#but i agree with you about the desk

[ftmsteveraglan]

hi i saw u we're hunting for william fic recd and can i just get like a bratty career counselor client? like steve raglan/william bc mm that desk brother ‼️

i like the way you think! hope this delivers!

contains: gender neutral reader, aggressive dom william, sub reader, blowing him under the desk

you knew you were in trouble from the moment you entered the room.

maybe it was the look on mr. raglan's face when he saw you sit before him for the third time that month. maybe it was the exasperated sigh that escaped his lips upon seeing you. or maybe it was the way he shook his head like a disappointed dad. either way, you were already on edge by the time you sat down.

mr. raglan looked from you, down to your file in his hand, then back up to you. "you're just a glutton for punishment, it seems."

he sighed and threw the file down on his desk with a smack. "this is the fourth time you've been in my office in the past two months," he said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "i have other clients waiting on me, yet you keep coming in here and wasting my time. i mean, seriously, are you even trying at this point? it took you, what, two weeks to get fired from your last job?"

"a week and a half," you corrected him, your expression dangerously confident for someone in your position.

mr. raglan raised an eyebrow, his eyes wide with incredulity. "excuse me?" he asked.

you knew what you were doing. this was exactly what you wanted.

"i said," you spoke up, straightening your posture and leaning forward to meet his eye, "it took me a week and a half to get fired from my last job."

mr. raglan's expression shifted as he leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows up on the desk. he squinted slightly and turned his head, analyzing you, like a snake waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"you know what i think?" he asked, his voice hissing out from between his teeth. "i think you keep getting fired because you have no respect. you don't care what people tell you, do you?"

with a smug look on your face, you leaned back in your chair and kicked your feet up on his desk, shoving some papers aside with your shoe. "you tell me," you retorted.

that seemed to set mr. raglan off. for a moment, you thought he might move around the desk and grab you with how quickly he stood up from his chair. as soon as anger flashed over his face, however, it vanished, replaced with a hard glint in his eye.

"i think it's time you learned some respect," mr. raglan said, sitting back down in his chair and reaching for his belt. "looks like i'll have to be the one to teach you."

your mouth began to water as mr. raglan leaned back in his chair and reached into his pants. you'd been fantasizing about somehow getting with him ever since you'd first met him for job counseling, but now, as he freed his cock from his boxers, you couldn't believe this was happening. his cock was bigger than you'd anticipated, thick and veiny, already dripping precum. his steely gaze fixed onto you as he jerked himself off without a care in the world.

"now here's what you're gonna do," mr. raglan said. "we have twenty minutes left in our session. for wasting my time, you're gonna get under this desk, and i'm gonna put that smart mouth of yours to good use. now, come on. i don't have all day."

you moved almost as in a trance around his desk, getting down on your knees in front of him to fit under his desk. mr. raglan patted one thigh, and you quickly moved between his legs, eager to taste your prize. you didn't hesitate to lick his cock from base to tip, precum salty on your tongue, before wrapping your lips around the tip, teasing the slit. mr. raglan groaned in satisfaction as you began to take him further and further into your mouth. he sank his fingers into your hair, lightly tugging on your scalp as you hollowed your cheeks, humming around his length.

"that's it, just like that," mr. raglan praised. "just keep going." he chuckled weakly, then said, "keep doing that, and i'll do a little something for you in return."

you could feel heat blooming in your belly at the prospect, and you started to suck him off with a renewed gusto.

this was going much, much better than you'd hoped.

[electoons]

I'm gonna kms someone at work got me sick. and it's my BIRTHDAY

[tacagen]

hunter zolomon, what in the ever loving fuck is going on in your head.

i absolutely fucking love the way he spent so much time working with thawne, had access to every single bit of info in the museum's archives, claims to be an even better flash expert than thawne, SURELY has to KNOW how much of a time altering genius he is from numerous examples (and i doubt any of the 2 epic cringefails are now known to anyone but thawne himself) but still questions eobard's intellectual abilities even more than me here.

hunter. bestie. please name one single thing you were right about besides the clown. please

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

.

[jonny-b-meowborn]

I really miss doing art and I think at this point I've mostly recovered from being overworked with my diploma, I wish I had a desk* so I could draw without having to hold my laptop on my lap and completely busting my spine and knees and wrists

*I do have a desk that belongs to me but my brother keeps occupying it, and if I leave the room for literally more than five minutes while my laptop is on said desk, he will remove it and put his own laptop on the desk

[froggi-mushroom]

Almost fucking killed a man in history

[soleilapproves]

Older boyfriend Price who is absolutely DISTRAUGHT over the fact that you don’t care about marriage because you think he’s over it.

Note: this one has no smut but it has mentions of sex and sexual relations so interact at your own discretion.

Masterlist

“What the fuck do you mean by you don’t want to?” If Price had been any louder, anyone outside his car would’ve been able to hear him.

It had been a few months into your relationship with Price after almost a year of being friends with benefits. You weren’t sure how your arrangement changed over time but you were glad to be with him as he valued you a lot.

“I mean, think about it. You’re like, what? 40-“

“I’m 37, love”

��Right, yeah, I just think that it doesn’t really matter as long as we’re having fun together. Honestly, I thought you’d agree,” you said before taking a bite out of your burger.

Price could only watch you in shock. Sure, your relationship started on the basis of sexual benefits but when he did think of the future all he thought of was you. Even if you were a generation younger than him, he had never felt such synergy with anyone before. It was a connection of a lifetime - emotional and sexual.

“So you don’t give a shit about marriage because you think I don’t care about it.”

“Kind of. If I’m gonna get married I need my partner to be on board too, don’t you think?” He sighed at your reply. You looked up at him, confused and cheeks full with your dinner as you grabbed the plastic cup of coke.

His heart swelled at the sight. It was like looking at an innocent chipmunk. To think that the same face looked fucked out an hour ago awed him but he couldn’t let himself get distracted by your unintentional seduction.

He grabbed your drink and put it back in the cupholder. You were about to whine but he grabbed your face and pulled you close, noses almost touching.

“You-“ peck “-are the most wonderful thing to happen to me and I’ll be damned if I don’t tie you down with me in the future.”

Your face heated up. You had swallowed your food not too long ago but your mouth felt like it had gone dry.

With your face in his hands he continued. “I’ll have a rock on your pretty little finger before you know it.” He left a longer peck on your lips this time and pulled away.

What you didn’t know was that he already had a ring for you. It was stored away in a hidden drawer in his desk, waiting to be worn by you.

In fact, he had brought it just a month into your relationship. He wasn’t religious but he knew that a person like you was the blessing of a lifetime.

[metranart]

Imagine Gojo setting a condition to his Clan for him to give them an heir. "It's HER or no one." The elders aren't happy that he chose a non-sorcerer, but they reluctantly agree... that is, if Gojo manages to convince you.

“Come here-...I’m far from done, kitten.”

God, Gojo still makes you nervous, with his mouth buried between your legs for longer than you can even imagine. Why are you still so nervous? Is it the proximity? Is it the way he leans in to make eye contact while he licks you? Is it those blue piercing eyes? Or that immensely amused smirk that twists his lips just enough so he can keep eating you out?

"Mmmmm... stop moving so much, (Y/N). We are making a mess of my desk..." he purrs, all too pleased to watch your eyes roll to the back of your skull. "That’s my good girl..." the man between your legs, praises, "my future bride to be...-"

"T-...that's still u-...under discussion, S-Satoru." Your quivering protests are sweet chords of music for him, "I already t-.... told you that I d-don't want to be part of the jujutsu world.... nor b-belong to a-.... any clan."

"Not any clan, pretty. MY clan." 

You hear him slurp greedily at your folds and feel a warm trick of saliva run down your ass, and when your mouth is about to throw another protest-... Satoru Gojo makes a vacuum on your quivering clit with that annoying mouth of his. Your thighs tense and the muscles of your stomach follow, a quake that rakes your entire form, making you a pathetic mock of a human.

Both your hands fly to cover your mouth and Satoru chuckles deep, amused rumble that cracks the rest of your self-control. Your cheeks grow in the most adorable shade of pink, and your breathing hastens.

"So CUTE~"

Satoru whimpers, dumb founded, his broad chest puffing with so much fervor, so much blinding endearment that he feels like about to explode. He can see the doubt in your beautifully contorted features, and he dips his tongue inside you, fucking you with that fat tongue to try to make you agree to his terms, to be HIS.

Dammit! You feel… amaaaaaazing. Why? It’s like a flip inside you only he can switch at will—... even so, he’s dangerous, you remember. He’s a special grade sorcerer, you remember. He’s a mystery, he’s unpredictable—he’s invincible, unreadable, impenetrable and lethal with a playful smile, and you really know absolutely nothing about him. 

Yet, he insists that you belong together. He insists on putting his child inside you, he insists that he will take care of you and his life will be yours. He insists that you belong in his world and if you're not there, he won't be there either. He insists on fucking you stupid every chance he gets, bending you over surfaces, of course! Always putting his coat or his shirt or any piece of his clothing, just so your skin never comes into contact with any unworthy surface. He insists, he insists and insists and insists...

“Fuck—” he growls, grabbing your hips, “—why are you... h-how do you manage to always have me wrapped around your little finger—?” 

“I want you, Satoru-u... but I can't-” 

He stops you with a soft but firm, squeeze to your waist. 

“Not like this,” he pants, tipping his head to slowly lick a strip down your sweet cunt, a farewell caress, the whisper of a kiss to his last effort before lunch time is over and he can try again, later. “Let me pretend just for a little longer that you said yes—"

Your gaze drops to his trembling thighs and the warmth that settles in the pit of your tummy is intensified by the clear drop of precum shining at the tip of his gloriously thick and long cock, now achingly swollen and a mouthwatering shade darker in color than the rest of him.  

