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pathologicalreid · 2 days ago

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spring into summer | s.r.

in which Spencer pursues a relationship with you. you try to resist every advance - for your own protection.

[previously]

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angsty content warnings: blowing smoke part tew, at a bar but it's not specified whether or not reader drinks alcohol, kissing, if you have a problem with my bar music keep it to yourself, maeve as a plot device, love confessions, not edited word count: 2.25k a/n: y'all i wasn't gonna do this, but listening to this song... yeah i had to.

“Spencer’s here!” Penelope exclaimed from her bar stool, her heels clicking on her way to the front of the bar, hoping to lead Spencer through the crowd to where the team had decided to set up shop.

Your head snapped up in alarm, tilting your head to the side and trying to get JJ’s attention, “I didn’t think Spencer was coming out tonight.”

She frowned slightly, placing her glass on the bar and shrugging, “It was an open invite.”

An open invite that you extended to the guy you’re seeing. You huffed, pulling the strap of your dress back over your shoulder and flagging down the bartender, hoping to get a drink before you need to play defense against Spencer.

“Hey,” Ethan said from behind you, a cute guy from counterterrorism that Penelope had introduced you to. His hand sat comfortably on your waist as you got the bartender’s attention again, letting him know that you’d actually need two drinks.

You smiled back at him, panicking slightly when he leaned in to kiss you. Evading his kiss, you let his lips land on your cheek, turning your head so that you were facing Spencer.

The two of you had as little contact as you could manage in the past two months, ever since Spencer’s attempt to ask you out had gone completely awry. Of course, ceasing all contact was unavoidable, between work and Spencer’s continued pursuance, you continuously found yourself under his net.

Ethan squeezed your waist gently, taking the glass that the bartender had placed in front of him and grabbing a straw for yours. You thanked him, crushing the straw wrapper against the bar and taking a sip.

Admittedly, you weren’t interested in the guy in the slightest. The second time you went out together, he’d gotten your name wrong, but he was friends with Penelope’s crush, so you were trying to be a good sport.

It felt like the world was playing a cruel joke on you, pairing you with someone who couldn’t be bothered to remember your name while you were trying to shut out a guy who remembered your favorite flower from a conversation three years ago. Yesterday, you’d found a bouquet on your desk for the third Thursday in a row.

Every time you read the card that he sends with the arrangement, you almost forget yourself. It would be a waste for you to get rid of them, which is the only reason you’ve kept them on your desk.

Or so you keep telling yourself.

“You look nice,” Spencer whispered to you, reaching between you and JJ so he could grab his drink from the bar. He looked good, you noticed him against your better judgment, even the embroidery on his tie managed to catch your attention.

Before you could collect yourself enough to respond to him, Morgan had already pulled him back to a booth, putting an arm around his shoulders and pointing out different girls in the bar while Savannah rolled her eyes. His hair was growing out from the undercut that he’d debuted in the fall, falling in front of his eyes until he inevitably flicked the stray hairs away.

Peeling your eyes off of him, you looked back at Ethan, who’d already made his way through half his drink. His eyes were glued to the baseball game being displayed above the bar. If your date had noticed you ogling your coworker, he didn’t show it.

Tentatively, you tapped his stool gently with your toe, “Hey,” you tried to get his attention, batting your eyelashes. “Do you wanna go over to the jukebox with me? We can pick a song together,” you offered.

He frowned and shook his head, “Nah, the Nationals game is on.�� He nodded his head up to the TV, refraining from sparing you a glance.

You looked up at the screen, they were at the bottom of the second inning, and you were in for an exhausting night. “Right,” you said flatly, “I’ll be right back.”

Sharing a look with Penelope, who shot you a supportive thumbs up from the other side of the bar, you got off your stool and adjusted your purse over your shoulder. You liked that this bar still had a real jukebox, as opposed to the updated touchscreens commonly found in bars nowadays. You dug through your purse for a quarter, half paying attention to your rummaging and using the rest of your brain power to study the available songs.

A few things caught your eye, most of the available tracks were classics—Journey, Queen, and a Meatloaf track that was suspiciously out of order. Probably because the song was over eight minutes long. “Here,” the familiar voice—that you’d been trying to avoid—spoke.

Spencer held a quarter out for you, leaving the coin displayed in his palm until you graciously accepted it. “Thanks,” you said, “Do you have any suggestions?” You expertly dodged his attempt at eye contact, sliding the quarter into its slot and reading through the titles again. Pressing your lips in a thin line while you ignored the way he was leaning over the jukebox.

“Why did you ask him to come out?” He asked, pointing at one of the songs and chuckling when you shook your head. He should’ve known better than to actually make a request. After all, you were just being polite.

You squinted at a title, worn with time, and you distracted yourself with the task of reading it. “I didn’t know you were coming with us,” you muttered, refusing to let your curiosity get the better of you and resisting the urge to just select the worn button. “You don’t usually like this bar,” you reminded him. You couldn’t remember the last time Spencer went out to a bar that wasn’t O’Keefe’s.

He hummed next to you, standing so close that you could feel his body heat intermingling with your own. “So,” he started, “You wouldn’t have asked him to go out if you had known I was going to be here.”

“I didn’t say that,” you told him, your eyes flickering to the side. Not enough to see his face, but enough to notice that he’d taken off his suit jacket, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

“You might as well have,” he returned, watching as you finally chose a Fleetwood Mac song, concluding that you’d either have to choose a song you didn’t want or waste Spencer’s quarter.

You peeked around him, your date still preoccupied with the sporting event. Even so, you tried to make your way around Spencer, but he grabbed your elbow and held you back.

There was nothing forceful in his action. If you wanted to snatch your arm away and stalk away from him, he wasn’t going to stop you, but you found yourself interested in staying with him. It would be worth your while to stay with someone who was begging for your attention rather than return to the bar to beg for someone else’s.

Spencer looked around, mindful of the members of your team who were still in earshot while he led you away from the crowds. He tucked you away, resting your back against a shiplap wall in a corner, perfectly concealed from curious profilers. “I want to talk to you,” he whispered, leaning against the wall.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest in preemptive defense, making sure he stayed at least a foot away from you. “I’ve said everything there is to say to you,” you made no effort to avert his gaze, no attempt to duck away from the conversation.

“I haven’t,” he responded immediately, his voice steady despite the noticeable pounding of his carotid. It was almost as if he’d practiced this speech before, going through every permutation of the conversation in his mirror before meeting you out.

Raising your eyebrows, you looked up at him; the sun was setting, the orange light reflecting in his brown irises while he studied you like it was the last time he’d ever see you. “Spence,” you breathed, waiting expectantly for him to continue.

“You never actively pursued me, how was I meant to know you were interested?” His question made you want to scoff, but the earnest look in his eyes gave you pause. “Admittedly, social cues aren’t my strong suit, and I know you know that.”

Your shoulders relaxed, “So, because I never actively pursued you, it’s my fault that we never ended up together? Was I supposed to declare my intentions to you?”

He shook his head, sending strands of wavy brown hair tumbling in front of his forehead. In another life, you would’ve reached out to fix his hair. “No, I’m saying that while you never actively pursued me, I am actively pursuing you. I just want to make sure you know what page I’m on,” he told you, nervously picking at his nails.

“Spencer,” you sighed his name, “I already told you I couldn’t do it.” You’d cried it to him, actually. You expected this conversation to be more of the same, pleading with Spencer to understand your perspective on the situation while he relentlessly begged you to reconsider.

Reaching out, he touched your arm gently, nothing more than a graze of his fingertips across your bare skin, “And I want to prove to you that we can do this. I can be the guy that you want.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to push yourself further into the wall until you phased right through it, “I can’t take the back and forth.” You needed something stable, but what you needed would never be reflective of what you wanted. The most brutal truth of all was that you still wanted Spencer. You considered him your first love, and no one ever gets over their first love.

Just like he’d never get over his.

“There are just too many years between us, Spencer. It’s too complicated,” you told him, trying to keep your breathing steady. It would be exhausting to explain your tearful look to the rest of the team.

He waved your reasoning away, “It’s not. It’s not complicated. I love you and you love me. So, why can’t we be together?”

Your lips parted, staring up at him with wide eyes as your brain frantically tried to catch up with the situation at hand. Each beat of your heart was like a repetition of the word—love, love, love.

Spencer took your silence for rejection, “Maybe it’s just me then.”

“It’s not,” you croaked, fear and love and sorrow causing your throat to strangle your words. You looked up at him and wondered how long he’d been sitting on that confession. You wondered how long he’d known you loved him. You wondered if he still dreamed about Maeve. For whatever reason, that’s the only curiosity that you voiced, “Do you still dream about her?”

“I only dream about you these days,” he answered, his voice soft in the cacophony of the bar, keeping the conversation private despite your public stage.

“You can’t mean that,” you murmured, your face warming in response to his confession.

Your response only seemed to encourage him further, leaning his head down to allow himself contact. He pressed his lips to yours gently, and you found yourself leaning into him more than you’d like, each movement of his lips reminiscent of a chisel against the wall that you had constructed between the two of you.

Reaching your arms up, you propped one over his shoulder and used your free hand to weave your fingers in his hair—just as silky as you had always imagined it would be. His lips were soft against yours, and you knew you were fighting a battle that you could never win. You’d always run back to him.

Even when you pried yourself away from him, there wasn’t an ounce of regret in your bloodstream, but there was an outpour of sorrow. “Spence,” you breathed, blinking tears from your eyes while he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” he responded, “I shouldn’t have done that.” His tone didn’t reflect his words in the slightest, there was no remorse in his eyes when you met them for the first time in a new light.

You shook your head instantly, “It’s okay.” You understood why he had done it. Telling you he loved you. Kissing you. He hadn’t done either of those things with Maeve. Spencer was trying to make a statement with you; he wanted his actions to speak louder than words.

He frowned, “You’re crying. I’m so sorry.”

Your lips parted to respond, but you hesitated for a moment. Curiosity was rapping at your door, wanting to know if the last person he had kissed was Diane. “I’m not crying because I didn’t want you to kiss me,” you admitted, hoping that your candor would serve to bring him some comfort.

“Oh,” he breathed, “Oh.”

