#(he really hoped everyone would have forgotten about it)

[cornliastreett]

BED CHEM ⎯⎯ chapter two

drew starkey x singer!reader

NAVIGATION !

BED CHEM MASTERLIST !

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001. NOTE

thank you so much for all the love on this fic so far! i didn’t think that many people would be reading this on here. so thank you!

IT WAS ANOTHER WEEKEND IN LOS ANGELES, WHICH MEANT ANOTHER EVENT FILLED WITH CELEBRITIES AND INFLUENCERS. You didn't even know what the event was for anymore, you had met so many people that night, shaken so many hands and repeated your name so many times that it had slipped your mind what you were actually there for. It had also slipped your mind that Madelyn had messaged you that morning to tell you she was attending the same event. So you hadn't remembered to look for Madelyn. You also hadn't had the time to, even if you had remembered.

But Madelyn had remembered. She had been looking for you the minute she stepped foot on the carpet that night. Even when she had bumped into Drew that night, she was still looking for you. But Madelyn didn't want Drew to know she had been looking for you the entire time the two had been talking. So she tried to act as though she wasn't even sure if you were there. "I think Y/N/N is here tonight, I should text her." Madelyn had said, slipping her phone out of her bag. Not even sure if you would have your phone on you to see the message.

Drew had frowned. "Who the hell is Y/N/N?" He hadn't a single clue who Madelyn was talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." Madelyn corrected herself, thinking using your name would be clearer. Not everyone called you ‘Y/N/N'.

"I'm still confused." The frown stayed on Drew's face.

It was then Madelyn's turn to frown. "Y/N Y/L/N?" She questioned. But the confused look stayed on Drew's face. "Come on, Drew." Madelyn spoke about you enough for Drew to have recognised the name.

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" Drew asked her, before taking a sip from his drink.

"Drew...I am shocked." Madelyn couldn't believe Drew didn't have a single clue who you were. Madelyn's best friend for the past two years.

"Is this the same person you talk about all the time? The singer." It was as though a lightbulb went off in Drew's head. All the times Madelyn spoke about you, he had suddenly remembered.

"Yes!"

"Right. I still don't really know who she is." Although he knew you were friends with Madelyn, he still wasn't sure who you were. Had never seen you anywhere before or listened to any of your music. For all he knew, Madelyn could have been making you up.

Madelyn rolled her eyes and looked back down at her phone to text you. "I'll introduce you to her. She's amazing, you'll love her."

"Sure." Drew knew Madelyn was only saying that because she loved you. It wasn't as though he'd become friends with you, or even see you again. At least so he thought.

A good 20 minutes had passed. The topic of you had been left and Drew and Madelyn continued to speak about other things. Till a familiar face walked into sight. "Y/N/N!" Madelyn shouted for you, hoping she was loud enough for you to hear.

You had finally been given a minute to breathe and was on your way to grab a drink when you heard somebody calling your name. "Oh my God, Maddie." You had never been so happy to see your friend. You approached Madelyn, completing missing for a second that Madelyn had been standing with somebody else. You quickly wrapped your arms around your friend, giving her a squeeze. "Please save me. I haven't had a minute to even think since I got here." You had said as you hugged your friend.

"Okay, Miss Popular." Madelyn laughed as she released you from her hold.

You then pouted. "I've missed you." Two months without having time to see each other was too long. You two had been inseparable since the moment you met two years ago.

"I missed you too." Madelyn mirrored your pout. She then heard a cough from beside her. "Oh, Y/N/N, this is Drew." Madelyn had completely forgotten Drew was beside her. But you had noticed. His piercing stare had caught your attention the moment you saw him standing with Madelyn. "Drew, this is Y/N."

You had a hunch it was Drew standing beside Madelyn. You’d obviously never met him before but you had seen the odd photo, and had watched Outer Banks before. Madelyn also spoke about him a lot. "Ah, the famous Drew Starkey." You smiled at him. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you." Your smile grew and Drew had almost forgotten to reply.

"You have?" He raised an eyebrow.

You nodded. "Yeah. From Maddie, Chase. You're probably the only one I hadn't met." You had seemed to have met all of Madelyn's costars and friends except for Drew.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet the Y/N/N that Madelyn won't shut up about." Drew smiled, feeling himself feeling strange under your gaze.

"Aww." You turned to Madelyn.

"It's true, I do talk about you a lot." Madelyn said, nodding her head. She wasn't embarrassed about it, you knew how much Madelyn adored you.

You were about to turn back to Drew, say something else but you were interrupted by your name being called. "Y/N." The voice of your manager filled your ears and you winced.

"Oh no, I'm being summoned."

Your manager approached you from the side, gently placing her hand on your shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but there's somebody I want you to meet."

"Okay, coming." You smiled and nodded, before turning back to Madelyn and Drew. "Sorry, I can't stay and chat." You told them both. You then looked towards Madelyn. "We'll meet up soon, okay?" Madelyn nodded. You then turned to Drew. "And it was nice to meet you, Drew." You gave him a smile, your cheeks flushing but you didn't notice.

"Yeah, you too." Drew mirrored your smile, and your flushed cheeks. You then disappeared into the crowd and Drew never saw you again that night. But your face and your voice spent the night in his head. He couldn't seem to think about anything else, even for days after.

yourusername posted a photo !

liked by zendaya, joeyking and 1,063,622 others

yourusername in a sheer dress

view all 2,673 comments

user god damn GOD DAMN

user she’s so hot and she knows it

madelyncline fuck you’re so hot

↳ yourusername fuck i love you

user hope she’s working on her new album

↳ user she hasn’t even toured eics yet, give her a chance

joeyking PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE

↳ yourusername like i wouldn’t date the fuck out of you if either of us swung for the other team

user caption sounds like a song lyric

tags: @esquivelbianca @ts1mp0ne @fruitcakerafe @anothertimegirl @soincredible @ursogorgeous13 @drewsephrry @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @hypnotizedstarkey @sereneera @glitteryfurything @harrys-housewife @st8rkey

[lipstick-and-libraries]

Between the Lines

PT. 4

𓋜 Pairing: Minho (XO, Kitty) x fem! Reader

𓋜 Series: The Roommate Exchange

𓋜 Summary: When You and Minho are paired for a class project, unexpected moments of honesty and tension arise. Between late-night conversations and shared silences, you discover that some things are harder to hide than you thought.

𓋜 Notes:

Hello my loves!!

I know that I take a while to upload, however, i fully intend to finish this small series and still give you more than just 4 chapters, soo..what would you think about another chapter coming out directly after this as a thank you for everyone who so kindly supports my thoughts that I didnt expect anyone to see.

Anyhow, I hope you guys are fans of slowburn and heartbreak because from now on this rollercoaster will get a little more bumpy, love will do that to you, and especially to You and Minho <3

𓋜 Taglist:

@finnbbl

@literallysza

@knivesdoingcartwheels

@teaandbacon

@dragonwitchy

@formula1mount

@strayk1ds143

@uhsophiesblog

@iweirdthingsblog

@random-human02

@elizabethgracie

@verycoolmiyah

@mintydump

@shiiiii-okayyyy

@munsonsquinn

@tagakalat

@mirahyun

@cultish-corner

A special thank you to everyone on the taglist, i love you guys ꨄ

Please do let me know if i have forgotten you, i keep the names in my notes app so i shouldnt forget anyone but if it happens anyway i am deeply sorry

If you want to be added to the taglist, just put it in the comments, your reposts or in my asks, even if I havent answered I 100% have seen it and added you <33

Enough talking from my side though, enjoy you study date with Minho

The buzz from the creative showcase announcement still lingered around KISS like an unspoken challenge. Posters were plastered on every wall, reminding students of the looming event hosted by none other than Minho’s father—a showcase designed to highlight the best talents at the school. For most, it was an opportunity. For Minho, it was a reminder of everything he tried to avoid: expectations, vulnerability, and being seen beyond the carefully curated persona he presented to the world.

But none of that mattered right now.

Because Minho was staring at the name list posted outside his literature class, and there it was—bold and undeniable:

Group Project Partners: Minho & (Y/N)

He blinked, hoping his eyes were deceiving him. They weren’t.

“Wow,” Q’s voice broke through Minho’s silent panic, appearing over his shoulder with an amused grin. “Fate really isn’t subtle, huh?”

Dae chuckled beside him, leaning casually against the wall. “You’ll survive. Maybe.”

Minho shot them both a glare before shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s just a project. No big deal.”

But it was a big deal. Because every time he was around (Y/N), he turned into the version of himself he didn’t recognize—awkward, uncertain, and far too aware of every glance, every word, every silence. She had this way of looking at him, like she could see past the walls he’d built, and it unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

The first meeting was scheduled for the library, an attempt to maintain some semblance of professionalism. Minho arrived early—an unfamiliar habit—but he told himself it was because he wanted to pick the best table. Definitely not because he was nervous.

He chose a spot near the back, where the shelves of books created a semi-private alcove. The table was sturdy, the chairs comfortable, and the lighting just bright enough to work without being harsh. He set his bag down, pulled out his notebook, and tried to focus on the assignment sheet. But his mind kept drifting, replaying every interaction he’d ever had with (Y/N), searching for clues on how to navigate this.

When she finally arrived, balancing her laptop and a stack of books, she gave him a polite nod. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Minho replied, sitting up straighter than necessary. He gestured to the chair across from him. “I figured this spot would be quiet enough.”

“Good call,” she said, sliding into the seat and setting her things down. She opened her laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her face as she pulled up their assignment. “So, any ideas?”

Minho scrambled to focus. “Uh, yeah. Maybe we could… compare themes? Like, how the author explores identity or something.”

(Y/N) glanced at him, her expression neutral. “That’s vague.”

“Well, it’s a start,” he muttered defensively, crossing his arms over his chest.

She sighed softly, but there was no malice in it. “Okay. Let’s break it down.”

They worked in relative silence, punctuated by occasional questions and the awkward brush of hands when they reached for the same notebook. Minho tried to ignore the way his heart raced at the brief contact, the way her proximity made it hard to think straight. He wasn’t used to feeling this off-balance, and it frustrated him.

But the real shift happened two hours in.

Minho leaned back in his chair, frustrated with a section they couldn’t seem to crack. “This is pointless.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, not looking up from her notes. “The project or your attitude?”

He shot her a look, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes that disarmed him. “Both,” he admitted grudgingly.

She set her pen down and tilted her head, studying him. “Why do you always act like nothing bothers you?”

The question caught him off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve got this… façade,” she said, gesturing vaguely. “Like you’ve got everything figured out. But clearly, you don’t.”

Minho’s jaw tightened. “And you think you’ve got me all figured out?”

She shrugged. “No. But you make it pretty easy to see through the act.”

The words stung more than he expected because they were true. He looked away, his fingers tapping restlessly against the edge of the table. Before he could respond, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it briefly, then stood. “I need a break. Coffee?”

Minho hesitated, then stood too. “Yeah. Sure.”

The café near campus was quiet. They sat by the glass, sipping their drinks, the tension from earlier lingering like static. Minho stirred his coffee absently, watching the steam rise in delicate swirls.

“I didn’t mean to hit a nerve,” (Y/N) said eventually, her voice soft. She stirred her own drink, her gaze fixed on the swirling liquid.

Minho stared at his cup. “I’m just used to people assuming things about me, especially because my parents, well, mostly my father, aren't, well.."

He gets quieter with every word, his expression almost showing the hate he has for himself for even mentioning it, or hatred for his father, it was hard for (Y/N) to tell.

"I don’t usually care, but…”

She knew he wasn't going to continue on with the story about his parents, but (Y/N) let him, knowing that if he wanted to, he will bring it up again when he is ready to tell her.

“But?” she prompted gently, her eyes lifting to meet his.

“But you’re not ‘people,’” he admitted, his voice quieter than he intended.

She blinked, clearly not expecting that. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Well, that’s vague.”

Minho laughed softly, the tension easing slightly. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“You’re not as complicated as you think, Minho,” she added, her gaze steady.

And just like that, the air shifted again.

That night, back in his dorm, Minho couldn’t shake the conversation. He sat at his desk, staring at his phone, his thumb hovering over the anonymous blog app.

Dae was scrolling on his phone, and Q was fiddling with his headphones, oblivious to Minho’s internal turmoil. Without overthinking, Minho typed:

“How do you stop caring about what someone thinks of you when they see through you so easily? Asking for a friend.”

He hit send before he could regret it, then tossed his phone aside, burying his face in his hands.

The next project meeting was different.

They worked in her dorm this time, Kitty buzzing around briefly before leaving with a sly, knowing grin. Minho tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the papers spread across the floor. For whatever reason, (Y/N), decided to dress up. Not that it mattered, in Minho's Eyes, she, for whatever reason, wasnt physically capable of ever looking bad anyway. She always looked… effortless.

“Do you ever write just for yourself?” Minho asked suddenly, surprising even himself.

She glanced up, her brow furrowing slightly. Minho wondered what that look was about, but decided not to question it for now

“Sometimes. Why?”

“Just curious.”

She hesitated, then reached for a notebook tucked under a pile of papers. “I guess writing helps me make sense of things. Even if no one reads it.”

Minho nodded, understanding more than he wanted to admit. “Yeah. I get that.”

After a pause, she added softly, “It’s scary, though. Being honest on paper.”

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “But it’s scarier being honest out loud.”

Their eyes met, something unspoken passing between them. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the weight of their shared vulnerability hanging in the air.

"I..", Minho hesitated, his eyes flicking between hers and the wall behind her.

The Room was dim, light enough to see the papers, but dark enough to hide (Y/N)'s quick glance at the subtle twitch in Minho's jaw.

Which is exactly why her next movement caught him so off-guard.

She lifted her hand, placing it on his cheek and softly caressing his jawline with her thumb.

Minho was used to romantic affection and the touches that came with it, with this many people wanting to get atleast a part of you it was like a handshake at best, at least thats what he would usually think.

But this was...something else entirely.

His eyes went wide, looking at her without even attempting to hide it.

She chuckled, giving him a smile before leaning close to him, his eyes quickly switching from her eyes to her lips, only to repeat the same motion.

To his dissatisfaction, she only wrapped her arms around him tightly, rubbing small circles into his back. He hugged her back just as tight, without thinking about it at all

Minho was uncertain, but they almost felt heart shaped. Whether that was just his imagination, or reality, he didnt dare to ponder about it further.

She let go of him, resorting to only grabbing his hand and giving in three subtle squeezes.

Before either of them could break the moment by saying anything, Kitty burst through the door, dramatically complaining about Yuri, effectively shattering the tension.

But it didn’t matter.

Because the only thing he could think about, was how she didnt move her hand, not even by an inch, and to him, it felt like a promise.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

winston my quant of billions

[strqyr]

(this is for an au) jaune is from patch. his family owns a big farm not too far from the main town of the island that has been in the family for generations. crocea mors still exists as a family heirloom as well, but the last it was used in any kind of proper combat—against grimm or not—goes way back, before / during the great war.

despite the close proximity to signal, he never attended the combat school; being a hunter wasn't exactly a family occupation, and while jaune had his own dreams, his struggles with unlocking his aura put a fast stop to them.

jaune, of course, would know about ruby and yang; how could he not? their family is practically team strq! (he might be a bit of a fan) plus, before their educational paths diverged, he did use to be in the same class with yang; they weren't friends—frankly, jaune would be surprised if yang even knew his name, let alone remember that they used to go to school together—but being classmates for a few years must count for something... right?

anyway... idk where i was going with this. something something jaune still cheats his way to beacon bc maybe he's a little jealous? of yang and ruby because their life and family basically primed them to become huntresses and he wants that life too but he's an arc or something and all he has is a family heirloom he doesn't even know how to use really and no one to train him.

parallels. or something.

[pastellmochi]

non paralive moots im begging yuo listen to my wife singing

[ttsukiimi]

───〃★ C’MERE, BRING THAT D⍣CK HERE .ᐟ

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ You’ve been a good wife—you really have! But when your husband’s boss confronts you about him cheating with his secretary, you just can’t help but take up his offer to get back at him.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ nanami x fem!reader, gojo x fem!reader, Sukuna x fem!reader, geto x fem!reader, cheating (not reader), smut (mdni), exhibitionism (sukuna, gojo), slight n⍣pple play, slight cl⍣t play, slight creamp⍣e (geto), full Nelson (gojo), office s⍣x.

〃★ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ I was gonna add toji but realized his broke assss not the boss of anyone🤧

────〃ଘ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 - NICE ‘N SLOW

The wooden legs of his desk scrapped against the floor with every deep thrust, important paperwork scattered all over from how much he had you squirming from his slow, calculated movements. Your nails dug into the wood, scratching and latching onto the edge as your back arched, a cry of pleasure bubbling from your throat.

Was this wrong somehow? No. Your cheating scum of a husband should receive the treatment he’s given you. And you almost wished he’d walk in on the sight of his boss balls deep in his wife. Well, ex-wife, anyway.

Nanami leaned in to your ear and you shivered, feeling his breath fan past your neck, smelling his cologne and—fuck, you could feel his muscles through this suit against your back. “Hope you’ve finally found your worth. He never deserved you.”

His words entered one ear and came out the other with how hazy he had you feeling, cock penetrating you over and over in a cycle that had you feeling delirious. Your head spun, and the world seemed to blur from existence—except for Nanami; his hands, his words, his voice.

“I’ll make you feel better—cum better than he ever has.”

────〃ଘ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 - I’LL DO IT INSTEAD

Now, Satoru had always had his eyes on you. From the very first moment you came into the office, bringing your husband his forgotten lunch, he knew he had to have you. The whole interaction left him feeling bitter anyway—he only waved you off after he grabbed his lunch and refused to kiss you in front of his colleagues.

What kind of man was he?

Satoru had no problem fucking you in front of him, though.

You watched your husband’s wide eyes, embarrassed but basking in your sweet revenge. A smirk graced Satoru’s lips, his own focused on your husband’s flickering gaze from how he split your cunt open so lewdly to your bouncing tits as if in a trance.

“‘S how’s it feel? Watching your pretty little wife get ruined?” He breathed, strong arms folding you further into the full Nelson position he had you locked in. “You turned on, hm? Seein’ her lil’ cunt get fucked?”

Your eyes closed and your tongue lolled out, head thrown back onto Satoru’s shoulder as your hand came down to pinch your pulsing clit in circles.

Satoru peppered kisses upon your jawline and stopped by your ear. “Why don’t you tell him how good ‘m making you feel?”

────〃ଘ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 - DO IT BETTER!

You’d always had your eye out for your husband’s particularly hot and intimidating boss, though you’d always stray your gaze away from him out of respect and loyalty. Respect and loyalty that your husband never seemed to reciprocate.

And when his boss finally confirmed that he was cheating on you—you’d finally given into your fantasy of fucking him.

But this isn’t how you imagined your fantasy would go.

Everyone’s eyes were glued to you, either out of fear of what Sukuna would do or out of pure infatuation from how wet your cunt was. You sat on Sukuna’s lap, legs spread open for anyone and everyone to see—even your spouse whose face was a mix of anger and confusion.

He didn’t have the right to be mad right now.

You were almost about to curse him out when Sukuna slid in with one swift thrust. Your breath caught in your throat, tears already welling in your eyes as he began to move without giving you even a second to adjust to his abnormal size.

He bounced you on his lap, heavy balls smacking against your ass so loudly it resonated throughout the meeting room. His big hands groped your chest though your blouse, practically ripping it off you.

“I’ll show you fuckers how to properly fuck a pretty lil’ thing like her.”

────〃ଘ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 - LIKE YOU DESERVE

Heat creeped up into your face. You hadn’t expected your day to amount to anything—considering your husband’s boss had told you about his affair just a day before—but there you were, sat on the same man’s lap as he fucked up into your cunt.

I’ll fuck you like you deserve. Those were his words—the words that got you here in the first place.

Suguru’s fingers toyed with the hood of your clit, pinching the nub of nerves in such a gentle yet pleasurable way that had shocks of electricity rocking through you. Your legs shook and quivered with how wide he had you spread them, muscles beginning to feel sore after some amount of time.

But Suguru hadn’t had his fill yet, he had to show you—make you feel what your husband couldn’t do to your body. So, with his cock still pumping in and out of you recklessly, two fingers entered your mouth while his unoccupied hand pinched and twisted your hardened nipples.

“Suck,” he ordered, and you did. It was almost embarrassing how fast you complied, wrapping your tongue around his thick digits as you suckled on them, excess saliva dribbling down your chin.

And it was all so lewd. The ring of cum coating his cock from both your multiple orgasms, your red and pulsing clit, your moans—and shit. If Suguru knew one thing it was one thing only; he would keep his promise and fuck you like you deserve.

[ybklix]

the project

★ pairing: softdom!bangchan x inexperiencedfem!reader

✦summary: Just when you were a little upset about being assigned to a partner on an important project because you felt he was not very competent, you gradually discovered how much he can help you, more than you could have imagined.

♡ genre - warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, college au, cunnilingus, dry humping, fingering, clitplay, marking, pet names, slight praise and corruption kink, multiple orgasms, slow burn maybe

word count: 7.7k

request ⭑.ᐟ (sorry if it took so long babesss ly)

masterlist - taglist ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

miniplaylist: earn it by the weeknd / motive by ariana grande / fetish by selena gomez

notes: reader wears glasses

“Alright, before you go, I posted in the announcements who you will be doing the project with, please check well who you were assigned with” sentenced the teacher, taking his stuff.

You sighed, you had completely forgotten to check your notification tray for any notice from the app assigned by your professors for your subjects. You quickly grabbed your cell phone, unlocking it to look for your name next to another of your classmates to work together, you wanted to check it now so you wouldn't let go of whoever you were assigned to on a project of high importance to you.

And there it was. Bang Chan. You didn’t have any expression, you didn’t know him very well, but his face sure was quite familiar to everyone. You looked up in search of your partner, reflexively adjusting your glasses, and looked around the room until you found the guy, who was also sitting there checking his cell phone, and looked up to look for you, exchanging glances.

Chan was quite popular, charming, he was attractive and athletic but he also had a taste for complicated subjects, after all he was in a career where merely numbers and physics were required. And your project was something you were not going to take lightly, besides you had a short time period, it was just Thursday and the professor wanted the most perfect project on Monday and, you knew he was secretly hoping for something extraordinary as you were the best in his class.

You saw Chan approach you, and you couldn’t help but judge him at first sight, he was popular, he was part of a fraternity, and he had a reputation among women; deep inside you felt that he was not the perfect candidate to pair in an academic project but you tried to relax and not stress too much, it would only be a quantum model of which you already had your objective and ideas of what to do, the problem was a bit of paperwork where you had to explain in detail perfectly every part of the model, followed by a few long equations that made your head hurt just thinking about them.

You couldn’t help it, school and your major were never something you joked about, you were there to study and excel if at all possible, you loved to retain information and be complimented on your hard work, and you were always an overachiever from day one.

Finally, after years of sharing the same major, for the first time you observed Bang Chan up close and in detail. You looked up as he was standing and you were sitting. He really was handsome and you recognized him instantly, he had a face in perfect harmony with the rest of his muscular body, he was wearing all black, black combat boots, black jeans slightly tight on his thick athletic thighs and a plain black cloth shirt, highlighting more his tanned ivory skin. You suddenly felt nervous, after all you weren’t a robot and you were still a young woman, stressed out and a college student spending more time on campus than anywhere else; so your brain instantly processed that he was one of the most handsome and popular men on campus, near you, paying attention to you.

“Y/n, you’re my partner, for the project,” he said, with a tender smile revealing unusual dimples beside his smile.

You nodded being a little surprised that he knew who you were instantly, also thinking that you had never heard his voice before, the class wasn’t that interactive anyway, in fact almost none of them were, so you rarely heard him speak in the four classes you shared. You didn’t know what exactly you felt inside you… but you liked it, you were starting to recognize Chan’s hype, from what commonly many other girls thought, yes he was attractive and he took advanced physics classes with that face? It seemed unreal.

You suddenly thought that to take advanced physics classes was for a reason, it seemed criminal to have that face, body and reputation but in the mornings to take hard subjects.

“Mmhum” you hummed coming out of your trance, concentrating on the main thing, the project, “I have an idea of what to do, I can divide what materials we would occupy, to work together and do it, if you want to discuss what it is, we can go outside and talk…”

“Okay, let’s go but I’m sure I’ll agree with you” he suddenly interrupted you, leaving you with the words unfinished in your mouth and this one slightly open.

You nodded again and stood up abruptly, finally walking out of the room.

Chan saw you with tenderness, the truth was that for a long time you had caught his attention and he had his eye on you. Since last semester, in one of your final projects before leaving for summer vacation, since then Chan has not stopped thinking about you, since you spoke so clearly and confidently, like a little know-it-all, you were like a challenge for him, something so unreachable and difficult to achieve; since then he did not associate with more women and lived his day to day with the satisfaction of seeing you far away from the classroom. It seemed like he wasn’t, but he really got shy when it came to you, as he had you on a pedestal where you were a beautiful girl, intelligent, worried about her grades and made proper use of the university campus, genuinely studying. Chan had this innocent crush on you —at the beginning—, you had a nerdy, innocent and docile appearance and your voice was so unique, from one day to the next you drove him crazy and, when he found out that by fate you would work on a project and that there was a perfect excuse to get close to you, his heart wanted to burst out of his chest and he almost went running to give head to his professor for choosing such a perfect match, finally, after months of just seeing you.

Chan sighed, following you and listening attentively to you speak, completely fascinated in you and finding it difficult to retain the information you were telling him about something extremely important and which you spoke passionately about, all his mind could see was you, moving your lips, while the wind moved your hair gracefully, for him you were just saying blah blah, Chan; he only retained information when you pronounced his name. Chan licked his lips, absorbed in your eyes and then your lips, leaning towards you, causing you a little nervousness. Chan frowned softly, his hands clasped behind his back, nodding, pretending to be listening to you. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, the excitement and innocence of liking and being interested in someone; before you, he lived from one-night stands and on the edge, trying every girl, until he was satisfied, but you, there really was genuine interest.

