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lowkeyrobin · 3 days

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hiii! hope you’re having a good day/night/whatever :D i was wondering if you could do something where the reader was fives (almost ?) s/o and then after learning about him and lila theyre upset. and then reader and diego sort of bond over the feeling and find solace in their friendship with each other. i mean this in like a thing for diego sort of way, the five thing is just a backstory. sorry if this is hard to understand english is hard

oooo okay this is cool!! ; and don't worry it's not hard to understand at all! your English is very good 🫶 ; but we are gonna pretend five wasn't trapped in his teenage body for all the time reader would've known him or wtv 💀 cause the physical and mental gap between diego and five is diabolical and idk how else to make it not weird. I usually say and enforce that I won't recognize the five/lila thing as canon but this is relevant to the story and I need diego requests lol. ; but uh yeah!! thank you for requesting, I hope you enjoy!! ; also the ending part lowkey sucks I'm sorry

DIEGO HARGREEVES ; it's called moving on

summary ; after Five and Lila get trapped in the subway, they have a double affair on you and Diego. after saving the world, you both bond over it and move on (to each other)

warnings ; language, cheating, arguing / physical fighting, knives, alcohol

disclaimers ; five is in the physical body of a 30-ish year old to make this not creepy as hell on any parts. I have a distinct hatred for whatever tf happened w Lila and Five so don't expect to see anything nice about them... ; also reader is a sparrow, didn't wanna get incest-y in here...

word count ; 1.5k

masterlist

Klaus, Allison, and Luther sit on the couch, watching over the kids while you and Diego rush to the door. Five and Lila had been MIA for hours now, you were both growing worried. Luckily, it was them standing at the doorstep.

"Where've you been?" Diego asks, slightly worried. "It's been hours"

"Seven, at that" you raise an eyebrow at Five. "You've never just gone MIA for that long. Did you find anything out on how to stop all this shit? Cause we did"

Five is unable to look you in the eye. "Uh, not really. What'd you learn?"

"Well, for one, Dad's alive, so is our mother... I think?" you begin, pulling him inside. "She's not really our mom, but she's Dad's wife, or whatever. Our actual birth mother's are alive in this timeline. And your Ben died because your Reginald shot him in the head! We think fate is coming together cause my Ben and Jennifer are together and we have to stop them-"

Diego and Lila step in behind you, joining you all in the living room. Lila's family stand in the kitchen, coming together to make some Christmas dinner food for the upcoming days. You can't help but notice both Five and Lila can't look you in the eye, how they look tired and haven't spoken damn near a word.

You four stand in the middle of the living room, shoes off to Lila's family's rules, your socks digging into the carpet. Allison, Luther, and Klaus part their attention between the kids and you four.

Diego looks down at Lila's wrist, seeing a glare from the sunlight outside on something she was wearing. He quickly grabs her wrist, confused of what she could've been wearing, as she didn't like bracelets, at least not store bought ones. She wouldn't have gone on a run to get herself a bracelet, right? I mean, what?

Diego furrows his brows at her while you press a chaste kiss to Five's forehead.

"I thought you hated bracelets?" Diego mutters, grabbing the attention of the siblings who sit on the couch.

Lila looks at him with fake confusion, trying to brush it off. "No, I don't"

"Yeah, you do" Diego nods. "I got you one for Valentine's Day and you traded it in for a Dyson vacuum."

You and Five look to Diego and Lila, listening in.

Lila is silent. "I don't like store bought ones. I kept the bracelet you made for me in that mental institution"

She had him on that one.

"Who made it, then?" Diego asks firmly.

She's silent. Five looks away from Diego.

Diego looks to him, then back at Lila. He frees Lila's wrist from his grasp, staring Five down. You look between him, Diego, and Lila, connecting the dots.

"Five?" You question, eyebrows furrowed, your voice unsure.

Diego reaches for his back pocket.

Five stuffs his hands in his pockets, head held low.

"Is there something going on between you two?" Diego asks nervously, looking between Five and Lila.

"Diego-" Lila speaks

"Holy shit, wow" Diego scoffs, looking down at her.

Klaus' jaw drops, Luther and Allison beside him share shocked expressions. You look back at the three, unable to react as you're caught frozen in the moment.

"Woah"

"Holy shit"

"I didn't see that one coming"

"Holy shit, I was right" Diego looks between the two, "I knew you were cheating on me!"

You shove Five into the wall, far enough away from the TV and the kids to not effect them physically. Diego hurls a knife at him, just missing his skull by a few centimeters, a purposeful act. He merely did it to scare Five. The knife creates a hole in the wall and a loud thudding noise that catches the family's attention.

Diego turns his attention back to Lila, you looking over your shoulder to listen. "I knew you were cheating on me at that book club"

Lila sighs. "I wasn't cheating on you... not when you thought I was"

You turn back to Five, lips slightly parted, your expression soft yet heavy. He isn't able to speak a word to you. He steps away from the stabbed wall, walking toward you. He reaches for you and you push him away.

"Y/n-"

"No!" you shudder, then speak firmly. "Get away." you back away toward Diego, unable to look at him.

"Maybe we should go-" Luther speaks, seeing how the three were witnessing an awful thing right now.

"No, we're not going anywhere" Allison replies, an arm over him to prevent him from going anywhere.

Diego steps forward, looking at Five in the eye. "Five, did you s-k-r-e-w my wife?" he spells out 'screw' since a bunch of kids under thirteen sit no more than six feet away.

"Screw is spelled s-c-r-e-w" Grace chimes in with a smile, unaware of the situation because of her small little mind.

Klaus snorts, failing at holding back laughter. Allison bites her tongue while Luther deeply sighs, keeping his laughter at bay.

Five bites his lip before slowly nodding.

"What the fuck?!" you exclaim, slinging a quick punch to his face, causing his nose to bleed.

He groans, holding a hand to his nose. He doesn't rebute, knowing he deserved that and much more.

"Are you kidding me?" you question, looking between Five and Lila. "What the actual shit is wrong with you two?!"

Lila's family peers through the kitchen door, halfway understanding what you all were saying as they weren't perfectly fluent with English. You wished you could speak Punjabi to tell them how their daughter cheated and how your boyfriend was a fucking homewrecker.

"Y/n, please," Lila speaks, trying to calm you, holding a hand out to you.

You slap her hand away, and back up toward the siblings on the couch. Klaus holds a hand over his mouth, Luther watches in silence, Allison bites her tongue.

"You're fucking unbelievable."

You cut contact with Five, Diego cut most contact with Lila and kept the kids 70% of the time. Lila paid child support, the extent of their conversations other than the kids.

It'd been a few years since your brother had to be killed. You'd been struggling a lot. In between Ben's death and the whole Five and Lila thing, you weren't okay, you didn't think you ever would be.

Most the family didn't talk to either one after the whole incident. They'd luckily sided with you and Diego. Allison still talked to Lila, but she'd created herself a whole new life, so the two didn't talk that much.

Life moves on, shit happens.

You lived near Diego, the two of you often going out with the kids to still create some sort of happy family dynamic for them. From lunch to movies, to road trips and rollercoasters, you'd do anything for those kids. You felt so bad knowing there was no way to repair Diego and Lila's relationship, wishing the kids got to have more time as a proper family.

Diego sat with you on the couch, no kids in trail this time. They were with Lila this weekend. Fruity concoctions rest in your hands, the television in front of you playing some dumbass action movie.

"People clearly don't like three children on the man they're going on a date with," Diego chuckles. "My kids come first, sorry."

You smile. "At least you're humbled and know what you're living for, what's important."

He raises an eyebrow, confused about what you're implying.

You see that look and clarify. "I dunno what I'm living for anymore. My brother's dead. My ex cheated on me and all I feel is fucking angry day in and day out. I don't know anymore"

Diego's face grows soft. "Moving on isn't easy."

You nod. "It's harder to do it alone"

He's silent for a moment before speaking up. "Maybe we don't have to do it alone?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What're you implying, Di?"

He shrugs, looking into your eyes. "Whatever you want to think I'm implying"

"...but the kids, that's gonna be so confusing-"

"You love the kids. I know you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been on all these adventures with us, you wouldn't have asked me yourself to make plans and come over. I know you feel the way I do."

You're both quiet, thinking over your own and the other's words.

"Maybe" you shrug.

"Maybe? I'm allowed to get my hopes up?"

"Calm down, pal" you chuckle. "Not so soon, let's like... ask the kids. I'd feel bad not asking how they felt. They're my priority, they come before us"

Diego nods. "Glad you feel that way. We should get married ASAP." he chuckles, nudging you with his shoulder.

You smile, taking a sip of your beverage. "Feels wrong to even think about this, y'know?"

"It's called moving on. It's normal, I promise"

#lowkeyrobin #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader #tua x reader #diego hargreeves oneshot #diego hargreeves x reader #david castaneda x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #five hargreeves x reader #gn! reader

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ofthemorningstars · 3 days

Text

Gifts of the Sabbath (Part 2)

TerzOmega ~ Smut below the cut

3.4k words

Chapter 1 Ao3 Version

Omega gives Terzo roses. Terzo gives Omega... something else.

When they finally made it to the bedside after what felt like an eternity, Omega was allowed to sit up on his knees. Omega could see that there was another black box waiting for them on the bed. He swallowed hard; Terzo had been scheming. Omega felt antsy.

“These seem to have gotten awfully tight,” Terzo said, gesturing to his black lace panties. He was right. Terzo’s bulge was straining hard against the fabric, the seams protesting. “I think I’ll need your help getting them off, amore.” His voice was positively dripping with lust. Omega eagerly reached up to remove them, but Terzo moved to stop him, tutting.

“Not with your hands.” Terzo smiled down at him wickedly. Omega whimpered. He tried his best to do as he was told. He grabbed at the lace with his teeth, taking great care not to accidentally graze Terzo’s skin with his fangs or rip the delicate material. It was a frustrating process, and Omega was surprised to find the humiliation welcoming. He could feel the heat coming off of Terzo, could smell the vanilla on his skin. Finally Omega freed Terzo’s hips and allowed the underwear to shimmy down his legs, Terzo kicking them off haphazardly. Terzo stood at attention, reddened and glistening with precum. Omega salivated at the sight. Omega moved to grab him, but again Terzo stopped him.

“Ah ah, not yet, bello. I have one more gift for you. That was practice.” Practice for what? Terzo sat on the bed, reaching back behind him for the black box. Omega could see that there were multiple objects in the box, but couldn’t make out what they were. What Terzo pulled out, though, was a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs. Omega’s stomach dropped. He didn’t know if his body could handle all of this in one day.

“Will you wear these? Is that ok?” Terzo asked, speaking softly, looking at him directly. Omega nodded before he could even get the question out. Terzo knelt down behind him, securing his arms together. The cuffs just barely fit, but they didn’t dig into his skin. They were flimsy; he could easily break them if he wanted to. No real danger, should anything happen. He could work with this.

Terzo sat back down on the bed, leaning back on his palms. Omega inched closer to him on his knees, face pleading. Omega was so close to Terzo that he could almost taste him, but he waited. Terzo smiled fondly at him and nodded. “Go ahead.”

Unable to use his hands, Omega caught Terzo with his mouth. He closed his eyes and hummed, savoring the taste. He trailed his forked tongue over veins and swirled around the tip, making sure to be careful of his fangs. Terzo moaned low and grabbed the back of Omega’s head with one hand. Omega was throbbing, already hard again. He worked Terzo, wanting to hear more of his beautiful noises. But just as those noises were growing louder, Terzo tugged at Omega’s hair, asking him to pull away. Omega was disappointed, but listened, spit trailing as he released him.

“You’ve had your taste, amore. Now, on the bed. Up,” Terzo directed, catching his breath, running a finger along the underside of Omega’s jaw. He helped Omega stand on shaky legs. Once he was situated at the foot of the bed, Terzo did something he wasn’t expecting. He tied Omega’s leash to the intricate wrought iron bedframe, giving him about a foot of slack. Enough to sit comfortably, but not enough to reach any further on the bed. At the other end of the bed in front of him was a stack of pillows. Terzo proceeded to situate himself on them, propping himself up. Omega had a spectacular view of everything. Especially his face.

Omega could be in for more than he bargained for.

Terzo gave himself a few quick strokes, then opened the black box beside him and pulled out a bottle. He made a show of spreading his legs for Omega, running his hands up his inner thighs. Terzo coated his fingers with lube and slipped one inside, sighing with relief. He stared directly at Omega as he fingered himself, eye contact growing so intense that Omega wanted to look away, but he couldn’t; he was entranced. Omega’s face and chest were flushed a dark purple. Terzo threw his head back with a groan as he added a second finger, thrusting slowly. He started curling his fingers upwards, massaging his prostate. Precum dripped onto Terzo’s stomach. Omega whined at the sight, his own cock aching and dripping onto the bed.

Terzo withdrew, apparently satisfied with his preparation. What was he preparing for when Omega was restrained at the other end of the bed, though? Omega was getting more anxious by the second.

Terzo opened the black box again, this time pulling out a toy: a large purple dildo with a flared base. Omega’s heart sank as Terzo lubed up the toy, looking at him as he stroked it teasingly. Omega’s cock jumped and he felt a twinge of jealousy; it should be him getting all that attention. At least Omega was bigger than the toy, he thought to himself.

Terzo lay back again, legs spread even wider this time. The collar began to feel tighter and more restrictive by the second. Terzo hissed as he inserted the tip. His face contorted in pleasure as he slowly pushed the toy inside, moaning. Omega strained against the leash, choking himself in his need to get closer. He was lightheaded as he watched Terzo fuck himself. His thrusts started long and slow, nearly pulling all the way out on each stroke. Terzo let out a dreamy sigh, again looking Omega directly in the eyes. Omega’s cock was weeping.

As Terzo’s speed built, so did the heat inside of Omega. He felt like he could combust at any second. Terzo was moaning and sweating as he began to move his hips in time with his thrusts. Terzo’s free hand gripped the sheets, and then his cock. He pumped himself in time with his thrusts, his noises growing louder and more needy. Omega was huffing and sweating, desperate to touch Terzo, to be inside of him. He thought very seriously about breaking the handcuffs and untying himself, but he didn’t. He waited. He wanted to be good.