You nodded, confirming his suspicions, “But I meant it when I told you I can’t do this. I just… not right now.” You needed time to come to terms with the fact that the love you never expected was right around the corner, and you needed time so that Maeve wasn’t the first person you thought over after kissing him.

“Okay,” he said, taking a small step away from you, “But you… you’ll let me know?”

Your head bobbed, “I’ll let you know.”

"I love you and I always will and I am sorry. What a useless word." - Ernest Hemingway

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot

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v6quewrlds · 3 months ago

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❝ last to know, a. svechnikov. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: it's always nice to hear about the canes' team bonding activities. but when andrei comes home with a november challenge, you know the only solution is to kill seth jarvis.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: yay first svechy fic. hope y'all know that's my baby boy. it's me and google translate against the world <3 this is day one of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, jarvy's an idiot, andrei gets a little grumpy, google translated russian, andrei calls reader kisa (kitten), moya lyubov (my love), and malishka (baby), bratty!reader, dom!svech at the end, choking, oral (fem receiving), fingering, squirting.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: andrei svechnikov x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 5.3k.

The evening air was cool, hinting at the early arrival of winter. Inside the cozy apartment, the smell of onions and garlic sizzling in olive oil filled the kitchen. You wore a simple pair of black leggings and an oversized t-shirt as you chopped vegetables for the stir-fry. Your hands moved with precision, each chop echoing in the quiet space. Andrei stood towering over the stove, carefully tossing the chicken in the makeshift wok. His muscular arms flexed with the motion, and you couldn’t help but sneak glances at his broad back.

Andrei caught you staring and winked playfully. "What are you looking at, kisa?" he asked in his deep, accented voice. You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance, but a smirk danced on your lips.

"Just making sure you don’t burn our dinner," you quipped, tossing a pepper slice in his direction. He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. The two of you had been living together for six months now, and your playful back-and-forth banter was as much a part of your daily routine as your career obligations.

"You know I'm better in kitchen than on ice," he said, a smug smile playing on his lips.

You scoffed, throwing a handful of sliced mushrooms into the pan with a dramatic flair. "Right, is that why I've had to clean burnt pans more times in the last six months than I have my entire life?"

Andrei shrugged, his smile growing wider. "You know I'm just teasing, moya lyubov." He reached over and pinched your side gently, making you squeal and swat his hand away. The stress of the day had dissipated, replaced by the warmth of your easy banter. The two of you worked in a harmonious dance, you adding the final touches to the meal while Andrei plated your dinner. You sat down at the small kitchen table, the TV playing highlights from the latest Hurricanes game in the background.

As you ate, your conversation turned to the upcoming team events. Andrei mentioned the Thanksgiving gathering at the captain’s place at the end of the month with a hint of excitement in his voice. "You could not go last year but you will love it, kisa. It's going to be so much fun."

You nodded, swirling your fork through the noodles on your plate. "I’m looking forward to it. But some of the girls were talking about a challenge you guys are doing?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Andrei's face grew slightly red as he took a sip of his water, avoiding eye contact.

"Is just something...stupid," he mumbled. "Some of the guys on the team are trying to not...you know."

Your eyes narrowed, your curiosity piqued. "What do you mean, 'not'?"

Andrei sighed, setting down his fork. "They're doing a thing called 'No Nut November'. It's where you...try, um, not to climax for the whole month."

Your mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?" you exclaimed. "Why on earth would you agree to that?"

Andrei shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "Just ispytaniye, you know? The guys talked to me," he said, his English faltering slightly in his bashfulness. "But it is okay. We have fun."

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You knew Andrei had a competitive streak, but this was ridiculous. "So, what, you're just going to ignore me for a whole month for a challenge?" you said, trying to keep the annoyance from your voice.

Andrei looked at you with those puppy dog eyes you had come to love. "Nyet, kisa, it's not like that. We can still...you know, do everything else."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Everything else?" you questioned. "So, you want to be abstinent for a month because of some dumb bet?"

Andrei looked at you sheepishly. "It is not a bet," he clarified. "Team bonding. Like when we go dry January."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. "Yeah, but you hate those challenges," you pointed out. "What's the deal with this one?"

Andrei sighed, his shoulders dropping.

"Honey, tell me who put you up to this," you pressed, your voice filled with a mix of amusement and annoyance.

He took a deep breath before admitting, "Jarvy." Your eyes widened with understanding. You were going to kill Seth Jarvis.

You put down your fork and leaned back in your chair. "Why didn't you tell me it was him? Is he bothering you?" you said, your voice filled with the mock concern of a mother tending to her distressed toddler.

Andrei's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red as he groaned at your tone. "He just was talking, and I thought...I could do it," he said, his voice trailing off.

You studied him for a moment, your expression unreadable. "Alright, fine. You can do your 'No Nut November' thing," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "But you're not getting off that easy."

Andrei looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Your smirk grew more mischievous. "I mean, I'll make sure you really feel like you're participating in this challenge," you said, your voice low and filled with a hint of laughter. Andrei's eyes widened slightly as you pushed your chair back and stood up from the table.

For the next few days, you made it your personal mission to test Andrei's resolve. You wore outfits that you knew would drive him wild, your short shorts and tight tops leaving little to the imagination. You would strut around your apartment, hips swaying with each step, eyes sparkling with amusement at his obvious discomfort. Andrei tried to resist, his eyes darting away whenever you caught him looking, but you could see his jaw clench and his fists tighten.

One evening, after a particularly tiring day of teasing, you lay on the couch with a knowing smirk, your legs crossed and your fingers tracing circles on your bare thigh. Andrei sat in the chair opposite you, his eyes glued to the TV but his mind clearly elsewhere. He cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension that hung in the air like a thick fog.

"Kisa, why do you do this to me?" he murmured, his voice deep with frustration.

Your smirk grew wider as you shrugged. "Just trying to make sure you're really committed to this whole 'challenge,'" you said, emphasizing the last word. You leaned back, your fingers continuing their torturous dance. Andrei's eyes followed the movement, his own eyes darkening with desire.

The tension between the two of you grew palpable. Andrei shifted in his chair, his discomfort clear. "You're being mean, kisa," he said, his voice thick. You sat up, placing your hand on his knee.

"I know, I know," you said, your voice softening with faux understanding. "But think of the prize at the end. You'll have earned it." Andrei groaned, his eyes pleading.

You stood up, your hand sliding over his thigh. "Come on, baby, let's go to bed." You could feel his resistance wavering, and you reveled in the power you held over him.

Andrei's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you thought you had won. But then he leaned back and took a deep breath, his Russian stubbornness shining through. "No, kisa. I finish what I start."

Your smirk faded, replaced with a look of determination. "Fine," you said, your voice a purr. "But I won’t make this easy for you, Andrei."

The next two weeks were a battle of wills. Every move you made was calculated to push Andrei to his breaking point. You would lean over to grab something, giving him a perfect view of your cleavage. You would sit on his lap while you watched movies, your body warm and inviting against his. And each time he'd try to make a move, you would push him away, reminding him of his commitment to the challenge. Andrei's patience grew thinner with every passing day, his eyes darkening with need whenever you were near.

The day of the Thanksgiving gathering finally arrived. Andrei was on edge, his usual stoic, confident demeanor cracking under the pressure of his raging hormones. The two of you arrived at Jordan Staal’s home, the aroma of roasting turkey and sweet potatoes greeting all the guests at the door. You looked stunning in a carefully selected silk dress, your confidence deepening when you saw the other wives and girlfriends' reactions to your attire. You knew Andrei would struggle all night, and you were more than ready to watch him squirm.

As you mingled, the conversation inevitably turned to No Nut November. The other wives and girlfriends laughed at the idea, sharing stories of their partners' failed attempts. Andrei's teammates exchanged knowing glances, and you felt a twinge of annoyance that you were the butt of their private joke. But you held your tongue, smiling sweetly as you listened to their banter.

“You look good, girl.” Gianna, one of the player’s girlfriends, whispered to you with a knowing smile as she passed by with a tray of drinks. The room was filled with the sounds of laughter and the clinking of silverware as everyone stood around in anticipation of the dinner.

“I can’t believe he’s still holding out on you, sweetie. Most of the guys gave up by week two,” one of the wives named Melissa said with a wink.

You couldn’t help but feel a smug sense of pride at the thought of Andrei’s tortured self-control. You took a sip of your wine, watching as he talked with Jordan and his wife, Heather, his eyes occasionally straying to you. You knew he was desperate for release, and you were enjoying every second of his torment.

As the evening progressed, Andrei's touches grew bolder, his hands lingering a little longer on your waist or brushing against your thigh. You would look up at him with a knowing smile, watching him bite back his desire. When you were alone in the kitchen for a brief moment, Andrei leaned down and whispered in your ear, "Kisa, I need you. Let's go home."

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you leaned back into his touch, your voice a seductive murmur. "But the party's just getting started," you teased. "You're not giving up now, are you?"

Andrei's grip tightened on the countertop, his knuckles white. "I can't...not with you looking so sexy," he admitted, his accent thickening with his arousal. Taking a brief moment to take in his surroundings, Andrei bent down to whisper his plea in Russian into your ear, hoping that the language barrier would shield your conversation from prying eyes and ears.

“Da, ya ponimayu, Andrei,” you whispered back your understanding in what little Russian you knew off the top of your head, your voice dripping with sweetness. “But you need to be stronger than this. Think of the victory you’ll feel when you win the challenge.”

You stepped back, placing the platter of food you had been holding onto the counter with a gentle clink, leaving his hand hovering in the air between you. Andrei’s frustration was palpable, but you felt a thrill of power knowing you had him right where you wanted him.

The dinner was a blur of flavors and forced small talk as Andrei’s eyes followed you around the room. You could feel his gaze on you, his need for you almost tangible. You were enjoying your victory, watching him squirm, his self-control hanging by a thread. As the night went on, the tension grew thicker than the gravy on the turkey.

The two of you found yourselves standing at the edge of the living room, the TV playing a football game neither of you was particularly interested in. Seth Jarvis strolled over, a smug grin plastered on his face. "How's it going, buddy?" he asked, slapping Andrei on the back.

Andrei gritted his teeth. "It's...going," he said through clenched teeth.