“Ammh, can you text me everything anyway to my number?” he said, absolutely lost on the topic as he focused on your sudden closeness.

You nodded with a smile that made him melt, he liked you way too much and immediately handed you his cell phone so you could take down your number.

“Mm, how about if we start working on this from tomorrow? I think it will take some time and if we do it sooner is better” you commented, to which Chan nodded frantically at your slightest request.

Then he thought, he had to tutor students in grades below him, go to the gym and then he had a birthday party for one of his dorm mates; but he couldn’t say no to you, he could cancel everything if possible to spend the whole day with you, plus of course, the project was important.

You bit the inside of your cheek somewhat nervously, feeling kind of silly that the only times you invite a cute guy to meet and see each other is only for college work.

“How about tomorrow at 5?” you said again.

Chan felt so fulfilled, it wasn’t a date but he would finally see you outside the classroom, close up.

“Sure! There’s a coffee shop around here two blocks from campus, let’s go tomorrow to work on the project and if you want to eat I’m buying, it doesn’t matter” he smiled at you.

Now you were the one who was somehow captivated by his smile.

“Yes…”

“I’ll send you the address to meet us there.”

Chan was more than excited to at least spend more time with you.

[…]

You were particularly nervous for some reason, since yesterday you kept thinking that genuinely Chan looked like a nice guy, he was kind, attentively answered your messages and easily understood every single thing you told him about the topic for the assignment. Plus he was quite attractive. And your friends started to bother you a little bit too, making you rethink the whole situation…

In your time in college you only concentrated on your classes, you did have the occasional crush on the occasional guy, but no one worth your valuable time. So you got over it right away and went on with your quiet —and stressful— college life, however… that had led you to be completely inexperienced. The issue never bothered you, until you were about to meet another attractive man whom you had a concept that he was absolutely the opposite of you, partying, sociable and charismatic.

But once you arrived and found him there, you realized the similarities you shared, after all you were both studying the same major. You got to know him a little, relaxing the atmosphere, you learned that he had studied to please his father but that somehow he was great at mathematics which softened his studies. That he tutored and that he played a lot of sports. He really seemed nice and his eyes sparkled when he talked to you, an inexplicable fact for you, a reality that he was talking to his crush, for Chan.

And then it was time to meet you. You didn’t quite know what to say, more that your major choice was a matter of enjoyment and you were happy studying what you had been chosen to study. You felt slightly silly since there wasn’t much to say, or at least you thought so at the time.

Then between the pleasant conversation and a cup of coffee for you, and three for Chan, you continued working on the written work, both concentrated and absorbed that the time passed so fast for you, giving you 10 o'clock at night, just the closing time of the coffee shop.

You both picked up your things in sorrow, you had made enough progress, but there was still quite a bit left to do and that made you uneasy somehow, you couldn’t help it, you were going to be quiet until it was finished or almost done, so you suddenly blurted out:

“You live in a frat, right?”

“Mmhu, yes” Chan replied somewhat embarrassed.

He suddenly felt pathetic to be part of such an outdated tradition system.

You sighed, you both carried all the stuff to make the model and had to assemble it as soon as possible. Once again the cool autumn wind hit your bodies.

“We can go to my apartment to… continue” you added, looking him in the eyes and avoiding using the word finish so Chan wouldn’t be forced and feel it tedious.

Chan nodded softly when in reality he was more than excited to meet your place. The two of you took an app ride to your building just a few minutes away from campus.

You weren’t a big fan of college dorms and you weren't interested in joining a sorority either, so a quiet apartment in a neighborhood in the middle of the busy city was more than enough for you.

Chan didn’t think he was able to contain his excitement, watching you fondly in the night light as you made your way to your apartment; until finally arriving where he naturally asked you:

“And do you have roomates?”

He found it a bit impressive that you live a bit far from campus in a decent building on your own.

“Umhm, at the moment I don’t have any but I’m looking and I have candidates.”

Chan nodded in understanding and inwardly thinking that it would be more than a treat to be able to see your apartment. You really were looking for a roommate, living alone and being a college student paying for everything could be stressful.

“You can leave things on the table” you said, also leaving your laptop there.

He listened to you and slyly looked around the place. It was a nice place, with just enough room for you and someone else, with a big window reflecting the lights from the building across the street. You a little, not uncomfortable, but strange to have a man in your apartment looked so out of the ordinary, if you were even sharing time with another man was something abnormal, let alone a handsome and popular guy like Chan was.

“Well…” you spoke, somewhat nervously, lifting your glasses to rest the bridge of your nose for a second, rubbing it gently, suddenly you looked into the kitchen and were embarrassed to realize you hadn’t eaten and he would probably be hungry, “God, I never asked, do you want some dinner? I tend to forget about food when I’m under some pressure.”

Chan looked at you tenderly at first as you spoke, then his expression changed to one of concern.

“Are you skipping meals? Are you stressed now?”

His sudden answers surprised you.

“Oh, no, it’s just that… I usually work and do homework continuously that it’s very common that from time to time, I don’t eat, but if you want to do it we can order something, it’s kind of late” you answered somewhat nervously, the tiredness and Chan’s attractive image in your apartment were starting to be a certain kind of effect.

“Alright. Let’s order something” he smiled, Chan wasn’t that hungry but hearing that you used to skip meals he wanted you to be fed well instantly, besides if you were going to finish the project, he wanted to have all the energy he needed.

You smiled nervously and soon after you started your activity, you typed fast in your essay, Chan was in charge of assembling the model without difficulty. Then dinner arrived, both of you were already tired, your only time to stop was in the small talk in the coffee shop and when you headed to your place.

“Can you pick up dinner? I’ll go change” you blurted out suddenly, in a deep tone of voice as you were tired, a little more relaxed with Chan.

He saw you, he was surprised, since you had not spoken to each other for minutes since you were both concentrated in what you were doing —unlike him who also paid attention to you from once in a while—, your tone of voice seemed to him suddenly and somehow, something so captivating and seductive that he kept watching you, who you, without taking any notice of Chan standing in front of you on the other side of the table, took off the oversized cardigan you were wearing, somewhat exhausted in search of something more comfortable to be in your own apartment, leaving you only with the thin white tank top you were wearing underneath that garment.

Chan couldn’t believe it, he was transfixed and completely hypnotized by your action, absorbed seeing every detail, slightly exposing your chest through the circular neckline of the blouse, your shoulders, your arms and your figure tightly wrapped in the fabric. Chan swallowed nervously clenching his fist, he felt so pathetic going crazy just because you showed so little of your skin. His eyes traveled quickly all over your body, not wanting to miss any detail.

You noticed it, you felt his gaze on you and saw him confused, you felt so watched and analyzed, you could only say:

“I’ll go to… put on something more comfortable.”

Chan reacted instantly, letting out a nervous chuckle and nodding, turning to pick up the food left at your door. You didn’t know exactly how to feel, his gaze was so new to you, you had never felt such expressive eyes glued to you from another boy…. or probably they used to look at you like that, but you never paid attention to them, but with Chan, it was inevitable not to pay attention to him, he was with you, alone, in such a nice night; your mind was spinning, thinking about the infinity of things that usually means when two young people are alone and attracted to each other but, did you really like Chan or were you already losing your mind because of tiredness and stress, you didn’t know well, you were ridiculously inexperienced that your concept of attraction was maybe based on movies or experiences told by your friends.

Still you decided to ignore the thoughts and wanted to get comfortable at home, you had been wearing jeans for hours and you were dying to take them off, you would take off your bra if you could but you didn’t feel confident enough, so you left that tank top on and put on the comfortable shorts, your body was starting to heat up and you knew exactly why, but you didn’t want to accept it. You returned, finding Chan preparing food on the small nightstand between your living room, greeting you with a smile and gently asking you if it was okay to eat there to which you nodded.

Once again, Chan ran his gaze over your body, he had never seen you like this before, the sudden exposure of your body drove him crazy and made him feel sick, nor did he want to feel this way as it seemed unhinged and depraved, but he couldn’t help it, there was no turning back. At first it was a cute crush on you, then it involved a couple of desires and dirty thoughts that wouldn’t leave his mind. Chan, like any interested guy, casually asked among his friends if they knew you to which none of them knew how to answer, only a guy a year older than him, who was also in the same faculty, saying that you were very pretty but that there was no record of you dating on or off campus, that you were so reserved and that he wouldn’t be surprised that you were probably just studying, in the end he revealed that he had confessed to you and you had rejected him without giving him any reason. Chan’s silly and immature friends joked that you might still retain your innocence and that girls with a certain nerdy appearance used to be somewhat transcendental in sex, that they were shy and innocent at first but once you give them your trust to give them pleasure they were…

Chan refused those thoughts outright, dismissed them as misogynistic and was upset for days. He did get to see your innocence but it wasn’t something he fantasized about sexually, in fact, he never fantasized sexually about you, until that comment fucked with his head.

Because it was true, your private life was so private, you were not known to have had or dated anyone on campus and he found you so fucking interesting suddenly overnight, two intentions merged, Chan could desire you so purely by holding your hand and filling you with kisses, at the same time he could desire from you to fill you with his cum and fuck you to exhaustion. At the moment he was balancing the situation so well, he was doing so well that he had learned to stay away so long, as he didn’t know how to handle it, until now when the opportunity to be with you presented itself.

Chan was thinking about the fact that he hadn’t fucked a virgin woman since high school, when he lost his virginity to his first girlfriend too… but you had him all messed up and he could promise to be just as sweet to you if you give him the chance.

He cleared his throat and tried to come out of his trance, but when you approached him it was his dream and doom, looking to him so beautifully carefree in your shorts and tank top; still Chan did his best to behave himself and not want to ruin what he felt was just beginning.

You both started to eat sitting on the floor, close to each other, at first a little awkward, but quickly Chan knew how to soften the atmosphere, saying the right words and bringing up conversation topic after conversation topic, just to take your thoughts away a little, otherwise an incredible tension would have formed, as you were already starting to look at him closely and by the end of the night, you finally recognized how much you could get to like him, he was funny, handsome and you shared the same interests academically, you thought he could even be almost perfect. When you finished and cleaned up a bit, Chan watched you, so determined towards the project, going quickly towards it, ready to finish it, the truth was that you didn’t know exactly how to react, what would be the next move and you just got distracted escaping towards the project. He, somewhat frustrated, continued with you, just to keep breathing your sweet scent and to see your body in your comfortable home clothes.

Half an hour later, the meal instead of lifting Chan’s spirits did quite the opposite, relaxing him and making him tired and sleepy, plus the continuous hard work was beginning to stress him, but being with you rewarded him for everything except the tiredness in him, unfortunately. Chan watched you carefully, working non-stop, talking to him about the project with your deep and slightly tired tone of voice that seemed to Chan so seductive, he was beginning to lose himself, he was between drowsiness and desire, looking boldly at you, without thinking straight, he was about to hush you, take you and put you on his lap so you could both rest and, if possible, he would take you to bed, telling you how hard you work and that you should rest, that college matters, but not as much as yourself.

You once again noticed his heavy gaze on you, you saw how it was so likely that this time he was not paying attention to what you were saying, how he licked his lips and you became more nervous, more than the previous times, there was something so heavy in his presence that you had never felt before, you did not complain but you felt that at any moment it could get out of control… you thought if this was the sexual tension that you had only heard about.

Chan carved his eyes tiredly, he didn’t know how to stop you or tell you no, but your voice was stimulating him more and more, in a way to put him to bed and not exactly to sleep. Chan could only think of how suddenly he wanted to almost kiss you to shut you up and make you feel good.

You had already noticed his behavior, at times he looked tired, at times he looked at you in a way that made your hair stand on end.

Finally, he called your name, so serious, with a tone of voice that surprised you, made you stop talking about equations for a moment and look him straight in the eye. His gaze was dark and penetrating, you had never been seen like that before. You were both sitting next to each other, working close, so Chan leaned towards you, so ready to say what he felt from the start, he didn’t know exactly what he would say but he’d make sure he had you tonight; he was in agony, he couldn’t take it anymore with the sudden tension that escalated quickly and with your particular voice that was starting to excite him to stratospheric levels, and having him there in misery, unable to do anything, that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for.

He licked his lips and every part of you saw it coming, you knew it so deep down, you weren’t that dumb, his look and little actions spoke for themselves, you knew Chan was lusting after you and you panicked slightly not knowing what to do.

“You can take a nap if you want” you suggested kindly with a smile, hiding your nervousness at having him around, “You look tired, it’s okay.”

Chan was about to protest, he saw you confused and got caught in your captivating but hard to read gaze, your glasses reflected his tired body and unsweet intentions, so he decided to take a step back and agree, somehow he felt embarrassed and decided it was still better to keep his distance, even though that wasn’t specifically what he wanted.

He nodded, with a smile and somewhat embarrassed, “Really? You’re okay with that? I don’t want to leave you..”

He did get tired, but now he didn’t know if it was from the continuous work or from not being able to do anything with you.

You didn’t know why you did it, but you grabbed his shoulders and nodded, eyes shining, feeling so good to touch his strong body. You hadn’t touched him, maybe you just wanted to play a little and decided to kill your curiosity, how a man like Chan felt.

Chan subtly saw your hands on his shoulders and lost his mind again, but he sighed, calming down and getting up from his chair to rest his body on the couch. You no longer said anything, again the tension returned, with a silence. As much as Chan didn’t want to think about it, he thought of your smile, the way you spoke to him and of your gaze suddenly meaning so much to him, your bright eyes, almost asking to be touched by him, he could feel it, but he felt paranoid for a second, to which he only let his body fall on your couch, with his forearm on his forehead, the other hand on his abdomen and his head leaning back on a cushion, slowly closing his eyes, shutting off every one of his thoughts for a moment.

But it was true, you didn’t know how to say it, but being touched by Bang Chan just now didn’t sound so crazy to you. You were so ready but so not ready at the same time, you wanted to do it, you didn’t know how to tell him, it scared you since you didn’t know how to do it and you were in a continuous internal battle. You were slightly insecure, he was handsome and popular, with much more experience than you and, maybe it was something typical that you like Chan, since everybody likes him, but you were dying to try him even once…

Fifteen minutes later, of which you found incredibly stressful, as you continued to work on the project, chasing away every thought and more than okay with Chan staying quiet and napping on your couch, as you liked him incredibly well, you checked the time and became a little alert when you saw that it was almost one in the morning and you had no notion of time, you understood that Chan’s tiredness was justifiable and almost necessary and you were already starting to feel more stressed, as well as embarrassed by the fact that you had kept Chan working on the project so late. You reproached yourself, debating whether to wake him up and tell him that you could continue tomorrow, that it was almost done and you were missing something so minimal… or if you should let him stay over just for tonight since it was late.

You didn’t think so much about it though, as you suddenly felt large hands on your shoulders, massaging you and scaring you slightly. Chan giggled, he had woken up, more energetic and with the great intensity and willpower to try with you, something in him told him so and it was something he couldn’t ignore, so, without you noticing, he came up behind you, finding you still in the same position, working.

“God, Y/N, you need to relax, okay? It’s late you should rest, you’re really working hard on this.”

Your body tensed incredibly more, you really didn’t expect it, much less that he was touching you, with a slightly thicker voice than usual. You raised your gaze, his long fingers were still resting on your shoulders, magically he looked better than a moment ago, more energetic and with a flirtatious expression on his face.

“You’re awake already…” you replied nervously, not wanting to scare him away, like a few minutes ago.

“Just like you, it’s late. Has anyone ever told you how hard you work? Are you usually this demanding of yourself?”

You didn’t understand what was going on, it was as if he had suddenly changed but at the same time he was still the same and there was something that pleased you so much, like the sudden touch towards you.

You nodded, somewhat submissive with your head spinning not knowing how to react properly. Chan took the chair with agility, sitting down in front of you, stopping touching you and leaving you perplexed, blinking slowly letting you think that you were so tired that maybe you fell asleep deeply and that all this was just a dream. But it was so real and suddenly you were so awake.

“Leave all that for a moment…” he whispered slowly, gently removing the pencil from your hand and placing it on the table, “Let me take care of you.”

“What?”

Chan didn’t touch you again, he just stared at you, long and determined seconds that made you feel the lack of him in you. He leaned back in the chair, enjoying your tender expression of confusion. He had enough, he would try, he would do it for the incredible, heavy tension between you, and if you didn’t want to, he was going to understand but he already knew that was so unlikely. So he was direct, he always was, there was just something about you that kept him shy, but not anymore, he wanted you, he needed you, it was almost as if the night was asking for it too, something in the air drew you to each other irrevocably.

“You deserve to relax. I want you. Just tell me what you want, whether you want it or not, I won’t be weird about it afterwards, I promise, I just… can’t get you off my head, I need you.”

“How?” you mumbled, still in disbelief.

Chan smiled sideways, chuckling softly. “You know how. Want me to show you, sweetie?”

You nodded softly, wanting to put all shyness aside but you couldn’t control it, you were turned on and it was your first time in a situation like this, with intense tension that you even heard every breath and loud heartbeat in your ears.

You had done it before, kissing boys but the experiences were so insignificant that you hardly remember it or count it as experience, since you had learned nothing.

Chan moved dangerously close to you, resting his big hands on your bare thighs, stretching slightly and attractively his neck detonating little veins, his big straight nose so close to your face, with a smug smile, he said again:

“Can I kiss you?”

And it took only a small push of your yielding body to touch his lips, feeling at first the softness and plumpness of his full lips at the impact. Your body temperature rose madly, new sensations were taking over your body, it wasn’t the same ones that you had done before, his kisses were deeper, steady and passionate that it was hard to keep up with him and you were in between enjoying and thinking you wanted to do it right.

You let yourself go but you were still tense and Chan noticed it in the instant, with your body slightly trembling, he just wanted to make you feel good so he gently pulled away from you, leaving you missing the feel of his lips.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, squeezing your thighs, feeling your muscle tense.

But your face reflected something else, your eyes were shining seeing every detail of Chan’s face up close, you were so ready but you had the tingle of wanting to get it right. He could see your nervous body, your countenance begging, still he didn’t want to continue if you were going to be nervous and almost resisting, he couldn’t read you clearly, he was really turned on, the slightest interaction with you made his body very blissful.

You denied, you knew you were so stiff and situations like these needed two relaxed bodies giving themselves, you were nervous but decided to confess it:

“It’s just… I want to do it right.”

Chan’s smile widened, your kiss was so tender and shy that thoughts of your innocence came back to his mind, he wanted to try so many things with you and make you explore, but he didn’t want you to feel insecure so he would patiently teach you step by step if necessary.

“It’s okay, baby, let me handle it” he whispered, with an endearing and understanding tone, still close to you, everything about him made you pleasantly uneasy, “I can teach you, just for your pleasure, okay?”

You nodded, lost in him, you noticed he looked genuinely interested and patient. Chan moved away again, leaning back in the chair, rubbing and patting his thigh with his veiny hand that was having an effect on you.

“Come here, to teach you how to do it better, although I was already loving the way you were doing it, princess.”

Chan ran his tongue over the bottom of his front teeth, waiting for you, and for you, every sentence of his almost made you sigh, you were so turned on, you knew exactly the feeling, you needed Chan now. You were a hot mess, you wanted and needed him so quickly and without much thought, you sat on his lap, trying to put your embarrassment aside, you sat down facing him, with your legs in the air on either side of the chair, Chan was surprised and felt so delightful your weight on his erection, he didn’t think you were going to position yourself like that but you left him absolutely charmed.

“I’m going to kiss you, try to keep up with me and move your sweet lips over mine, relax and let yourself go, beautiful, okay?”

He again took hold of your face with one hand and the other held your waist, you felt his sweet kiss at the same time you were dealing with the bulge between his pants pressing against your pussy. He was so hard, you could feel it if only through the slightly thick, rough denim of his black jeans. Chan was dressed so attractively, in a plain white shirt and leather jacket that he left on the rack in your entryway, with long silver chains decorating his collar and thick bracelets on his right wrist. You could feel how big he was, despite having clothes on, the thought of seeing a cock for the first time made your skin bristle with excitement, just imagining Chan, as something in yourself told you he should look so fucking good naked.

“Open your mouth wider” he whispered, panting and over your lips after a loud crash of your lips, as you parted almost non-existent inches apart.

You obeyed him and agilely he took you again, this time introducing his tongue and making the act slower and more sensual, so captivating that he even managed to relax you, you only lived from the sensation of letting yourself be carried away by him and with your face leaning on his hand. They had never made you feel this way that you slowly resented your throbbing pussy in desperation, suddenly so wet begging for attention.

“Mmm, I love your kisses, fuck” he mumbled senselessly as he pulled inches away from you.

You kept kissing, his face colliding with your glasses, but you didn’t want to take them off as you didn’t want to miss any tiny detail every time you parted for seconds. Chan, sesually and panting moved his kisses down your neck, filling your body more with euphoric and new sensations, his lips brushed your neck, giving soft and small sounding kisses until he subtly licked it, to suck your sensitive skin, using his teeth, causing you a pleasurable and short sting that reached every corner of your body, making you moan and leaving a mark on you.

His hands went down to your torso, to lift your blouse and finally feel the brush of his hands across your soft skin, he squeezed of your body, slowly lowering his lips, resisting the urge to fuck you hard, enduring the pain of his throbbing stiff cock trapped in his pants and being pressed against your body and you continued to feel his lips and the brush of his nose and heavy breathing across your skin going lower and lower, as well as constant little nibbles, leaving fresh new hickeys on you, Chan couldn’t help it, he was going crazy with the idea of you just being his, leaving reddish marks on you and biting your sensitive skin and it just turned you on so much. Reaching your chest, you twitched your body a little, moving it sharply and surprising Chan by the pleasurable friction of you on his cock. He grunted and pulled his lips away from your skin for a second and, almost as if an imaginary light bulb lit up above your head, you understood that being on his erection also made him feel good, as much as it made you feel good, since his erection was rubbing against your pussy, covered only by your wet panties and thin shorts; so you moved, stirring on his cock and intentionally grinding it harder.

Chan moaned, letting out soft, sonorous “A-aah, mmm” and then he raised his gaze, staring into your eyes, causing you to shiver at his lustful stare.

“Fuck, you want to move for me? Go ahead, baby, go fucking enjoy my cock with your clothes on, fuck, are you a little horny? Unable to wait and fucking me with your clothes on. Go ahead, enjoy and cum for me like this” he licked his lips, leveling his face with yours, talking to you in such a sultry tone that it made your cheeks burn.

You were so uselessly horny that you were enjoying to the fullest bouncing on Chan’s cock under the hard denim, pressing all over your pussy, your labia, moving them nimbly that it made you blur your vision.

“Yes-Keep moving, baby, you’re doing so good, beautiful.”

His voice aroused you more and more bringing you so close to your orgasm, you were so concentrated in the sensation of your movements on his cock, you couldn’t stop, you moved your hips and Chan helped you with his hands squeezing your waist; you felt so hot and trapped, so desperate to get your clothes off but you didn’t want to stop, you weren’t going to stop until you were tired, it was as if you had no choice but to climax right now, just like this. Chan watched with desire and tenderness your very focused and excited expression, sighing and straining to make you feel good at the same time you were making him feel that effect on him, squeezing his cock so hard, expelling precum and not so far from his ejaculation.

He admired the marks on your skin, witness and proof of what was happening, the top girl in the class, all aroused rubbing herself on her classmate’s cock, seeking pleasure and her climax. Chan bit his lower lip and caught your lips again, touching your restless and desperate body, he was about to cum. You were starting to get tired but it was a tiredness inexplicably so hot, your chest was burning from the constant strong heartbeat, you were at your limit and you were doing almost nothing, but both of you were a mess of heaving breaths, Chan didn’t want to change anything about you either at that moment, he just squeezed you tightly enjoying every movement until he cum inside his underwear, in a gasp, throwing his head back, feeling one pressure release pleasantly but another coming so abruptly and quickly not wanting to finish yet with you. You held onto his shoulders tightly, pressed your legs into his body, Chan knew you were close so he encouraged you, with a kiss on your mouth half open and words that warmed even your ears:

“Go on, cum, princess, let yourself go… Cum for me.”

You gasped in despair and a little high-pitched moan, you cum all over your panties, leaving you flushed, breathless and with your pussy sticky. Seconds later you wanted to catch your breath, you still felt immobile before his big hands squeezing your body, you were at levels of agitation you didn’t think you’d reach in the near future with another guy.

Chan also had his breath hitching, yet the thought of still not even remotely finishing with you came back to him, reflecting a smile on his face.

“Let me take care of you, okay?”

You looked at him with big pitying eyes which drove him crazy. Chan thought about the idea of your pussy a little battered from being in constant motion with the hard friction of his clothes, he wanted to treat and tend to your sensitive center, now, he needed it.

“Yes, Chan.”

“That’s my good girl” he said proudly, shuddering every inch of you, you felt so good he said little things to you, “Where are you most comfortable, baby? Huh.”

You looked at him for only short seconds, you were so excited and filled with the accelerated feeling not knowing what his next moves would be on you, you were more than willing for anything, for him to take you and fuck you, you just wanted to be filled with that sensation again and more with someone like Chan, who looked so sure of what he was doing and looked so fucking good doing it and in a mode of excitement and pleasure, every part of him was transpiring sex and you were losing your mind little by little.

“In my room, in the hallway of…”

You weren’t even finished, when Chan stood up, carrying you, grabbing your ass and carrying you to your room where he left you sitting on one of the edges of the bed, your feet touching the floor, he positioned himself on his knees in front of you.

“Do you want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?” he said again, once more so excited, about nothing short of taking your clothes off.

“Yes, Chan, p-please.”