Suddenly Terzo stopped. He released himself and withdrew the toy. He caught his breath for a moment, and then he sat up. He crawled towards Omega. Omega’s heart raced impossibly faster. Terzo got close enough that Omega could feel the heat coming off of him. He was just barely out of reach, no matter how hard he tried. And he did try, nearly choking himself out in his need to touch Terzo. Terzo grinned down at Omega.

Terzo reached out and ran his fingers through Omega’s hair soothingly with one hand, furiously working himself with the other. Terzo was so close to Omega, right in front of his face. Omega’s wrists burned. All he had to do was break these flimsy cuffs and he could touch Terzo. His chest was heaving, he was on the verge of tears. Lucifer help him, he needed to touch Terzo–

Terzo suddenly grabbed Omega by one of his horns, yanking him down to be on level with his cock. Terzo threw his head back with a shamelessly loud moan and came across Omega’s face, bathing it in warmth. Omega started panting, salivating. His hands strained at the cuffs, trying with all of his might to stay still. To not break them. He trembled. Be good. Be good. Please be good. For Terzo. He was so hard that it hurt. A single tear rolled down his unmarred cheek.

Terzo released Omega, leaning back on his palms for a few moments to catch his breath. He was sweaty but glowing. Omega thought he looked positively radiant, and that mischievous twinkle had yet to leave his eyes. Another tear escaped. Omega was still aching to touch him. Terzo reached out and caressed Omega’s cheek. Omega leaned into his touch.

“Look at you, bello. You are so beautiful like this. Such a good boy.” Terzo praised. “My perfect ghoul.” Omega felt like he was going to pass out. Terzo drew his hand away from Omega’s face, one of his fingers coated with his own cum. Omega quickly caught the digit with his mouth before Terzo could withdraw, greedily sucking it clean. Omega distantly thought about all of the teasing he’d heard over the years from clergy members about ghouls going into heat like animals. This must be what that would feel like. He felt crazed, feral. Out of control.

Terzo chuckled at his desperation.

“You’ve been so good for your Papa,” he spoke softly. He reached down the bed and grabbed the bottle of lube, filling his palm. When he finally grabbed Omega’s cock after what had felt like hours of it begging to be touched, Omega almost came on the spot. He bit his tongue against a shout, a strangled sound escaping instead. Omega felt like he was going to vibrate out of his body as Terzo slicked him, praying for what was next. Terzo leaned forward to grace his cheek with a lingering kiss. Omega didn’t move, didn’t dare disobey and ruin his chance at relief.

“Now I’m going to uncuff you, and you’re going to stay still like a good boy. Do you understand?” Omega nodded enthusiastically. Terzo reached behind Omega and undid the cuffs, allowing them to fall onto the bed. Omega let his arms rest at his sides but didn’t move, frozen in place. Terzo looked Omega directly in the eyes, his hand on the clasp to remove the leash from the collar.

“You’ve been such a good ghoul,” Terzo repeated. “Such a good ghoul that I’m going to let you fuck me now. Is that what you want?” Omega whimpered and nodded, unable to find his voice. His breath was coming quick, almost hyperventilating. Terzo undid the leash, leaving the pink collar on Omega’s neck but freeing him from the bedframe.

Omega immediately pounced on him, pushing him back onto the bed and wedging himself between Terzo’s thighs. When he entered Terzo, it was with a cry from both of them, Omega’s of relief, Terzo’s of overstimulation. Omega looked at Terzo with concern in his eyes but found himself unable to speak.

“Nnn, don’t stop,” Terzo hissed, wanting to reassure Omega. His legs drew up Omega’s sides to wrap around his waist. Terzo’s nails scored down Omega’s back. His teeth bit into Omega’s shoulder, muffling his noises.

Omega began to thrust hard, resting his head on Terzo’s shoulder and looking down between them. He saw that Terzo was miraculously hard again. He watched himself fuck Terzo, a mesmerizing rhythm of in and out, in and out. He thrust harder, seeing a bulge in Terzo’s stomach in response. He swallowed hard. On second thought, he shouldn’t watch if he wanted to be able to last. That might be out of the question anyway, he thought. He was slipping quickly towards the edge. He needed to make Terzo cum first. He needed it with every fiber of his being.

He propped himself up, reaching down to grab Terzo’s cock. Omega began furiously stroking, trying to catch Terzo up to where he was currently teetering. Terzo moaned loudly, throwing his head back and grinding down on Omega. Terzo clung to Omega’s for dear life. Terzo had always been a vocal lover, but Omega was more grateful now than ever that the papal suite was in a secluded wing of the building.

Omega attempted to reach out to Terzo with his quintessence, to connect their minds in his need to come together, but Terzo shook his head.

“Too much,” was all he panted, unable to manage anything else. Terzo was probably right; he didn’t think he could hang on for much longer as it was. He gave a particularly hard thrust, hoping to finish Terzo off, but it wasn’t enough.

“Omega!” Terzo was spurred into crying. Omega had been good for far too long, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Terzo knew that saying his name drove Omega wild. Omega came with a pained yell, unable to stop his body’s reaction. He gnashed his teeth, snarling as he rode out the wave, but it kept coming. He felt so good that it almost hurt. It seemed unending, until slowly, mercifully, it began to ebb away. Unable to support his weight anymore, he slumped down on top of Terzo. Terzo let him lay there for a few minutes, stroking his back affectionately until he really was struggling to breathe.

“Amore. You are crushing me,” he said reluctantly, not wanting to lose his weight. Seeming to just now remember where he was, Omega drew out of Terzo and rolled off of him. He curled up beside Terzo, his face against Terzo’s neck, kissing. Pleading.

“I’m sorry, mio amato. I couldn’t hold on any longer.” His voice was full of genuine guilt as he remembered his earlier need to make Terzo cum. His hand traveled down Terzo’s body to grasp his cock. “Terzo. My Terzo. Please forgive me.” He slid down to nestle his head in the crook of Terzo’s arm, laying on his shoulder. The game was back on. He turned his face to catch Terzo’s nipple, swirling and sucking as he pumped him. Terzo groaned, back arching. Omega propped himself up to better reach the rest of Terzo’s chest, gently kissing and biting his way across it. He zeroed in on the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, stroking Terzo all the while.

Terzo tugged on Omega’s hair, urging him to raise his head up to Terzo’s level. Omega almost wished that the leash was back, wanting to feel the tug on his throat instead. As though he knew what Omega was thinking, Terzo grabbed him by the gold ring on his collar. Omega relished the pressure. He pulled him forward until their lips met in a bruising kiss. Terzo’s other hand slid down his stomach, grazing Omega’s hand that was still working him. It continued down until he slipped two fingers inside himself, still stretched from Omega. He was slick with Omega’s cum, leaking out of him. Omega pulled away, needing to see. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted more, more, more, but his body was tapped out. So he watched, and pumped, as Terzo touched himself. Terzo curled his fingers expertly, his hips again moving in time with his hand.

“Omega,” Terzo whispered, repeating it over and over like a prayer, spreading his legs further. Omega’s cock twitched uselessly, and he growled in frustration. He was still mad at himself; he always tried to make sure they finished together. Why couldn’t he have lasted just a few minutes more? But then, he would’ve missed such a beautiful sight.

Omega returned to Terzo’s nipple, still watching, unable to tear his eyes away. He pumped harder, faster, until Terzo’s breath was ragged. He kissed his way all the way up to Terzo’s ear, nipping. Omega was breathing heavily, too. He whispered encouragements and sweet nothings.

“Terzo… Mio amato… Please cum for me.” That did it. Terzo came across his own chest with an agonizing cry, orgasm tearing its way through his body. He shook hard, nearly sobbing, clutching desperately at Omega. Omega lapped up Terzo’s mess hungrily with his tongue. He cursed his own physical exhaustion; he never wanted this to end. He let his head rest on Terzo’s chest. When he could move again, Terzo rubbed Omega’s back, ran his hands through his hair.

“Come here,” Terzo ordered softly. When they were laying eye to eye, Terzo reached up and removed Omega’s collar. Omega’s neck felt sore. It must’ve been red and raw, because when Terzo saw the skin underneath, his eyes filled with guilt. “Oh, my poor, poor ghoul,” he said, placing several gentle kisses to his throat. Omega didn’t feel any pain, and wouldn’t have cared if he did. He was too blissfully happy to think about anything other than being in this moment with his husband.

“I am so sorry, mio caro. I got carried away, didn’t I?

“I’m fine, tesoro. Promise,” Omega assured him. He wasn’t quite ready to confess just how much he had enjoyed himself. Instead, he further tangled himself up in Terzo’s arms, basking in his warmth. After a few long minutes, Terzo tried to sit up, but Omega clung to him.

“Amore, I need to get up now,” Terzo said, voice gentle but firm. Omega reluctantly let him go. Omega felt even lonelier in Terzo’s absence than usual.

When Terzo returned it was with a warm, damp towel in hand. Tenderly he cleaned Omega up, peppering him with little kisses along the way. Omega let him finish before pulling him back down on the bed, eliciting a startled yelp from Terzo. He held Terzo close to his chest, nuzzling his face into Terzo’s hair and inhaling deeply. They stayed like that for so long that Omega almost fell asleep, until his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning. He had been so excited when he realized that he could spend the entire day with Terzo that he’d wasted no time getting ready. What time was it? Ugh. He didn’t want to know. The inevitable march of time just brought him closer to having to say goodbye. Terzo tried to get up, but Omega didn’t let him.

“Come on, amore, you’re hungry. Let me make us something,” Terzo said, trying again to sit. Omega relented. Terzo pushed up onto an elbow, gazing down at him. Omega leaned up to steal a kiss, but Terzo dodged him. “Let me take care of you.”

“You’re already taking care of me,” Omega said earnestly, looking up at him with big, soft eyes, pleading for Terzo to just stay in the bed with him. He took Terzo’s free hand and kissed his palm. Terzo carded a hand through Omega’s hair. He cupped Omega’s chin and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“I would love nothing more than to cuddle with you all day, amore, but one of us has to take charge. We aren’t in our 20s anymore, we cannot just fuck the day away. There is nothing wrong with taking a break.” Terzo stood, taking a particularly gratuitous stretch. “Besides, you need to keep up your strength,” Terzo winked.

Omega’s jaw fell slack for a second, a bolt of electricity shooting through him. He closed his eyes, composed his face, and took Terzo’s outstretched hand. Terzo got Omega’s dressing gown and retrieved his own from the sitting room floor. He tried to make Omega sit on the sofa and wait while he cooked for him, but Omega was having none of it. He followed him around the kitchen like a lost puppy. When Terzo had finally gathered everything he needed and was settled at the stove, Omega wrapped his arms around Terzo’s waist and rested his head on his shoulder. Terzo hummed happily.

When they had everything plated, Omega pulled his chair around to the other side of the table to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Terzo. He was unwilling to allow more than an inch between them. They talked and joked as they ate, occasionally feeding each other in turns. When they were done, Omega helped Terzo with the dishes. Omega was in domestic bliss. This was such a rare taste of the life he craved with Terzo. That they craved together. Acknowledging the rarity threatened to turn it bittersweet, but he wouldn’t let it. No. Nothing was going to ruin today. This day was a gift, and he would treasure it as such.

After lunch, they both settled down on the sofa together. They started out sitting side by side, but at some point, Omega’s head had ended up in Terzo’s lap. Terzo ran a hand through Omega’s hair, reading to him. When they reached a natural stopping point, Terzo set the book aside and looked down at Omega. He took one of Omega’s hands in his own and threaded their fingers together before kissing the back of it.

“Thank you for being so good for me today. My ghoul,” Terzo said, eyes hooded. He gave Omega’s hand another kiss, and then another. Omega sucked in a breath. He sat up, careful not to bump Terzo’s nose. Their lips met in a tender kiss. When it broke, Omega rubbed at the back of his neck, staring at the ground sheepishly before asking:

“Can we, um… Can we do that again?”

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libby-for-life · 1 day

Text

A Dragon's Tale part 3! I would read parts 1 and 2 first before you read this. Enjoy! For @inubaki

I hope you like it!

Adam grinned as he flew down into the trenches of Hell. He waited for months for Extermination Day to happen. He had been training with his girls for this particular day and he finally found a way to release all the pent-up anger and pain he was experiencing from hiding his celestial form for so long without reprive.

He shot another Sinner with holy light and grinned as they exploded across the cracked pavement. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a demon running into an alley. Smirking, he followed the filth and cornered them to the wall.

"Please....I'm sorry...." The Sinner begged and Adam faltered.

"Dad...I'm sorry! I didn't mean for any of this to happen!"

Adam looked into the eyes of his prey and saw the fear and hopelessness in his blue orbs. How he was crying and begging for Adam, an angel, to spare his life. He should have ignored him. He should have killed him instead of listening to the begging of the forsaken.

The Sinner didn't look like anything remotely human but whenever he looked into those eyes...all he could see was—

Cain.

Adam felt like he's going to be sick and it doesn't help when Lute flies in front of him and stabs the Sinner in his throat. He gurgled and sputtered but the light eventually left his eyes and he slumped onto the floor dead for good this time.

"It's mercy, Adam. They're living a life of debauchery. Sin and pain. The kindest thing is to end it for them. Quickly of course." Sera had said when she gave him his weapon to use in battle. "This is for Heaven. You are protecting your home."

"Sir? Are you okay?" Lute asked as she cleaned her blade. Adam swallowed the lump in his throat. "Y-yeah...let's just get this day over with."

XxX

Adam was feeling completely lost. He found himself pacing back and forth across the wooden floors of his dimly lit apartment. It had been nearly three hours since he had last moved from the same spot. The urge to spread his dragon wings and take flight had been building up inside him for what felt like an eternity. Adam felt like he was going stir-crazy, having to hide his true nature for months on end. He couldn't help but let out a frustrated growl, trying to shake off the feeling of being trapped. As much as he tried to push through it, he couldn't escape the fact that he had been holding back for too long. He had endured longer periods without embracing his true form, but this time it felt different.