Jarvy chuckled. "You know, I didn't think you had it in you. We thought you’d tap out by week one." He winked at you, drawing an eye roll out of you. Andrei's jaw tightened, but before he could say anything, Jarvy cut in again. “We actually bet on it. I lost like a hundred bucks, Svechy. You’re a beast, man."

Andrei's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'we'? Who else is not doing this?"

Jarvy's smirk grew wider. "Well, most of us stopped after the first week. We decided to test how long it would take for you to catch on," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Your mouth fell open as you threw your head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the room. Andrei's face went red with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

"You asshole," he groaned, visibly annoyed but trying to hold back his self-deprecating laughter. "Why did you not tell me?"

Jarvy shrugged, his grin unabated. "It's not fun if you know, right?" He clapped Andrei on the shoulder before walking away, leaving the Russian standing in stunned silence.

You couldn't help but continue to laugh, the tension of the past few weeks finally breaking. You stepped closer to Andrei, your eyes gleaming with mirth. "So, you've been suffering for nothing?"

Andrei's eyes searched yours, a mix of relief and annoyance swirling in their depths. "It will be worth it," he murmured, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, and you knew that the challenge had pushed him to his limits.

“Maybe this will be a good thing after all,” you whispered into Andrei’s ear, your voice filled with amusement as you wrapped your arms around his waist. You felt his body relax slightly against you, his grip on you tightening for a brief moment before loosening.

Andrei leaned down and kissed your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Ya budu zhdat’,” he murmured in Russian, his voice thick with need. You giggled, feeling his hard chest against yours.

“You’ll have to wait a little longer, my love,” you said, pulling away with a mischievous smile.

Andrei sighed, his grip on your hips loosening slightly. “You are cruel, kisa,” he said, his eyes still dark with desire. You knew you had won this round, but you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. You pushed yourself off the wall, stalking back to the group of wives and girlfriends.

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter and food. The tension between you and Andrei had dissipated slightly, replaced with a newfound excitement. As the guests began to leave, Andrei’s hand found yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gentle rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. You knew what was coming, and you were more than ready.

As you two said your goodbyes to Heather and Jordan, Andrei's grip tightened, pulling you closer. His eyes were dark with desire, and you felt your body responding, your core heating with anticipation. You walked to the car in silence, the crunch of gravel beneath your feet the only sound between the two of you.

The drive home was tense, the air in the car thick with unspoken words. Andrei's eyes never left the road, but you could feel his need for you in every tense line of his body. You leaned over and placed your hand on his thigh, your thumb stroking the fabric of his dress pants. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t move away.

When you arrived at your apartment, Andrei practically dragged you inside, the door slamming shut behind you. He slammed you against the door, his mouth claiming yours in a fiery kiss that left you both gasping for air. You moaned, your hands fisting his hair as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Andrei’s hands roamed your body, desperate to feel every inch of you. He slid the silk dress up your thighs, his rough palms grazing your soft skin. Your breath hitched as his thumb brushed against the lace of your panties.

"Now, kisa?" he growled, his voice a mix of need and frustration. You could feel his arousal pressing against you, and you knew you couldn't wait any longer either.

With a sly smile, you whispered, "Alright, let's go to the bedroom."

Your passionate kisses didn't stop as you stumbled down the hallway, Andrei’s hands moving to peel off your dress, his desire unbridled. As you reached the bedroom, the dress fell to the floor in a puddle of silk, revealing your barely-there lingerie. Your heart raced, your body craving his touch.

Andrei laid you on the bed, his eyes dark with want. His fingers traced the outline of your bra, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in Russian, his voice deep and demanding. Your back arched, your eyes closing in pleasure as you felt his mouth replace his hands.

He kissed a path down your body, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your stomach before he reached the apex of your thighs. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body begging for his touch. Andrei didn’t disappoint, his mouth closing over your clit through your sheer panties, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were moaning his name.

Your hands were in his hair, guiding him, urging him on as he devoured you. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the softness of his lips, and the roughness of his prickly stubble. Your legs trembled, and you knew you were close to the edge. But Andrei had other plans. He pulled away, his eyes smoldering as he removed your underwear, tossing it aside.

“I want to see you come apart for me, kisa,” he murmured in your ear, his voice thick with lust. “My way of saying sorry.”

Your eyes flew open, meeting his intense gaze. You could feel his hands on your thighs, spreading your legs wider, exposing you to his hungry eyes. Andrei leaned down, his mouth replacing his thumb, his tongue delving deep into your folds. Your grip on the bedsheets tightened as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body responding to his every touch.

Andrei took his time, savoring every gasp and moan that escaped your lips. His tongue danced around your clit, flicking and swirling, driving you closer to the brink of orgasm. Your hips bucked against his face, your legs tightening around his head, urging him to never stop. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, the smell of your desire thick in the air.

“Dai, Andrei, please,” you begged, your voice a breathless whisper. Your body was a tight coil, wound up by the masterful way he teased you. Andrei chuckled darkly, his eyes glued to your glistening pussy as he added a finger to the mix, sliding it in and out of you with a rhythm that matched his tongue.

Your eyes rolled back, and you bit your lip to keep from screaming out. His finger curled inside you, finding your sweet spot, and you could feel the orgasm building, ready to crash down on you like a wave. Andrei’s other hand found your breast, squeezing and playing with your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure to your core.

With a final, desperate plea, you came, your body shaking with the intensity of your climax. Andrei didn’t stop, his tongue and finger working in unison until you were nothing but a trembling mess beneath him.

Pulling away, he gave you a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with triumph. Russian rolled off his tongue, “Ya zastavil tebya zhdat' slishkom dolgo, moy milyy kotenok, hmm?” He licked his lips, savoring your taste.

You could only nod, catching the phrase ‘made you wait too long’ and ‘kitten’, your breathing still erratic. Andrei leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue sliding against yours, sharing the flavor of your desire. You felt his erection pressing into your thigh, and you reached down to stroke him, your hand wrapping around his thick length.

He groaned into your mouth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Malishka," he murmured, his voice strained. He pushed your hand away, standing up to remove his own clothes. His pants hit the floor, revealing his boxer briefs, the outline of his hard cock clear. He stepped out of them, standing before you naked and proud.

You took in the sight of him, your eyes lingering on his toned abs, the V that dipped down to his shaft, the heavy erection that stood tall between his legs. You licked your lips, feeling your arousal spike again. Andrei climbed onto the bed, his movements swift and purposeful.

He positioned himself between your legs, his cock poised at your entrance. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you, spread out before him, your chest heaving with every breath, your skin flushed from the orgasm he’d just given you. He leaned down, whispering something in Russian that you didn’t understand, but the way his voice vibrated against your skin sent shivers down your spine.

Andrei slid into you with a groan, his thickness stretching you deliciously. Your nails dug into the bed, your body arching to meet his, your eyes boring into his. He began to move, his strokes deep and measured, each one pushing you closer to another peak.

“Andrei, faster,” you panted, your eyes fluttering shut. You felt his hand wrap around your throat, gently squeezing as his other hand found your clit, his thumb pressing down firmly.

"Open your eyes, kisa," he ordered, his voice gruff with need. Your eyes snapped open, locking onto his as he began to thrust harder, his hips moving with a fierce rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. His thumb on your clit grew more insistent, the pressure just right to send you spiraling toward another orgasm.

Andrei’s grip on your throat tightened slightly, his eyes focused on yours as he whispered, “You want me to make you feel good, malishka?”

Your eyes widened, the dominance in his voice sending a thrill through you. You nodded, your body already obeying his command. He picked up his pace, his strokes growing more erratic as his own climax approached. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your muscles clenching around him, your walls contracting as you fought for release.

Andrei’s thumb played with your clit with renewed vigor, his hips slamming into you as he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss. You could feel his cock swell even further, the pink, angry head brushing against your g-spot with every thrust. The hand on your throat tightened, cutting off your air, and making you lightheaded with desire.

He growled in approval, his own climax still a ways off. Andrei’s strokes grew erratic, his movements more primal as he chased his release. Your eyes remained locked with his, the connection between the two of you intense and unbreakable. You could feel the sweat trickling down your spine, your body begging for more, even as you trembled from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

With a sudden movement, Andrei pulled out of you, flipping you onto your stomach with surprising agility. You yelped in surprise, but before you could protest, you felt the head of his cock nudge against your slick entrance from behind. "Andrei," you whined, your voice a mix of pleasure and frustration.

He chuckled darkly. "You want more, kisa?" He didn’t wait for a response before slamming back into you, his hips slapping against your ass. Your moan was muffled by the pillow Andrei had buried your face into. The angle was new, the sensations overwhelming. Each thrust hit deeper than before, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your hands strained against the pillow, pushing yourself back to meet him as he claimed you from behind. You could feel the heat of Andrei’s body surrounding you, his muscles flexing and releasing as he moved in a punishing rhythm. His grip on your hips was firm, guiding your body to his will, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words that only added to the erotic symphony of your lovemaking.

"Do you want to touch me? Do you want to feel how hard I am for you?" Andrei’s voice was a gruff whisper in your ear as he pounded into you, his hand reaching around to stroke your clit again. You nodded frantically, your voice lost in the pillow.

"Vpered, prodolzhat'," Andrei hummed over you, giving you the permission you craved to reach out and feel his skin on yours.

You reached behind yourself, your hand finding his forearm, the muscles tight with effort. Your fingertips danced along the slick skin, feeling the power in every flex of his bicep as he pounded into you. The sensation of his cock filling you from this angle was exquisite, and you could feel your body responding, already building towards another peak.

Impatient, Andrei yanked you up by your arms, so you were on your knees, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. You moaned, your hands reaching back to grip his hips, your nails digging into his skin. He groaned, his movements growing more urgent. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, a testament to your passion.

"Harder," you gasped, your body begging for more. Andrei obliged, his strokes growing rougher, his grip on your hips tightening. You could feel his cock swell even further, his balls slapping against your clit with each powerful thrust. Your body was on fire, your orgasm building again.

Andrei leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth at your ear. "Khoroshiy?" he murmured in Russian, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he asked if you were good. You nodded, your body tightening as you approached the edge once more, unable to form words to respond to him.

