 

not to mention the food. 

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls.

and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown. 

all your favorites.

sukuna takes hold of a teapot. made of glass, stuffed with a blooming chrysanthemum, petals stretching out like rays of sunlight in the golden water. he pours it into two ceramic cups, and then promptly drags a chair out for you; a silent beckoning.

but all you can do is stare. 

”sukuna…”

he quirks a brow, meeting your astonished stare, eyes round and confused like a puppy’s; painfully cute. he could eat you up. ”what?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. silent, furrowing your brows as if in deep contemplation. ”our anniversary is in august, right?” something panicked smooths over your face. ”i didn’t forget?”

a sigh spills from his lips. ”don’t be dumb,” he clicks his tongue, glancing away for no more than a moment. ”we haven’t had much time to eat together, lately. that’s all.” 

(he missed you. he wanted to spoil you, a bit.

he could say it out loud; but he chooses not to.)

either way, he knows you get the message. because suddenly your eyes glimmer, and a full smile blooms on your pretty lips. you waste no time in plopping down on the seat in front of you, right across from sukuna. ”hehe. thank you, baby.”

he huffs. tiny, more of a shy little breath. ”alright, already. eat. before it gets cold.”

”okay, okay!” 

he watches as you grab your chopsticks, hungrily eyeing all the dishes on display. listening to his own heartbeat; thrumming, softly, just behind his ribs. pulsating like a fish gasping for air.

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he barely had time to take — but he’d rather die than soil this moment with the smell of his cooking-induced sweat.

”when you were away.” he reaches for the cup in front of him, tracing the tips of his fingers against the ceramic. ”jin helped. not with the cooking, obviously, thank god. but…” he raises it to his lips, before taking a sip. ”the ambience. i suppose.”

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?” a curt nod is all you get; it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile, fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

sukuna stills. he meets your gaze, eyes trailing towards your knuckles, your fingers, how they blend together with the petals. how he could almost mistake them for stalks. he leans back in his chair, and mutters under his breath;

”… why else would i ask him to buy them?”

you blink. not in surprise, but realization. the sweet kind, like a splash of citrus blooming on your tongue, refreshing.

(he’s always been a bit of a sap, hasn’t he.)

”… that’s true,” your lips split into a sheepish smile, hoping he won’t feel the heat of your cheeks from this distance. ”they’re pretty. thank you.”

another little furrow of his brows. ”enough of that,” comes a sigh. ”if you really want to thank me, make sure the food doesn’t go to waste.”

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice. sukuna watches you dig in with a certain look in his eyes, something alert and attentive, soft in the corners. resting his chin on the heel of his palm, waiting patiently for those little blissful sighs to start spilling from your lips. wallowing in the finely crafted atmosphere, pleasant scents and soft lighting, the air brimming with something tender and raw.

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil. there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease.

and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

(he doubts he’ll ever tell you, but he won’t ever stop being grateful for that.)

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream. sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with.

he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

”so good,” you moan, closing your eyes in pure bliss, and he has to take a sip of his tea to cover the smug smile on his face.

”make sure to finish what’s on your plate,” is all he says, but the honeyed note in his voice gives his satisfaction away. awfully pleased by your approval. ”i made dessert, too.”

at that, your eyes light up even further, swirling with something excited and sweet, and he fails to hold back an amused little huff.

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever.

but there’s no way you’d ever manage to sit still for so long, so he carries you to bed instead. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you in under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

sukuna stills. he watches you, watches you, watches you, every single miniscule motion of your stiff facial features. 

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

your eyes flutter open, flashing with betrayal, and sukuna only gives you that signature click of his tongue. ”did you really think you could trick me so easily?”

”i did! you carried me here!” your lips fall into a petulant frown, as you scramble to sit up straight against the fluffy pillows. he only rolls his eyes.

”i wanted to appease you,” he says, and you almost fall for it because it’s not quite a lie. ”such a brat. can’t even walk on your own, huh?”

”well, pardon me for wanting my sweet fiancé to hold me.”

”i hold you all the time.”