"Come on, Adam. Be a man," He growled out, but it came out as more of a whimper. "You can do this! You just had Extermination Day." He had the chance to do something that Heaven had all but begged him to do since he got here into Heaven, going into Hell to take care of the Sinners, and Adam had thought that would be the time to get all his restlessness taken care of. He was wrong.

Adam's restless energy surged within him, his celestial form straining against his human-like facade. As a surge of discomfort prickled his skin, he clenched his jaw and bit his lip to stifle the sensation. Unable to endure another moment in the confines of Heaven, Adam hastily conjured a portal and stepped through, his urgency overriding any caution. Emerging on the other side, he found himself standing in a vast, unfamiliar field within the realm of Wrath. With a deep breath, he closed the portal behind him and relinquished his human guise, allowing his true celestial form to emerge.

Adam let out a choked laugh as his wings burst through his back and his form grew until he was the celestial dragon he was made to be. Adam flew in the air, rolling in the fields as he stretched his limbs. So far, no annoying other dragon had—his thoughts were cut off when he was tackled to the dirt.

Adam's frustration boiled over as he realized that the creature had returned much sooner than he had hoped. "I'm really not up for this right now," he muttered through gritted teeth. In a surge of anger, he seized the dragon by the neck, drawing it close without concern for its feathers. "I've had a really rough day, and I won't let you spoil it. Got it?"

The dragon tilted his head and licked his snout. Adam blinked and looked at the dragon and its boldness. "What the fuck?!" He finally sputtered out.

He throws the dragon away as far as he could and he could feel everything finally spill over. "I SAID LEAVE ME ALONE!" He yelled as tears fell down his cheeks and he curled into a ball of mixed emotions. Choked sobs left him and he growled every few seconds.

He expected the dragon to fight him; he did just throw a wild animal away or even abandoned him like everyone else did. Just like Heaven had done.

More tears fell off his snout and curled tighter into his protective ball when he heard that damned dragon come closer again. Couldn't that fucking animal take a hint?! Instead of tackling him, or trying to wrestle again, he does something unexpected.

The dragon slowly leaned its head down and gently laid it on top of him. Its long, slender tongue poked out and it softly licked his head in a comforting manner that Adam found completely unfamiliar. As Adam opened his eyes, he was met with a pair of piercing red eyes—eyes that exuded an intelligence far beyond that of any mere animal.

As Adam murmured, "Who are you?" all he received in response was a comforting lick on the cheek. In that moment, Adam was too overwhelmed to question what was happening, and he simply allowed the dragon to provide him with comfort. He felt the dragon's warm, protective presence surrounding him, which caused him to release a sigh of contentment as the dragon shifted to lie on its back. Adam couldn't help but notice that the dragon seemed larger than before, and this made him feel smaller in comparison, but not in a negative way. In fact, it made him feel protected.

"Sorry I, um,....sorry," Adam struggled to find the right words, feeling a sense of unfamiliarity as he attempted to apologize. It was a stark contrast to his previous existence, where apologies were a rarity. The irony of the situation struck him - in Heaven, he never had to apologize for anything, yet here he was, expressing remorse in Hell. As he nervously spoke, the dragon exhaled heavily, and although its tongue grazed his cheek once more, Adam took it as a sign of forgiveness.

Adam fell asleep once more and Lucifer looked down at Adam’s sleeping form. "Hmm...to think there would be a day where you would apologize...and to me, a dragon, of all people." He said with a smirk.

He gently licked once more, savoring the unique taste of Adam, and chuckled. "I guess anything can happen." He had no idea what happened but Adam was clearly in distress, crying of all things as he yelled at Lucifer to leave.

Lucifer had known he needed to be careful. Anything could happen when Adam was that volatile. So, he had gently comforted him, hoping that would make him stop crying. He was lucky it worked. Lilith used to do that.

She seemed to have lost interest in everything, and Lucifer longed for the days when their relationship was more fulfilling. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were growing apart, and her words had become colder and more hurtful. It appeared that nothing he did could please her anymore. Despite this, he was determined to find a way to mend their relationship.

Lucifer fell into a shaky sleep, the only thing making it better was that he wasn't alone.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adamsapple #hazbin hotel lucifer #dragon au

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adachimoe · 3 days

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A long and meandering post about Adachi and the Investigation Team

I have no idea what to title or describe this as. This is a long ass rambling 2.5k+ word post that consists of like 5 drafts I had sitting around that all felt somewhat related. It starts with the part where the Investigation Team tells Adachi to get over himself, then devolves into talking about Adachi punching himself in the face repeatedly (metaphorically), before ending by exploring the idea of Adachi as the Investigation Team's collective Shadow. it rly is tl;dr.

Adachi will remember that

At one point in Magatsu Inaba, the Investigation Team takes turns responding to Adachi in verbal turn-based combat. They all have varying responses and levels of understanding of him.

Chie doesn't understand why Adachi even became a cop, Rise thinks he's full of shit, Kanji tells him a 2008 version of "go kys" (tbf, he's never been eloquent with words), Yukiko tells Adachi that he sounds like a kid, Naoto calls him out for finding life annoying while being a damn annoyance, and Yosuke tells him he's just a criminal.

What Yukiko says to him in particular appears to sting Adachi, evident by how he "!" emotes in reaction to her. Or idk maybe he's secretly into getting bullied by women. I think Yukiko has Adachi's number here, and he knows that. After all, part of his schtick is that, "Oh, you stupid fuckin' kids, you don't know what I've been through or how I feel! Get off my dungeon lawn!!!" And yet, one of those stupid kids is able to tl;dr his life. He later even repeats what she said back at Sho during P4U2.

What Yukiko says here, I think, stands out in particular not just because of Adachi's reaction but also because it resembles a sentiment found in other media: The contradiction of being alive while not "truly" being alive. This often goes like so: A character can be alive in that they are most certainly physically living and breathing, but they are largely closed off from the rest of the world and going through the motions. Thus they are said to not truly be alive.

In the context of Persona 4, I believe Adachi fits in with this trope. As Yukiko has assessed, life sucks, but it's not like he's in any hurry to die. From what we see of Adachi in the plot, he's going through the motions. He wakes up, goes to his job, goes to Junes to bum free air conditioning, and sometimes gets dragged over to Dojima's house.

I don't think it's bad that people fall into these routines by default. Some find them comforting, some appreciate the simplicity, and some make up for the monotony of adult life with the more fascinating things they do outside of work.

But this doesn't apply to Adachi, who openly groans about his life and job. He seems to want to live and fit in with society, but he wants to do with more than what he has right now, yet he also seems unwilling or unable to put in the effort to get what he wants. He tells us he's lonely and wants a girlfriend, but when the old woman from his Social Link tries to hook him up with a girl, he finds it all annoying. He thinks of himself as an elite detective who is above Inaba, but he is regularly made out to be incompetent, sloppy, and careless.

It's like he's stuck but not doing anything to become unstuck. Following the tropes, Adachi would move from being a character who is "alive without really being alive" to "Truly Living" once he figures out how to get himself un-stuck. If he truly wants to be a hotshot detective in the big city with a smokin' hot wife, then something needs to change because he won't get those things as he is now. But how does Adachi approach the subject of "change"?

Maybe the world really is just a shitshow?

Adachi being exposed as the murderer is a major turning point for the murder investigation. And after the Investigation Team chases him into the TV, one of the many things he talks about is "change", or rather a lack of change.

As far as Adachi is concerned, the world can't / won't / doesn't change. He criticizes the world and its inability to change, how society works, and how people will latch to whatever you tell them as the truth.

Some things he says might resonate with us, especially nowadays with the spread of social media and misinformation. However, despite these criticisms, it sounds like he still desires to be part of society. He has been trying to blend in as a normal guy since April despite being a murderer. I think it's worth reiterating that his complaints about his life weren't anarchist but more like, "I don't have a cute girlfriend who cooks for me." Furthermore, he was trying to take advantage of misinformation to get away with murder by pinning it on Namatame.

Adachi doesn't like the current world and doesn't think it will change. Thus, he is forcing it to change in a completely catastrophic way. He really is throwing a tantrum: Like, what, you can't get away with murder? All right, throw the whole world away. With this approach, it is not Adachi who must change to fit in with the world, but rather the world that must change to fit Adachi.

Change isn't a good subject with him, which, honestly, is relatable. Change is easier said than done. Even within Persona 4 itself, after getting Magical TV Powers, an event that feasibly might add spice to one's life!!, the same old routine still runs Adachi's life. What has changed is that he's now waiting for Namatame to kill someone. Showing up looking for a dead body in the shopping district is simply a new part of his routine.

This topic of Adachi and change gets wrapped up after the fight against Amenosagiri. Adachi challenges the Investigation Team: >>>If<<< they think they have the power to change the future, then do it.

After entering the TV World, Amenosagiri responds to Adachi's wish and makes his wish come true as the dungeon deadline bad ending shows. That was Adachi's own so-called power to change the future. So what is the Investigation Team's?

Yosuke then replies that everyone has the power to change their future. As in, you don't need special powers from a gigantic disco eyeball inside of a TV to do that. In context, Yosuke is telling Adachi, "This is a 'you' problem," or "Skill issue." And tbh, I think Yosuke is more or less correct here.

In which we revisit the topic of "dumbass" and effort

In some ways, this topic might seem odd to approach. Everyone on the Investigation Team - besides Chie - seems to have a better life situation than Adachi had when he was their age. Are they punching down? Perhaps it feels like a hollow reflection of the collectivist culture that the solution to these antagonists who go "BUT SOCIETY IS WHAT IS WRONG" is always to beat them up and force them to conform--

…..but hold on. That line of thought would be giving in to what Adachi says before his boss battle. And, based on how he quits talking about how "waaah society is unfair" afterward, I find it difficult to think that is what he genuinely believes about his situation.

When I suggest that Yosuke is correct, I don't mean this in a "You aren't special, Adachi, everyone else's life sucks too, just deal with it" kind of way. What I have in mind is how the game seems to support that this is an Adachi problem, not an everyone else problem. Throughout Adachi's Social Link, his other interactions, and what Atlus has said as meta / Word of God answers, you get the idea that people were trying with Adachi, but he wasn't meeting them halfway.

For example:

This entire post is about the effort the MC puts in just to get called a dumbass (though I'd bet that the protag considers Adachi calling him a dumbass to be like a Badge of Honor). Even their gay ass Fever Time in P4D tells the story of Yu trying to reach out and Adachi going, "No!!!"

The old woman in his Social Link is trying to wingwoman for him and hook him up with women in Inaba, but Adachi seems unwilling. Instead, he tells Nanako and the protagonist that he's never getting married. Despite his loneliness, he justifies himself by saying, "Marriage is the graveyard of a man's life."

The Dojima family and Adachi interact briefly throughout the game, both in the story scenes and in his Social Link. As his letter at the end of the game shows, Adachi felt lukewarm about their interactions because he wasn't quite aware of what he had with them until he no longer has their company.

The way I see it, when Adachi rants about the world not changing, he is not actually bitching about the world. Rather, this feels more like a form of projection. He says the world doesn't change, but perhaps he is talking about himself and his own inability to change. Which would reframe it as more like… He knows he's the issue that holds himself back - his own worst enemy, perhaps - but he says the world is wrong to justify himself.

You learn a bit about Adachi through his Social Link. During rank 6, in dialogue that can tragically be missed, Adachi will admit that he is lonely, but he also thinks it's easier that way. And really, easier is just another way of saying "less effort".

On one hand, this might show Adachi's annoyance with other people. But at the same time, for him to call the protagonist a dumbass for investing so much in him and their relationship, I think the unspoken bit here is that Adachi does not think he is worth the time or effort, to begin with. His lack of effort isn't just him being annoyed with people or not giving a shit about things. I'm no expert, but I think the majority of us would wager that this is depression.

As the game's timeline unfolds, we really only know Adachi as the pathetic, silly murder guy. Did he start distancing himself from people because of the "oops, I murdered someone" part? Or was he like this even before then? When he talks more about his past, he doesn't go into a great amount of detail.

Going with my gut here, but I get the feeling that Adachi's obsession with Mayumi - something from before he became a murderer - suggests his distance from people is not a new thing for him. Consider: Meeting people? Forming relationships? Even before we talk about romance, how the hell do you even make friends as an adult? (The answer is BL btw. Go find some girlies who ship the same pairing.) I think Adachi said fuck it to all that bullshit. It'd be easier - less effort - for him to just be alone.

But… What if the magical TV just tells you exactly who your soulmate is? Well, shit, that's easy. For the lonely guy who just got transferred to Inaba and generally keeps his distance from people, I imagine it would be quite convenient to just be told, "This is who your soulmate is".

And that wouldn't be the last time Adachi gets a freebie from the TV. It happens again in December, as Adachi finds an again "easy" solution that does not involve changing himself or doing something annoying that requires effort from him. Having been enabled by the magical TV, Adachi is something of a static character.

Adachi is the Investigation Team's Shadow

In the P4G Premium Fan/Fun/Fsomething book, Atlus defines the Shadow by the Jungian definition, then talks about how the Shadows in-game represent "alternate possibilities" for the characters. The specific example it gives is how Chie's Shadow holds a great deal of animosity towards Yukiko. The real Chie doesn't feel this way towards Yukiko; in fact, she treasures her. Thus, Chie's Shadow is an alternate possibility.

When you look at Chie and what she says about accepting her Shadow, her Shadow seems to be born from a real insecurity (her jealousy of Yukiko) and part of it really does resemble Chie. But part of her Shadow is also this… caricature-esque thing. Hence why Atlus calls it the "alternate possibility". In turn, Chie accepts that she is jealous of Yukiko, but she does not accept the Banana Hat Dominatrix trying to exert control over Yukiko. She even realizes that rather than Yukiko needing her, it was actually her who needed Yukiko.

(I refuse to carry on with this train of thought further than talking about Atlus's own example with Chie because it would inevitably mean having to talk about how Atlus sees Kanji and Naoto's issues/Shadows/dungeons, and I'd need like bottles of wine to get in the mood to even type a paragraph of that.)

During her P4G winter Social Link scene, where her Persona evolves, Chie brings up Adachi and how she could have become him. She continues that anyone could have turned out like him.