He whispered something else you couldn’t process, and you felt him shift his angle, his cock brushing against that sensitive spot deep within you. A whiny moan escaped your lips, and your head fell back against your boyfriend's shoulder. Andrei’s breath grew ragged, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm that had your toes curling.

"Come for me," he demanded, his fingers trailing up to your throat once more. The gentle pressure was enough to send you spiraling over the edge, your body convulsing around his. Your scream of pleasure was broken as it fought its way through your constricted airway. Your soul practically left your body, the orgasm so intense it was almost painful. You could feel the fluid leaving your body, dampening the sheets as droplets landed on Andrei who simply grunted, his strokes never slowing.

"Andrei," you panted, your voice hoarse from screaming. He leaned down, kissing the side of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "Ya lyublyu tebya, kisa," he murmured, his voice thick with passion.

"Love you," you hummed, your words faltering as you came down from your orgasm.

You felt his thumb tracing lazy circles against your pulse point. His other hand found your clit, his movements precise and demanding. Your body responded instantly, your hips bucking back to meet his. You could feel him smiling against your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

When you finally came back to Earth, you could feel Andrew’s cum sticking to your thighs. You collapsed onto the bed with a sigh, your legs quivering, your breathing ragged. "I didn’t even realize you came too," you murmured, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

Andrei pulled out, his cock glistening with your combined juices. He didn’t bother to cover himself as he stumbled over to the bathroom to clean up. When he returned, he was still hard, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his aroused state. You had never seen him like this before, so raw and needy. It was both interesting and exhilarating.

He climbed back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He reached out, his hand grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads were touching. His voice was low and gruff as he whispered, "You think this is funny?"

Your smile grew wider, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "A little," you admitted. Andrei’s grip tightened, but you didn’t flinch, your own desire sparking for a brief second as you felt his length finally begin to soften against your leg.

"Legs," Andrei hummed, instructing you to open up so he could clean you up. You giggled, your cheeks flushed with pleasure and a hint of embarrassment, spreading your legs wider for him. His gentle touch and the cool cloth against your sensitive skin were a cool relief from the fiery passion you had just shared. He took his time, wiping away every trace of your lovemaking, his focus on taking care of you in the aftermath of your passion.

Once you were cleaned up, Andrei lay beside you, pulling you into his arms. His chest was still heaving, his heart racing from the intensity of your encounter. Your eyes drifted shut, a contented sigh escaping your lips as you felt the warmth of his body envelop you. His hand caressed your back, his thumb making soothing circles that had you melting into him.

The two of you lay there, basking in the afterglow, your skin sticky with sweat, the scent of sex heavy in the air. Andrei’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his leg thrown over yours in a possessive manner. You felt his breath against your neck, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. It was moments like these you cherished, the quiet moments after passion had taken over, when your bodies were still joined, your hearts beating as one.

“Why did you do this to me?” Andrei’s voice was a mix of playfulness and exasperation. You chuckled, turning your head to look at him.

“Me? Do this to you?” you replied, feigned innocence in your tone. You wiggled closer, your eyes sparkling to match the cheeky smile that graced your face. “You’re the one who started this whole 'No Nut November' thing. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t forgetting how good we are together.”

Andrei sighed, his hand tightening briefly around your waist before he leaned in to kiss your forehead. “I never forget, kisa,” he murmured, his voice thick with appreciation. You felt a warmth spread through you, his pet name for you a sweet reminder of his affection. You snuggled closer, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you.

For a moment, you lay in silence, the only sound the distant murmur of the Raleigh nightlife. Then Andrei spoke up, his tone more serious. “No more challenges for me.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a hint of skepticism. “What about your pride, Svech?” you teased, using his nickname.

“You are my pride, kisa,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that you hadn’t seen before, and it made your heart race.

You leaned up on your elbow, studying his face. “Really?” you whispered, your voice filled with wonder. Andrei nodded, his thumb brushing over your full bottom lip.

“You win, kisa. I can’t resist you, and I don’t want to.” His eyes searched yours, a silent promise in their depths. You felt your heart swell, the love you felt for him overwhelming you. You leaned in, your lips pressing to his in a gentle kiss. It was filled with all the love and passion you felt for this man who had stumbled into your life and turned it upside down in the best way possible.

Andrei’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, and deepening the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, dancing with yours in a silent apology for his earlier stubbornness. You melted into the embrace, your bodies still humming together from the show of your love.

#&. cassie writes.#&. nnn masterlist.#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov smut #carolina hurricanes #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #x black reader #black!reader #black!oc #x black fem reader #black!fem!reader #nhl fic

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neverendingford · 2 years ago

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Dear Mom,

thanks for raising me

your taught me so many things

you taught me to be independent

I don't even ask anyone for help anymore

I've learned how to achieve more,

to push myself harder

I don't even know when to stop until my body hurts

I've learned to trust people

to have faith

and I don't even mistrust people until they're already hurting me

you taught me so many things

and your words live in my heart.

"I'll bet you could run faster if someone were chasing you with a knife"

your words inspire me every day

"you have to try harder so you don't become lazy"

I tell you that you are just like me

and you say neither of us need help

"I know what you think, but everyone is just like this"

recently I changed my life.

I took steps to get help.

to choose my identity.

to allow myself to thrive.

I put myself in the hospital first-

only after I was out of options did I admit my needs

would it have been better that way?

for you to love an idea?

for you to love someone who made the ultimate effort?

I tried

I tried for you

am I lazy for giving up?

"medicine is the easy way out"

I think about you every time I take these pills

adhd and antidepressants.

am I weaker for trying?

not like this.

I should have tried a better way somehow.

how do I write this in a stanza?

encapsulate your culture in verse?

independence in body

isolation of soul

dependence of spirit

desolation in my bones

gold in His mansions

dust in your home

love in that future

scorn in this now

blessed are the meek,

for they shall accept the yoke

cursed are the headstrong,

for they shall go their own way

raise up a child in the way he should go

and when she is grown she will curse your name

I always wanted to be just like you

and now I guess I am

sincerely

#text post #poetry #will I ever be better? idk we'll find out in five years #color says shit #wrote this out after I finally took my meds after three days of not. because I realized what my mental block was #can't say my parents never gave me anything huh #anyway. more of me being entirely too dramatic about having problems. or not dramatic enough? idk #having emotions is very cathartic and these seem to be the only original posts that do well #not that I give a fuck about whether y'all like my posts but just commenting.#that thing about mentally ill art. I still think it slaps above any other art. lot more raw vibes contained within #anyway. I just finished making a nice big pot of vegetable beef soup so I'm gonna go eat and maybe watch Nimona.#I'll maybe liveblog it or something. or maybe just enjoy it on my own. without feeling the need to constantly connect to others #maybe enjoy something in solitude. who knows.#it's just that one thing cj the x said about enjoying a moment without tweeting about it.

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milkteabinniechan · 13 days ago

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♡Sandcastles - Chan

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: nerd! Chan x best friend! reader

summary: it's finally spring break and with final exams in the rearview mirror, it's time for you and your best friend to enjoy a well-deserved beach day.

warnings: inexperienced Chan, experienced reader, angst, insecurities, body issues, (you make Chan feel better about himself!!) light kissing, so much fluff <333

a/n: sorry for the little hiatus but I am officially back with the first story in the Stray College series :') I hope y'all like it!!!

“Hey, wanna eat lunch together?” Chan said with a bright smile as he scooches toward you. As you sit down next to each other, you both reach for the sandwiches splayed on your trays. “So, how has your day been so far?” Chan asks, trying to keep the conversation light and casual, but his heart races slightly at the proximity to you.

“Oh, fine. What about yours?” You ask. You peel back the lid of your pudding before bringing it to your lips.

Chan watches you lick the pudding clean from the flimsy lid, his mind wandering briefly before he snaps back to the conversation. "Mine was okay, just the usual." He swallows hard, trying to ignore the sudden butterflies in his stomach. You turn towards him, noticing the pile of textbooks next to his arm. Chan has always been too hard on himself when it comes to studying.

“How has biology been? I know the test last week was brutal.” you ask.

Chan chuckles softly, running a hand through his hair. “Oh god, don't remind me. I was up all night studying for that thing.” He pauses, glancing at you with a small smile. “You did pretty well on it, right? I remember you aced the practice tests.”

You feel that familiar warmth start to build in your stomach at his words. A feeling that only Chan has seemed to master to create inside of you.

“Ha, yeah. I guess I did alright on it.”

Chan's eyes linger on your flushed cheeks, a faint warmth spreading through his own chest. “That's great to hear. You're really smart, you know that?” He looks away quickly, his face growing hot. “So, um, have you decided what you're doing for spring break yet?”

Spring break. Most of the students had made plans months ago to go on exotic vacations and expensive cruises. But the two of you had been so caught up with finals that it didn't leave much time for planning. You chew the bottom of your lip in thought. Something easy, something fun, and most importantly, something affordable on a student budget. Your eyes suddenly light up with an idea. “Oh! How about a beach day?”

His heart skips a beat at your enthusiasm. “A... a beach day?” His voice cracks slightly. “That... that sounds nice.” He fidgets with his food, trying to hide a nervous smile. “Though... I'm not really the most experienced swimmer…” He lied. Truth was, Chan loved to swim but hadn't done it in years. You give him a warm smile, nudging his arm with yours playfully. “That's okay! We'll just hang out on dry land, make sandcastles and get food and tan!”

Chan blushes deeper at the playful nudge, his stomach fluttering with excitement and nerves. “A tan, huh? I'd really like that. With you.”

Your face turned a brighter shade of red. “Then it's a date! meet me tomorrow at Eagle Crest beach okay? And don't forget your bathing suit!” You give Chan a wink before grabbing your lunch tray and walking away. Chan's jaw nearly drops at your wink, his entire body flushing red as he watches you walk away. He mutters softly to himself, hardly believing what just happened "A-a date? Did... did we just... oh god…”

The next day, Chan arrives at Eagle Crest Beach, his heart pounding like a drum solo as he scans the crowd for you. He's armed with SPF 100 sunscreen, an oversized beach towel (his shield against embarrassment), and a stomach full of butterfly-flavored nerves. He spots your waving arm and makes his way over, trying to act casual despite his racing heart. As he gets closer, he sees the towels and umbrella, realizing you actually meant this to be a real beach day, not just a meet-up. "You... you planned this.”