“I'm yours, Satoru-” you offer in a quiet whisper and can feel him shake his head. “You aren't.... but I’ll make you change your mind. You, just watch me, kitten."

➡️ 👀 NSFW Sneak Peek artwork HERE ;)

➡️ FULL NSFW ART of this story

[evermoreal]

price would be strangely possessive over his assistant.

referring to her as things that really aren’t work appropriate at all. “swee’eart,” “dolly,” “sugar.” once, a “baby” slipped through his teeth, but he was switching the subject before she could really catch on.

it’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it was he started tacking “my” in front of his pet names. “my angel,” “my love.”

even when she wasn’t in the room — it was impossible to know he was talking about a colleague with the way he spoke about her. “my woman’s always on my case abou’ shit like that — cholesterol levels, sugar intake. fuckin’ bullshit, but i do it to make ‘er happy.” or “can’t stay long, lads — got my lady waitin’ on me.”

in the summer months, her skirts get a bit shorter and her tops a bit tighter. he doesn’t blame her, the AC is shit and the heat can be suffocating. what does bother him, though, is the way his men ogle her as they stroll past her desk. how they’re coming up with excuses to visit her throughout the day.

it’s an easy enough fix. “why don’t ye come work in my office for the day, lovey?” he’s already collecting her paperwork. “keep an old man company, would ye? i’ve got a nice little fan too, keep ye nice an’ cool.”

though the job came with benefits, perhaps more than an assistant should be getting, price didn’t think it was enough. when her phone started to slow and the screen cracked, he left a new one on her desk. didn’t bother mentioning it came out of his paycheque. if she complains about her outfit — all my good clothes are in the wash — he’ll take her shopping, doesn’t let her worry about the totals. and, hey, if they end up at a lingerie shop, no one has to know, right? he’s just being a good boss. it’s only crossing a few boundaries when he gets her to model it for him in the fitting rooms. when she disappears behind the curtain, john adjusts himself in his slacks — it’s a natural reaction. on that note, it would make too much of a fuss if he were to correct the worker when she asks if his wife needs any help.

when day turns to night and she’s refusing price’s suggestion of hitting another shop, he pulls into a nearby restaurant, insists on treating her to a glass of wine to end the night. finding out she’s a lightweight is a pleasant discovery — two glasses in and her skin is warm to the touch, she’s giggling and hanging onto his every word. he likes her like this, he decides — but it’s not safe to leave her alone. no, she should stay with him tonight. another few sips and she’s agreeing, changing into one of her new lingerie sets and falling into john’s bed, dozing off with his hand splayed over her tummy, beard tickling the back of her neck.

it’s been too long since he’s had a woman in his life. his wires have gotten a bit crossed. you can’t blame him, can you?

edit! here’s more <3

[hoothootmotherf-ckers]

can people please stop filming the entire fucking world around them for public consumption? and especially random fucking strangers who you did not ask???

I work at a park and man the front desk. and I'm photographed and filmed a lot. I'm talking easily 20+ times per day. most of the times, it's parents filming me swearing in their kids as junior rangers. which. they're intending to film their kids. what they get is me and the back of their kids' heads.

there's this recurring problem that like. people forget we're real people? like yeah you're filming your kid, but you're filming me interacting with your kid. I could count the amount of times someone has asked me permission to do this in the past year on one hand. and sometimes that's after they already start filming.

Like, I'm not an actor. I did not agree to this. You could be a dick and make the argument that I'm a public figure, but I'm not. This is not a persona and my uniform is not a costume. I'm a person trying to do my job and help people and teach them about science and history. And you know what makes it harder to do that? The knowledge that anything I say or do could end up shared with thousands of people. The fact that if I fuck up the wording of this kid's junior ranger pledge, or I sneeze, or make some basic mistake, it's not just a funny or embarrassing moment for me and this one family. It could end up on tiktok.

And okay, those are the people intending to film their own kids and not thinking or caring about the collateral. What's worse is the people who film everything. A few times a week some guy walks into the visitor center, phone already horizontal in front of their face, narrating what they're doing and seeing. They come up to the desk and ask me questions, phone in my face. They take wide establishing shots of the visitor center and every visitor in it. None of us agreed to this! None of these people consented to be in your youtube video! We are not the fucking set dressing of whatever travel instagram story you're making!

I don't know where I'm going with this. This is really only the tip of the iceberg. Sometimes people ask us to repeat what we just did - swear in their kid, or explain a detail, or hand them a fucking map - so they can get a second take, and they're already filming so if we say no we look like the asshole. Sometimes we're asked innocuous things like to point out a landmark, and next week there's a photo of us in the 15,000 member Rangers Pointing at Things facebook group (yep, real thing). One time my entire 45 minute evening program was filmed without my permission and I was informed after the fact. This happens all the time, and I'm giving park ranger examples, but this happens to so many people in service work or public positions every single fucking day.

I guess just, next time you go to film in a public space, take a second. Think about who you're about to film, if they agreed to that, what might happen if a video of them went viral. there's a reason I'm not out as trans at work. And then, maybe. don't. or at least fucking ask.

[rosiereveries]

Thinking about CEO!John Price who has to participate in secret Santa and absolutely hates the idea of getting someone a gift. That is until he accidentally picks your name from the Santa hat. You are his new secretary, and he absolutely adores you. He's been thinking about getting you gifts for long time, and now he has the perfect opportunity. He ignores the 25 pounds limit, that everyone agreed on. Price buys you some expensive perfume and jewelry, because his girl deserves the absolute best.

When you open your present at the Christmas party you are shocked. You immediately know that it must be from him. And when you look at John he just smiles and tells you that his good girl deserves it. Later after a few glasses of Christmas punch you go to him, trying to give him the gifts back, saying that you need to repay him. Lucky you, he can be convinced to some kind of repayment. Especially in his office after everyone is gone. With you bend over his desk and his mouth next to your ear asking about your birthday and other opportunities for him to buy you gifts. Just don't tell the HR and everyone will be happy.

I just know that Price love language is giving gifts.

Part two | Part three Masterlist

[thewingedwolf]

i want to not be on duloxetine bc the side effects are just insane to try to deal with, i feel like i’m in a fog of pain if i’m even two hours late taking my meds and even taking them on time i still deal with drowsiness and nausea and not wanting to eat constantly but if i try to go off of it, even if i’m really careful, the fog and the lightning shocks will just get worse and i physically cannot function while in withdrawal, it is a pain i can’t even describe, so i’m just stuck on this god awful medication forever because it’s the only one that’s ever even vaguely helped and no one fucking warned me that being on duloxetine is hell on earth until i had been on it for years.

[sugoroo]

SHARING IS CARING!

ʚɞ summary: satoru agrees to share his girlfriend with kento for one night to help ease some of the stress he’s been under lately! but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy for his co-worker.

warnings: fem!reader, voyeurism, cuck!satoru, oral (m receiving), breast play, penetration (p in v), fingering, pussydrunk nanami, squirting, praise kink, 18+ minors dni.

wc: 7.1k

despite how much satoru enjoys teasing his co-worker kento nanami, he can see how much stress the other man has been under lately. it’s clear from the heavy bags underneath his eyes, the way his back is almost permanently hunched in exhaustion.

the white-haired sorcerer spent an embarrassingly long amount of time in his office brainstorming different ideas to attempt to cheer nanami up. his usual go-to for anyone else would be to buy them some sweets, but he has a feeling that wouldn’t be too appreciated in this situation.

and then, after his phone buzzed with a newly received text from you: his pretty little girlfriend who was currently waiting for him at home — a lightbulb lit up in his head.

he could give you to nanami to cheer him up.

well, when he says ‘give’, of course he really means lending you to nanami. a one-time only gift (that must be returned after use) as it were.

and satoru will unarguably be present to observe the entire interaction too — he has to make sure nanami treats his sweet girl the way she deserves, after all. if the other man was to leave you unsatisfied, he would very possibly have to hollow purple him.

(and he also wouldn’t be completely opposed to watching his much-too-uptight co worker unravel before his eyes, either. but he’ll keep that part to himself.)

pleased with his newest idea, satoru practically skips along the halls on the way to nanami's office, a wide grin stretched across his lips and anticipation buzzing throughout his body.

"hellooo, nanamin!" he coos obnoxiously once he arrives outside his co-worker's office, craning his neck to peek his head around the doorway. "you in here?"

nanami audibly sighs at the sound of the white-haired man's voice, glancing up briefly from his desk with an unimpressed look pulling at his visibly exhausted features. "yes, gojo, i'm clearly in here. what is it you want this time?"

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender, his grin never faltering as he steps fully inside the office. it's clear he's up to no good (even more so than usual), given the way he's practically vibrating on the spot with excitement.

"well?" the blonde man prompts impatiently, his eyes already cast back down to the various piles of paperwork splayed across his desk. he's evidently in no mood to deal with satoru's mischief.

"now now, don't rush me!" he huffs in response, his lower lip jutting out in an overdramatic pout despite knowing nanami isn't even looking in his direction right now. "this is a very... sensitive topic. so i'm gonna need you to pay suuuper close attention. got it?"

at this, nanami looks up from his papers, his annoyance slowly morphing into cautiousness. "sensitive how? this better not be about you wanting to know how many people i've bedded in the past, because i already told you that i will never dignify such a shameless question with an answer."

"what? no! it's not about that," satoru chuckles amusedly, before tapping the bottom of his chin with a slender finger in a theatrical display of thought. "....although, i really should find out the answer to that eventually."

nanami rolls his eyes all the way to the back of his head behind his goggles, bringing two fingers up to rub his temple. "i don't have time for this, gojo. whatever it is you came here to ask, will you just spit it out already?"

"alright, alriiight!" the white-haired sorcerer whines petulantly, sauntering further into the office and leaning his elbows against his co-worker's desk like he owns the place. "so, i've noticed you've been under a lot of stress lately—"

"which is none of your business, might i add." the other man deadpans bluntly, his lips set into their usual tight line as he regards satoru.