Indeed, Adachi very much feels like a, "this could happen to anyone" character. He is an everyday normal guy who accidentally gets involved in something beyond him: a Like a Dragon side story NPC stuck in a game about high schoolers and friendship. Based on how you see these characters, you can correlate many of their issues to Adachi's own issues.

Really, in some ways, he feels like he was written to be the sum of the Investigation Team's insecurities, all bundled into one guy. As Chie's Shadow twisted her jealousy of Yukiko into a desire to control Yukiko and showed an alternate possibility for who Chie could have become if she had let jealousy consume her, perhaps Adachi shows an alternate possibility for who all of them could become.

As Amenosagiri later reveals, the truth torments the Shadows. Your party identifies that is what causes the Shadows to attack people.

When we consider how the game has gone until now, then those moments where the Investigation Team told their Shadows, "You're not me!" must be the moment that Amenosagiri was describing. The members of the Investigation Team come face to face with a being who claims to be them and seems aware of the same issues that gnaw at them. But these beings pervert their issues issues in a direction that doesn't reflect who the Investigation Team really are. And so they challenge that this being is truly them. They, sigh, "reach out to the truth", and it causes their Shadows to go nutso and attack.

And, of course, these repeated scenes where they tell their Shadows all lead up to the last time we see this kind of sequence...

Just as the Investigation Team had to face themselves and pick apart the truths from the caricature, they, too, come to face Adachi and can cut through the bullshit, rejecting his attempts to justify why it's okay for him to merge the TV World into reality and screw everyone over.

That said, though, if we are to compare him to their Shadows, then we must acknowledge that, much like how the Investigation Team's Shadows come from their own real insecurities, Adachi's frustrations with the Investigation Team and with the world at large must also come from something real.

On this screenshotted line in particular, he even uses the more masculine "ore" as his pronoun in Japanese. He usually uses the more boyish "boku", but he seems to swap to "ore" to indicate that he is speaking quite genuinely--or perhaps speaking from the heart.

While he is a whiny murderer throwing an apocalyptic tantrum, I'm sure there are circumstances that made him the person that he is as an adult. Tbh, I've already made a lot of posts talking about the factors that might have contributed to *why* he feels like this, so I won't drag this out further.

By Arena Ultimax, Adachi has come to accept the murder case as the inciting incident that causes him to change as he finds himself finally owning up to his actions from the previous year. He's no role model lol, but life now has more meaning to him than just something you go through every day. Perhaps it's at this moment that he can be said to have gone from merely being alive to living.

(Let's be real tho, jail gives you 3 non-cup noodle meals per day? Damn. It's like he's living his best life. Speaking of which, food feels like such a fitting metaphor for his emotional nourishment.)

In the aftermath of the dungeon and the almost-end-of-the-world, Adachi agreed to start playing by the rules, and became more of a dynamic character. At the beginning of Ultimax, Adachi's commitment to this gets questioned as Yu, Yosuke, and Chie find him allied with Sho (like 5 cutscenes after Yu is so confidant he's behaving himself too, tsk tsk). But Yu reaches the roof, hears Adachi's cringe ass dialogue (I'm pretty sure that Adachi would not have said half that shit if he had known Yu was standing around the corner), and reaffirms his belief that Adachi was genuine about his promise to play by the rules.

The Investigation Team are not on the best of terms with Adachi. Regardless, they went into his dungeon, called him out on his bullshit that had been mixed in with his own real shortcomings and insecurities, punched him, and as we can tell by Ultimax, came to accept him in their own ways as they did their individual Shadows. As Yu says, perhaps they have strangely enough decided to trust in Adachi.

#tohru adachi #adachi brainrot #i think there is some untapped comedic potential in adachi being the investigation team's asshole non-mentor #persona 4 #persona 4 golden #p4 #p4g #persona 4 arena ultimax #p4au #p4u2 #chie satonaka #yosuke hanamura #yu narukami #yukiko amagi

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iipoisonedbutterfly · 18 hours

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SPEAK UP

001. WARNINGS: mdni, yandere character(s), mentions of murder, violence, obsession, delusion sanemi, masturbation, kidnapping, blackmail, manipulation, forced relationship, controlling behavior

002. CHARACTERS: sanemi shinazugawa — kny

003. PAIRINGS: yandere!sanemi x quiet fem!reader, collage au

004. SYNOPSIS: sanemi, notorious for being loud and brash, ends up being obsessed with you, the quiet girl on campus.

005. WORD COUNT: 382

006. NOTES: (requested by anon) apologies this took so long, i’ve been having a bit of writers block but i’m trying to get back into the swing of things. anyways, i hope you enjoy this! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

yandere!sanemi who can’t stand how quiet you were, you wouldn’t even stand up for yourself. it pissed him off how you just let everyone walk all over you.

yandere!sanemi who decides to ‘take care’ of everyone who’s been messing with you. recently, a few students have stopped showing up to their classes.

yandere!sanemi who starts following you around campus, noting down everyone who talks to you. later on, he looks into their backgrounds, getting rid of all the sleazy ones—they don’t deserve to talk to you.

yandere!sanemi who tries to talk to you but ends up fumbling his words despite you not saying anything to him. it was the way you looked at him, most people were terrified of his appearance but you even do so much as bat an eye.

yandere!sanemi who finds himself with conflicted emotions. he’s never had someone not be scared of him. though on the other hand, he prides himself in his rugged appearance. why weren’t you scared of him like everyone else?

yandere!sanemi who found himself unable to sleep that night, his head full of questions and thought of you. with the image of you in his head, his once-innocent thoughts start to drift into more sinister ones.

yandere!sanemi who finds himself jerking off to you, imagining that it was your mouth around his twitching cock instead of his fist. the thought of you finding out about his twisted desires makes a knot form in his stomach, would you be scared of him now?

yandere!sanemi who decides that he needs to have you for himself, he won’t let anyone else have you—they don’t deserve someone like you. he’s determined to make you his.

yandere!sanemi who corners you in an alleyway on your way home from class, he’s quick to knock you out and stealthily shove you into his car.

yandere!sanemi who threatens to start killing anyone who talks to you if you don’t agree to date him, leaving you little choice for refusal. eventually, he lets you go under the condition that you also move in with him.

yandere!sanemi who forces you to make all your social media accounts private so only he can see them. he doesn’t want any of your average scumbags to come across your profile and get the wrong idea.

yandere!sanemi who brags about you to practically everyone on campus, often finding the nearest person and then proceeding to talk their ear off about you. now almost everyone on the campus knows about your relationship.

yandere!sanemi who doesn’t let you talk to any other guys with the exception his best friend obanai—who is aware of his friend’s obsessive feelings towards you, and in fact even enables it.

yandere!sanemi who insists on being by you 24/7, he had his arm wrapped around your shoulder or his hands somewhere on your body at all times to let any onlookers know that you were his.

#—tainted thoughts !#sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer sanemi #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #sanemi smut #shinazugawa sanemi #yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere x reader #tw: violence #tw: murder #tw: yandere #tw: blackmail #tw: kidnapping #dark content #dddne #dead dove

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carnelianly · 7 hours

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this post contains noncon! please don’t read if that will be upsetting! i would never promote this in real life, and people, men or women, are always unable to consent to any kind of contact while intoxicated!

art is your friend. not your boyfriend. not your dog that you can tug around on a leash like you seem to think you can. he has a girlfriend. he’s madly in love with her. he doesn’t want you. sure, he can acknowledge that you’re pretty and he can tell himself, in the comforts of his own head ‘if i were single, i’d.. definitely go for her’. in another life, maybe he was yours. not in this one.

but he was invited out to the bar by patrick who also invited you and a couple other friends and he doesn’t mind your presence at all. you’re.. you’re nice enough. you may make him a little nervous when you smile like that, but that’s not for him to say. he keeps himself polite but distant in conversation with you.

he drinks a little too much. patrick always suggests shots and what is art supposed to do? say no? look like a pussy?

he downs them anyway, one after another until it’s two hours later and he forgets he’s barely eaten much all day and there’s so much alcohol in his system that he can’t stand up straight.

not to worry, you’re them to catch him before he falls over. patrick and the others are off talking about some nonsense, but you’re being so nice and helpful, you wipe the drool from his chin and fix his hair and he smiles faintly at you in gratitude.

you smile back at him, one arm holding him up since he’s not stable enough to stand on his own, half leaning on the bar counter and half relying on you to keep him up. your other hand is… art isn’t really paying attention. feels weird, though. it’s between his thighs, rubbing the skin softly, almost teasingly. art isn’t coherent enough to understand what’s happening.

you’re smiling at him, telling him everything is gonna be fine, because it will be. everything will be okay. he doesn’t have to worry, you’ll take care of him, keep him safe. there’s so many bad people in this world that might try to hurt him, steal his wallet, take advantage of him. you’re not like that. you’re just gonna keep talking to him like this until it’s time to leave and then you’re gonna take him home. he’s too drunk to get back to his place by himself, so you’ll just let him stay at yours. so gracious of you.

he listens because he has no other choice, and he’s not as much letting you touch him but not able to stop you. your hand is on his crotch, massaging him through his jeans, and he moans and he falls forward into you, resting his head on your shoulder. he’s weak. unable to do anything but take this treatment. your hand that was keeping him upright moves to his ass, always so plump and thick, god, he obviously does it for his girlfriend but he might as well have done it for you, in this moment.

you could so easily take what you wanted from him, especially because you’re sure he’s about to black out and remember nothing. but you’re a better person than that, you tell yourself. you’re just touching, you’re not gonna break anything.

you end up taking him into the bathroom, and he’s too drunk to know what he’s doing, but hey, he kissed you first, even if he’s tripping over his own feet and practically drooling into your mouth. it’s hot, and you feel him up some more. it feels wrong to fuck him, too permanent. he’d definitely know what happened then. he’s smart when he’s sober, smart enough anyway.

in the end, he’s taken home with patrick and a couple of buddies, taking a shared uber home while art is blacked out, while you go off by yourself.

the next time you see art, he definitely does not remember what happened that night. he does feel a little weird around you, but he can’t quite put his finger on why your presence is so.. uncomfortable all of a sudden…

#in an alternate universe where art is dating tashi and is still friends with patrick :3 #art donaldson #challengers #challengers art #art x reader #challengers art donaldson #challengers fic #challengers x reader #challengers smut #p♡

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panleystarable · 1 year

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Something something every time you completely mute the narrator he is screaming something something stanley being controlled by the player meaning he is forced to push the skip button, jump off the stairs, and even turn on the mind control device leading to certain death

#something something doomed by the narrative #it always hurts me when i realize in the not stanley ending that stanley physically becomes incapable of doing anything without the player #he just stands there. unable to move or do anything at all #no wonder he needs the bucket #its the closest thing to therapy in the building #the stanley parable #stanley parable #stanley parable ultra deluxe #tsp stanley #tsp narrator #tsp bucket #tsp zending #tsp #tspud

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odoraful · 20 days

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𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄.ᐟ

what happens when you don't use their pet name to call them?

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; more dialogue heavy; silly and cute

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ZAYNE ⟡

“Can you help me put this on, Zayne?”

From the reflection in the mirror, you tried not to react at the twist in his brow and the momentary confusion in his eyes. Wordlessly, he moved behind you, fingers taking the necklace out of your hand. With his gaze focused on the task before him, you could see him open his mouth, hesitating to speak.

“Did I do something wrong?” he questioned.

Zayne’s deft hands carefully laid the chain around your neck, centering the pendent between your collarbones.

You plastered on your most innocent expression, despite the twinge of guilt you felt at his question.

“Hm? Why do you ask?”

Swiftly, he clasped the ends of the chain together. His eyes flicked towards yours in the mirror.

“You’re calling me by my first name. I thought pet names were an important step in a relationship for you.”

You nodded. “Yes, Zayne, I do think it’s an important step.”

His eyes narrowed at your continual uncharacteristic responses.

Folding his arms, he mused aloud. “It took you some time to drop the title ‘doctor’ for me and to just use my name. After we became official, you were quick to call me ‘love’.”

You fiddled with your necklace, trying to, impossibly, force away the heat from your face.

“So, either I did something to make you upset, or”—he leaned in close to you, the side of his face almost touching yours—“you’re playing a trick on me.”

You gave a mock frown. He cocked his head to the side, awaiting your response.

“Okay, okay, it was a prank.” Sighing, you surrendered to his deductions. “I wanted to see how you’d react, but you saw right through me,” you mumbled.

His lips quirked. “I’ve known you for long enough to figure these things out.”

Wanting to wipe off the amused look he had on his face, you quickly planted a kiss on his cheek. His face turned into surprise. He chuckled, shaking his head at your triumphant smile.

“Thank you for helping me, my love."

SYLUS ⟡

“Sylus, could you play that new record you bought?”

You called from the sofa. Standing by the record player, he turned to face you. The offence on his face was unmistakable as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Sylus?” he scoffed. “We both know that’s not what you call me.”

Your brows furrowed, feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Isn’t that your name?”

“Sweetie,” he levelled a look scepticism at you, “that hasn’t been my name for the past month we’ve been together.”

“I still don’t know what you mean, Sylus.”

He paused. Gears turned in his head trying to unpack what was happening, much like he would do when reading the truthfulness of a dealer during a bargain.

“Y/N.”

You’ve never heard your own name being said in such a serious manner. Perhaps you got a taste of your own medicine.

“I’m not particularly fond of lose-lose situations.” The softness in his tone made you feel weak. “You can tell me if I’ve done something to annoy you. I won’t be angry.”

“Not at all!” you quickly blurted out. Unable to hide it any longer, you confessed. “You haven’t done anything to annoy me. I was just trying to pull a small prank.”

All the tension visibly released from his body. A relieved sigh escaped him. “You really do play some dangerous games, kitten.”

Playfulness returned to his voice. “Now then, how will you correct your mistake?”

“Honey,” you drawled out each syllable, making it sound as syrupy as the nickname itself, “could you play that new record you bought now?”

Sylus couldn’t help but laugh at your exaggeration. “Why of course.”

XAVIER ⟡

“Xavier, do you want to try this?”

Subtly glancing at his reaction from the kitchen, you saw his face immediately fall into a pout. The look was fatal, and it took all the willpower you had not to drop the ruse right then and there.

“That’s not my name,” he answered.