Your eyes follow his as the two of you take in the set up you've made for the day. Embarrassment washes over you like a cold wave as you realize you may have done too much, been too eager, too excited and now he would feel uncomfortable. “It's nice.” Chan whispers under a smile. You smile back and decide to make yourself comfortable. You lift your shirt to reveal a bright red bathing suit top. Chan's eyes widen as he takes in your red bikini top, his mind blanking for a moment before he quickly averts his gaze, blushing furiously. He swallows hard, trying to act normal as he spreads his beach towel next to yours. He looks down at his baggy white T-shirt, then back at your bikini top, gulping audibly. He hesitantly pulls his T-shirt over his head, revealing a chiseled physique.

Your eyes flicker over to him innocently before they drink in the entire view. He catches you staring at his abdomen as he adjusts his towel, his muscles flexing unintentionally. He's always been shy about his physique, but seeing your reaction makes him feel a strange warmth spreading across his chest, not from the sun. "You... you good?”

Your mouth goes dry at the moment he turns towards you. What a ridiculous fucking question. Your voice is now a strangled and raspy mess. “You're…RIPPED!”

His face turns beet red at your compliment, running a hand through his hair nervously "Oh, um, I... I just workout sometimes. In my room. It started as a way to stay fit and healthy but I just really enjoy it now.”

Your face splits into a wide smile hearing Chan talk about something he genuinely enjoys that isn't school. His eyes seem to glimmer at the mention of it. “Maybe we could workout together sometime?” You push your shoulder into his gently. Chan lets out a chuckle then a deep breath. A breath he didn't know he was holding onto. “I'd like that.” He says softly, his eyes still fixed on the sand at his feet.

The two of you sit together, listening to the waves crashing and breaking into the shore. Soon, most of the people have gone home leaving the two of you and a single umbrella punctured in the shoreline.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice carries over lapping water.

“Sure.”

“You have no idea how hot you are, do you?” You ask, keeping your eyes fixed on the cool blues and greens of the ocean.

Chan coughs into his can of beer. The smell of hops spurts back into his nose as he uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. “Excuse me?” His head snaps to you.

“You heard me, bookworm.” You exclamate your words with the sound of your beer can clanking against his.

“I guess, no? I don't really consider myself ‘hot’.” Chan confesses. And it was the truth. He had never been told he was the hot guy before. He was the “nice guy”. The guy that helped you with your homework, the guy that your parents trusted to stay out late with, the guy that followed the rules. “I'm not that guy.” His voice drops to a solemn tone.

You set your empty can of beer down next to you and turn to face Chan, a cheeky smirk growing quickly. “Sorry to be the one to break this to you, but you are that guy. You're the hot guy.”

Chan's eyes lock with yours and for a moment even the waves seem to have slowed themselves to see what would happen next. He knew what the “hot guy” would do in this situation. He would grab the girl and kiss her, right? Right?! He swallows hard, his eyes following yours to his own lips. He feels a sudden urge to close the distance between you, to kiss you and see if the attraction he feels is mutual. But his shyness holds him back, leaving him stuck in place, his lips parted slightly. You let out a soft chuckle and roll your eyes, pulling his face to yours. “Come here, you.”

His eyes widen right before your lips meet his, surprise giving way to pleasure. He melts into the kiss hesitant at first, overwhelmed but eager. After a moment, he timidly begins to reciprocate, his inexperienced lips moving clumsily against yours. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss slightly, trying to mimic what he's seen in movies. He can feel your body pressed against his, making him acutely aware of his own thick frame. He breaks the kiss briefly to whisper, "How's that for the ‘hot guy’?”

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat @kibs-and-bits @minhosgirlposts @firelordtsuki @softkisshyunjin @doyunkang @cocofia143 @nchhuhi @iovecb97 @skzfairyyydreamz @mikeysonlygirl @kwitchabtchn

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imagine-you · 1 month ago

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Think I Only Want You Under My Mistletoe [Logan/Reader]

Summary: In which you need a fake date to your parent's Christmas party, Logan volunteers, and you realize that maybe your unrequited crush isn't so unrequited after all. May include: Fake Dating, Real Feelings, Meddlesome Friends, Terrible Parents, and Mistletoe. Word Count: 5.5k Author's Notes: Part of my In Another Life, Perhaps 'verse. In which they're stuck in a Hallmark Movie Universe??? Either way, Merry Christmas, y'all! 🎄

Read on AO3

"Ugh," you groaned, letting your face fall into your hands. You figured it was better than hitting your head against the table in the hopes that your situation would suddenly change.

"What's wrong?" Ororo asked, studying you across the break room table.

“My whole life,” you grumbled, knowing you were being childish, but glad that none of your students were around to see it.

You had managed to get a brief moment of respite from the teenagers roaming the halls of the X-Mansion by retreating to the makeshift teacher's lounge located in a room tucked away near the kitchen. All of you had worked to make it your own space.

Hank had lugged in a refrigerator and at some point a microwave had shown up on someone's repurposed nightstand. Charles had offered to pay for whatever the staff might have wanted, but all of you seemed to want to fill the room with personal touches and effects. So, someone had dragged in an old table that must have been stored in the attic and other people stole desk chairs from unoccupied rooms. Over time, a coffeemaker had been added along with a small cabinet full of snacks. There were also photos along the wall, candid and professional shots of the staff.

Your favorite was a group shot where most of you were making a goofy face. Your eyes were always drawn to Remy doing bunny ears behind Logan’s head and Logan in the middle of snarling at Remy to cut it out, but there was just the tiniest bit of a grin peeking at the edges of Logan’s mouth.

He swore he hated you all, but you knew better. He was part of the family and there was a reason he had stuck around despite his own protests.

The lounge was one of your favorite places to be and it was even better when you were joined by your fellow teachers and friends. It was a bonus perk knowing that none of the kids were allowed. You loved teaching and you loved all the bright, young students taking up residence in the mansion, but it was nice to get a break from time to time.

Especially when you needed a safe place to vent your frustrations about every wrong turn your life seemed to take.

“No, really, what’s wrong?” Ororo asked again.

"My parents," you sighed, sliding the invitation you received earlier that morning across the table so she could read it.

"What's the big deal, sugar?" Rogue wondered, leaning over Ororo’s shoulder so she could read the paper as well. "Sounds like a good time."

"Every year, it's always the same," you explained, reaching out to grab the invitation when Ororo handed it back. "My parents invite me to their Christmas party and I go because I love them, but I end up having a miserable time."

"If it's so miserable, why bother going?" Logan asked from where he was leaning up against the table that held the coffeemaker and microwave. He was sipping a beer and looked relaxed in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. You had a fleeting thought that Logan looked really good and you hoped Charles or Jean hadn't managed to catch that.

Charles had only grown more meddlesome in his old age and you certainly didn’t need him trying to set you up with Logan. And Logan had been infatuated with Jean for as long as you had known him. You really didn’t cherish the idea of her knowing she had something you desperately wanted.

"It's complicated," you tried, but rolled your eyes when Logan simply arched a brow at you, unimpressed with your attempt at deflection. "My parents aren't so fond of mutants," you finally conceded, unsurprised at Logan's snort and shake of his head.

"I might be missing something here, but you're a mutant, aren't you?" Remy asked as he dropped down into the chair at Rogue's side. He let his arm stretch across the back of her chair and you noticed the way she leaned into him, careful not to let her skin brush against him.

You hadn't noticed Remy enter the room, since you had been so focused on Logan. You shrugged your shoulders, staring morosely at the rest of your sandwich. "Yeah," you sighed, meeting Remy's gaze. "They love me. They do," you insisted at Remy's incredulous look. "But they want me to be normal. I only see them a couple times a year, since I'm usually here with the X-Men, and every year at Christmas, without fail, I show up without a date like an idiot. And then my parents try to set me up with some normal human guy as if that will make me somehow more acceptable to them."

"That sure sounds a lot like conditional love, sugar," Rogue mused, quirking an eyebrow at you. "Why don't you just skip out on the party this year? Save yourself the hassle?"

"Because as much as they've royally fucked me up with all their anti-mutant bullshit, I still love them. I can't help it. So, if I have to suffer through another year of trying to ward off some random jackass' advances while my parents stand there smiling as if they can't see how uncomfortable I am? Then I'll deal with the torture if I can make them happy for a few minutes."

Silence invaded the room and you suddenly got the sense that every person in the room was staring at you. You didn't realize until you said it out loud just how fucked up your situation with your parents really was, but you were so deep into it that you didn't know if you'd ever be able to claw your way free.

"Well," Ororo started, leaning forward across the table and placing a hand on your arm, as if trying to offer you comfort. "If you want them to stop meddling, then show up with a date. Break the cycle."

"But that's the problem," you protested, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm not dating anyone, so I don't have a date."

"Well, it's not like it's got to be a real one, darling. Why I'm sure Remy would love to go with you. Your parents will sure get a kick out of him," Rogue offered, reaching out to settle a gloved hand on Remy's shoulder.

Remy offered you a smirk before holding out his hand with his palm turned up. You furrowed your brow as you rested your hand in his and laughed when he pulled your hand close and kissed it.

"It would be my pleasure," he vowed with a wink.

You glanced from Remy to Rogue and then back again, realizing they were completely serious. You knew your parents would flip when they met Remy. He was charming, but chaotic, and sure to piss your parents off. If his red, glowing eyes didn't give away that he was a mutant, then you were sure it would only be a matter of time before he blew something up.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad showing up with a date. Remy was your friend and you knew that he would do whatever it took to make sure you weren't cornered by some asshole who had been misled by your parents into thinking you were on the market. You felt safe with Remy and maybe for once you might actually enjoy one of your parent's Christmas parties.

"Alright," you decided, nodding your head as you drew you hand back. "Yeah, that sounds like--"

"I'll do it," Logan interrupted, startling you.

You had completely forgotten he was practically standing right behind you. You turned in your chair to look at him. You were surprised to see him studying you, expression intent.

"What?" You blurted, sure that you had misheard Logan.

"I'll be your date," Logan offered before casually raising his beer and taking a sip, as if he hadn't sent your heart into a frenzy.