"sure. but, as your co-worker and friend, i've decided to make it my business," he retorts without missing a beat, waving a pale hand dismissively in nanami's direction as he continues speaking. "and i've come up with the perfect solution to cheer you up!"

nanami raises a blonde eyebrow at this, visibly still cautious but (hopefully) a little curious now. "oh, have you now?" he mutters tightly, attempting to hide the subtle interest hiding under his tone. but satoru notices, because of course he does.

"mhmm," satoru croons mischievously, his grin morphing into a little smirk as he leans further across the desk. "would you like to hear it, nanamin?"

the interest in his colleague's expression is gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by irritation yet again as he releases a deep sigh. "i'm not in the mood for your games, gojo. are you going to tell me or not?"

"ugh, fine," the white-haired man groans dramatically, rolling his eyes behind his blindfold. "can't blame a guy for trying to build up a little suspense."

satoru rifles around in his pocket for a few moments before pulling out his phone, instantly thrusting the device directly into nanami's face with absolutely no context.

"what—" nanami begins, his words quickly trailing off into an unintelligible sound of some description once he catches sight of the picture being displayed on his colleague's lock screen. "oh."

"like what you seee?" he coos obnoxiously from behind the phone, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to get a better view of the other man's reaction. "just kidding - i know you do."

"this... is that your girlfriend?" the blonde man croaks out, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically flustered. "and why is that your lockscreen, for the love of god?"

satoru just shrugs nonchalantly, jerking the phone back towards himself and taking a moment to admire the photo of you. it's your pretty body, completely bare on his bed, perky breasts on full display and smooth legs spread wide to reveal your abused pussy which was just oozing with ropes of his goopy cum.

"yes, it's my girlfriend," he hums proudly, shoving the device back into his pocket before fixing nanami with another wide grin. "and why not? it's not like anyone else sees it except me. until now, obviously."

"right," the other man breathes out, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly in a poor attempt to try and compose himself. "and, pray tell, why did you feel the need to show me that?"

satoru huffs dramatically, as if having to actually explain the proposition he's come up with is taking a serious toll on him. "come onn, nanamin. use that brilliant brain of yours! i say i have a way to relieve some of your stress, and then i show you that picture..."

nanami visibly tenses as the realization of what his colleague is suggesting washes over him, his eyes narrowing into cautious slits. but he doesn't want to get ahead of himself, just in case he misinterpreted his words, so he settles for saying — "is this another one of those highly unamusing pranks of yours, gojo?"

the white-haired man rolls his eyes yet again, leaning even closer over the desk and tilting his head to the side in a playful manner. "you really think i'd show you a naked picture of my girl if this was just a prank?"

as much as it irks nanami to admit, even to himself, his co-worker does has a point there.

"touché." he grumbles under his breath, trying his best to keep up his uninterested façade despite how obviously affected he is by seeing that picture of you; needless to say, he thinks satoru is a very lucky man.

"that's all you're gonna say? touché?" satoru repeats incredulously, throwing his hands up in the air theatrically. "no 'yes please, gojo, i'd love to get me some of that'?"

"first of all, i would never say it so crudely," the blonde man retorts with his nose wrinkled in not-so-subtle disgust, shaking his had faintly. "and second of all, i'm not the sort of man who takes what doesn't belong to him."

satoru snorts out a loud laugh at this. "ugh, drop the serious act for a minute, nanamin! it's not like you're stealing her away from me or anything. i'm just offering some... one-time only stress relief, that's all."

"whatever you say, gojo," he mutters dismissively, waving a hand in his direction before rubbing his temple yet again. "even if i was to consider such a proposition, have you asked your girlfriend if she would be willing to participate?"

"yeah, sooo, about that..." satoru responds in an elongated hum, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly.

"satoru—"

"wait, wait! just let me explain," the white-haired man squeaks hurriedly, waving around his hands theatrically. the rare use of his first name from his colleague clearly shows just how annoyed he is at this point. "i was so excited when i came up with the idea that i kinda-maybe-definitely forgot to ask her."

"why am i not surprised?" nanami huffs bluntly, clearly losing whatever interest he may have begrudgingly gained when he saw the photo.

but just before he can return to his work, satoru quickly speaks up again. "hey, wait just a minute! she's my girl, and i know my girl. she'll say yes."

nanami pauses for a few moments, silently cursing the way he's actually considering this insane proposition. but there's two facts he can't deny — one: he has been under a lot of stress lately, and he wouldn't exactly mind releasing it. and two: satoru's girlfriend is incredibly attractive.

much to his chagrin, he doesn't have a good reason to say no.

"...alright."

and that's how kento nanami finds himself standing outside your and satoru's apartment a week later, his fist hovering just above the door as he attempts to process what's awaiting him on the other side.

he can't quite believe he's actually going to 'release his stress' by using satoru's pretty little girlfriend who he's never even met before today. but he knows that not going through with it isn't an option — especially when he'll have to endure his colleague's relentless teasing afterwards.

so he knocks.

and it's you who opens the door, dressed in nothing but one of satoru's old shirts that is definitely much too long for you, the baggy fabric practically swallowing you whole as you stand before nanami.

"oh!" you gasp in realization as you look up at him, a small smile spreading across your lips as you kindly extend a hand to the man in front of you. "you must be kento! toru's told me a lot about you."

nanami, much to his own embarrassment, takes a few long moments to recover from the sight of you. somehow, you're even more beautiful in person than you were in that photo on his co-worker's lockscreen (despite being much more... clothed now.)

"ahem. yes, that's me," he murmurs after swallowing roughly, taking your hand in his own to give it a quick shake. he tries not to let his eyes linger too long on the size difference between them; how your hand practically disappears beneath his. "all good things, i hope?"

"oh, of course." you chuckle softly, stepping to the side and opening the door a little wider in a silent initiation for him to come inside. this is it — his last chance to just blow this whole thing off and drive home.

but he doesn't take that chance.

instead, he shuffles inside with a polite smile in your direction, pulling his other hand from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers he'd bought on the way over here; he wasn't exactly sure what was an appropriate gift for someone else's girlfriend who was going to let him have sex with her, so he settled for some simple roses.

you close the door behind the two of you, your eyes widening when they fall on the flowers. how very... gentlemanly. you hadn't expected him to bring any type of present tonight — from what you'd gathered from satoru, this was going to be a very transactional exchange.

"sorry... is this too forward?" nanami mutters a little awkwardly, toying with the petal of one of the roses. "if you don't want them, i can go put them back in my—"

"no, no! they're beautiful," you say quickly, grasping the bouquet from him with a warm smile stretching across your lips. "it's really sweet of you. i just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

the blonde man seems to relax slightly at this, his tensed shoulders slowly deflating and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. it's clear he's never done anything like this before; but then again, neither have you.

but when satoru had come to you with the idea of helping out his thoroughly overworked colleague and friend, who also happened to be quite handsome (in your boyfriend's words), you couldn't help but agree.

and satoru definitely underestimated kento's appearance with that measly description. he's more than quite handsome — he's gorgeous, with those well-kempt blonde locks and that ridiculously sharp jawline that could probably cut glass.

...let's just say you're not having any last minute regrets about agreeing to this.

"so, how about you go and make yourself comfortable in the living room while i put these in some water?" you suggest kindly, gesturing to doorway on the left as you head in the direction of the kitchen with the bouquet in your hands.

nanami nods in agreement, ducking his head to fit underneath the doorframe as he saunters into the living room of your apartment. it's cozy and small, with little trinkets that just scream satoru gojo scattered around the area.

of course that man has to make even his living room as chaotic as he is.

he plops down onto the couch, his still somewhat tense body sinking into the comfortable material. he feels more relaxed already than he has in months — it must be something to do with the warm atmosphere in your home (or the promise of what's to come.)

his respite doesn't last for long, however, because satoru comes bounding down the stairs, his blindfold askew and his grin wide when he notices nanami sitting there in his living room. "heyyy, nanamin! you're actually here! i figured you'd chicken out last minute, honestly."

the blonde man rolls his eyes behind his goggles, shooting his colleague a thoroughly unimpressed look in response to his statement; as if he hadn't just been considering 'chickening out', as gojo put it, moments ago outside the front door.

but he doesn't have to know that.

"well, i didn't." he settles for sighing bluntly, raising a neatly trimmed eyebrow when satoru drapes himself across the couch next to him like an oversized cat, practically taking up every inch of spare space.

"what's that look for?" satoru snickers obnoxiously, slinging his lanky legs over nanami's lap as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "this is my house you're in right now, remember? i can do what i want."

before nanami can even think of replying, you start padding into the room, shooting your boyfriend what can only be described as a disapproving look. "toru, stop harassing our guest."

the white-haired man lets out a petulant whine in response, grasping your hips as soon as you draw close enough and pulling you down onto his lap. he buries his face in your neck, grumbling. "i'm not harassing him, baby! it's just our usual banter. riiight, nanamin?"

"right." he chuckles lightly, exchanging an amused glance with you over satoru's head at the other man's antics. he's more like a young, whiny child than a full grown adult; especially when he acts like this.

"hey, stop smiling at him!" satoru huffs overdramatically in protest, looking up at you from your neck with one of his bright blue eyes peeking out from under his blindfold. "you're supposed to be on my side, pretty girl."

"i am on your side, silly," you say with fond exasperation, bringing a hand up to ruffle his messy white locks affectionately. "are you seriously mad at me for getting along with your friend?"

"no, i guess not." he grumbles in response, nuzzling his face back into your skin like a beloved pet would do to its owner.

nanami can't help but find it fascinating how the strongest sorcerer and most popular teacher at jujutsu tech seems to completely melt in your presence — there must be something really special about you, and he feels honoured to be allowed to have you for himself; even if only for one night.