“What do you mean?” you chuckled, continuing to put icing on the sugar cookies you baked. “Of course it is!”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted.

Placing his book down, he walked to stand at your side by the counter. You avoided his eye contact, pretending that nothing was amiss.

Resting a hand under his chin, he began to think. “You usually call me bunny, sweetheart, sunshine, or darling.”

Your jaw dropped in amused shock. “You remember all the names I’ve called you?”

His mouth twitches. “There are some more, but… they might be a bit embarrassing to say aloud right now.”

That was enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

“Xavier!” Your face turned pink as you slapped his shoulder. There was no force behind the hit, but enough to convey your embarrassment.

“You did it again. You used the wrong name.” He stuck his bottom lip out.

You gently poked at his cheek, trying to lift the corner of his lip upwards. “Come on, don’t be sad darling.”

Immediately, he brightened before you.

“It was just a joke I saw couples do online. I wanted to see how you’d react.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And was my reaction satisfactory?”

“I think it was,” you smiled at him, "but it’s a shame I didn’t film it, it would’ve made for a good Moments post.”

He shook his head. “But, the nicknames we use are only for us.”

The finished cookie in your hand had a bite suddenly taken from it as Xavier leaned down to have a taste.

“I don’t want anyone else to know.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

“Are you ready to go yet, Rafayel?”

He continued to hum to himself, completely ignoring you. You folded your arms as you watched him busy himself with something trivial. He flung open a random cupboard and inspected what appeared to be an assortment of spare art supplies.

“Rafayel,” you called again.

He then turned his attention to the fishbowl in the centre of the room, where a small orange fish darted around.

“Reddie, do you hear something?” he asked, gazing so earnestly into the bowl. This fish paused its movement and stared back at his owner.

“Rafayel~” you sang his name aloud this time, extending the last syllable.

He gasped, apparently receiving some confirmation from Reddie.

“You hear something too? Thank god. I was thinking there must be something wrong with my ears.”

Surveying the room around him, Rafayel intentionally looked past you standing barely a few metres from him, tapping your foot against the wooden floorboards of his studio.

“It sounds like”—he continued—“some kind of voice. Someone familiar to me, but I can’t make out who it is.”

“Rafayel!” you shouted his name between fits of laughter. Only he could respond to your jokes with his own dramatics.

He sucked in a breath in puzzlement. “I wonder who this person is calling out to.”

“Baby,” you finally conceded, “I’m talking to you!”

It seemed like he couldn’t keep up the act either, as he started laughing with you.

“Took you long enough,” he huffed, moving towards you and linking your arm with his. “Otherwise, Reddie and I would have been searching for this phantom voice for the rest of the day.”

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murdrdocs · 1 month

Text

go about things the wrong way

description. LOGAN HOWLETT proves himself to be a bit of a hypocrite

includes. SMUT 18+, age gap (reader is implied to be mid20s, logan assumed to be mid30s), protected piv, denial is a river in egypt logan fucks them younger, logan calls reader "kid", insomnia trope, slightly brat reader, remnants of angst, set during early x-men

wc. 5k

a/n: photo creds unknown. title from how soon is now? by the smiths

You should be in your own bedroom.

It’s a nice room, decorated better than your childhood room in your parent’s house, likely because you’ve grown since your mint green and chevron phase. It’s silent in your room, no other inhabitants except you and your pet fish that was somehow still hanging on. There’s no reason for you to leave your room, it has everything you need. But it’s not right.

The loneliness is uncomfortable amidst your inability to sleep. It hovers over your bed, staring down at your shuffling frame as you try multiple positions, each one leaving you as restless as the last. You know that’s why you venture off to the kitchen, the search for companionship outweighing the desire for a treat. You just need to talk to someone, remind yourself that you aren’t all alone. There are other people like you, and you live with them. You’re safe.

You ended up finding what you desired—a non-freezer burnt ice cream bar buried beneath frozen waffles, and a warm body to stand opposite of as you steadily made your way through it.

You wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, maybe not even yourself, but you had hoped to run into Logan the entire time. Ever since his return you had been itching to get a glimpse of him, but between shadowing Storm, Scott, and Jean, and tending to whatever menial chore Professor Xavier tasked you with, you didn’t have any time for run-ins. Nothing but quick passing in the hallway where you were too shy to do much other than meet his eye for a second, wave, and then scurry along towards the end of the hallway.

But you had gotten what you wanted when you heard the soft thud of feet followed by the sound of Logan speaking.

“Is there another one of those?”

You face him with your mouth stuffed with ice cream. It takes you a second to chew enough to speak around the food without making a complete fool of yourself in front of Logan.

“This is the last one …” you swallow, ignoring the sting of the cold at the back of your throat. “Sorry.”

Logan shrugs like it’s no big deal and he steps to the fridge. You move out of the way, even though you weren’t really in the way at all, and try to be casual as you chew the remains of your bar, ignoring the sudden warmth in your body now that he’s here.

Logan doesn’t say anything. You watch the top half of his body disappear as he reaches into the fridge for something, coming out after a minute and some soft shuffling later with a beer bottle in his hand. You don’t know when it got there, and you’re amazed that it was still there and not stolen by some eager teenager. You try not to stare as he takes his first sip, but you sneak a few glances.

You finish your sandwich, throwing the wrapper out in the drawer trash can and trying your best to ignore Logan’s eyes on you the entire time. He gets halfway through his beer before he says something.

Leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle and one arm tucked across his chest, he asks, “Can’t sleep, right?”

You nod, not shocked at all that he has you pegged. It’s not unsurprising for a mutant in this place to be unable to sleep.

Logan nods as if he understands and you know he does, you remember the incident with Rogue just a year or so ago, that and the stories you hear about him wandering the halls at night. It’s why you’d always been so eager to slip down here during restless nights, constantly hoping that this would happen to you.

And now that it has happened, you don’t know what to do. There’s not much for you to discuss with Logan, the two of you don’t have all that much in common. He’s far older than you, for starters, at least a decade and a half on you from what you’ve gathered. He’s been gone for a while, but you think the others have caught him up on everything that he’s missed already.

So you just build onto what you have.

“I just can’t fall asleep. Every time I start, I shake myself awake.”

Logan takes a swig from his beer and pulls his lips tight, a face of sympathy sliding over his features—eyebrows pinched, lips downturned, eyes a little narrowed.

“Yeah?” You nod your head. “Sounds horrible, kid.”

Kid. You know you’re younger than him, it’s obvious, but you’re not a kid. You don’t see why he thinks of you that way. Rogue and Bobby are kids and you’re older than them. More mature, no longer a student but now practically a teacher.

You don’t want Logan to see you as a kid. You know what you want him to see you as, but it seems to become more and more impossible by the day.

You don’t say anything, lifting your foot enough to press the toe of your slippers into the cleaned grout between the tiles at your feet.

“Tell you what,” he begins, promoting your head to lift, “next time that happens to you, you come find me, alright? I know how much it sucks to be alone like that so if you need me, come find me.”

That’s what you did.

After you left the kitchen, finally letting your grin break free since no one was around to see it during the trek back to your room, you told yourself you would only go to Logan if you needed him.

You tried to sleep, snuggling yourself in a cocoon of blankets and pillows around your head. You lit a candle, counted sheep, made up scenarios to doze off (ones that definitely didn’t involve Logan tenderly holding your hand and stroking your cheek and—), but nothing seemed to work.

So you found yourself standing in the doorway of Logan’s bedroom, one hand still on the doorknob and the other toying with a loose thread at the bottom of your tee shirt. The bedroom is dark, save for the moonlight peeking through his opened curtains, but from the hallway light behind your back you can see Logan’s frame under the sheets.

His back faces you until you harshly whisper his name, which at the call of he lifts his head, looking at you, and then rolls over completely to click the lamp on his nightstand on.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

You feel so meek when you explain, like you are a kid, crawling to your parents after a nightmare.

“You told me to come find you.”

His squint relaxes. His entire frame relaxes actually. He sits up, jerking his head in a beckon. You click the door shut behind you as softly as you can, approaching the bed timidly until you stand on the other side.

And then you just hover. You stand there hesitantly, staring down at the slightly unmade side of the bed. Logan doesn’t say anything for a minute, but once the silence and hesitance stretches to an uncomfortable end, he speaks up, his voice groggier and raspier than it was before.

“You gonna sleep from there? Is that some mutant power that I didn’t know about?” He says it like he’s teasing you, and when you look at him you can see the small smile on his lips. It’s similar to the one he sports when he’s messing with Scott but with more softness in his eyes.

You scoff, trying to play it cool when Logan lifts the sheets for you and you climb under them. This side of the bed is cold and unused and you wonder if you’re the first person to use it.

You get as comfortable as you possibly can. You fluff the pillow and create the perfect indent for your head, you pull the sheets up to your shoulders, you lay on your side and face the window, and then when Logan clicks the light off, you close your eyes and try to sleep.

You don’t know how you thought this would be any better than struggling to sleep in your own bed, because it’s so much worse.

In your own bed, you were left with the out-of-reach fantasies of Logan. You laid in bed, giggling to yourself as you imagined what it would be like to lay next to Logan. You filled your head with blurry images of Logan’s frame, what he would look like with his eyes closed and his face completely relaxed. You tried to imagine the heat of his body in the cold of your room, trying to change your body temperature just with a thought.

But now it’s all right beside you, left there for you to catalogue so you could never forget this moment.

The feeling of his body so close yet so far from yours. The sound of his breathing. The smell of his body wash and the way it lingered on his sheets. You’re finally in Logan’s bedroom, but you’re not getting what you want. You truly don’t think you ever will.

It’s impossible for you to sleep now. You try to keep your tossing and turning to a minimum, only moving when absolutely necessary and doing so with tentativeness. You’re trying to be meticulous with your movements, all with a goal to disturb Logan as little as possible. You’re a guest here, after all.

But even if he wasn’t an attentive mutant you knew he would’ve eventually gotten fed up.

He calls your name, soft yet sounding like a warning, and you’re quick to apologize.

He doesn’t say anything else for a second, then, “Whatever’s on your mind, squash it. Jus’ let it go.”

You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do when you say, “Easier said than done.”

Logan shifts and turns around until he’s facing you. You stay facing the window.

“What usually turns your mind off?” he asks. “A glass of warm milk?”

When you laugh it’s halfhearted and maybe this is the final indicator that something about you is off.

“Look at me.” You obey embarrassingly quickly.

You can’t really see him in the dark, but the white light from outside illuminates the slope of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. You can sort of see his eyes too, the usually light green darker because of the environment, but the shadowy fan of his eyelashes is as distinct as usual.

“Seriously, tell me what’s going on. Anything I can help you with?” He lets the question linger in the air for a second before adding on. “You need me to rough a few kids up? You being bullied?” He says it like a joke.

“No,” you say.

Logan makes an ‘ah’ sound. “Yeah I’m sure you could handle yourself.” The sheets lift again. “Come ‘ere.”

Shit, shit, shit.

You listen to him, scooting closer until you’re wrapped in Logan’s arms, enveloped in his warmth. It’s nice and comfortable, the sound of Logan’s heart right next to your ear, the security of his arms wrapped around your frame.

“Does this help you?”

You hum affirmatively, already starting to feel more comfortable than you had before. Your heart beats painfully hard in your chest and you start to get self-conscious, knowing that Logan can definitely hear it.

Right on cue, he laughs a bit against your head.

“Nervous?”

“No.” God, you’re so obvious.

Logan’s laugh grows until he’s snickering, doing a terrible job of stifling his laughter. “‘s alright,” he eventually says. “Nothing wrong with that.”

You make yourself as comfortable as possible, pressing your back to Logan’s chest, trying to ignore the hard feeling of his body behind you. You can basically feel everything, the plane of his chest pushing through his tee, the ridge of his sweatpants against your lower back, his legs against yours—tempting you to intertwine them together, his feet hanging right under yours. You’re not exactly dressed for this and your shirt has ridden up, bunched at the top of your ass and exposing your panties. You wonder if he knows. You wonder if he cares.

This is helping you a lot, but there’s still something on your mind. Something you need to solve before you can go off to sleep.

You don’t know what it is that makes you confident, that makes you want to ruin a good moment. Maybe it’s the dark providing you comfort, but you lay it all out.

“You treat me like a kid.”

Logan takes a second. You can just barely make out the hitch in his voice. “...Yeah?”

You’re glad he can’t see you when you pout. It wouldn’t have done much to help your case. “I’m not a kid, Logan. You don’t treat Rogue like a kid.”

“Rogue is different.”

“How? I’m older than her.”

“Just … can we not argue?”

“We’re not arguing.”

“Yeah? Then whaddya call this?”

“A conversation between two adults.”

He hums as if he’s unconvinced.

You won’t let it go. “How is Rogue different?”

“Go to sleep,” he admonishes.

“Can’t. Not until you answer my question.”

Logan sighs. “‘cause I’m not attracted to her, alright?”

Oh.

Wait … what?

You’re sure your silence is enough to express your confusion because Logan adds on.

“I’m trying to set boundaries between us, kid—”

“Don’t call me that.”

He corrects himself with the use of your name instead, but it comes out the same way. “We need boundaries between the two of us. You think I don’t see how you look at me? ‘s not good.”

“If you’re setting boundaries why did you invite me in here.”

“Because I wanted to help you.”

Why is he making you feel crazy? He just told you he’s attracted to you, but he wants to set boundaries? There are barely any boundaries here. You’re alone with him, in his bedroom, tucked away at the end of the hall surrounded by mostly empty bedrooms instead of bedrooms of asleep mutants, curled up against his chest. This is the most opportune time, yet he didn’t want to make a move.

Maybe you were reading too much into it.

You go to pull away from Logan’s embrace but he keeps you pulled tight to his chest.

“Don’t do that,” he says it like a command and just to piss him off you consider pulling away. But you’re really comfortable and this is a comfort you aren’t sure you’re ever going to find again.

“Just go to sleep, alright,” he says your name again, much softer this time. He says it like he’s coaxing you like your name is the final tune in a lullaby.

Maybe Logan has other powers you aren’t aware of because just that one sentence is enough for you to let it go and submit to the sudden exhaustion that settles over your body like a weighted blanket.