"You don't have to," you assured him, not sure how you would be able to handle Logan as a date to your parent's Christmas party. It wasn't that you didn't want to go with Logan, because you absolutely did. The problem was that you had had a pathetic crush on him the moment you first laid eyes on him, but Logan was notoriously head over heels for Jean.

Even though she was married to Scott, you had heard time and again from practically every person on the X-Men that Logan had been in love with her from the first moment he met her. So, you wouldn't be able to handle a fake date with Logan, because you would spend the whole time desperately wishing that it was real.

"I want to," Logan insisted, finally standing up out of his slouch against the table that had been converted into a coffee bar. He rolled his shoulders, like he was preparing for a fight, and you wondered why he was being so adamant about being your date.

"That's sweet of you, Logan, but Remy already offered, and--," you tried before you were cut off by Logan again.

"I'll do it," Logan stressed, a hint of a growl in his voice as he stared down Remy like he was challenging him to something.

You glanced from Logan to Remy to Logan again.

"What the hell is going on," you muttered, shooting a bewildered look at Ororo and Rogue to see if they were as confused as you were.

Rogue looked amused and Ororo was watching Logan with an arched brow. But neither one seemed to be questioning the events that were playing out before them.

After what seemed like hours of intense eye contact between the two, Remy finally held up his hands in surrender. He shot you a wink, ignoring Logan's grunt of protest.

"I'm sure our Logan will do a fine job playing your paramour," Remy added, reaching out to run his fingers along your arm. "But if it doesn't work out, you know where to find me."

Logan grumbled something under his breath before he strode over. He snatched the invitation off the table, succeeding in separating you and Remy, before he skimmed over the page.

"How long will it take to get there?" Logan asked, glancing down at you.

"It's about a three-hour drive from here," you told him, trying not to focus too much on the fact that Logan was so close to you that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. The fabric of his sweatpants was dangerously close to brushing against your arm and you had to force yourself to stay absolutely still, because you weren't even sure what you would do if you allowed yourself to move.

"Be ready to leave by four tomorrow, then," Logan ordered before he placed his empty bottle of beer on the table between you and Remy and left the room.

You stared at the door for a moment before finally turning your gaze on the three people patiently waiting for you to break free of your stupor.

"What the hell just happened?" You wondered, still trying to catch up.

"What happened," Remy started, leaning back in his seat and placing his arm along the back of Rogue's chair again, "my beautiful, clueless friend, is that Ororo here owes me twenty dollars."

"What," you muttered, watching helplessly as Ororo handed Remy the money she evidently owed him.

"It was only a matter of time," Remy continued, tucking the money away in his pocket. "Logan's wanted you for years."

You scoffed, ready to deny it, but shut up at Ororo's eye roll.

"I thought he would never make a move, but Remy had far more faith in Logan than I did."

"A move? What move? There wasn't a move," you insisted.

"Swooping in and stealing you away from a fake date with my Remy? That was a move," Rogue assured you, grinning at you. "It was only a matter of time. Everyone knows about Logan's feelings except for you."

"There are no feelings, because he's been pining for Jean for years," you reminded them. You stood up, grabbing the invitation off the table, and fixed them all with a determined look. "You're all wrong, you know that? Nothing's going to happen between Logan and me," you told them before leaving the room.

You clutched the paper in your hands and tried to ignore the fact that you really, really wanted something to happen between you and Logan.

The next afternoon, you were nearly done getting dressed when someone knocked on your door. You glanced at the clock, realizing it was nearly four, and rushed to pull on your jacket as you walked to the door.

You opened the door and stood, stunned, at the sight of Logan dressed in a dark t-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket. This was as close to dressed up as Logan got and you didn't get why he was going to all the effort just for you or your mutant-hating parents.

"Did you shave?" You blurted, noting that his usual scruff was a little more contained than usual.

Logan shrugged his shoulders, stepping to the side and gesturing for you to lead the way. You narrowed your eyes at him as you passed him, making for the front door of the mansion. Logan reached out and stopped you with a hand on your elbow, steering you towards the garage instead.

"Are we taking your bike?" Temperatures were quickly dropping outside and you didn't exactly want to freeze your ass off even if you would be pressed up against Logan.

"Nope," Logan answered, not bothering to clarify until he was standing right beside Scott's car.

"Are we stealing Summers' car?"

Logan held up the keys, flashing you a quick grin. "Asked for permission this time," he informed you before rounding the car and pulling open the passenger side door. He stood there, watching you expectantly, before you finally forced yourself to move.

"Thanks," you told him, gifting him with a smile, before settling into the passenger seat.

Logan gently closed the door for you before moving towards the driver's side. It wasn't long before he was pulling the car out of the garage as you put your parent's address into the navigation system. Christmas music faintly played, filling the silence between you, and you kept shooting nervous looks over at Logan. His shoulders were tense and his hands periodically clenched the steering wheel tight. You couldn’t tell if he was regretting his decision or feeling just as anxious as you were.

The silence began to feel excruciatingly awkward, but you didn't know how to fill it. You spent so long staring resolutely out the window that you didn't even notice when you began to drift off, your head lolling back against the headrest as your eyes closed.

"Y/N," Logan called, his hand on your shoulder cautiously shaking you awake.

"What?" You grumbled, reluctantly opening your eyes and squinting over at him.

Logan looked enraptured, a soft smile on his face as he studied you.

"We're here," he told you, prompting you to look out the windshield to the sight of your parent's home. Logan had parked the car in the long, winding driveway. There were already several cars parked along the side of it, which only made the driveway seem longer. "So, your family's loaded, huh?"

"Yeah," you groaned with a grimace. "Why do you think they keep trying to marry me off to all their rich friend's sons? They want their legacy to continue or whatever bullshit goes on in their heads."

"Damn," Logan sighed, shaking his head. "Good thing you won't have to worry about that this year, huh?"

You nodded your head, finally making yourself look at Logan again. You reached out, tentative, and placed your hand on his arm. "Logan?"

"Yeah?" He asked, staring down at your hand before turning slightly in his seat to face you.

"Thanks," you said, pulling your hand away when you realized you had been touching him for way too long to be normal. "For doing this," you clarified, ignoring the way your cheeks flushed at his attention. "You really didn't have to, you know."

Logan stared at you for one drawn-out intense moment and you fought the urge to look away. You inanely felt like you were in a predator's sights, which was stupid because Logan would never hurt you, but you still felt like you were being hunted.

"Yeah, I did," he finally responded, his gaze lingering on you before he glanced away.

Before you could question him, Logan got out of the car. You stared at the closed driver's side door for a moment before you took a deep breath and opened the passenger door. Logan met you just as you were getting out and he closed the car door for you.

He held out his arm and you linked yours with his as you headed up towards the house. You had to stop yourself from swaying into Logan's side. There was a feeling rising within you that you weren't sure how to contain. It was anticipation and longing and fear, because if you fucked this up, then what would you do? It would be awkward living and working in the same place as Logan and you hated the idea of avoiding him all to save yourself some dignity.

Before you were ready, you were standing on your parent's doorstep, hesitant to announce your arrival.

"What's wrong?" Logan asked, nudging you in the side with his elbow.

"We can leave," you blurted, avoiding his gaze. "We can leave and just skip this year and they never have to know I was here."

Logan sighed before unhooking his arm from yours and wrapping it around your shoulders. "I've got you," he promised. "Now ring the damn doorbell."

"That was almost sweet," you muttered, grinning at Logan's snort of amusement.

You reluctantly reached out to ring the doorbell, wincing at the chime you had heard throughout all your childhood. It meant you were home and not where you really belonged at the X-Mansion. You were still debating the merits of just making a run for it when the door opened and you were met with the sight of your mother.

She looked genuinely happy to see you, which was really one of the only things that was keeping you rooted to the spot. But then she realized you weren't alone and she turned her attention towards Logan. The warmth in her smile faded into something more polite and suited for company.

"Oh, you brought a friend," your mom observed, the corners of her mouth turning down in disapproval.

"I brought a date," you corrected her, trying not to startle when Logan dropped his hold on your shoulders and instead grabbed your hand. Feeling Logan lace his fingers through yours felt like the greatest thing ever and you hated that he was only doing it for show.

"And who is this?" Your mom asked, already dismissive of Logan despite knowing nothing about him.

She knew one thing, you thought, doing your best not to scowl at your mom. She hadn't picked Logan for you, so of course he wasn't good enough.

"Logan, ma'am," he introduced with a nod of his head.

"And how do you know my daughter, Logan?" Your mom interrogated, staring him down as if she could make him disappear if she concentrated hard enough.

It was then you realized your mom was refusing to move until she got her answers. Your mom hated being perceived as rude and you knew she must really not want Logan there if she wasn't even going to pretend to welcome him.

"Y/N and I work together and--" Logan cut himself off and shot you a wary look. You shook your head, letting him know not to tack on that you practically lived together as well. "We work together," he settled on with a small shrug of his shoulders.

"Are you one of those?" Your mom asked, gesturing briefly towards you.

You felt Logan tense up at your side and knew that trouble was fast approaching. Logan smiled at your mom, practically baring his teeth, and cocked his head to the side. "A mutant?" He supplied, practically not blinking as he met your mom's unimpressed stare with one of his own. "You could say that, sure," he added with a dangerous smirk that sent warning bells ringing in your head.

You tightened your hold on Logan's hand, lending him your own brand of moral support while also hoping to shut him up. "Mom, it's cold out here," you hinted, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Maybe you should invite us in.”

"Right," she muttered before stepping aside. "Why don't you and your...date," she practically sneered, "come in?"

"Thanks," Logan told your mom, offering her a wide, unsettling smile. "Your hospitality is appreciated."

You had never really seen Logan like this before. Maybe once or twice when he was in the same room as Scott and Jean and he wanted to get under Scott's skin. But this was somehow different and terrifying and just a bit thrilling.

Logan was doing his damnedest to stand up for you while also pretending to respect your mom. You could tell your mom was disappointed in you, but you didn't even care. You found yourself wishing that bringing Logan as your date was real, but you would take what you could get. You would just have to enjoy Logan's attention for as long as you had it.

Logan urged you forward with a hand on the small of your back and then helped you shrug out of your coat. “You weren’t kidding,” he muttered under his breath, sounding irritated. “You’ve put up with this shit your whole life?”