You were so needy again, you wanted to be filled with the extreme sensation that seemed to have no end. He smiled.

“I’m going to take off your tiny shorts and panties, yes sweetie?”

You nodded, excited and nervous that he is about to see your private part, but it was throbbing intensely, it was again getting more lubricated and wanted to be treated with attention. Chan tugged at your shorts and panties at the same time, impatient to taste you and merely seeking your pleasure.

He slid the garments down your legs until they were off and admired your wet, glistening pussy, somehow it looked slightly swollen, begging to be attended to and touched.

“You try hard and work hard, you deserve to get your stress off, let me do it…”

Chan said it, in such a thick voice so lost in the image of your pussy. You were so nervous, almost wanting to shiver but you moaned as you felt his lips on the skin of your mons pubis, giving you kisses and leaving little hickeys, nibbling the area, until his mouth took your clit, making you squeal; you were beginning to relax and let yourself be carried away by the tingling of the tip of his index finger caressing your soft, moist vulva, playing with your wetness, until two of his fingers teased your entrance until he inserted his fingers, while his mouth never let go of your sensitive spot, licking and sucking it gently, causing you pleasure and the beginning of trembling in your legs.

Chan fucked you gently and deeply for a few moments, teasing you and reaching sweet places inside your tight pussy, but he withdrew his fingers from you, positioned both his hands on your thighs, squeezing them gently and began to move his mouth all the way down your vulva, licking the right places, sucking delightfully on your labia and filling himself with you, from his chin to his nose, so focused working on you. You felt so hot, somehow he looked so good eating you out while you were a panting mess, arching your back and being pleasured.

He stroked your clit again and sucked gently but with moderate intensity, humming mmm, that caused a sweet vibration in you, you were feeling so good you could feel your second orgasm again. Chan parted your folds so he could rub his mouth better inside them, you were so satisfied you thought of the myth that college boys didn’t know how to eat pussy, but no one like Chan, doing it so expertly he had you soaking wet, whimpering and shivering just with his lips, tongue, and mouth. He moved inches away from your pussy, to spread your entrance with his hand and insert his tongue deep. At the same time, his finger again caressed your clit, bringing you to orgasm, contracting your legs, being careful with him between them, arching your back, and in a loud moan calling out his name, the great sexual tension built up was released with his mouth on your pussy.

Chan didn’t stop working on you until he stopped feeling your last intense trembling and stopped watching your body collapse until it became softer tremors and he smiled. He didn’t think he could leave you alone for now, let alone finish the project now that you were just starting, but right now, his satisfaction was to fulfill his goal, by making you feel good and de-stress a little because you were worth it and deserved it. He was there to give you a good time.

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

𐙚TAGLIST: @khandzilla @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk @lolareadsimagines

[flowersforbucky]

where the lines overlap

logan howlett x reader (dofp!logan x mutant!reader)

word count: 8.7k

summary: no one gets under your skin quite as much as logan howlett - and he knows it, too. sex pollen trope.

warnings/tags: 18+ only mdni, smut, sex pollen so dub con, frenemies to lovers? they aren't enemies but logan and reader don't really get along, reader is a mutant with pyrokinesis, reader is afab, reader is described as being smaller than logan, no use of y/n, wet dream, fuck or die situation, oral, pet names (bub, princess), brief pain kink for logan, unprotected p in v, cream pie

author's note: takes place after the events of days of future past - so everyone's alive, charles is old af, and logan has a pretty streak of silver in his hair. not proofread super well so please ignore any errors.

There's certain things that you like to think about when you're pissed off. It’s a coping mechanism that you learned in therapy at the ripe age of eleven.

Go to your happy place or whatever.

For you, that's the mansion's courtyard after a fresh snowfall, and having the library all to yourself on a rainy day, and the comfort of your bedroom on one of the rare days that you aren’t teaching, or training, or on a mission.

At this point in your life, you’ve forgotten just about everything you were taught in that therapist's office. It's not like you had wanted to be there, but your parents had been worried and scared – and rightfully so. With the unexpected emergence of your pyrokinetic abilities came multiple accidental house fires born out of preteen angst.

So they did the only thing they knew to do at the time – stick you in therapy in hopes you would acquire some anger management techniques.

These days, you have a pretty good handle on your powers. With a lot of time and effort, you learned to control them – and not just control them, but yield them in a beneficial and productive way.

All of that progress comes dangerously close to going out the window anytime you're in close proximity to Logan Howlett.

Maybe all is an exaggeration – but no one else makes your fingertips burn hot with fire that threatens to break through the barrier of your skin quite like him. From his bossiness to his arrogance and attitude, you’ve clashed heads since the first day you met him.

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault.

You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him.

You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass.

A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

He looks at you with an amused expression. “See? Too much force.”

“I didn’t know that having giant forks for hands made you an expert on throwing knives.”

He exhales a breathy laugh, staring at you for several seconds before turning to pick the dagger up from the ground. He then proceeds to collect the rest of the knives that you had previously thrown from the body of the practice target.

In heavy silence, he struts over to you with the daggers in hand. He turns to face a wooden target board, finding the balance point of the knife before sending it flying through the air.

Bullseye.

“A long time ago, when I first joined this team, Charles made me practice a non-power related method of self-defense, too.” He pauses, lining the second dagger up with the practice dummy. To no surprise, it’s another perfect throw.

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

“How to annoy someone by sneaking up on them and giving them unsolicited advice while they are minding their own business?”

You position your feet once again, holding the knife up in preparation to take aim. Your eyes dart back and forth between the blade and the target ahead of you. You hesitate, feeling nervous under his gaze.

Logan moves from standing beside you, to standing behind you. Your breath catches in your throat as his large figure looms over you. If he were to took a step forward, his chest would brush against your back.

He uses the tip of his boot to nudge your heel forward half an inch, adjusting your stance. He takes your right hand in his, and you have to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

A wave of annoyance washes over you that he’s able to fluster you so easily. It makes you as pissed at yourself as it does him. He’s barely touching you – his hand dwarfing yours is the only point of physical contact, but you’d think that he were pinning you up against a wall with his body.

You tell yourself the sudden light-headedness and increased heartrate is because of the newfound closeness, and nothing more. You’re used to being around Logan – the two of you live together and work together. His general presence is nothing new. But the intimacy of your current predicament is.

And maybe the fact that notes of tobacco and bourbon are infiltrating your senses doesn’t help.

“As unsolicited as my advice may be,” he says lowly as he pulls your hand back slightly, “I give it because if there is ever a situation where someone's trying to hurt you, and you’re unable to light them on fire for some reason, I would really hope that you could at least impale them.”

He tightens his hold on your hand, and then snaps both of your wrists forward. Surprisingly, your brain registers to release your grip just in time. When the tip of the blade impales the center of the target perfectly, he drops your hand.

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

“Much better. Now come back upstairs. Charles needs to see all of us in his office.”

••••••

You and Logan are the last people to enter Charles’ office.

Storm, Scott, Jean, Marie, and Bobby have all found places to sit throughout the small room. Logan chooses to lean against the door that clicks shut behind him, while you exhale in relief at the sight of an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, next to Marie.

“Ah, how nice of you two to join us,” Charles greets. “I was starting to think that Logan got lost on his way to retrieve you.”

You force out a laugh, earning a side-eye from Marie as Charles launches back into whatever he had been in the middle of before you two interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Marie murmurs to you. “You looked a little sick when you walked in.”

“Oh, yeah,” you shrug her off without looking at her. You keep your eyes on Charles. “Yeah, I'm just tired. Been training all morning.”

What were you supposed to tell her? That you were thankful to be wearing a tactical suit so that Logan couldn’t see all of the goosebumps that bloomed across your skin when he was practically breathing down your neck less than five minutes ago? Or that the walk back up to Charles’ office was filled with a loaded silence in place of your usual bickering and banter?

Marie might be one of your closest friends, and you trust her, but Logan is something of a fatherly figure to her. There’s no way you’re letting her hear those words come from your mouth.

You try your hardest to focus on all of the information that Charles throws at you. You’re all to leave on a mission early tomorrow morning. When he explains where you’re going and why, chills run down your spine.

Alberta, Canada – more specifically, Alkali Lake. All of your friends seem to tense up at the mere mention of the place.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip, fighting the urge to sneak a glance to try to gauge Logan's reaction. You’ve never been to Alkali Lake before, and you’re far from excited about going – you can only imagine how he feels, given his history with the abandoned military base.

After no word of any activity surrounding the base for years, Charles had been made aware that the recent disappearance of a group of young adult humans had been traced back to Alkali Lake – to a modern day subsidiary of the group Weapon X.

The same group responsible for Logan’s skeleton being made from adamantium.

This, of course, is where all of you come in.

After a detailed rundown of the goals for tomorrow – the main one being safe extraction of the humans – Charles dismisses all of you to rest for the remainder of the day.

When everyone stands up, you finally risk glancing at Logan, but he’s already opening the door to Charles’ office and strutting away.

••••••

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs.

His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly.

You're putty in his hands.

“I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

You can only guess that the sounds he’s referring to are annoyed sighs and you telling him to shut the fuck up, but right now, you don't care enough to ask for any clarification.

“Yeah?” You yelp when his tongue flicks against your swollen clit. “Maybe if you spent less time pissing me off you’d get to—”

You're cut off by him plunging the tip of his index finger inside you. You writhe against him, your walls constricting around the digit.

“Less time pissing you off, more time letting you fuck my fingers and face. Got it.”

The slamming of a door somewhere outside of your room causes you to bolt upright in your bed.

You open your eyes to darkness except for the red glow of the numbers on your digital alarm clock that read 12:26 in the morning. Your heart feels as if it’s going to beat right out of your chest, and your skin is clammy with a thin layer of sweat. You throw your covers away from you in an attempt to cool yourself off.

“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck—”

You whisper the three words to yourself over and over again until your breathing resumes a normal pattern.

You’re alone, of course. In the comfort of your private room, where you had fallen asleep several hours ago. The difference between now and then is an uncomfortable pool of wetness between your legs, soaking your underwear.

You can’t even recall the last time you had such a vivid sex dream. It felt utterly lifelike – you reach down between your legs, trailing your fingers over the skin of your inner thighs where you had felt his beard tickle and tease you.

How the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, when you’re having to work together to rescue humans from Alkali Lake? How are you supposed to come up with smart-ass remarks for his endless taunting and teasing when you’re going to be trying your hardest to not replay the images of his hazel eyes looking up at from between your thighs?

“Get a fucking grip,” you whisper hiss to yourself.

It’s Logan. The same Logan who acted like he was too good to say more than ten words to you the first half a year that you were with the team. The same Logan that tries to get you benched for the dumbest, smallest reasons he can think of. The same Logan that condescendingly calls you kid or princess every chance he gets because he knows it gets under your skin.

You need a glass of water. And some fresh air, and a cold shower—

You start by picking up the pair of sweatpants that you’d discarded before falling asleep a few hours ago. You step back into them, deciding to trek to the kitchen for some ice water. Your mouth feels as dry as cotton.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator.

As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away.

Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

You clear your throat to announce your presence, not quite trusting your voice to speak. He looks at you over his shoulder, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips.

You walk over to the cabinet beside him, keeping your eyes off of him entirely as you get a glass.

“What's got you awake at this hour?” He closes the fridge, leaning back against the edge of the countertop. The only light in the room now comes from the small, dim bulb above the sink.

If he only fucking knew, you think. If he only knew that the real reason you are out of bed right now is because you’d just woken up from an extremely graphic, jarring dream of you riding his face.

You fill the cup up with cold water from the kitchen sink and take a large swig before once again turning to face him.

“Could ask you the same thing,” you answer with a vague gesture to his half-dressed form and beer bottle.

He takes in your appearance, too. His eyes trail from your exposed feet, to your baggy sweatpants, and up to your even baggier t-shirt before settling on your face. You feel particularly vulnerable under his gaze right now. You compare how you look to how he looks – with his stupid abs that look like God himself chiseled them from stone and his sweatpants that hang just a little too comfortably.

You sip on your water just to keep from biting your lip.

“Guess we were both thirsty,” he shrugs as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Guess so,” you hum, and because you don’t want to fall into an awkward silence and it’s the only thing you can think to add, you say, “Nervous about the mission?”

His expression darkens and posture tenses at your question. “I am,” he admits. “And if you knew as much as I do about that place, you’d be nervous, too.”

You huff. Your grip tightens around the glass in your hand at the mere insinuation that he knows your feelings. “Who says that I’m not?”

“If you’re going, you’re not nervous enough.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You take a deep breath, knowing damn well the direction that this conversation is headed. You’d heard it all from him before – anything to keep you as far away from him as possible.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—”

You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over.

“Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

“I’m very aware of how long you’ve been with this team, bub,” he says calmly, which makes you all the more heated.

“For three years you’ve spewed every bullshit reason you can think of to keep me on the sidelines,” you laugh. “I wish you’d fucking admit that you just don’t like me. It’d be a lot more respectable than acting like you’re worried about—”

Logan’s gaze drops to the glass in your hand, making you come to an abrupt pause. You follow his stare, realizing that you’ve managed to melt the glass where your fingertips grip the glass. Water begins to leak out from the holes, spilling onto your sweatpants and the floor below you.

There’s no visible flames emanating from your fingertips. Your anger hadn’t progressed to full on fire, just intense heat, but still. No one else makes you come as close to losing control as him.

No one. And he seems to know it, too. You can tell by the smug look on his face.

You dump what little liquid is left into the sink before chucking the distorted glass into the garbage.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his.

“Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

You rip your hand away from him, an exaggerated look of disgust on your face. Your recent dream pops into your head and you have to remind yourself that he’s not Jean or Charles – he can’t read your mind.

“You're lucky that you've got those handy healing powers,” you spit as you once again begin exiting the kitchen. “If I thought there was a chance of it actually shutting you up, I’d burn more than just Charles’ vintage glassware.”

You hear him say your name, but you’re already speed walking back to your room and playing your list of happy place thoughts on a loop in your head.

The soup that Storm makes when everyone at the school seems to get sick at the same time. One of your younger students picking you a flower. The smell of fresh laundry, the crisp pages of a new book.

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

You would have been better off just enduring the discomfort of a dry throat, you think. You don't know what's worse – not being able to sleep because you're rattled from a wet dream about him, or not being able to sleep because you've once again allowed him to get under your skin.

You crawl back under your covers, hoping that when you close your eyes, you don't see his face again.

••••••

Logan doesn’t make any more appearances in your dreams for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t stop him from being the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in the morning.

And as much as you hate to admit it to yourself, the only thing on your mind the entire flight from New York to Alberta.

From the tension that filled the air when he corrected your knife throwing technique yesterday morning to the warmth of his calloused hand when he grabbed you by the wrist in the kitchen last night, you're fighting a losing battle with no one but yourself.

As far as you can tell, he’s utterly unaffected. The fact that he chose to sit directly in front of you on the jet instead of any of the other empty seats says as much.

Not even ten minutes into the flight, you're staring at the tufts of his hair and his broad shoulders when you have to remind yourself that there's two telepaths occupying this jet with you. Though you trust both Charles and Jean to not read your mind without cause, the mere possibility of either one of them accidentally tuning into your thoughts and seeing a replay of your most recent dream or hearing you think about what it would be like to tug on those stupid fucking tufts of hair that resemble kitten ears is enough to mortify you.

You find yourself grateful that you brought a book and headphones with you to distract yourself for the duration of the trip.

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath.

“Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water.

It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

As much as he infuriates you, you still care about him. You wish you could say that you didn’t, but the fact that you feel the urge to reach out and give his hand a reassuring squeeze makes that pretty hard to deny.

That urge dissipates as quickly as it comes over you. The bitter chill of the mountain wind and your teammates voices pull you back to reality. You awkwardly fiddle with one of the daggers strapped to your thigh instead.

“Jean and Scott, the two of you take the west side of the building,” Charles instructs when the group nears the discreet entrance. “Bobby and Rogue, clear the east wing. Storm and I will be keeping watch outside to make sure that no one tries to escape with the humans.”

“What about us?” you ask with a slight nod towards Logan. The fact that neither of you had been given instructions yet leaves it to be assumed that you’ll be paired up together.

You and Logan working as a pair was nothing out of the ordinary, and although that typically comes with a lot of annoyance, right now you can’t help but feel a little relieved by it.

Even if you are still irritated at him for his behavior and choice of words in the kitchen last night and even if you do think of him between your thighs every time you look at him for more than five seconds, he’s still more familiar with this place than anyone else here.

And no matter how much he makes you want to tear your hair out, there's never a time that you feel unsafe when he's near.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble.

“No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

Logan snorts, earning curious glances from everyone other than you and Charles. He does get a nasty side-eye from you – a silent promise to deliver on last night’s threat to find something to burn other than vintage glassware.

Your teammates split up into their respective groups upon entering the base, leaving you to follow Logan's lead towards the lower levels.

It’s unsettling just how silent it is. The only sounds are that of yours and Logan's boots against the ground. You'd be able to hear a pin drop from across the building.

And it's cold. The kind of cold that makes your bones ache. You instinctively flex your fingers, focusing on the warmth that radiates from the tips.

As the two of you make your way through the dark, seemingly endless basement, checking each room for signs of life, you can't help but think of Logan being here under much different circumstances.

You don't know the full extent of his time here – even he only remembers bits and pieces. But you know enough to know that this can’t be easy for him.

The fact that he's being uncharacteristically quiet only reaffirms that. He makes none of his typical taunts and jabs, only speaking when absolutely necessary.

You find yourself damn near wishing he’d make some snide comment about how you’re walking too loudly and how being partnered up with you feels like babysitting duty – if he did, maybe then you wouldn’t feel this annoying, persistent worry over his mental well-being.

“Logan,” you begin quietly as the two of you approach a large set of hospital style double doors at the end of a corridor. “I know being here can't be easy for you. I'm sorry that you have to be.”

He huffs a laugh under his breath, not meeting your eyes as he slowly pushes one of the doors open, peaking into the room before stepping inside and holding the door open for you.

“Just part of the job, bub,” he sighs. “I know what I signed up for.”

You enter, walking past him into the dark room. You shine your flashlight around the cramped space. Right away, you can tell that it’s vacant, as all of the other rooms you’ve checked have been. But it’s different – whereas most of the rooms have been completely empty, this one contains multiple twin sized beds. No frames, no pillows, just plain white sheets on each one.

“I know you do. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and he shines his own flashlight around the room from right behind you.

“It’s okay, princess,” he snorts. “I’m a big boy. You don’t gotta pretend to be worried about me.”

Princess. Your fingertips tingle as soon as the pet name leaves his lips.

“I’m not pretend—”

The sudden, loud clicking of a deadbolt echoes through the room, silencing you. You and Logan stare at each other for a brief moment, startled and confused, before he turns around and pushes on the double doors to no avail.

He slams the full weight of his body against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

“What the fuck,” he growls in between repeated strikes against the doors.

“Logan and I are locked in a room in the basement,” you say as you click on the communication device in your left ear. “The door automatically locked after we came inside. We can’t get it open—”

You’re met with white noise.

“My fucking comm isn’t working.” Panic begins to set in as you yank the device out of your ear to inspect it. There’s a small green light indicating that it is on, but for whatever reason, it isn’t getting signal.

“Scott? Storm? Can anyone hear us?” Logan says as he messes with his own communication device. “Nothing,” he grunts after a moment of silence.

“Professor? Jean? If either of you are listening, now would be a great time to poke around in our brains and let us know.”

Nothing indeed.

“Okay,” Logan says as he backs away from the double doors. “Blast them.”

“Blast them?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “They’re industrial metal doors. They’re like two feet thick. These walls are made out of concrete.” You bang your first against the rock solid wall for emphasis. “What the fuck do you think fire is—”

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

“How about not setting the room we are trapped in on fire? Only one of us has regenerative—”

A loud hissing noise sounds from above, causing you and Logan to both point your flashlights up towards the ceiling. You squint, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing. Large vents make up well over fifty percent of the ceiling, releasing what appears to be a fog like substance. It quickly transforms the air above you into one large, milky looking cloud.

“Charles! Storm! Scott – we need help. Quickly, we need help. I don’t know what’s going—”

You continue to shout into the communication device while Logan alternates between punching the door with his fists and throwing the full weight of his body against the metal, but all of your efforts are futile. The doors don’t budge, and you hear nothing but static from the comm.

You frantically glance around the room, looking for another escape route. There’s no other doors, and no windows. You’re completely enclosed by the four concrete walls and the impenetrable metal doors.

“Hold your breath!” Logan shouts as the fog descends upon the two of you, but it’s too late. The sickeningly sweet smelling mist encompasses you, making it impossible to see anything other than the thick silver vapor. It infiltrates your nostrils, causing you to gag. You cough, desperately trying to clear your airway of the substance.

It burns – your throat, your nostrils, your eyes and skin. Anywhere that it comes in contact with you feels like pins and needles.

You’re vaguely aware that Logan is somewhere to your left, asking if you’re okay in-between coughs and gags of his own. You can’t catch your breath well enough to answer him.

His hand clasps around the top of your arm. Your vision goes fuzzy and you collapse into him, light-headed from the profuse coughing.

“I think it’s dissipating,” Logan whispers in a strained voice, still supporting you so that you don’t fall to the floor. You risk cracking your eyes open the slightest bit, and realize that he’s right. There’s still a veil of mist surrounding you, but it’s no longer so opaque that you can’t see even two inches in front of your face.

You take deep breaths, making no effort to step away from him as you attempt to regain control of your breathing. Your lungs feel like they are on fire and your throat feels like you haven’t had any water in days.

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice comes out as a croak.

“Can you stand?” he asks you. You nod, reluctantly pulling away from his embrace.

As soon as he steps away from you to see if the doors are still locked, the momentary relief that you felt when the fog began to dissipate is replaced with renewed terror. The room, which was previously dark except for the light from your flashlights, suddenly glows a deep red color from the ceiling that now emits crimson fluorescence.

You open your mouth to call out for Charles or Jean again, when a throbbing sensation radiates throughout your gut. You clutch your hands over your abdomen, gasping at the sudden and awkward feeling.

Logan turns his attention away from the doors and back to you as soon as he notices how you’re hunched over. You stumble over to the bed that's closest to you, the world blurring around you in shades of red.

“Something is wrong,” you gasp out. You know you're stating the obvious – something has been wrong since the moment that the doors locked behind you.

He's next to you in two long strides, kneeling beside the bed and looking up at you in concern. The ache in your lower belly seems to worsen with his close proximity. Your skin feels feverish, making you want to peel your tactical suit off of your body.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” he demands. Other than obvious confusion and fear, he appears physically fine. You piece together that whatever that shit was, it’s effecting you much differently than it is him – undoubtedly due to his healing abilities.

You can't form a coherent sentence – all you can focus on is the way that the discomfort in your abdomen travels down to your groin, making you clench your thighs together. You have the inexplicable desire to reach out and pull him to you, as if having him as close as possible to you is the only solution for every uncomfortable thing happening to you.

“You gotta talk to me, bub. Tell me what’s going on,” he says when you don’t answer him. He puts a hand just above your knee and you have to hold back the whimper that threatens to break through your lips. He notices your pained expression and quickly withdraws his hand from your thigh.

“No!” you gasp, grabbing his hand in yours out of desperation to maintain some level of physical contact with him. “I – I don't know how to explain what’s happening. Just – I just need you to keep touching me. Please. Whatever that fog was, it’s making me feel like…”

You trail off, realizing that you must sound every bit as insane as you feel. You don’t know how to begin articulating what’s happening to you, because it makes no sense. When the silver mist first started to rain down from the ceiling, the last thing on your mind was Logan pinning you to one of these mattresses and railing you until you until you see stars. Now, you think that if he so much as stops holding your hand, you'll fucking die.

A look of clarity washes over Logan’s face – with a hint of something else that you can't quite pinpoint, too.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself.

“I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—”

“What is it?” you implore.

His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs –

“It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

You let his words sink in. It’s not something you’ve ever heard of, but you don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. How could you, with the way that your pussy is throbbing at the mere sound of his voice? Under normal circumstances, you might not read too far into that. But right now? On a mission, locked in a creepy basement, unable to get in contact with your teammates?

“Weren’t able to fight it,” you repeat slowly. “You're saying there’s only one way out of this.”

He doesn’t answer – just looks at you with sympathy. With pity.

“No,” you shake your head. You yank your hand from his grasp and move back across the mattress as the gravity of the situation hits you. To distance yourself from him feels like ripping air out of your own lungs, but the alternative is borderline unthinkable.

“I can’t – won’t ask that of you,” you declare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that laughs at you, as if saying it’s cute that you think you have a choice. The pain and longing grow with each passing second, threatening to consume you from the inside out.

“You’re fine. It would be different if it was both of us. But you shouldn’t have to do this just because you're stuck here with me.”

“Have to? You make it sound like it would be a punishment for me,” he chuckles darkly. He finally rises from where he had been kneeling next to the bed. He stands beside the mattress, looming over you in the maroon lighting.

“Let’s not overcomplicate this, princess,” he murmurs. He grasps your face in his palm and tilts your head to look up at him. His touch is a balm – it feels like running a burn under a cold stream of water.

“I'm gonna take care of you, and then you can go right back to tolerating my existence.” He runs the calloused pad of his thumb over the swell of your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut, reveling in the sensation of the singular digit against your flesh.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?”

Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist.

He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink.

As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

You’re past the point of finding it in you to care about consequences. You’re no longer thinking about how you’ll be able to look him in the eye when this is over, or how you’ll pretend like everything is perfectly normal when the two of you are back on the jet with your teammates.

Maybe you can fight this drug, or maybe he’s right and there’s no point in trying. Either way, you’ve decided that you're going to have him before you leave this room.

You drop his hand, bringing yours to the zipper at the neckline of your tactical suit. You slowly tug it downwards, gauging his expression as he watches you expose your chest and stomach.