You don’t know if Logan’s been avoiding you. Mostly because you’ve been avoiding him.

It’s not often that the two of you would have to run into each other, but there were a few times when Professor Xavier extended the invitation to observe an upcoming class, and you declined upon learning that Logan would be subbing.

You kept your distance as much as you could, even keeping yourself locked up in your bedroom throughout the night, no matter how restless you got. You were miserable, not only because you wanted to be near Logan, but because you were fucking exhausted.

You could barely stay awake throughout the day, always sneaking off for power naps, taking whatever you could get even if it was only five minutes.

But you finally have the rest of the afternoon to yourself and you intend to use it to sleep. Uncaring of how much it threw off your sleep schedule, you just needed a solid half hour curled up at the foot of your made bed like a dog, sleeping to your heart's content.

Of course, it’s on your way up to your room that you run into Logan. You try to ignore him, continuing your path up the stairs, praying that Logan will continue on his path downstairs.

You don’t know what it is about you that says come talk to me! but Logan stops in his journey, turning to face you. He calls your name, continuing even when you don’t respond. He follows your trek up the stairs and down the hallway, always right on your heels and within arm's reach.

By the time your hand reaches for your bedroom door, Logan is practically breathing down your neck.

You know there’s no avoiding him now, but you also don’t want to.

You stand still, hand wrapped around the doorknob, waiting for Logan to say his piece.

“Why’d you lead me to your bedroom?” The way he says it, with such arrogance and assurance woven into that same joking manner as if he wasn’t the one who turned you down just a few nights ago.

“Fuck off, Logan. I just wanna get some sleep.”

You twist the knob and this is what wakes Logan up. “Okay, wait.” His hand reaches out and rests on your elbow. Just this one touch strikes you still. “Will you look at me?”

You turn around, trying to keep your gaze hard even as you take in his appearance for the first time in days.

The bags under his eyes, the relaxed smile that’s constantly on his face when he’s around you, the thickness of his eyebrows, the points in his hair. You’re staring at his hair, wondering if it’s naturally like that or if he does it himself, and when you look at his eyes again there isn’t a connection. He’s staring at your lips instead.

You lift your eyebrows impatiently, already imagining the sleep you’ll get after you ruminate until you can’t form a coherent thought.

Logan opens his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry if you got a little hurt from the other night. Is just this age gap and your little crush is not gonna wor—”

You’re already turning around, deciding whatever else he’s going to say isn’t important at all, but Logan stops you. His movements are fluid, they flow naturally from his body and straight into yours, causing you to move with a coordination you didn’t expect. He spins you back around and pulls you straight to his chest, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, while his hands rest on your hips and your cheek.

The movement is quick, it happens within a couple of seconds, and it makes the moment after feel so much longer. Nothing but shared blinks as Logan looks at your lips and you look at his. You’re so close to him, even closer than you were the other night, but neither of you makes a move.

You’re considering making the first move, opening your mouth as if to ask him a question that was still unknown to you, but then Logan’s grip on your cheek tightens as if he’s holding you still and he moves in closer, and closer, and closer until his lips ghost over yours.

In the end, it’s you who crosses the bridge.

Your lips touch, sandwiched together, but neither of you do anything. Not until you take a tiny step closer, really nothing but an adjustment of your feet, is Logan pulling you into him. He digs his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, that one hand possessing all of the aggression that doesn’t exist in the hand holding your cheek.

It’s like the touch of two different men—one who wants to devour you whole and the other who wants to treasure you. You hope that they’re able to coexist as you desperately want both.

You let Logan kiss you feverishly, an intensity unlike anything you’ve ever seen him display settling in his lips. The Logan you knew was always relaxed, walking around the mansion with a carefree, practically laissez-faire, attitude. He didn’t meddle, he kept his hands to himself, always wrapped around a cigar or a beer.

But now those hands were wrapped around you for the second time this week.

You press your hands into the shoulder of his white tee shirt, starting to slide them up towards his hair before you resist. You want to get comfortable kissing him, but you’re still out in the hallway.

Having the same thought, Logan pulls away from your lips with enough time to open the door, latch his hands onto your hips, and blindly steer you backward until you’re in the room. He stares down at you the entire time, that same smirk on his lips as he kicks the door closed behind him with a single boot.

And then he has you pressed against the wood, sandwiched between a rock and a hard place.

He looks at you for a second, his gaze lingering, and then he gets back to it.

If even possible, Logan has more passion this time around. He sinks his hands to your thighs, pulling one up by his hip. He slots his legs into the opening until your center is hovering over his thigh. You don’t know what to expect, but when he flexes the muscle and presses his limb right up against you, you’re already trying to get more.

Logan smiles as he kisses you, clearly entertained by your anguished need to get off. He doesn’t verbally reassure you, he doesn’t help you grind yourself down, he doesn’t do anything but continue kissing you.

When you need to come up for air, knocking your head back into mahogany as you intake large gulps, Logan dips his head down and explores as much skin as he can. He creates a path of kisses from your jaw, down your neck, to the exposed parts of your chest.

You tilt your head down, locking your hand into his hair and trying to redirect his lips back to yours, but he stops you with a hand pinching your cheeks.

His eyes flick back and forth between yours, nothing but mischief and arrogance in the green. You wrap a hand around his wrist with the initial want to tug him away, but you like the hold he has you in. You like the look in his eyes.

“Good?” His voice is softer than his grip.

You nod, trying to grin as best as you can when your lips are forcibly puckered.

Logan smiles right back at you. “You got a rubber?”

You nod again, scurrying to your nightstand once Logan lets you go. He tells you to get on the bed and you take the liberty of throwing your shirt off and bra as you go. You have enough sense to step out of your shoes, unclasp your jeans, and tug the zipper down in the path.

By the time you’re sitting on your bed, you can feel the anxiety thrumming through your body. It’s a good kind, the kind you’ve been seeing less and less of lately. You’re still a little tired and still desiring a solid nap, but it can definitely wait. This is your main priority.

Logan speaks to you as he undresses.

“You still doing okay?” he asks as he’s pulling his tee over his head. When you nod, he moves to his belt, thick but deft fingers undoing it and leaving it hanging open and hooked into his belt loops.

“You tell me if you wanna stop,” he says as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them right after he steps out of his boots. You give him a look and he clocks it immediately.

“You think you can take it, bub?” He laughs. “Yeah? Don’t you think you’re talkin’ a big game?”

Petulantly, you roll your eyes. “Logan, I’m not a fucking kid, I’ll be fine.”

Wrong. So, so, so stupidly wrong.

You are fine, but the sight of Logan’s dick sends nerves down your spine. You’ve talked yourself up, you can’t go back, so you do what you can. You let him peel your jeans and panties off, hoping you look as seductive as he does. You keep your eyes on his abdomen, tracing the vein that runs from the right of his navel down to his cock, breathing as well as you can while Logan lines himself up. The first push burns, just like you expect it to, but you adjust quicker than you thought. Eventually, all you can feel is pleasure. You’re so full when he’s only halfway in you. You feel stuffed as soon as he bottoms out, his heavy ball sack resting flush against you, a thick forest of pubes pressed against your cunt.

Logan is so much, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. Hovering and staring down at you as his hips rock into yours, slowly and experimentally at first. It’s not until you draw a leg up over his hips that he increases the strength of his rocks.

He has one hand keeping himself steady and the other holding your waist. It’s so intimate, and not only because he’s fucking you, but because he’s staring down at you the entire time, his teeth bared as he watches you for every single reaction. His eyes rake down your body, watching the way your tits jiggle before dipping lower to watch the way he’s entering you. You can’t see his gaze, but you can feel it, the weight of it comparable to the weight of his cock in you.

There’s an inhuman nature to it, hidden deep below the surface as if he’s trying to hold back, but it’s there. You’re made aware of it when you clench around him and he growls. It comes from the back of his throat but it’s a sound you’ve never heard before. It’s so Logan, you don’t think anyone other than him could make a sound like that as erotic as it is. You want to hear him more, you want your moans to blend together amongst the four walls of your bedroom, but he keeps his sounds to himself. It’s like there’s a disconnect between the both of you, like Logan’s still holding back even though he’s balls deep in you.

“Logan,” you whine, getting his attention. He looks at you with concern in his eyes, his hips slowing down. You shake your head, pushing more towards him. “Please,” you beg, praying he knows exactly what you want.

“What? What d’you want?”

“More.”

Logan gets rougher. He’s grinding up into you like his life depends on it, blunt nails delving into your skin as if he wants to break it. You wish he would. You aren’t regenerative like he is, but you still desire the broken skin, the beads of blood, the marks left behind.

You’re thinking about it, eyes lidded and falling closed when Logan knocks his forehead into yours once. He moans, closed-mouthed as his head lolls to the side, a shiver shaking him from the bottom of the spine up.

“Jesus, baby,” he says. It’s all he says, but it’s more than enough. He keeps going, digging his tip into you deeper and deeper until it feels like he’s swimming in your guts.

He drags his head down until he can wrap his lips around one of your nipples, licking and sucking before moving on to give the other one the same treatment. You desperately want him to mark you up, you want a reminder that this—the thing you’ve been wanting since Storm and Scott came back with two new mutants in tow—actually happened. Bravely, you reach out and tangle your hand in his hair, surprisingly softer than you thought it would be. You don’t hold him down much, just enough to communicate what you want nonverbally. And then after a few tortuous seconds of hesitation, his lips wrap around the skin atop your left breast and he sucks. The strength in it stings, it reminds you just how strong Logan is, but it feels so good.

Unexpectedly, you feel your muscles seize. It starts in your tummy, deep down near where Logan’s been massaging, and then it just doesn’t stop, likely because he doesn’t stop.

It’s like he’s spurred on by the feeling of you cumming, motivated by the way your back arches and you reach for the heavens as you clench around his cock.

He gets a burst of energy, fucking you like he has something to prove when really it’s you with something to prove.

You’re overstimulated, struggling to keep up with Logan, but you don’t want to tap out. You talked a big game, you can’t back down now. So you remain silent while Logan pulls another orgasm out of you, hoping he won’t notice the way your eyes brew tears without your consent and the way your lips quirk with the impending request to slow down.

Of course, he notices.

He’s grinning with sympathy—you don’t know if it’s sincere or faux—when he takes a hand and strokes your cheekbone.

“I see ya, kid. Feels good, yeah?”

For some reason, when he calls you kid like this, you don’t completely hate it.

There’s no point in lying, so you nod.

“So tight,” he winces, eyebrows pinched together as he flashes his teeth, a dimple in his right cheek appearing with it.

Just as you didn’t warn him before, he doesn’t warn you when he cums. You feel it though, the way his thrusts get sloppier and faster just before he gives you one punctual one, and then you feel the confined warmth of his cum shooting into the condom.

You wish you weren’t as exhausted as you were, because the next time you’re conscious, it’s dark out and the bedsheet is covering your body. You’re hot, hotter than you usually want to be when you’re sleeping, but you’re bare naked. That and you only have a thin sheet covering your body.

It doesn’t take much investigation to figure out what’s making you so hot, not when it’s attached to your back with one meaty bicep slung around your neck and keeping you pulled against him. It takes you a bit to fall asleep, but once you do, you’re out for the rest of the night.

#logansworld!#logan howlett x reader #celeste writes mcu #wolverine x reader

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 2 months

Text

Simon was seething. Never had he been so viscerally angry, his temper dangerously towing the tight rope that was his self control. You’d almost been killed. You’d been shot, and you were damn lucky that it hadn’t been fatal.

He found you on the roof later that night, no longer hiding the pain the bullet wound in your side had caused once you thought you were alone. It took all of two seconds of him seeing you hurting like that for him to snap.

“The fuck were you thinking out there, Y/N?!” His voice echoed in the night air, causing you to flinch slightly. “Do please tell me you’ve got a reasonable explanation for what happened.”

“Simon, please just calm down for a minute.” Your voice was soft, too soft, and it only fueled his anger more.

“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” Simon bellowed, his self control rapidly slipping out of his grasp. “You almost fuckin’ died, Y/N!”

Simon hated the way you flinched, hated the way you backed up ever so slightly away from him, but he couldn’t control himself. He had almost lost you.

“I know that, Simon. I know. But I don’t regret what went down.” You forced your voice steady, your eyes not leaving his as you attempted to stand your ground. “I-.”

“You don’t regret almost getting shot? Y/N, you’re not on this team to make reckless decisions. If I knew you’d be making choices like that, I’d have had Price kick you off the team months ago! Almost dying, for what? For what?!” Simon moved closer to you, the red in his vision nearly blinding, and this time you didn’t back away.

“For you, asshole!” You screamed, your hands reaching for Simon’s chest, pushing him as hard as you possibly could. Simon barely moved an inch before you screamed again. “For you! If I hadn’t taken that bullet, you would’ve died!”

Simon’s world stopped in that moment, the red vanishing from his vision, his heart coming to a slow halt in his chest as he absorbed your words. For him?

“He was aiming at you, Simon. If I hadn’t stepped in the way, we would’ve lost you. And I.” You trailed off, unable to look at the hulking man in front of you. “I don’t know, I didn’t hesitate, it was as if it was just instinct for me.”

Simon could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the soft thud thud thud the only thing keeping him grounded. You’d saved him. You’d risked your life to save him.

You, the sweet soldier who always put others first. You, the one who’d always patched him up late at night, laughing at his shitty jokes. You, the one who understood him like nobody else. You, the one person in this godforsaken world that got him to lower the never ending walls within him. You, the one he’d unknowingly loved for years. Saved him.

“I know it was stupid, and if you want to kick me off of the team for it, fine. But I’d do it again.” You threw your hands up in the air, and Simon didn’t miss the way you winced from the pain in your side. “I don’t regret it.”

Simon only stared at you, his eyes betraying none of the inner turmoil that he was currently experiencing.

“I couldn’t lose you, Simon.” Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, your eyes falling on the lower half of his mask. “Not now, not ever. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that bullet hit you.”

Simon’s eyes found yours as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, incapable of moving. For the first time in his life, he truly didn’t know what to say.

He watched as you chewed your bottom lip, your eyes leaving his yet again as you looked down at your feet. God he wishes he could say something, anything, but as always words failed him around you.