“Yeah,” you answered, knowing it was starting to look really pathetic on your part.

Your mom had retreated into the living room. You could see her talking to your dad and she pointed towards you and Logan. Your dad scowled before schooling his expression into something more neutral.

"Shit," you hissed, before grabbing Logan's arm. "Let's go somewhere else," you suggested.

"I go where you go," Logan promised, letting you lead him towards the dining room where you knew you would find a buffet-style spread of food.

At the very least, this was something your parents always got right. Logan looked exhilarated as he piled a plate with all kinds of food, ranging from strips of steak to scalloped potatoes to slices of honey glazed ham.

“Now this is a spread,” he approved, taking a bite of stuffed mushroom.

“Eat up,” you told him, grinning at him. “You’ve earned it.”

After eating and then drifting from room to room in a bid to avoid your parents, you realized that Logan was intent on keeping his word. He stayed right there at your side, letting you introduce him to your parent's friends and their kids with a smile on his face and a hand on the small of your back.

You were beginning to feel flustered having Logan in your space, so you retreated to the one place you knew you could drop the facade for just a little bit and gain a tiny bit of your sanity back.

You ended up hanging out with the children that had been left in a room near the back of the house. You had always hated being a kid at your parent's parties, because it meant you were stuck in a room with other kids and basically ignored for the rest of the night. But now, as an adult, it was the only true refuge to be found at your parent’s house during a party.

You ended up entertaining them with your powers. You helped some float using your forcefields and you turned invisible and let them try to find you. All the while, Logan stood at the entryway of the room, watching you with a fond little smile that set off a fluttering in the pit of your stomach.

After half an hour of Logan's undivided attention, you decided to give yourself a break. You planned on staying with the kids, so you doubted your parents would even find you. The plan was foolproof and would give you the time to calm your racing heart.

"Hey, would you mind getting me a drink?" You asked Logan, glancing up at him from where you were crouched on the floor and letting Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter draw what you thought might be a unicorn on your arm.

Logan nodded his head, pushing off the doorframe he had been leaning against. He looked so fond and you couldn’t take it anymore.

"Any preferences?"

"Surprise me," you told him with a grin, feeling just the slightest bit bold and playful.

“You got it.” Logan winked before leaving the room, doing nothing to help you feel any more in control of the situation.

"Are you and Mr. Logan getting married?" Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter asked you, adding what you assumed was blood beneath the unicorn's hooves. Either that, or she had run out of green for grass and was making do with what she had on hand.

"Mr. Logan doesn't like me like that," you told her, obediently turning your arm over when she tapped it and shook a blue marker at you.

"Yes, he does," she answered, as if it was that simple. She started shading in a sky and you hoped it would be easy to wash off later.

"Well, isn't that adorable," someone drawled from the doorway.

"Fuck," you breathed, instantly recognizing the voice.

"That's an uh-oh word," Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter reprimanded you.

"Sorry," you told her, patting her on the shoulder before standing up. You reluctantly turned to see your ex standing there. "What're you doing here?"

"Your parents invited me," Timothy told you, studying you. "God, you look great."

"Shit," you groaned, realizing that Timothy had been the person they were going to try to set you up with this year.

"That's another uh-oh word," Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter informed you with a disapproving frown.

"Right," you agreed before walking towards Timothy. "Maybe in front of the children isn't the best place for this conversation."

You brushed past Timothy, hating that you were in the same room as him, much less signing yourself up for a confrontation. You had been convinced for three years that Timothy was the one until he told you that he would rather adopt children than risk you passing on any of your 'mutant genes' to them. It had crushed you, realizing that Timothy didn't fully love you at all, and you had packed up all your things and joined the X-Men.

If anything, it should have made your parents hate Timothy for driving you away. Instead, they seemed to think he was the one who got away for you and you would never do any better.

You stopped in the entryway of an empty guest room and turned to face him.

"Look, I don't know what my parents told you, but I'm here with a date. I'm taken, alright? I don't want to get back together."

"Oh, come on," Timothy said, moving forward until he was in your space. "There's no date. You don’t have to lie to me to make me want you more. I want you. I always have. And now we're here and there's a really good reason why I should kiss you right now," he continued with a quick glance up.

You tried not to wince as you also took a chance and looked up at the frame of the doorway. "Mistletoe," you observed, hating that you had the worst luck. "It wasn't on purpose."

"I already told you that you don't have to lie to me," Timothy claimed before bringing a hand up and cupping your cheek. "I'm all yours, babe. Just say the word."

"Leave," Logan growled, approaching the pair of you from down the hallway. He had two wine glasses in his hands which he quickly set down on a table displaying family photos.

"Who the fuck are you?" Timothy asked, barely even budging from his spot in front of you.

"My date," you helpfully informed him just as Logan unsheathed his claws.

"What the--" Timothy started just as you pushed him away with a forcefield. He went stumbling back, shooting you a look of betrayal. "You swore you'd never use that against me."

"When we dated, sure," you reminded him. "But we're not together anymore. And we never will be again," you stressed, hoping he would get the message.

When Logan kept coming towards the two of you, not bothering to put away his claws, Timothy's eyes widened.

"Move it, bub," Logan snarled, looking like he was moments away from sinking his claws into Timothy.

"Okay, okay, I get it, whatever. Tell your boyfriend I'm sorry," he rambled, practically scrambling to get away from you and Logan.

You watched him scurry away, a grin tugging at your lips. "That was great," you exclaimed, turning back towards Logan. You nearly jumped when you realized that Logan was now standing right in front of you.

He packed the claws away and reached up to frame your face in his hands.

"What are you doing?" You whispered, your heart suddenly pounding so hard you were sure Logan would be able to hear it going crazy.

"There's mistletoe," Logan reminded you, his voice soft and intimate.

"We don't have to," you assured him. "I mean, it's just a dumb tradition, right? It's--"

"What I want," Logan finished for you, expression intent and serious. His thumb gently swept along your jaw and you didn't even have time to process the fact that Logan wanted to kiss you before his lips were pressed against yours.

Your brain went haywire trying to figure out what to do. You brought your hands up, unsure where they should land, before you settled them on Logan's shoulders. You were worried you would fuck the moment up by not responding, so you poured all your feelings into the kiss. You had wanted Logan for so long and if this was the only kiss you got from him, then you wanted it to be something you remembered for years to come.

Logan's touch remained gentle, but his kiss was searching and all-consuming. You nipped lightly at his lips, testing for a reaction, and shivered when Logan moaned and reeled you in closer.

By the time you pulled away, you felt like Logan had thoroughly claimed you. You nearly couldn't catch your breath, torn between giddy anticipation and fear that this was all about to come crashing down around you.

You met Logan's eyes, unsure of what you would find there. You froze for a moment, sure that you were wrong, but you let yourself take the time to really look at him. You couldn’t afford to mess this up. There was way too much at stake.

Logan was watching you like you were the only thing in the whole world. He was looking at you with affection and want and something that looked a lot like love to you. It was exactly what Remy, Rogue, and Ororo had claimed Logan had been doing all along.

"I've really got to thank Remy," you muttered, realizing that he had been right that Logan had been making a move by agreeing to be your fake date. Except, Logan did have real feelings for you, but you were the only one who hadn't been able to see it.

"What?" Logan growled, his grip briefly tightening on you. "You're really thinking about Remy right now? After what just happened, he’s what’s on your mind?"

You shook your head, smiling at Logan. Logan had absolutely no reason to be jealous, because even if he might not be aware of it, there was no one who could ever compete with him. No one else had ever made you feel the way Logan made you feel. You felt like there was a warmth taking root in your chest and it was lighting you up inside. It was all Logan. His touch, his kiss, and his affection had you feeling invincible.

As long as you had him, you truly could do anything. Including deal with your parents and their intolerance and shitty choice of suitors for you.

Logan had volunteered to be your date and had spent a whole evening putting up with your parents and their snooty, prejudiced friends all for you. Logan had run off your ex and then kissed you like he wanted nothing more than to keep doing that for the rest of his life. Logan wanted you just as much as you wanted him and you felt like you were on top of the world.

You didn't care that this had started out as fake, because now it was real and there was really only one thing you wanted to do now that you knew you had Logan.

"You've got nothing to worry about. You're all I want," you assured him before reeling him back in for another kiss underneath the mistletoe.

It wasn’t exactly the Christmas you had expected to have, but it was turning out to be the only one worth celebrating.

Logan was truly the best gift you had ever received.

All Logan Taglist: @i-left-my-cat-on-the-stove @slightlymediocree @snowyminty @i-wear-wet-socks313 @shizzybarnaclee

Series Taglist: @ayamenimthiriel @the-gentle-spirit @wolflover-20

If you would like to be added to the all logan or the series taglist, just let me know!

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine #x men #x men imagine #logan howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #reader insert #imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #christmas fic #logan x reader #in another life perhaps verse #fic #ao3 #my fic

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ponderingmoonlight · 10 months ago

Note

Gojo falls ill and reader does finishes his missions and her own missions as well do Gojo doesn't have a pile of work waiting for him once he gets better. Gojo gets better. And finds out. Hehehehe Lobe u babes

omg I love this, let's do it hehe

Reader finishing Gojo's missions when he falls sick and he finds out

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 2,3k

Synopsis: When your husband falls sick, you don't think twice about completing all of his tasks in order for him to not be stressed - even if it means multiple sleepless nights for youself. Little did you know that your husband will find out about it and thank you in his own way...

Warnings: pure fluff over fluff so enjoy, Gojo basically being THE husband for y'all, not proofread because it's already darn late here and I'm way too tired

„Oh come on, don’t tell me the honoured one caught a cold”, you playfully tease your beloved husband.

He’s definitely ill, there’s no doubt in that. The way his forehead is covered in sweat, his unusual pale face paired with his heavy breathing. Let alone the sight of his red and runny nose.

You never thought this is possible. After all, Satoru is one of the few people who are able to use revered technique. Isn’t he able to heal himself, to prevent his body from falling sick?

“Looks like I overdid it those last weeks. My body is catching up on my apparently”, he replies weakly along with a nasty sounding cough.