For once, he’s all out of smart remarks.

A part of you feels a sense of satisfaction and wants to continue taking your time with undressing yourself, just to keep him looking at you like this – but every fiber of your being is screaming at you for more.

You waste no more time with shoving the restrictive Kevlar material down your arms, leaving you in only your bra from the waist up. Logan unfreezes at the sight, crawling onto the bed on his knees. You maneuver yourself so that you’re laying flat against the mattress, pulling him down with you.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth.

His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

Your complaint dies in your throat when he slates his lips over yours.

There’s nothing slow or sensual about the way that he kisses you. He slips his tongue past your lips, moving his lips with fervency and urgency – like he needs this as badly as you do.

You buck your hips up into him, desperate for any amount of friction. He grinds down against you, his erection evident even through the thick material of both of your tactical suits.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss to unzip your suit the rest of the way down. He peels it down your thighs, only stopping to discard your boots. When you’re left in only your underwear, he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“So, what exactly was I doing in your dream to have you saying my name like that, huh?” he asks as he toys with the waistband of your panties.

You roll your eyes, your patience growing thinner as the ache in your belly grows stronger. He can tease you about that all he wants when you’re back in the safety of the mansion, when you’re no longer under the influence of potentially life threatening chemicals and capable of thinking of a proper comeback.

“Shut up and eat me out.”

His smirk only grows, but he doesn’t tease you any further. He tugs your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He lowers himself onto his stomach, still fully dressed. Under less dire circumstances, you would’ve been eager to get him out of his clothes, too – but right now, your highest priority is feeling his mouth on you.

No wet dream could have prepared you for how euphoric it actually feels for his teeth to nip at the tender flesh of your inner thighs, or the way that his tongue draws lazy circles at your hole before his lips lock around your clit.

You writhe against him, chasing the release that you’ve been desperate for since the second the vapor first came in contact with your skin. He’s more than generous, expertly nursing at your swollen bud as he eases a slender finger inside your cunt.

One finger – that’s all it takes to feel your climax building, the coil in your lower belly tightening. You feel your walls pulse around the digit as your orgasm washes over you. You don’t even try to hold back your cries and praises of pleasure, letting him know how good he’s making you feel.

When he sits back, his lips and beard glisten with your slick in the red glow that encases you both. You push yourself into a sitting position and reach for the zipper of his suit, antsy to shed his clothing now that your physical discomfort had been quelled – at least for the time being.

He helps you, shrugging out of his vest and tugging his undershirt over his head. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but never shirtless for you. You want to dig your nails into the planes of his chest, and run your tongue along the protruding vein that disappears beyond the waistline of his pants –

You undo his belt buckle and pop open the button of his pants before hastily yanking both his pants and boxers down in one movement. His cock springs free, bobbing inches before your face. You start to adjust your position on the bed – to get on your knees and take him in your mouth – when a low chuckle causes you to pause and look up at him.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, earning a confused pout from you.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows.

“S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.”

You aren’t going to argue with that.

You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices.

“Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

He fucks you similarly to how he kisses you – like this is saving him as much as it is you. It's rough, and fast, and messy – and you dread the moment that it’s over.

No one has ever filled you as completely and perfectly as him. You don’t think anyone else ever will, again.

Each drag of his cock along your walls has you clenching around him, each time his head rams against your cervix you can’t help but cry his name.

He snakes his hand in between you, reaching down to where his body collides with yours. His thumb massages over your sensitive clit.

You rake your nails down his back and he hisses in approval, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace.

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess,” he grunts before kissing you again.

You don't have time to overthink the sentiment before your second orgasm is washing over you. Logan cums as soon as he feels your pussy pulsating around him, fucking you until he's spilled every last drop of his warm seed deep inside you. When you're both finished, he stills inside you and rests his sweat-slicked forehead against yours as he catches his breath.

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

As if on cue, you hear the deadbolt unlock from the other side of the room. A second later, Storm’s voice sounds from your communication device that had fallen to the floor at some point.

“I don't feel like there’s a ticking time bomb inside my vagina anymore. So, I’d say yeah, it worked.”

He huffs a laugh, and then pulls out of you with a sigh.

“Logan,” you say, stopping him before he can pull away from you entirely. He stares down at you, waiting for you to continue.

You aren’t even sure what to say. Truthfully, you just weren’t ready for the moment to end and for things to go back to normal between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you spit out after a moment of loaded silence. “For… helping me,” you finish lamely.

“Don’t thank me, bub,” he chuckles. “It’s far from the worst thing that's happened to me in this place.”

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

And as soon as you've showered and your head hits the pillow after returning home to the mansion, you sleep for another ten hours. Every time you wake up and think that you're finally well-rested, your body says otherwise and you're asleep again within minutes.

You wish you could say it’s a dreamless sleep, but that would be a lie. You see Logan’s face every time you close your eyes.

But it's different than the last dream you had of him. It isn’t images of his head between your thighs or his fingers slipping in and out of you.

It’s just.. him. His presence. The lingering feeling of his lips on yours, the light flavor of tobacco and menthol.

And the echo of the words he spoke as he teased you with the head of his cock and made you cum around his length.

“Don’t you worry, though. If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I’ll let you.”

“Fuckin’ ruinin’ me for anyone else, princess.”

When you wake, the ache between your thighs for him remains, despite the fact that the effects of the drugs had long since faded.

You know you shouldn’t read too far into words spoken while the two of you were locked in that room. But you can’t help but keep thinking that he wasn’t under the influence of chemical subjugation. Which leaves you questioning if he meant the things he said, or if he was just trying to lighten a scary, impossible situation for both of you.

You suppose there’s only one way to find out.

When you finally gather the courage the knock on his door, the sun has set and everyone has retired to their bedrooms for the evening.

You almost dash back into your own room during the few seconds that it takes him to open his door. He wears sweatpants, a plain black t-shirt, and a surprised expression.

“Hey, bub,” he greets you apprehensively. You don't normally make a habit of stopping by his room for late night chats. “Was starting to worry that you’d fallen into a coma.”

He opens his door wider, motioning with his head for you to come inside.

“Felt like it,” you give a small laugh. “Whatever was in that shit wore me out.” You take a seat on the edge of his bed, nervously wringing your hands together.

“You feeling better now?” he asks as he leans against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes trail over the large muscles of his chest and shoulders. The memory of his body caging you to the twin sized mattress in the basement of the bunker flashes through your mind.

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

“All things considered,” you shrug. “I just wanted to check in with you. Has Charles… said anything?”

What you're actually trying to ask is if Charles interrogated him about where the two of you were during the mission, why no one was able to contact either of you, and why you have been so exhausted that you've done nothing but sleep for the last day, but you trust that he knows what you mean.

“He hasn’t said anything, but..” he trails off, eyes darting around the room to avoid your gaze. “It’s Charles. Safe to assume he knows and is just being decent by not saying anything.”

“Right,” you murmur.

If he doesn’t already know, it's only a matter of time before you slip up and imagine the feeling of his lips on yours or the sounds of his moans in the middle of a mission debriefing.

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

“They are,” he assures you with a soft smile. “They’re all receiving medical attention, and most have been reunited with their loved ones.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “No thanks to us, I guess.”

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

He pushes himself off the dresser, walking the few feet to where you perch at the edge of the mattress. He sits down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. He smells of Old Spice deodorant and spearmint toothpaste, and it makes you the room spin around you.

“But everyone’s okay. They’re safe. And you’re safe. That’s what matters.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to speak. He’s close enough that you can practically feel the heat from his body. You risk looking at his face, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Yeah,” you finally agree. “You’re right. Well, I’ll let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in with—”

You start to stand up, when he cups your jaw in his hand and pulls your face to his. He’s hesitant in a way that he wasn’t yesterday – he gives you the opportunity to pull away before he sweeps his tongue across your bottom lip, as if asking for permission.

When you don’t give any kind of indication that you want him to stop, he pulls you flush against him and slips his tongue past your lips. You bring your hand to the back of his neck, twining your fingers through his hair.

He takes his time with you. Whereas yesterday’s kisses were filled with urgency and desperation, todays is tender and sensual. Now, you’re allowed the luxury of taking your time.

He lays down against the mattress, pulling you with him. You straddle his stomach, your lips never once breaking contact. His hands grip the globes of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat through your pajama pants.

You grind against the hard planes of his abdomen, earning a throaty growl from him.

He breaks away, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath.

“What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?”

“No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—”

“What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest.

“I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.”

You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more.

“I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

oooops i accidentally wrote another fic where logan overhears something that he wasn't supposed to 😅🫠 did not originally plan for that to happen hahaha

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[moirasdolly]

˚ ⋆ﾟ୨୧ Princess Treatment ୨୧ ˚ ⋆ﾟSevika x Fem Reader

Synopsis: How can Sevika focus on a word you’re saying when your lips just look so kissable? She just wants to take you home and spoil you…

Contains: NSFW (minors and men dni), biting, lots of hickies, sevika eats reader out, strap on sex mwahhh, reader gets princess treatment

Listening to ♪ ིྀ: The Party & The After Party - The Weeknd

Notes: Sorry it’s been so long T^T, I’ve been really struggling with writing and I’m not even confident or necessarily happy with this either. I hope you guys enjoy it regardless <\3 I totally didn’t write this because i’m projecting (I want Sevika so bad)

Your sweet voice that flowed from between your lips like syrup were all Sevika could even think about as you sat in her lap at The Last Drop. Her flesh arm wrapped tenderly around your waist and the mechanical one draped across the bar counter, shielding you from any drunkard who might bump into you. Even though it was already winding down and there were few patrons left in the bar, she would never leave you exposed. She didn’t retain a single word you were speaking though, she was too focused on the tone of your voice, the way your hands flailed wildly as you explained whatever story you were telling, and most importantly your perfectly pouty lips.

Thieram stood behind the counter listening intently, nodding his head at every little detail of your story along with Ran who would throw out a comment every so often. “…and you would not believe it… I slipped on a banana peel!” You could barely even get through your sentence without breaking out into a fit of giggles. You buried your face in your hands, tears threatening to spill over because of your laughter. The laughter of the whole group snapped Sevika out of her daze and she forced out a chuckle at your antics. It wasn’t that she didn’t find your story interesting, she just couldn’t help but get lost in your whole being.

You picked up on her behavior and shot her a look over your shoulder. You furrowed your brows gently and your lips fell into a little frown as you looked into her gray eyes. She looked up at you through her lashes as apologetically as she could before planting a soft kiss on your cheek. You’d let it slide for now, but when you got home you’d be sure to question her.

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, and Sevika made sure to actually contribute to the conversations. You had almost forgotten about her earlier slip up, until the same thing happened again. You were mid sentence when you noticed Sevika hadn’t said anything for the longest time, but her grip was beginning to tighten on you. Her arm had moved slightly lower to wrap around your hip instead, her large hand mindlessly rubbed small circles into the flesh exposed by your shorts. Your words faltered at her touch and you fumbled over your sentence. Your hand rested over her own before gliding it down to rest on your thigh instead. You kept a watchful eye on her to make sure she didn’t try anything before the night was over.

Unfortunately, it was getting late and everyone was growing tired. You four were the only other ones in the bar since it was pretty late into the night. Thieram didn’t want to kick you guys out, but he did have to close up the bar sooner or later.  “It was nice seeing everyone again! Maybe next time we could play a few rounds of pool?” You planted your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side slightly awaiting an answer from your close friends. “Only if you plan to lose.” Ran quipped back. You feigned disbelief, raising a hand to your chest and gasping. “You’ll be eating your words Ran, remember this moment.”

This got a real chuckle out of Sevika this time. She slid her flesh arm around your waist and tugged you closer to her. “I bet on my princess, sorry Ran.” They dismissed the rest of the group with a wave of their hand, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.” It was all lighthearted though, you saw the corner of their lips tug up into a smile before turning to make their leave. Now it was just Thieram, Sevika and yourself outside of the bar. The young man bid you farewell before stepping back inside the establishment for his closing duties.

A comfortable silence settled over you as you began the walk back to your shared home. Now that it was just the two of you alone though, you wanted to prod her about her seemingly not paying attention to you. “Sev… How come you weren’t listening to a word I said tonight?” You tried to keep the pout off your lips, you really did, but you were kind of irritated with her. Sevika looked like a deer caught in headlights, like she didn’t quite know how to explain herself. You stopped in your tracks, waiting for her to talk. “I’m not moving ‘til you tell me.” You knew you were being stubborn, but you thought you deserved an explanation. If there was something on her mind, you wanted to know.

The older woman could most definitely overpower you to keep you walking, but instead she stopped the moment you did. Her arm was still wrapped around your waist but she turned to face you. You were staring up at her with those big, beautiful eyes of yours and she couldn’t help but get lost in your features. You were feeling shy under her gaze, your cheeks flushing uncontrollably. She brought her flesh hand up to your face, gripping your chin between her thumb and index finger gently. “Princess, I’m sorry you’re just too beautiful. I was so mesmerized by your sweet voice I could barely process what you were saying tonight.” Well you couldn’t be mad at that explanation.

“I was just thinking about how much more sweet you’d sound under me, begging for more.” She angled your head up slightly higher before capturing your lips in a kiss that was far too quick for your liking. When she parted from you, you tried to chase after her lips eagerly just wanting to feel her against you again. “Why don’t we get home first?” She murmured. All previous thoughts you had were no longer present and instead all you could think about was getting home as quickly as possible. You nodded slowly and you two continued down the path to home.

Your home wasn’t the closest to The Last Drop and your legs were getting tired, but you didn’t want to complain. Your pace was beginning to slow, the shoes you had decided on were not the most comfortable, but you weren't thinking about the walk home when you chose your attire for the night. The gentlewoman that Sevika was, had noticed your discomfort and scooped you up into her arms. No matter how many times she did it, it made you gasp still. “Sevi!” You wrapped your arms around her neck as an automatic response and she just chuckled. “I can’t have my princess feeling tired before we even get home.”

The implications of that were enough to make your cheeks flush again, and you were practically buzzing in her arms with anticipation.

The rest of the walk home was filled with sweet idle conversation, although it was mostly you rambling away like always while Sevika listened intently. She couldn’t get enough of you and your honeyed tone.

Your shared home was slowly coming into view and you huffed prematurely, knowing she’d have to set you down to get the door open. “Sweet girl, I’m going to get this door open, but you’ll be in my arms again in no time.” Your feet hit the ground for the first time in a while, but you felt well rested thanks to your thoughtful girlfriend.

“Thank you baby.” You drew out the pet name as she opened the door, whisking you inside before locking it behind you. Before you could even get another word out you were in her strong arms once more. Her flesh arm cradled your back and her mechanical arm hooked under your thighs as she carried you bridal style to the bedroom. Your sweet giggles filled Sevika’s ears as she planted about a dozen soft kisses all over your face.

The next time you were put down you felt fuzzy blankets beneath your body as you sank into the bed. Sevika propped herself up with her mechanical arm and snuck her knee between your thighs gently, chuckling at your eagerness to feel her when you squeezed your legs around her limb. Her gray eyes peered down at you, heavy lidded with lust and adoration for you, her perfect, angelic sweetheart. “Fuck, I wish you could see just how beautiful you look under me right now.” Her gray, puppy dog eyes met your own and you couldn’t take it anymore. The way they glimmered down at you made you want her even more. You snaked your arms around her neck and tugged her down to meet your lips in a heated kiss.

Your tongue swiped over her bottom lip briefly before prodding into her mouth. If you weren’t listening so intently you would have missed the tiny groan that emanated from her throat. You wanted to hear more, so with all your strength you pushed her to the side and flipped your positions. Sevika definitely let you, otherwise you would have stayed snuggly under her due to the difference in strength.

Your legs rested on either side of her hips and your head dipped down to her jaw to press several feather light kisses to her skin. Whatever was left of your pink lipgloss transferred to her jawline and you loved how your kiss marks looked on her tanned skin. 

She was enjoying your kisses even more than you though. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were fluttering shut every so often to bask in the feeling. The next time your plump lips met her skin, it was on the tender patch of skin in the middle of her throat. You placed one kiss, two kisses, and on the third one you sucked a small bruise into her skin. Her deep moans vibrated on your lips and you felt like you couldn’t get enough of her. “Baby I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.” She chuckled in between moans.

Those soft lips of yours curled into a smile as you peered down at all your hard work. Her neck was littered with evidence of your affection. Dark purples and reds were blooming all across the expanse of her supple skin. “You can do whatever you want to me… just let me have my fun first.” You whispered into her ear, your teeth nipping her lobe.

“Whatever my princess wants, she gets.”

What you wanted to do was leave her neck completely covered in love bites, so that she’d have to wear turtlenecks out for the next two weeks. And you were on the right track for that. Sevika would never admit it out loud, even though you’ve witnessed it before, but just being kissed and bitten by you was enough for her to cum in her pants. She got off on how desperate you were to mark her and show everyone she was yours just as much as you were hers.

You slipped your hands under her cropped shirt, sliding it up her toned stomach. Her breasts sprang free and you adjusted yourself lower on her body to give them soft kisses before taking one of her nipples into your mouth. Her breathing grew heavier as you sucked little bruises into her breasts. Little grunts and sighs escaped her lips and a devilish idea presented itself to you. You nipped her nipple with your teeth as you kneaded her other breast softly. You began grinding on her, the friction felt unbelievably good for the both of you. Her body was growing taut at the sensation and in no time you had her cumming with a string of moans.

“Fuck, princess your mouth is heaven on earth…” She trailed off after taking a deep breath. 

You tried containing your smile, but you felt rather accomplished for making her cum with nothing but your mouth on her. “You’re so sensitive, who knew that’s all it would take.”

“Well it’s easy to give in when I have the most beautiful woman in the world sitting on top of me.” Her charming words made your heart melt and you couldn’t help but lean down to kiss her for the millionth time. Unfortunately for you, the kiss was cut short by Sevika pulling away.

“I think it’s time to spoil my baby.”

Her flesh arm flipped you over, your back hitting the bed as she caged you underneath her broad body. A squeal escaped your lips at the sudden move and Sevika ate up your little noises as she captured your lips in a fervent kiss. Your hands instantly found purchase on her muscular shoulders as you tried to pull her closer. Her mechanical hand had a bruising grip on your hip, and the sting felt delicious. Her flesh hand was gentle, a complete contrast. She held your face like you were made of glass, her thumb caressing your blushed cheek. 

As much as she loved kissing your perfect, plump lips, she wanted her mouth on your body too. She took the hem of your shirt in between her fingers and ripped it off of you. No time was wasted as she unclasped your bra as well, throwing it somewhere in the room. Her lips trailed heated kisses down your jaw, across your throat, and all across your chest. Dark lipstick was littered across your whole upper body, and it was almost making the older woman malfunction. If she could, she’d take a picture and keep it in her wallet. You were the epitome of beauty to her always, but in that moment you looked like an angel, all sprawled out for her with her marks all over you.

“Sevika… Don’t just look, touch me. Please…” You whined softly, if you weren’t so turned on you’d cringe at how needy you sounded.

She shot you a toothy grin, “I know baby, let’s get these off of you.” She tugged at the waistband of your little shorts, pulling them down your thighs, and fully off your legs. Next were the lacy panties you knew Sevika liked. She pressed a kiss to the little bow in the center of your panties before discarding those as well. The cold air hit your body and you shivered at the feeling. 

“Come warm me up, Sevi.” 

That’s all she needed to hear before hiking your thighs up on her shoulders before delving into your glistening cunt. She gave your clit a quick kiss before flattening her tongue against you.You mewled at the sensation of her thick, long tongue brushing against your aching clit. She had barely even touched you and you already felt a familiar feeling building in your stomach. Your body was something she knew eerily well, she knew all the spots that made you tick, the pressure that made you see stars, and just the way to swirl her tongue to make you clench those beautiful thighs around her head.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good, my sweetheart.” 

She lapped at your cunt like she was drunk on the taste of you. Her tongue slipped into you, deep. Reaching places only she could. Your thighs clamped down around her head, and that’s exactly where she wanted to be, buried between the soft flesh.

She was relentless when you came with a long string of filthy moans of her name. It just spurred her on even more until you were twitching under her, feeling overstimulated. When she came up for air, she licked her lips which were slick with your release. Her eyes met your own as she wiped her mouth before leaning to kiss down your thighs once more. Her tongue ghosted over your sensitive flesh before she moved away to let you recover for a moment.

Your body laid limp on the bed as Sevika rubbed small circles on your waist to bring you back to earth. “Can you give me another, princess?” Her flesh hand found its way to your face again, her thumb slipping past your lips. You nodded your head slowly, your hazy eyes finding hers.

“Words baby.” She reminded you.

“Yes, Sevi. I can take it.” Your voice was muffled slightly by her digit, but it was clear you wanted whatever she’d give you. 

She slipped off the bed to retrieve her strap, slipping into the black harness that made your mouth water. The bed dipped under her weight as she climbed onto the bed once more, returning to her rightful place between your legs again. If Sevika was one thing in bed, it was appreciative. She took in your beautiful form inch by inch, her eyes scanning your body like it was a piece of art. Her demeanor was rough and mean with everyone and if you were honest, it turned you on completely. But she wasn’t like that with you, she treated you with care as if you were made of porcelain. Her touches were tender, making your comfort her highest regard. You truly were her princess

The tip of her silicone length rested against your soaked pussy, and you knew she wasn’t trying to tease, but you just wished she’d move. You bucked your hips with what energy you had left to receive a bit of friction, and all Sevika could do was chuckle at how needy you were. She took your movements as a sign to guide the dark purple length into you. Calloused hands guided your plush thighs to wrap around her waist gently. You squeezed your thighs around her as she disappeared into you little by little.

Her eyes trailed down to where you two were connected before trailing back up to look into your hazy eyes. Your lashes were lined with crystalline tears, collecting like little dewdrops on your lashes. 

“You’re taking me so good, sweetheart.” Sevika rasped, leaning down to kiss away your tears. “D’ya think you can handle me moving?”

A lewd whimper left your lips, and you didn’t quite trust your voice to not crack when you spoke. The best you could muster out was a little, “Please.” 

God, you sounded so blissed out, it was taking every bone in the older woman’s body to not fuck you silly into the mattress. She started with slow and controlled rolls of her hips into your cunt. You wrapped your arms around her broad back, pulling her flush against you. You couldn’t help but press soft kisses onto the little bruises you created on her from earlier. She sucked in a breath as you kissed a particularly sore spot. You let your teeth graze her neck, nipping at her ever so slightly.

Her hips stuttered initially as you bit her, but she picked up her movement, moving faster than before. Soft grunts were amplified in your ears and it was almost all you could focus on. If it weren’t for the thick toy being stuffed into you, you would have said something about the noises she was making. Her huffs vibrated against your ear lobe and on a particularly deep thrust she moaned like she could feel your cunt clenching around the toy.

“Baby you’re squeezing me so hard, so perfect.” She just couldn’t keep her hands to herself either. One hand rested on your waist and the other trailed down your stomach to your clit. She rubbed slow circles on your already sensitive clit and you couldn’t take it. The feeling of her quick, deep thrusts along with the additional stimulation was sending you reeling. 

You were just putty in her hands, babbling nonsense that resembled her name and various curse words. You couldn’t even hold your head up anymore, instead letting it hit the soft pillows beneath you. Sevika took the chance to kiss up your neck slowly, paying attention to every bit of exposed skin she could get to. By now her lipstick was already rubbed off, but you could still feel every mark she left on you. You wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world.

“Fuck!” You squealed out as she snapped her hips into you at an even more brutal pace. “‘M so close Sevi!” You could barely form a full sentence the way she was ruining you. Without warning your body stiffened and you were cumming. She didn’t slow down though, she kept her pace up as you twitched around her thick length. She pushed herself up from where she was trailing kisses all over your neck to see the rest of you. Your lips were plump and parted, lewd whimpers falling from them like that’s all you knew how to do. Your hair was messy, neck filled with bruises to match her own, and your chest was full of lipstick marks. You were completely hers, and you had the marks to prove it too.

Her eyes trailed down to where you were taking her so well, “Look at how it disappears baby, you were made for me.” Her words were filthy, and her eyes were full of lust as she saw the creamy white ring forming around the base of the toy.

Your brows furrowed as you began to feel overstimulated once more, and Sevika being the attentive woman she was, took it as a sign to slow down. Eventually she slid out of you, and you sighed at the empty feeling. Your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to catch your breath. Sevika pressed soft little kisses to both of your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and finally a quick one to your lips, not wanting to tire you out anymore than you already were. “You did so good for me, princess.” She whispered into your ear as she brought her flesh hand to cup your face.

“Gonna clean you up now, is that okay?” 

You nodded slowly, your eyes still shut as she untangled herself from between your thighs to clean herself up and retrieve a washcloth for you. When she returned she was in a fresh pair of pajamas and her hair was down. You opened your eyes to take in the sight when you heard her footsteps again. “So cute.” You whispered with a giggle. To everyone in Zaun she was a scary lady, but to you she was your sweet girlfriend who wore big t-shirts and fuzzy pajama bottoms to bed. She just shook her head with a soft smile and settled onto the edge of the bed near your legs. You spread your legs for her and she wiped the inside of your thighs and your sensitive folds. A sigh slipped past your lips and she planted a kiss on your lips as she cleaned every last bit of you. “All clean…” She tossed the washcloth somewhere in the room, she’d put it in the wash tomorrow.

It wasn’t that Sevika wanted to see you in her clothes… of course not! She just wanted you to be warm, that’s all. That’s what she told herself as she slipped one of her sleep shirts over your head. Her heart melted when you poked your head out of the opening of the shirt and met her eyes. She couldn’t resist giving you another kiss. You smiled against her lips before she pulled back to slip a pair of your panties up your thighs and up onto your hips.