“I’ve got to go report in to Price.” You said, slowly turning away from him to face the door. “I won’t apologize for what I did, but I’m sorry for causing you to doubt my ability to support the team. Have a good night, lieutenant.”

Watching you turn away from him had finally stirred something within him, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. He had to make this right.

“Y/N.” Simon found his voice as you reached the roof’s door, causing you to turn to face him. “Wait.”

Your heart practically stopped beating upon finding Simon’s mask discarded, his face now fully bare for you to see. You weren’t sure what you had expected, once you’d finally seen him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He was simply beautiful. Every scar, every small freckle, dimple, wrinkle had formed his face impeccably well, and you couldn’t help but stare at him as your mind ran completely blank.

You’d fallen for the masked man long ago, his dry humor, loyalty and bravery were something that’d you’d found yourself drawn to. You’d meant what you said to him about not regretting taking a bullet for him. You loved him. And truthfully couldn’t fathom a life without him.

“Now you see me.” Simon breathed, his eyes softening as he watched you take in every inch of his face. He should’ve felt vulnerable, shy even. But he didn’t. Not with you. He wanted you to see him, every imperfect inch of him.

He bared himself to you, let his face and eyes tell you everything he didn’t know how to express with words.

“I’ve always seen you, Simon Riley.” You spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as your hand softly cupped his cheek. “Always.”

And that was all it took for Simon to know he loved you.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

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marvelwitchergilmore · 1 month

Text

Unexpected Surprises

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Finding out your pregnant is one thing, having Logan know before you is another.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, descriptions of giving birth, Logan's senses are at their full power. He's also read the books. One swear word here and there. Not Proof Read.

If someone had told you, even yesterday, that you would be sitting inside your bathroom with Logan sitting against your sink counter, waiting for a pregnancy test to show you a result he already knew…

You wouldn’t have believed them.

They could have been cursed to tell the truth their entire lives and you still wouldn’t have believed them.

Because it was baffling to you.

And it had all started because Logan - of all people - knew you were pregnant.

It had all started several weeks ago when you had met the team under the school inside Jean Grey’s lab. The others had been talking when you had arrived and slid in to stand beside Logan.

After a moment, he sniffed.

“What is it?”

“Have you changed your shower gel?”

You looked at him with a bewildered look. “No, why?”

“You smell different.”

“I don’t know how comfortable I am knowing you can smell me.” You said, looking up at him. You knew it was a part of his mutation; heightened senses, but it still caught you off guard every now and then.

Logan shrugged. “I can always smell you.”

From there, you both turned to find out why you’d been called down to the lab.

Over the next couple of weeks, Logan noticed a change in you.

You started napping.

For the average person, taking a nap in the middle of the day wasn’t unheard of. But for you, someone who practically lived off four to five hours a night of sleep, constantly running around the place doing things, unable to sit still long enough to even think about taking a nap….

It was unheard of.

First it had been in the living room on the sofa whilst the kids were either out or in their rooms before they’d get called for dinner. Then in the library, the hallway on the window seat bench, the kitchen. And Logan hadn’t been the only one to find you napping.

But he was the only one to move you from where you were and into your bedroom.

And each day your scent was getting stronger.

For the life of him he couldn’t put his finger on it. He had asked Jean about it but since you hadn’t come to her, or hadn’t seemed unlike your normal self, she didn’t see anything to worry about.

Maybe your body was just finally making you listen and telling you to rest.

But as of a week ago, you had been throwing up every meal you had. But you didn’t feel sick. Save for the twenty minutes before and after throwing up. Most of the time you felt hungry and nauseous at the same time.

Except, you’d kept the fact you kept puking to yourself. Until a morning meeting before classes were about to start.

“Excuse me, just a second-”

You just about managed to get out of the door and down the hallway before throwing up the toilet lid and emptying your breakfast back into the water.

Everyone looked around concerned and Jean was about to follow you when Logan caught her by the door. “Let me.”

Logan seemed to know something the others didn’t.

“Is she okay?”

Logan nodded, looking around before finding Charles. “She’s fine,” he replied, turning back to Jean.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

Closing the door behind him, Logan found you in the staff bathroom, the door unlocked.

Knocking on, he heard you take a breath before flushing the toilet and putting the lid back down. He slowly entered before closing the door behind him and looking at you as you sat on the lid of the toilet seat.

“Here,” Logan grabbed a fresh flannel and ran it under the tap before handing it to you and crouching on the floor so he could see you.

“Thanks.” You took the flannel from him and placed it over your face, wiping it down before folding it over and running it down the back of your neck. “Two weeks. Two weeks and I can’t keep a meal down, but I feel normal.”

“There might be an explanation for that.”

Then you felt yourself starting to cry.

You never cried.

At least, Logan had never seen you cry.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. One minute I’m flushed and wanting to throw up my internal organs, the next I was to sleep for a decade and eat nothing but sugar. Maybe I’m coming onto my period.”

“You’re not.”

You threw the flannel into the sink before looking at Logan. “What?”

“You’re not coming onto your period. You’re pregnant, Y/n.”

“Excuse me?”

Logan sighed. “I can…smell it. Your hormonal changes. And it would explain the tiredness, and the puking your guts up every five seconds. And the emotions.”

You just stared at Logan. “What?”

“If you don’t believe me, take a test. Maybe I’m wrong-”

“You are.” You told him. “I can’t be pregnant. When would I have had-”

Logan raised an eyebrow at you as if to say, “You really don’t remember?”

You looked up, away from him and towards the door, doing the maths in your head.

“I can’t….no. No, I can’t be pregnant.”

“Look,” Logan began. “At least take a test. Just to be sure. I could be wrong…but I don’t think I am.”

The next day Logan drove you into the town and towards the local pharmacy.

Sitting out in the car, you unbuckled your seat belt and looked at the door before turning to Logan. “Will you come in with me?”

And he did. Without question.

Spending a few minutes searching for the tests, Logan found them and handed one over to you. “Can tell as early as…” He read the box. “Five weeks.”

You nodded before looking back at the shelf, grabbing a different box of a different brand, just to be safe. At the counter, the cashier rang up both boxes for you. Neither you or Logan missed the light smile on her face as she looked between the two of you. However, the cashier missed the slightly awkward shift from Logan as he realised what she was doing and he somehow moved both closer to you and away from you at the same time.

“That’ll be seven, ninety five.”

You handed over a ten dollar bill and collected your change. Both yourself and Logan thanked her before shuffling away from the counter, Logan looking behind him as he opened up the door for you, finding the cashier smiling and waving you out.

By the time you both got home, you found a note on the desk in the hallway from Xavier. They had taken the kids out on a school trip to the museum. They should be back by dinner.

So that left you and Logan alone to stand inside your bathroom, avoiding looking at the two tests on the counter.

“I still think it’s weird you can smell the change.” You said out loud, sat on the toilet seat, your hands interlocked with each other. “I mean…what does it even smell like?”

You unlocked your hands and pressed them between your knees, turning to look up at him as he leaned against your sink counter.

Logan seemed a little out of it, his head somewhere else for a moment as his eyes remained fixed on the skirting board whilst he brushed a hand repeatedly across his face.

“Huh?” He snapped out of it, brushing his face one last time before moving his hands so they were against the cold counter before crossing his feet and crossing his arms once more. “Oh, uh, I don’t know, It’s just different.”

“Like a bad different?” You asked.

“Just…stronger, I guess. Why do you even want to know? I thought you found it weird?”

You nodded. “I do. But you can’t tell me you’ve got questions for things you find weird.”

Logan looked at you. “What? Like your ability to watch a serial killer documentary before you go to bed, yet you won’t watch horror movies?”

“I knew you found that weird!”

Logan nodded. “That’s because it is. Scott isn’t allowed near you in the month of October because you said he watches too many scary movies.”

“I can see it in his aura. Being near Scott in the month of October is like putting you next to a magnet and hoping you don’t get stuck to it. Horror movies scare me any time of year, it’s just stronger in October. And Scott watches too many.”

“Who knew the woman who used to work for the FBI, doesn’t like horror movies?”

“Technically, I worked in the labs. Not the field.”

“Still. FBI that’s afraid of a couple jumpscares on a set full of actors. Kind of ironic if you ask me.”

“Oh, please.” You replied, turned back to looking at the door. “You’re just as scared of them. Don’t think I didn’t spot the claw shaped holes in the pillow from last Halloween.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Logan squirm.

“How long is left on this thing anyway?”

You looked at your phone. “Twenty seconds.”

You both watched as the timer went off before looking at each other. “Ready?”

It took you a second, but you finally nodded and Logan stood back up straight. As did you before pulling the face down tests from the counter.

Logan stood behind you, his hand absentmindedly coming to your hip as he looked over your shoulder. You closed your eyes before turning them round and took another second before finally opening them.

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

Two lines.

Both tests.

Two, vibrant, clear from space, lines.

And despite him being the first to know, everything suddenly felt a lot more real for Logan.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out before you felt yourself starting to cry again. “Oh my god.”

You looked at Logan through the mirror before turning around and his arms wrapped themselves around you as you stood on your tiptoes to bury your face into his neck.

“What do you need? Tell me what you need.”

You set yourself back on your feet, your eyes locked on Logan’s chest. “Sleep? I think.”

Logan smiled a little and brushed the hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “Okay.”

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you…” The question disappeared. “Stay with me.”

With his eyes fixed on yours, Logan nodded.

Laying down beside you, his arms wrapped around you whilst your legs tangled with his. And for a moment, he was transported back almost nine weeks ago when you and him had finally crossed the one line you both swore you’d never cross with each other, in a motel room, just off the highway leading back into New York.

Neither of you woke up until a few hours later where you found yourself lay on your side, Logan’s arm around your middle with his hand gently pressed to your belly, whilst he remained behind you, a little more on his front, his face half buried in his pillow.

Having felt you move, Logan stirred awake for a moment to fully turn onto his side. But you just kept looking at him.

Just like you had done almost ten weeks ago when you watched the sunlight that was beginning to peek through the curtains that never just quite shut all the way, dance across his bed-ridden hair and over the muscles in his back, ghosting over where the sheet was draped over his bottom half.

And just like then, you brushed a few of the stray hairs from his face, watching his too tired muscles unable to fight off the smile on his face whilst his hand came up and held yours against him for a moment before he kissed the centre of your palm.

“What time is it?”

“A little after four…I think. I don’t think the others are back yet.”

“I think we’d know if they were.” Logan joked a little before gazing at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think. A little less sick.”

“Good.”

You nodded for a moment before looking back at Logan. “I think I want to do this.”

Logan gave you a questioning look for a moment. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I’m sure. If you don’t want to-”

“I want to.”

It wasn’t ever a second thought for Logan when he had come to terms with you being pregnant, as well as him being the first to know. He would have supported any decision you made, but he couldn’t help but feel a little more than happy when you confirmed his question.

He had been in love with you ever since you had splattered midnight spaghetti sauce on your face from when you had slurped spaghetti. He had chuckled and wiped a spot from your chin with his thumb.

Of course, he wasn’t blind.

He had always found you attractive since he first met you, but becoming your friend and falling in love with you two years later over a bowl of spaghetti as you graded papers…that was something he could have only ever dreamed of.

That night, he thought about kissing you. But promised himself he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. You were both friends.

And when you both almost kissed after having stepped into him whilst you were both outside looking for logs to put on the fire pit outside, he had a strong feeling you felt what he was feeling, too.

But fear…stopped you both.

And Rogue’s voice from shouting for you both since you’d both been gone ten minutes longer than you had planned.

But that night in the motel room.

Neither of you could deny it anymore. And there was no one around to interrupt.

Maybe both of you wished it had happened a lot more smoothly. But neither of you could deny you weren’t not happy about what had happened.

“You want to?” You rallied his words back to him, trying not to smile too much.

Logan nodded. “I want to.”

“Good.”

“One thing,” you said. “What do we tell the others?”

“You didn’t tell anyone what happened?”

You shook your head. “No. Work kinda got in the way.”

Which it did. A few hours after the motel, you had both gotten a call to get back to the school as quickly as you could. And work got too busy, neither you or Logan had time to talk about what happened and before you both knew it, it got too late to mention it again.

“Did you?”

Logan shook his head. “No.”

“This is gonna be a shock to their system.”

You nodded in agreement. “Maybe we don’t tell them so soon. At least wait until the twelve week scan.”

“Agreed. Accept-”

“Jean’s got to know.”

Logan nodded and clicked his teeth.

“But we can trust her. Maybe we’ll just have to corner her in her lab before she and Scott have lunch together.”

Logan nodded. “Good idea. Does the lab even have a sonogram machine?”

You reeled back a little. “Logan…”

“What? I might have…read…a couple of books.”

You could help but smile. “You read books? On pregnancy?”

Logan shrugged, once again trying to hide his smile. “Had to know if I was right about you being pregnant. And if I was, I wanted to know…what to expect. Just because I’m nearly 200 years old doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing.”

“And the entire world takes a sigh of relief. Even the oldest man in the world doesn't know what he’s doing. Maybe we don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

Logan smiled, his hand pressing gently against the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. “Maybe we don’t.”

“But we’re gonna do this together?”

Logan gave you a nod and smiled. “We’re gonna do this together.”

By the time the others got back, Logan was on cooking duty since the smell of everything was sending you into waves of sickness once again, until Logan handed you a small bag of sweets with a couple of pretzels inside that helped curb your cravings and settled the sickness.

And, just like you had said, you found Jean in her lab just a little after Scott had left and told her what she needed to know.

Within moments she had you lay on the examination table and Logan wheeled a chair over to be by your side whilst she scanned your stomach to find your uterus.

“Have to say, you two took your time.”

“Huh?”

Jean smiled. “Rogue was sure something had happened that night at the firepit when she went to find you two. When she finds out she’s gonna be thrilled something did finally happen.”

You and Logan looked at each other. “Other than Rogue…how many people think that…”

“You two would finally stop being idiots and do something about it?” Jean clicked a couple of buttons on the monitor. “Everyone.”

“Everyone?!”

Jean smiled. “Yep. And now they’re gonna be thrilled. Take a look.”