"so— uh, how does this... work?" the blonde man asks curiously after clearing his throat, looking between you and the manchild snuggling you in his lap with a carefully questioning gaze.

satoru giggles at this, turning his head to give nanami an obnoxiously teasing wink. "how does me letting you hit this..." he drawls playfully, his hand traveling down from your hip to lightly squeeze your ass. "...work, nanamin?"

nanami almost chokes on his own salvia in response to his colleague's blunt wording, but somehow he manages to compose himself (just). "...yes, i suppose. if you insist on being so lewd about it."

you let out a small chuckle at this, swatting your boyfriend's hand away from your ass and giving him a chiding look, to which he just shrugs innocently.

"i think it should be up to you, kento," you hum thoughtfully, resting your chin on satoru's head and peering over at the blonde man with an encouraging smile. "how would you like this to work?"

"ah, well..." nanami begins, finding his brain seems to have short-circuited at your suggestion. he gets to choose how he has you? jesus, how is even supposed to form a single coherent sentence with you smiling at him like that?

"oh, come onn, nanamin!" satoru whines, raising one of his legs from the other man's lap to kick at his chest with one of his socked feet. "want me to give you some ideas? hmm... how about you start with her perfect little mouth? it works wonders, y'know!"

nanami lets a choked sound escape from somewhere in the back of his throat at this, his wide eyes shooting to you for any signs of hesitance. but he finds none, no — you're still smiling at him in such a friendly way, as if your boyfriend isn't signing you up to suck another man off right in front of him.

"is that— can i... are you sure?" he stammers awkwardly, suddenly feeling like an inexperienced teenager rather than a fully grown man.

"it's fine with me," you say sweetly, each word so thick and honeyed, making nanami's head start to go a little hazy. he can already feel his trousers starting to grow uncomfortably tight just from the direction this conversation is going in. "would you like that, kento?"

"would i—" nanami swallows thickly, stopping his words before they can come out sounding too eager. "yes... yes, i believe i would."

satoru grins widely at his co-worker's admission, effortlessly lifting you up from his lap and placing you on the floor in front of the couch. you crawl the rest of the way across the carpet, coming to perch between nanami's manspread legs.

the blonde man audibly gulps when you bring your hands up to his thighs, shifting just a little on the chair to try and hide how much his body is reacting to your proximity.

"phewww... look at him, baby," satoru whistles amusedly with a mischievous smirk as he watches the interaction, obnoxiously pointing to the growing tent in nanami's slacks. "so worked up already."

you tut lightly, shooting another disapproving look in your boyfriend's direction. "stop teasing him, toru. he's probably just touch-starved."

"something you wouldn't understand, gojo," nanami pushes out through gritted teeth, trying his best to keep up his usual collected demeanour even when he feels your fingers graze over his bulge. "not when you have such a sweet little thing waiting for you at home everyday."

"hm. now that is true," the white-haired man hums in agreement, reaching over nanami's lap to give your hair a gentle, loving stroke. "my girl always knows how to keep me satisfied."

you smile warmly up at satoru, leaning your head into his touch slightly while your hand squeezes around his colleague's clothed erection — and, shit. you can tell just how big he is even through these tight trousers.

you've really got your work cut out for you here.

satoru is quick to help you out, grasping a cushion from the couch and leaning down to slide it underneath your knees to make the position more comfortable for you. ugh, your boyfriend is just so considerate— but tonight isn't about him. focus!

with better support on the floor, you reach up to pop open the button on the front of nanami's slacks, looking up at him through your lashes; and, god, he looks absolutely wrecked already. his cheeks are flushed a light shade of pink, and his goggle-clad eyes are staring anywhere but you.

despite how stoic he always was in satoru's descriptions of him, right now... kento nanami looks utterly adorable.

unzipping his fly, the only barrier between you and his monster of an aching cock is his expensive-looking boxers. and while at this point with satoru you'd usually do a little teasing, you figure with nanami, it's better to cut straight to the chase.

he clearly needs it.

so you dip your nails under the waistband of his underwear, carefully tugging it down to reveal your boyfriend's colleague in all of his touch-starved glory; cock just giant as it slaps against his clothed abdomen, all veiny and curved as the reddened tip leaks onto the couch.

"woww, nanamin!" satoru croons obnoxiously, fanning himself with his hand as if he's a prim and proper lady about to collapse from shock. "how big you are."

"do you really have to be here for this?" the blonde man retorts, shooting a glare so deadly in his friend's direction that if looks could kill... your boyfriend definitely would be six feet under.

"oh, absolutely," he drawls back without missing a beat, smirking smugly as he crosses his legs against nanami's lap, as if watching his girlfriend prepare to give his co-worker a blowjob is the most normal situation possible. "i'll be here the whooole time. better get used to it."

rolling your eyes at satoru's relentless teasing, you opt to distract nanami from the white-haired sorcerer's interjections by wrapping a hand around his bare length (let it be noted that you definitely cannot fit his entire girthy base in your grip.)

nanami lets out a raspy, broken groan at the contact, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he tries to keep himself together. but the way his cock visibly jumps under your touch doesn't go unnoticed by you or satoru.

"relax for me, kento," you coo sweetly, giving him a light squeeze to make sure he's paying attention to your words. "gonna make you feel good, yeah?"

he can only release a few incoherent mumbles in response, his head falling back against the couch when you start to languidly stroke him, moving your hand from tip to base with well-practised movements.

"fuck, that's so hot," satoru groans as he shifts a little closer to get a better view of you working his uptight colleague with your fist, his own sweatpants starting to visibly tent too. "keep going, pretty girl."

you smile again at the praise, your thighs rubbing together subtly underneath satoru's baggy shirt. but he notices it, because of course he does, he knows your body's reactions like the back of his hand. "see that, nanamin? she loves it when you praise her. i hope you're taking mental notes right now."

nanami can only watch in awe as you lean down to press your soft lips to the leaking tip of his cock, his brain completely scrambled already from only a few touches. jesus, he can't believe he almost didn't agree to take part in this; he’s silently thanking his past self for having the confidence to go through with it right now.

"that's... you're doing good— so good." he pushes out, the words more of a garbled mess than anything as his toned hips involuntarily buck lightly into your hand, in search of more and more friction.

a small, satisfied hum spills from your lips at the praise, your tongue instinctively flicking out to lap at the pearlescent rivulets of pre-cum just streaming from his pudgy tip.

it’s not as sweet as satoru’s — it has a bit more of a salty tang. but it’s not exactly unpleasant either, and you find yourself digging the tip of your tongue into his slit to gather more of the interesting new flavour.

"ah!" nanami gasps loudly, the sound escaping from him without permission. his eyes fly open to fall squarely on you as you start suckling on his tip, finding himself being rendered completely speechless at the way you’re making him feel already — and you’ve only just started.

he’s in for a long night.

“yeahh, she’s good, isn’t she?” satoru croons proudly from beside him, reminding nanami of his presence yet again. but he can’t bring himself to be too mad at his colleague when he’s giving him access to his perfect girlfriend with such a sweet mouth.

“mhm,” the blonde man grunts out, his head rolling to the side slightly. he quickly shuts his eyes, not wanting to catch sight of satoru while he’s receiving such intense pleasure; the last thing he wants is to ruin his upcoming orgasm. “you’re a lu— ah, a lucky man.”

“oh, i know i am,” satoru hums smugly, his hand still resting on your hair giving you a gentle push in a silent encouragement to move your head forward. “come on, baby. i know you can take more of him than that.”

with the help of your boyfriend’s guiding hand, you find yourself sinking more of nanami’s thick cock into your mouth, inch by girthy inch until your nose bumps against the small patch of trimmed blonde hair at the bottom of his abdomen.

“oh, fuuuck…” nanami groans roughly, gripping the fabric of the couch so hard his knuckles are whitening as he tries to hold himself back from just fucking into your mouth like a feral animal.

“it’s okay if you want be rough, nanamin,” the white-haired sorcerer murmurs against the shell of his ear, as if directly reading his thoughts. “she doesn’t mind. she’s your stress relief, remember?”

like the gentleman he is, nanami makes sure to make eye contact with you to check for any signs of hesitance first. but when he doesn’t find any; he just can’t hold himself back from thrusting his hips up into the wet cavern of your mouth.

you try your absolute best to kneel there and take it, but you simply can’t help the way you choke around his sheer length when his tip hits the back of your throat with a lewd thwack!, causing both he and satoru to moan in response.

“yeahhh, you look so pretty choking on nanamin’s cock, babygirl.” satoru groans proudly, trailing his spare hand down to leisurely palm the bulge in his own pants as he observes the scene before him.

your boyfriend’s praise makes you audibly mewl around the blonde man’s cock, the vibrations around his shaft making nanami slap satoru’s hand out of your hair to grab it himself, keeping you in place as he continues rutting into your mouth with reckless abandon.

“just like that, just like that.” nanami chants over and over like a mantra, starting to completely forget about any and all stress he has as he loses himself to the overwhelming pleasure you’re giving him.

“you’re close, aren’t you?” satoru chimes in with a satisfied smirk stretching across his lips as he leans in unnecessarily close to nanami’s ear to whisper. “don’t worry about pulling out, she’ll swallow it all.”

his colleague’s lewd words practically send nanami hurtling over the edge, his grip on your hair tightening to a borderline painful degree as he spills rope after rope of hot, thick cum straight down your throat.

it takes a few deep gulps for you to swallow everything nanami gave you, but there’s just so much of it that a few stray drops spill from the edges of your lips and onto the carpet. shit — you’ll have to clean that up later.

“thaat’s it. such a good girl,” satoru purrs warmly, his eyes alight with affection as he reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb, enjoying the dazed expression across your pretty features. “i think you broke nanamin, though.”

looking up at nanami, you can instantly see the visual evidence of what your boyfriend means by you breaking nanami.

the blonde man looks completely debauched — chest rapidly rising and falling as he pants harshly in an attempt to come down from the intensity of his orgasm and eyes squeezed shut so tightly it would appear that he's in some sort of pain if you didn't know better.