”it’s not the same,” you sigh, two little shakes of your head. ”whatever. you wouldn't get it.”

sukuna quirks a brow, but doesn’t push it. instead, he releases the slightest exhale, eyes blooming with amusement, his palm finding its way to your tousled hair. smoothing down your skull.

”go back to sleep,” he beckons, softly, almost hypnotically. his voice is at its most tender when it’s late at night; a little too exhausted to sharpen his syllables properly. ”i’ll hold you later.”

”… you’re not joining me?” you ask, eyes filling with confusion, and he feels a slight tug at his heart — a little string that ties him to you. 

”i need to plan next week’s meals,” he mutters, watching as you furrow your brows, meeting his gaze with a pair of disappointed puppy dog eyes. 

you know he’s weak to them.

”don’t pout,” he scoffs, looking away for the briefest little moment. weak. ”i'll do it quickly.”

”you always say that,” comes a heavy sigh. you bundle up the covers with your fists, shooting him a bitter little glance. ”but it always takes forever.”

”don’t complain,” he tuts. tilting his head, pink locks falling across his forehead, his maroon eyes. ”haven’t i pampered you enough tonight?”

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

he tries not to feel bad. he wants to sleep with you; but he can’t. sunday nights are for meal planning. they have been since you first moved in together, and he’s not planning to put a fork in the road of his carefully nurtured routine anytime soon. he needs to make sure you eat balanced meals, get all the vitamins you need — it’s practically life and death.

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad. it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe.

(he brushes the thought away.)

for a moment, he’s entirely still. then his pinkie twitches, beckoning him to you. there it goes, again — that invisible string. he takes a step forward, crouching down to meet you at eye level. 

”… sorry,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. the word feels foreign on his tongue, but he swallows the discomfort. ”i’ll hurry. you have my word.”

you blink.

then you’re smiling, again. flipping to your side, sluggishly, just to face him fully. ”’kay.” you reach out for his hand. ”don’t complain if i’m knocked out when you get back, though.”

he looks at your intertwined fingers, brushing his thumb across your skin, a hum buzzing in his throat. affectionate, despite his teasing. ”i wont have to listen to your nightly tangents, then.”

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them. he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails. a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy.

(far more grueling than any of the bloodshed.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. they chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life, one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit. but you don’t need to know that. so he doesn’t say it — he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue. 

he squeezes your palm. 

and then he’s rising to his feet. you follow him with your eyes, blinking drowsily, cheek smooshed against the soft mattress. he resists an uncharacteristic coo.

you muster up a sweetened grin, teeth shining like stars. ”g’night, honey. don’t stay up too late, okay?”

he hums. a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway. ”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous, a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?”

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate. ”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom. 

”sweet dreams, count dracula!” 

”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

ignoring your muffled, distressed whine, sukuna hides a fond smile behind his palm. biting down on his bottom lip to keep it at bay — absently deciding what to make for your breakfast tomorrow. pancakes or waffles? maybe he’ll skip the vanilla ice cream, this time. just to teach you a lesson.

when he returns, forty minutes later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths them into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure. but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize, if you’ll ever realize, just how much you mean to him.

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you, but you know. you know, because it’s in everything he does.

you know that he loves you because he actually allows you into his kitchen, when anyone else would be chased out with a pitchfork. because he doesn’t push you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, over his cream-coloured apron, even though you know it distracts him while he’s cooking dinner — only ever clicking his tongue or making a noise of disapproval, placing a palm over your forearm. muttering little harmless grumbles of it’s like you want to get first degree oil burns.

you know that he loves you because you’re always the first to taste his food, without fail, the first person he goes to when he tries a new recipe. and you appreciate it, even when you joke about how honoured you are to test your king’s meals for poison. he quirks a brow and threatens to take the food away, sure, but then there’s always that one flicker of amusement in the amber of his eyes. 

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands. because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

you know that he loves you because it’s there. you can feel it, in every stolen glance, every slight smile when you finally dig in. in the way the cutlet melts on your tongue, the way the bitter espresso runs down your throat, the warmth that blossoms in your chest when you catch him watching you with the faintest glimmer of a content smile. 

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough —

i love you, i love you, i love you.