You know all too well these last weeks were like a trip to hell and back for him. This is actually the first time you saw your husband after one whole week of him running from mission to mission and coming home into bad past after midnight. Being two special grade sorcerers, it is your responsibility to prevent the worst things from happening. Especially during summer, the number of curses triples. And that paired with the stinging fact that jujutsu sorcerers die like flies each and every day…

It’s no wonder his body took a toll on him.

“You’ll stay here for the rest of the week, babe”, you instruct him gently while pulling a blanket up his chest.

“Nah, no chance. I’ll have a pile of work when I get back and-AH.”

It’s frightening, the way he almost chokes while coughing so roughly that it vibrates through your whole body. This doesn’t sound good at all. To be exact, you’ve never seen your husband like this despite the fact that you’ve been together for multiple years by now. If he’s feeling this miserable, it’s definitely time for a break.

“Don’t worry about that. I hold the position while you’re gone.”

Little did he know you meant that.

-a week later-

“It’s far past midnight. Why are you still up, (y/n)?”

His hoarse voice rips you out of your microsleep immediately, lids so heavy they feel like closing by themselves if you don’t pay close attention.

“Oh, just work.”

No, it’s not just work. Apart from the daily drama you have to endure, you made it your mission to complete each and every task your husband would face as soon as he comes back. You know all too well he’ll throw himself fully into work again, not thinking about his own health a single second. And to prevent that, you decided to finish his missions as well, to teach his students, to do anything in your power to prevent Satoru from a pile of work.

Including swollen eyelids, constant grumpy mood, no effort to eat and your shoulders hanging down onto the ground.

You hate to admit it, but you are exhausted. You never realized how much work your husband does during the day. Must be easier for him, though. Teleportation sure sounds nice at the moment…

“I’m worried about you, babe. Are the elders bombarding you with work again? Maybe I need to have a serious talk again-“

“No, don’t think too much about it. I’m just hanging on a bit, that’s it”, you lie.

Oh, Satoru knows it is. After all, you’re talking about yourself. You, so disciplined that you’d never leave work unattended. No, it’s absolutely impossible that you’re “hanging on a bit”. But what else is it? The dark circles underneath your eyes look like valleys in the soft light of a lamp, tired eyes failing to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Usually, this is what you’re doing straight in the morning when he’s still asleep. What keeps you so busy these last days? He has to find out, he-

He almost chokes on himself again, earning a concerned side eye from you. It’s been a week and he’s still sick to the brim. Worry lines decorate your face, palm gently resting against his scorching hot forehead.

“Off to bed with you.”

“Don’t stay up too long, okay? All you seem to do is work these last days”, your husband replies worried himself.

You sigh to yourself. That’s because you do. But leaving your husband to a pile of work after he returns to Jujutsu High only to get sick again? You grab the pen in your hand tighter, force your eyes to fully open. Only a few more days and you’ll be done. After all, you’re doing this for him, right?

Satoru is definitely worth the sleepless nights.

-a few days after-

“Turns out I’m fully back at normal again, babe!”, your husband announces proudly.

You blink against the harsh light of the merciless sun, eyes dry like sand. Only a few hours ago, you returned from a village Satoru was supposed to inspect. Well, minutes turned into hours when a special grade curse appeared out of no where and made your life living hell. The sun already began to rise when you carried yourself back into bed.

But still, you can’t help but smile at him. These last days were rough for him. Him, the strongest, passed out because of a cold. He wasn’t himself all this time, weak body bound into bed with his limbs aching.

“So glad to here that”, you mumble while pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips.

“Sleep in for a while, you look exhausted (y/n). I know you just came back a few hours ago and don’t you dare to lie at me.”

Your eyes widen in an instant, cheeks blushing ever so slightly. You were so careful about leaving and returning, his even and long breaths not giving a single hint that he might be awake.

“I’m heading to Jujutsu High, bet work piled up pretty bad. Wish me good luck and have a good rest princess, I’ll kick their asses if they try to call you!”

With one last loving glance at you, he’s gone. And you can’t help but pass out immediately.

“Guess who’s back to save the day!”, Satoru announces proudly into the room filled with his students and Yaga Masamichi who looks at him with the same disinterest as usual.

“You? Didn’t even know you even exist anymore”, Nobara mumbles while filing down her nails.

“How are you? (y/n) told us you were sick”, Yuji interjects.

“I’m completely back to normal!”

“What a shame”, Megumi mumbles under his breath.

“Sooo, what side of earth do I have to save today? I’m sure a lot of work piled up while I was gone. After all, I’m the strongest.”

Satoru stretches himself playfully, waiting for the director to tell him about all different kinds of missions, curses and teachings he has to deal with these next few days. But instead, he just shrugs his shoulders.

“What? Got nothing to say? Okay, let me guess, what about that special grade curse in the village-“

“Done”, Yaga Masamichi replies dryly.

“The combat training with the first year-“

“Done.”

“Any curses that appeared in Tokyo?”

“Done.”

“Taking care of-“

“Done.”

This can’t be true, the man in front of him has to joke. Apart from you, Satoru is the only special grade sorcerer here at Jujutsu High. No one would ever be able to fulfil some of those missions, let alone teach his students just like that. Not even the director himself is capable of dealing with that special grade curse he was talking about just before Satoru got sick. But who…?

“Didn’t your wife tell you she already managed all those things?”

Oh, he was so stupid that it hurts. All these nights he caught you almost falling asleep on your desk, the multiple times you sneaked out of bed far past midnight, the dark circles under your eyes. All this time, you weren’t only busy with your own missions. No, you actually fulfilled all of his work for him as well.

“Just the amount of work I have to do when I come back. Urgh, being sick sucks.”

“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Yeah, he sure as hell is. But only because you decided to make your own life living hell for two weeks straight.

“Please don’t tell me (y/n) did all of my stuff while I was gone.”

“I’ll never understand how a kind-hearted woman like her ended up with you. She didn’t even stop when I told her to and somehow managed to get information about the missions I prepared for your sick ass”, the director replies dryly.

“Call her in right now.”

Words aren’t enough to thank you for this. No, you deserve way more than that, way more than his mouth could ever give you.

“And let her leave again in about an hour.”

-an hour later-

“Again, sorry for calling you in, (y/n). Now get back home, you’re free tomorrow.”

“Thank you”, is all you’re able to reply, wobbly feet carrying you back into your car and onto the road.

You sigh to yourself. Well, you definitely didn’t expect the director to call you this early when you just returned from an exhausting mission. But who are you to say no to him? After all, it’s your job to do this, it’s your job to protect the innocent.

But…Is it also your job to answer strange questions from your students in the morning?

“Come on, use your brain! You know what the director said!”, Nobara hisses through gritted teeth, the trio sticking their heads together after you were forced to drop your haircare routine to Nobara.

“Ehm...so…well…”

“If you don’t have any further questions, I’ll go-“

“Yes! I have a question!”, Yuji screams so loudly that his voice echoes through your tired brain.

“What is it, Yuji?”, you mutter with your eyes closed.

“How exactly are babies made, (y/n)-san?”

“You’re an idiot…”, Megumi grumbles.

“Really? This is all you have left in your pea-sized brain?”

“What? You just told me to ask her something and that’s what I came up with!”, Yuji defends himself.

“Yeah, but that ‘something’ definitely didn’t include THAT!”

It’s almost as if they were forced to ask you dumb questions. You’ll definitely have a talk with your husband about their strange behaviour when you caught up on sleep. But before that…

You open the door with a swift motion.

Your heart skips a beat, eyes widen.

The usual so modern and clean living-room is now covered in rose pedals and filled with the fresh scent of sakura leaves, your couch unfolded and covered in the most fluffy blankets, pillows and stuffed animals you’re ever seen. And there he sits.

He, your beloved husband, holding up your bathrobe oh so inviting.

“What’s going on here?”, you breathe out.

Suddenly, all the exhaustion you felt earlier disappeared into thin air. Did he really do all of this for you? The candles flickering, the blankets, the strawberries covered in chocolate waiting on the table, him wearing that black t-shirt you love so much.

“Guess what, I found out what you did. Did you really think you’ll get away with stealing my work in silence?”, he teases, love dripping from each and every word he says.

“It was nothing”, you try to brush him off.

But instead, he gets up and grabs your hand in order to guide you into the dim bathroom that is only lightened by a few candles. Again, the lovely smell of sakura leaves radiates from the bathtub filled with bubbles and hot steam. Just the thought of letting yourself sink into that warm water, to finally release the tension in your sore muscles-

Before you’re even able to comprehend what’s happening, Satoru took off your clothes and lifts you off the ground with ease. Your body doesn’t dare to fight back, too weak from all the missions you completed these last days. Just the tip of your toe, relaxing in the water for a few minutes before returning to Jujutsu High…

“Nothing, huh? So you mean doing the stuff I need a month for in two weeks besides your own missions is nothing? Words can’t express how thankful I am to have such a sweet, caring and steaming hot wife”, he whispers against your ear, his fingers starting to massage your back oh so skilled.

You allow yourself to sink into his touch, to rest your eyes for a few minutes. Well, there is no denying in the fact that this was a little too much for you. All the fighting, the paper work, the heart and soul you poured in each and every work.

And then there’s him. Satoru, your beloved husband, who massages your back with his skilled fingers. How lucky you are to call him your husband, that he decided to spend the rest of his life with you. Even though he scolded you ever so slightly for managing his pile of work, you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. What a treasure, how glad you are to know him, how wonderful he is…

“(y/n)?”, Satoru purrs against your ear.

You don’t response, chest rising and falling slow and steady. He can’t help but smile to himself, admiring he beauty of your finally resting face. Carefully, he lifts you out of the bathtub and covers your body in the fluffy bathrobe you love so much. You definitely deserve some rest for all the work you did these last days.

He can’t help but gently caress your cheek, making sure you’re completely tucked you underneath your favourite blanket.

“What a lucky man I am”, he mutters to himself while outlining your parted lips.

“To call someone so wonderful my wife…”

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix

@lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete

@gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3

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@darkstarlight82 @satoreo @tachiharazsstuff @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @komelrebi-san @deezy12299 @okay-it-is-ivy

(this took me forever so if I tagged u be so kind and leave a like/comment/reblog lol)

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