The moment you were clothed you dove under the covers, waving a lazy hand to make Sevika join you. Once she did you clung to her tightly, tucking your head under her chin to rest on her chest. Her warm body heated you up, and your eyes fluttered shut. “You sleepy, baby?” Sevika asked even though she already knew the answer.

You hummed a noncommittal noise, just opting to burrow closer to Sevika if that was even possible.

“I tired you out today huh…” 

When she got no response from you she kissed the top of your head and let her eyes shut slowly too. Sleep came easy to her when she had her princess wrapped up in arms.

[biteyoubiteme]

Can I get Felix nsfw fic about breeding kink👀

lost luggage

felix x fem!reader

synopsis: the one where you lost your birth control pills.

warnings: 🔞!!! hand job mention, fingering mention, breeding kink, talk of birth control, creampie, no protection, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 1.6k

an: this is not the best im so sorry but I love this pic of felix so so much and I hope you like it <33 thank you so much for requesting! not proofread sorry :p

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

You had lost your suitcase. Or the airline had misplaced the luggage and claimed to get it to you in the next forty-eight hours. Apologizing for the inconvenience and sending you on your way. It hadn't been too big a deal, Felix talking you down from the anger bubbling up inside you, not necessarily at the airline but at yourself for thinking this would never happen to you. And then yes at the airline and their stupid bad timing and even worse customer service. 

But Felix was there, hand on your shoulder, heady voice in your ear, whispering about taking you out to grab the essentials, to not worry about this one setback. He didn't even care about showing up late to the party you two had been flown out for in the first place. “We will be here all week, being an hour or two late won’t hurt anyone,” 

He was right, everyone had been sympathetic to your situation, cursing the baggage claim gods just as passionately as you had. But it wasn't until the third day of your trip that you remembered one of the key things left in your toiletries bag. The little foil and plastic case of your birth control pills, hastily added into the bag because it was always right there on the edge of the sink next to your toothbrush, taken in the morning consistently enough that you never really forget about it. Not until it was one of the last things on your mind when trying to remember exactly what you needed to buy to replace the lost items for the time being. 

You would have forgotten entirely if it hadn't been for your reflex to reach out for the pill case the second you have finished washing your face. “Shit,” you scrambled to think up the last time you had sex, save the lazy hand jobs the two of you had exchanged in bed that first night. Felix's fingers buried deep inside you as the two of you made out, his soft moans trapped against your lips with each drag of your hand on him. 

Felix hummed a question from the hotel's bed, still lying back against the headboard scrolling on his phone. “What is it?” 

“My birth control was in the checked bag,” you sighed, over the whole thing, if you thought about the bag too much it would just put you right back to the mindset you had right at that airport help desk. “It's fine, calm, cool, collected thoughts just like you said,” you tried to mimic his sweet soothing voice, letting the syllables relax in your mouth to make them true. “If we have sex we will just be careful and when I get the bag back I will make sure to always listen to my gut and put essentials into the carry on,” 

The conversation had been over and done with, forgotten by you as you got ready to go out but not forgotten by Felix. The first thing that came to his mind was the same thought as you, when was the last time you had sex, did you two happen to slip up? Then his mind tripped down a road of questions he never found himself exploring; would it be so bad if you two had slipped up? What if neither of you cared? What if he did get you pregnant? 

Never had his body reacted so fast to an idea, blood rushing down to his cock until it was aching and dripping precum at a rate he hadn't ever experienced. It wasn't as if he had never thought about having kids with you, no this was different, the risk of it right now. Just thinking about how close the two of you had been without realizing it, how only the night before if he had pushed into you, fucked you until you were dumb on his cock, spilling inside you only to do it all over again, you'd be claimed in a way he never would have thought about until this very second. 

He wanted that; to watch you dripping with his cum, claimed as his in a way no other man had ever had you, ready to do it over and over again until you were stuffed so full you couldn't even think about anything else but him and him alone. He was shifting in his seat, trying and failing to adjust himself in his sweatpants, his bulge slung across his thigh, noticeable enough for when you came out of the bathroom again needing the zipper of your dress done up. You chuckled,“Just hearing me say sex gets you hard now?” 

Your hands were on the front of your dress, holding it up and in place, pushing up your boobs just the right amount to draw his eyes in. If you got pregnant they would get bigger, maybe even double in size, and it's all that he can see as he pulls you down on the bed. 

The breath is knocked out of you, his hips fitting right between yours pressing his clothed cock right against you, grinding as he kisses down your neck, leaving a sloppy trail of them right down to your cleavage. Pulling down your dress just enough to free your tits from the fabric, his moan deep in the back of his throat as he takes in your peaked nipples. “Look at how pretty,” he always lets his voice drag out, running low enough to get your panties soaked. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?” 

He's looking at you from under his lashes, drawing you in with every little word. You would be anything he wanted you to be if it got him to look at you like that, every little freckle on display under his heated lazy gaze. Your chin barely moves to nod yes and he's got his hands under your dress, tearing your panties away. He wanted you in a way he's never felt before, the walls of his reserve packed up tight now crumbling down at the sight of your glistening cunt. 

Felix doesn’t falter in his movements tugging himself free from his sweatpants, jerking his wrist over his veiny shaft, circling his fingers over his tip collecting all his precum. You're spilled out on the sheets, dress pushed into a belt around your center, your knees falling open for him just enough so that when he pulls you to the edge of the bed you can wrap them around him. Your hips jerk at the sensation of him dragging his cock through your folds, getting himself as lubed up on your wetness as he can before he pushes in. 

The sound of his moan rumbled through his body, no time to let you adjust to the size of him before he's plumbing into you. Your hands shoot out for his wrists, his fingers denting into your hips to keep you in place. “Oh fuck- you always take my cock so well baby-” Every drag of his cock against your gummy walls is pure bliss, your mind fogging up with each sweet word he shares. “Sucking me in and begging me to fill you,” 

It's then that you realize you forgot a condom, not that either of you had one handy, not when you relied so heavily on your pills. “You have to- you'll have to-” but as much as you want to say the words they get stuck right on the edge of a whimper, pull out, right on the edge of your tongue. But its all tamped down when he adds, “ill have to fill you up, pump you full of my cum- fuck- push it back in and do it again,” 

Felix had never brought this up before, not even when he was desperately begging you to finish with him, buried deep in you needing to hear you cry for him. This was different, panting as he went on and on, “Everyone will know you're mine, all plump and perfect with my baby,” he lets one of his hands press down into your pelvis, slapping skin sticky in the air, knees weak from the feeling. “I'm going to cum right here, you feel that?” he digs the heel of his palm in, the tip of his cock pressed right where he wants it, tucked against your cervix hitting it until you're a shaking mess below him. “You'regoing to be so full of me, don't you want that? Tell me you want my baby,” 

“Felix,” you're gasping, scratching at the sheets trying and failing to find purchase on something to keep you grounded because, with each snap of his hips against yours, you're losing it, scrambling to find sanity. 

“Tell me, fuck- oh fuck- please, tell me,” he's begging thumb moving down to press on your swollen clit, circling the bud until your back is lifting off the mattress. He has a direct pull on your body, tugging your orgasm out of you. 

“I want it- please I want your baby,” you're almost in tears before the tidal wave crashes over you, your whole body tensing up before collapsing into bliss. Felix's hot cum spurts out in thick streams coating your walls and pushing out with each continuous stroke of his cock inside you. He slows just enough to let you keep squeezing him, his hands sliding up your thighs to keep them in place around him. 

Leaning down to pepper you with kisses he inadvertently pushes into you deeper, your whimper so sweet neck to his ear,“we can stay like this for a while before we go another round,” 

“A-another?” 

He drags his hips, grinding down against your sensitive clit, “I want to make sure I fill you enough to have that baby,” 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @chasingthatjjunie @possum-playground @ch4nn13luv want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[luveline]

Hi love your work. I was wondering if you could do a role reversal of the bombshell!reader under anesthesia? One where Aaron woke up and has forgotten he's married to reader so is shocked at her affection (not in a bad way), he just can't believe this beautiful woman is flirting with snd comforting him?

thank you for requesting! fem

Aaron is woken by a soft, displeased hum. 

He pries sticky eyes apart to peek at the source, a woman his junior with a tray table wheeled in front of her. You have neat hands, clipped nails painted softest pink, a ring on your marriage finger, and a little pearl necklace that’s fallen free of your collar to swing as you pen a letter. No, not a letter. A case file. 

You’re a police officer? 

He turns the other way, hoping for a more familiar face, but the only inhabitants of the room are you, him, and his pounding headache. A groan slips past his lips unbidden, Aaron watching in real time as you look up like he’s shocked you. You turn sympathetic and softer, somehow, your face plucking a weird string in his chest. It’s almost like deja vu, but Aaron would remember being looked at like this. 

“You okay?” you ask quietly. 

He clears his throat. “What happened?” he asks hoarsely. Clearing his throat a second time proves more successful. “What happened?” 

“You were struck hard in the back of the head with a rifle. A few times, actually. Luckily nothing broke, but you have a cut and a bruise like nobody’s business. Try not to touch.” 

“What about the team?” 

He realises with a start that he can’t remember who he means. Were the team actually with him? Dave had been there, right? Derek? 

“Reid sprained his wrist. Everyone else is fine.” 

Reid, you said, and not Dr. Reid. Aaron frowns deeply, the headache a full, eye-deep pain that worsens when he props himself up on his elbows. 

You watch him carefully. After a moment, you push the table away from you and get up, turning to sit on his bed. He doesn’t let his eyes widen, not even as you place your hand on his stomach, imploring in your gentleness, leaning in to see him better. In that moment, you might be the most beautiful woman Aaron has ever seen; his heart does a great whirl, picking up its pace. He has just enough capacity to recognise how lucky he is to be detached from any observational tech. 

“What’s worrying you, Aaron?” you ask, thumb rubbing a line into the skin just below his stomach. A butterfly like a hawk beats behind your touch. “You have that strange pinch between your eyebrows.” You draw a line up his stomach, showing him how they’re pulled up. He must look near tears as you go. “You only get that when you’re scared, but everyone’s fine, I promise.” 

He must know you. You clearly know him, your tone alone settling his heart while his mind races. 

“You won’t be out of the field long, and you know I can do it for you while you’re gone. I’m capable,” you say. 

“You are,” he says. He’s telling the truth, though he doesn’t know how. 

You shuffle further up the bed. Aaron sits properly, forcing your hand to fall. You clasp his thigh on instinct, and that tumultuous zing of deja vu washes over him again. 

“You have the worst luck, handsome,” you murmur, rubbing at his leg, soothing him without thinking. 

“I…” He trails off as he catches sight of your wedding band. Silver-gold, a pear-shaped 3.00ct diamond. He chose it on a whim. Aaron nearly swallows his own tongue as he looks up, the memory of it not quite connecting to you. You. 

“What?” you ask. 

“You’re being so quiet,” he asks. 

“Well, you gave me a bad scare,” you say, leaning in further, unafraid to breathe his air. “I thought I lost you. It was terrifying.” 

The breathlessness in your confession is a barb. He grabs your hand where it lays and squeezes accordingly. “That won’t happen,” he promises. 

You turn your hand into his, slotting your fingers together deftly. “Do you remember me now, Hotchner?” you ask. 

He looks you straight in the eye. He doesn’t remember you, not really. But he remembers the size of your fingers threaded through his, and he remembers how nervous he’d tried not to be when he bought that ring, and he remembers your hand warming his thigh in the car every morning. 

“Almost,” he says. His breath catches. “You’re beautiful,” he says. 

“You said something similar the first time you woke up. I blamed the morphine for your puppy-eyes, but…” You smile at him fondly. “I don’t think you’re drugged enough to say it and not mean it, now.” 

“I mean it,” he says, nodding. “Of course I mean it.”

“I know.” You kiss his cheek. 

“Will you tell me your name?” he asks. 

You do, and Aaron falls in love with you all over again. 

[deebris]

The Misteryous Visitor 6

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Being alone with Damian after so many years didn't lead to the ideal conversation you two should have had, but every little word seemed to have helped you two get closer at least a little bit. However, the chaotic turbulence of the night returned when your mother decided to leave.

Warnings: Family discussion; mention of kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4k

Note: I wanted to post this and part 7 together, because they are the last two, but it didn't turn out as planned. I hope you like it.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Damian walked to the end of the hallway and turned right, heading toward the living room. His only goal at the moment was to find you and try to prepare you for the catastrophic revelation he knew would come at some point. He was already tired of seeing you so unaware of everything; you weren’t an idiot and didn’t deserve to be treated like one.

But it seemed he didn’t have to try too hard because as soon as he turned the corner and walked a few meters, he abruptly stopped upon seeing that you hadn’t disappeared. In fact, you were there, sitting on the floor next to an old portrait of Martha, your grandmother, curled up as if just waiting for someone to come and get you. Someone who wasn’t your brother, apparently.

“There you are.” He took a few steps back and made no effort to crouch to your level; instead, he stood staring at you with a reproachful look that made you pull your legs even tighter to your chest. “Get up, quickly. The floor is for rats.”

He was trying to ignore the tension, but you were giving him the silent treatment, which made him uncomfortable, though he would never admit it to himself. You had done this to him many times before, but it was always over silly reasons, so he never minded.

You also could never hold a grudge for long, and when you were younger, within an hour, you would have forgotten any disagreement between the two of you and would then come to annoy him again. But now you were older, it wasn’t a tantrum anymore, and the reason was much more complex than any other. You weren’t ignoring him because you were simply irritated, and he feared it was different now.

Damian couldn’t ignore the irritation he felt seeing how ashamed of yourself you seemed since he first saw you. He hated that trait of your personality, always very aware of everything and everyone around you, though it was contradictory to your incredible ability to do unthinkable nonsense.

From where you both were, he still had a view of the bedroom door. The boy couldn’t help but glance over there, curious about what kind of discussion your parents were having. At the same time, he was contemplating various ways to say something or maybe try to fix the awkwardness between you two now, but your guilty voice caught him off guard:

“I didn’t mean to cause harm.” You sounded hoarse, and you two stared at each other, and unlike his sharp eyes, yours were wavering. He gave you a hard expression, but not because of the aversion you thought he had for you, but out of confusion.

It was a pity that Damian’s feelings weren’t easy to read, so you thought he was angry because that night you found out Bruce was someone very important to your brother now. “I didn’t mean to hurt Mr. Wayne. I really don’t know what I did to make him like this. I’m sorry.”

So you thought you had done something wrong to make your father that way, Damian concluded. He hadn’t reflected on how you might feel that way, and fighting against his own callous nature, he made an effort to relax his posture and crouched down in front of you. Damian didn’t dare sit the same way you were, balancing on his toes and leaning his torso forward.

“It wasn’t anything you did.” You’re not sure, but you risk saying this was the first time you heard your brother so soft in your entire life. Damian had always been very loud and was almost always yelling or offending someone, but now, combined with the gravity his voice had gained with puberty, it was tender.

He was going to say something else, but suddenly a strange noise sounded. It was muffled, but it seemed like something had fallen, and you both could feel the ground vibrate. It came from the bedroom, which made you become alert. You started to get up, worried, but your brother’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“It must have been nothing. Don’t worry about them.” The tenderness had been replaced by harshness, but it wasn’t directed at you.

Sliding your back against the wall again, you rested your chin on your knees while admiring your own shoes, and just like always, you couldn’t maintain your silent treatment with Damian for long:

“I think I bothered Mr. Wayne by coming here. Mom will be mad at me for this later, I know she will.” You were obviously nervous, seeking refuge in Damian as you always did when you had to face her. Your mother didn’t have a good relationship with Batman, and now having to deal with you for disturbing his evening would make her furious. The little relief you felt earlier had vanished, suspecting she had only been affectionate before not to show Bruce.

“Mom is mad all the time.” He tried to calm you down. It would be unbelievable for someone who knows Talia only through her assassin image to hear such a thing. She was a cold and calculating woman, but you both knew when she was upset. She didn’t express it in a conventional way, and Damian had already gotten used to it. Your mother’s mood didn’t concern him much, but it was still scary for you.

“You were mad…” Your statement made him sigh because it was true. A few minutes ago, he had reacted that way, but there was context he couldn’t immediately explain to you. “Maybe I can apologize to him? If he forgives me, I promise I won’t do it again, and then mom-”

“Y/n.” Your brother cut off your frantic speech sharply; you were almost hyperventilating. “No one is mad at you.” He said it as a statement, leaving no room for you to contest him.

“He was calm.” you started to ramble, picking at the fabric of your clothes with your nail. “He read something he took out of his pocket and started feeling sick, I was trying to help…”

Damian frowned. He had seen Dick give a small piece of paper to his father downstairs. That idiot wouldn’t have been stupid enough to write on it that you were his daughter, right? What a wonderful way to tell something like that.

“Idiot.” Your brother muttered aloud without meaning to, feeling immense anger at the thought that Dick had done that. And only after he blurted out the word did he realize you were still beside him, listening. “Not you.” He tried to explain hastily, still with a furious expression on his face.

It was strange for him to talk to you that way. He had called you an idiot many times during childhood, and you used to call each other much worse things, as siblings do. But your relationship now was delicate, like a strand of cotton candy, since that intimacy you once had was lost.

“By the way, Bruce is just stressed about Strange.” Damian analyzed your reaction at the mention of the name. To you, Strange was just another enemy of Batman, never suspecting that the man who appeared at your house years ago could somehow be him.

The League of Assassins had many enemies scattered across the globe; at that time, you thought it was just another one of them. You also never asked or wanted to talk about it, which was unusual for how chatty you could be sometimes. For you, Hugo Strange and the person who kidnapped you back then had no connection.

“There must have been something about our investigation there. I’m sure it was Dick who gave him that card. You didn’t do anything.” He said.

Your heart returned to its normal rhythm, but it grew heavy again as you understood the facts. Damian was blaming Dick for that thing Bruce was holding onto, but it was you who had given it to him in the first place. Bruce became distressed when you mentioned the gift and quickly pulled it out of his pocket. That must have been the object Strange gave you.

“Dami.” He heard the nickname leave your lips, and a flicker of hope hit him. There was still a certain closeness between you there. “I was the one who brought the card here; it’s not Dick’s fault. Strange gave it to me to give to Mr. Wayne.”

Damian abruptly stood up, returning to an upright posture. “Strange did what?” Neither Tim, Dick, nor Jason had mentioned this. They said they were telling the whole story, but none of them mentioned any kind of message. Was that why Tim had been acting so strange when he arrived? He remembers seeing him throw a box in the trash and getting all nervous when Damian got irritated and asked what it was. “Was it a small gift box, by any chance?”

“Yes, the same size as the card.” You made a square with your thumbs and index fingers, trying to show the shape of the object. “Just like this. But Mr. Wayne didn’t let me read it; I acted badly by trying to see what was in there too. I shouldn’t have been nosy.”

So Bruce didn’t let you know on purpose? Maybe he just didn’t want you to find out this way. He should have told you. Damian was about to open his lips to take the initiative, but the sound of someone approaching stopped him.

Alfred paused for a moment, finding it odd to see the two of you here. He had returned to make sure you were okay once more and then leave you alone until later in the day. “Master Damian,” He said the boy’s name as a form of acknowledgment, “I thought you were asleep.” The butler added, addressing both of you.

“Alfred!” You got up and walked over to him, who rested a hand on your head expectantly. He saw the way you looked hesitantly at your brother, seeking some kind of approval before returning your attention to him once more. “Something bad happened to Mr. Wayne; he wasn’t well.”

Alfred's eyes widened, looking at Damian for an explanation or just confirmation that it was true. He was obviously tense and speechless for a moment but quickly composed himself.

“What happened, dear?” He asked, and once again you sought your brother’s approval, who took the initiative to explain in your place.

“He…” Damian began, trying to find a way to say it. “Bruce discovered something about Strange.” He said with a suspicious tone and the butler quickly understood the underlying implications.

“Where is he?” Alfred asked, worried.

Damian wasn’t planning to answer, knowing Alfred’s aversion to Talia, but you jumped in: “He and my Mom are talking.”

The butler was obviously displeased and furrowed his brow. He had planned to tell Bruce privately about his supposed daughter, but apparently, things had moved ahead of him. But Alfred knew Bruce well and understood that despite his instability, he would handle things as rationally as possible. Or at least he hoped so.

It was unsettling how a simple night so suddenly turned into yet another Wayne family drama.

“Well,” he sighed, “It seems it’s too early for breakfast, but also too late to go back to sleep.” He gave your hair a gentle tousle with the hand that still rested there, and you appreciated it. Indeed, the sky was already beginning to lighten. “How about some tea to start the day, miss? Or maybe coffee?”

“That’s fine.” You said, accepting that he would guide you through the mansion once more, but stopped when you realized your brother wasn’t making an effort to follow. “Damian, aren’t you coming?”

Your hopeful tone made him huff and approach to follow you. “Let’s go then.” He joined you, heading downstairs.

Damian was deeply irritated by how easily you let your emotions come and go. To him, it was inconceivable that you weren’t resentful, even hating him, as he had presumed you would be just moments ago. The way you let your emotions dissipate so easily bothered him, and he couldn’t understand how you could forgive so simply.

This behavior had always been the target of Damian’s criticism, as he didn’t have the same ease with forgiveness. What ate him up inside, however, was the certainty that even if you found out everything he and Talia had done, you would still be able to forgive them.

Damian suspected that this readiness to forgive came from a lack of options. Throughout your life, you had only him and your mother, and breaking away from either of them would be devastating. Perhaps that was Talia’s greatest fear; even if she tried to convince herself that she kept you hidden for your own good, away from the League and Batman, Damian knew that deep down, she wanted to ensure a safe harbor, someone who would always be emotionally supportive.

Although you might appear to be an very naive girl, your morals were unwavering. And incredibly, Talia managed to keep you loyal to her. Both of them knew that you secretly hated criminals and dreamed of a perfect justice that would never exist, at least not in Gotham City.

Damian knew that his mother’s real fear was that you would find someone else beyond her, people with whom you could connect, not out of obligation or lack of other options, but because you genuinely wanted to. This emotional dependency, nurtured by Talia, made you more spoiled than Damian, who in turn always confronted Talia with stubbornness and resistance.

“Do you like any fruit?” Pennyworth asked you, who were with your arms crossed on the counter, while your brother sat at the end of the table, just keeping watch over your figure.

“All of them.” You replied, and Alfred laughed contentedly. It was nice to hear something like that, especially as he opened the kitchen cupboard and saw the colorful cereals inside, all from Tim’s never-ending stash of treats.

“Master Damian?” The butler asked the boy.

“No, thank you.” He declined with a grimace.

You watched with curiosity as Alfred grabbed a bunch of colorful fruits and began cutting them. There was some kind of dough resting in a container nearby, which you noticed when he moved a cloth to check, and it smelled so good. It was comforting to see him there in the kitchen, even doing something as simple as cutting fruits.

Talia was a very busy woman, and cooking definitely didn’t suit her elegant demeanor. Housework was not part of her routine, so you often ended up eating at expensive restaurants. That’s why every move Alfred made captured your attention, and he noticed.

“Do you want to help me, miss?” He asked, intrigued.

“Can I?” You asked back, already moving to stand next to him with excitement. The butler nodded and instructed you to wash your hands in the sink on the other side of the kitchen.

You were distractedly scrubbing soap on your hands and far enough not to hear Damian whisper: “Bruce isn’t going to let Mom take her home.”

Alfred looked up, not at all surprised by the news. “Does your sister know, Master Damian?” He kept his voice at the same low tone as the boy’s.

“No, Pennyworth. That’s why I’m telling you.” Damian checked to see if you were still far, seeing you drying your hands and hurrying: “When they both come out of that room and Mom leaves, she’s going to make a fuss.”

“What should I do?” You came back, interrupting their conversation and asking for instructions.

Alfred set you the task of removing the stems from the strawberries until a noise from upstairs alerted all three of you. It sounded like glass, and it didn’t take long to hear Talia’s voice calling for the butler, who moved to go to her.

“I’m leaving,” Talia said with a firmness that disguised well the inner turmoil she was facing behind her attitude.

You were stunned, and a rising panic took hold of you. Alfred hadn’t noticed you had followed him until you heard: “I’m going to get my shoes and coat.” You declared. Your mind was spinning with the idea that your mother was angry with you, seeing how she was acting.

Talia turned slightly to you, but the look she gave was impassive. “You’re not coming,” she said. The coldness in her voice wasn’t unfamiliar but struck deep in your chest. “You’re going to stay here with your brother.”

“But…” You tried to process what was happening, needing to look at Damian next to you for a moment until reality hit you back. “Why?” You asked with a trembling breath, already approaching her and grabbing your mother’s hand in desperation.

“For heaven’s sake, Y/n. Isn’t this what you wanted?” She rolled her eyes and looked at you with impatience. “You and Damian will get to spend time together again.”

“But what about you, Mom? Why can’t we all be together?” You clung to her hand even tighter, trying to keep her there forever, but all you received in return was the look she gave when you upset her.

“I’ll send your things with someone. Be obedient.” She said, but her real desire was for you to be rebellious, especially towards Bruce. Your mother crouched to your height and pinched your cheeks with her hands while whispering so the other two wouldn’t hear: “But remember, you’re mine daughter, understand? Your mother will always be here for you. I’ll get in touch.” She gave you a strong kiss, leaving a perfect lipstick mark, and grabbed the coat that was already in Alfred’s hands with haste.

“I want to go with you!” Talia felt your arms around her waist and sighed.

“You're old enough to be acting like this, Y/n. Let go.” She tried to wriggle free on her own, but your grip was so strong that her fingers barely moved. “Y/n, enough!” She shouted genuinely furious, and you jumped back in fear. The sight made her wilt, but she still suppressed it and opened the door.

You were in shock, never imagining that your actions could have led to this. It was as if she hated you for it, and you felt a pressure on your forehead, unsure if it was from the anger you felt at how your mother treated you or from the desperation.