"you alright there, kento?" you ask half-teasingly, tapping his thigh gently to try and gain his attention. (it doesn't work; he's clearly out of it.)

satoru is grinning like a madman beside him on the couch, clearly more than pleased with how well his girlfriend is doing unravelling his uptight co-worker so far. "aww, what a shame! he's chickening out before he can even get a feel of your tight little pussy."

you huff, lean up to swat at the white-haired sorcerer's arm in an attempt to get him to shut up, which only causes him to scoop you up in his arms again and place a big wet kiss on your lips in retaliation, seemingly uncaring of the lingering tase of nanami on them.

giggling, you attempt to wriggle out of his grip, which accidentally causes your ass to brush against nanami's still half-hard cock as a result; and that seems to snap him right out of his reverie.

nanami's entire body jolts to attention, a low groan leaving his lips as he glances down at where you're unintentionally pressed against him. and, god, if your mouth made him cum that hard that he forgot where he was for a few moments, just how much better must your pussy be?

"finally back with us, hmm?" satoru drawls playfully, reaching around you to punch his colleague's shoulder a little harder than necessary, causing the blonde man to scowl in response.

"quiet, gojo." he mutters under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away from the slip of your panties he can just about see from underneath the hem of your baggy shirt.

oh, what he'd give for just one little taste right now...

"don't even think about it," satoru cuts in, snapping him from his thoughts. oh dear, did he say that out loud? he really does need to get control of himself. "if you taste her you'll get addicted, and we can't have that."

nanami can't help but feel slightly disappointed at this — he's always been the type to return the favour, and not being able to do the same for you makes a subtle frown tug at his lips.

but he knows that he has no right to ask for anything more than what he's being offered, seeing as you're not his. (and it's not like he can complain if he gets to be inside that pretty pussy that's been on his mind since satoru showed him his lockscreen last week.)

"are you just gonna sit there, nanamin?" satoru chuckles in teasing disapproval, shaking his head and lifting up the hem of your (his) baggy shirt to reveal the considerable wet spot painting the crotch of your panties. "or are you gonna hurry up and take care of my girl? you knoow, it's bad manners to leave a lady waiting while she's this needy."

"ahem. my apologies, darling," nanami mutters hoarsely, using every ounce of self-control he has left to forcefully tear his eyes away from your underwear and meet your eyes. he gestures to his lap, giving you the strongest smile he can muster right now. "would you like to take a seat?"

"still so well-mannered." you giggle lightly, although you oblige without question, crawling away from satoru to perch yourself upon nanami's wide thighs. he instinctively reaches out to grasp your hips with two large hands, keeping you steady.

"so... can i—?" nanami mutters quietly to satoru, as if sharing a well-kept secret, and not as if he's asking for permission to touch another man's girlfriend's cunt. jesus, is he out of his comfort zone right now.

"can you touch her? yes, yes, of course," the white-haired sorcerer replies quickly with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if eager to get this underway already so he can sit back and enjoy the show. "oh, and you have to make her cum on your fingers atleast once before you can fuck her. house rules."

nanami isn't complaining about this rule.

he owes you an orgasm anyway, but when he slides your soiled panties to the side and gets an eyeful of your pretty pussy, he feels as if it would be a crime not to put his fingers inside of you.

ever the gentleman, nanami looks up at you from behind his lopsided goggles one more time to check for any signs of hesitation, and when he still doesn't find any, he slowly dips two thick fingers between your folds, caressing your slick flesh.

you release a small sigh at the touch, your eyelids fluttering as a wave of pleasure washes over you. he's careful and gentle with his ministrations; since he obviously isn't familiar with what you like.

but you can tell he's the type to be a quick learner.

it isn't long before nanami has you squirming and whining on his lap, the two fingers he eased inside of your dripping entrance scissoring and exploring your sloppy hole, spreading you open bit by bit.

"mmm, you like that, pretty girl?" satoru asks raspily from behind you, lazily palming his clothed erection again as he observes your reactions to his colleague's touch. "is he making you feel good?"

"y-yeahhh." is all you can get out in your daze, your back arching forwards in an unconscious action when nanami's thumb finds your swollen clit, lightly pressing the rough pad of it down on the puffy bud.

satoru leans back in so his chin is almost resting on nanami's shoulder, his warm, laboured breaths caressing the lobe of the other man's ear. "her favourite thing is when you rub lil' circles on her clit." he whispers, voice low and teasing.

against his will, a shiver ripples down nanami's spine in response to satoru's words, and he finds himself following them like they were a command, his thumb sloppily circling your pretty clit and emitting a soft gasp from your parted lips.

"c-close, kento." you mutter breathlessly, your hips beginning to grind down onto his fingers in search of more friction. satoru is quick to assist, abandoning palming himself and wrapping his an arm around your waist to help you bounce on the other man's digits more smoothly.

"thank you, thank you!" you cry out to your boyfriend, turning your head to meet his lips in an uncoordinated, messy kiss inches from nanami's face. the blonde man finds his fingers unconsciously speeding up as he observes the interaction, fucking you on them hard and fast.

within moments, you're coming undone.

a soundless cry falls from your lips as your body falls limp between the two men, your cunt clenching and unclenching around nanami's fingers in search of something to milk.

"god. she looks even more beautiful when she cums... i-i need to feel her. can i feel her, satoru?" comes nanami's broken voice from somewhere nearby, your blissed out state making your vision swim and your hearing fuzzy.

"woow. called me by my first name and everything!" that's satoru, obviously. he sounds overwhelmingly smug. "if i knew my girlfriend would get you this pussydrunk, i'd have let you have a turn with her ages ago."

their bickering becomes background noise as you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm, but you vaguely register your baggy shirt being removed and your body being repositioned so you're splayed across the couch on your back.

"darling? do you need a moment or can i..." it's nanami's voice again. you manage to blink one eye open to find him hunched over you, burly arms either side of your head and his blonde tresses sticking to his forehead with sweat. casting your vision down, you can see his cock, flushed and angry with precum dripping from the tip once again, hovering just above your entrance.

"please." you mewl, the word slurred from lingering pleasure as you weakly grind your hips up into his erection, causing him to release a groan from deep in his throat.

"go ahead. give my girl what she wants," satoru grunts from somewhere behind nanami, the slick sounds filling the air indicating that he's finally released his cock from the confines of his sweatpants and started jerking himself off. "and you better give it to her good."

"i will," nanami mutters as he slowly but surely, pushes his monster of a cock past that first tight ring of muscle that is your entrance. "f-fuck— i will."

"i think that's the — ah — first time i've ever head you curse, nanamin." the white-haired man remarks playfully, his hips bucking up into his closed fist as he watches his colleague prepare to fuck his girlfriend. damn, this is even hotter than he expected.

"don't get used to it." he grunts in response, his arms visibly shaking above you as he tries to hold himself back from just slamming all the way into you. but no, he's still a gentleman; even now. he'll start slowly, atleast.

it takes a few long moments for nanami to push all of his ridiculously thick inches into you, and when he finally bottoms out, his heavy balls flush against your ass, both of you moan. he's stretching you out so good, just as much (if not more so) than satoru does.

the blonde man, to his credit, does manage to give you a while to adjust to the new intrusion filling you up, but it isn't long before he snaps, the animalistic side of him coming out as he begins rutting his hips into you like it's his last day on earth.

"a-ah! fuck, kento!" you cry breathlessly, your legs quickly locking around his waist for some type of support as he continues to use you like his own person cocksleeve, the couch rocking back and forth with the suddenly ruthless movements.

"uh huhh," satoru croons as he works his own cock faster, his blindfold discarded somewhere nearby so he can get the clearest view of nanami pounding his girlfriend into the couch. "use her to get rid of all that pesky stress."

"sorry, sweetheart — shit, sorry," nanami pants above you, his body seemingly having a mind of its own as he continues to drive his cock in and out of you, barely giving you a moment to breathe in between the rough thrusts. "can't stop."

you'd tell him it was okay, that it feels good, but right now you can't form a single coherent thought. you're completely and utterly cockdrunk, and there isn't even a doubt about it.

"hey — mmm — she really likes it when you play with her tits while you're fuckin' her." satoru adds helpfully, causing nanami to growl out something akin to thanks in response.

suddenly, a large hand is palming one of your bouncing breasts, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh and making you clench tightly around the cock inside of you.

nanami curses yet again under his breath, his eyes visibly rolling back in his head behind the fogged up lenses of his goggles. "so tight, darling. practically squeezing around me like a v-vice."

at his words, a broken moan gets ripped from your throat, your ankles digging into the muscles of his lower back in an attempt to pull him in even deeper. all you seem to be able to say is "more, more, more."

"that— ngh, that means she's close," satoru gasps out, his cock twitching beneath his fist as he continues to jerk himself off like there's no tomorrow. "rub... rub her clit like y'did earlier again."

instantly complying to the other man's command, two of nanami's thick fingers find your puffy little bud again, rubbing uncoordinated circles as he continues to pound into you like an animal in heat. jesus, he can't even remember what he was stressed about anymore.

"o-oh, shit!" you almost scream, the stimulation on your sensitive bud and the repeated slams of nanami's pudgy cockhead against your g spot driving you half-insane with pleasure. you can feel an all-too-familiar coil start to spool in the depths of your stomach, threatening to unravel at any given moment.

"yeah, that's it, baby," satoru praises breathlessly, his own orgasm approaching as he continues grinding into his fist like a desperate virgin. "cum all over nanamin's cock for me."

the dual sensations of your boyfriend's words and the thrusting of nanami's sinful hips has you spiralling uncontrollably over the edge, your second high of the night somehow even more intense than the first. you barely even have time to register the liquid just spraying from your cunt and soaking nanami's heavy balls where they're slapping against your ass with a lewd thwack! each time.