Jean explained what you were looking at. “See, here their head, and their feet. They look pretty comfortable there, tucked up nice and cosy.”

Jean did a couple other things whilst you and Logan looked at the screen, Logan’s hand taking yours in his before he kissed your palm again.

“Wow…she’s so small.”

You looked at Logan with a smile, and tears in your eyes. “What makes you so certain it's a girl?”

Logan shrugged. “I just do.”

Squeezing his hand, you smiled and looked back at the monitor.

“I’d put you at about a little over nine weeks. We should be able to hear a heartbeat.”

You looked a little shocked, not expecting to hear a heartbeat so soon. But Jean found it and…you breathed. Or maybe you held it. You weren’t quite sure.

“Stay still,” Jean laughed a little.

“Sorry,” you apologised.

Logan held onto your hand, tears forming in his own eyes. But for two reasons. One; finally being close to you, seeing your baby and hearing their heartbeat. And two; the small thumping Logan had heard every time he was around you, almost like an echo of your own – or maybe his – had been your baby.

The baby you were having together.

He had been hearing their heartbeat for almost a week.

“Logan…that’s our baby.”

There was no stopping his smile. “That’s our baby.”

With his other hand at the back of your head, his thumb making familiar strokes back and forth, he kissed you and you squeezed his hand a little tighter, never wanting to let go.

“I’ll set this recording for you and print off a couple of pictures. Congratulations guys. You’ve got a very healthy baby.”

Jean did as she said she would and by the time you were clean of the gel and sat back up with Logan standing by your side, Jean gave you a couple of information booklets.

“I think Logan’s already got most of it covered,” you said with a smile, catching his slightly sheepish look. “But thank you.”

Jean hugged both of you. “Congrats guys, and don’t worry. They won’t hear anything from me.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

By the time you both got back to your room, you had one picture, as did Logan however the third one, Logan kept looking at.

Without saying anything, you both came to an agreement and it wasn’t long before you found who you were looking for.

Closing the library door, you checked all the spaces before confirming both yourself, Logan and Rogue were alone.

“What’s going on?”

Coming to a stand, Rogue stood in front of Logan and you rounded the table to stand beside him.

He held out the picture. “We wanted to give you this. Figured you should be the first to know…apart from Jean.”

Rogue took the photo in her hands from Logan, it taking a minute before it all finally clicked in her head and confirmed what she was looking at.

Baby Y/L/N HOWLETT printed in bold white ink in the corner.

Rogue burst into a smile and let out a small laugh before hugging both of you quickly. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god!”

“But you can’t tell anyone.” Logan told her. “At least not yet.”

Rogue shook her head. “I-I won’t. I promise. Oh my god!”

She hugged you both again before stepping back.

“I knew something was going on between you two! Congrats, guys! Oh, my god! This is just…incredible. Insane.” Then she calmed down for a moment. “Thank you for telling me.”

Logan shrugged. “Figured the kid’s Aunt would want to know first.”

Rogue smiled even brighter and then looked down at the picture lovingly. “When do you find out the gender?”

“In a couple of weeks,” you smiled, holding onto Logan’s hand and arm. “But he thinks it’s a girl.”

“You do?” Rogue asked, with a smile still prominent on her face. “You two are gonna make the best parents.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks, Kid.”

And she was right.

As was Logan when, only a few weeks later, Jean confirmed that you both were in fact going to be the proud parents of a baby girl.

And by the time it came round to you giving birth, you may have bruised Logan’s hand as well as scared Scott into never watching a horror movie where a woman gives birth, ever again.

Bobby had been the first to find you when you went into labour. You were hunched over the counter in the kitchen, holding onto your belly.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You managed to shake your head. “No.”

Then your waters broke.

“Oh, uh, okay. Okay. Rogue!”

Practically sliding around the door, Rogue saw what was happening. “Oh, crap. Okay. Bobby, go and find Logan.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“He’s…” you grunted through the pain. Jean had warned you that having a baby with one mutant parent might speed things along, but two?

As you had gathered from Jean’s easy let down…

You were fucked.

“Ugh.” You grunted. “He’s…he’s out in the gardens…they had trouble…ahh…they had trouble moving…”

“Just breathe.” Rogue assured you. “Bobby, go.”

And he did.

“Okay, we’re gonna get you downstairs. I’ll call Jean.”

Twenty minutes later, Jean was back from her store run and rushed inside the school only to nearly collide into Logan.

“Where is she? I can’t find her.”

“Rogue helped her down to the lab.”

When Jean and Logan finally ran inside, they found you bracing yourself on the bed as Rogue rubbed up and down your back and you felt the pain kick up a notch.

“They’re here! They’re here. Logan.”

Logan was already on it, replacing Rogue’s hand with his own in yours. “Where the hell were you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“How’s your pain?” Jean asked, walking back inside in her scrubs.

“Ever been kicked by a horse in your pelvis?”

Another contraction started up and as you held onto Logan’s hand, you braced yourself on his other arm.

Jean gave a hidden laugh from your comment and started setting everything up.

“Just tell me when the pain stops and we can get you moved onto the bed.”

It took a moment but eventually it slowed and, with Logan’s help, you got into the hospital bed and Jean checked you over.

It was a few more hours before you were ready to push.

“No, I can’t. It hurts.”

“Just a few more pushes. Come on, you can do it.”

Logan held onto your hand whilst his other arm supported you around your shoulders and back. “You can do it. Just a couple more and it’ll be over.”

You groaned. “Why can’t we be seahorses? The males have to push and they’re only pregnant for ten days.”

Logan could help but laugh a little. “We can always get Chuck to come down and narrate this. He’s no David Attenbourogh but he is English.”

“Oh, shut up.” You laughed a little. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m in enough pain as it is.”

Another contraction started up and you began to push again.

“That’s it! Good…just a little longer.”

Fifteen minutes later the room was filled with the cries of a newborn baby girl and you felt yourself cry a sigh of relief, joy and worry.

“You did it, honey.” Logan kissed your temple. “You did it.”

“Where is she? Is she okay?”

Jean smiled and nodded. “She’s perfect. Dad? Want to do the honours?”

Logan kissed you and walked over towards Jean, his hands trailing away from yours before reaching for the scissors Jean handed him.

Cutting the cord, Jean hurried to weigh and measure your daughter as quickly as she could before handing her over to you for skin to skin contact.

“Oh my god, she’s beautiful.”

Logan was crying tears of happiness. “She looks just like her Momma.”

“Congrats, you guys.”

“Thank you.”

You couldn’t take your eyes off of her. She was…everything.

Logan sat beside you on the bed, his arm above your head and the other around both of you. He saw you in her, but you saw him.

“You guys picked a name yet?” Jean asked, standing on the other side of the bed, the camera by her side from where she’s taken a couple of photos already.

Both yourself and Logan had been quiet about the names you had picked.

“We haven’t decided yet.” Logan told her, his eyes never leaving his daughter.

“But whatever it is, Marie is going to be her middle name.”

Jean smiled and took yet another picture. Everyone had been waiting years for this moment, for you and Logan to finally get together, for you both finally to realise you were both always meant to be, even before either of you knew it.

They were going to want pictures to keep forever of this moment.

As were you two.

And the ones Jean took were just the first of many to be taken, from everyone holding her beside you and Logan, to the big family photo with her in Logan’s arms, to the one you would always keep by your bedside of Logan holding his daughter for the first time. To birthday’s, Christmases, Easter, family dinners, first steps, first words.

The others that made a small collection in your memory box for her, where she’s learning to walk, holding onto Logan’s fingers, climbing up her dad and going over his shoulder, finding easter eggs with Logan and Rogue, sitting in Xavier’s lap at his desk, learning to bake for the first time – a picture you didn’t know existed until you found it in the small box Logan had been keeping. He had taken the picture of you and her when you weren’t looking and had multiple copies.

There was a picture of every moment and every memory that both of you would always treasure forever.

And even when the sleepless nights felt endless, neither of you wanted to change it for the world.

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oreo-creampie · 10 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨; 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mean/angry nerd!switch!choso, hate fucking/academic rivals, Daddy/brat, biting, degradation/mocking, two pussy slaps, a hint of oral/fingering for some prep, pain kink, begging, just the tip, choking, light fem dom!reader, biting, hair pulling/dragging, mirror sex, full nelson, squirting

Oreo: @arminsumi @vampress7 lets all be delulu over nerd!choso, normal choso could and would never be so mean. I stand by that but this is nerd!choso Au whose done with your shit even if you are right! 🤤

“You’re such an annoying brat correcting me in class.” Choso grabs your arms pinning them above your head. Stuffing his thigh between your legs. Grinding your hips, your soft clit perfectly rubbing on his thick thigh.

Fighting the urge to groan. “If you weren't wrong, I wouldn't have to-!” Choso shuts you up with a rough kiss, biting your bottom lip. Slipping his tongue past when you cry.

Squeezing your neck, pulling away, smirking down at you. “Say something now, do anything other than grind your clit on my thigh like a pretty dirty whore.” Glaring up at him, unable to stop yourself. It feels to go to rock your clothed cunt on his clothed thigh.

Sneering, “If only the class knew what a pathetic whore you are. Glaring up at me like you won't beg for my cock.” It’s going straight to your needy cunt the way Choso is looking down at you with such angry hunger.

Moving his thigh from between yours. Roughly unbutton your pants, yanking them down your thighs with your underwear Curling two thick fingers into your cunt. “Already stupidly wet for me, nnn can't believe such a pretty cunt belongs to such a brat.” Letting go of your neck, crouching down ripping your pants down the rest of the way.

“Aw Choso Kamo is mad 'cause I’m right! Doesn't matter how much of a stupid cock drunk slut your fat cock makes me it won't change that!” Slapping your clit and cunt repeatedly. Slapping your hand over your mouth, muffling your cries from the sweet sting.

Biting your stomach, gliding two thick fingers. You grab a fistful of his dark hair tugging till he whines. Your sloppy wet cunt quivers around Choso's thick fingers from the beautiful sound. “Annoying brat.” Propping your thigh on his broad shoulder, shoving his face towards your clit.

“Shut up and suck my clit.” Biting your thigh, pumping his thick fingers faster. Massaging your sweet spot, licking your soft clit. Groaning into your cunt, grabbing your hip digging in his nails.

Squirming grinding your hips, swiping your clit on his pierced tongue. Curling from your toes from the sweet pressure of his hard bar. “Fuck you for being so damn beautiful with my cunt on your face.” Sloppily sucking on your soft clit, groaning getting off in the soft squelching of his finger sinking into your sloppy wet cunt.

Gliding his fingers out, slipping your thigh off his shoulder standing up. Unbuttoning his dark pants, pushing them down, kicking them to the side. “No underwear? Figures why everyone could see the fat outline of your cock when you were in front of the class.”

Picking up his beautiful cock. Biting your lip, stroking your clit, you love the way he’s so fat and heavy he hangs. He smirks looking down at you, trapping your head between his large hands.

Grabbing his cock touching stroking your clit. “I knew you were lookin’ n you lied sayin’ you weren't.” He groans when you slide your side lips along his cock, smearing slick into his cock head. Helping you stroke your clit better.

“Fuck you, you didn't deserve the satisfaction after being wrong. You should have studied better I'm disappointed in you can I even think of you as a rival after that.” Biting Choso’s tattoo of black flowers and dark green leaves and thorny vines.

The large garden covers most of his body. Hiding scars you’ve memorized the placement of. You hate him so much, yet you know his body better than your own.

Tracing over the one above his heart. Kissing the bite mark. “Please you know you’re going to be thinking about seeing me in class tomorrow. Let’s see how good your essay is, if I think it’s less than 96 you’re not cumming.” Grabbing your hair pulling your head back.

Looking up at him, siding your hand down from his thick hard pecs to his sculpted abs. “Fuck whatever stupid grading system you have it's rigged. You just want to hear me beg.” Stepping back, taking away his thick, warm cock on your soft clit.

Choso leads you from his living room into the hallway with a firm grasp on your hair. “Damn right, I want to hear you beg for this cock. Watch yourself, see what a dumb slut I fuck ya into.” Letting go, shoving you into his bathroom, grabbing your arm, and twisting you to face the mirror. Bending you over, lifting your ass up in the air.

Grabbing the counter. Admiring Choso in the mirror. His broad chest, thick arms, and slim waist. “I want to be fucked dumb by your fat cock.” Lining his thick cock up gliding in just his fat cock head.

Suspended in the air with only his tip in you, you look so desperate begging. "Please fuck me with your fat cock, I don't want to think of anything else. Wanna be your pretty dumb cock sleeve." Gliding his cock out, slapping himself on your lips.

Clenching with every wet smack, lining himself back up gliding only his fat tip into you. His fat head alone stretching your cunt feels too damn good. "Please fuck my bratty attitude outta me, make me your mindless cum stuffed slut. NNn." Roughly pulling you back to meet his harsh thrust, stuffing you full of his cock.

Loudly moaning, "Fuck me!" Choso grabs your hair, yanking you upright. Wrapping an arm around his neck. Choso slips his arms underneath your legs, folding you in half. Bouncing you in time with his hard, quick thrusts.

Stroking your sweet spot before stirring your guts up. "That's what I thought it's ok ya can moan you are my stupid pretty slut." Slipping his arm across your body, trapping both your legs over his thick forearm.

You're tightly pinned, knees to your chest watching your cunt get stuffed. Getting off on how Choso needs one arm to support you. Stroking your clit whining from the sweet toe-curling pleasure, clenching his fat cock. "Nnn daddy please!"

"Daddy? Already is it that good? Like seeing how your cunt is making a perfect circle from how fat my cock is." Steadily stroking your soft clit. Over the months of ending up in his apartment he's perfected playing with your clit.

You couldn't do it better yourself anymore. Couldn't cum this hard that your eyes are rolling back, body trembling, jaw-dropping. Your thick slick dripping down Choso's balls, some of your squirt splashing onto his counter.

Forgetting everything but getting fucked stupid on Choso's fat, veiny cock. “Ya cummin' so much for me, thought ya hated me but look at you. Giving me those love sick eyes." You don't have the mind to protest.

Choso smirks, "I might be second in class but I'm still your Daddy. No one else can fuck ya like I can look at ya already a stupid drooling brat.”

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