“Don’t go after her,” Damian ordered, knowing you would do it anyway, which is why he held you in place.

You couldn’t accept it. The idea of being left behind, the feeling of being rejected by the only family you knew, was overwhelming. “Mom!” You shouted, struggling to free yourself from Damian’s grip in fury, the sadness totaly replaced by a burning rage. “Don’t leave! I’m sorry for disobeying! I didn’t mean to do anything wrong!” you screamed. “Why are you like this with me?!” You shouted louder, not caring about making a scene.

Talia’s feet were already buried in the snow, trying to hide the pain she felt, but your muffled voice didn’t help. The sound of the door closing was like a final blow, and her heart sank even further. She didn’t care whether Bruce was right or not; she hated him like hell now.

You were sobbing and gasping, the pain of rejection still present in your chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t want you to leave…” You murmured lower, feeling your throat ache.

As she took more steps towards her own car, her thoughts raced. She knew that sooner or later you would need to know the truth, and deep down, she wished the news had come from her.

She tried to keep her mind clear during the brief walk to the car, passing by a snow-covered tree where ravens had gathered to rest. She was so distracted for a few seconds that when she felt an arm pull her back, she instinctively threw the stranger away, who hit the trunk and caused the birds to start flying erratically while cawing discordantly.

“What the hell is this!” She shouted furiously, shocking the boy who immediately began to apologize while getting up, feeling pain.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Scare me?!” She was outraged by his assumption. As if she would be scared by a kid like him. “And which of Bruce’s little pests are you?”

“My name is Tim.” The boy assumed a serious tone now, abandoning the polite courtesy he had before.

“And are you going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to tell me what you want?”

Despite her hurry, Tim stared at her and looked back, checking if there was anyone outside the mansion and taking a few seconds to do so. Talia’s arrogant look didn’t intimidate him, and he spoke firmly:

“A few years ago, in that alley…” The phrase made her eyes widen, but she still took a deep breath to compose herself. “It was you.”

Talia never thought she would have the opportunity to face that boy again after that day. When Strange fled, she followed him and caught up with him. She remembers how she grabbed the man by the collar when she didn’t see you there. After wringing the truth out of that pathetic man, Talia had to let him go as she rushed desperately to where you were, but not before leaving a beaten face as a gift. But that night, that boy... Tim, had heard your call for help.

“So, you were the Robin.” She let out a curious laugh, looking Tim up and down. “And so what if it was me?”

“You tricked me. Pretended to be a helpless person.” He frowned while narrowing his eyes at her. “I remember the little girl I saved; it was her.” Tim turned his face towards the mansion again, as if to point at you.

“You just had the luck of arriving before me. And what did you expect me to do? Tell you who I was?” She took her gloves out of her pocket and began putting them on. “Do you think you could have caught me, kid?” She laughed sarcastically this time, belittling him.

“You could have told me the truth. You had the opportunity to tell Bruce about Hugo Strange all this time. We could have protected her.” Tim’s eyes moved around, trying to process. “After I left there, Bruce and I continued on patrol and found him passed out. If we had known who he really was, he might be in jail now.”

“Spare me your laments, kid. She’s going to stay here, isn’t she? So what else do you want?” Talia said, and Tim wasn’t surprised by the information. He had already assessed the scene while waiting to approach her outside. He had jumped through the bedroom window, having not been able to sleep after recognizing your face.

Tim remained silent. It seemed that Talia had a very concrete idea about everything, and it made no sense to try to circle her with assumptions about how things could have been. He couldn’t help but feel foolish, realizing that you had been so close to him at some point, and he couldn’t do anything for Bruce since he didn’t know.

“Listen.” Talia’s surprisingly soft voice caught him off guard. “Thank you for helping, even though I didn’t exactly need it.” Despite trying to be understanding, she couldn’t help but emphasize. “She means everything to me, you understand? Put some sense into your father, or I’ll find a way to take her back, and I promise you’ll never see her again.”

Tim swallowed hard at the mention of Bruce but snorted indifferently soon after. “He’s not as bad as he seems.”

“I noticed.” She murmured with irony and turned to walk away, with Tim not interrupting her this time. The boy watched her go to the car, but suddenly she stopped at the gate. She ran her fingers over the electronic lock, and suddenly some loose wires became visible. Tim found it strange, and Talia looked at him with a smile, which even from a distance, he could see.

“I think you’re going to need someone to fix this.” She shouted for him to hear, and for a moment, Tim thought if she had done it, but only now did he wonder how you had gotten past the front gate. It seems that your innocent face hid some skills. “Don’t pamper her, and tell your father and Pennyworth not to let her eat too much sugar.” She let the wires go while grumbling, slamming the car door, and driving away.

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@m4chine-girl @kellyyn02 @urminebutidontwantyou

[mononijikayu]

honeymoon — gojo satoru.

He grins. “We’ll see!” he replies, leaning closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “Now, how about we start this honeymoon properly? I was thinking of a little walk along the Seine, maybe a café stop or two……” You nod, feeling the excitement bubble up inside you. “That sounds perfect.” “But seriously, wifey. Let them be annoyed back at home.” he shrugged when you expressed concern over the complaints he might face. “They’ve been annoyed with me my whole life. I’d rather have them grumbling than miss out on this with you. I mean, it's been years! Couldn’t they just let us live?”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, smut, making out, body praise, kissing, rough sex, p-i-v sex, oral (male and female receiving), pet names (baby, wifey....), love, humor, light-hearted, married life, being in love, sexual intercourse, intoxication, partying, slice of life, domestic life, family, honeymoon, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, depiction of alcohol consumption, depiction of being drunk, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of being drunk, mention of alcoholic consumption, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! satoru, wife! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.5k words

NOTE: when i was plotting, i really thought about how i never made an explicit thing for us and them, so this is an extension of this along with my other things. i also included the end, because it was just something i think about. how would satoru gojo explain to his child how he was made? anyway, i hope you enjoy it!!! i love you <3

masterlist

kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip!

══════════════════

THIS WAS A LOT, EVEN FOR HIM. Two years of marriage, and you were finally going on a honeymoon. It was a journey that had been delayed for so long, almost forgotten amid the chaos of life and the expectations that weighed heavily on Gojo Satoru as the clan leader.

From the beginning, Satoru had refused to follow the traditional expectations—refused to parade you like some prize on display for the men in the clan. On your wedding night, instead of the grand celebrations and rituals everyone had expected, there had been a quiet understanding between the two of you.

Back then, you and Satoru were far from being romantically inclined. The marriage had been more of an alliance, an arrangement to fulfill the duties both of you bore. He hadn’t wanted to make you uncomfortable, and you had appreciated his consideration, even if it left a lingering sense of uncertainty between you.

But time had worked its magic, slowly and subtly. You had grown closer, finding comfort and familiarity in each other's presence. The first kiss had been tentative, almost accidental, but it had opened the door to something more profound. Each kiss after that became less about caution and more about the quiet desire that had started to blossom between you.

Now, you stood together at the threshold of something new. You had been the one to bring it up, gently, cautiously. You told him you were ready for the next step, ready to explore the possibilities that had once seemed so distant. Satoru had listened, his usual playful demeanor tempered by something more serious, more uncertain.

For all his bravado and confidence, you could see the nervousness in his eyes, the slight hesitation that had become rare in the man who seemed unshakable. This was new for him too, a path neither of you had walked before, and the weight of it was not lost on him.

As you packed for the trip, you could feel the unspoken tension between you both, a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Satoru hovered nearby, throwing casual remarks your way, but there was an edge to his voice that you couldn’t ignore.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he finally asked, his gaze intense as he watched you carefully fold the last of your clothes into the suitcase.

You met his eyes, seeing the vulnerability he rarely showed. “I’m sure, you know?” you said, your voice steady. “But we don’t have to rush anything. We’ll take it at our own pace.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, and he nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You always know how to keep me grounded,” he said, his tone lightening.

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that hadn’t been there before. “We’ll be okay, Satoru,” you reassured him. “We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

He reached out, pulling you into his arms, holding you close. “Yeah, we have.” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, with you.”

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the uncertainty began to melt away, replaced by the quiet confidence that whatever came next, you would face it together. This trip, this honeymoon, was just another step in a journey that was uniquely yours, one that you were ready to take with him by your side.

The morning of the trip arrives with a quiet hum of excitement and a nervous energy that fills the air. Satoru, always so composed, is now anything but. He paces the living room, hands running through his snowy white hair, the usual spark in his eyes dimmed by a deep-seated anxiety. For once, the great Satoru Gojo—the man who could face curses and calamity without a flicker of fear seems utterly and completely lost.

“What if I mess this up?” he mutters to himself, barely noticing the presence of Megumi, Tsumiki, and your mother as they watch him from the doorway. “What if she realizes this was a mistake? What if I just do the worst and I—”

Your mother steps forward first, her soft, reassuring voice cutting through his frantic rambling. “Satoru,” she says gently, a calm smile on her lips. “You need to breathe. You’re going to be fine.”

He glances at her, his expression a mix of gratitude and confusion. “But… What if I’m not? What if I do something wrong? What if—”

Megumi, who had been quietly observing from the side, sighs and steps closer. “You’re overthinking again, it’s really annoying.” he says, his tone blunt but not unkind. “She chose you, Gojo–san. And she’s still here. That’s not going to change just because you’re nervous about this trip.”

Satoru pauses, considering the words, his brow furrowed. “But what if—”

“Gojo–san.” Tsumiki interrupts, her voice softer than Megumi’s but just as firm. “You love her, right?”

He blinks, as if the question is absurd. “Of course I do!” he answers immediately, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “I love her more than anything.”

“Then trust her.” Tsumiki says simply, with her beaming smile. “Trust that she loves you too. Trust that she understands.”

Your mother nods, her hand reaching out to touch his arm gently. “She knows you, Satoru. She knows your flaws, your strengths… and she loves you anyway. Just be yourself. That’s all she wants.”

Satoru takes a deep breath, his shoulders still tense but beginning to relax under their calming words. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up, you know?” he admits, his voice almost a whisper. “I don’t want to lose her. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Megumi, always the quiet anchor in the storm that was Satoru’s life, steps even closer. “You won’t.” he says with quiet certainty. “You’re both figuring this out together. It’s okay to be nervous, but don’t let that stop you from enjoying this. She wants to see you happy, Gojo–san. And I think… you need to see that too.”

Satoru nods slowly, his breath evening out as he absorbs their words. He straightens up, his usual confidence creeping back into his posture, but now tempered with something softer, more genuine.

“Okay….okay.” he murmurs, a small smile forming. “Okay. I can do this.”

Your mother squeezes his arm one last time, her smile warm and encouraging. “You already are, Satoru. Now go! The two of you need to make some great memories. And don’t forget to have fun.”

He laughs, a little shakily, but it’s a real laugh, the kind that lights up his face. “Yeah, fun… I think I remember how to do that, mother!” he teases, and they all chuckle.

As they head back to their respective rooms in the house, Gojo Satoru stands alone for a moment, taking a deep breath. He feels lighter, as if a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

The anxiety is still there, but it’s manageable now, a small flutter in his chest rather than a crushing force. He loves you too much to let fear get in the way. He loves you enough to take this step, to trust in the bond you’ve built together, one small moment at a time.

When he finally comes to find you, finally ready and dressed for the airport. He couldn’t help but just stare. You were so beautiful. And you chose him, to love him like this and bless him with beauty like this. Somehow, there’s a new steadiness in his gaze, a renewed sense of purpose. He reaches for your hand, his grip firm but gentle, and you can feel the resolve in his touch. You smiled at him, squeezing back.

“I’m ready to go.” he says softly, his blue eyes searching for yours. “Ready to do this, with you.”

You smile, squeezing his hand back. “Then let’s go, Satoru. Let’s make this ours.”

And with that, you both step forward—toward whatever the future holds, side by side, ready to face it together.

══════════════════

IT WAS A LONG FLIGHT, AND HE COULDN’T SLEEP. The plane touched down in the city of Paris, the city bathed in the soft light of an early evening. Gojo Satoru’s firm fingers remain intertwined with yours as you both step out into the bustling airport, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand, a small, comforting gesture that has become second nature to him.

He’s still a little on edge, that was certain. You can tell from the way his eyes dart around, the smallest twitch of his lips betraying his usual calm. But he’s here, and that matters more than anything.

He had taken time off, a long time, much to the frustration of the higher-ups and the clan elders who had protested and argued about duty and obligations. Yet Satoru had been unyielding, for once using his influence not for some mission or jujutsu-related endeavor, but for something that mattered far more to him—you.

Satoru seems more relaxed now, leaning back in the seat, one arm casually draped over your shoulders. “I still can’t believe I managed to take this much time off.” he muses aloud, a small smile on his lips. “I think they’re having a meltdown back at the school. But, honestly? Worth it.”

You chuckle. “Are you going to get in trouble for this?” you ask, a little worried despite yourself.

He snorts. “Let them try,” he says with a wink. “They can’t exactly do much to the strongest sorcerer in the world, can they?”

His arrogance, though familiar, is softened by the way he looks at you, his gaze filled with an affection that makes your cheeks warm. “Besides, wifey….” he continues. “If it means I get to see you smile like that, I’d take a whole year off.”

You shake your head, amused. “That might be a bit much, even for you, Satoru.”

He grins. “We’ll see!” he replies, leaning closer, his lips brushing against your temple. “Now, how about we start this honeymoon properly? I was thinking of a little walk along the Seine, maybe a café stop or two……”

You nod, feeling the excitement bubble up inside you. “That sounds perfect.”

“But seriously, wifey. Let them be annoyed back at home.” he shrugged when you expressed concern over the complaints he might face. “They’ve been annoyed with me my whole life. I’d rather have them grumbling than miss out on this with you. I mean, it's been years! Couldn’t they just let us live?” 

Nothing more was talked about after that. He was right, if he was being honest. You two have been married for a while now and Gojo Satoru never really took any holidays unless you guys needed him for important school dates or to spend time with you on the weekends. And you supposed you understood, because you were like that too before you took a long break from being a Jujutsu sorcerer. 

Now you supposed, your husband Satoru seems lighter, his usual goofy, excited smile finally returning. You liked him like this, you think. Even then when you first met him, he had a really nice smile. And you wanted to keep him this way. Smiling and happy. Because he looked the most beautiful like that.

 “So, wifey…..” he says, glancing over at you with a playful gleam in his bright blue eyes. “Where to first, madame Gojo? The Seine or the cafe?”

The way he says it, with a comically exaggerated French accent, makes you laugh joyously. “You’ve really been practicing, mon amour?” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

He laughs, the sound bright and carefree. “I’ve been preparing as always!” he corrects, “Wouldn’t it make it the perfect trip if it was hassle free by speaking French? Of course, only the best for my beloved, after all.” 

His words carried a mixture of sincerity and that playful confidence you had grown so fond of, causing your heart to skip a beat. The joy that shimmered in his eyes was contagious, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his enthusiasm. With a smile tugging at your lips, you leaned into the moment. 

“Then let’s enjoy a walk to the Seine river and then go to the café,” you said softly.

“Oh? That sounds like a plan!” Satoru responded with his signature energy, his grin wide and carefree. 

As the two of you ventured out into the crisp evening air, the world seemed to blur into the background. His hand held yours firmly, fingers intertwined as if they’d always belonged there. Every step along the Seine felt like something out of a dream.

The golden lights of Paris danced on the water’s surface, flickering like they were playing just for you. You caught Satoru sneaking glances at the city around him—his eyes bright and full of wonder as he took in the reflection of lights on the river, the charming hum of the city enveloping you both.

What captivated him the most, though, wasn’t the sights of Paris, but you. You felt his gaze linger every time you smiled at the simple things: a street musician playing a gentle tune, the comforting scent of pastries that filled the air. He marveled at the joy you found in these little moments, and somehow, you felt even more connected to him. With each passing second, it was like you were experiencing the city together, seeing it through each other's eyes.

There were no words needed. Satoru’s presence—steady, warm—was more than enough. As you walked, it felt as though time had paused, and all that existed was the quiet beauty of the night, the sound of your footsteps, and the feeling of his hand in yours.

As the night wears on, your husband insists on buying you a flower from a street vendor, presenting it to you with a flourish and an exaggerated bow that makes you laugh. You catch him watching you more than he watches the sights, his eyes full of a softness that you’ve rarely seen before, as if he’s trying to memorize every moment, every expression on your face.

Later, you find a small café tucked away on a quiet street. Your lovely Satoru orders in perfect French, much to the amusement of the waiter. You think that the Frenchman was delighted at the thought of someone speaking the language, but the accent you supposed was still not enough. Still, you think his pretty face made him more endearing. 

The two of you sit outside to enjoy the lovely glow of the streetlights, sharing a dessert and sipping on your drinks, your chairs pulled close together. You got an espresso and your husband got a really sweet iced caramel macchiato, with a pain au chocolat and a chocolate cake on the side.

“I’ve never seen you this relaxed, you know?” you comment softly, noticing the way his shoulders have finally lost their tension.

He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “I’ve never had a reason to be either, well…not until recently. Especially with you.” he admits. “Being with you… it makes everything else seem less important.”

You reach out, placing your hand over his. “Thank you for this, Satoru.” you say quietly. “For taking this time. For making me feel like I’m worth all of it.”

He turns his hand over, squeezing yours. “You’re worth more than that, wifey.” he replies, his voice low and earnest. “You’re worth everything to me.”

For a moment, the world seems to slow, and it’s just the two of you, sitting together in a little café in Paris, a city full of life and love. The future seems bright, and the worries of the past fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being here, together.

As the night grows deeper, Satoru leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re happy?” he asks softly, as if seeking reassurance.

You smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been.” you whisper back.

His smile widens, his eyes sparkling with relief and joy. “Good.” he murmurs. “Because I plan to keep you that way, no matter what.”

And in that moment, under the Parisian sky, you know he means every word.

The days in Paris begin to blur together, a soft blend of golden light, laughter, and the endless discovery of each other in a new place. You wake each morning to the sound of Satoru's humming, his voice light and carefree as he attempts a tune he’s probably heard in some old movie. He looks so at peace here, his usual edges softened, a smile almost always playing on his lips.

Your first full day is filled with exploration. You both decide to take things slow, meandering through the narrow streets, Satoru’s hand warm in yours. He insists on trying every pastry you come across, from croissants to pain au chocolat, and he buys them in excess, delighting in your shared bites and the way your face lights up with every taste. 

At some point, you find yourselves at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, the iconic structure towering above you. Satoru looks up, his sunglasses perched on his nose, shielding his eyes from the midday sun. “So, do we do the tourist thing?” he asks, grinning.

You laugh, nodding. “Why not? We’re here, aren’t we?”

He pulls you along, his excitement infectious as you both make your way to the elevator. The ride up is filled with a mix of awe and a little bit of playful bickering. Satoru teases you about your slight fear of heights, and you mock him for pretending to be calm when you can feel the tension in his grip on the rail.

At the top, the view is breathtaking. Paris stretches out beneath you like a painting—rooftops, winding streets, the Seine glittering in the distance. Satoru stands behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “Look….” he murmurs in your ear. “All of this… and you’re still the best thing I’ve seen today.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re so cheesy, Satoru.”

He chuckles, his breath warm against your neck. “Only for you.”

As you gaze out at the city, you feel his heart beating against your back, steady and strong. It’s moments like this that make you realize just how far you’ve come with him—from the careful, tentative steps of your early marriage to the unspoken trust and affection that now bloom between you. The nervousness that lingered in both of you is slowly fading, replaced by something deeper, something real.

Later, as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, you find yourselves wandering into a small park. The air is cooler, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves overhead. Satoru pulls you toward a bench, sitting down and tugging you onto his lap. He’s always been tactile, always needed that physical connection, and you’ve come to find comfort in it too.

He looks up at you, his blue eyes softening in the fading light. “You know,” he starts, his tone uncharacteristically serious, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head, curious. “That’s new for you.”

He laughs, his chest rumbling beneath you. “Ha-ha. Very funny.” he quips, but there’s a fondness in his voice. “No, really. I’ve been thinking about how… how different everything feels now. How much I want this… us, to be real. Not just an arrangement or a convenience.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest. “It already is real, Satoru.” you whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He nods, his expression earnest. “I know. But I want more. I want… all of you. Your happiness,  your worries, your dreams… everything. I want you to know that I’m here. Fully, completely.”

For a moment, you’re lost in his gaze, the sincerity in his words sinking in. “I do know, you know?” you say softly. “And I’m here too. I’ve always been.”

He smiles, a genuine, radiant smile that makes your heart swell. “Good.” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Because I’ve got big plans for us, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And what kind of plans might those be?”

He grins, that playful light back in his eyes. “Well, I was thinking… maybe a little house somewhere quiet, where we can have lazy mornings and late nights, and I can spend every day annoying you with my presence. Lots of space for Tsumiki and Megumi. For….for more kids, maybe.”

You laugh, the sound bright and free. “Sounds like a dream.” you tease.

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. “It is, isn’t it?” he whispers against your mouth. “My dream. Our dream.”

And as you sit there, wrapped in his arms under the soft glow of the Parisian twilight, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, knowing that no matter what comes next, you’ll face it together, with love and laughter and all the beautiful, messy moments in between.

══════════════════

BEFORE LONG, THEY WERE INTO THE FUN. The night falls deeper, and you find yourselves in a cozy, dimly lit jazz bar on the quieter side of the city. The music is soft and sultry, a saxophone weaving its way through the smoky air. You’ve already had a few drinks, and while you’re feeling pleasantly light, Satoru—who rarely drinks at all—has decided tonight is an exception.

He raises his glass, clinking it gently against yours, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “To us!” he toasts, his voice already carrying that playful slur that makes your heart flutter.

“To us!” you echo, and take a sip, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

The band starts up a livelier tune, something with a beat that makes your foot tap against the floor. Satoru grins, setting down his glass with a flourish. “Come on, wifey!” he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you up,.“Get up! Come on, let’s dance.”

You laugh, a little unsteady on your feet, but you let him lead you to the small, crowded dance floor. He spins you around with a dramatic flair, earning a few amused glances from the other patrons, but you don’t care. Tonight, it’s just the two of you, and the rest of the world feels miles away.

Satoru moves with an unexpected grace, his movements loose and free. He’s not a bad dancer—in fact, he’s surprisingly good, his body swaying in rhythm with the music. You let yourself be pulled close, your hands resting on his shoulders as he guides you through the steps, his laughter bright and infectious.

“You’re actually good at this, Satoru.” you tease, your head spinning slightly, not just from the drinks but from the way he looks at you—like you’re the only person in the room.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I have many hidden talents, always!” he whispers, his tone low and teasing. “But this, wifey….” he continues, his hands sliding down to rest at the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “This is my favorite one.”

You can’t help the giggle that escapes you, and Satoru’s grin widens. The two of you continue dancing, moving in sync, the music carrying you along, your bodies pressed close, swaying with the rhythm. The alcohol has made you both bolder, and you feel his hands tighten on your waist, his touch firm yet gentle.

Your heart races as his face draws closer, his lips brushing your ear. “You know, wifey….” he murmurs, his voice low, “I don’t usually do this—drinking and dancing like an idiot.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know you don’t.” you reply softly, your hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “But I’m glad you’re doing it with me.”

He chuckles, his lips brushing against your cheek. “Me too.”

And then, without warning, he leans in and kisses you—a deep, lingering kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. His mouth is warm and insistent, moving against yours with a fervor that catches you off guard, and for a moment, you forget where you are, lost in the sensation of his lips, his hands, the way he’s pulling you closer as if he never wants to let go.

You kiss him back, your fingers tangling in his hair, and he groans softly, his grip on you tightening. The world around you blurs, and it’s just the two of you, kissing like you’re the only people in the universe. His hands slide up your back, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, sending sparks of electricity shooting through you.

“God, you taste good,” he mutters against your mouth, his voice husky, and you feel a surge of heat pool in your stomach. You press yourself closer to him, your body molding against his, and his breath hitches, a low growl rumbling from his chest.

“Satoru, baby.” you whisper, your voice breathy, and he kisses you again, harder this time, his hands roaming your back, his touch growing bolder with every passing second. You can feel his heart pounding against yours, his breath hot and fast, and your own pulse quickens in response.

“Let’s get out of here, wifey.” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark with desire.

You nod, your breath coming in short, excited bursts. “Yeah….let’s go.” you whisper back, feeling the same burning need coursing through you.

He grabs your hand, his grip firm and steady, and you both make a quick exit from the bar, laughter bubbling between you as you stumble into the cool night air. The streets of Paris are quiet now, the city settling into the late hours, but you hardly notice or rather, you could scarcely care. You were too far gone in cloud nine to care.

Your husband Satoru pulls you close again, his lips finding yours with a renewed intensity, and you’re lost in him once more, the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, the way he’s holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

You barely make it back to the hotel, your kisses growing more heated, more desperate, with each step. By the time you reach your room, Satoru’s hands are tangled in your hair, his lips moving down your neck, and you’re breathless with want, your fingers tugging at his shirt.

He fumbles with the key, cursing under his breath, and you laugh, breathless, helping him steady his hands. When the door finally swings open, he pulls you inside, kicking it shut behind you, and his mouth is on yours again, hot and demanding.

You push him back against the wall, your hands roaming his chest, and he lets out a low, pleased hum, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, sliding up your sides, making you shiver. “I’ve wanted this, wifey.” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “ I just wanted you so bad… for so long.”

Your response is a quiet moan as his lips find yours again, his hands pulling you even closer, and you know, in this moment, that this is exactly where you want to be—wrapped up in his arms, feeling his heartbeat against yours, letting the world outside fade away until it’s just the two of you, lost in each other, in Paris, under the spell of the night.

The room is dimly lit, the curtains drawn, and the air is thick with the heat of your bodies. Satoru’s breath comes out in ragged gasps, his head thrown back against the pillows, his hair splayed out in a mess of white strands. He grips the sheets beneath him tightly, his knuckles white with the force, and his chest rises and falls with every sharp inhale.

“God……..” he groans, voice low and breathless, the sound of it echoing in the small space. His eyes are half-lidded, darkened with lust, but there’s a softness there too, a look of wonder as he gazes down at you.

You move against him with purpose, your mouth warm and soft, sliding up and down his length with a rhythm that has his hips bucking up slightly, desperate for more. Your tongue swirls around him, and he gasps, the sound breaking into a quiet moan, his hands reaching for you, fingers tangling in your hair.

“Feels so good, wifey.” he slurs, his voice thick and heavy with pleasure. “Fuck… you’re so perfect.” He can barely keep his eyes open, his head rolling back against the pillow, his body taut with tension, the pleasure building in waves that crash over him again and again.

You hum softly, the vibration sending a shiver through him, and his fingers tighten in your hair, his breath catching in his throat. “Oh, right there….” he gasps, his voice breaking. “Don’t… don’t stop.”

You don’t. You keep going, moving with a deliberate slowness that has him trembling beneath you, his entire body responding to every flick of your tongue, every gentle scrape of your teeth. He’s never felt like this—so completely undone, so out of control. And yet he’s never felt more alive, more connected, more in love than he does right now, with you.

His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin, and he looks at you, his eyes searching yours. “I—” he starts, but his voice catches, and he swallows hard, trying to steady himself. “I love you, baby.” he whispers, the words spilling out of him in a rush, as if he can’t keep them in any longer.

You pause for just a second, your eyes meeting his, and the intensity of his gaze takes your breath away. There’s so much there—desire, adoration, fear, and a kind of raw, aching need that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

Then you smile, just a little, your lips curling around him, and you take him in deeper, drawing a ragged moan from his throat. He bucks up again, his grip on the sheets tightening as he feels that familiar coil of heat tightening in his stomach, building and building with every movement, every sensation.

“Ah… I can’t—” he chokes out, his breath hitching, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna—”

And then he’s gone, his head tipping back, a guttural moan tearing from his lips as he comes undone, the pleasure crashing over him in a wave so intense he feels like he might just shatter. His whole body tenses, his hips jerking up as he spills into your mouth, his eyes squeezing shut as the world blurs around him.

For a moment, everything is silent, save for the sound of his heavy breathing, his chest heaving with the effort. He feels like he’s floating, his body weightless, his mind blank except for the overwhelming sensation of you, your warmth, your touch, your love.

When he finally comes back to himself, he looks down at you, his eyes still hazy, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Holy shit.” he breathes out, his voice shaky, and he lets out a weak laugh, his fingers still tangled in your hair. “That… that was incredible.”

You lean up, crawling up his body to press a kiss to his lips, and he kisses you back, slow and sweet, his hand cupping your cheek as if he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs against your mouth, his other hand trailing down your back, pulling you closer.

You smile against his lips, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against your chest, the way he’s still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of his release. “I think we’re just getting started, aren’t we?” you whisper, your voice low and teasing.

He grins, his eyes bright with excitement and affection. “Oh, I hope so.” he replies, his voice filled with promise, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “Because I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

And as he pulls you back down into another kiss, deep and slow, you feel it too—the certainty that whatever comes next, you’re ready for it. Together.

Satoru's grin softens as he looks at you, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. His eyes are filled with something tender and deep, a look that makes your heart swell with affection.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, languid kiss that seems to say everything he can't put into words. His hands are gentle as they explore your body, tracing every curve, every line, as if memorizing you by touch alone.

He pulls back slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he whispers, his voice low and full of emotion. "And tonight… Tonight is all about you."

You shiver at his words, a thrill running down your spine. His hands slide down your sides, settling on your hips, and he shifts you gently, guiding you onto your back. He hovers over you, his body warm and solid against yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from him, his desire palpable in the air between you.

He takes his time, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his mouth hot and soft as he moves lower, tasting your skin. Every kiss sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath catching in your throat as his mouth finds all the places that make you sigh, that make you arch against him.

His hands are everywhere—gentle yet insistent, roaming over your body, touching, caressing, exploring. His mouth follows, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, his lips brushing over your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, until you’re gasping, your fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on.

“Please, Satoru…” you whisper, your voice a soft, needy plea.

He smiles against your skin, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Patience, baby.” he murmurs, his voice teasing but thick with need. “I want to make this last… make you feel good.”

He continues his descent, his kisses growing more heated, more purposeful. His mouth moves lower still, down your stomach, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, and you feel your breath hitch, your body trembling with anticipation. His hands part your thighs, his touch firm but gentle, and you feel your heart start to race, your pulse pounding in your ears.

He glances up at you, his blue eyes dark and filled with a mixture of mischief and adoration. “Just relax, baby.” he whispers, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, making you gasp. “Let your loving husband take care of you.”

And then his mouth is on you, his tongue moving with a slow, deliberate precision that has you moaning his name, your hips lifting off the bed as pleasure sparks through you like wildfire.

He doesn’t rush—he takes his time, tasting you, teasing you, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you in place as he brings you to the brink over and over again.

You’re lost in the sensation, your head falling back against the pillows, your fingers gripping the sheets as he works you over with his mouth, his tongue moving in ways that make your toes curl, that send you spiraling into a state of pure, unadulterated bliss.

“Satoru, please!” you cry out, your voice breaking, and he hums against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through you.

“Mm, that’s it.” he murmurs, his voice muffled but full of satisfaction. “Let go for me… I want to feel you come.”

His words are like a command, and you feel yourself falling, tumbling over the edge as pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body arching against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him against you as you come, crying out his name.

But he doesn’t stop. He keeps going, his mouth relentless, his tongue flicking and curling, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you until you’re shaking, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your body trembling with aftershocks.

“Again, baby.” he whispers, his voice dark and filled with want. “I want to hear you scream my name again.”

And you do—again and again. He doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a moment to recover before he’s building you up again, his fingers joining his mouth, pressing into you with a rhythm that matches the beat of your racing heart. His thumb finds that perfect spot, rubbing circles that make your vision blur, and you’re gone again, crying out, your body clenching around him, your mind blank with pleasure.

You lose count of how many times he makes you come, each one more intense than the last, each wave of pleasure crashing over you like a storm, pulling you deeper and deeper into a sea of sensation. You’re breathless, your body spent, and yet he keeps going, determined to wring every last bit of pleasure from you, to make you feel as cherished and adored as he possibly can.

When you finally collapse against the sheets, your body trembling, your skin slick with sweat, he crawls up to meet you, his lips capturing yours in a soft, tender kiss, his hands gentle as they cradle your face.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers against your mouth, his voice filled with awe, his breath warm against your lips. “I could spend the rest of my life making you feel like this.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love, and you pull him close, kissing him deeply, letting him know without words that you feel the same. Because in this moment, with him, you’ve never felt more alive, more loved, more complete.

Satoru’s breath hitches when he feels you shift beneath him, the soft, unintentional grind of your hips against his sending a jolt of electricity straight through him. He bites back a moan, his fingers tightening on your hips instinctively, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment as he tries to maintain some semblance of control.

God, the way you affect him—how effortlessly you make his heart race, his breath catch, his body respond like this—it’s like you have a power over him that goes far beyond anything he’s ever known. He’s already hard, painfully so, and the thin fabric of his uniform pants does little to hide his need, the friction almost too much to bear.

“S-Shit…..” he mutters, his voice low and strained, and he swallows hard, trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected you to move like that, hadn’t expected the sheer intensity of his reaction.

He wants to touch you, to hold you, to be buried deep inside you, but he’s almost afraid to move, afraid that if he does, he’ll lose what little control he has left.

You shift again, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily, a broken moan escaping his lips as he presses against you, feeling your warmth, your softness, even through the layers of fabric. It’s too much, and yet not enough, and he feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

“God, baby.” he breathes out, his voice trembling, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to hold himself back. “You have no idea… what you do to me.”

He’s desperate, his body aching with need, his mind a haze of lust and longing, but he’s also so full of love, of adoration, that it takes his breath away. He wants you—he wants you more than he’s ever wanted anything—but he also wants to savor this, to make it last, to make sure you feel just as good as he does.

He grinds against you again, more deliberately this time, and he lets out a low, shuddering breath, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. “I’m… I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath. “I can’t… I can’t stop myself.”

His hands move to your waist, fingers splaying out over your skin, and he begins to move against you, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins. He can feel you beneath him, feel the heat of your body, the way you respond to his every touch, his every movement, and it drives him wild.

He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you with a hunger that matches the desperation in his movements, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, tasting you, devouring you. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips, and he tugs you closer, pulling you against him, needing more, needing everything.

“I… I need you. Need you so bad.” he murmurs against your lips, his voice breaking, raw and filled with longing. “I need to feel you… all of you.”

He shifts his weight slightly, his hands fumbling with the waistband of his pants, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he struggles to free himself. He’s too impatient, too needy, and he lets out a frustrated groan, his fingers trembling as he finally manages to shove his pants down just enough to release his aching length.

He’s rock-hard, the tip of his cock already leaking with precum, and he groans again as he presses against you, the heat of your body sending another wave of pleasure crashing through him.

“Please, baby.” he whispers, his voice desperate, his hips grinding against you, “I can’t… I can’t wait anymore.”

You arch against him, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin, and he moans, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels the head of his cock brush against your entrance.

He’s trembling, his whole body taut with need, and he can barely think, barely breathe, all he knows is that he wants you, needs you, more than anything. He presses forward slowly, carefully, his breath catching in his throat as he feels you envelop him, inch by inch, the tight, wet heat of you driving him to the brink of madness.

“Fuck… you feel… so good....” he groans, his hips pressing forward, sliding deeper inside you, and he can’t stop the shudder that runs through him, the overwhelming sensation of finally being inside you, of being this close, this connected.

He starts with deliberate slowness, his thrusts shallow and gentle, as if testing the boundaries of your shared connection. His breath catches, and you can feel the tension in his body, how he's holding back, savoring the sensation of being so close to you.

The warmth of him inside you, the way your bodies fit together so seamlessly, sends a shiver through you. Your legs instinctively tighten around him, pulling him deeper, and that's when you hear it—a low, guttural growl from deep within his chest.

The sound is raw, primal, a reflection of his desire, and it sends a jolt of electricity through your entire body. His restraint begins to crumble. He thrusts harder, his hips snapping against yours with growing intensity, and each movement feels more urgent, more desperate. His hands, once tender on your waist, now grip you with fervor, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough of you.

The pace quickens, his need spilling out in every motion. He’s relentless, each thrust filled with a hunger to make you feel the same pleasure that's overtaking him. You can hear the labored breaths escaping his lips, see the fire in his eyes as they lock onto yours. His voice, hoarse and trembling with emotion, breaks the silence between you.

“God… I love you.” he gasps, barely able to form the words between ragged breaths. His rhythm becomes frenzied, driven by the overwhelming sensation of being with you in this moment.

“I love you… so much… so fucking much,” he groans, his voice thick with passion. Each declaration is a pulse of raw emotion, his need to show you, to let you feel every ounce of his love, pouring out of him.

His movements, once careful and measured, have become wild and uncontrollable, driven by the depth of his feelings. Every thrust is a a call to his desire, every gasp a confession of how deeply he’s fallen for you.

His pace becomes frantic, a blend of raw need and overwhelming affection. Every movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, the intensity of his desire matching your own.

His hands roam from your waist to your hips, gripping tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as if he's afraid to let go—afraid that this moment might slip away if he doesn’t hold you close enough.

The sound of your bodies moving together fills the air, the room heavy with heat and tension. You feel the build-up of pleasure rising within you, matching the urgency of his thrusts.

His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, and there’s something almost vulnerable in the way he looks at you, as if his every feeling, his every thought, is laid bare in this moment.

His breath comes in ragged gasps, each one catching as his need grows more intense. The sensation of you wrapped around him, the way your body responds to his every touch, only fuels him further.

He lowers his head to press his lips against your neck, kissing a trail from your collarbone up to your jaw, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't… get enough of you," he murmurs against your skin, his voice shaky, consumed by the pleasure coursing through him. "You're everything… everything I need."

His words are laced with both desperation and adoration, the weight of his feelings crashing over him. With each thrust, you can feel how close he is to the edge, but he holds on, wanting to prolong this moment with you, to savor every second.

His hands grip your thighs now, pulling you even closer, the friction between you igniting sparks of pleasure that ripple through every nerve.

The pressure inside you builds, coiling tighter and tighter as he moves. His name falls from your lips in a breathless whisper, your body arching into him, and he groans in response, the sound reverberating deep within his chest.

It’s as if the world outside of this moment ceases to exist. All you can feel is him—his heat, his breath, the weight of his love for you driving him to move faster, harder.

“I’m so close, baby.” he gasps, his voice cracking as he struggles to hold on just a little longer, his body trembling with restraint. His eyes meet yours again, and the look in them is nothing short of devotion. “I need you… I need you to come with me.”

And with those words, everything inside you unravels. The release hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over you in wave after wave of pleasure, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him. He follows soon after, his body tensing as he lets out a guttural moan, his hips stuttering as he finally lets go, the force of his climax overwhelming him.

For a moment, neither of you move, the air between you thick with the afterglow of what you’ve just shared. His body rests against yours, both of you spent, your hearts beating in sync as you catch your breath.

══════════════════

epilogue

In the cozy living room of your home, Gojo Satoru sat on the floor with your son, Satoshi, sprawled out in front of him, surrounded by toys and colorful blocks.

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Satoru was trying to entertain Satoshi with a game of building blocks, but the little boy’s curiosity took an unexpected turn.

Satoshi looked up at Satoru, his big, innocent eyes full of questions. “Papa, papa!” he asked, “How was ‘toshi born?”

Satoru’s eyes widened, and he froze mid-block placement, the toy car in his hand almost slipping out. He glanced around, searching for a way to divert the conversation, but Satoshi was looking at him with unwavering expectation.

Satoru cleared his throat, his mind racing back to that unforgettable honeymoon in Paris and maybe a little after that…..you know, there’s been a lot and he just….he doesn’t know how and where things had become a bit… complicated. He doesn’t really count.

“Well, my little dawn…baby, you see…” Satoru began, trying to sound as casual as possible, “A lot of it is just…. it’s a bit of a… long story.”

Satoshi tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “A long story? Like when we go to Grandma’s house?”

Satoru nodded, his mind still floundering for the right words. “Exactly like that, but, um, with more… magic.”

Satoshi’s eyes widened, and he leaned closer. “Magic? Did you use your special powers?”

Satoru scratched the back of his head, trying to remember if there was a way to explain this that didn’t involve any, ahem, explicit details. “Well, it’s more like… a magical moment, little dawn.” he said, smiling nervously. “Because well….magic is magic!”

Satoshi looked thoughtful, then blinked. “Was it like when you make the cookies disappear?”

Satoru’s face turned a shade of red, and he tried to stifle a laugh. He doesn’t know how he was supposed to do this at all. “Uh, not exactly. More like… a really happy time when mama and papa were together, and, uh, we decided to have more family for big brother Megumi and big sister Tsumiki, you know?”

Satoshi nodded slowly, his tiny brow furrowing as he considered this. “So, you made cookies disappear and that’s how I got here?”

Satoru chuckled, a little relieved that Satoshi seemed satisfied with the vague explanation. “Sort of, yes. It’s a special kind of magic that’s, um, a bit different from making cookies disappear.”

Satoshi pondered this for a moment, then brightened. “Okay! Can we build a magic castle now?”

Satoru laughed, feeling a wave of relief. “Absolutely, let’s build the biggest magic castle ever!”

As Satoru helped Satoshi with the blocks, he couldn’t help but think that he had successfully dodged a bullet—or at least, he hoped he had. He glanced at the photo of you on the mantel and grinned, knowing that despite the complexities of parenthood, there were some things best left to the imagination.

When you arrived home, the late afternoon light was still spilling into the living room, casting a golden hue over the scene. You found Satoru and Satoshi surrounded by a sprawling fortress of colorful blocks, the little boy’s face alight with triumph as he declared his castle complete.

“Mama!” Satoshi called out, running over to greet you with his usual enthusiasm. “Look at the magic castle Papa and I built!”

You smiled, bending down to give him a hug. “It’s beautiful, Satoshi! I’m so proud of you.”

Satoru stood up, brushing the dust off his pants with a sheepish grin. He looked slightly relieved to see you, and he met your eyes with a hint of nervousness. You looked at him with curious eyes as he tried to take a deep breath. It was as though he was preparing himself to tell you something.

“Hey, baby.” you said, raising an eyebrow at him as you moved towards the kitchen. “How was your day with Satoshi?”

Satoru followed you, his expression a mix of amusement and apprehension. “It was good, but we had a little… conversation.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? About what?”

Satoru scratched the back of his neck, his face turning a bit red. “Well, Satoshi asked me how he was born….well, like not born. How…how he was made?”

You froze mid-step, your eyes widening as you looked at him. “Oh, really? And how did you handle that?”

Satoru let out a nervous chuckle. “I tried to explain it with… magic. I told him it was like a special kind of magic and that it happened when mama and papa decided to have a family.”

You stifled a laugh, trying to keep a straight face. “Did he buy that?”

Satoru shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sort of. He thought it was like making cookies disappear, so I went along with it.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head.You couldn’t stop to the point you were coughing. Satoru blushed, even his ears were red. “Cookies? That’s one way to put it.”

Satoru looked relieved to see you find the humor in the situation. “Yeah, I guess. He seemed satisfied, so I think we dodged a bullet.”

You walked over to Satoshi, who was now engrossed in a new block creation. You crouched down next to him, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Satoshi, did papa tell you a magic story?”

Satoshi nodded eagerly, his eyes shining. “Yes! And we built a magic castle! Papa said it’s like magic cookies!”

You glanced at Satoru, who was trying to suppress a grin. “Well, that sounds like a fun story.”

Satoru walked over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I think we managed to keep things light, but I’m glad you’re home to handle the next round of questions.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. And next time, maybe we’ll keep the magic cookies out of the explanation.”

Satoru grinned, pulling you into a gentle hug. “Deal. Thanks for saving me from my own magical misadventures.”

You both chuckled, watching as Satoshi continued his block building, blissfully unaware of the parental confusion that had preceded his masterpiece.

[writing-fanics]

more than anything

Lucifer Morningstar x F!Reader

chapter i > chapter ii > chapter iii

[summary: Charlie Morningstar arrives in hell and meets someone from her dad's past when he was an angel.]

warning: mentions of depression: angst: seemingly unrequited love: loneliness: charlie might be ooc:

Charlie gasped her eyes widened with joy, clasping her hands together jumping up and down excitedly. "Are you Y/n?!" She asked, and the angel looked at her shocked, "You already know about me?" the angel looked at the princess of hell, in disbelief.

"Of course, I do!" She exclaimed, remembering the stories her father used to tell her about, [Y/n].

"My dad would tell me stories about you when I was little!" She said smiling, at [Y/n] who's body tensed up for a moment and her cheeks darkened a little. "Really?" She mumbled, under her breath looking away from the princess for a moment. "I thought he'd forgotten about me." She mumbled, her smile faltering for a moment. Before shaking her head. Forcing a smile on her face.

Charlie looked around the angel's office curiously, "So, your father?" said [Y/n], looking over at Charlie, smiling as she continued to look around the room. "So what did your father tell you about me?" She asked, and the princess of hell nodded.

"Good things I hope?" She said, and the princess of hell looked at the angel. "Of course, he said you were the only angel that believed in him." said Charlie, and the angel smiled reminiscing on times that have long since passed.

"We shared the same dream even adding some ideas onto each others, expanding on them. " said [Y/n], looking down her angelic wings seemed to go limp at her side as she frowned, "That was eons ago," She said, looking down.

Their conversation went on for what seemed like hours, the angel saw so much of the one she loved in his daughter. [Y/n] talked about Lucifer, and stories that he never told Charlie. Charlie watched as the angel's eyes sparkled as she talked about memories. [Y/n]'s heart seemed to swell, and then to suddenly falter back to sadness as she remembered, that she was to shy too scared to confess her feelings for the man she loved.

“You loved him didn’t you?” asked Charlie, and the angel looked over at her in shock and smiled softly, and chuckled softly. “Loved?” said [Y/n], and she smiled her eyes closed as she turned towards Charlie. “I still love him?” She said, her smile forced.

She said, “I couldn't bring myself to tell him,” She wrapped her arms around herself, taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh. “I was afraid of ruining the friendship we already had.” She said, placing her hand on her head her thumb resting on her cheek, as she turned away from Charlie. Letting out a sigh, “I-If he didn’t accept my feelings, I didn't wanna lose what we already had." She bit her lip nervously, and turned back towards Charlie.

“S-So I didn’t." She said, looking at Charlie. The Princess of Hell, could see the sadness and loneliness in her eyes. Eyes that were filled with so much regret, "So, I watched as he fell in love with another." Her voice cracking slightly, clearing her throat she continued.

She pursed her lips inward, "Did and said nothing as he was banished to Hell," She looked down, "But, I can't take back what happened eons ago." She said, forcing a smile on her face as she looked at Charlie.

"So tell me about this Hazbin Hotel, I've been hearing so much about?" She asked, curiously and Charlie's eyes lit up. "Your father, wouldn't of set up a meeting with Heaven, without a reason." She said, and Charlie nodded.

[Y/n] listened intently about Charlie's plan, even though she was going to hear it again in court. She nodded in response smiling, "Sounds intriguing." the angel said, looking at the girl. "I do agree that everyone deserves a second chance." She said, a smile growing across Charlie's face.

"If those sinners that come to the hotel are willing." She added, placing her hands on her desk and sighed. "But, it isn't me who you are going to have too convince." She added, and Charlie looked at her, "But, I believe in the cause." She said, smiling looking at the princess of hell.

[Y/n] looked at Charlie and saw so much of her father in her, her heart couldn't help but ache. "You remind me of your father." Charlie looked at her and smiled, "Thank you, if it wasn't for him I wouldn't be here right now." said Charlie, “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.” said [Y/n] a hint of sadness in her voice.

Charlie smiled softly, "You really do love my dad don't you?" asked Charlie, and the angel looked away closing her eyes for a moment. Taking a deep breath and with a solemn look on her face, she turned back towards Charlie. "More than anything." said [Y/n] sadly, the room filled with silence. She still loves him even after eons have since passed they've last seen each other, "Sorry, I shouldn't even be saying this to you." She said shaking her head.

She scoffed at herself, "Telling you his daughter that I've got some silly crush on him," She shook her head and placed her head on her desk, "Ugh, I'm so pathetic!" She groaned, into her desk. For eons, after Lucifer was banished to Hell. [Y/n] hasn't been the same since forcing a fake smile on her face, while doing her daily angelic duties. With a fake smile plastered on her face.

One the inside she was hurting. She was lonely. She was depressed. Filled with so much regret being the cause of her own lonely existence. If she wasn't such a coward maybe things would've ended up differently maybe they wouldn't?

Charlie placed a hand on shoulder causing [Y/n], to lift her head and look up at her. "I'm sure he misses you just as you miss him." said Charlie smiling, trying to comfort the angel as much as she could.

"He used to tell me so many amazing and wonderful things about you," She said. [Y/n]'s lower lip started to quiver as tears welled up in her eyes, hiding her head into desk. She glanced over at the clock on the wall; lifting her head up from the desk. She wiped away her tears, "I-It's almost time for the court meeting. You should probably get ready." said [Y/n], as she stood up from her chair.

"Maybe, you can visit once this is all over?" Charlie said, and the angel looked at her and smiled, "I'm sure that would make both his and yours day." The angel really could see so much of the man she loved in his daughter, "That sounds like a dream to me." said [Y/n], as she walked towards the door and placing her hand on the door knob.

She missed him dearly and for many years she stayed in heaven, wallowing in self-pity and regret. Loneliness and heartbreak. Grieving over the lover she was to cowards to confess her feelings towards.

"But, I don't know. Right now you should focus on convincing the angels." She said looking at the young demon, as her gaze drifted towards the ground. "I-I shouldn't of even mentioned what I said today." She said a solemn look on her face.

"You have nothing to apologize for." She said, looking at Charlie and smiling, "I have only myself to blame." She smiled sadly, and Charlie and the princess of hell a gave her a sympathetic smile. As Charlie left the room, "Charlie?" The Princess stopped and turned around, "When you see him again." She said, "L-Let him know." She stammered, nervously biting her lip her wings limp at her side.

"L-Let him know that I miss him more than anything," She said sadly, and Charlie smiled and nodded. [Y/n] watched as she walked away, and closed the door behind her and turned away. Leaning her back against the door, she sank to the ground and brought her knees to her chest and cried. "I really am pathetic," She sniffled, once again wallowing in self-pity.

"E-Even, if I were to go and visit would he even wanna see me?" She mumbled, maybe she should. She didn't expect anything from it but, maybe it would fill the hole in her immortal heart. The thought of seeing him again brought a smile to her face, she really did love him with every fiber of her being. She envied Lilith and was jealous of her not in a hateful or spiteful way.

She just..[Y/n] sighed, wiping away her tears. Standing to her feet and dusting herself off, taking a deep breath in and exhaling. As she placed her hand on the doorknob, sighed, leaving her office and making her way towards the courthouse.

If only she knew how much he truly did miss her, as on his desk. Sat a rubber duck that shared the same angelic features as her, wings and all. If only she knew how is heart would ache, as he would glance at it.

if only she knew

how much she truly means to him

a/n: ngl..i kinda wanna maybe make her charlie's stepmom.. i mean she still loves lilth of course but.. i mean.. like.. come on.. i should..

[shizunitis]

Ghostfire Shen Yuan loyally following the lonely, undying, forgotten Luo Binghe from the original outline.

They never even met.

Shen Yuan had died long before Luo Binghe’s story was set to start. Abandoned by his System, he was left wandering the realms, searching for anything to latch onto, anything to stave off the darkness encroaching on his consciousness whenever he stopped. He keeps himself entertained with little jokes and references that will never reach anyone. At least back home, there were other people on the opposite side of his screen reacting, seeing. Paying attention.

He never would have thought he’d miss the times he was perceived by others. He’d give anything, though. Anything.

He stumbles upon the protagonist as he’s ascending the stairs of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect for the first time. Dressed in rags and heaving with the effort, Luo Binghe is exactly as Shen Yuan had pictured: a little bun, soft and kind and so very brave.

The excitement wears off soon enough. When the tea ceremony is held, Shen Yuan watches, hopelessly trying to stop the cup from hitting Binghe’s head. He lunges at Shen Jiu; let him be identified and exorcised, at least he would have done something with himself, however useless. It doesn’t work. Of course not—nothing can come between Luo Binghe and his fate.

Shen Yuan thinks about leaving. Many times. But every time he considers the possibility of going back to wandering the world, or just passing on… Well. There’s still a lot to see, isn’t there? It will get better. It will.

Only, it doesn’t. Not really.

There’s no harem; there’s no warm comfort offered to Luo Binghe by a sympathetic beauty, no wedding celebrations, no moments of gentle companionship, however brief, however superficial. There’s no camaraderie with his demon underlings, his generals, his allies; it’s all casual cruelty and dismissals, before it’s violence and subjugation.

There’s no joy. There’s no hope. There’s no ‘better’.

Something is wrong, that’s clear. Something is wrong, and Shen Yuan has no one to blame.

This is not the Proud Immortal Demon Way he knows.

Centuries later, when Luo Binghe begs for the heavens to allow him to die, Shen Yuan hears. When Luo Binghe rages against the passage of time, alone in the wreckage of his palace, left behind by everyone he’d ever known, Shen Yuan accompanies him. When Luo Binghe lies down in the Holy Mausoleum and refuses to get up, Shen Yuan waits, as he had for centuries, until Luo Binghe opens his eyes again and takes to the road.

They end up in a hidden realm so filled with Yin energy that Shen Yuan can channel it to manipulate his form into that of his former body. It’s not detectable by the living, but it’s there. He feels stronger, too. He can walk, float, fly, interact with what few other ghosts they encounter.

Still, Luo Binghe cannot see him.

Luo Binghe doesn’t talk much. Well, that makes sense, he was never in the habit of talking to himself, but still. It’s lonely.

They end up in a town where a diviner takes one look at Luo Binghe and offers him a free reading. Shen Yuan can’t enter her tent, well-warded against foreign entities as it is, so he waits outside.

She tells Luo Binghe of the little hanger-on he’s got. A powerful one, too, though he’s still getting used to his powers. He’s been here for a long time, she says. Since he was a child. He comes from far away—farther than even the most distant star.

Luo Binghe begins talking to him. Shen Yuan isn’t sure why, but he’s not complaining!

Luo Binghe also begins meditating again, trying to soothe the damage done by Xin Mo over the centuries. For every meal, he places a few fruits or snacks across from him on a plate he’d made himself, which he eats only after finishing his own dish. He makes space by his side whenever he walks on a narrow road. He stops at every landmark and tells stories about them, always starting the same way.

“Do you remember when…” becomes Shen Yuan’s favourite phrase.

One night, Luo Binghe sighs and looks across the table. Shen Yuan places himself so that he’s in Luo Binghe’s focus.

“What is it, Binghe?”

Luo Binghe doesn’t answer him, of course. Still, it feels like a conversation, when he says:

“I wish I knew your name.”

Shen Yuan frets. He’s been trying to manipulate the physical world, but he never got the hang of it. He’d tried drawing in sand, with water, just pushing things off shelves. And yet, nothing.

“I’m sorry, I wish—” he tries, but Luo Binghe is already talking again.

“I wonder if we ever crossed paths when you were alive.” He’s expressed this thought more than once. Shen Yuan never likes to think about how they’ve missed each other, how they’d been set up for failure from the start. “I wonder if we would have been friends.”

Shen Yuan scoffs. Of course not. Him and the protagonist? No way.

But—those cold star eyes, blindly searching for him, trying to land on him… They make him want to say, I would have liked that.

He reaches a hand out to touch Luo Binghe’s forehead. He’s taken to doing it whenever Luo Binghe broods, or makes a silly joke Shen Yuan wishes he didn’t find funny. It’s soothing.

He wishes Binghe could feel it.

When his finger touches the demon mark, it blazes. Luo Binghe gasps, that heavy gaze settling on Shen Yuan’s face.

Shen Yuan startles, and jumps away.

“No! Wait!”

Shen Yuan hesitates. Luo Binghe is looking around himself, eyes begging for even a wisp of Shen Yuan’s shadow.

He can’t deny Luo Binghe this.

He can’t deny himself this.

He reaches out again. This time, he cups Luo Binghe’s cheeks. When those eyes clear of panic and widen in awe, he whispers, softly, “Shen Yuan. My name is Shen Yuan.”

Luo Binghe looks like he’s been handed a treasure so precious he’s afraid to touch it. He hesitates, raising his hands in careful starts and stops, before taking Shen Yuan’s face in them, gently caressing the soft, cold skin of his face. His eyes dance with the haste he takes in memorising Shen Yuan’s features.

Then, he smiles. Helpless and weak and so, so precious. Shen Yuan has not seen hope so bright in Luo Binghe’s face since that fateful day on Cang Qiong Mountain.

“Hello, Shen Yuan.”

[redeemingvillains]

cold comfort - mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo has one rule: any girl can share his bed (and there's been plenty) but none can stay the night. when the unexpected happens, and you're begging to be the first, you find out why he had the rule in the first place.

word count: 4k

soundtrack: between the sheets - imogen heap

a/n: wait this is kind of a saga! it just kept flowing and flowing, but i'm obsessed with it! hope you enjoy!! ♡♡

When Mattheo heard that a first year in Charms cast a spell that backfired so badly it rendered Hogwarts unable to regulate the temperature in the castle, he'd nearly spit out his firewhiskey. The mental image of Flitwick, McGonagall and all of his other professors frantically trying to fix it to no avail gave him sick pleasure as he thought about all the times they'd looked down on him because of his last name. Fuck 'em he thought. Serves them right.

He'd enjoyed his twisted happiness for several days until an unexpected early spring snowstorm rolled off the mountains, leaving the castle a veritable chamber of cold. For two days now it had nearly been cold enough for him to see the white puff of his breath inside. As others scrambled for a place in front of the fireplaces, his mood darkened, making him even more sullen than usual as talk of canceling classes and sending everyone home began to circulate; home wasn't really a place he was looking to go back to.

So now he was sat in the Great Hall in a large sweatshirt with his hood drawn up around his face, the standard dress code long since forgotten, one hand wound tightly around his second cup of black tea in an effort to warm himself while the other rubbed his tired face as he listened to the incessant chatter of his friends.

He was quietly zoned out until he caught a glimpse of you walking through the large entryway. Everyone in the castle looked in disarray: mismatched sweaters, hats and gloves in haphazard layers to stay warm, but not you, you looked like a perfect snowbunny. You were wearing tight black leggings, fur-lined boots, a thick sweater and a headband to keep your ears warm that complimented your hair. Anyone looking closely enough would see the imperceptible tug of his lips into what could almost be called a smile as you made your way to the Slytherin table and slid onto the bench next to him.

It wasn't lost on him that his best friend was beautiful. He was well and painfully aware of the fact and had been for as long as he'd known you. But, despite the thoughts that ran rampant through his mind at the sight of you, he was determined to keep you at an arm's length. Simply put, you were too good for him, too pure. You had a smile that radiated a warmth that he could feel even now, you were caring and compassionate, smart and sweet, quick with a hug and a kind word. You were everything that he wasn't. He told himself, constantly, on repeat, that it was better to have you in his life at all than to fuck it up trying for anything more.

He subtly traced your face through the corner of his eye: your long lashes, the curve of your smile, and your warm, rosy cheeks, and just like no one but you could see his smile, no one but him noticed the tiredness in your eyes. He nudged his shoulder into yours.

"Alright?" he mumbled.

You glanced up at him, his groggy morning voice and the way his curls stuck out from his hood making you feel like you'd swallowed a pixie. You felt yourself flush, your exhaustion wearing down the mask you normally kept up around him, determined to never let him know how you really felt.

"Just tired s'all" you smiled kindly, nudging him back, coaxing what could almost be another smile out of him as you met each other's eyes. "I can't sleep for shit. No matter what I do, I can't get warm, even under a pile of blankets, in my fuzziest pajamas and a jumper" you shivered.

"Skin to skin is really the only solution" Pansy chimed in with a smirk as she sank further into Draco's arms and you rolled your eyes at the two of them. She had snuck out of your room the last few nights, leaving you not only cold, but alone too.

"Couldn't agree more" Theo said, smirking, before lifting an eyebrow at you "ready, able and at your service, babe" he said, opening his arms to you as you swatted him away, laughing at his attempt to flirt with you. He smiled widely and laughed back before glancing over your shoulder at Mattheo whose eyes were narrowed in his direction.

"What, mate, it's not like you're any help, what with your strict 'no sleepover policy'" Theo chirped at him, referring to the fact that regardless of how many girls came in and out of Mattheo's bed, (which was a sizable number) not one had ever stayed the night, always kicked out in the end, despite the fact that they hoped to be the one to break his streak.

You turned to see Mattheo shooting daggers at Theo.

"S'my bed" he muttered, "more than happy to have someone in it for awhile, but a lad's got to get his rest, yeah?" he laughed and the guys laughed back.

You faked a bitter smile, returning your attention to your breakfast in front of you. You weren't naive but that didn't mean you had to sit here and listen to this, you nibbled a piece of dry toast, the mental image of Mattheo with other girls making you nauseous.

Mattheo's smile fell from his face as he watched your reaction, and wished for the thousandth time that he could tell you that he made that rule because of you. Because if he couldn't have you, then he wasn't going to waste time getting closer than necessary with anyone else; the nights he spent alone his bed his punishment for who he was, the fact that he'd never be good enough for you.

You stood abruptly and shot him a small smile as you moved to leave. He said your name quietly and reached for your hand, but you were gone before you realized it.

That night you crawled into cold sheets that felt almost damp with a chill. Despite the pile of blankets and your thick pajamas, you couldn't get warm or comfortable, tossing and turning as small shivers ran through your body and Pansy's words echoed in your head. You were desperate for warmth at this point, desperate for a good night's sleep, but there was only one bed you wanted to crawl into, and it was with the only person who refused to share it.

Surely he would break his rule for you, for his best friend? you thought; things were different between you two. But were you willing to try, to embarrass yourself if he said no? You rolled around for another hour before climbing out of bed.

Mattheo was in a fitful sleep, which was not unusual for him; his nights were frequented by nightmares, leaving him constantly groggy and grumpy, but when he heard your voice, he was sure he was dreaming, a good dream, a great dream at that.

"Mattheo" you were whispering.

He turned to see you standing at the other side of his bed and was incredibly confused, until you moved to get in... and then he panicked. He panicked because he had thoughtfully planned every way to avoid this exact situation from the moment he met you, knowing that at this proximity he wouldn't be able to control himself. And he was right. You were close, too close. He could smell your shampoo, like warm vanilla, and his hands moved on autopilot towards you, his fingers twitching to bring you closer to him before he stopped himself, inches short.

"Whatareyoudoing?!" he whisper-mumbled in frustration, the words coming out angrier than he'd intended at the range of emotions he was feeling.

You froze, your heart shattering. He was angry. He didn't want you here, he didn't want anyone here. He was going to kick you out and you'd be mortified, your friendship would never be the same, you'd taken things too far. You felt a scratch in your throat as tears threatened to spring forward.

Even in the thick darkness, Mattheo could see that he'd upset you, able to read your expressions better than his own. He could see the wobble of your bottom lip as your wide eyes looked at him and he hated himself and the situation all the more for it.

"Please Matty, m'just so cold, I can't sleep" you whispered, using the nickname that was strictly forbidden for anyone but you that made him melt.

He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply, trying in his sleepy state to figure out a solution as he felt his strength waning; the figment of his every daydream was literally begging to be in his bed and he was certain he couldn't trust himself, certain that this only ended one way.

You took in his rigid form and his frustration and began to backpedal, moving to leave.

"M'sorry, it's okay, I'll go, maybe Theo—"

And you didn't even get a chance to finish your thought before you felt his large, warm hands wrap around your middle and tug you across the bed and into his chest, quickly but gently.

"C'mere" he mumbled as he settled you against him, chest to chest, your head tucked under his.

Your arms wound around him naturally, your legs intertwining, the two of you fitting together effortlessly, perfectly, like puzzle pieces. You let out a small giggle as you nuzzled into him, making yourself comfortable.

He could feel your warm breath as you let out a contented sigh, the innocent sound somehow sinful to his ears as he willed his mind to stop wandering in every direction it wanted to as he felt every dip and curve of your body against his own despite the layers of clothing between you. He kept his hands at your back, unmoving, for a moment unsure if he was even doing this right, unable to remember the last time he'd cuddled with anyone.

"Thank you" you whispered, your voice already sounding relaxed and sleepy to him as your fingers traced patterns on his back, a lavish feeling that released every ounce of tension he had been holding.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as his arms hugged you to him firmly and you felt a sensation like melted honey spreading through every inch of you, as he rubbed your back, warming you from your heart to the tips of your toes for the first time in days as you fell into a hazy sleep.

The first thought Mattheo had was that he felt heavy, his limbs felt weighted and his mind felt calm. Rested he realized after a moment. His brain was slowly turning back on, piecing together the dream he'd had, it was a dream, right? You, in his bed, in his arms, pressed against him, nuzzling into him, contented and happy. It felt so real, real enough that he could still smell you, the intoxicating scent of your shampoo, could still feel you in his arms, could still ghost his fingers down your back. You hummed in response and his eyes fluttered open only to realize it was definitely not a dream.

You were here, with him, in his bed, had been all night, your body still wound perfectly in his, neither of you having let go of one another or moved an inch; if anything, it was like you melded together even further. Fuck this is nice he thought as he looked down at you curled into his chest. This was everything, everything he'd hoped it would be. He wanted to stay like this for as long as physically possible, the looming fear of it having to come to an end already upon him.

Suddenly, a pillow came flying onto the bed, askewing the thick curtains that draped around his four-poster.

"Oi wake up, will you, Riddle? Shit, it's almost noon and we've got practice in an hour" came a shout as a cacophony of voices followed behind it into the room.

You stirred in Mattheo's arms just as a hand reached through his curtains to pull them aside.

"Oh. My. Fucking. Days" Blaise drawled, annunciating every word as the others gathered around him.

"I knew it, I fucking knew it"

"Let's gooooooo!!"

"Mattttyyyy!!!" each of them shouted as the jumped up and down in excitement at the sight of you in his bed.

"Fuck off" he said, grasping the pillow they'd thrown at him and hucking it back at them, causing them to disperse as they fell apart with laughter and more cheers.

He felt you shift next to him and looked back to see that you had pulled the covers over your head, just the tips of your fingers and the top of your head visible. He yanked his curtain closed before leaning back towards you and gently grasping the blanket near your hands to pull it back.

While not the wakeup you had hoped for nor expected, Mattheo pulling back the blankets with a soft sleep-ridden smile on his face and his rumpled curls to see you was a mental image that you were sure you would think about every day for the rest of your life. You were swimming in a sea of him, engulfed in his smell, like pine and amber, and you were delightfully warm; he was going to have to pry you out of here.

"Hi" he said quietly in his morning voice.

"Hi" you whispered back.

You looked perfect. He may have thought about waking up to you, with significantly less clothing on and significantly fewer onlookers, but he'd never considered how beautiful you would look, your eyes not all the way open yet, your hair spread like a blanket of its own and fuck if he didn't want to kiss you. His eyes drifted lazily to your lips and back again and he swore he saw a flash of something in your expression in response, curiosity, or perhaps confusion.

"I should—" he started, shaking his head clear.

"—Yeah, of course! Sorry, I didn't realize the time—"

"No problem, take your time—" he said as he rolled out of bed to more cheers and shouts as he shepherded his friends out the door to give you some privacy.

You pulled the sheets back over your heard, burying yourself further into his blankets, reveling in the warmth his body had left before squealing with excitement at the way your day had started.

You were afraid that things would be awkward, but surprisingly they weren't, you were in your easy, unbothered rhythm together. Besides the giggles and teasing from your friends, nothing had changed... including the temperature. As the day went on the warmth you had woken up in faded and you felt progressively more cold settling into your bones, already dreading the cold night ahead of you.

Spending the night with Mattheo was a nice reprieve, but not something you intended to make a habit of, certain you didn't want to live through more teasing nor get your hopes up trying to read into how intimate it had felt.

You were leaving dinner, arms wound around yourself at the chill in the air when you heard a voice calling for you. You turned to see Mattheo jogging after you.

"Hey!" he called.

"Hey" you smiled back, glancing up at him as he fell into step with you.

He smiled readily back at you; he'd seemed peppier today, letting the ceaseless taunting roll of his back with a shrug of his shoulders, the unwillingness to turn everything into an argument or fistfight very uncharacteristic of him.

"Yeah, so—" he started to say, as he looked around for a moment and carded his hand through his hair. He took in how cold you looked and all he could think was how badly he wanted to fix it. "—About last night or whatever...I know it's still fucking frigid, if you wanted to come by or sleep with, er, stay with — in my — yeah, you could do it again if you wanted?"

You couldn't hide the smile the spread widely across your face, nor the way your eyes sparkled mischievously as you stopped walking to face him.

"Mattheo Riddle, are you asking me to sleep with you?" you said flirtatiously, leaning towards him.

He stopped breathing. Your proximity and the words coming out of your mouth snatched every last breath and every last thought he'd had.

"Don't fuck around with me" he said through smirked lips, his voice low and measured, holding a hint of playfulness, but also a warning.

You laughed softly back but didn't back down.

"I'll see you tonight" you said as you continued your path back to the common room, leaving him gazing after you.

Your new outfit that night wasn't lost on him. You were wearing a form-fitting pair of soft pants and a matching top that hung slightly off your shoulder, revealing the lace of a bralette. You crawled into bed beside him, smiling contentedly and curling into his arms like you were married, like this was the most normal, easy, simple thing in the world, and yet it still took him a minute to really comprehend the situation, to relax.

He barely had a minute to catch his breath before Blaise shouted across the room, "Goodnight Theo!"

"Night, Blaise!" Theo shouted back.

"Night, Enz!" Blaise said again.

"G'night!" Enzo replied.

Mattheo rubbed a hand over his face at the antic.

"I swear they don't do this every—" he started.

"—Night, Draco!" Blaise shouted.

"And Pans!" Theo chimed in.

"Full fuckin' house in here" Enzo said.

"Goodnight!" she giggled back.

"Goodnight Mattheo..." Blaise said slowly, drawling out his name.

Mattheo didn't reply.

"GOODNIGHT YN" they each shouted.

You laughed, "Goodnight!" you said back and they cheered as Mattheo turned and buried his head into your shoulder in embarrassment, letting his body weight fall on you in exasperation.

You laughed at his reaction, instinctively bringing a hand to tangle in his curls and hold him to you before you could stop yourself. It was decidedly more intimate than anything that had happened between you before, but it had just felt right, something about pulling him into you, comforting him. You paused after a moment, catching yourself... running your hands through his hair should not make you feel this way; suddenly, you were very very warm.

As if he could sense your reaction, he lifted his head just slightly to meet your eyes, his face inches from yours.

He had to feel your heart hammering in your chest at this proximity, right? As he searched your face, it felt like a veil had come down between the two of you after a night spent together on top of years spent dancing around one another like you didn't know exactly what this could be. On cue, the room around you fell deeply silent as the others settled into sleep.

Your hand slowly dropped to trace his cheek.

"YN" he said in a low voice, cautious, guarded, his tone roughly translating to "Don't".

"What?" you whispered.

"I can't" he said.

"Can't what, Matty?"

The nickname made his heart beat double-time, an impossible feat based on the way it was already drumming loudly in his ears.

"You know what" he said sternly.

"Why?" you asked, innocently, the tips of your fingers moving to trace his jaw, nearing his lips before his hand grasped yours firmly, stopping you, making you jump slightly.

His body was rigid and taught, his expression was serious, maybe even threatening to anyone but you, but all you could see was the look in his eyes that were burning with something else, something much more passionate than anger.

His words were strained, like it was a physical effort to form them.

"I. Can't. Alright? Just let it go" he said as his eyes continued to beg otherwise.

Your next words were so soft, he almost didn't hear them, might have missed them if his entire being wasn't fine tuned to hear the exact phrase.

"Kiss me" you said, somewhere between a plea and a demand.

He caught your eye and his breath caught in his throat at the way you were looking at him: your eyes wide, soft and focused on him, your chest visibly rising and falling underneath him, your body pressing against him as you wiggled your hand out of his grasp to trace his cheek. Surely he couldn't have heard you right?

"I'm not—I can't— that's not a good idea. I can't just kiss you" he said, stumbling over his words uncharacteristically.

"Why?" you asked quietly, sadly.

"No—not—fuck—" he started and stopped, trying not to upset you again.

He paused, trying to collect himself.

"Why do you think no other girl has slept in this bed?" he said seriously.

You pulled your hand back at the mention of other girls at a moment like this, but he responded by reaching to cup your cheek, to force you to look at him.

You were shaking your head.

"Because if I couldn't have you, then I didn't want anyone else. You're fucking it for me, always have been, but girls like you don't end up with guys like me and it's best I don't waste your fucking time and ruin our friendship in the process, alright?" he said resolutely, with finality.

"Matty—" you started

"—Please stop calling me that, please" he said, slamming his eyes closed, "I'm trying to maintain a semblance of self control here."

"Stop holding back!" you whisper-yelled, which caught his attention, causing his eyes to flutter open. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I want you. I've always wanted you, ask any of our thickheaded friends, they've all known for a long time."

He blinked slowly like each individual word had to register in his head. You could see him swallow, could see the sentence process in his brain as the pad of his thumb traced your cheek and you leaned into him, pressing further against him.

"Kiss me, Matty" you said.

And the last thread of his self control snapped. He leaned in, hovering close enough that you could feel the faintest touch of his lips as they ghosted against yours, teasing you.

"If I kiss you, that's it then, you're mine" he said, like it was a threat, an ultimatum, and not the best thing that's ever happened to you.

A smile spread across your lips and you nodded against his.

"All yours" you whispered back and he caught the last of your words with his mouth, his lips taking yours as both of his hands came to grasp your face firmly but gently, pulling you into him.

You could barely suppress the hum of pleasure that left you at the sensation, the relief of the feeling of his lips pillowed against yours, the tenderness and softness so opposite of everything that he was, the duality of it all had your body tingling. One of your hands grasped at his sweatshirt while the other wound around his neck, attempting to pull him impossibly closer to you as he moaned into your mouth. His tongue tangled with yours and you swore there wasn't anything in the world but this moment, this feeling with him as you tasted the lingering flavor of cigarettes and peppermint that you would come to associate with him.

It was all grabbing, desperate hands and crashed lips at first, trying in moments to catch up on years of wanting, until it was tantalizingly slow, languid, purely achingly perfect and intimate. You were certain you would kiss him like this every single day, given the chance.

It could have been minutes or hours that you were lost in each other before he pulled back, and the whine that left your lips at the loss of contact nearly had him throwing you over his shoulder and marching you to the first broom closet he could find.

"I've spent just about every day for the last 5 years thinking about this, and I cannot believe I'm about to fuckin' say this, but I'm not gonna rush it. At the very least, I'm not gonna hook up with you in a room full of people" he said, before tilting his head, "Well, at least not the first time... after that, no promises."

You laughed quietly and swatted at his shoulder.

"C'mere" he said, pulling you into him.

You curled into his arms, head nuzzling into his neck, your head resting on his chest as he held you tightly, brushing soft kisses to your temple as you fell asleep.

E P I L O G U E

You had been so caught up in the events of the evening, you hadn't really stopped to consider what happens next, namely, how would you tell your friends? Just make an announcement at breakfast? Put on enough PDA that they drew their own conclusion? Take off the scarf you were wearing that was covering the innumerable hickies on your neck? Your mind was in a heady fog about it all as the group of you wandered towards the Great Hall.

You were glued to Mattheo's side, but that wasn't really unusual; his fingers brushed against your own as he shot you a look out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous smile on his face.

"YN!" a voice shouted behind you.

You turned to see Cedric Diggory jogging towards you and you slowed your pace, as did everyone around you. Boys had to be either brave, stupid or naive to approach you when you were with your guy friends, and you weren't sure which category to put Cedric in as his eyes met their unwelcome stares but addressed you anyway.

"Sorry— yeah, I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to—" he started.

Oh no you thought.

"—Cedric, really, that's so kind—" you interrupted, trying to prevent a scene from breaking out as you felt Mattheo tense beside you.

"—You didn't even hear what I was going to say?" he said with a laugh, somewhere between offended, annoyed and amused.

"Well, think that makes the message pretty clear then, mate" Mattheo said, the anger palpable in his tone.

"Excuse me?" Cedric replied. "I was talking to—"

Oh no you thought again.

And you weren't quick enough to intervene before Mattheo had Cedric pinned against the stone wall of the hallway, his forearm at Cedric's chest, nearly lifting him off the ground as his feet dangled for purchase.

"I don't fucking care who you were talking to. From now on, you don't talk to her at all, alright?"

"What are you, her bodyguard?" Cedric sputtered as he gasped for breath.

"No" ... a pause... "I'm her boyfriend" Mattheo growled.

You tried and failed to hide the huge smile on your face behind your manicured fingers as your friends shouted behind you.

Well, that's one way to do it you thought. ♡