"god, so perfect, can't last—" nanami rambles in a very pussydrunk manner, his movements suddenly growing considerably more uncoordinated and sloppy as he struggles to find the strength to hold himself up. "gojo, where can i...?"

"not inside," satoru responds firmly, his voice the most coherent it's been since he started jerking himself off. it's clear there's no room for argument on this one. "that's for me only."

nodding shakily, nanami manages to pull his throbbing cock out just in a nick of time, rope after rope of his goopy cum splattering across the supple skin of your stomach, the stream going on for so long it seems like it'll never stop.

somewhere behind the blonde man, a low, raspy groan is the tell-tale sign that satoru has just finished too, probably coating his own hand with his sticky release.

it's silent for a few blissful moments, all three of you just basking in the afterglow of your respective orgasms. but of course, satoru gojo is a man who can never stay quite for long, so he says—

"hey, maybe we should do a threesome next time."

"next time?" nanami chokes out weakly, barely managing to lift his head up to glance over at this colleague with two raised eyebrows.

"yeah, next time," satoru shrugs nonchalantly, as if the proposal was nothing short of normal. "i know i said i'd only let you do this once, but... sharing is caring, right?"

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[skyrigel]

Brother's best friend! Simon who's always so smitten and sweet to you. Bringing along sweets and snacks whenever he comes over.

Brother's best friend! Simon who casually tucks your hair back, asking you bout' your day and listening and doting on every word.

Brother's best friend! Simon who takes you for a ride on his motorcycle, buying you ribbons and scarfs.

Brother's best friend! Simon who would fight with your brother if has to, to make your wishes come true.

Brother's best friend! Simon who agrees with you when you say, you can date whoever you want until it's Joe from class B, and he's beaten to pulp the very next day.

Brother's best friend! Simon whom you share your first smoke with, coughing and laughing as he bumps your nose.

Brother's best friend! Simon who expects a kiss on cheek too, after you say bye to your brother and absolutely goes pink when you place a chaste wet kiss on his face.

Brother's best friend! Simon who takes you on prom along so you don't feel left out, kissing you sweetly so you know how it feels.

Brother's best friend! Simon who gives you a summer job in his garage, watching you grow into a bigger person.

Brother's best friend! Simon who likes watching you in your summer dress hopping around and helping him like a good girl when he asks for some tool.

Brother's best friend! Simon who spreads your leg on his desk, lowering his mouth while your eyes connect with his, melting into a puddle when his tongue swipes along your clit, humming with your sweet juices.

Brother's best friend! Simon who has your legs in his lap as your brother and his fiance go on about their first meet while your friends are laughing.

Brother's best friend! Simon who goes crimson when you catch the flower bouquet your sister in law tossed, kissing your forehead so proudly.

Brother's best friend! Simon buying you a car when you graduate, watching you proudly when you drive up to your new shared home, going absolutely crazy when the wall is decorated with a huge poster, WILL YOU MARRY ME MRS.RILEY !

Brother's best friend! Simon hugging you as you melt in his big arms, “That's not a question baby !” you half laughed and half sobbed, “I am gonna fire you if you say no.” he kissed your forehead delicately.

Brother's best friend! Simon who marries you with the twilight in his eyes, the same when you were sixteen, kissing you sweetly as fireworks go ablaze in your head.

Grim Reaper!Simon

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[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48

Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.

You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).

But this was Bakugou, after all.

And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.

Not a good sign.

“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.

Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.

He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.

“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”

Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.

He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.

“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”

“Absolutely not.” 

Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 

It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.

You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.

“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.

“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”

“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 

“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”

Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.

“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.

“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”

Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.

He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.

“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”

Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.

He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.

“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 

“Formula first before adding 1.3.”

He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.

“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”

“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”

“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.

Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.

His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”

“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.

Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.

He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.

With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.

It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 

Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.

He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”

“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”

Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.

“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.

“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”

Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 

“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”

He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.

“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 

Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”

His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.

“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.

Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”

“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.

Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.

His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.

His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.

Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.

Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 

“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“

“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”

By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”

“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.

“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”

“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“

“Delete that.”

“Hey— wai— no way!”

It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[imaginedisish]

Heroes (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: I think I used David Bowie's "Heroes" for another fic when I first started writing on this blog. Oh well. We're using it again bc it inspired this fic. This is a combo request fic: Co-teachers/Logan having a nightmare/smut. Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan are assigned by Charles to co-teach a class to learn how to work as a team. You expect Logan to be cold, distant, short. What you don't expect is the way you find yourself needing him, and him needing you.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, soft!Logan, cocky!Logan (always), softdom!Logan vibes, implied age gap (Logan is obvi older), frenemies to lovers, feelings, some violence (Logan accidentally hurts the reader while having a nightmare), reader has regenerative powers, fluff, hurt to comfort (literally), reader has family trauma, afab!/f!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it!

Word Count: 5,267 kinda wanna do a part 2 this was cute

“I work better alone Charles. You know that.” 

You and Logan Howlett never did see eye to eye. 

“Yes, Logan. Which is why I’m giving you this challenge.”

He was always cold. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Always distant. 

“Hence why it is an excellent idea, Logan.”

But you never thought he’d be this resistant to teaching a class with you. 

“I’m fine with it,” you say, your eyes flitting between Logan and Charles. “It doesn’t faze me at all.”

Logan’s leather jacket crinkles and he puts his hands on his hips. He furrows his brows. “You’re fine with this?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. 

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t see why not.” Your eyes find Logan’s, but you can’t make out the expression on his face. Can’t tell if it’s dislike, pure hatred, or something else altogether. 

“This can’t happen,” Logan insists, tearing his eyes away from yours and turning towards the Professor. His words sting and you’re not quite sure why—not sure why you should care about this at all. 

“It is too late,” Charles’s voice booms. “I have already decided. You will co-teach a history class for...” Charles trails off, choosing his words carefully. “Younger students.”

You smile, but Logan rolls his eyes, his brows still furrowed. “How young?” You say in unison, although in starkly different tones. You whip your head to face Logan and find that his eyes are already on you.  

“Ages six to seven,” Charles explains. “This will be a smaller class, given how rare it is for children of that age to show their abilities, and the course will be incredibly simple.” He rolls away from behind the desk and approaches you and Logan in the center of the room. “I have faith that the two of you can handle this.”

Logan exhales deeply but doesn’t say a word. “We can,” you answer, your stare breaking away from Logan and turning to the Professor instead. “I look forward to teaching the class,” you pause, “with Logan.”

Something in Logan’s glare softens. His frown slowly disappears, melting away. His jaw relaxes, and his shoulders go slack. “Fine.” He’s curt, but something about the resolve in his voice gives you an ounce of hope that maybe, just maybe this will go well. 

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

This is, in fact, not going well at all. 

Agreeing on the curriculum was not a problem. Logan, having experienced most of U.S. History, believes in telling history as it happened. No rose-colored glasses. No murky half-truths or prettily wrapped white lies. No weird Christopher Columbus-themed arts and crafts. Having seen multiple wars and experiencing the power of government exploitation firsthand—not surprisingly—has made Logan progressive.

So, you had designed an age-appropriate, honest, curriculum. You were shocked at how well you and Logan worked together. You shared quiet hours in the library, passing scribblings and notes back and forth while pouring over books. You actually felt quite confident. 

That is, until the very first class. 

You and Logan had only just introduced yourselves—written your names on the board. 

“We are going to have a fun, educational year,” you finish, smiling widely. “Does anyone have any questions?”

A young girl in the center of the room raises her hand. You nod towards her, and she smiles sheepishly. “Are you two married?”

You’re taken back, your brows furrowing. “Oh, um—”

“No,” Logan cuts you off, his arms crossing tightly against his chest. His shortness hurts more than you’re willing to admit. “Absolutely not.” 

The little girl’s eyes widen. “But then why do you look at her like that?”

“Excuse me?” Logan asks, his voice a little too harsh. “Like what, kid?”

“Logan,” you whisper, turning to face him. “She’s six. Let it go,” you chide. “Professor Logan and I are friends and co-teachers. That’s all.” You turn back to the little girl, who nods, but she doesn’t look convinced. 

The rest of the class goes relatively well. It’s very introductory—teaching the children how mutant history and human history are intertwined. You and Logan are able to simplify things for the children so that they can understand. And, as the class goes on, Logan seems more comfortable with the children. 

The period is almost over when a little boy raises his hand, and Logan calls on him. “My older brother told me people like us are scary,” he says shyly. His eyes are sad—too tired for a six-year-old. “He told me that we shouldn’t exist.”

Your stomach drops, tears burning behind your sinuses. You think back to your own family, back to the trauma of being disowned for something you couldn’t control. You’re too heartbroken to tackle the question. Logan’s eyes flicker between you and the little boy. 

“Your brother is wrong,” Logan answers, crossing the room to stand next to you. He brings a hand to your lower back. It’s the ghost of a touch, but it’s a lifeline. “You’re special,” Logan says, and you know he’s talking to you, too. “You all are. Don’t listen to what they say. You’re more important than you’ll ever know. More extraordinary than they can understand.”

The bell rings, and the children stand, collecting their belongings. “See you all tomorrow,” Logan shouts over the shuffling and ruckus in the hallway. The children file out the door, jumping and cheering as if nothing happened. 

“They’re so resilient,” you say, shaking your head and watching them leave. You look over to Logan—his face close to yours, his palm still pressed against your back. 

“So are you,” he whispers, smiling softly, rubbing up and down your back. “You did great.”

“Yes, she did. And you did too, Logan,” Charles says, suddenly in the doorway to the classroom. “I forgot to drop off the roll call this morning,” Charles explains, holding out a sheet of paper. You cross the room to meet him, taking the sheet into your hands. “It has the list of names of the children in your class, as well as their abilities.” Charles backs into the hallway. “Excellent work, you two. You make a better team than you realize.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you say. Logan mumbles a soft Thanks, and heads towards the door once Charles is gone. 

He scratches his head, almost nervously. “Got another class to teach,” he husks. “Meet up later to go over tomorrow’s lesson plan?” 

You nod your head. “Sounds good.” Logan smiles and walks through the doorway and down the hall. 

You look at the roll call, and your eyes widen. Your heart beats out of your chest. You find the name of the little girl who had asked if you and Logan were married. 

Claire Teller—Precognition, Clairvoyance, shows signs of potential telekinesis.

The paper falls from your hands and drifts slowly to the floor. You look down, your lips parted in shock. Did she see you and Logan—

“You alright, sugar?” Rogue’s voice snaps you back to reality. You look up, and she’s standing in the door. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

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

The rest of the week goes smoothly. You and Logan meet each night to discuss the lesson plan for the following day. The classes go well. Claire always seems a bit distracted, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, but she does just fine in class. 

In fact, you’d say this was going better than well. You and Logan, despite his hesitation in the beginning, were growing closer every day. 

It’s written in secret, stolen moments—hands accidentally brushing, glances across the room. But you can feel it, the way your lives are being sewn together. You find ways to spend time alone outside of class—ordering dinner and grading together, practicing in the Danger Room as partners and not opponents. You had become something of a team.   

Tonight, you’re alone with Logan, sitting on the floor of his room, grading the small quiz you had given the children on the branches of government. Logan had picked the background music—60s and 70s rock. 

You hum along to Evil Woman by Electric Light Orchestra as you write “100%” at the top of a student’s quiz. 

“Pretty voice,” Logan rasps, looking up from his last quiz. Before you can react, before you can even process what he says, he’s moving on. “You almost done?”

“Just finished.” You write another “100%” and look up at Logan. He’s on his side, resting his head in his hand, balancing on his elbow. He smirks and stands up, striding over to you. He reaches his hand out, and you tilt your head, confused. You take his hand all the same, and he pulls you up. 

Logan’s hands find your waist, and he sways you from side to side. You giggle, shakily bringing your arms up and around his neck. Your heart thunders in your chest as you dance with him. 

“Didn’t take you for a dancer,” you murmur. Evil Woman fades out and Heroes by David Bowie starts up.  

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Logan husks. He pulls you in tighter, his chest pressed to yours. 

“Yeah?” You ask, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. Your eyes flutter closed. “Like what?”

He’s suddenly silent, and you can feel the tension thicken in the room. “When Charles came to us about the class…” He trails off, searching for the right words to say. “I was nervous,” he admits. 

You lift your head from his neck. “Why?” You question, smiling softly. 

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “Because I—” But then there’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Charles on the other side. Logan huffs, his eyes closing defeatedly as he loosens his hold on your waist and walks over to the door. 

“There has been an emergency,” Charles says the second the door is open. “I need you to go on a mission immediately. This is a dire situation.”

Logan looks across the room to you. “Okay,” he says, his eyes still trained on yours. 

Charles nods and heads down the hallway. “Meet me downstairs. Hank is readying the jet now.” 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you confess, fighting the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. You can’t quite place where the feeling is coming from—why you’re suddenly so nervous about Logan leaving. A month ago, this sort of thing would’ve felt routine, normal. There’s always a crisis somewhere. 

Logan swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I’ll come back,” he promises. “And we can talk then.” He strides over to you, wrapping you in his arms, and pulling you into his chest. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” 

“Logan?” Charles calls from downstairs. “We need to leave at once!” 

Logan squeezes you tightly before letting go. He works his jaw, his teeth gritting as he backs out of the room and down the hallway. Your heart drops as you listen to his footsteps echoing against the stairs. By the time you muster up the courage to follow him, it’s too late. The door to the mansion slams just as you make it to the bottom of the steps. 

You can still hear Heroes faintly playing from Logan’s room. 

And the guns, shot above our heads (over our heads) And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall) And the shame, was on the other side Oh we can beat them, forever and ever Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

You sit on the bottom step, your head falling into your hands.

“Oh, sugar,” Rogue whispers as she walks into the foyer. She settles next to you. “I didn’t know you and Logan…” She trails off, shaking her head. “He’ll come back. He always does.” She hangs her arm around your shoulder, tugging you into her chest. 

You hope she’s right. 

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

The next morning, Logan is still gone. You’re forced to teach the class alone. As you’re starting roll call, a young boy raises his hand. 

“Yes, Jimmy?” You call, arching your brows. 

“Where’s Professor Logan?” He asks curiously, tilting his head to the side. 

You swallow harshly, inhaling deeply. “He has something to take care of,” you explain. “It’ll just be me teaching today. Is that alright with you?” You try to sound light, jovial, plastering a fake smile across your face. The kids buy it, giggling and nodding. Jimmy smiles widely and nods, too.

But Claire—the little girl who can seemingly see into the future, stares at you sympathetically. It sends a chill down your spine. It’s like she knows how you’re feeling—can see it in her mind’s eye. You shake the feeling off, proceeding with the lesson. The material is distracting enough—the U.S. voting system, carefully explained so that the children can understand. 

The rest of the class goes off without a hitch, and the bell finally rings. The session felt longer than usual without Logan, and certainly harder to get through, but not impossible. The class picks up their belongings and files out. You grab your papers, readying to leave, assuming that everyone is gone. 

“He’s going to come back,” a small, familiar voice whispers. You look up from your materials, and there’s Claire, standing in front of the desk. Her deep, brown eyes twitch back and forth. She closes them tightly and smiles. “You don’t have to worry,” she assures. “He’s safe. He’ll always come back to you.” She pauses. “All I see is happiness.” The veins in her temples grow thicker, and you can tell she’s working too hard to look to the future.

“Claire,” you say, your hand grabbing her shoulder. “Don’t hurt yourself, my love. You don’t have to do that for me. I’m okay.”

Her eyes fly open, and she smiles widely, as if nothing happened. She steps away from the desk, your hand falling from her shoulder. “Didn’t hurt at all!” She calls as she skips out the door. “See you Monday!”

You shake your head. Resilient, you think to yourself. So goddamn resilient. 

The rest of the evening is slow. You try to keep yourself busy—grading papers, listening to music, going for a run, training in the Danger Room. But all you can think about is Logan. 

After dinner, you get ready for bed, changing into a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. You sit alone in your room, on your bed, reminding yourself of what Claire had told you this afternoon. 

He’s going to come back. You don’t have to worry. He’s safe. 

You lay back on your pillows, bringing the covers up to your chin and closing your eyes. You repeat her words over and over again in your head as you fall asleep. He’s safe. He’s safe. He’s safe. 

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

You wake up a few hours later, your bedside lamp still on. Your alarm clock reads 1:45 AM. You groan, rolling over and shutting your eyes tightly, trying to force yourself back to sleep. But it’s no use—you’re awake, thinking of Logan already. 

You push yourself to sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, and pressing your feet into the cold wood floors below. You walk to your door, twist the knob, and head out into the hallway.  A lap around the mansion might make you tired—might relax you. 

You walk down the hallway slowly, noticing instantly that Logan’s door is closed. You can’t help but pick up your pace, striding towards Logan’s room. 

You stand in front of his door, your hand on the knob, ready to twist and push. You stop yourself, wondering if this is crossing a line, tearing down a carefully constructed boundary. But all you want is to see him breathing, lying on his bed. You need to know he’s in there—safe. 

You knock once, but there’s no answer. You swallow nervously, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. 

Your heart stops. There he is. He’s home. He’s safe. He’s breathing. You let out a sigh of relief, smiling softly as you start to close the door. 

But then his head snaps to the side, and he grunts. “Logan?” You call, opening the door slightly. He doesn’t answer. He grunts again. You quickly notice the way his fists white-knuckle his sheets. 

You step inside his room, closing the door behind you. “Lo,” you whisper into the darkness. He tosses and turns, his head whipping from side to side. He must be having a nightmare, You think to yourself, your heart breaking in two, watching pain wrack his body, his mind. 

You meet his side, placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking him softly. “Logan,” you say, your voice louder, stronger this time. “You need to wake up.” But he doesn’t. He groans, his brows furrowed, sweat beading his forehead. 

“Come on,” you plead, climbing into the bed, and straddling him. You hold him down by his shoulders, stopping him from writhing. Now that you’re closer, you can see the tears streaming down his cheeks, can see the agony etched into the lines of his face. “Logan!” You yell. “You gotta wake—”

His eyes fly open, and you feel cold metal pierce your leg. Your jaw drops as pain stings sharply in your thigh. “Oh fuck,” Logan curses, sitting up and retracting his claws. Tears brim in the corners of your eyes as the pain worsens. “Shit!” He cries out, grabbing at your thigh, blood spilling into his fingers. 

You close your eyes as your powers take hold. Your skin slowly stitches up, putting yourself together again. You groan, and Logan wraps his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles into the side of your head, pressing soft, gentle kisses there. “I love you, I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

What did he just say?

“W-what?” You ask, the pain fading away as those three words echo in your mind. 

Logan’s breathing only quickens as he realizes what he said. “A-are you okay?” He asks, ignoring your question. 

You nod. “It’s already gone,” you whisper, nodding to your thigh. “But what did you just—”

“I love you,” he interrupts, saying it again. You pull back a bit to look at him. You can see the seriousness in his eyes, the adoration, the honesty. “I love you.” 

You bite your lip, your eyes widening as you process what this means. Logan loves you. It’s everything you ever wanted. Everything you could have asked for. It just makes sense.

“I love you too,” you confess, choking on your words. “I was so worried. I didn’t know when you’d come back, or if you’d come back at all. I saw your door closed, and I just had to see you. I needed to know that you were okay, that you came home.”

He presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closing. “Before I left,” he pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I was going to tell you why I didn’t want to work together.” His eyes open again. “I was scared to get close to you,” he explains. “I knew I wanted you the second I saw you. Knew I had to have you. I’ve never felt that way before. You opened something inside me that I thought I didn’t have. Turns out it was just locked, waiting around for you.”

“Logan,” you breathe, his lips just inches from yours. “I wanted you too. Wanted you this whole time.” You need him to kiss you—to take you right here and now. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you admit, giggling softly. 

He shakes his head, smirking. “I liked you too much,” he rasps. “Didn’t know what to do about it. You were driving me crazy, sweetheart.” You can feel his erection straining in his boxers, and you can’t help but grind down on him, your core rocking against his cock. “Fuck,” he groans, gripping your hips. “Slow down, pretty girl. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod emphatically. “Already healed,” you assure him. “Just need you, Lo.”

“Need you too, sweetheart,” Logan groans, rolling your hips against his, tugging you down his length. “Can feel you soaking through those panties already,” he grunts. And he’s right. The heat pooling between your legs is uncontrollable. 

You groan as your clit drags across his erection. “F-fuck,” you stutter, his fingers digging into your hips. You bring your hands to the waistband of his boxers, tugging at them. But before you can get anywhere, Logan is flipping you onto your back and crawling down your body. 

“Next time, sweetheart,” he coos, hiking your shirt up and smirking when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He palms your breasts, tweaking your nipples before sliding down further. “Wanna take care of you this first time.”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his words. You can see the hunger in his eyes as he kisses down your stomach, going past the hem of your panties, stopping at your clit. He takes a deep breath. “Can smell that pretty pussy. Know she needs me, darlin’.” 

He hooks his fingers into your waistband, and tugs the thin lace down your legs, revealing your aching cunt to him. He settles between your thighs, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your clit. 

“L-Lo,” you choke. “Please.”

He smiles against you, breathing you in again. “Please what, princess?” He asks, looking up at you under hooded eyes. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you beg. “Need you. Always gonna need you.” 

His smile meets his eyes as he licks a long stripe through your folds, his tongue pushing through your entrance, tasting you, savoring you. He hums against you, the vibration of his voice rocking your core. “Tastes so good,” he mumbles, licking another long stripe. “Perfect pussy. Knew you’d be this sweet.”

You watch as he laps at you, drinking you in. Logan’s tongue finds your clit, drawing tight circles into the bud. “F-feels so good,” you stutter. 

“I know, beautiful” He soothes, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh, drawing closer to your heat. “You look so pretty when you let me eat you out,” he praises, his fingers prodding your entrance. “You want more?” He teases, slipping just past your slit and quickly pulling out. 

“Yes,” you whimper, pleasure coursing through your veins. “Need your fingers, Lo. Please.”

He wastes no time—suddenly thrusting inside you, his long, thick fingers splitting you in two. Your walls flutter around him, sucking him in, taking him deeper. “So tight,” he coos, pulling out and sliding back in. “So fucking wet.”

Logan wraps his lips around your clit, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks, hard. He releases, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your walls clench around his fingers at the sensation. “Fuck,” Logan curses, smirking against you. “You like that?” He teases. “Like when I’m rough with you?” His tongue flits out, lapping flat strokes across your clit. 

You moan a soft Yes in affirmation, your back arching off the mattress. You’re already close, ready to let go. But Logan isn’t letting up, his fingers slamming into you, taking your clit back into his mouth and sucking harder, rougher this time. He swirls soothing circles into the bud, pushing you to the edge. 

“Logan,” you whine, your hips squirming as he drags his tongue harder against your heat. “I’m so close.” 

Your muscles contract and release around his fingers as he hits that sweet spot inside you, pump after pump. “I know, pretty girl,” He soothes, his free hand wrapping around your hip and holding you down to the mattress. “Look at you,” he praises between harsh sucks. “So beautiful like this.” His tongue circles your overstimulated clit. “Already fucked out, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” you mutter, your hips squirming helplessly against his grip. It’s all too much, his hushed whispers, his praises, the way his tongue flits against you, his deep thrusts dragging along your walls. “Logan, I’m gonna…” 

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coaches, his tongue still lapping at you ravenously. He’s starving, unwilling to stop. He needs more. “Should keep you in my bed so I can taste you whenever I want.” He grunts against you. “Want you to come on my fingers, darlin’. Wanna taste it. Let go.”

It’s all blazing, white-hot heat, raging through your body, searing your skin. Your eyes stay trained on Logan as he works you through your orgasm—ravaging you, lapping up every last drop of your release. His fingers pump in and out, slowly, before he pulls out completely. But his face stays buried against your cunt, his tongue pushing through your folds. 

“Logan,” you whine, lacing your fingers through his hair. “Need you up here.” 

He looks up from your heat and licks one more long stripe before climbing up your body. He tugs his boxers down his legs, his eyes not leaving yours. His cock springs free, bumping against his stomach. 

Logan settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand wraps around the base of his cock. You instinctually spread your legs, as if it’s second nature, as if you’ve been here before. “Such a good girl,” Logan praises, sliding his tip through your folds. “All spread open for me.” His cock nudges against your clit and slides back down. “You need me, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you choke. “More than you can—”

And then he’s plunging inside you, bottoming out with just one thrust. “Fuck!” You cry out. He stays inside, unmoving, letting you adjust to the size of him. 

He presses his forehead to yours. “You okay?” He asks. His cock throbs, pushing against your walls, searching for more. His hand slips between your bodies and finds your clit. 

“Y-yes,” You stutter, sighing in relief as his fingertips draw gentle strokes into the bud. “S-so big.”

“I know,” Logan soothes, sliding out only to shove himself back in, down to the hit. Your back arches off the mattress, your chest coming flush with his. “Gonna work you open.” His voice is gentle, calm. “I’ve got you. Relax for me, sweetheart.” 

Logan pulls out and thrusts in again, his lips swallowing your moans with a kiss. His fingers swirl around your clit as pleasure pulses through your every nerve ending. “Feels so good,” you murmur as he picks up his pace, his hips rolling against yours. 

He grunts. “So perfect,” he praises. “Fucking made for me.” He pumps in and out of you harder, faster now, letting himself go. He pinches your clit, rolling the bud under his fingertips. “Never gonna want anyone but you, you know that?” He twitches inside you, and your walls flutter around him. 

You curse under your breath. “Yes,” you cry out. “Only gonna want you, Lo. Only you.”

“Doing so good for me,” he husks between hard thrusts. “Taking me so well.” His hips snap against yours, his fingers circling your clit rapidly, adding more pressure. His lips find yours again, biting, kissing you bruisingly, fitting against you like a puzzle piece. 

Your chests heave together, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing against the walls of the room. “You’re so perfect,” he whispers, his lips suddenly at the shell of your ear. He bites down on your pulse point, his tongue flitting out to lick the pain away. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your walls contract around him, squeezing him as he sinks deeper inside you, hitting exactly where you need him most. You’re so close, ready to come undone. “Fuck, Logan,” you whine as he pounds into you. “I’m gonna—”

“Me too, pretty girl,” he rasps, twitching inside you. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he plunges deeper. He lifts his head from the crook of your neck and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “Don’t wanna stop. Don’t wanna…” He trails off, his cock throbbing inside you again. You know he can’t hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist. “Don’t stop,” you beg. “Stay inside.” 

He groans, his forehead pressing to yours. “You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? That what you’re asking for?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer, his fingers pinching your clit and stroking relentlessly. “Please,” you choke, begging, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes. 

“Fuck,” he curses. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Wanna make you mine.” 

“Already yours,” you whisper, your muscles contracting around his length again, your legs trembling as stars flood your vision. Logan moans your name, and you can feel him spilling inside you. You come together, your orgasm crashing into you, more intense, more powerful than the last. 

“Love you so much,” he whispers as he finishes, painting your walls. 

“Love you too, Lo,” you say back, your heart beating out of your chest as you come down from your high. 

His fingers drag against your clit, swiping gently before running up your body, slipping under your back, and pulling you into his chest. His hips are still, his cock unmoving inside you. He finally pulls out, and rolls off you, taking you with him. He tugs you into his chest, holding you tightly.

“Are you okay?” He asks softly. “Need anything?”

“J-just you,” you stammer. His fingertips trace patterns along your back, soothing and gentle. 

“Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead and moving to sit up. But you stop him, wrapping your arms around his torso and holding him down. He smirks, letting you pull him back. “I’m just gonna grab a towel, yeah? Wanna take care of you. I’ll come right back.”

You nod, letting him go. He slips out of the bed, strides over to his bathroom, and grabs a towel from inside without turning a light on. Within ten seconds he’s back in bed, just like he said he would be. 

Logan brings the towel between your legs and wipes you clean. His touch is gentle, soothing, careful not to be too rough. Once he’s done, he throws the towel to the floor and reaches over to his nightstand. When he turns back to you, he has a glass of water in his hand. He extends the glass out, bringing it to your lips. The water feels cool as it slides down your throat. You drain the glass, and Logan smiles as he pulls it from your lips. 

He places the cup back down on the nightstand and pulls you into his arms again. You bury your head into the center of his chest, listening carefully to his heartbeat. It’s even, steady, constant. Just like him. 

“Never felt like this before,” he whispers into the silent darkness of the room. 

“Like what?” You mumble, your voice muffled against his chest. 

You can hear the smile in his voice as the words leave his lips. “Happy. Safe.”

Tears—happy tears—free themselves from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. 

“Can’t let go of you,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t wanna go back to before.”

“You don’t have to, Lo,” you pant. “I’m yours. Always.” And you know you mean it. You know it’s true. It’s already been decided, already played out. Already etched into the future. 

Are you two married? Claire had asked. 

He’ll always come back to you. All I see is happiness, She had promised.

And she was right. 

“I love you,” Logan husks. 

“I love you, too.” 

tags: @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @Ifdybadgirlsdiw @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesslut @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour