#languages go away really quickly

[givemethedamnflowers]

One thing that always fucked with my head is aftg is how they manage to keep their languages skills with barely any practice

The vocabulary the pronunciation how to form a sentence how to conjugate a verb theese fly out the window real fast when you dont pratice

[fadedrainbowbookshelves]

I'm not saying this method of flirting isn't working, just maybe next time skip the fact he could be outrun by sharp-eyed butterflies, Frank.

[tonycries]

The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school. 

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt. 

Never mess with you. Anyone but you. 

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second. 

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team. 

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile. 

Everything. 

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else. 

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all. 

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss. 

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you. 

Everything. 

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio. 

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you. 

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries. 

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments. 

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew. 

You’d kissed him back. 

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister. 

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good. 

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up. 

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by. 

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling. 

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.” 

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.  

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine. 

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics. 

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked. 

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss. 

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that. 

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for. 

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth. 

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours. 

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes. 

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship. 

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious. 

What did he have that Satoru didn’t? 

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his. 

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.” 

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom. 

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye. 

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually  more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn. 

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy. 

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh. 

Shit. 

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank. 

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck. 

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.” 

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now. 

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?” 

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.” 

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused. 

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today. 

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway. 

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there. 

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru. 

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms. 

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life. 

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned. 

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.” 

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you. 

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt. 

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist. 

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?” 

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?” 

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you. 

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so. 

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots. 

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually. 

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit. 

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene. 

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?” 

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully. 

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out. 

Like you were about to snap. Any second now. 

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…”  Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt. 

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours. 

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection. 

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous. 

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.” 

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.” 

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.” 

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch. 

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag. 

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.” 

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact. 

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.  

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps. 

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling. 

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-” 

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-” 

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll. 

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.  

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt. 

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.” 

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.  

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white. 

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family. 

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

HOLY SHOWER

Summary: After an exhausting day, you finally wanted to take a shower, but the water stopped running in your apartment, so you decided to go to your neighbor for help. But you got more than help.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, overstimulation, unprotected sex (piv), shower sex, more rounds

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You came home from work, exhausted and tired. Today was probably the worst day at work, the boss yelled at you, you almost got fired and you destroyed your clothes by spilling your coffee all over it, great. The only thing you wanted right now was a warm shower that would help you release all this negative chakras and relax.

On the way to the shower, you were already planning in your head how you're going to spend the rest of the evening, making popcorn and watching your favorite series while the vanilla-flavored candles were lit around. You'll only be wearing an oversized t-shirt and rabbit slippers that your moronic neighbor Wade Wilson bought you, after he almost set your flat on fire as part of his fight with some villian.

Wade is not a normal neighbor who occasionally throws parties and fucks with whores. He does this too, but he's really special. If you had to describe him in three words it would be a jerk, a narcissist and a wretch, but sometimes he's also nice, you have to admit that.

After you finally get out of your coffee-stained clothes, you threw them in the washing machine and went directly to the bathroom, naked. Opening the shower door, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Now, only well-being and relaxation begin, you may even practice yoga and meditate if you'll be sufficiently relaxed and full of energy. Just the thought encouraged you further and when you closed the shower door behind you, nothing and no one could stop you.

You turned on the hot water switch and took the citrus scented shower gel in your hand, you were about to squirt some on your palm when you realized the water didn't start running.

,,That's…weird” you said to yourself and reached for the cold water switch. Nothing. Not a drop came out and you were slowly starting to get furious inside. You reached for both switches at once and turned them to full power, but still nothing. You really held on, every nerve in your body was ticking not to explode but it happened anyway.

"Fuck!" you scream across the whole apartment and drop your head in your hands. This was something you had been looking forward to all day, you dreamed about it at work and the idea of ​​warm water running down your naked body was discouraging you from having a mental breakdown in the bathroom. The shower was your reason to get through the day and they're going to take it away from you like that? Fuck no.

You weren't going to just give up, the feeling of lukewarm water cleansing your body and your darkest thoughts, right now you need it more than anything in the world.

A light bulb went on in your head and you were out of the bathroom in no time. You quickly threw on an oversized white shirt, didn't even care that you’re not wearing anything under it, and went forward. Your face was focused on only one goal, Wade.

He's a devious bastard who's tried it on you countless times, but right now you're at the stage where you're even able to sleep with him just so you can indulge in that holy shower.

You knocked on the door right next to your apartment and waited for an answer. You started to be a little suspicious, because the apartment was truly gravely silent, but the creaking of the door interrupted your assumptions about what it might be. You took a deep breath and were ready to blurt out everything that had happened and convince Wade to let you take a shower at his place, but your words got stuck in your throat when Wade wasn't standing in the doorway.

Instead, there was standing a tall, old muscular man with a brown beard and sideburns, his hair was in the shape of beast ears and he had a stern expression on his face that immediately caught your attention. Wearing a white tank top that beautifully highlighted his body underneath and most importantly, showed off his shoulders which were way more massive than your thighs. You swallowed loudly in fear and blinked a few times to bring yourself back.

"Um hi! Is Wade here?"you asked and no matter how hard you tried, your voice was quiet and shaky, the guy definitely had to sense that you were so fucking nervous.

"Who's asking?" a deep grainy voice answered you with a question and leaned against the doorframe, as he crossed his hands on his chest, making his biceps pop out. He was really manipulating you with them, you had an incredible urge to stare at them and your brain was already automatically creating a million scenarios of what you wanted him to do to you with those hands. Luckily you were still somewhat conscious and didn't let your dirty toughts take over you.

"I am his neighbor...right next door" you pointed your head to your apartment, trying to keep your smile on your face. That man slowly looks at the direction you pointed, then looked back at you. "Wade's not home right now” his stern voice made you flinch every time you heard it, because it sounded like you just killed his parents and now you're going to pay hell for it.

You raised your eyebrows and nodded a few times. "Oh...okay well, when he comes back tell him I was there" you smiled again, hoping your smile would soften him up a bit, but you're too naive for even thinking this would work.

He was just looking at you, no response, not even a tiny movement of his face, nothing. You probably understood that you should finally get the fuck out of his face, and that was what you had planned. You turned on your tiptoes and walked back to your apartment, but he stopped you in your way there.

"Hey!" You immediately turned to face him.

"What do you want from him?" his biceps still hypnotizing you.

"My water stopped flowing and I really really need to take a shower" you put on a cute-innocent expression and your tone sounded so convincing that even a kidnapper, who was going to cut your throat, would let you take a shower.

He looked like he thought whether or not to let you in, even though he already knew his verdict long ago. "Come in" he nodded and disappeared in the apartment, thinking you were following him and you really did.

You were so grateful and happy that you would blow this man right here right now, not just because he was ridiculously handsome, but also as a thank you gift.

You closed the door behind you and the man made himself comfortable on the couch, a loud groan came out of him as he dropped himself there, making you feel that weird burning feeling in your lower stomach.

Although you knew Wade’s apartment layout even with your eyes closed, you still found it a bit inhospitable that man didn't even tell you where the bathroom is, but you didn't worry about it for too long. After all, you're not here to teach that grandpa good manners, you're only here for the shower.

You were almost headed to the bathroom, but something stopped you in your tracks. Thirst. Your apartment has no water and god knows how long it won't work and since it's quite late at night, all the shops here will be probably already closed.

You had to take your chance, that's why you backed into the kitchen and looked at him subtly. "Um, could I have a glass of water?" you asked politely. You only got an annoyed look and a stiff nod as response. You rolled your eyes and went to the kitchen.

You swallowed the water as if you had just been in the desert for few days, even that bastard noticed it too, but he didn't say anything.

"And um...you're Wade's partner?" "Fuck no" you wanted to start a conversation, get to know the stranger a bit, but this was probably not a good start. He looked disgusted, just thinking about it. "I'm his roomate, Logan" you finally got to know something about him and it wasn't just one thing, but even two. Wow, you're moving somewhere.

"Ah, nice to meet you" you said with a smile and poured yourself another glass of water which you drink like an animal. Logan just stared at you, scanning you and sensing that you were only wearing a light white fabric and literally nothing underneath it. Quite risky, he thought.

"And you're name?" he finally continued the conversation and you couldn't help but smile even more. Maybe you softened the grump a bit after all.

,,Y/N...” you fizz looking at Logan who just nodded and looked away. You felt it was time to finally indulge in what you were here for. Without another word you therefore went to bathroom, ripped off your shirt in one graceful motion and stomped into the shower, but you couldn't ignore the smell that clearly screamed Wade was touching himself here. Whatever.

Trying to ignore the smell, you reached for the hot water switch. The water finally touched your naked skin and you threw your head back, nearly blinding yourself with the hot water. After a while it started burning, so you reached for the cold switch, but it got stuck.

You tried to turn it with all your strenght, but nothing. So you quickly turned off the hot water and decided to ask Logan for help. After all, he has much bigger muscles than you, he will definitely be able to turn it on.

You didn't even bother drying off, you just threw your white shirt back on and went straight to Logan. When you stood next to the couch and waited for him to look at you, he wasn't just looking at you, he was admiring you.

You didn't realize that you were all wet and the white shirt was wet too, stuck to your body and practically transparent, revealing everything. Logan surprisingly cleared his throat and stopped breathing for a moment but still with the stern expression.

"Would you please help me with the shower? The switch is stuck and I can't turn it on" you beg, having no idea that your shirt is pointless to even wear at this moment.

Logan didn't take in a word you just said, he looked away from your body to your face and just stared. So you repeated your request to him and he instantly nodded in agreement. You were a little surprised that he was suddenly so active, but you didn't complain.

Logan quickly got up and went to the bathroom without giving any sign of being annoyed by your request. You walked right behind him, his whiskey scent tickled your olfactory cells.

When you entered the bathroom, you ran ahead of Logan to show him exactly where the problem was. "Here...s-see?" you struggle as you tried to turn on the cold water, but again, no avail. Logan just quietly took over the switch and effortlessly turned on the cold water, like it was nothing.

You laugh from the excitement of finally being able to enjoy a shower. But the thing was that the cold water was not only flowing on you, but also on Logan. His previously dry white tank top that covered his divine body was no longer dry and is definitely no longer covering anything. You looked at each other, your smile fade away in a second.

Your gaze locked on his body. His hairy body, developed and veined, his abs looked so eatable, so does his arms and boobs. His hair was damp, he looked irresistible and you fought your demons not to jump on him like an animal.

You, on the other hand, were practically naked in front of Logan and he hadn't seen such a beautiful woman with a beautiful body in a long time. The way the water drops ran down your neck, under your wet t-shirt, around your chest to your stomach, this was the end for Logan.

Without any warning, he pounced on you like a beast, cupping your cheeks with his big hands, almost surrounding your entire face. You automatically joined in and cooperated, wrapping your arms around his veiny neck and just gently digging into him with your fingernails.

Deep passionate kisses were making you vibrate more and more from excitement. Your tongues fight with each other for dominance, sure thing that Logan won. You were so hungry each time your lips touched, so desperate for him, for his body and what it can do to you.

Logan couldn't wait any longer, he grabbed your shirt and took it off pretty briskly, even though it was practically useless. But he didn't leave you alone and took off his tank top too. You broke the kiss just to see the treasure he offers. Naturally, you reached for him and gently ran your fingers around his abs, which caught your breath.

,,You like it?” he asked hurriedly and smiled as he saw your shocked face. For someone who is really truly old, he's not bad at all. You looked up at him and smiled, giving him a chance to start kissing you again, more likely, guzzle your face. He was rough and wild but at the same time tender and loving. This combination makes a total waterfall between your legs.

He was holding you by your weist, really digging his strong fingers into your flesh, making you moan into the hungry kisses. That itself make his erection begging to finally free him from those thigh boxers, what really keeps him trapped.

He didn't wait for another sound of yours and quickly started unbuckling his pants, his clumsy hands tried to take them off as quickly as possible and you tried to help him. Your hands touched, but there was no time for romance, his growls and your sighs said it all.

When you finally managed to unzip Logan's pants as part of your cooperation, they were on the floor next to the shower in no time, along with his black boxers. His dick sprang free, making a slappy sound as it hits his belly. You needed a moment to adore his little friend, and your eyes widened from his length. How can he even walk around with this thing?

He chuckled as he watched your surprised face once more, and got your attention by grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. "My face's right here, sweatheart" you melt at his words, his tone not as stern as it used to be just moments ago and his eyes...fuck his eyes were full of lust and desire just for you.

The rules have changed a bit, the shower is no longer what you longed for and can't live for, now it's Logan. You need him badly, like breathing or eating, you need him so badly that your knees almost start to buckle in desperation and Logan knew it and sensed it.

After all, he needed you just as much as you needed him. So he decided not to delay any longer and pinned you to the wall, the shower still continued with a flow of cold water that smoothed you at least a little, but still, you were burning with arousal and passion.

He glued his lips to yours again, his body was just as glued and his cock was poking you in your inner tight, unintentionally provoked your wet folds by moving his hips to feel at least a little friction. Of course, this movement made your neck make noises you didn't even know existed.

"I won't last long with you bub" Logan mumbled between kisses but he continued with both his movements and his uncontrollable kissing and biting of your numb lips. His wolfish voice excited you whenever you heard it and your legs were already shaking with anticipation.

Logan's tip started leaking with precum and this was a clear sign for him that he should finally fuck you like you deserved.

Before you could blink, he grabbed you by the neck, but not too hard to hurt you, but not too loose to not have control over you. He found the perfect center that suited both you and him and at that moment, he began to slide it into you.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes shut tightly as you felt his tip stretching your throbbing core. Logan growled, his face pinched but his eyes open to see your pleasing face. Oh he will remember this face for the rest of his life.

He was already fully in, fitting in perfectly as if you two were just meant for each other. Logan waited a while for you to get used to him and you had the opportunity to open your eyes for a moment and admire his wet head. How the drops slowly ran down his face, down his whole body, it was so fucking hot.

After a while, when you started getting impatient and get used to his length, you started moving your hips, just a tiny moves, but Logan knew damn well you were ready for more. That's why he helped you a little by pulling out and pushing back his member into you, making you whine his name out loud.

It was peaceful steady movements, he played with you like a toy and you marveled at it. Your eyes were opened and you were holding eye contact with Logan the whole time. Every time he pushes into you, he squishes his nose and hisses and he does that again anytime he pulls out of you.

It was pain but also a thrill for him going so incredibly slow, but both of you enjoyed it like nothing else. The thing was that you were insatiable barbarians who kept wanting more and more. Logan decided to indulge both of you.

He let go of your neck, leaving big red marks and fingerprints there and moved his strong hands to your hips. He needed to keep you in a place, because what was going to happen wasn't for some weaklings.

You looked at him with hope and curiosity of what was going to happen, and you found out really soon. Without any warning or hesitation, Logan started thrusting into you with no mercy. Now this was exactly what you needed.

His animal awoke in him, his teeth clenched as his balls was slapping against your ass. It all makes easier the running water, which served as a natural lubricant, keeping you both still wet, even though you didn't really need it.

He kept muttering something under his breath as he aggressively rammed his cock headlong into you. You just let yourself be led, he had full control over you and you fucking loved it. Your hands were tightly glued to his back, your nails digging deep into his flesh but it was just a tiny, hardly felt pinch for him.

Soon you started to feel that strange feeling in your lower abdomen, that need to go to the bathroom, that burning flame, that twirling writhing feeling, all together clearly proved that you were on the edge and you won't hold it in for long.

Logan was stretching you really hard, but you were still full of his dick inside you. From time to time, his base was touching your sensitive clit, making it even harder to keep you quiet. The moment you knew you loose it completely, was when he grabbed you by your ass and lifted you up so that your legs were wrapped around his waist and you weren't touching the ground. In this position, he easily found your g-spot and he was hitting it with rage and passion, sending you straight to your orgasm.

But Logan wasn't much better off. You were so incredibly tight around him, your pussy was literally just perfect. His veins were pulsating and his dick was twitching inside you, his heartbeat accelerated and he already lost control over his movements. He was so consumed by his climax that he had no idea what his hips were doing and how hard or fast he was thrusting into you.

He snarled like a beast, watching the part where your bodies connected, being so desperate to cum inside you, filling you up so that his sperm would drop out of you. You were already losing your senses, your eyes rolled back and you make a really long and deep bloody lines on Logan's back by your sharp nails, as you were really close.

,,Logan I-" you wanted to warn him, to inform him but it was useless, because before you could finish your sentence, you clench tightly around his member, your lower body started vibrating and the pleasant feeling of relief finally flooded you all over.

Your juice started dropping on the floor and you tried to catch your breath and gain your senses back, but Logan was still going in his full speed and strength. He was really frantic trying to catch up his orgasm, which he succeeded in after a few strong and wild thrusts.

The last one was the strongest and loudest one, he screamed really loudly, not caring if Wade was already home or not, the most juiciest and the most deepest.

The only sounds in the bathroom now were your heavy breathing and the steady flow of water that didn't stop. You felt dizzy, overstimulated, but the feeling of pleasure and relief was irreplaceable. Logan felt the same as you, although he didn't see twice unlike you, but this was an unforgettable experience for him. But he didn't want to stop yet.

"You ready for round two?" he asked, keep trying to catch his breath. This question woke you up like a slap in the morning and you looked at him with wide eyes. He was serious, he meant it and you were speechless. Although you were tired, you knew that the moment Logan will let you on your feet you wouldn't keep your balance, but of course you wanted a second round.

Logan waited impatiently for your answer and when you nodded your head, it warmed your heart to see a sparkle in his eyes. Immediately, his lips were on yours again, his dick that never leave your insideness started moving again, heating you up and creating another arousal.

The overstimulation was insane, you knew you would cum soon again and it made you feel a little embarassing, but Logan was on the same boat as you. His balls were so full that he could explode at any time, he needed to empty himself inside you.

He was starting to pick up his pace and speed again and before long you were in the same situation as few minutes ago, his hips thrusting into you with no limit, you mercilessly destroying Logan's back and praying your pelvis won't crack.

If he could, he would have turned you around and fucked you from behind like a brute, but he could feel your legs being weak and practically non-functional, so he held you tightly around his waist and continued in a position that soon brought you both to your second orgasm.

You both whimpered and wailed as you struggled to fill your lungs with oxygen. Logan was still full of energy but you're only human and when a beast like Wolverine jumps at you, there's no way you'll end up in better condition than him.

After you finally breathe normally and calmly, Logan started laughing out the two powerful orgasms and dropped his forehead to yours. You joined him and you both laughed like idiots while you were still inside each other and the freezing water was pouring over you.

Wade is going to be really surprised when his water bill comes.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

[not-neverland06]

you're not her

The 'Worst' Logan x fem!mutant!reader

a/n: really wanted to write for the worst logan so I found a streaming site so I could finally watch the new Deadpool movie (yay pirating) (this is totally hypothetical and a joke to the feds lurking) I was going to just read the wiki plot but I don’t think that was going to cut it Again, using the same superhero name/powers. It’s not an OC I swear, it just makes sense in comic book movies to have some alternate name and I’m not creative enough to come up with multiple different supe names. Summary: You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day? I feel sad because I don’t think I did the angst justice with this one. But if I keep staring at it trying to fix it, then I’m never going to post it. (This is a long one guys) Angst with a happy ending (because I’m a little bitch) Makeout scenes and smut towards the very end 18+ MDNI

You don’t know how you got here, but you know you’re mad at whoever dragged you into this shit. You don’t think it would be wild to assume it was Wade’s fault. Usually, when something goes wrong in your life it’s on him. 

What you do know; you look like shit. Wade and Wolverine are both standing over you in their awesome ass uniforms and you’re still in your fucking pajamas. How are you supposed to be badass and save the world in pants that have Spiderman’s face plastered all over them?

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Wade,” you growl at him. 

He places his hand daintily on his chest and waves you off, “Save that for the bedroom, pookie.”

You grit your teeth and glare up at him, Wolverine gives him a similarly disgusted look. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” you grumble under your breath. You get to your feet and brush yourself off, finally looking around and taking in wherever the fuck he’s dragged you. “Where are we?”

“The void,” Wade responds, voice ridiculously dramatic. You look around and throw your hands up in defeat. 

“What the fuck, Wade? Why did you drag me with you into this?” You look over at the Wolverine beside him. He hasn’t stopped glaring at you both and his claws are out, clearly ready to just eviscerate you. “Who the fuck is this?”

“Okay, wow, language, Flux. I’m disappointed in you.”

“Eat me-”

You’re cut off by the knock-off Wolverine standing a few feet behind you both. “Flux?” He demands, voice so low you almost can’t hear him. Both you and Wade’s heads whip around to face him. Thus far he’s been relatively silent, you nearly started to wonder if he was mute. 

“It’s her X-Man name,” Wade tells him, gushing like it’s some big deal. “Impressive, huh?” You don’t bother correcting him that it was your X-Men name. Can’t exactly call yourself that if they booted you off the team for being a crappy superhero. 

Logan snorts and shakes his head. He stalks towards you and you nearly fall over in your attempt to scramble back from him. “You,” he demands, claws pointed at you threateningly. “You’re Flux?”

Wade hisses, watching as Logan swipes out at you. “Alright, peanut, let’s put the claws away and take a deep grounding breath.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan snaps at Wade. He turns to glare at him and you take the opportunity to scramble behind your friend for protection. At least if he gets stabbed, he’ll heal. “You,” he scoffs and it trails off into a laugh. There’s no humor behind it, he's just a dick. “You are a fucking joke compared to my Flux.”

The ground underneath you rattles, pebbles bouncing off the cracked desert and ricocheting off their boots. Wade quickly moves away from you, shoving you forward so he’s not in the line of fire. “Yeah, well you’re just an alcoholic fuck who could never hold a candle to my Logan.” 

You can feel energy brewing at the tips of your fingers, waves, and waves of hate building up within you. The man across from you feels the shift, the static suddenly permeating the air around you both. You let your power build and build…

The pebbles drop back to the ground and you stumble back from Logan, nose bleeding from overextending yourself. “Shit,” you mutter, wiping at your face with the back of your hand and shaking your head. 

Logan laughs again, it echoes through the stormy sky and you wish you had any control over your powers so you could just send him flying. Or, better yet, turn his bones into liquid and flip him inside out. “Oh,” he lets out a long exhale, glaring at both of you. “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” The faux smile drops from his face and he raises his voice just loud enough to make you jump, “Just one big fuckin’ joke!”

You have about five seconds to dive to the side before Logan is lunging at Wade. “Wait, wait, wait we can talk about this!” Wade shouts, but it’s too late, he’s already on the ground getting his head caved in. 

You let out a rough sigh, stumbling off to the side. You’re drained from that shitshow of powers. You barely made a few rocks levitate and you feel like you’re going to pass out. You walk away from the two men and throw yourself on the ground, trying to reorient yourself while they fight like wild animals. 

You can hear them in the background, stabbing and shooting like they’re aiming to kill. Too bad neither of them can die. It’d save you a hell of a headache.  They run past you, Logan’s got his claws buried in Wade’s gut while Wade’s desperately firing off his gun into Logan’s chest. 

Your head rolls weakly to the side and you mutter out a pathetic, “No, stop. Don’t kill each other.” As expected, neither of them listens to you. They keep fighting, showing no signs of stopping. 

There’s a moment of silence after about ten minutes of nothing but grunts and insults. You peak your head up in interest. Logan got his claws posed over Wade’s throat. You wonder if decapitation would actually kill him or if he’d somehow manage to survive that. 

Wade doesn’t seem interested in testing out the theory, “They can fix it!” Wade shouts, “They can fix your timeline. I just need your help saving mine.”

Your eyes widen and you meet Wade’s masked gaze over Logan’s shoulders. The white slits widen and he minutely shakes his head, telling you not to say anything. Like, maybe, that neither of you has any fucking clue if the TVA is capable of even fixing timelines like that. 

You know Wade is desperate when he makes that promise. It’s the only reason he would say something so stupid. It’s a blatant lie, one pulled so far out of Wade’s ass you’re genuinely surprised that Logan can’t smell the bullshit. Whatever happened in his universe must have been horrible for him to ever believe anything that comes out of any Deadpool’s mouth. 

It’s a long moment before Logan finally pulls his claws out of Wade. Your friend slumps forward in relief as Logan stalks away from him. You glare at Wade from where you are on the ground, “That was fucking stupid,” you snipe at him. He gets to his feet, walks over to you, and forcefully yanks you to your feet. 

“Not a goddamn word,” he warns, but you aren’t exactly threatened by him when he's got three holes in his head from Logan’s claws. Still, you hold your hands up and acquiesce, following after him as he chases down Logan. 

Your mind is still fuzzy when you are captured by Cassandra. You're recovering from overextending yourself, eyes blurring and limbs going limp like jello when her army of henchmen circle you all. 

You finally feel yourself starting to come back to your body when you wake up tied to Johnny. “And,” Wade draws the word out, waiting until you lift your head to finish, “there she is! Happy you could join us, princess. Mind turning these ropes into dust for me?”

You groan and let your head slump onto Johnny’s shoulder. He smirks and glances down at you. “Oh fuck off, both of you. I can’t do shit right now and you know it, Wade, I’m drained.” 

Logan is glaring at you, but there’s less hate in his glare and more confusion now. “Can you do anything?”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips screwed up while you try to decide if he’s being an asshole or genuine. “Hard of hearing or something old man? I’m drained,” you reiterate, your tone a little too bitchy. 

Logan narrows his eyes, grunting something foul under his breath. Wade interferes before you can piss each other off anymore. “She had an accident, her brain’s a little broken now. But it’s fine! Whose isn’t?”

You huff and throw yourself back against the cage you’re all being transported in. You feel eyes on the side of your head and slowly look over to see Johnny grinning at you. “Hey, you know I’ve met one of your variants-”

“Don’t give a fuck,” you interrupt. You hear Wade snicker under his mask, giving you an encouraging thumbs up even with his hands bound. You were both a little disappointed it wasn’t Captain America lurking under that cloak. But at least this guy isn’t such a prude he won’t cuss. 

For the next five minutes, you’re on the receiving end of a very enthusiastically vulgar rant about just what a cunt Cassandra Nova is. He’s still not even finished by the time you reach the gates to her lair.

Your eyes widen when you see all the people lurking around the walls. Most of them you recognize as people you’ve put away or killed in your world. But there’s something just minutely different about them than the version you faced in your timeline. Their eye color or outfit is always just slightly off. 

The familiar faces are almost a relief. But there is nothing comforting about knowing you're outnumbered two hundred to four. The cage is tipped over and you go rolling out, you grunt as Johnny’s elbow digs into your ribs. 

Before you can even attempt to shove him off, the ropes are whipped off of you and you’re dragged by an invisible force across the ground. Rocks and sand scrape across your tender skin and bury themselves deep in your pores. You hiss in pain when you finally come to a stop and your body is your own again. 

A groan slips through your parted lips unbidden as you struggle onto your knees. Your pajamas are ripped practically everywhere and you feel like you might as well be naked at this point. You really wished that you at least had a chance to change before you were kidnapped to another universe. 

The woman you presume to be Cassandra Nova is currently fucking Wade’s skull with her freakish telepathy fingers. Johnny’s a pile of guts and bones on the floor and you have no fucking clue where she flung Logan to. 

You get to your feet, shaking your head and reorienting yourself. In a second she’s in front of you, head tilted to the side while she regards you curiously. “Woah,” you jump back, glaring at her outstretched hand. 

“Careful,” Wade warns her breathlessly, still clutching his head. “Flux here has a pathological fear of bald people.”

You nod, “It’s true, you can imagine how strained my relationship with your brother was.” Cassandra circles you, a devious tilt to her lips. Your eyes track her, unwilling to take your gaze off her for even a second. You feel like a rabbit, facing down a fox that’s made its way into your burrow. 

“Curious,” she mutters. “I’ve seen quite a few of you down here before. But,” she chuckles and before you can move her hand is shoving its way into your brain. You scream, there’s an agonizing burn as her fingers probe under your eyes and dig through the deepest part of your subconscious. It feels like someone’s taking a shovel and ripping up your worst traumas. “None of them have been so weak.”

Wonderful, even she wants to insult you. You can feel the way she’s plucking through your thoughts, tossing aside the ones she doesn’t like. Images of your childhood are flashing across your vision. You can no longer see the world around you, it’s like every one of your worst memories is being played on a projector. 

“Ah,” she clicks her tongue and jerks your neck around until you’re looking at something you’ve tried to forget for years. “Here it is. How easy it would be for me to simply unblock those powers of yours.” She smiles, her face appearing before you and blocking out the bloodshed. “It would make this far more entertaining for me, what do you say?”

Your teeth are clenched so tightly you’re surprised they haven’t cracked yet. It’s hard to get the words out when her fingers are still dancing through your skull. “Fuck you,” you finally spit out. She releases you suddenly, and you surge forward with a gasp, clutching at your skull desperately. 

You half expect your brains to begin leaking from your nose and eyes. But nothing happens, despite feeling incredibly violated, everything is still in its proper place. Cassandra walks past you like everything is fine and dandy in the world. “Well, as much as I would love to see those powers of yours in action again, Flux, I’m afraid Alioth must eat.”

Before you can ask what she's talking about there’s a loud rumble. Like thunder cracking through the sky and land, the ground underneath you shakes. Cracks form under your feet and the henchmen around you all start desperately racing for cover. 

You turn around, staring wide-eyed at the purple cloud of death and destruction steadily moving across the sky. A face breaks through the clouds, grinning down at you. Purple lightning hits the ground and the villain next to you explodes into nothing but dust. 

“Shit!” You shout, turning around and running to try and avoid getting zapped up next. There’s no coming back from this one. Once this monster gets you, not even god could save you. 

Suddenly, an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you off your feet. “No time for consent, we’ve got to get the fuck outta here!” Wade shouts in your ear. Logan is standing next to some robot leg, ripping out cords until a jet on the back fires up. Wade leaps onto the boot, wrapping an arm around Logan’s legs as you’re all shot into the sky. 

You’d scream if you weren’t trying not to throw up. You hurtle through the sky at speeds that have your skin nearly ripping off your skull. The rocket on the back of the leg starts to sputter out. The flames flickering out and then back to life. It steadily begins to drop until you’re plummeting headfirst towards the ground. 

Wade wraps himself around you, tossing himself off the boot so he can brace your fall. You hear and feel nearly all of his bones break under your weight. For a moment it feels like you’re laying on warm jello as you try and catch your breath. 

“Nailed it,” he mutters weakly. You’re pretty sure he can’t breathe, a rib having pierced his lung in the fall. A shadow looms over you and you glance up to find Logan glaring down at you. You stare at him apprehensively, half expecting him to unsheathe his claws and just end you right here. 

Instead, to your surprise, he holds a hand out. You look at it with suspicion, glaring back up at him. “Fucks sake,” he mutters. He reaches down, roughly grabbing your hand and jerking you to your feet. You feel the warmth of Wade’s blood on your back and grimace. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, still not entirely trusting of him. 

He purses his lips into a thin line, backing awkwardly away from you. He just nods and starts surveying the land around you. It feels less like trying to figure out where you all landed and more like awkwardly avoiding eye contact. 

The whole interaction leaves you feeling odd. “Well, that was as awkward as two virgins on prom night,” Wade loudly announces as he jumps to his feet. You whip around and send him a dirty look but his attention has already been snagged by something else. Lately, you’ve been considering grounding up Adderall and slipping it into his breakfast, you think it might do him some good. 

What’s got to be the fugliest dog you’ve ever seen in your life bounds towards Wade. He drops to his knees, ripping off his mask and opening his arms wide to the mutt. You grimace, taking a step back when she starts licking his face. “Oh, that’s just wrong.”

Thankfully dogless, you steal Nicepool’s Honda Odyssey - much to Wade’s chagrin. Logan’s in the front seat, Wade beside him. You’re sitting in the back, rubbing your temples and trying to get rid of the raging migraine you’ve had since Cassandra finger blasted your brain. 

You’ve been zoning in and out of the conversation happening in the front seat of the car. But Logan suddenly slams on the brakes and you go hurtling forward. Without even looking at you, both their arms shoot out, blocking you from flying through the windshield. 

Your face scrunches up as you look at both their arms, it feels like being saved by an overbearing soccer mom. “Buckle up, princess,” Wade tells you. He shoves you back into your seat and you look between the two men suspiciously. 

“Did you just say if?” Logan growls, glaring at Wade. Your face drops, finally realizing what you’d missed. 

Wade lets out a weak chuckle, “Slip of the tongue?” Logan growls and the claws come out. Wade raises his hands, “Okay, let’s put a brake on the crazy train. I wasn’t lying it was just an educated,” for the first time in your friendship Wade is actually speechless. You’re shocked by the silence. Until, of course, he runs his mouth again and comes up with the lamest cop-out you’ve ever heard. “It was an educated wish that they could fix your timeline, alright?”

Logan doesn’t give much of a warning except a low growl before he shoves his claws deep into Wade’s thigh. “You motherfucker!”

“Hey!” You shout, jumping forward and ripping Logan’s claws out of Wade’s leg. “Look, we’re trying to save our whole fucking universe. Can you blame him for lying?” You regret opening your mouth pretty much immediately. 

You should have just stayed out of this, it wasn’t any of your business. And if they wanted to be two dumbasses and fucking tear each other apart then so be it. But you never should have drawn attention to yourself. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Logan shouts at you. It’s so startling, coming from him. You’re still associating him with the man you’d looked up to growing up. Your Wolverine was a hero. He was the reason you wanted to be an X-Man. And they look exactly the same, it’s nearly impossible for you to separate this one from the one you knew. 

But it's easier now. Because the man you’d known would never be so cruel and jaded to the world. Not like this. “Why the fuck are you even here? You’re just some watered-down knockoff of a real hero. You are nothing, you’re worth nothing. It’s a fucking joke that you’re alive and the woman I knew is buried six feet deep. If there was anything right in the world you would be in a grave somewhere crawling with maggots.”

Your eyes water without your permission. You don’t know this man. Yet, he has the face of your greatest hero and the man who you’d grown up hearing stories about. It’s like facing everything you’ve ever wanted to be and having it shout your deepest fears and insecurities back at you. He’s just confirming something you’ve known for years. You never deserved the title of being an X-Man. You never deserved the uniform or anything that came with it. 

Your breaths are coming short and fast, it feels like your lungs are constricting. You worry you won’t be able to get air in but he doesn’t care. No, he keeps going. “You follow this fucking clown around and you contribute nothing to the world. You’re never gonna save your fucking timeline. You can’t even make a few rocks float.” It’s not the words that hurt you next. It’s the way he says it. “You’re pathetic.”

He spits them at you. There’s venom lacing his tone like he’s seen into you and knows there’s nothing in you to offer. For the first time in a long time, you feel seen and you hate it. Because he’s looking past the sarcasm and the faux confidence you carry yourself with. 

He sees the empty husk of a woman you truly are and he’s forcing you to face it with him. It causes you physical pain, to know that everything you’ve ever feared about yourself is true. You don’t have anything to say to him, you can’t. 

Your lips tremble and you feel so fucking small. You can hear your parent's voices in your head, screaming at you and wishing you were never born. They’d rather have a stillborn than a fucked up mutant for a daughter. You see the way even other kids at the school would hide from you. You were made wrong, even as a mutant you were never truly accepted. 

Logan’s face drops ever so slightly at the prolonged silence in the car. Even Wade isn’t speaking, he’s just staring at you both. “I,” he starts, but Wade cuts him off. 

“I’m gonna hurt you now.” Wade’s never been one to let people run over you, even when you might just let yourself fall into the background. You shouldn’t be surprised when he draws a knife and stabs it into Logan’s throat. 

But the arterial spray that follows catches you off guard and suddenly your tears are dried. Instead, you’re throwing open the car door and diving out before one of them crushes you. You make it out of the car just in time, Logan having thrown Wade right where you had been sitting. 

Music starts up in the car as a result of their fighting. Divorced dad rock and the sounds of their, borderline, sexual grunting are your soundtrack for the rest of the night. You curl up at the base of a tree, waiting for them to be done with each other. 

Logan’s words continue to echo through your head. And the longer you linger on what he said the angrier you get. Not necessarily at him, but at yourself. You’ve let yourself linger in self-pity and wallow in regret for so long. 

You look in the mirror and you no longer recognize yourself. He’s right, as much as you hate to admit it, you’re a fucking joke. You toss your head back, slamming it against the trunk of the tree hard enough for it to hurt. 

There’s this manic, cloying feeling tugging at your chest. It’s like someone’s sitting on your ribs, crushing you until you can’t breathe anymore. You keep throwing your head back, letting the pain distract you until you feel warm blood leaking down the back of your scalp. 

“Shit,” you hiss, hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull. You wince when you feel the split in your skin. The blood leaks over the tips of your fingers, running through the cracks of your palm. 

You force yourself to relax, to move your head away from the tree. As you go to stand up, possibly to get Wade and Logan to quit their fighting, you notice something odd. The air around you is still, you can no longer hear them grunting or groaning as they rock the Honda. 

Leaves are suspended in the air. They’re not trembling from the breeze, they’re completely frozen. You take a step forward and gasp when you hit something solid. The air in front of you has solidified somehow. 

The realization dawns on you slowly but surely. This is you, you’ve done this. Manipulated everything around you on an atomic level. You’ve turned something you shouldn’t be able to feel into something you can touch. Frozen the world around you. Whatever Cassandra had done inside your head, it had knocked something loose. 

You haven’t had this wide a range of control for years. Any attempt to do something like this has been met with nosebleeds and long periods of blacking out. Elation fills you, the hurt from earlier is nearly gone. 

You glance through the wall of air and try to see if you can still see the Odyssey. To your horror, it’s gone. You wave your hands and the air returns to normal. The leaves drift back to the forest floor and you run back to where you’d left the two men. 

There are tire tracks dug deep into the mud. You know Wade wouldn’t willingly leave you behind, not here. You don’t know if Logan’s just kidnapped him or if someone else has. Whoever was driving was clearly in a rush to get out of here. 

You must have missed it all while you were having your meltdown. “Fuck,” you shout, your voice echoing into the branches above. You take in a deep breath and start walking. Hopefully, you can catch up to them before whoever has them does serious damage. 

You make it to a weird cave/hideout area. The Odyssey is parked outside and when you peek through the broken windows you find the interior completely destroyed. There’s blood soaking through every surface, anything and everything has been smashed and bent the wrong way. 

You don’t even know if this is from Wade and Logan or whoever had snatched them. Shaking your head you back up and slink towards the entrance of the den. You can hear shouting inside, it sounds like Wade, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. 

You haven’t seen action for a long time. At least not any that you could actually contribute to. It feels a bit like riding a bike. You’d practiced on your way here, making things around you float or eradicating a few trees into nothing but dust in the wind. But this is different. 

Your friend (and Logan) are inside, possibly being tortured. Maybe even dead. Though, you seriously doubt the universe is going to be that nice to you. You let the energy build in your arms, it’s like a warm tingling feeling. It shoots down to the palms of your hands until you feel static in the air. 

You take a step inside and spot three people. Each of them is decked out in weapons. One of them turns and spots you. “Who is-” 

You don’t let him finish, throwing your hands out and slamming them all into the wall so hard the whole interior shakes. Dirt rains down from the ceilings while their faces contort in pain. You run inside, spotting Logan and Wade. 

You shoot Wade a big grin but he throws his hands up and shouts, “Read the fucking room!” Your brows furrow and he points emphatically at the people you’re holding, “Good guys!”

“Oh shit,” you release them immediately, a guilty look on your face. “I am so sorry.” Logan cackles in the back, doubled over laughing while the three people in front of you brush themselves off. 

You don’t want to be out here with him, but it’s better than being in that cave with the others. Laura walks past you, sending you an uneasy smile. You’d noticed her sitting beside Logan and decided they probably needed a few moments to themselves. 

They were finished now, though, and he had the only bottle of liquor left in the cave with him. You trudge over to him, leaves crunching under your boots. Elektra, after that horrific introduction, had given you a uniform a different Flux had left behind. 

She was long gone, killed by Cassandra years ago, but she’d conveniently been your exact size. The uniform is nearly identical to the one you have buried under your bed. Black leather with a dark purple X going across your chest and matching purple seams. You’d never wanted something ridiculously flashy. Just something that people would see and associate with the X-Men. 

Because that’s all you’d ever wanted to be; a hero. It feels like a pipe dream now. If your pajamas weren’t so destroyed you would have just stayed in them. You don’t feel like you deserve this uniform, not when the woman who’d worn it before you had actually been a hero in her timeline. 

“Don’t want company,” Logan snarks, without even looking back to see who’s coming up to him.

You take a seat on the lawn chair closest to him and snatch the bottle of whiskey from his hands. “Good,” you tilt your head back, downing as much as possible. It burns the whole way and you revel in the slight tickle in the back of your throat. 

“Alright,” Logan mutters. He gently takes the bottle back from you, giving you an aggrieved look when he sees just how much you’ve stolen. He looks back into the fire and sighs, “Look, I’m not interested in hearing about your sob story or why you’re suddenly drinking all my liquor-”

“Gambit’s liquor,” you interrupt, not bothering to look at him. “And I’m not looking to dump my sob story on your lap. I just want to sit in silence and that’s impossible because Wade hasn’t stopped running his mouth since we got here.”

He looks a little surprised by the brusque way you dismiss him, “Alright,” he mutters. He takes another swig from the bottle and you both stare silently into the fire. It’s like that for a while, you don’t bother keeping track of time. 

All you hear is the crackling of the flames. All you can feel is the way your eyes burn from staring into the fire and watching sparks pop off the logs for too long. The breeze rustles the trees, makes the leaves shake free and dance around the logs of the fire. 

He breaks the silence first, to your chagrin. “About what I said,” he clears his throat uncomfortably, still refusing to look at you, “back in the car.”

“Don’t,” you snap, voice low. “Just,” you let out a long breath and shake your head. You finally look over and meet his eyes. He does actually look sorry, but you don’t want to hear it. “Just don’t, I deserved it all right.”

“No, no you didn’t.” You open your mouth to argue but he gives you a firm look that has your jaw snapping shut. “I was wrong, I don’t know you. And if my Flux had ever heard me talking to you like that she would have melted my fucking spine.” He laughs a little and you feel your lips twitch up slightly. It’s the first time you’ve seen him look anything but angry. 

Curiosity loosens your tongue and knocks you out of the dazed stupor you’ve been in. “What was she like?” You ask, tone earnest. “Your Flux, I mean, you make her sound so amazing. I just can’t,” you trail off, but the look on his face tells you he understands your unspoken words. I just can’t see myself as a real hero. 

He groans and leans back on the log he’s resting on. He stretches his legs out in front of him, the liquor bottle placed on the forest floor. You’re surprised, you figured the thing was glued to his hand. 

“Well,” he reaches up and scratches at the scruff of his chin, a wry grin on his face. “She was always giving me shit, never let me get away with anything.” You unconsciously lean forward, drawn into the endearing way he begins to describe this other version of you. 

It’s not ridiculous to assume this variant meant something to him. He’s got a shine to his eye that you haven’t seen in the whole time you’ve been together. His gaze has been empty, closed off to anything and everything. But now, his eyes are crinkling at the corners, there’s an easy smile on his face that you can’t miss. 

“Ah, she was fucking feisty. And strong, she was so strong. She was always a better hero than I was. She lived for that shit,” he trails off and shakes his head. You can see you’re losing him and you don’t want this to end. You’re in your own little bubble right now, getting to pretend there’s a version of you out there somewhere that actually lived up to her potential. 

“Her powers,” you blurt out, desperate for something to stop him from retreating back into his mind. “Did she have, um, good control over them?”

Logan nods, eyes darting down to the bottle of whiskey before flickering back up to meet your gaze again. “Yeah, Charles trained her, she was right up there with Jean. She could have,” he stops and suddenly you feel guilty for making him talk about this. You can see the tears in the corner of his eyes, the way the whites of them go red. “She could have been great.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I didn’t mean to pry.” But you did. You were being selfish and forcing him to talk about it even though you knew it would hurt him. 

“Look, kid, she would have liked you. I’ll tell you that much,” he says reluctantly. Like the words hurt to force out. You suppose he isn’t used to being genuine with anyone. 

You shake your head and look down at your hands. “I appreciate the thought, but I doubt it.”

Logan grabs the bottle again, gulping it down like it's water. His words have a slight slur to them as he speaks again. “I think I would know, bub. ‘Sides, you made it into the X-Men, tells me what I need to know.”

You scoff and fix him with a sardonic look, he raises his brows in question and you roll your eyes. “They’ll take fucking anybody. And I still wasn’t good enough for them.”

Logan shakes his head and frowns. “If what I saw in there,” he points back to the den and you feel your cheeks warm as you remember what you’d done, “is any indication, then I’m sure you were plenty good.”

You lean towards him, elbows braced on your knees. He follows suit, leaning so close you almost want to back up. The proximity flusters you slightly but you shake the feeling off. “You don’t even know me and the first real thing you said to me was that I’d be more useful as fertilizer.”

He sighs, face screwing up at your harsh words. He runs a hand over his cheeks and groans, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You lean back in your chair and idly twirl your hand through the air. The leaves around you lift up and flutter through the air above your head. Logan watches and you turn back to him, waiting until his eyes meet yours to speak again. “Yes, you did. And you were right. I’m fucking useless, powers or not.” The leaves drop, a few fluttering into the fire. “We’re irrelevant, Wolverine, two washed-up X-Men who never looked good in the uniform.”

There’s a twinge of hurt on his face but you can’t make yourself feel bad about it. Since he’s such a fan of brutal truth, you’re sure he can handle it. 

You watch as the leaves curl up at the corners, the fire burning them straight through the middle. You get to your feet and move past him. You’re nearly back to the den when he calls, “The suit looks right on you,” over his shoulder.

You pause at the threshold of the door. He’s already drinking again, staring into the fire and watching it burn. You take a few steps towards him, staring at his broad back. “What happened to her, your me?”

Logan looks down at his hands, his ring finger specifically. You wonder at the significance of the movement, what exactly you’d meant to him. “She married me,” he mutters, voice cold and closed off again. 

“Goodnight, Logan,” you whisper, finally walking inside the den. 

You miss the small goodnight he sends back to you, finally turning around only to watch you leave. 

There had been a very clear plan set in place. Get Juggernaut’s helmet, put it on Cassandra, and then kill that psychotic bitch. Which is why you’re so confused when you’re standing knee-deep in guts and watching Logan and Wade leap through a portal above you. 

You don’t have time to feel angry or even hurt that they left without you. Laura is grabbing your arm and you’re both running for your life, trying to escape Alioth again. You run into Cassandra’s lair ducking into one of the rooms and dragging Laura with you. 

You’re both holding your breaths and praying that he’s sated by the others still outside. After a few minutes, the cracks of thunder stop and you risk peeking your head outside. The clouds have retreated back to their usual spot in the middle of the void. 

You take in the carnage of Cassandra’s evil lair. Most everybody is dead. You only have to skirt around a few people to get back to the Odyssey. 

You throw yourself in the driver’s seat and sink back against the bloodstained cushions. You let out a relieved breath and look at Laura, “What do you do to entertain yourself around here?”

You acclimated to the idea of being stuck in the void pretty quickly. There wasn’t exactly a lot waiting for you back home. Besides, Laura was nice enough. You had food, beer, and company. You didn’t really need much else. 

You’re pretty sure if you linger too long on the thought that Wade left you behind you’ll fall into a depression that you’re never going to be able to claw your way out of. So, you forced a smile on your face and played cards. Nothing else to do but wait to die of old age or for Alioth to kill you. 

Of course, your plans had to be ruined. There was an odd rush of air against your back and then a slight whoosh. Laura glanced over your shoulders and her brows furrowed, you turned around to find three armored men waiting behind you. 

“Flux,” the man glanced from you to Laura, “X-23?”

“Laura,” you both correct at the same time. 

The man gives an aggrieved sigh and holds his arm out, “Come with me, please.”

You stand up, energy tingling in the palms of your hands while you regard them suspiciously. Laura comes up behind you, claws out and glaring at them. “Why should we?” You demand. 

Barely a second later you hear the most insufferable voice in the world. “Hiya, peanut!” 

“Wade,” you hiss. You follow the armored men through an oddly shaped portal and find Wade standing beside a shirtless Logan, smiling proudly at you. “You fucking left me,” you hold up your hands and his eyes widen. 

His hands quickly come up, trying to assuage you, “Hold on now-”

You throw him back, his body hurtling into a nearby building and caving in the wall. Logan watches it happen with a small smile, “Been wanting to do that for a while.” 

Once Wade had recovered he filled you in on everything that happened. TVA did a general clean up and then you were standing in front of your apartment door, keys in hand like nothing had happened. 

It was so bizarre, going from a mission to save your timeline and then you’re expected to just go about your life. You stay standing in that hallway for you don’t know how long before you hear someone behind you. 

You jump and drop your keys when Logan clears his throat. “Shit,” you hiss, whirling around and glaring at him while your heart races. He chuckles and bends over to grab your keys for you. 

“Sorry,” he mutters. This is the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him, covered in blood and in a borrowed shirt. “Uh, Wade doesn’t have enough room at his place. Told me I should come over here.”

You look over his shoulder and see Wade peeking his head out of his doorway. He catches your eye, sending you a thumbs up. You almost smile but then he makes a phallic gesture with his hands, pointing at Logan and humping the air. You glare at him and he quickly backs into his apartment, but not before sending you one last encouraging shit-eating grin. 

You look back at Logan and he’s waiting expectantly for your answer. “Yeah,” you take your keys from him and unlock the door. “I’ve got a spare room but there’s no bed in it right now.” Your eyes widen when you see the mess that is your apartment. 

You quickly rush through, picking up empty take-out boxes and dirty laundry and shoving them into your room. He’s smiling at you when you come back and it's slightly off-putting. “Um,” you gesture towards the couch awkwardly. “You can take the sofa tonight and we’ll look at setting you up with something more permanent tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” he hovers by the armrest and you engage in the longest stare-off of your life. Neither of you says anything for a few suffocating moments before he gestures at himself. “Shower?”

“Oh,” you snap out of your stupor and nod your head. “Yeah, right, of course.” You show him down the hall, “Here. I’ll go get you a towel.”

You rush towards your linen closet, leaving him behind in your bathroom. You grab a few clean towels and then figure he might want some clothes as well. You grab some pajamas that Wade’s left over when he’s crashed before. They’ll probably be a bit tighter on Logan, but you wouldn’t mind seeing that. 

You walk back to the bathroom and the thought of knocking doesn’t even run through your head. It should, honestly, but you’re already so thrown off by him even being here. You walk in and immediately gasp and drop the towels. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry.” He’s standing naked before you. Clothes discarded on the floor behind him. Everything on perfect display. Your eyes land on his abs, noticing a few prominent veins leading down-

You cover your face and turn around. “Sorry,” you mutter again. God, you’re such an idiot. You still haven’t even left. You’d just been shamelessly ogling the man naked and you don’t even have the decency to walk out. 

You really can’t help it though. It’s been such a clusterfuck, the last 72 hours. Your brain is fried and Wade’s little show hasn’t helped you at all.  

You hear Logan laugh behind you. “It’s alright,” he mutters. Something warm ghosts across your arm and you jump slightly. His hand firmly grasps your bicep, gently tugging your palms away from your face. 

You risk a glance over your shoulder and nearly gasp at how close he’s gotten. He's towering over you, something in his face you can’t place. “It’s alright,” he whispers again and you find yourself nodding without really thinking. 

He’s got both hands on your arms now, trailing up and down. The touch is so featherlight you can barely feel it at all. You don’t even realize how he’s gently coaxing you closer until you trip on the towels at your feet. 

You startle, looking down at them and moving to kick them aside. But he stops you, his finger nudging your chip up so you’ll look at him again. There is such blatant want painted across his face that it makes your heart skip a beat. Your breath catches in your throat when he wraps an arm around your waist and drags you closer. 

You can feel all of him. You can feel just how much he wants you. It catches you off guard, this sudden display of attraction. You don’t know where it’s coming from, what’s brought it on. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’ve been so lonely for so long. You just want to bask in the fact that he looks absolutely starved for you. 

No man has ever looked at you with such heartbreakingly yearning eyes - like he’s been looking for you his whole life. He dips down, lips ghosting gently over yours. Your breaths mingle together, you can nearly taste him. 

It’s unclear which one of you moves first, who pushes closer to the other. But it doesn’t matter because the second you put real pressure behind the kiss he’s all over you. One of his hands drifts down to your ass, squeezing the flesh there and dragging you closer, grinding his hips into yours. 

You moan at the feeling, your arms wrap around his neck and you press yourself even closer. He groans against your lips at the first swipe of your tongue. You part with a gasp when he picks you up, practically tossing you onto your sink. Your legs spread instinctually, making room for him as he slots himself between them. 

It’s odd, feeling so vulnerable even when he’s the one who's completely naked. It still feels like he’s holding all the power. 

His lips are moving frantically over yours like he’s terrified you’re going to disappear the second he lets go. You can taste something desperate on his tongue. Something deeply rooted inside him that you can’t identify. 

One of your hands drifts from his neck, trailing over the muscles of his chest. Your fingers carve a path down his abs, relishing in how muscular he feels under your palm. Your hand reaches his pelvis, nearly wrapped around him when he jumps back. 

He grabs your wrist in a grip so tight you know there’s going to be a bruise. A pained gasp slips out and he releases you immediately. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Sorry, I can’t.” He won’t look at you now, backing up towards the shower and shaking his head. “This was a bad idea, I can’t do this.”

You shake your head, slipping off the sink and hiding your bruised wrist behind your back. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

You feel too ashamed to meet his eye. He kissed you but you feel like you’ve forced yourself on him somehow. It’s a nauseating feeling and you want nothing more than to run back to your room and hide. 

He takes a step towards you, something pained on his face. “Kid-”

You just shake your head, step out of the bathroom, and grab the handle of the door. “Sorry,” you whisper again, closing the door behind you. You lean against the cool wood, trying to catch your breath. 

Your hand drifts up to your lips, still tingling from how desperately he’d kissed you. It doesn’t make any sense. He came on to you, he threw you up on the sink, and made out with you more passionately than any man ever has before. So why are you the one who feels dirty?

You rush down the hall and into your room, slamming the door behind you. You dive under your covers, closing your eyes even though you know you won’t sleep. No, your shoulders are tensed up to your ears and your bones are vibrating with an energy you need to release. 

You’re completely tuned into the other person lurking in your apartment. You can hear as he starts the shower, how he talks quietly to himself sometimes. Then when he gets out you can perfectly picture what he looks like while he’s getting dressed and it only makes you feel worse. 

You listen as he leaves the bathroom and pauses in the hall. You can see it in your mind’s eye, how he stares at your door. He walks towards it and lingers for a minute before cussing quietly and heading back into the living room. 

You suddenly remember that you didn’t lay sheets out on the couch for him. You feel guilty, but there’s not one part of you that will be dragged from this bed and face him. Not now, at least. 

He’s up for a little while longer, getting water. Turning the TV on and off. Rooting through your cabinets looking for booze you know you don’t have. Finally, he settles on the couch. You’re awake for another hour, unable to relax until you’re completely sure he’s asleep. Even as you drift off and your body finally relaxes your mind doesn’t. You keep seeing that stricken look on his face and it makes you sick to your stomach. 

It’s the smell of pancakes that wakes you up. You’re not sure when you finally managed to pass out last night but you know it was late. Which is why you’re so pissed off that you’re being forced to get up at seven in the morning. 

You’re used to being able to sleep in a lot later than that. You’re already in a pissy mood from last night and it only gets worse as you trudge around your room getting ready. You’ve never been more thankful to have snagged one of the rare two-bathroom apartments in the building.

You don’t want to have to share a bathroom with Logan. You don’t even want to use the other one after what happened last night. It’s too embarrassing and painful to think about. The emotional whiplash of feeling so desired and then absolutely hideous is making your head spin. 

You’re sure it was all just a problem on his end, but it really doesn’t make you feel any better. When you can’t stall any longer, and you know that Logan has heard you get up, you slip quietly out of your room. 

The curtains in your living room are open and he’s in the kitchen fucking around with your stove. The news is playing quietly on the TV and you’re astounded about how little he’s done and how much more homely your apartment feels. 

It’s never really been home to you. Not after you were booted from the X-Men. But he’s somehow made it ten times cozier than it ever has been. You almost resent him a little for it. 

“Morning,” he grumbles from the kitchen. “Coffee,” he motions behind him and you see a steaming cup already waiting for you. You silently slip behind him, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and pouring it until you’re sure it’s sweet enough to not actually taste the coffee. 

“Thanks,” you mutter, moving to sit at the table. You keep your eyes trained on the TV, pretending to pay attention to the news so you don’t have to look at him. He bores his eyes into the side of your head until you feel like you’re going to have holes in your temple. 

When you can’t take it anymore you finally look over at him. He doesn’t smile, his face barely even twitches, he just looks back to his pan and continues scrambling some eggs. “Didn’t know you cooked,” you offer up weakly, already growing anxious from the silence. 

It feels wrong, to be walking on eggshells in your own apartment. He grunts and shrugs, “Not really cooking. You had the mix in your pantry,” he tells you brusquely. His tone borders on rude and you scoff. 

The audacity of this man to have an attitude with you in your apartment. He was the one who threw a hissy fit last night. You roll your eyes and go back to the news, all it tells you is that the world is just as depressing as the inside of your apartment is right now. 

You notice out of the corner of your eye the way his shoulders slump forward. He leans against the oven, seeming not to care if he burns himself. You suppose it doesn’t matter, he’d just heal. “Sorry,” he mutters. It sounds like it pains him to say the words. 

“Whatever,” you mumble under your breath. You take a long sip of your coffee, slurping a little so you have something to fill the atmosphere. 

He puts some food on a plate and brings it over to the table for you. You usually don’t eat breakfast, preferring to just skip the meal and eat a bigger lunch. But it feels too bitchy to say that to him, so you just accept the food with a strained smile. “Thanks.”

He sits across from you, glaring down at your table like it insulted him. You drag your fork against the plate, letting the scrape of metal against porcelain drown out your worries. Finally, he looks at you. “Look, about last night.”

You tense up. You want to interrupt him, to stop him from explaining. You know it’s just going to hurt your feelings, whatever he says. Whether he tells you it was a mistake or he just realized he’s not attracted to you, either way, you’re fucked. But, it’s also kept you up all night so you just shut your mouth and let him speak. 

You keep your gaze trained on your plate, unable to fully face him. He lets out a long sigh and clenches his fork so tight you hear the metal bend. He drops it to the table and clenches and unclenches his fists a few times. 

“I just couldn’t kiss you, not when I wasn’t doing it for the right reasons.”

Your brows furrow in confusion and you finally look up at him. “What?” You demand, disbelief coloring your voice. 

His eyes are boring into yours, an intensity behind the stare that leaves you feeling a little shaken. “You look like her,” he whispers, and the grief is so thick in his voice it makes your throat tighten. He pauses briefly before continuing. “There are,” he clears his throat like he’s trying not to cry. It makes you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your stomach uncomfortably. 

“There are a few differences, obviously. You’re not a carbon copy. But your mannerisms, your attitudes, you’re so similar. And I,” he shakes his head and gives you one of the most genuinely apologetic looks you’ve ever received. You can tell he really does feel guilty for projecting on you but it doesn’t make you feel any less uncomfortable. “And I just wasn’t doing that for the right reasons. I was pretending you were her and that’s just not fair to you.”

You lean your elbows on the table, head falling into your hands. You let out a rough sigh and groan in irritation. You knew the reason would hurt but you didn’t think it would be this bad. You feel gross, icky under your skin knowing that he was pretending you were another version of yourself. The version of yourself you’ve always wanted to be; the hero. 

But you also feel such a deep sadness and sympathy for him. He’d briefly mentioned that he was married to this other you. You can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like, to see your dead wife’s face staring at you and she doesn’t even know you. 

“I,” you don’t even know where to begin. You struggle to say anything for a minute and you both just stew in the tense silence. You take in a deep breath and look up at him. You do what you always do, forcing a smile and shrugging it off. “I appreciate the honesty, really.” You stand up, bringing your still-full plate into the kitchen and busying yourself with cleaning up. 

“Clearly,” you snap, your voice crueler than it should be, “It was a mistake. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

Logan sits silently at the table. He looks like there’s more he wants to say but you don’t give him the chance. You can’t take it. You finally thought someone had wanted you for you, flaws and all. You’re a fucking idiot, he barely even knows you. Whatever connection you thought was there was just brought about by your own loneliness. 

“I gotta get ready for work,” you tell his back because he isn’t looking at you now. 

He nods, scraping his fork across the plate as he aggressively cuts into his food. “Right.” You wait for him to say anything else but he doesn’t. 

You walk past him and head back to your room. You don’t even have a job, you don’t have to work. But you still grab your purse and head out of the apartment. Pretending you do just so you don’t have to look at him anymore. 

You really should have let him finish, though. You should have let him keep talking to you. Let him explain how as much as he sees her in you, that’s not why he wants you. He wants you for you. Because as similar as you can be, you’re still a completely different person from who his late wife was. You’re someone strong and incredible and he genuinely wants you. But he can never really let himself be happy. 

It takes a few days for you both to ease up around the other. The incident in the bathroom is never brought up again. You take him shopping for clothes after a few days. It feels wrong to keep giving him Wade’s hand-me-downs. You would have had your friend take him, but you don’t trust Wade’s sense of fashion at all. 

After that and getting lunch together while you were out shopping things got a little easier. You bought him a bed for the spare room because you felt guilty seeing him all cramped up on your tiny couch. 

You don’t initiate any physical contact with each other. The closest you’d gotten was your hands brushing when you both reached for some popcorn at the same time on movie night. But you hadn’t really minded that bad. 

Eventually, he starts to feel like a real roommate and a friend. He lets little pieces of himself slip out. Slowly opens up about his past. You haven’t made any existential discoveries of course. But he tells you stories of what his X-Men were like. 

You try not to dance around the topic of his wife, you don’t want him to think you’re avoiding asking about her. But you also don’t want him to think you’re obsessed with discussing her. 

He’s right, you two weren’t carbon copies of each other at all. You might share a few things in common but the more both you and Logan learn about each other, the more clear it is how different you both are from your variants. 

Sometimes you think he looks at you like he’s really seeing you, not her. But you can never be sure and you don’t want to put much strength behind the thought in case you’re wrong. You hate the idea that when you’re thinking of nothing but him, he’s just seeing her reflection on your face. 

There’s nothing you can do about it but it doesn’t stop the hurt. 

Tonight, at Wade’s suggestion, you’re both up on the roof waiting for a meteor shower that you’re ninety percent sure is never going to happen. You’re also one hundred percent sure that Wade just tricked you out of your apartment so he could have sex in it. He and Vanessa don’t really get a lot of time alone with Blind Al around. You’re already mentally preparing for the absolute fuck storm you’re going to have to clean up after.  

There’s a light nudge on your shoulder and you glance over at Logan. He’s got the whiskey bottle outstretched towards you and you take it from him with a smile. One thing about being his roommate, your alcohol tolerance has skyrocketed. His liver might regenerate, but you’re pretty sure if you keep going down this route yours will give out in a few months. 

“Think this is actually going to happen?” You ask, pointing up toward the clear night sky. 

Logan chuckles and shakes his head. He stretches out in your flimsy lawn chair and you try not to let your gaze be drawn to the sliver of skin peeking out from his shirt. “Probably not, but I don’t mind being out here.”

There’s an unspoken, with you, that makes you smile. You meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he watches you. “Me either.” You lean back in your chair, pulling your legs up onto the seat and huddling under your blanket. “It’s peaceful.”

You drink together in silence for a little while longer. Then you have to tap out, you don’t want your brain getting too foggy. Tonight is nice, you want to remember it tomorrow. To your surprise, he caps the bottle and places it to the side. You don’t mention it but you do feel like you’ve noticed he’s been drinking a little less. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be easing away ever so slightly. 

He looks over at you with an odd light in his eyes. You shift uncomfortably under his stare when it lasts a little longer than it usually does. You chuckle awkwardly, “Do I have something on my face?”

There’s a soft uptick to his lips as he shakes his head. “No,” he mutters, looking back out at the night. “You mind if I ask you something?”

Ominous, but whatever. “Sure.”

He still doesn’t look at you and you worry slightly about whatever it is he’s going to ask. He doesn’t ease you into it all, “Wade said your brain was broken?” A laugh springs out of your throat from how brusque that was. He rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’ idiot mentioned it in the void, been wonderin’ about it.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him. You’re relaxed enough that you don’t mind answering. You don’t want to pop the soft bubble you’ve managed to create around each other. “Here,” you hold your hand out for the whiskey bottle. He gives you an apprehensive look before handing it over. 

You unscrew the cap, “This,” you say and point your hand at the glass. The liquid inside lifts into the air and you freeze it before dropping it back into the bottle with a splash, a simple little party trick. “This used to be enough to put me in a coma for two days. That’s what he meant. Something happened to me and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

Logan’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in disbelief. You laugh a little, “I assume your wife never had problems like that?”

There’s always a fond smile when you mention his wife. Whether the memory is bittersweet or not. “She wasn’t perfect, much as I thought so. When she used her powers too much she,” he trails off and looks down at the floor. You frown, ducking your head down so you can catch his gaze. 

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you promise quietly.

But he shakes his head and gives you a weak, tight-lipped smile. “No, I want to. And I don’t want you to think you’re the only Flux who struggled. When she used her powers too much she would deteriorate. Parts of her would just disappear, I don’t even know how to describe it. They were destroying her from the inside out.”

You let out a low whistle, eyes widening slightly. “Well, maybe I didn't get the short end of the stick after all.” It’s quiet and for a moment you worry your humor was ill-timed. 

But he lets out a rough laugh, “No, I guess not.” He takes in a deep breath before looking back up at you. There’s no distant sadness in his eyes like there usually is when you bring her up. It seems to only be a familiar ache now, rather than something fresh and bleeding. “But what happened to you? Why couldn’t you use your powers?”

“Oh,” you look down at your lap, picking at the strings of your pants. It would be unfair to have him talk about his wife and then wimp out when it was your turn. 

“Um, There was this mission. A bunch of kids, mutants, were being held in this warehouse. It was actually pretty normal, just go in, retrieve them, and bring them back to safety. I must have done a dozen of these before, but, I don’t know. Something was this different this time around.”

You can still hear them screaming. In your mind, you hear the way they cried for help. And you see the look on your faces when they realize you can’t save them every time you go to sleep. 

You suck in a sharp breath and almost jump when his hand lands on yours. It’s gentle, he’s barely even touching you and he’s not even acknowledging what he’s doing. But you take his hand in yours and squeeze, it’s nice, grounding. 

“Long story short, they were heavily guarded and I was pretty drained from fighting off the guards. My powers were practically gone by the time we could even get to the kids. And, I don’t know, something must have gotten knocked over or hit the wrong way because smoke was filling the place and everything was on fire. I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t breathe, and the kids were blocked off. There was nothing we could do to get to them. Everyone kept screaming at me, telling me to just use my abilities and get them out of there. I couldn’t,” your voice gets thick and you look anywhere but at him. “I,” your mouth hangs open and you don’t know what you could possibly say. 

There’s no excuse for what happened. “I just couldn’t,” you whisper. You sniffle and your eyes flutter rapidly, trying to stop any tears from coming. “Hadn’t been able to use my powers since then. Trauma block or something, I guess,” you dismiss yourself flippantly and shrug. 

Logan just squeezes your hand again. He doesn’t seem to know what to say to comfort you and you’re honestly grateful for the silence. You get so sick of people telling you there was nothing you could have done. Or that the others should have helped you. Because that’s not a fucking excuse. There’s no fixing what happened, no giving those parents their children back. You fucked up and you don’t appreciate people giving you cop-outs. 

You keep your gaze trained steadily on the ground, eyes going blurry while you try to slip into the back of your mind. You don’t get the chance, though. Logan is kneeling in front of you, hands slipping up your arms to cup your face. 

He forces you to look at him, to stay present in the moment with him. “You fucked up,” he tells you. It's so shocking that you can’t help but let out a loud wet laugh. You sniffle and he grins, wiping the tears out from under your eyes. His grip on your cheeks tightens and he makes sure you’re listening as he speaks, “You fucked up, kid. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t try your fucking hardest. And it doesn’t erase all the people you did help.”

Your eyes search him, trying to find any kernel of untruth. Trying to prove to yourself that this isn’t real. That he isn’t real. You don’t deserve this moment of such unwavering trust and faith. This is meant for someone else, for someone who deserves good things in life. 

You’ve never truly believed you deserved happiness or peace like this. But right now you don’t care because he is saying everything you’ve ever wanted to hear. And he actually means it. 

Your hand drifts up, covering his and tilting your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm. It’s tentative, a test, a way to give him an out if doesn’t want this. His grip on you tightens for half a second before he shoots forward and claims your lips with his own. 

It escalates quickly. You practically melt off your chair, straddling his lap while he leans back on the ground. Your hands tug at his hair while he moves desperately over your body. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to do, where he wants to touch you. 

You love how fully his hands engulf you, the tight way they cradle you to his chest. You’ve never felt more secure in someone’s arms than you do right now. He’s got you, and he wants you. For you this time, you can tell. You can tell from the way he holds you that this isn’t a desperation born from grief. It’s something else, something you’re not ready to identify yet. 

His tongue laves across the seam of your lips, silently asking permission. You smile against the kiss, parting your lips and deepening it. He licks into you, tasting you with a low grunt in the back of his throat. You feel your hips start to move of their own volition. Gently grinding down against his lap. You moan when you feel just how bad he wants you. 

You lean back, parting from the kiss and pressing a finger to his chest to keep from following. You chuckle at his eagerness, grinding your hips down again and watching the way he thrusts up to meet your movement. “Didn’t know I was such a good kisser,” you tease. 

But he doesn’t return the joke or play along. His face falls slightly and he pulls further away from you, the look on his face distant. “What?” You whisper. “Do I have bad breath?” You joke, trying to keep the mood light. 

He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “No,” he mutters. He repeats the word more firmly and finally meets your gaze. “I think I need to take this slow, just because of…”

He trails off but you know what he means. His wife. You don’t know if he’s still projecting her onto you, you felt so sure he wasn’t earlier. But if every time you kiss he’s gonna pull back you’re not sure that you can do this. “Of course,” you mutter with a bite to your voice. It’s hard not to feel a little rejected every time he acts like this. 

You move to get off his lap but his hands clamp down on your hips and he shakes his head again. “You don’t have to get up.”

You hesitate, thighs still hovering over his. You should get up and put as much space between you as possible. But he’s so warm and you want to be held for a little while more. You nod and he looks relieved. You lean back down, pressing your chest against his and letting your head rest in the crook of his neck. 

He wraps a heavy arm around your back, keeping you close while the other reaches up to stroke your hair. It makes you feel small, in a good way. Like you can just relax and he’ll take care of you. 

“Goddamn,” he laughs a little and you sit up. He nods to the sky above and you turn around, gasping. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, “he wasn’t lying.” For once, Wade was telling the truth. Above you, it looks like the sky is falling. Glittering stars dart across the sky, streaks of blue following behind them. You grin, “It’s so beautiful.”

Logan keeps his eyes on you and nods, “Yeah, it is.”

“Ah, look, my favorite fuck buddies.”

”Wade,” you greet tightly. You shove the bottle of wine you brought into his chest and he stumbles back. “Just let us in, you freak.”

He frowns, placing a hand over his heart. “You know, it really hurts when you talk like that. I think we all need to hold hands and have a good old-fashioned jerk circle.”

You roll your eyes and flick his thick forehead. “It’s share circle, dumbass.”

”Not the way I do it,” he moves to the side and lets you both in. “Well, mi casa es su casa, especially since Vanessa and I had rockin’ sex in your bed last week.”

He walks off before you can hit him or even begin to respond to that. “I fucking knew it,” you hiss, glaring at his stupid Hawaiian shirt while he mingles with the rest of the people at the party. 

Logan chuckles behind you, “How did you two ever become friends?”

You roll your eyes and turn to face him. “I moved in next door,” you respond dryly. “This was a nonconsensual friendship because god hates me, clearly.” You shrug your jacket off and he takes it from you, hanging it up on the hook by the door. He comes back, slinging an arm around your shoulder, and leading you towards the kitchen. 

You hear Wade laughing loudly in the background and he grunts, “I’m gonna need a drink for this,” he mutters. You nod your head in agreement. You don’t get very far, though, because without any warning Wade is in front of you. He’s got his ridiculous dog in his arms and shoves her in your face. You grimace and jump back. Logan abandons you and you narrow your eyes at his retreating back. Traitor

Wade says your name with disappointment. “You know, Mary Puppins is a part of my life now. As my best friend, you need to bond with her. I can’t have you two fighting like this.” He shoves the dog into your arms without any warning and you flinch away from her wandering tongue. 

“If this thing licks me, I’m putting her down,” you warn him gravely. 

He gasps and snatches her back. “You are no longer welcome in my home,” he tells you with a snotty huff. You roll your eyes and watch him go. When he’s out of sight your lips curl up in a grin and you glance at Logan. 

He’s by the sink, making himself a drink and taking a deep swig straight out of the bottle. You creep up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smiles, hand coming down to gently hold your arm. “What’re you doing?”

”Come with me,” you whisper. You take his hand and lead him through the apartment. You both skirt around the partygoers, giving them vague greetings and waving them off when they give you odd looks. 

Logan leans down, lips brushing across your ear as he whispers, “Where are we going?” Your knees nearly give out when you hear that low tone of voice of his. You just shake your head and lead him down the hall. You can sniff out Wade’s room from the permeating stench of his axe body spray. 

You throw the door open and drag Logan inside behind you. His nose wrinkles up at the stiff socks littering the floor and the smell. Other than that, it’s relatively clean. You actually thought this would look so much worse. 

“Now,” Logan demands, “are you gonna tell me what we’re doing?”

“Well,” you lock the door and turn around with a devious grin. “Seeing as Wade has ruined my favorite sheets, I feel like we need to get him back somehow.” You glance around the room, trying to figure out something of his you want to destroy. 

You don’t hear Logan moving towards you. You’re too busy rooting through Wade’s desk and trying to find something good to shred up.  All you’re seeing is increasingly more disturbing porno mags. He has got a serious problem with pegging. You briefly wonder if you should set up an intervention or something for him. 

You nearly yelp when Logan’s hands grip your shoulders, whipping you around to face him. “I’ve got an idea of what we can do.” That’s your only warning before his lips cover your own. You melt into him immediately, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer. He grins against your lips, lifting you and placing you on the edge of Wade’s desk. 

“Mm,” you moan but shove his chest back and shake your head. “Wait,” you hop off the desk and take a seat on Wade’s bed instead. “There’s no point in this if we’re not on the bed.”

Logan shakes his head with an amused huff. He walks towards you but instead of taking a seat on the bed next to you like you'd expected, he kneels before you. Your brows furrow together and you frown. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

He gives you a gentle smile, hands coming up to rub gently over your thighs. The warmth of his palms soothes you almost immediately. “You trust me?” He asks, voice a low rumble against your chest. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. He nods encouragingly and leans forward, kissing you gently. There’s nothing expectant in this kiss. He’s doing it just to be close to you. Then you feel his hands drifting higher, fingers running over the buttons of your jeans. Your lips part, ready to ask him a question. But he just takes the chance to dip his tongue into your mouth, eagerly tasting you. You moan into it, not protesting when he presses you back into the bed. 

His fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. You lift your hips to help him tug them the rest of the way down until they’re dropping to the floor quietly. You have a million questions dancing on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find it in yourself to actually voice any of them. You don’t want to break the moment. This is the first time he’s seemed comfortable going further than kissing and some heavy petting. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. Your hips jolt as he runs a thumb over the wet spot on your panties. “All this just from kissing?” He asks, a teasing lilt to his tone. You feel your face flush, cheeks warming when you realize he’s never actually seen just how much he affects you. “Relax,” he tells you, squeezing your thighs once before slipping a few lithe fingers under the band of your panties. 

He tugs them down, but the second he sets eyes on you he gets too impatient to take them off the rest of the way. They dangle off one ankle while he lifts your thighs, setting them on his shoulder and dipping down to press a gentle kiss against you. You gasp at the contact, head tilting back while you instinctually grind your hips up against him. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve actually been with anyone and you already know you’re going to cum embarrassingly quick because he fucking devours you. You’ve had boyfriends who liked to eat you out before, but this is something completely different. 

He drags his tongue over you, sucking on your clit like it’s his only true joy in life. You can’t even make noises, your jaw hanging slack while you cant your hips higher. He groans when you grind against his face, shaking his head and flicking his nose across your bud. You nearly come from the sight of him smiling against your cunt alone. You feel it building slowly, and it’s like your powers are swelling up along with your release. 

Wade’s knicknacks are floating off the shelves, some of them rotating in the air, others fluctuating between liquid and solid forms. You can’t control yourself, you’re barely aware of the chaos happening in the room around you. You just feel a warmth at the tips of your toes, swelling over your body, making your skin feel too tight. There’s little to no warning when you cum. He dips his tongue inside you and you let out a long moan, drenching his face. 

The sheets are soaking wet underneath you and you know you’ve ruined his shirt. You’ve never come that hard before and you would reflect on that more if he wasn’t still fucking eating you out. You think your brain is going to melt out of your ears, you're so overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

He dips his tongue into you, dragging out your orgasm and drinking as much of you down as he can. Your hips keep twitching, you’d be thrashing out of his hands if it wasn’t for the near brushing grip he has on your hips. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you reach down, grabbing his hair at the roots and tugging. He groans at the feeling, barely leaning an inch back. “No more,” you whisper, chest heaving. 

He smiles, palms smoothing across the skin of your thighs, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” you hum weakly. Your head falls back against the bed with a dull thunk and you struggle to catch your breath. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?” He doesn’t answer, just laughs. You jump slightly when he presses a tender kiss on your thigh, every part of you oversensitive. 

He moves slowly up your body, hands dragging your shirt up until he’s pulling it over your head. He cups your cheeks, letting you recover while he kisses your cheeks and face. You laugh slightly at the feeling of his beard tickling you. 

You pull back, meeting his gaze for a long drawn-out moment before you lean forward to finally kiss him back. You can feel yourself slowly coming back into your body. Your limbs tingle back to life while you lazily make out with him. 

His hands drift down your chest, squeezing your breasts. You laugh against his lips, arching into his touch. You reach back, unclipping your bra and throwing it off somewhere in the room. In the far reaches of your mind, you make a mental note to take that when you go. You don’t want to think about what Wade would do with it if he found it. 

Logan pulls back from you and your lips tip down at the serious look he wears. Your fingers trace the lines of his face and you tilt your head in question. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. You’re completely naked before him and he’s still clothed, you don’t want him to leave now. 

He can’t keep doing this to you. He can’t keep forcing you into these vulnerable positions and then leaving. There’s only so much rejection you can take before you start to resent him for it. 

He tilts his head down, gaze dragging across your body appreciatively. He’s looking at you like you’re art and it makes you feel like you should be in a museum somewhere. Finally, his hand drags down from your chest, wrapping around your waist and dragging you onto his lap. 

You brace your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He leans towards you, lips trailing lightly across your jaw. “You’re not her,” he whispers against your skin. Your mouth parts, a pained breath slipping through. You try to move back from him. You hadn’t expected something like that, not now, not when you thought you’d made so much progress together. 

To have you naked, vulnerable like this, and then say something like that to you. It was fucking despicable. You shove his shoulders back but he barely moves. You shift, trying to cover yourself and fighting off the urge to cry. Why won’t he let you go? Why does he keep doing this to you? 

He reaches out, snatching up your wrist before you can get far. “I don’t want you to be. I never wanted you to be her, I need you to know that.”

He tries to kiss you but you snatch his jaw in your hand before he can. You let your nails dig in until there’s red blooming under your fingertips. He hisses, but he’s not mad, you can feel how much he enjoys the little pinpricks of pain. 

“No more pulling away,” you warn. “I’m not playing this damn game with you anymore, Logan. You want me, then commit.” You release him with a shove and his pupils dilate with want. You appreciate the gentle way he’s been treating you, but you know you’re both holding back. 

He’s the first partner you’ve been with that can actually take what you give and vice versa. There’s something only mutants understand sometimes. You normally have to hold back, have to make sure you don’t scare a guy off by making the walls shake when you come. 

You push him down onto the bed. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt and running over the grooves of his muscles. You haven’t had a chance to appreciate just how gorgeous his body is before, but nothing is holding you back now. 

You snap your fingers and the buttons rip open, he surges forward catching your lips with his while you both frantically push his shirt off. He throws it off to the side and his fingers fumble with his belt buckle while you trail kisses down his neck. You glance up at him for a second before biting down on a particularly sensitive spot. 

He groans, head rolling back while you grin against his skin. You make your way back to his lips. “Don’t hold back,” you tell him, trailing your hands down to his fists and running over the spots where the claws come out. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts tone apprehensive. You shake your head, shutting him up with a kiss. 

“Don’t. Hold. Back.”

It’s like a switch flipping. Even the way he looks at you changes. You’re not something to be cherished and adored. You feel like a deer pinned by a wolf. He’s got you in his clutches now and there’s a real possibility you might not survive this. 

He stands up, dropping you on the bed and dragging your hips off the edge. He doesn’t kick his jeans off, just lowers them enough for his cock to hang out. You’ll address the fact that he wasn’t wearing boxers later, you’re too worried about what’s hanging between his legs right now. 

You’re no virgin, but goddamn, there’s no way that’s going to fit. 

He laughs, the noise cruel and it makes shivers crawl down your spine. “We’ll make it work, kid.” He spreads your legs and you tilt your hips up, making it easier for him to just sip inside. 

There’s a slight stretch, but you’re already soaked for him. You’ve been waiting for this to happen since you walked in on him naked in your bathroom. “Oh, shit,” you toss your head back, taking in a deep breath while he pushes in. It feels like he’s rearranging your insides, molding you to fit him perfectly. 

You can already feel yourself clenching down, just being so close to him is enough to make that tingle in the tips of your toes start. He leans down, placing your legs over his elbows and rutting into you like a wild animal. There’s nothing gentle or slow about this. 

You’re both so pent-up, tired from the weeks of dancing around each other. Your nails drag up his back, blood following your movement. Your powers are actively surging against him, pain only driving you further into each other’s arms. 

You can hear his breathy grunts and groans in your ears and it’s music to you. Neither of you cares about the party going on just outside the door. You’re loud, skin slapping against skin while you loudly call out his name. 

God, you hope they hear you. Hope they realize just how thoroughly you’re wrecked for each other. You can feel yourself getting closer, hips stuttering against his while you struggle to match his pace. “Come on,” he mutters in your ear. He releases one of your legs to reach down and rub your clit. 

“Fuck,” you groan, reaching up and tugging at his hair while your back bows. It only takes a few more tight circles of his thumb before you’re spasming around him. He’s quick to follow behind you. 

He pins your hips to the bed, dropping your legs while he thrusts faster. He loses his rhythm, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he cums inside you. It’s like a mini death, you feel like you’ve lost time when you finally manage to come back to yourself. 

And when you roll your head to the side you realize just how much damage you’ve done to Wade’s bed. “Shit,” You glance up at the sound of his voice and notice little droplets of blood on your hips. Logan’s claws are out, stuck in the fluff of the bed. 

You force the words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Do that often?”

“Not really,” he mutters. The claws retreat and he rubs his fingers over the blood. It’s not bad, you’ve honestly done worse to yourself. It’s like a big paper cut. When the rough pad of his fingers presses against the cut you hiss at the sting, nearly enjoying it. 

“Must be special,” you tell him with a cheeky grin. He shakes his head with a laugh and takes his time pulling out. You hate the loss of him inside you but it's a slight relief. He's larger than any partner you’ve ever had and it’s almost overwhelming to be so full. 

“Come on, let's get you dressed.” He pats your thighs, glancing around for your clothes. 

“Uh, Logan,” he looks up and you glance at his still very hard cock. “I thought you came?”

The smile he gives you is slightly terrifying. Because there’s a promise in it. He’s not getting you dressed for no reason. He’s taking you back to your apartment so you can have more fun where there are less people and fewer reminders of Wade. “Stamina's part of the deal, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whisper, voice breathless in shock. You wipe the cum off your legs with Wade’s sheets. You feel like you’ve thoroughly gotten revenge on him for destroying your favorite bed set. Maybe, you’ve gone a little farther than revenge, though. 

You feel guilty, looking around the room and seeing everything you destroyed. Once you’re dressed, you wave your hand, putting most things back where they belong. But there’s nothing you can do about the bed. The sheets are soaked with a mixture of yours and Logan’s releases and there are six holes dug deep in the bed from his claws. 

When you step out of the room with Logan, struggling to press down your hair and get it back into place, Blind Al is waiting by the door. She’s doing a line off the back of her hand when you pass by. You think you’ve almost made it scott-free when she yells, “Man, I wish I couldn’t fucking hear,” at you. 

You tense up, shoulders to your ears while you run to the door. Logan laughs, grabbing your coat for you and pressing a hand to your back while he leads you to the apartment. “Weren’t feeling so embarrassed earlier,” he teases. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, dragging him into the apartment to finish what you couldn’t on Wade’s bed. 

You’ve managed to keep any holes out of your bed, you just have to use your powers to keep his at bay. It’s nice, not having to explain why everything around you is levitating to the person you’re having sex with. There were a lot of awkward conversations that came from that. 

You’re lying on Logan’s chest, fingers idly running over the veins in his biceps. “I want to be serious about this,” you tell him. 

His hand pauses from where it’d been stroking your back. You sit up on your elbow so you can get a better look at him. “I mean it, I,” there’s no way to say this without sounding like a complete bitch. You just have to rip the bandaid off. 

You take in a deep breath, “I know that you still miss her,” you say, unwilling to say her name. Logan sits up, looking more serious now. “But I don’t want to be with you if you think that I’m going to turn into her. Or if you think that I’m the last connection you have to her. I’m not her, Logan, and I'm never going to be her.”

You expect anger on his face or regret, maybe. But you don’t expect him to laugh at you. You roll your eyes, lips pursed while you wait for him to finish. He notices the pissy expression on your face and quiets down, but you still see a smile fighting on his lips. 

“I know you’re not her. You could not be more different” he tells you with a slight smirk, like there’s an inside joke you’re missing out on. “I was married to her for a long time and I loved her. But we had our time together. Now, I just want my time with you. You’re not her,” he leans forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “That’s why I want you.”

You feel your heart flutter in your chest and have to fight to keep a stupid grin off your face. “Okay,” you whisper. “Good, well as long as we’re on the same page,” you tell him, faux serious. He just rolls his eyes and pulls you back into his arms. 

You’re going to cuddle up beside him when you hear your phone going off like crazy on your nightstand. Your face pinches in confusion and you reach over to grab it. 

Wade

Did you fuckers have sex???

In my bed!!!!

And you didn’t invite me?!

….

Wade

Tell Logan I want his claws in me next

“Fuckin’ dumbass,” you mutter, throwing your phone somewhere on the bed. Logan laughs again, drawing you closer. 

a/n: i have a really weird tendency for masochism, idk what that’s about. I just feel like if you were having sex with this man, he’s taking you like a wild animal. also feel like I might be a one-hit wonder. the smut just wasn’t doing it for me this time guys nor was the angst, i’m disappointed in myself

I just don't think I did justice to his character in the movie, I might have made it too OOC/ if I did PLEASE let me know

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus ♡

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Found this while going through my fanfic files, and i absolutely had to share.

Danny: i want in

Red robin: …what?

Danny: your bat family. I want in.

Red robin, blinking in surprise: i dont know what you think you know about my associates, but we're not-

Danny: dont be obtuse. I know youre the smart one. And i also know that your all one big relatively happy family. I want in.

Red robin: …why?

Danny: because you guys are the first people ive found that are wealthy, intelligent and powerful enough to take on my fruitloop godfather and win AND are decent enough human beings that i can be assured that when all is said and done, my well-being will remain a top priority.

Orphan, appearing out of nowhere: new brother!

Danny: *stares in shock*

Danny: *sudden uncanny grin* well that's one convinced. How do i win over the rest?

Orphan: no need. New brother!

Red robin: *pointed glance of betrayal* fine. Who is your godfather?

Danny: vlad masters. He's a fruitloop.

Red robin: for real? B's been investigating him for years! Tell me everything! *genuinely excited for a new lead*

Danny: well, he's tried to murder my dad and marry my mom, gained his wealth illegally, committed voting fraud to become the mayor of my hometown, has a secret underground lab where he does unethical experiments, and he's abducted me more than a dozen times even before my parents disowned me to make me his evil apprentice or whatever. Now that im homeless, he's literally out to get me. Oh! And he's cloned me too! She's cool though, we're buddies now.

Batman, who just arrived but heard everything over comms: hn. (Translation: who are you?)

Danny: my name is Danny. No last name anymore, but im hoping itll soon be Wayne! *winking suggestively*

Batman: hn? (how much do you know?)

Danny: enough to know that youre a much better alternative to vlad.

Batman: …hn (i dont know anything about you. What if youre a spy for vlad?)

Danny, giving his salesman pitch: i was a teen vigilante in amity park before i had to run away from home for my own safety. Vlad is one of my rogues. I know how to fight and defend myself, how to minimize collateral damage in a fight, and ive gotten really good and escaping kidnapping attempts. Ive also managed to reform and/or make allies out of approximately half of my rogues and can talk down about 30% of all rogue confrontations before they turn into a messy fight. The other things i can bring to the table are: one, i can teach all of you guys proper liminality self care; two, i can probably minimize and possibly cure red hood's anger issues; three, i can get along with stabby robin because i consider fighting a friendly social interaction - he can even stab me and i wont be injured by it; four, i can be your go-to guy for supernatural cases so you no longer have to deal with that sad trenchcoat man; five-

Red robin: *blurting* youre hired.

Batman: hn (i am deeply concerned)

Danny: if youre concerned now, wait until i tell you about the anti ecto control act

Nightwing, who showed up in the middle of the sales pitch: ive never seen anyone crack B's grunt language so quickly

Danny: grunt language? He's just using ghost speak - which will be covered by the liminality self care lessons

Robin, who arrived with batman: what is a liminal?

Danny: all of you, of course! Otherwise you wouldnt need to learn about it, obviously

Robin: and why would we trust you?

Danny: did i mention i have a pet ghost dog?

Robin: …you drive a hard bargain

Danny, fist pumping: yes! That's three!

Nightwing: four, you got me when you could understand B's grunting

Red Hood, arrived with nightwing: five, assuming you arent lying about the pit rage

Danny, hand to his chest: i would never!

Orphan: honesty. Earnest. New brother.

Oracle, over comms: six. The anti ecto acts are legit and im terrified for his safety, assuming he's phantom, who is the vigilante of amity park

Spoiler, arrived with orphan: seven, as long as youre down for a few pranks

Batman: hn (ive been outvoted)

Batman: hnn (i dont wanna hear any jokes about adoption habits when you all forced my hand)

Batman: hn (that said)

Batman: welcome to the family

Duke, the next day: man, i miss out on everything exciting.

Duke, blinded by danny: and who the fuck told bruce he could adopt the fucking sun?!

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[euthymiya]

Starting an internship at the company Satoru’s father owns but you don’t know who he is just yet.

He’s annoying. He always comes back from lunch late, lets his phone ring at his desk (that’s conveniently placed next to yours) past the three ring policy, writes emails with silly and immature sign-offs, cracks jokes during meetings, and somehow, despite always finishing his paperwork late, he never manages to lose his damn job.

You try to mind your own business. But you can’t help but feel him slowly grate at your nerves as he acts so unprofessional and for some weird reason, not one person seems to care.

He seems pretty intrigued with you, too, if matters couldn’t get worse.

“Hey,” he grins. You try to ignore the tilt of his lips in amusement as you just barely fight off rolling your eyes.

“Can I help you with something?” You sigh, “I’m currently in the middle of something that requires my full attention, but maybe we could—”

“You really love your office jargon,” he hums, cutting you off with a wider grin, “so dedicated.”

“Oh, my apologies,” you smile tightly. He seems to straighten a little, some sick, twisted form of excitement rushing through his system at the way he seems to get under your skin. “Allow me to use simpler language for you to understand: go away, I’m busy.”

Someone has to stand up to this prick, you think. He puts in half the effort, and somehow, you’re pretty sure your boss has a soft spot for him. You don’t understand it, and quite frankly, you’ll be damned if a lazy, lackluster man snags a promotion before your hardworking self.

“Oh wow,” he snorts, “breaking your strictly professional streak, are you? You must be really occupied. I guess I’ll borrow your stapler later.”

Gritting your teeth, you give him yet another tight lipped smile before grabbing the stapler off your desk and handing it to him. (A small part of you resists the urge to throw it square at his face. Maybe the image of him on the floor with a bloodied nose would make your day a little easier, but then you’re sure you’d be jobless).

“Here you go,” you say with as much kindness as you can muster. (It’s not a lot). “Please do bring it back when you’re done. Some of us actually complete paper work, so the stapler is a necessity.”

“Oh yeah?” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling with mischief, “don’t worry, I won’t hold your stapler hostage for too long. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the flow of your productivity.”

You watch with wary eyes as he walks back to his desk, stapling some small, tiny note of sorts before walking right back, handing the paper and the stapler to you.

“What’s this?” You raise a brow.

“Some paper work for you to fill out,” he grins, the vagueness of his answer making a vein all but pop in your forehead.

Before you even have a chance to tell him that you most certainly will not be entertaining whatever silly prank he’s playing, he walks right off, sagging into his chair as he does an obnoxious little spin and goes back to typing at his computer. Probably yet another email with a ridiculous ending, you think to yourself.

Against your better judgement, you stare at the note, eyeing the small flap he’s stapled over an index card. You lift it up, quickly scanning over his scribbled writing.

Want to grab coffee during lunch? Check your answer:

▢ yes! ▢ absolutely! ▢ most definitely!

Your eye twitches.

Grabbing a pen, you quickly add a box underneath his (very confident) options, checking it off and writing in neat, pristine handwriting:

▣ not a chance!

You stand, walking over to his desk and ignoring his perked up, excited little smile as you drop the note back on the table and head back to your own desk. A tiny wave of satisfaction weaves through your body when you notice him read over your response and deflate, a small pout forming over his lips.

Regretfully, a small part of you can’t help but acknowledge that he’s actually…kind of cute when his lips are curled like that. But a larger part of you shakes that thought away and cringes internally. It’s a shame his personality ruins the genetic blessings he seems to have been bestowed with.

And you think that’s the end of it—but of course, with someone like Satoru in the office, there’s never the end of anything.

You watch as an email pops up on your screen, opening it only to stare blankly at his name and roll your eyes at the subject line:

────────────────────────

Follow-Up on Submitted Paperwork

Greetings office neighbor,

Thank you for submitting the paperwork. Unfortunately, I couldn’t help but notice that it does not fully align with the outlined guidelines. Could you please provide clarification or revise the submission accordingly?

Thanks a million,

Gojo Satoru :)

────────────────────────

And there he goes again with those obnoxious sign-offs, you think bitterly. Instantly, you’re clicking away at your keyboard as you type back an agitated response. Of course, you really shouldn’t entertain his ridiculous schemes, but something about him gets under your skin enough that you simply can’t help yourself.

You huff in approval at your response as you read it over before hitting send.

Instantly, as if he was waiting, you see his hand reach for his mouse and click on his screen to open your email as his eyes scan over your reply:

────────────────────────

Thank you for reaching out,

Unfortunately, I was unable to fully adhere to the outlined guidelines, as they are not viable in this situation. To address this, I adjusted the submission to align more effectively with a more practical outcome.

Hope that helps!

Your office neighbor :)

────────────────────────

Just when you think he’s given up, he rolls his chair over to your desk, causing a couple of annoyed heads to tilt up and glare at him for the noise before turning their attention back to their work. You pinch your nose as his chair rolls to a stop in front of your desk.

“Yes?” You grit through your teeth.

“Hey, office neighbor,” he hums, “just wanted to clarify your most recent email with you. I’m a bit confused.”

“Which part confused you?” You bat your lashes in faux charm, sarcastically smiling at him as he hums, grabbing a piece of candy from your little bowl of sweets at your desk and helping himself.

Your eye twitches a little at the gesture. Those are for you to enjoy throughout a miserable work day.

“Um…” he trails off as he pretends to think, “I’d say all of it.”

“I see,” you nod slowly, fighting every bone in your body not to snap at him with a colorful choice of words. “Essentially, the options in your original document did not highlight a plausible set of deliverables, so I corrected them for you with a more realistic one. Make sense?”

“Not really,” he sighs dramatically, pretending to scratch his head in confusion. You want nothing more than to grab those snowy locks and slam his face into your paper shredder. “Could you go over it one more time? I’m still lost.”

You’re just about to lose your patience with him when suddenly, the entire office seems to collectively take in a sharp breath, everyone scrambling to look as productive as possible while a tall, older looking man with suspiciously familiar white hair and blue eyes walks through the office. Something in your brain sets off alarm bells, but you can’t quite completely piece it together what it is about him seems so….recognizable.

“Who’s that?” You frown, scrunching your nose in confusion as everyone straightens up.

“That would be the final boss,” he snorts. You roll your eyes at his word choice before blinking and straightening up yourself.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, voice a panicked whisper as you ask, “you mean the owner of this company?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, raising a brow at you in amusement. “Never seen him before?”

“No,” you hiss, “I’m just the intern! Now go back to your desk before he thinks we’re goofing off, I’d like to keep my job, please.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he hums.

You send him a nasty glare, just about at your wits end as you whisper-yell, “I am going to throw my stapler right at your—”

“Satoru, I need you in my office,” comes a stern, deep voice, interrupting you as you quickly shut your mouth.

“You got it, old man,” he salutes in mock seriousness. Suddenly, your spine goes rigid and your eyes widen. The man walks off with a firm nod as Satoru stands, giving you an innocent smile.

Suddenly, it dawns on you just why he looked so strikingly familiar.

“Did you just call him old man?” You blink, mouth agape.

“Yup,” he winks, walking backwards as his eyes stay trained on you while he heads for the elevator. “I’ll put in a good word for you when he’s in a better mood at home tonight. I think we can discuss the specifics over coffee during our lunch hour, yeah?”

[satorena]

❛ # MÉNAGE À TROIS ! ❜

ᡣ𐭩 featuring. g. satoru x reader x g. suguru

☆ warnings. explicit content. foul language. thrēēsome (mmf). getting caught in the act. ceo!satoru and secretary!reader make a comeback. jealous gojo. ceo!suguru but he’s a pervert. crēāmpie. fīngerīng. oral (f+m). backshots. afab!reader. feminine descriptions used.

ᡣ𐭩 serena's note. can be read as a stand-alone but it’s basically a continuing to unprofessionalism !

“are you—mmph, insane?!” you’re hoping your words are convincing enough to draw him back to his senses, despite them jumbling out your mouth and right into his. pressed up against the door of the empty bathroom, your legs are spread apart in favour to be supported by a strong thigh. big hands slide from your lower back to your ass, and squeeze, forcing a moan out of you. “we’re in public— we’ll get caught!”

when gojo does give you space to breathe, a thin string of saliva connects from his bottom lip to yours. he pants heavily, lips shaded a hue of cherry red as the corner of his mouth tugs into a sadistic smile, “yeah but don’t that make it more excitin’ though?”

you blink at him, the thought having already crossed your mind. you weren’t in any position to oppose as you’d even gone commando to a formal business dinner all due to your perverted boss’ orders. but a lot would be at stake here— you both could lose your jobs if caught, and you’d most likely be labelled a whore for the rest of your career. naturally, that was the last thing you wanted, and yet—

“quit overthinkin’ sweets,” you’re pulled out of your train of thought when his bulge grinds against your core. you gasp, eye lids fluttering shut as a rush of heat spreads in your gut. you feel his hands grip your waist and drag your hips forward, angling your body at a perfect position enough to force a whine out of you.

he leans forward to seal his lips with yours yet again, and you foolishly kiss him back. gojo pulls away too quickly for your liking, though his lips trail from the corner of your mouth to trail hot kisses at your jaw, to the slope of your neck. “promise we’ll be quick, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“b-but,” you stammer, head thrown back against the cold surface of the door as your fingernails claw to the fabric of his expensive blazer. you try to recollect your thoughts, perfectly aware of how risky this entire situation could be. you do not get wetter because of the idea of getting caught—no way, you’d rather blame it on the stimulation of your clit rubbing against muscly thighs. “i could lose my job! or worse, we could lose our jobs—”

“‘m not gonna let that happen.” gojo cuts you off sternly, hand leaving the dip in your waist in favour of cupping your jaw. his index raises your chin, enforcing eye contact between you both to ensure his certainty. there isn’t a shred of doubt in those cerulean orbs, gaze intensely strong as opposed to your shyer one.

the arm at your hips snake around the perimeter of your lower back to hug you snugly against him. you’re entirely at his disposition— body trapped between the door and his much larger frame towering over you, and you hate the way your chest tightens at the unreadable look on his face.

“ever.” he repeats more firmly, before planting a short kiss onto your lips. you’re taken aback from the intimacy behind the kiss, as if he really were trying to reassure you you had nothing to worry about it. he might’ve been reckless and utterly stupid, but when it mattered, he really could be reliable. “do ya trust me?”

“yes.” you answer honestly, and the grin he offers at your response confirms every shred of doubt you’d had in mind. of course you’d do this— you were as much unprofessional as he was.

“that’s my girl.” you jolt at the firm blow landed on your ass. when your lips fall into an annoyed pout, he’s quick to kiss it away, beaming at you like a child on their way to a candy store. “now go face the mirror f’me— needa apologize for not properly treating you right the last time.”

you’re sure he’s referring to your last encounter in his office when he’d decided to punish you for bad mouthing him by skipping oral, if the way he hiked your dress up to your hips, kneeled on the floor and spread your pussy lips apart said anything. you shiver from the cool air he breathes at your aching cunt, fingers gripping the ceramic sink before you.

“shitttt,” you moan, head lolling forward when you feel his tongue swipe from your clit all the way near your rear end. gojo latches his lips onto yours, and feasts like a starved man. he rotates his tongue into motions he knows will have your knees buckle the way it does, flicks it at your a swollen leaking clit, and fucks it in and out of your clenching hole. “f-fuck, satoru, oh my goddd!”

he groans loudly into your cunt, big hands gripping an asscheek each as he divulges into your core. you’re a slippery mess, and you can’t imagine how soaked his face must be by how sloppy he tugs and nibbles onto your labia, drinking up any fluid you have to offer him. he makes it nearly impossible to keep alert of any upcoming visitors— any time you attempt to regard the door, just a peek over you shoulder, he plunges his canines into the flesh of your ass and spanks at your cunt. it’s as if he wants you to completely trust and rely on his word.

“nah uh princess.” you feel the impact of the coolness of his rings against your warm folds, mixture of saliva and your juices splurting as he spanks you. you feel your thighs trembling as you whine, eyes rolling to the back of your skull from the pleasurable pain. “you’re offendin’ me over here. focus on me—not that damn door.” if you didn’t know any better, he was definitely pouting with a mouth full of your cunt.

how ridiculous.

“‘m just tryna w-watch out for the doo—ooohh!” his tongue finds its way to your clit and you officially give up. completely surrendering yourself to his disposition, you let your guard down and allow him to ravish you whole.

it’s proven difficult to keep your eyes on yourself as you watch your reflection through low lidded eyes— gloss smeared on your swollen lips as fat tears build at your lower lash line. your neck and chest littered in love bites, areas that are incredibly visible to the public. and under any other circumstance, you would’ve made a big fuss about it, but you simply couldn’t care with gojo’s index and middle finger pumping in and out of your sopping pussy.

you’re irresponsible and foolish, and admittedly shameful as you feel the infamous knot of arousal in your core tightening. your knees feel wobbly, and you’re moans tune into a higher pitch as you claw the marble sink. gojo reads your body language well, his pace steady as he simultaneously finger fucks your cunt while lapping at your bundle of nerves.

you shoot him a look behind your shoulders, the sight of your boss on his knees aiming to please you admittedly quickening the process, “s-satoru, fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum!” you whimper, bottom lip tugged into your teeth. you remove your death claw grip on the sink in favour of carding your fingers through a set of fluffy hair.

he cocks a brow behind snowy locks, cerulean eyes peering at you with sheer intensity. he knows you’re close, could’ve guessed from how tightly you clamped down on his tongue, and he’s aiming to give you the best damn orgasm you’ve ever felt in your life because you deserve it.

it takes one, two, three jabs of his fingers at that spongy spot against your muscles for the dam to break. and it all happens too damn quickly to register—your eyelids beginning to shut close as your cunt squirts onto gojo’s face with the addition of an indifferent suguru geto at the bathroom door—

wait. wait wait wait.

your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets as you’re quickly drawn back into reality, “oh shittttt— shit! w-wait, toru, hol’on a second ‘m— he’s right there— fuckin’ hell!”

it’s like he’s doing it to fuck with you, deliberately ignoring your pleas as he swirls his tongue deeper into your high. it takes a forceful grab of your fingers at his scalp to remove him away from your cunt, and even that makes him moan.

his skin is botched red and glistening wet in your arousal, a childish pout resting on his shiny lips. he looks like a child who you’ve confiscated his jar of cookies for overeating, “what’s the rush, princess? y’re kinda killin’ me here, ‘m not done with you just yet.”

“so is she the girl?” geto shuts the door behind him, back resting against the flat surface. he cocks his head to the side and presents his infamous smile— the one you’ve seen briefly in the hallways as you passed by him, on your way out of your boss’ office.

“hmm?” gojo tilts his head to the intruding voice, and when his eyes fall onto his colleague, he lazily shrugs his shoulders, as if his appearance had been the most natural thing. “oh, suguru—what’re you doin’ here?”

“they’ve sent me to come find you both as the closing speech is soon commencing,” geto pushes himself off the door and takes long strides towards you both. “though i did have my suspicions— turns out i was right. satoru, you fuckin’ whore.”

your heart beat wildly against your chest. your mind raced a mile a minute, thoughts in turmoil as you fought between the fear that settled im your gut from being caught by another worker but simultaneously feeling your cunt ache at getting caught by another worker.

“heyyy, that’s fuckin’ rude,” gojo squints his eyes at his friend, a firm hand raising to spank your ass. you jolt from the impact as you squeal, your face heating in embarrassment at the situation. “she isn’t the girl, she’s my girl. there’s a difference and you oughta learn it.”

geto waves a hand around as if to dismiss his complaints. “yeah yeah, sure.” the ravenette stops before you, and for the first time you notice just how much tall he is too. a large frame sitting in an expensive tuxedo towering over your bent form, leaning forward to sit at an eye-level with you.

your lips part, as if to weakly defend yourself from the shameful situation you’ve found yourself in, but before words can escape your throat, you feel his knuckles grazing along the slope of your jawline. the gentle touch begins at your jaw and trails down to your chin, where the pad of his thumb then fondles at the corner of your mouth.

there’s a hypnotic look in his eyes— a seductive gaze stuck in the endless pools of purple as he stares you down. despite still being clothed, you feel naked beneath his gaze, and yet you can’t find yourself looking away, even when he hooks his thumb into your mouth.

“hi beautiful. mind tellin’ me your name?” geto asks, the melody of his voice so honeyed that you can’t help the automatic response you give him. he chuckles, pulling his thumb out of your lips and swiping the wet digit against your bottom lip.

“gorgeous name for a gorgeous beholder,” you’ve heard that line before, most likely from your boss, and if it ever came out corny then, then it certainly didn’t feel corny now. “tell me y/n, has satoru taken care of you properly?”

gojo interrupts, taken aback by the nerve of his friend’s assumption of him. “what— of course i have! who do you take me for?” you can hear the whine through his words, though you were still entirely stuck in a trance by the man before you. “baby, tell ‘im i took good care of ya!”

“mind if i take a look?” geto cocks his head to the side, the tip of his nose grazing yours. blinking, you suddenly realized the proximity of the man before you, warm breath fanning above the dip of your cupid’s bow. “promise i won’t take too long. feel free to say no.”

and rationally speaking, you should’ve said no. you should’ve taken the outing and tell him it was unprofessional and entirely risky since you’d already gotten caught by him, and had it been any other worker, you would’ve surely been black balled for the rest of your career days. and yet, the way his touches felt comforting and safe, fleeting from the back of your neck down to your arms and chest, another around your torso—

oh fuck it. “yeah, g-go ahead.” you nod instead, your mind telling you one thing but your pussy telling you another.

“whaaaaat?! y/n!” gojo complains, but geto’s quick to smile at you, going as far as calling you a ‘good girl’ before quickly shoving gojo out of the way. he crouches down as gojo rises to his full height, one hand holding onto your cheek and spreading it as the other grips onto the back of your thigh.

you suddenly feel very aware of the situation at hand, and lower your head in shame, teeth nibbling onto your bottom lip. you feel like a slut— your pussy casually being inspected by another high figure at your workplace, meanwhile your boss leans against a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown on his face.

“not bad satoru.” geto teasingly praises his friend, the grip on your cheek spreading the flesh further apart, as your sticky cunt squelches in result. your lips then follow suit as they spread, and geto abandons the hold on your thigh in favour of swiping his thumb to collect all of your juices, before popping it in his mouth. “mmhm, she’s all wet and sweet too. can’t believe you were holdin’ out on me man. i feel betrayed.”

“ever considered the fact i don’t want to share her with anyone? much less you?” gojo retaliates, pushing himself off the wall to stand beside you. your brows furrow at his words, eyes following his steps before he plants himself at your side.

geto chuckles, an sleek eyebrow raising up, “oh?”

gojo ignores his friend in favour of directing his attention towards you, pushing your hair away from your face and behind your ear. you blink at him through thick lashes, tilting your head into the warmth of his palm at your cheek, “if you don’t want this at any time, just lemme know and i’ll kick his ass, yeah?”

“wait.” you hold onto the wrist near your face, and his blue eyes follow the point of contact before returning to your eyes. you suddenly feel bashful as he stares at you as if you were the only girl in the world. “wanna suck you off too. . . y’know, as a payment for earlier.”

“yeah?” his smirk returns to his face, fiddling with a piece of your hair between his fingers. you roll your eyes despite the smile that crept at your own lips. “i dunno sweets, it’s startin’ to sound like you’re in love with me or somethin’.”

“not even in your wildest dreams, satoru.” you scoff, grabbing the hand that played with your hair to rest it above the mounds of your chest. the fleeting touch of his fingers against your perky buds through the thin material of your dress has you humming in pleasure. you watch as his eyes light up like a child on christmas day, the smirk on his lips stretched even wider as he cups onto your sensitive flesh.

gojo pushes the material of your dress aside to free your tits, watching the recoil as your bud comes to contact with cooler air and instantly stiffens. “oh come on—you can admit it princess, y’know i won’t hold it against you.”

you lick your lips, “give me a break toru— hngh, fuck!”

“oops, my hand slipped.” geto comments, running his fingers up and down the entrance of your folds. you can tell by the sound of his voice that it was definitely not an accident, as he dips his fingers in and out of your cunt, drawing out moans from you.

you fail to see how gojo frowns, a bitter look on his face as his best friend snatches your attention away from him. it’s soon replaced by admiration when your face contorts into that beautiful look you make whenever you’re completely over washed with pleasure— and even if it isn’t him offering you that euphoric feeling, he feels his cock twitch in his slacks regardless.

“toruuuu,” you call out his name, your gaze unfocused as you stare him up with doe eyes. you watch as he gulps, completely enamoured by you. “whip it out already, need it in my mouth.”

you giggle as he wastes no time, fumbling with the belt at his slacks before dropping them to his knees. he pulls out his cock from his dampened briefs, dick standing tall in arousal. veins decorated the sensitive skin all over, his mushroom tip a raging red as it dribbled pre cum. you could feel your mouth salivate at the look of his dick alone, balls hanging heavily full of cum.

he tightens his fist around the perimeter of his cock, dragging it down from the base all the way up to his tip, a guttural moan heaving from deep in his chest. he’s taunting you, and you shamefully feel your cunt dampen at his wanton sounds, “ngh, you ready baby?”

from behind you, you hear geto’s slacks also fall down to his ankles as he pumps his own hardness right against the cleft of your reddened cheek. he taps the tip of his dick against your soft flesh, watching the recoil of your ass bouncing on his cock, panting heavily as his words come out breathily, “you—shit, good to go, y/n?”

you nod eagerly, legs spreading for stability as you bend your upper body forward. your hands grip around the firm muscle of gojo’s thighs, and your nose nuzzles in the bush of snowy pubes, his musk clouding over your senses in a familiar way. your tongue lolls out as it rolls over the sensitive skin of his ballsack and sucks, and gojo whines, hand immediately flying to the back of your head to grip at your hair tightly.

you can feel the tip of geto’s dick pushing past your first ring of muscle, and you attempt to relax the muscles of your body at the intense intrusion of his penetration. he’s fucking girthy— much thicker than gojo, though not as lengthier. he’s stretching you out in ways that has your limbs liquify in heat, fingernails clawing deeper into gojo’s pale skin.

“fuck, shit, you gotta loosen up f’me baby— you’re too tight,” geto grunts, hands gripping tightly at your waist as he lurches forward. your stomach tightens in lust as your thighs tremble, the intrusion of his cock balls deep in your cunt melting your brain. he’d just bottom out, and you already felt on cloud nine.

“feel s’good, ngh fuckkk—mmph!” your mouth is suddenly full, the familiar taste of saltiness resting on the pallets of your tongue. you hear gojo above you moan pathetically, hips already rutting desperately into the warmth cave of your mouth.

you’ve sucked him off plenty before and so you know just how he likes it— sloppy and tight. you hollow your cheeks and stay mindful of your teeth, as you relax your throat muscles and let him work his magic.

“there’s my good girl, fuck yeah— y’know jus’ how i love it, dontcha?” gojo smiles down at you, thumb grazing at the dent in your cheek. he drags his thumb over the outline of his cock against your face, “what a fuckin’ beauty, shit, keep doin’ great for me, hnghhh, ‘m gonna bust soon.”

“already?” geto teases, thrusts languid as they match the pace of his friend’s. his hips meet the curve of your ass in hypnotic bounces as your ass ripples off his pelvis, and gojo’s quick to roll his eyes.

“fuck you,” it’s meant to come off as an insult but when you take him even further down, a gag tightening around the length of his cock, it trails off into a desperate moan.

“no thanks, ‘ve got your pretty little secretary here.” geto hisses when your pussy clamps down on his cock. he feels sweat begin to collect at his hairline, and focuses on the grip of your folds latching at his dick desperately.

you feel a firm blow at your ass cheeks, your muffled whines echoing in the room at the stinging pleasure. you attempt to run away from the impaling dick in your stomach, but you feel geto’s hands grab at your hips, stabilizing your limp body before a hand rises up and pushes your back into a curve.

“and where do you think y’re goin’?” geto tuts, hips angling at a new position, one that draws a broken mewl from your sore throat. every moan resonates against the dick stuffed in your mouth, and the sounds travel from gojo’s tip all the way to his stomach, as he feels his balls tighten.

“oh god baby, y’can’t do that to me!” gojo mewls, matted locks glued to his forehead from excessive sweat. you feel his droplets trickle down to your forehead, dribbling down your face and combining in the mixture of fluids leaking from your lips.

you feel his dick twitching in your mouth, a telltale that he’s bound to bust his load in no time. you release a hold from his thigh to cup at his balls, gently fondling with the sack as you bob your head forward to match his pace. saliva pools from the corner of your mouth and dribbles down your chin to the floor.

geto leans forward, chest pressed against the arch of your back. his breath is warm and tickles at the column of your hickey-littered neck, and the stretch of his girthy cock spreading the tight muscles of your rim has your stomach knotting in foreign pleasure.

his hand creeps in between your thighs, fingers toying with your aching clit as his lips graze at the shell of your ear, “love havin’ this clit of yours played with?” he purrs in your ear, lips ghosting over the goosebumps of your skin, and despite being gagged, you nod your head frantically in response. he’s bottomed out, balls deep inside your cunt, grinding his hips and rubbing his cock into areas you had yet to explore. “such a good slut f’me, ain’t that right?”

“for me– ngh, me too!” gojo argues childishly, quivery pink lips falling into a pout. he runs the pad of his thumb against your cheek, hooking his fingertip at the corner of your lips, thus painfully widening the hole of your mouth.

tears quickly build up at your lash line, vision blurring when you feel geto pull back up, landing blow after blow on the planes of your ass. the harsh impacts and rough thrusts has your backside ricochetting against his pelvis, your pussy clenching uncontrollably. the sensation was one that left you speechless– besides gojo’s lengthy cock occupying your throat. it was most definitely an uncomfortable stretch, but every now and then, when you’d feel the coolness of geto’s rings trailing down your inner thighs and the pad of his fingers soothing the ache at your clit, it easily subsided into pleasure.

“shitttt, just wan’ stay in your mouth forever,” gojo whines loudly, head thrown back with his brows cinched. he’s completely forgotten about your own comfort, fucking into your mouth for the sake of his own pleasure. you watch as his abs contract, chest heaving deeply, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. 

another gag rips out of your mouth when gojo abruptly plows into your mouth, your nose all the way to his snowy white pubic hairs. he moans all prettily, hand clutching tightly at your hair at the back of your head, before pulling away and repeating the same motions, “hell yeah baby– just like that, fuck.”

with tears now streaking down your cheeks, your mouth salivates uncontrollably as you clamp down on suguru’s cock, balls heavy with cum as they slap against your clit.

“shit—fuck, hold on,” geto hisses, thrown off by gojo’s sudden pace. purple orbs trail at the curve of your back all the way up to your bobbing head, when he’s hit with an idea. you fail to see it, but the smirk he shoots at his best friend is enough to telltale. you can only realise they’re up to no good too late, when gojo mirrors the smirk before him.

“match my rhythm and watch how quick she’ll cum.”

and embarrassingly enough, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten when you’re pounded into roughly from behind. their pace now much quicker and rougher, your broken moans turn into gargles around gojo’s shaft, and in an attempt to run away from the overwhelmingly thrusts stretching at your pussy, you instinctively move forward, only to choke around a twitching dick. you then realise their plan, when you try to pull away from the mushroom tip stroking at your uvula and wind up back into geto’s possession, balls deep in your cunt.

well shit.

they treat your body as if it were a fleshlight– a mere toy for their own pleasure, and you couldn’t deny the objectification of your body at their dispense had your body tense in straight arousal. the bulge in your throat and musky scent of gojo’s bush overwhelming your senses, and the thickness of geto’s shaft tearing your hole apart had you coming undone quicker than you’d like to admit.

“oh yeahhh,” geto whistles, never letting up his pounding as you leak through your pussy like a faucet. “look at that pussy go– clenchin’ down on me like a whore. y’fuckin’ love it when we slut you out like this, hm? our very own cumdump– shit, gonna fill you up nice ‘n good.”

“that’s my pretty baby— mmhm, swallow every last drop, mkay?” you feel your mouth being filled with warm spurts of cum, thick ropes shooting down your throat as gojo groans. “s’good for princesses like you, fuckkk, better open wide.”

✧.*

“i’m. . . gonna get goin’ now. you two stay back.” you tug at your dress, fixing your appearance with a nod before exiting the bathroom.

the two friends are left in the space as they run water against the heat of the skin, cleaning up any trace of mess they’ve left behind. the silence is incredibly loud, despite the faucet leaking water into the sink.

“she’s cute. i see why you like her.” geto comments, rolling his sleeves up before pumping his hands full of soap. he clicks his tongue against his teeth, “definitely piques interest.”

“suguru.” gojo deadpans, staring him down through the reflection of the mirror. geto looks up and returns the stare, though the crease of his cheeks through his smile sets gojo off wrongly. he can tell what his friend is thinking, and he doesn’t want to play this game— not with you.

“don’t. . . please. just don’t.” gojo breathes out, chest rising up and down. he doesn’t realize his fists are balled tight, nor that there’s a frown on his face. “she’s different, and i really like her. if you consider yourself my friend, you won’t.”

geto eyes him through slanted eyes, washing off the suds of soap on his palms before turning off the tap. every second passes by agonizingly slow for gojo as he watches his friend move. his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and his chest uncharacteristically tight.

he walks to the paper towel dispenser, before drying his hands and shoving the paper down the garbage. gojo’s eyes trail his every move yet again.

finally, purple eyes meet his and they curve into that infamous smile— one that could send chills down your spine if not on his good side.

“yeah, i got you.”

thank you @nantoji for beta reading 🙂‍↕️.

[winnie1emon]

✧.* now what happens when you find a frustrated theodore nott on the quidditch pitch...?

theodore nott x prefect!lamb!reader (fem pov)

word count: approx. 2.4k

cw: MDNI!!, smut, dom!theo, innocent!reader, sexual language, praise, piv, fingering, unprotected sex, face painting lmao, slight exhibitionism(?)(on the quidditch stands lol)

a/n: first smut fic like ever i fear... don't bully please </3 + been working on this sleep-deprived, lmk about spelling mistakes :(

"Hey- hey!" you said loudly over the raging music, leaning over your friend's shoulder. "I'm gonna go; got prefect duty!"

Your friend, too engrossed in your house's quidditch victory party after they had beaten Slytherin earlier that evening, gave you a mere nod before realizing you actually said something. "Really? There are other prefects out anyways and you never find anyone. Don't be lame, just stay!"

"No, it's fine. I like walking outside anyways, it's fun," you explained, garnering a rather dismissive wave goodbye from your friend.

You trudged down the corridors searching for the way out of the castle. Curfew was approaching and you were given the task of finding a few stragglers outdoors; a task you most appreciated due to the fact you'd never find anybody and you were usually lucky with receiving ample amounts of good weather.

Too comfortable with the usual, you spent most of your patrol time frolicking on the grassy fields and never looked too carefully for any students. You were about to head back inside when you saw the broom shed's door open. Curiously, you peered inside and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary...

A bit daunted, you closed the door and suddenly saw movement in the corner of your eye. You whipped around quickly, seeing someone flying on the quidditch pitch. You made your way into the pitch, assuming it was some overzealous lowerclassman riding on their broomstick.

As you made your way into the pitch, you realized how large it really was, somewhat awestruck. Hearing a distressed grunt, you turned around and saw the person who was flying, quite a distance away, chuck their broom onto the ground. You hastened over and the image came into view. Their brunette waves became clearer with each step you took and you managed to get their attention.

"H-hey!" You waved. You came to a stop in front of them, slightly huffing as they looked at you acutely. "Theodore, it's curfew in like... oh, two minutes ago."

Theodore raised an eyebrow at your words, seeming as if he had no idea who you were. "What?" he asked you, even though he heard what you said.

"It's past curfew, you can't be here," you said patiently. "What are you even doing here?"

"What's it look like?" he retorted. "Practicing," he added before you could answer his rhetoric question.

"Well... you should practice tomorrow. You already had that game today, you should take a break," you suggested.

He gave you what was probably the most condescending look ever, roaming over your figure. "Yeah, and we lost, princess. Need to practice."

"Don't overwork yourself," you said, your voice tinged with concern. "You were great today, I saw!"

"Mhm, probably cheering on your house, yeah?" he sneered. "Just get lost, I'm not harmin' anyone by practicing, but you're going to tell someone aren't you?" He looked a bit taut and you couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for him. After all, he wasn't the worst player on his team yet he was the only one here practicing, probably losing hairs in the process.

"No, I won't tell anyone," you said quickly. "You look exhausted though. At least sit down." You trailed all the way to one of the tall wooden towers going up to the quidditch spectator stands, feeling the wooden bench poke your thighs. Surprisingly, he sat beside you on your right with a grunt, running his hands through his hair.

Well, now what.

You peered at him in wonderment as his gaze was set straight, admiring his birthmark. Your eyes trailed around the side of his face, looking at his thick, dark brows and then at his slightly unkempt hair. He turned suddenly to face you and you darted your head away, embarrassed. He let out a small scoff, throwing his head down in a smirk.

"So," you started. "You like quidditch?" you asked dumbly. He obviously did... he plays.

"I do," he responded. "When we win."

"You guys almost did," you consoled him, tentatively reaching to rub his shoulder.

Theodore didn't protest, finding the way your palm's touch warmed his shoulder unexpectedly comforting. He looked at your seemingly apologetic face before his eyes wandered down your form, going from your neck and then down to your legs.

"Mm, almost."

Fidgeting with your fingers, you spoke up again. "Yeah, almost! Almost is good!" You reassured him. "Don't beat yourself up-- you're already so stressed." You recalled the instances in class where he'd focus on his work, the times you saw him in the library as you patrolled the halls, and the way he never seemed to hang out with his friends this past week.

"Oh princess," he said, calling you that nickname again, making you turn a light shade of pink. "When has almost winning ever helped anyone? What can I do about the stress? Nothing's going to change if I don't work." He gave a nonchalant shrug, breaking contact with your sorry eyes as he buried his head in his hands.

"Uhm... I mean, do you want help?" You peered at him, wide-eyed and full of pity.

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

And that's how you found yourself sitting on the open quidditch stands, thighs squeezed together with your head downcast as Theodore rubbed lazy circles over your underwear.

"I-I don't really see how this is supposed to help you," you mumbled.

He used his other hand to hold your chin gently, guiding your head to face him. "You think seeing a pretty girl like you lookin' like this doesn't help me?" he simpered. You felt your face heat up from the compliment, shifting your thighs to press against each other some more.

He let go of your chin and you looked down to watch him spread your thighs apart gently. Despite never being his friend, his touch felt familiar, even soothing. In fact, you didn't protest against him, even when you felt him slip your underwear to the side and insert a thick finger into your cunt.

Your mouth agape, you turned to look at him, brows knitting together as he met your gaze with a lascivious smile. You pressed your lips together to try and catch your breath, but it only lasted a few seconds as your lips parted once he entered another digit into you. He moved slowly, not taking his eyes off of yours, drinking in your dazed look.

You felt his pace increase, his fingers going in and out of your now glossy cunt rapidly, and let out a shaky moan which made Theodore's mouth contort in a wicked smile. You threw your head back, looking up at the greying sky. He leaned closer to you, his warm breath hitting your ear as he whispered.

"Feels good, yeah? Feels good to help me decompress hm?" He asked you quietly, having you squirm from his touch. You nodded meekly and let out a small yeah in response.

You had never experienced anything like this before. You were sort of scared, but also excited... maybe a bit confused? ...happy to help?

His touch eventually slowed, his two now-soaked fingers leaving your cunt as he held them up in front of you. Your eyes followed his fingers, your face turning into that of surprise as he brought his fingers into his mouth momentarily.

"So sweet..." he breathed out. "Come on, open up," he slapped your cheek lightly with his clean hand.

You opened your mouth slightly, your eyes looking reluctant.

"Come on, don't be scared," he cooed. You opened a little wider and he gently placed the two fingers on your tongue. You swirled your tongue around slowly, tasting sweet, kind of salty as well, but you weren't sure if that was you or his fingers. Taking in your appearance with his fingers in your mouth, he gave a breathy chuckle. "Cute."

He stood up from the bench with a sigh, taking a step in front of you. "Just one more thing, that okay?" he asked, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile.

"Yeah- yeah sure," you agreed. Even though you were unfamiliar with what you guys were doing, you were just glad you could help him out in some way.

"Good girl. --Has anyone told you how sweet you are?" He leaned forward slightly and cupped your cheeks to tilt your head upwards as you stayed seated on the bench.

"Some people, mhm," you nodded.

"Well, they weren't lying." He complimented you casually, making your stomach lurch in an oddly pleasant way. You adverted your gaze so you could soak in his compliment, your head then snapping up at the sound of a zipper. He gave you a wink that you'd be thinking about for the next week and a dazzling smile that you couldn't protest against.

He guided your legs up off the ground so you'd be kneeling on the stands bench and turned you around, having you facing opposite of the center of the quidditch pitch, towards the castle. Your eyes widened from the circumstances, the risk of being so exposed. You heard him shuffle a little behind you, the sound of his pants going down, boxers following.

You felt one of his cold fingers brush against your skin as he pushed your skirt up, making you shudder. He pulled your sodden underwear down and you heard him take a sharp inhale. His fingers ran over your folds, eliciting a groan from him. "You're so wet... n' you've never done this?" he asked you.

You shook your head, making him sigh.

"And you really want to give this to me?"

"Yeah, I do," you muttered quietly. You didn't care that it was Theodore, you just saw him as someone who needed some help and you were going to give it to them... Oh, who were you kidding? Of course you cared that it was Theodore. The Slytherin that you'd always catch yourself ogling at during the quidditch games, the one you'd stare at in potions, the guy you'd hold the door open for before Charms class.

Seeing no reason to delay his pleasure, Theodore positioned himself between your legs, holding your waist from behind as he pushed the tip of his cock into your ready cunt. You couldn't help the large gasp you let out while he stretched you out. You tried to recuperate momentarily, but he continued to enter you slowly, feeling as if there was no end.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he murmured. He slid in and out of you slowly, picking up the pace over time before you started to let out involuntary moans.

"Theo- Theodore," you huffed out, almost whining. "The castle-- someone could see us," you worried.

His pace becoming incontinent, he brushed off your concern with ease. "No one will, okay?"

Even with his reassurance, you couldn't help but feel sheepish, your anxiety spiking as the thrill got to you.

"Oh my g-god," you moaned. Theodore leaned into your back, head resting on the nape of your shoulder. He snaked his arm on your other shoulder, putting you in a headlock. You brought your hands up to hold his arm, your mind going blank as he started up a relentless speed on you and had his other arm travel down to rub on your clit.

"Shh, shh," he whispered. "Now they will see us if you don't quiet down, yeah?" You nodded in agreement, understanding that you mustn't be loud. After a few minutes of biting back your moans as he drilled into you, he positioned you to lie on your back, on one of the benches. You complied and allowed him to reposition himself into you.

"F-fuck!" You mewled, unable to contain yourself in the new position.

"Shh, shh, shhh..." he shushed you once again, covering your mouth with a large hand as the other held both of your legs against his chest. "Be quiet for me, okay? You can do it," he murmured into your ear, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You nodded slowly as you looked up at him when he pulled his head away from you. "Good... so good."

So entranced by his eye contact, your brain drowned out the sounds of his cock going in and out of your sopping cunt, forgetting all about your precarious surroundings.

You felt the knot in your stomach begin to unravel and you knew that your orgasm was nearing. You clawed at Theodore's hand that was on your mouth and he let go, allowing your ragged gasps to float out into the air.

"You okay?" he asked you. "You close?" He couldn't help but smile endearingly at your state, horribly disheveled, biting your own lip to keep yourself from attracting attention.

"Mm," you nodded weakly, feeling your legs begin to shake. As you came undone, you felt him slow down, letting out groans of his own. You bit down on your lips harder and you could feel tears creeping into your eyes as you felt overloaded with sensations. He pulled out of you with a light pop and stepped towards your head.

He had his cock a few inches above your face and looked hesitant before asking, "May I?"

You honestly weren't very sure of what he was requesting, but you let out a soft yeah, being surprised once he spilled onto your face.

Your lips parted into an o-shape as you squinted slightly. After one last drop, you ran a finger on your cheek, observing the mark he left on you trailing down your finger. He dropped his hands to his side and crouched down to be face level with you. He cupped your face with his hands as he ushered you to sit up.

"You're a sweetheart, so nice of you to help," he praised. Even though he had just done things to you that you'd never even been brave enough to imagine an hour prior, you couldn't fight back the bashful look on your face.

"Of course," you whispered. "Do you feel better?" you asked, pulling your underwear back up.

"Yeah, yeah I do," he chortled. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You saw the sky darkening by the second and looked out the pitch. "Oh! Someone's coming!" you exclaimed.

He gave a mischievous smile that you could stare at for days, planted a quick kiss on your lips, and grabbed your hand to stand you up, brushing ur skirt down to cover your behind.

"Then let's go."

―――――――――ʚ♡ɞ―――――――――

[cherrygirlfriend]

against the mirror

pairing: rafe cameron x bsf!reader

genre: smutsmutsmut, minors DNI!!! bathroom sex, PIV, cheating (rafe has a gf), mirror sex, unprotected sex

synopsis: having fun with your best friend at a party bathroom

word count: 3.5k ...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩

You stood outside on the balcony, observing the moon that was perched on the dark sky, for once void of clouds so you could actually see it along with the stars surrounding it, your lips wrapped around a joint as you traced the constellations you could make out with your pointer finger, one of your eyes closed in concentration.

The door to the balcony opened, and you could hear the hustle and bustle from the party, loud music and shrieks of excitement drifting onto the balcony before they were muted once the door was closed once again, and you could tell who was at the door without even turning to look at him.

Rafe took the joint from your lips, a faint lipstick mark from where your lips had just been, and he brought it to his own lips, taking a slow, deep drag of the joint before taking hold of your chin, making you turn your head to him, your focus strictly on the joint now on his lips.

"It's not polite to steal." You say quietly, a grin spreading onto Rafe's lips as he finishes the joint, before putting it out and leaving it on the ash tray, the lazy grin still on his lips as he looks at you up and down. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing." He shrugged, but you've known him long enough to know that in Rafe's language, 'nothing' meant 'everything.'

"So, did your little girlfriend finally let you off her leash?"

"Sofia? She doesn't have me on a leash. Stop being dramatic."

"Mmhm, sure." You chuckled softly, lifting your brows, a challenging glint in your eyes as you bit down on your lip, Rafe's gaze quickly flicking down to your lips before he cleared his throat and looked away, taking a swig of his beer. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"I dunno. You looked bored. Can't I wanna spend time with you without you getting all interrogate-y? It's annoying as hell." Rafe scoffed, and a part of you enjoyed the fact that you were getting under his skin, a soft chuckle leaving your lips. "What are you laughing at?"

"You're cute when you get mad."

"You're drunk."

"Only a little bit." You grinned, "But not too drunk to not notice the fact that you were looking at my tits earlier."

He nearly choked on his beer from your comment, clearing his throat to try and cover it up, a flush of pink crawling up the back of his neck. "I was just observing. Come on, in that tiny dress you're wearing, can you even blame me?"

"Mmhm." You hum, and Rafe could tell that you didn't believe him, and he's not doing a good job at hiding the fact that he was absolutely not just "observing", and he was now starting to believe that you were more sober than he previously believed, judging by the smartass attitude you were sporting.

"Since when did you get so mouthy?" He said, leaning his back on the wall of the balcony, the beer lazily hanging on his hand as he tried to sound nonchalant and unaffected by the fact that he was basically just openly admiring a large part of your chest for a good few minutes, his eyes still occasionally going to your chest when he couldn't resist the urge to look.

"Since when did you start checking me out?" You lifted your brows, taking a sip out of your solo cup. A part of your brain was telling you that this little game was a bad idea, but another part of you didn't really care.

Rafe gives you a defeated huff in response, setting his beer bottle down and bringing his hand up to rub his face. You'd always been quick-witted, and it was so incredibly unfair. His eyes dart over to you again, his shoulders sagging a bit as he finally gives in. "Okay, fine, I was looking."

"Knew it." You chuckled, and he rolled his eyes, annoyed over how much enjoyment you were getting from the entire situation, his reaction only causing you to laugh even more, causing Rafe to get even more irritated, even though he'd never actually get annoyed with you, it all simply made him think of all the ways he'd love to shut you up.

Finally, he decides that he's had enough of you teasing him and bruising his ego, and so he decides to do the most logical and mature thing that came to his mind, and attempt to get back at you. Rafe lifts his arm up and slides his arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest, a sly grin on his face.

You're surprised by the sudden movement, your eyes widening as you feel your heart start beating faster in your chest, but before you could protest, he has you effectively trapped. His arm is wrapped around you, his hand resting on your hip as you were flush against his chest, his hot breath close to your ear. "Maybe I was looking, what about it?" He says in a low, teasing tone, causing shivers to run down your spine.

"Rafe..." You breathe out quietly, making him smirk as he hears you say his name, the sound of it sending excitement throughout his body. Rafe gives you a gentle squeeze, resting his other hand on your thigh, his fingers idly tracing the exposed skin there as he starts lifting the hem of your dress. "Yes?" He says, feigning innocence, even though it was obvious that he was purposely trying to get a rise out of you.

"Your girlfriend is inside."

"She won't mind..." Rafe mutters, dismissing your concern, his hand still tracing over your thigh, lifting your hem even further. He's well aware that he's being completely inappropriate and disrespectful towards Sofia, but for once, he can't bring himself to care.

"Oh, she definitely would."

He simply rolled his eyes, even though he knows you have a point. He doesn't make a habit of being unfaithful, even if it's something simple like this, but something about you, something about that moment, whether it be your cherry-scented skin, the alcohol, or the weed, something is making him want to go against all of that. "You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

You simply chuckled, shaking your head. "And you, or a part of you, is poking at my ass."

His breath hitched when he heard you say that, now becoming aware of the tent in his pants as you pressed your ass closer to his erection, a groan leaving his lips, shutting his eyes for a second, just trying to keep his cool. "You're like a little devil on my shoulder..." He muttered, his fingers slowly trailing to the inside of your thigh. Rafe couldn't help but be curious over how far you'd let it go, and the fact that you hadn't protested or told him to stop yet was just making him more and more eager to push it, the erection in his pants straining his boxers more and more.

"Your girlfriend is still inside, you know." You said quietly, your breath hitching as you felt his hand slowly traveling towards where you wanted him the most, and a part of you was embarrassed over the fact that he'd soon know just how wet you were already when he hadn't even touched you.

"I'm aware." Rafe mumbled, his hand giving your thigh another firm squeeze, his fingers slowly approaching the edge of your panties. He gives your shoulder a small bite, causing you to gasp and throw your head back, his lips brushing against his ear. "Why haven't you told me to stop, then?"

"Maybe I'm trying to see how long it takes for you to come back to your senses, Rafe..."

He huffs, a small scoff leaving his mouth. He knows you're trying to make him see reason, but the more you're pressed against him, your ass practically on his lap, the more common sense is leaving him. "You're the only person to ever drive me this crazy, you know that?"

"I'm sure your girlfriend wouldn't appreciate hearing that..."

"She definitely wouldn't..." He mumbled, his hand sliding closer to your core, rubbing the skin of your thigh softly as you let out a low breath, enjoying the way his long fingers felt on the skin of your thigh. You're so close, he can smell the vanilla shampoo in your hair, and the cherry-scented perfume you always wear, your scent driving him absolutely insane. "I don't care. I don't care about anything right now, Except you."

Rafe knows he's not making any sense, and he knows you've got some kind of power over him, because he's seriously contemplating just saying to hell with everything else. "You're making a mistake..." You breathe out slowly, but not making a single move to try and get away from him, enjoying the feel of his muscular body around you.

"I know. I know I'm making a mistake. But you're making me crazy, and I can't think straight around you, and I need you."

"You're gonna regret it, Rafe..."

He groans against your skin, his arms wrapping around you tighter, his body acting completely on instinct right now. He knows you're right, he knows he's going to regret this once he comes back to his senses, but he can't bring himself to care right now. He just needs you right now- consequences be damned. His lips and teeth continue to work on the sensitive skin of your neck, marking you with his lips and teeth, wanting so badly to just lift you up and take you in. "I need you..."

"Rafe, where would we even..."

He lets out a low growl, a sting of arousal and lust shooting through his body, his brain struggling to think of a space without anyone around. "Closet, bathroom, somewhere, I don't care, I just need to be in you before I lose my mind."

"Alright, bathroom..."

And before you could even register what was going on, Rafe had roughly pulled you into a bathroom, quickly locking the door behind you, his hands all over your body, groping and gripping at any flesh his hands could find. He pushed you against the sink, lifting you up to sit on it.

"We gotta be quiet... and quick..."

"Don't have to tell me twice..." He muttered, one hand already slipping under the hem of your dress, and when you felt his hand start rubbing circles on your clit through your panties, you let out a whimper, so glad to finally feel some kind of friction, and he chuckled, that familiar grin on his face. "God, you're so soaked I can feel it through your panties... You're more desperate than you seem..."

"Rafe..." You bite down on your lip, watching as he unbuckled his belt, letting his pants fall down to the floor before he pulled you down from the sink, pressing his lips on yours, his hand in your hair as his tongue slips in your mouth, tasting you, his hands gripping your hair desperately while his body pressed against yours in a possessive manner, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands roaming over your curves before he pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your mouths.

He turned you around, his hands gripping your hips as you faced the mirror. "Bend over..." Rafe said in a commanding tone, causing shivers to run down your spine as you bent over the sink, seeing both of you in the mirror, Rafe looking over your body appreciatively as he lifted up the hem of your dress to rest above your ass, his hand traveling down to rest on your ass cheek, cupping it before delivering a sharp smack onto it, causing a squeal to leave your lips as he chuckled, bending to whisper into your ear. "Gotta be quiet, princess."

Rafe pulled back, slowly bringing your panties down your legs before standing back up, pressing so close to you that you could feel his erection through his boxers, one of his hands going down to your pussy, spreading your folds apart in a way that caused you to gasp before ending up on your wetness-covered clit, slowly rubbing circles on it.

You closed your eyes as you bit down on your lip, holding onto the sink, but when Rafe's hand stopped their ministrations, it caused a quiet whine to leave your lips. "Why'd you stop...?"

"I want you to keep your eyes open." He said, and his other hand was now on your chin, making you look at your reflection. "I want you to see how pretty you look when my fingers are pleasuring you... I want you to see how you look when you come on my cock." The idea caused a soft gasp to leave your lips as he delivered a light smack on your pussy "Are you gonna do that for me?"

"Yeah..." You said, and although your eyes were half-lidded, you could see yourself in the mirror, your eye makeup smeared slightly from the wetness in your eyes, your lipstick now almost completely gone. And as you looked at your reflection, you felt Rafe's hand travel down to your pussy once again.

You felt his erection pressing against your ass as he worked your clit with his fingers while you bit down on your lip to stop the moans that were desperate to escape your lips, trying to focus on the faint sound of music you could hear outside the bathroom instead of the way you looked in the mirror, or the way he was turning you into putty in his hands by simply rolling your clit around with his long digits.

"Rafe..."

"Yeah, baby...?" He asked, his fingers picking up their pace as he looked at you in the mirror, pressing hot kisses on the back of your neck, causing shivers to run down your spine.

"I'm close..."

And as those words left your lips, his fingers stopped, causing a disappointed whine to leave your lips as he took a few steps away from you. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because..." He said, releasing himself from his boxers as he stroked his thick, veiny cock with a low groan, preparing himself for you as a drop of precum glimmered under the yellow bathroom light. "I told you I'm gonna make you watch as you come on my cock, didn't I?"

"Yeah..." You sighed, and he got closer to you once again, his large hand coming between your legs, pushing them further apart. His fingers came to your folds, finding your entrance, already slick with your wetness, reminding you of just how close you had been to coming until he stopped you, and he let out a small 'tsk' noise, causing you to purse your lips

He ran his tip over your folds, causing a loud gasp to leave your lips as he positioned the head of his cock at your entrance, every part of your body desperate to have him in you, to feel him fill you. "Say please..." He whispered into your ear huskily, causing a small whine to leave your lips.

"Please..."

And with that, he pushed his entire length into you, not caring how rough it was, causing a loud squeal to leave your lips before he brought his hand to your mouth, covering it. "Gotta be quiet..." He said, his cock still buried inside of you. "You gonna be a good, quiet girl for me, or do you not wanna come?"

You nodded furiously, your eyes stinging with tears, and he pulled his hand away from your mouth at the same time as he pulled himself out of you, before snapping his hips forward, once again filling you as you bit down on your lip, sure you were going to draw blood.

Rafe's grip on your hips was bruising, and he picked up his pace as you desperately tried to keep quiet, one of his hands moving to grab your ass roughly, while his other hand stayed on your hip in a bruising grip, keeping you still. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, Rafe having turned you into nothing but a panting, whimpering mess, so desperate to feel him as he pounded into you. "Do you have any idea what kind of an effect you have on me?" He groaned as he repeatedly hit your cervix, one of your own hands going to cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, feeling yourself falling apart. "You're such a brat, teasing me, then coming apart this easily for me..."

You gripped the sink, steadying yourself as he made you watch as he filled you up, his hand gripping your hair roughly, bringing your head up so you could get a better look at yourself in the mirror, so desperate for him, to feel him inside of you. His entire mind was completely consumed by you, his entire body focused on the way you felt around him, the way your hips snapped against his, the squelching noise that filled the bathroom as he pounded his cock into your sopping wet cunt.

He could feel himself getting closer, the pleasure building inside of him, his body shaking with need as he brought one of his hands to your pussy, his fingers continuing the ministrations he had started on your clit earlier while his other hand gripped onto your hip tightly, digging into your skin, his body moving against yours in a steady, but erratic rhythm. He buried his face against your neck, breathing in the sweet scent of your skin, his mind consumed with nothing but you.

"Fuck, Rafe..." You breathe out, and he moans lowly at the sound of your voice, his voice shaking with pleasure as he pounds into you, the sound of your voice like a fire to his senses as he moved faster and faster, his need for you almost becoming overwhelming.

"Say it again... Say my name..."

"Rafe..."

He groans at the sound of his name from your lips, your voice like a drug to his senses, his fingers working your clit faster, his mind getting hazier. The sounds of your bodies moving together, the sound of your voice, the feel of you in his arms, it's all becoming too much for him to handle. "One more time... say it one more time..."

"Rafe, I'm so close..." You whine, "Please, let me come..."

He gasps at the sound of his name from your lips again, a low moan escaping his mouth as his body trembles with pleasure over the way you were pleading for him to let you come as he buries his face against your neck, his body shaking against yours as he pressed sloppy kisses on the back of your neck. "Come for me, baby... Wanna see you come on my cock..."

As his fingers picked up their pace on your clit, you couldn't help but let out a moan, releasing your bottom lip from between your teeth as you felt yourself come undone, looking at your reflection, your lips trembling as you felt yourself clench around Rafe's cock, your release washing over your entire body, every vein in your body feeling as if they were lit on fire by him.

Rafe let out a low groan from behind you as he looked at the reflection, the sight of you combined with your clenching cunt around him causing him to be sent over the edge, his body trembling as he reached his own orgasm, his release spilling into you as he buried his face against the back of your neck, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

He held you tightly against him, his body shaking from the intensity and his mind consumed with the aftershocks of his release, Rafe muttering soft curses against your skin, his mind a tangled mess of pleasure and confusion.

Your hair was sticking to your face, a sheen of sweat now covering your skin, your makeup smeared, yet you looked so pretty to him, all ruined, a mess he created. When he pulled out of you, you let out a small whine, but before any of his cum could drip out of your pussy, he pulled your panties up, delivering a soft smack to your ass before he covered it with the hem of your dress, pulling up his own boxers along with his pants.

He turned you around to face him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip as his hand cupped your cheek. "Didn't I tell you that you'd look so pretty coming on my cock, huh?"

"You did." You chuckled softly, rolling your eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, brat." Rafe grins at you, biting down on his bottom lip. "Or I'm gonna have to punish you..." his words caused you to shiver as you leaned into his touch until he spoke up again, "I'm gonna go back to the party, and I want you to take a moment to fix your pretty face, and then come out there, where no one knows you're full of my cum... is that clear?"

You looked up at him with wide eyes before nodding. "Y-yeah..."

"Good girl." Rafe said, pressing a soft kiss on your lips, before slowly pulling himself away from you, taking one more appreciative look at your figure before walking out of the bathroom, leaving you there, your head still spinning and your pussy full of his cum.

[mommynott]

Thin Ice

Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Your friends drag you to a hockey game, but halfway through you lock eyes with Theo. You can’t help but feel a strong pull toward him. Deciding to shoot your shot with the player.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, Chars 18+, Hockey AU, flirting, tons of tension, explicit language, hockey!theo, dom!theo

A/N: Starting this series for my babe @amiableness I hope you enjoy it because this is just the start! Also BIG shoutout to my girl @westcanaan82 for the hockey!theo render. Definitely go Check out her page because she makes me DROOOOL

The arena was packed, and the noise was overwhelming as you sat in your seat, begrudgingly dragged there by your friends. You were scrolling through your phone, totally uninterested in the game unfolding before you.

But then… it seemed out of nowhere. A tall and muscular figure on the ice caught your attention. Fuck he’s hot. It was player number 13, Theo, whose piercing eyes were fixed on you through his helmet.

You felt a smirk growing on your lips before he nodded his head up at you and skated along the ice. Shuffling a puck with his hockey stick with ease. The game going on. Fuck maybe this game isn’t too boring. You held your phone in your hand but your gaze settled on him on the ice. Suddenly gaining an interest in this sport.

After he shot a puck into the goal he pumped his fist in the air but you swore he looked over at you. Throwing you a flirty wink. And trust me, he fucking did. At this point, Theodore was trying to show off for you. Hoping he would get your attention. Craving your attention.

The game ended, and his team had won the match. But after all the eyefucking you two did you wanted to stay back in hopes to see that same player. “I’ll catch up with you guys later!” Your friends gave you a knowing look while they walked out. You slowly moved around the now quiet arena.

A few minutes later, you started to feel defeated, thinking he must’ve left but that’s when you heard a low and deep Italian accent. “I noticed you in the crowd…Seemed to be pretty glued to that phone of yours.”

Bright cherry red painted across your cheeks as you turned around. Quickly tucking your phone away in your purse, you gave the hockey player a small sheepish smile. “Uh…Yeah, sorry…It’s just not really my thing I guess.”

But when your gaze settled upon the player, he wasn’t in the same gear from on the ice. Oh no. he was now in a tight under-armor top, showing off his muscular and toned torso along with a pair of black sweatpants. Freshly out of the shower, his brown locks clung to his forehead. The smell of his body wash was rich and intoxicating as it wafted all around you. Fuck me.

“Not your thing, huh? What is your thing then?”

Theo asked, his taunting tone hinting with flirtatiousness. Feeling the way your heart skipped from his words. His deep voice. Fucking hell. You hesitated for a moment, your fingers anxiously playing with the rings you wore. “I don’t know…Reading…Movies.”

Replying to the Italian, he ran a hand through his wavy hair, slicking it back and giving you a charming smile. “A reader. Interesting….” Theodore said in the same teasing tone before sticking out his hand and you matched him, giving your own and shaking it. The second your hands met, a spark pulsated through your body.

“Nott. Theodore Nott. But you can call me Theo, Cara.”

The charming accent rolled off his tongue smoothly as you both exchanged names. You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight to one leg. Bringing your confidence out. Something you always had. “Anyways…What’s interesting about me reading?” You asked, giving him a bratty little grin.

Theo cocked an eyebrow, scoffing under his breath as he took a step before you. Eyeing you up and down fully. “Ah, I’m not sure. Just interesting…What do you like to read?” He questioned as he casually leaned closer toward you.

You tried to focus but his voice, his words were so smooth it sent little shivers down your spine. "Umm… mostly romance— Stuff like that." You mentally chastised yourself for sounding so fucking cliche. He seemed very interested in you…Maybe even so much so that you could get some hockey player action.

Theo gave you a lazy smile and your heart fluttered, feeling the tension building between you both. "Romance, huh? That’s fitting." You raised an eyebrow, confused. What the fuck was he on about? “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, leaning even closer towards you. “You look like the romantic type….Soft…sweet— Y’know?.” Your cheeks burned again. Was he flirting with you? This couldn’t possibly be real. This was something out of the novels you’d read.

“Oh— Thanks I guess?” A sea of giggles freed from your lush lips. The same ones Theo’s eyes were burning into now. He stalked toward you as you walked back until you were pinned against the white brick wall of the ice rink.

He carefully took a strand of your hair, wrapping it around his pointer finger while his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. “Can I get the pretty girl's number, hm?” He asked, remaining not only charming but… cocky. Drawing you to him even more.

It seemed that your confidence exuded his own to creep out. But fuck did you like it. A confident man like this? Damn. “Huh…I’m not sure. Can you?” Teasing him right back you subtly bit your lower lip to fight back the giggles that wanted to escape from within.

“Fuckin’ tease. Isn’t that right?”

Theodore now pinned both of his hands above your head, practically towering over your tiny frame. “Perhaps just a little bit…” Breathing out your words, your gaze danced along with his ocean eyes. Feeling your heart thump hard against your chest.

“I like a tease…A challenge…” His tone now held something of mischief, giving him a different vibe. And fuck, your whole body was fucking feeling it. “Yeah?” You asked, bringing out more of your sultry tone, keeping your lips slightly parted as you glanced down to his own.

That was it. Theo was going to come in hot. Make his move. Smash his lips to yours. But just as he was millimeters away from ravishing you a loud shout was heard. “—Nott! Back in the locker room!” His fucking coach. What a cock block. Theo rolled his eyes and cursed in Italian under his breath.

“We aren’t finished here…” He replied to you lowly, throwing up his pointer finger to his coach. He reached into his pocket. Pulling out a pen and taking your arm. Feeling the tickle of his scribbling, He wrote something on it as you sat there dumbfounded.

Once he was done, you scanned over your forearm. In sloppy handwriting was written his number followed by “Text me, Tesoro ;)” giggling at his little winky face as you nodded your head.

With that, he walked off with his coach to the locker room. That night you got home thinking of everything and anything that could have happened if his damn trainer didn’t interrupt you two. That’s when you decided to send him a flirty yet risky text…

Ahhhh the start of hockey!theo 🏒🥅⛸️

Really hope y’all enjoyed im too excited to continue on with this au! ATP I have so many and STILL have some In the back of my mind help lol

As always asks and requests are open my sweet peas 💋

Divider pinned in my masterlist🌙

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you leave megumi with your husband so you can make them breakfast. you quickly realise that that might have backfired.

wc. around 1.3k

tags. dad!toji x wife!female reader. fluff. reader gets called ‘mama’ by both toji & megumi. half beta read.

“ow, careful there, brat.”

your husband’s deep voice echoes from within the bathroom. you’ve left megumi in his care this morning so you’d be able to make breakfast in peace. toji was all grumpy about it, since he had to wake up early when he had no work, but eventually agreed to your proposal.

you hum your favorite song while frying eggs. the sizzling in the pan did help avert your attention from toji’s grunts of annoyance somewhere in the distance, though only for a couple seconds. your hear your child’s laughter slip between the noises of aggravation. it piques your interest.

“one more time and i’m putting y’r ass in time out,” toji’s deep voice sounds muffled. he sounds rather serious about whatever is bothering him.

you turn the stove off and walk towards the hallway, standing at the doorframe as you look in the direction of the bathroom. you tilt your head and try your best to pick up on snippets of the conversation between your husband and son.

the sound of bottles dropping on the floor is the first thing that allows you to guess that megumi’s acting up. you know how mischievous your little toddler can get, especially at his age. toji isn’t one to gentle parent his kid—he tries to, of course, but sometimes he can’t help but be a bit rough.

“megumi fushiguro.”

you raise your eyebrows as toji uses your child’s full name. he rarely does, only when he’s really upset or about to lose his marbles. you decide to see what was going on for yourself. you walk towards the bathroom, cleaning your hands against the material of your apron. you knock once before pushing the door open.

you stick your head through the little gap, ready to identify the cause of the commotion. the first thing you notice is the chaos on the floor; bottles, tubes, toothbrushes, and all other kinds of products lay cluttered on the bathroom tiles.

your eyes then land on your husband’s broad and scarred back, “hey, honey. did something hap—”

your voice trails off once toji turns around, revealing the jaw dropping scene. nearly his entire face is covered in loads of shaving cream and even his black hair hasn’t escaped the soft foam.

the bathroom counter is completely wet, and the water runs down the edges in small drops. the culprit of this entire scene is sitting right on that same counter, clapping his dirty hands together that were smeared with toji’s shaving cream.

you blink and walk towards the two. you can’t possibly be mad at the sight, finding toji’s situation more funny than worrisome. You try to act serious and clear your throat, “uh, yeah. so what’s happened here?”

your husband rolls his eyes and nods his head at the little boy in front of him, who’s giggling and kicking his legs. toji tries to wipe the shaving cream from his nose, attempting to get it out of his hair as well, “i tried to be a good dad and include him in my morning routine, that’s what.”

the man clicks his tongue as he now realises how dumb of a mistake that was, “gave him the opportunity to put some shaving foam on my jaw ‘n the brat totally blew it. started attackin’ me with the stuff.”

toji grumbles. he wipes away the foam that got on the mirror afterwards. it’s nearly gotten everywhere. he lightly nudges megumi’s forehead with a scoff, “never again, y’hear? the little shit can’t sit still for even one second.”

that explains the stuff on the floor. you know that megumi could grow bored easily if he isn’t the centre of attention. he’d start doing anything to be the focus of his parents. toji probably didn’t pay him much mind, wanting to get his morning routine over with.

“language, honey.” you sigh and look down at megumi who’s still reaching his messy hands up to his dad.

toji huffs and leans back, not giving the little boy a chance to put more shaving cream on his face. he’s learnt his lesson; kids do not understand it when you tell them to ‘only put a little bit’.

megumi whines and threatens to throw a tantrum. you notice that immediately and try to keep his mind off things by picking him up. you turn on the faucet and try to wash his little hands, “c’mon. give mama your hands.”

the little boy shakes his head furiously, squirming in your embrace in attempt to get away. you sigh and grab his little wrists gently. you lower him to the sink, trying your best to wash away the shaving cream as the first step of solving this grande mess.

“no, mama!” megumi is stubborn as he voices his complains. toji watches from a distance whilst he struggles to clean the overload of shaving cream from his face.

you make the mistake of letting go of your child’s wrists to grab a washcloth. megumi takes his chance and pats his messy hands against your face, leaving you no space to process what he’s doing.

your mind takes a second before you realise what’s happening, “hey! quit it, ‘gumi.”

you try to grab ahold of megumi’s tiny hands again, but they move too fast for you. plus, he’s pretty skilled at avoiding yours. you can feel the foam slowly cover your entire face; from your jaw and cheeks, to your nose and forehead.

it was inevitable at this point.

“toji, do something,” you grunt and struggle to contain the energetic toddler in your arms. you take a peek at your husband and find him grinning at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

toji simply shrugs and enjoys the fact that you’re experiencing exactly what he had experienced just moments ago. seeing you struggle to contain your disobedient child only proves that his parenting skills are not the problem in this situation, your toddler is.

“ye did that to y’rself, mama.” toji hums in amusement. he leans against the wall, the blue towel now loosely hanging off head after he’s given up on getting the foam out of his hair, “now y’know what i’m talkin’ about. he’s a lil’ monster.”

megumi squeals in victory after he’s gotten both his parents covered in shaving cream. you want to say something to your child, but you’re at a loss for words. even now, you cannot bring yourself to be mad at him. he’s just a kid who’s having fun with his parents.

“i made mama pretty! hehe.” megumi grins and encourages you to look in the mirror. he points at your reflection and awaits the words of confirmation. his blue eyes look up at you, nearly sparkling with joy, admiring how pretty he’s made you look with that white foam all over your face.

toji joins in on the fun. he comes to stand behind you, looking at you through the mirror. he snickers, already forgotten about his irritations that occurred in the first place. he nods in approval at megumi’s words, “gotta agree, son. y’r mama looks much prettier like this.”

your husband’s teasing comment adds fuel to the fire. though again, you cannot bring yourself to be upset at the situation.

you look at the reflection in the dirty mirror. you all may appear disheveled due to the foamy mess on your bodies—and yet even at that moment—the only thing you actually manage to see is a happy family of three.

[leejenowrld]

after all this time?

word count — 8.2k

genre — smut, fluff 

synopsis — you run into jeno, your ex, at a college party. despite a tough breakup, the spark between you never faded. after a night of reconnecting and reigniting, you realize some feelings are too deep to ever truly go away.

warnings — explicit sexual content, explicit language and swearing, sexual themes, intense emotional scenes, reconciliations and reunions, don’t expect unnecessary and forced angst, this is a story of two emotionally mature and intelligent lovers, communication communication!!,  oral sex, unprotected sex (stay safe!!), intense smut scenes with themes of dominance and submission, scenes depicting emotional vulnerability and deep angst, themes of unhealed emotional wounds and confrontations, mentions of past relationship trauma and heartbreak, hea!! 

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly.

──────────────────────────────

The muffled thump of music grew louder as you and Yeji approached the house, the bass reverberating through the cool night air. It was your first night on campus, and the idea of starting over had already filled you with enough nervous energy to last a lifetime. Transferring halfway through your academic course wasn’t something you’d planned, but circumstances had changed, and now, so had you. 

Your arms were interlocked with Yeji’s, her presence steady and reassuring. You shot her a thankful smile, feeling a rush of gratitude wash over you. You hadn’t expected to make friends so quickly, especially on your first day, but Yeji had greeted you with a warmth that immediately put you at ease. Her bright, welcoming smile and easygoing attitude made the transition less daunting, and now, with her by your side, you felt like maybe—just maybe—things would be okay.

As you glanced around, the neighborhood was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, the shadows of swaying trees flickering against the sidewalks. The crispness of the autumn night lingered in the air, a reminder that you were stepping into a new chapter of your life. A party wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined spending your first night, but Yeji had insisted. 

“You’ll get to know people this way,” she’d said, her voice light and encouraging. And now, despite your doubts, here you were, standing outside a house that seemed to pulse with life from within.

The house itself was large, the kind of place that screamed "party central" the moment you laid eyes on it. Soft, colorful lights spilled from the windows, casting a warm, inviting glow across the front yard. You could see silhouettes moving behind the windows, the faint murmur of laughter and conversation blending with the steady beat of the music. It looked like one of those classic college parties you’d only seen in movies—people standing in clusters, drinks in hand, and a general air of excitement buzzing through the night.

You adjusted the strap of your dress nervously, feeling the weight of the newness pressing down on your shoulders. A party had never really been your scene, especially not on the first night in an unfamiliar place, but something about this moment felt different. You weren’t the same person who avoided stepping out of her comfort zone. You were here now, and you wanted to make the most of it.

“Ready?” Yeji’s voice broke through your thoughts, her eyes shining with anticipation as she glanced over at you. Her energy was infectious, and you found yourself nodding, despite the tight knot of anxiety still sitting in your chest.

You took a deep breath, letting the sounds of the night fill your senses—the distant hum of cars passing, the rustle of leaves in the wind, the faint echo of laughter from the house. It was all part of this new world you were stepping into, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the stirrings of excitement mingling with your nerves.

“Let’s do this,” you said, your voice more confident than you felt.

As the two of you made your way toward the front door, you could feel the energy of the party radiating outward. The door opened, and a wave of warmth hit you, both from the inside heat and the buzz of life within. The soft glow of string lights hanging from the ceiling gave the place a laid-back, cozy atmosphere, contrasting with the thrumming music that vibrated through the walls.

Inside, the house was packed. People filled every available space—some lounging on couches, drinks in hand, others gathered in small groups, laughing and talking. The smell of something sweet and a little smoky hung in the air, and the chatter mixed with the pulse of the music, creating a kind of chaotic harmony. You scanned the room, taking it all in—the casual, carefree smiles of people you didn’t know yet, the flash of colorful cups clinking together, and the low, heady buzz of excitement that seemed to swirl through the crowd.

Yeji led you through the throng, her hand still hooked around your arm as she navigated the party with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times before. She moved with confidence, offering smiles and waves to people she knew as she guided you through the maze of bodies, all the while keeping a reassuring presence by your side.

You couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, like you were watching everything unfold from the outside. The laughter, the easy conversations, the way people moved around each other like they belonged—it all felt like a world you hadn’t quite stepped into yet. But being here, surrounded by this energy, made you want to dive in, to be part of it.

“This is it,” Yeji said, smiling as she pulled you to a stop near the kitchen, where a makeshift bar had been set up. Bottles of every kind of alcohol lined the counters, and a few people were mixing drinks with practiced ease. “What do you think?”

You glanced around, feeling the pulse of the party in your bones, the music reverberating through the floor beneath your feet. “It’s… a lot,” you admitted with a laugh, feeling the tension in your chest start to loosen just a little. “But it’s good.”

Yeji grinned, squeezing your arm. “That’s the spirit. Let’s grab a drink and have some fun.”

You nodded, taking another deep breath as you let yourself be pulled into the flow of the night. The unfamiliar faces, the hum of excitement, the newness of it all—it didn’t feel quite as overwhelming anymore. You were here, in this moment, and maybe, just maybe, it was exactly where you were meant to be.

“Who’s house party is this?” you ask, glancing around. The question lingers in the air for a moment as Yeji opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, you bump headfirst into someone’s chest, your momentum nearly knocking his drink out of his hand.

You stumble slightly, your hands flying up in reflex to steady yourself. His chest is firm—hard, even—and your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you take a step back, wide-eyed. You open your mouth to apologize, but the words get stuck in your throat when you look up.

At first, his expression is one of annoyance, his brow furrowed as he glances down at you. But then his eyes meet yours, and everything shifts. His features soften, and time seems to slow down, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two of you stare at each other, frozen in place. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in every detail, and you can see the moment recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Jeno,” you breathe, the name slipping from your lips effortlessly, almost as if your body had been waiting for this moment. You blink, half-convinced that this is some sort of dream—because how could it be real? How could he be here, after all this time?

Yeji starts to speak again, her voice cutting through the haze of disbelief. “Yeah, it’s his party—” She trails off when she notices the way you and Jeno are looking at each other, the sexual energy that seems to hang in the air between you two. It’s like the entire room has disappeared, and suddenly, it’s just the two of you standing there, unmoving, locked in a silent conversation only you can understand.

People around you begin to grumble, nudging and pushing past as you both stand still, blocking the hallway. Someone mutters something about moving, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All that matters is the person standing in front of you, the one you hadn’t expected to see, let alone here, in this place.

“Y/N.” His voice is deeper now, more grounded, and the sound of your name on his lips sends a shiver down your spine. It’s familiar, yet distant—like hearing a song you used to love, but haven’t listened to in years.

You swallow hard, taking him in, trying to make sense of how much he’s changed. The teenage boy you once knew has grown into a man, his features sharper, more mature. His jawline is strong and defined, the once soft angles of his face now chiseled. His hair, slightly tousled in a way that looks effortlessly perfect, falls into his eyes, which are darker and more intense than you remember. There’s a confidence in the way he holds himself now, his broad shoulders filling out the leather jacket that clings to him like a second skin. He’s beautiful, in the way that takes your breath away, but there’s something different about him too—something distant.

You can’t help but smile at him, though your heart hammers in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Joy, disbelief, and something deeper—something painful. But that smile falters when you see the way he returns it: tight-lipped, almost forced. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and the realization stings, sending a pang of guilt through your chest.

You frown, the weight of your last interaction with him crashing down on you. All those years ago—the tears, the screaming, the painful goodbye. You can still feel the heartbreak in your bones, the ache that never fully went away. It’s all rushing back to you now, as if no time has passed at all.

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he can see straight through you. Every memory, every feeling, every regret. You gulp, your heart heavy with the confusion of seeing him here, after all these years, in a place where you’d least expect to run into him.

You’re overthinking—your mind spiraling through everything that went wrong, how things ended between you two. The guilt gnaws at you, but at the same time, there’s a flicker of something else. A warmth, a quiet happiness in your chest that he’s here. Out of all the people, out of all the chances, it’s him. It’s confusing, overwhelming, and it makes your head spin.

Love was never simple. And seeing Jeno again, after all this time, only reminds you of how complicated it can really be.

“Come here,” Jeno says softly, his voice a gentle command that cuts through the haze of noise around you. His eyes search yours with an intensity that sends a warmth rushing through your chest, and when he notices the flicker of uncertainty in your expression, his gaze softens. He always did think your smile was the prettiest, and now he just wants to see it again.

You hesitate for only a second before moving toward him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you step into his embrace. Your heart races, your body thrumming with nervous energy, but being in his arms feels like a release—like slipping into something warm and familiar. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, his grip firm but gentle, as though he’s afraid to let go. The feel of him against you is intoxicating—solid, warm, his body radiating a heat that makes your skin tingle. The scent of him, that blend of fresh soap and something uniquely Jeno, envelops you, making you feel safe, grounded.

Your arms slide up around his shoulders, pulling him closer, your fingertips grazing the back of his neck. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You bury your face in his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the soft thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It’s as if time has slowed down, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the party, the noise, the crowd. It’s just you and him, wrapped in this moment, in each other.

But all too soon, he pulls back, and the loss of his warmth hits you like a cold wind. You blink up at him, confused, your heart still pounding in your chest. And that’s when you notice it—the stares, the whispers. People around you are watching, their eyes filled with curiosity, judgment, and something darker that makes your skin crawl. It’s only now, without Jeno shielding you, that you feel exposed, vulnerable, as if the entire room is dissecting the moment you just shared.

You gulp, trying to shake off the unease, but it lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind. Why were they all staring? Why were there whispers? What had you done to deserve those mean eyes?

Before you can spiral further, Jeno’s hand reaches for your face, his fingers gently tilting your chin upward until your eyes meet his. The world seems to still again under the weight of his gaze. His eyes are soft, filled with understanding, and without a word, he tells you everything you need to know—focus on me, not them.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low, sultry, yet threaded with that same kindness and softness you remember so well. His arms find their way back around your waist, pulling you close once more. The feel of him pressed against you again sends a wave of calm through your body, making you forget about all the eyes still watching.

You clear your throat, trying to gather your thoughts. “Oh, I made a new friend, and she brought me to this party. She kinda dragged me along, she’s over there—” you ramble, gesturing vaguely in Yeji’s direction.

“I meant… what are you doing here? In Seoul?” he cuts you off, his gaze steady as he searches your face for the real answer.

“Oh—” you stammer, blinking in surprise. “I transferred to this campus today.”

Jeno’s lips quirk into a small smile. “I’m a student here too.”

You nod, the realization slowly sinking in. “Did you end up doing engineering?” you ask, your voice soft, almost tentative. You fight the urge to reach up and run your fingers through his hair—it was always so soft, so tempting.

He nods, holding back a grin. “Yeah. And you?”

“Journalism,” you reply, your words barely above a whisper, your gaze never leaving his.

“I knew it,” he says, his smile widening as if he’s always known that was your path.

The air between you hums with something unspoken, something simmering just beneath the surface. You suddenly become aware that his arms are still around your waist, holding you close, and the weight of his touch makes your pulse quicken. His body is pressed against yours, so close that you can feel the heat of him radiating through your clothes. Without hesitation, you slide your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

Jeno hums softly, the sound vibrating through his chest as he looks down at you. His eyes are darker now, filled with something you can’t quite place. His hands move slowly, trailing up and down your spine, the light touch sending shivers across your skin. He never lets his hands go lower, even though part of you wishes he would.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice low and intimate, his gaze never wavering from yours. The words hang in the air between you, thick with meaning, and you can feel your heart stutter in response.

Your breath falters as you chew on your bottom lip nervously. The weight of the moment settles deep in your chest as your eyes meet his. There’s something vulnerable in the way he’s looking at you, a softness that pulls you in, and you realize that those eyes—those same eyes you fell in love with so long ago—haven’t changed. He’s still there, the boy you knew, the boy who made you feel like you were the center of his world. It’s as if time hasn’t touched the way he sees you, hasn’t altered the tenderness that’s always been there, even when everything else shifted.

“Really?” you manage to whisper, the word barely audible, as if you need confirmation, as if the sincerity in his eyes isn’t already enough.

Jeno’s expression softens, though the seriousness in his eyes never fades. “You’ve only gotten prettier over the years,” he says, his thumb gently brushing the side of your face, his touch so light, yet it carries so much. The way he’s looking at you, with such tenderness and honesty, makes your chest tighten. He’s not just complimenting your looks; he’s seeing you—every part of you, the girl you were and the woman you’ve become, all wrapped into one.

“I mean it,” he continues softly, his voice like a warm breeze against your skin. “You look hot.”

You don’t trust your voice to respond, so you just smile up at him, the warmth of his words seeping into your skin, making you feel seen, understood, and undeniably desired.

You swallow, the heat between you nearly overwhelming, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip from your lips. “Do you wanna go somewhere more private?” Your voice is a little shaky, but the meaning is clear. “We have a lot to catch up on, and this party is kinda dead, anyway.”

Jeno’s eyes widen slightly, and then he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “This is my party,” he reminds you, his lips quirking into a teasing smile.

“Oh,” you mumble, feeling a little sheepish. “Right…”

You feel your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you mumble, “Well, you haven’t been partying.”

He shakes his head with a soft laugh, then leans down, his voice barely a whisper. “Come with me.”

He pulls back just enough to slip his hand into yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you. The second his arms leave your waist, you feel the absence of his presence, but then his hand squeezes yours, and he gently pulls you through the crowd, guiding you with purpose. The whispers and stares fade into the background as you follow him, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Jeno leads you down a hallway, away from the thrum of the party, and finally into his room. It’s a simple space, neat but lived-in. A TV is mounted  against the wall next to a desk cluttered with papers and books, and his bed is neatly made, the navy blue sheets crisp against the low lighting. The room smells faintly of him—clean, comforting, with a hint of something warm and masculine. He lets you step in first, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you’re on him, and he’s on you—there’s no hesitation, no space left between you. Your lips collide with his in a heated, desperate kiss, as if neither of you can wait a second longer. His hands are all over you, gripping your waist with a hunger that makes your knees weak, pulling you so close you can barely breathe, not that you care.

You can feel his need, the urgency in the way his fingers dig into your skin, in the way his lips devour yours like he’s been starving for this moment. Your hands are tangled in his shirt, yanking him closer, matching his intensity. Tongues meet in a fevered rhythm, gasps escaping between kisses, the room thick with the heat building between you.

Without thinking, you jump into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he steadies you with a low grunt, his strength evident in the way he holds you so effortlessly. He fumbles for the light switch, turning it off, and the room is instantly bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candles—ones he had lit earlier. The dim light casts shadows across the room, making the moment feel even more intimate, more romantic.

With one hand, he locks the door behind you then with a gentleness that contrasts with the fire burning between you, he carries you over to the bed, lowering you carefully onto the soft sheets. His gaze never leaves yours, full of so much longing and adoration it makes your breath catch. For a moment, he just stares down at you, as though memorizing every detail, every inch of you.

Then he’s on you again, pulling you into his lap, his hands roaming your back as your lips crash together once more. This time it’s even more desperate, the tension between you palpable as soft moans escape both your lips, mingling in the heated air. His hands move up your spine, gently tugging at your clothes, and you respond in kind, your fingers working to undo his shirt, your skin buzzing with anticipation.

You grind down against him, feeling how hard he already is beneath you, and he groans, his grip tightening on your waist. The heat between you is overwhelming, the connection almost too much to bear, but in the back of your mind, something lingers—something you need to say.

You pull back, your lips parting from his with a soft gasp, and he groans again, clearly frustrated by the sudden distance. His brow furrows as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, his desire for you unmistakable. “We can have sex after…” you whisper, your voice soft but insistent as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, hoping he understands. “I just want to talk to you now.”

He exhales, the tension in his body easing slightly as he nods, offering you a patient, if slightly strained, smile. He hums softly, his hand still resting gently on your waist, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he nods, silently encouraging you to go ahead and speak.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, the words barely above a whisper, but the heaviness of them palpable in the quiet room.

He watches you closely, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression soft but serious. The warmth of his body next to yours is comforting, yet the guilt gnaws at you from the inside out.

“I’m sorry for leaving the way I did... leaving us the way I did,” you continue, your voice catching. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jeno. I know it’s too many years too late, but please believe me when I say I wish I could go back. I wish I could’ve stayed with you all these years. I’d go back, and I’d choose you—every single time.”

You try to hold it together, but when you see a single tear escape from his eye, your own walls crumble. The tears spill over, unbidden and uncontrollable. Your hands tremble as you reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing away the tear that trails down his cheek.

“I love you so much,” you choke out. “I always have, and I always will. I’ve never stopped loving you, Jeno. The biggest mistake of my life was leaving you, and that will always haunt me. I’ll always regret it. I’ll always hate myself for what I did to us, to you.”

His lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something, but you continue, needing to let it all out, needing him to understand.

“I didn’t want to leave you. It was the hardest decision of my life and one I wish I never made. Japan wasn’t worth it... I hated every second. I missed you every single day. I didn’t even realize how much I missed you, how much I needed you, until today.”

The vulnerability of your words hangs in the air between you, raw and exposed. The years of separation suddenly feel like nothing as you bare your soul to him. Jeno had always been the one you could unravel yourself for, the one who knew every emotion, every thought, even when you tried to hide it. It was strange to realize that after all this time—after all the changes life had thrown at you—your feelings for him were unchanged, as deep and intense as ever.

He sends you a tight-lipped smile, one of understanding, and gently wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb before leaning in and kissing your forehead softly, the tenderness of the gesture almost breaking you all over again.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice low and calm. “You don’t need to apologize to me. At the time, I was hurt, but I knew you had your reasons. We were so young. I never held anything against you all these years. I’ve always been proud of you. No one deserved that opportunity in Japan more than you. I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you wanted. But Y/N, it’s been so long, I don’t feel the same pain as I did when you left. I accept your apology though.”

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, a heavy weight lifting from your chest, though the tears still threaten to spill over. “You were always so understanding and supportive,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion.

He smiles, that familiar, kind smile that always made you feel safe. “It’s not hard to be when it’s you.”

You exhale shakily, still reeling from the intensity of the moment. “I’ve been imagining this for years, you know. Finding my way back to you, having this conversation, figuring out what I’d say to make things right. I’ve never forgotten you, Jeno. Not once. I didn’t think I’d see you tonight... but it feels good, it feels like nothing changed, even though I know everything has.”

His eyes soften as he listens, his hand still resting on your cheek, grounding you in the moment. But there’s a question hanging in the air, one that you know he has to ask.

“Why didn’t you contact me again?” he finally says, his voice gentle, not accusatory, but filled with genuine curiosity. “You had me blocked on everything. I tried to reach out, but I couldn’t.”

You lower your gaze, shame creeping up on you, and you bite your lip. “I didn’t have you blocked at first,” you admit quietly. “But after how I left things, after that massive fight we had... I didn’t think I deserved to be in your life anymore. I felt so guilty, Jeno. I didn’t think I deserved you, so I blocked you to stop myself from calling, from telling you how much I regretted it.”

He nods slowly, processing your words. “So why now? Why did you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Time has gone on, and a lot has changed. I’ve grown up, and I’m not losing you again.”

A slow grin spreads across his face, softening the lines of tension that had been there moments before. “So you always imagined coming back to me?” he repeats, echoing your earlier words with a teasing glint in his eyes.

You smile through the tears that still linger in your eyes. “I always knew I’d find my way back to you.”

Jeno's grin widens, and without warning his lips capture yours again, but this time there’s a deliberate, slower intensity behind the kiss. His hands glide up to cradle your face, fingers strong yet gentle, as he guides you back onto the bed. His weight presses softly against you, but his touch remains light, controlled, like he’s savoring every second.

He leans down, his lips tracing a path over your skin, brushing across your forehead, your cheekbones, down to your jaw. Each kiss is unhurried, but there’s a quiet hunger in the way his lips linger, in the way his breath comes hot against your skin. He knows how to take his time, but there’s an underlying sense of control, a restraint that makes every touch more electric.

His hands move lower, fingertips grazing over your hips, sending shivers through you. His lips follow, trailing from your neck, down over your collarbone. His touch is confident, exploring your body with a slow, deliberate pace, like he’s memorizing every inch. There’s a heat between you, building with each press of his lips, each pass of his hand, as he continues his slow descent.

He gazes at you with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine, his eyes dark and filled with desire. Gently, he guides you onto the soft sheets, his hands never leaving your body. As he kneels between your thighs, his fingertips trail lightly along your skin, igniting sparks wherever he touches. The anticipation builds as he lowers himself, his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive areas.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, his voice husky. He places tender kisses along your inner thighs, each one drawing a soft gasp from your lips. His eyes flick up to meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing within them before he continues his journey.

When his mouth finally reaches your core, he starts with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips soft against you. A sigh escapes you, and your fingers instinctively weave into his hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers as you hold him close. He smiles against you, clearly enjoying the way you respond to his touch.

He begins to explore with his tongue, starting with slow, deliberate strokes that make your breath hitch. He licks a teasing line from bottom to top, savoring every moment. The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. He nips lightly, his teeth grazing just enough to add an edge to the softness, then soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Jeno,” you moan softly, your voice trembling. He responds by gripping your hips firmly, pulling you closer to his eager mouth. His movements become more passionate, his tongue circling and flicking in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. The heat between you intensifies, every nerve ending alive under his attentive care.

He sucks gently at first, creating a delicious pressure that builds with each passing second. Then he increases the intensity, drawing you deeper into a haze of sensation. The wet warmth of his mouth contrasts with the cool air of the room, heightening your awareness of every movement.

Your back arches off the bed as you feel yourself losing control. You tug at his hair, a silent plea for more, and he groans appreciatively, the sound vibrating against you and adding another layer of pleasure. His name falls from your lips like a mantra, each syllable filled with need.

He adjusts his approach based on the shifts in your breathing, the tilts of your hips guiding him. One hand remains firmly on your lower abdomen, pressing just enough to enhance the sensations rippling through you while he releases his other hand from your hip to entwine his fingers with yours, his grip is reassuring yet possessive. Holding your gaze, he spits softly, the unexpected act intensifying the slickness and sending a thrill through you. “You taste so good,” he whispers against you before diving back in with renewed fervor.

His tongue moves expertly, finding the perfect rhythm and pressure to push you toward the edge. The combination of his mouth and the subtle squeeze of his hand around yours creates a connection that feels both electric and intimate. The sounds filling the room—the soft slurping, his occasional groans, your escalating moans—blend into a symphony of raw desire.

The tension within you coils tighter, a wave of heat building low in your belly. “Please… don’t stop,” you whisper, barely able to form the words. He answers by doubling his efforts, his tongue moving faster, more deliberately. He nips and sucks with just the right amount of pressure, his movements confident and unrelenting.

Your thighs tremble around him, and your grip on his hair tightens. The world narrows to the point where only this moment exists—the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his breath, the intense gaze that holds you captive.

With one final, perfectly placed stroke, the wave crests. Pleasure crashes over you in powerful surges, your body shuddering as you cry out his name. He doesn’t let up, guiding you through the climax with gentle licks and kisses, prolonging the bliss until you’re left utterly spent.

As you sink back into the softness of the pillows, your breathing is heavy, your body still trembling from the waves of pleasure. Jeno doesn’t pause; he continues his gentle ministrations, planting soft, deliberate kisses up your inner thigh. Each kiss sends a shiver up your spine, a lingering promise of more to come. When he finally meets your lips, the kiss is deep and deliberate, letting you taste your own arousal on him, mingling it with his desire.

A soft whine escapes you as you feel the hard press of his erection against you. It’s not just the contact but the intent behind it that makes your heart race—a palpable reminder of your shared hunger. You reach down, your fingers encircling his length, and the contact pulls a guttural moan from deep within you. He’s slick with anticipation, his size as formidable as ever. As your hand glides along him, you’re reminded of the first times—those initial encounters where his size was an exhilarating challenge. The memory of how he filled you completely, stretching you deliciously, flashes through your mind. Even the way he felt in your mouth, substantial and overwhelming, rushes back, tinting your cheeks with desire.

Jeno’s eyes darken with desire, locked onto your movements. His breath hitches as you explore, recalling the precise ways to stoke his arousal. As your hand moves, he suddenly grips it gently, stopping your motions. “Don’t baby, I won’t last,” he murmurs with a strained moan, his voice thick with lust. This interruption, laden with urgent need, sends a thrill through you, underscoring the intensity of the moment and the deep, carnal connection that continues to draw you irresistibly together.

He groans softly, his breath warm against your ear. “Do you have a condom?” Jeno asks, his voice tinged with a mix of urgency and desire.

You shake your head, feeling a flutter of nerves and longing swirling in your stomach. The dim light casts a soft glow over his familiar features, highlighting the depth in his eyes. “Jeno… I’m literally a virgin,” you whisper, your cheeks flushing slightly.

His brows raise, a playful disbelief dancing across his face. “No, you’re not.”

You stay silent and pout your lips, which only makes his disbelief grow. “Remember how we used to fuck every day for three months long? I know I was loving you well, but I didn’t realize it would give you memory loss.”

“Hmmm, I don’t recall,” you tease, feigning thoughtfulness.

“You don’t remember me taking your virginity? You don’t remember the way I used to touch you? Make love to you? You don’t remember me being inside of you? You don’t remember screaming my name all night long?”

You blush softly, running your fingers through his tousled hair, the silky strands slipping between your fingers. The familiar gesture brings a rush of memories—stolen glances, shared laughter, the way his touch used to set your skin on fire. “Of course I do.” You finally stop playing dumb. “But you were the last person I had sex with,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a long time for me, so I don’t just carry around condoms.”

His eyes widen and he stays silent for a small moment, his facial features registering realization. “What? Really?”

You chuckle, shying away from him and averting your eyes as your honesty makes you feel too vulnerable. The eye contact feels too intense now. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you… I should’ve lied but I was never good at lying to you. I knew you’d make fun of me,” you pout, your voice a mix of humor and embarrassment.

He shakes his head and coos at your words, his eyes full of love and affection as he calls your name in the most soft and delicate voice, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes lock on yours with sincerity and love. “I promise you I’m not making fun of you, baby, I’m just surprised, because the last time we had sex was five years ago,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hip. “I know we used to have a lot of sex but that’s a long time.”

“It’s been six years,” you correct him softly. “I’ve not even wanted to fuck anyone else, I was never able to get over you even if I tried to move on.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes widening as realization dawns. “Wait, seriously?” His gaze softens, a mixture of surprise and something deeper reflecting in his eyes. “It’s only ever been me?”

You nod, a hint of vulnerability beneath your steady gaze. “Yes,” you admit quietly. “It’s always been you.”

A slow, affectionate smile spreads across his face. “Well, that’s good to know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your cheek. “Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“There was a while where I tried to force myself to forget about you and be with other guys, but I’d always back out last minute. It was too difficult for me to pretend I wanted another man who wasn’t you inside of me. Sex is a big thing for me; it’s about emotional intimacy, connection, trust, and love… You’re the only one who can make me want it,” you confess.

He grins, kissing your cheek and whispering, making you giggle at his soft and gentle words. “You’re so fucking cute,” he coos.

You hum as he cups your face and you lean your head against his palm. You both share giddy smiles and giggle as he continues, “If anything, the fact you’ve not wanted anyone else makes me even crazier for you. Stop trying to make me love you more.”

Caught in the midst of this emotional revelation, the reality that you’re both still naked strikes you, and the feel of his hardness cock pressing and twitching insistently against you sends a rush of heat through your body. “Jeno… now stop talking and fuck me hard.”

He shakes his head, a playful chuckle escaping him. “You’re the one who needs to stop talking… You don’t think I’ve forgotten about those times when I was cock and balls deep inside you and you’d yap about everything. I was always amazed how, even completely fucked out, you’d still fill me in about your day, the latest TV show you watched, or the book you read.”

You giggle, a spark of old love flickering in your eyes. “Yeah, get used to that again.”

He rolls his eyes but you see the same love reflecting deep in his gaze. He kisses your lips tenderly. “I love you,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your lips as desire overcomes him. His next words are hopeful, tinged with urgency. “We don’t have any condoms… are you on the pill?”

You shake your head slowly, the mix of frustration and longing intensifying as the heat between you becomes nearly unbearable. Every inch of your skin tingles with anticipation. “But it doesn’t matter. I want you,” you whisper fervently, your voice barely more than a breath. “I want you to come inside me. Just fuck me, please.”

His eyes widen slightly, a storm of emotions flickering across his face—desire, hesitation, and something deeper. “Y/N… are you sure?” he asks, his tone serious as he cups your face gently in his hands.

His thumbs brush lightly over your cheeks, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“Yes.” You respond without a second thought.

He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Alright,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I need you too.”

As he enters you, it's as if the world narrows to just the two of you, every sensation amplified. The initial stretch is intense—a blend of sharp pleasure and a fleeting ache that steals your breath. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you adjust to him, the fullness both overwhelming and profoundly intimate. Tears well up in your eyes, not from pain, but from the cascade of emotions flooding through you. You never anticipated that this night would lead you here, wrapped in the arms of the man you've always loved. It feels right, destined—as if every moment in your lives had been guiding you back to this point.

"You're so tight," he whispers, his voice strained with a mix of restraint and desire. He moves slowly, each deliberate thrust gentle, allowing you time to acclimate to the depth of connection between you. His eyes never leave yours, filled with concern and an affection that makes your heart swell.

You blink up at him through blurred vision, feeling both vulnerable and cherished under his gaze. "So you forgive me? Do you still love me?" you ask softly, your voice tinged with hope and uncertainty.

His lips brush tenderly across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that have escaped. Each touch ignites a warm spark beneath your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I never stopped loving you," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm that eases the lingering doubts in your heart. The sincerity in his eyes reflects the depth of his feelings, making the moment all the more poignant.

As his movements begin to find a steady rhythm, the heat between you intensifies. The slow, sensual glide of his body against yours builds a mounting tension, each motion drawing you deeper into a shared world where only the two of you exist. Your fingers intertwine above your head, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he's anchoring himself to you. The intimacy of the gesture sends a flutter through your chest, solidifying the unspoken promises hanging in the air.

"Wait," you breathe out between soft gasps, “Can we go to mine? The bed isn't as big but I want to show you some things.” 

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating pleasantly against your skin. "Baby... I'm literally inside of you right now," he teases, disbelief and amusement mingling in his expression.

A laugh bubbles up from your lips, mingling with the quiet moans filling the room. "I know you are! I just meant after." you exclaim, a smile spreading across your face as a blush warms your cheeks.

“Wowww, I haven’t even finished fucking you in my bed and you’re already wanting me to fuck you in yours? So impatient, baby…” he tuts playfully, a teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

You pout, a playful glint in your eyes. “I just want to show you my room and the cute dresses and skirts I got.”

He coos softly, leaning in to press his lips against yours, the kiss warm and tender. He promises you that he’ll go to your place tonight and that you can show him everything you want, and that you’ll do whatever you have in mind.

His affectionate shake of the head softens his expression, a mix of amusement and adoration shining through. “You haven’t changed… still the yapper you always were.”

“Hey!” you protest lightly, squeezing his hand with a mock glare, though the laughter bubbling between you both erases any tension. The moment feels light, full of shared history and comfort, wrapping you in a warmth that feels both familiar and cherished.

His lips move to yours once again as he begins to move with purpose inside of you, each thrust deliberate and steady, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. The sensation of him filling you completely is both overwhelming and exquisite. Your bodies fit together seamlessly, as if molded for each other. His cock feels thick and warm inside you, the veins pulsing against your inner walls with every movement. The slickness between you eases his glide, intensifying the friction that draws soft moans from your parted lips.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. The angle shifts slightly, and he hits a spot that makes you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "God, you feel incredible," he groans, his voice strained with restraint. A sheen of sweat forms on his brow, and his dark hair falls messily over his eyes. You reach up to brush it aside, your fingers trembling as they trace the contours of his face.

"Jeno," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of skin meeting skin—the rhythmic slap that echoes in the room, punctuated by your shared breaths and quiet whimpers. The scent of desire hangs heavy in the air, a heady mix that makes your head spin.

He gazes down at you, eyes filled with a mix of lust and tenderness. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press kisses along your jawline, down the curve of your neck. His lips are warm and soft, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You arch your back, pressing your chest against his. The friction of your bodies sends sparks of electricity coursing through you. Your hands roam over his toned back, feeling the muscles tense and flex beneath your touch. Each thrust drives him deeper, the intensity building with every passing second.

The pleasure mounts, a coil tightening low in your belly. His pace quickens, hips snapping with a newfound urgency. The sounds of your passion grow louder—his low grunts mingling with your breathy moans. "I can't get enough of you," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

"Don't stop," you plead, your head thrown back as he hits that perfect spot again and again. The world blurs at the edges, your focus narrowing to the exquisite sensations he's drawing from you. You moan softly, your head tilting back as he kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck. “Right there,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a sigh.

“Like this?” he asks, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone carries a hint of teasing, but his eyes are filled with tenderness.

“Yes,” you reply, your fingers digging gently into his back as you encourage him to maintain the rhythm.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he brings them above your head. The gesture is both protective and possessive, anchoring you to him. The intimacy of it sends a warm rush through your body.

“Look at me,” he whispers. You meet his gaze, losing yourself in the depths of his eyes. The connection between you transcends the physical; it’s as if your souls are touching.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His tongue dances with yours, the taste of him intoxicating. Your lungs burn for air, but you don't dare pull away, not wanting to break the connection.

Your bodies move in perfect harmony. The bed creaks beneath you, the sheets tangled around your entwined limbs. A thin layer of sweat slicks your skin, making every touch slippery and electrifying.

"I'm close," you gasp against his lips, your nails digging crescents into his back. The tension inside you winds tighter, threatening to snap.

"Me too," he groans, his rhythm becoming erratic. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing as he pins it gently above your head. The gesture is possessive yet tender, grounding you in the moment.

You whine softly, tears welling in your eyes as you instinctively cover your face, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Each moan that escapes your lips is a testament to the intensity building within you. “Look at me,” he urges again, his gaze searching yours with a dark intensity that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body. When you don’t move your hands, he gently pries them away, his voice low and sultry as he warns, “If you cover your face again, I’ll get handcuffs.” The threat hangs in the air, electrifying the moment and deepening the tension between you.

Your eyes meet his, locking in a gaze so profound it feels as though he’s seeing into your very soul. The stern edge in his expression softens abruptly, replaced by a tenderness that takes your breath away. His movements slow, each thrust becoming deliberate and filled with meaning.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, his voice rough with passion yet laced with vulnerability.

Your heart swells, the raw emotion in his eyes mirroring your own feelings. “I love you more,” you manage to reply, the words tumbling out amidst your mounting ecstasy.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, soulful kiss. The world around you fades as you melt into him, every sensation intensified—the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat, the way his breath mingles with yours.

With a final, deep thrust, the coil inside you releases. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your vision white-hot as you cry out his name. Your inner walls flutter and clench around him, pulling him deeper.

Feeling you come undone pushes him over the edge. He groans loudly, his grip on your hand tightening as he spills into you. The warmth of his release fills you, a intimate claim that leaves you both trembling.

He collapses gently onto you, careful not to crush you under his weight. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breaths hot and ragged against your skin. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart matching your own.

For a few moments, neither of you moves, both riding out the lingering pulses of pleasure. The room is filled with the sounds of your slowing breaths, the air heavy with the scent of sex and something deeper—reconnection.

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, a soft smile curving his swollen lips. His eyes shine with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. Gently, he brushes a damp strand of hair away from your face.

He moves inside you with a relentless rhythm, drawing out until only the tip remains, then thrusting back in deeply. As he pulls out, the slick sound of your combined arousal fills the air, and the visual of his glistening arousal intensifies the raw, erotic nature of the moment. Your eyes flutter, heavy with the afterglow and impending exhaustion, but he’s quick to gently catch your attention.

“Don’t sleep now, remember you have to show me your apartment,” he says, his voice a tender nudge against the lure of sleep. You nod, half-heartedly, your body sinking deeper into the comfort of his bed and his arms, your eyes remaining firmly shut.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Sex always did use to knock you out,” he observes with a warm laugh. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he whispers, his hands coaxing you gently off the bed despite your protesting groan. He leads you into the bathroom where he runs a nice, warm bath. The steam fills the room as he carefully helps you into the tub, his care and attention washing over you as soothingly as the water itself.

That night, as effortlessly as slipping into a warm bath, he became your boyfriend again. It didn’t feel rushed or unnatural; rather, it was the most natural progression in the world. It was as if fate had steered you back to this exact moment, unwilling to let you waste more precious time apart. Despite the years, the foundation of your relationship remained unshaken; tonight, you simply continued building upon it, marveling at how natural it felt to be together, how much you both had grown.

Later, nestled against him, the vulnerability of your conversation mirrors the intimacy you’ve shared physically. “I still don’t understand why you forgave me so easily though,” you murmur, half-dazed by sleep and contentment.

Jeno’s response is tinged with the wisdom gained from years of reflection, “I was mad at first but then I calmed down. Being angry wouldn’t help either of us. Besides,” his voice softens, “there’s a reason you’re back here with me now. No point in wasting any more time.”

Your mind spins briefly with the image of him with someone else, but his next words reassure you, “You’ve been the only one for me. I never stopped loving you.”

You laugh, a soft, disbelieving snort, “And to think you’ve been the only man I’ve ever been with.”

He grins, the sound of his laughter mixing with yours in the quiet of the night. “And the only guy you’ve had sex with… I still can’t believe it.”

Your voice is playful, yet curious, “So how many girls have you been with other than me?”

Jeno's response is nonchalant, a casual shrug catching the dim light of the room, “Honestly, I don’t keep count.” His tone is dismissive of the past, focusing only on the present moment with you.

“Hey,” you interject gently, shifting the conversation as your eyes soften and your voice drops to a more vulnerable tone, which he immediately responds to with a comforting hum and an encouraging smile.

“After all this time, you still love me?” you whisper, your gaze intently searching his for confirmation. Despite the clear affection and warmth in his eyes—a testament to his feelings—doubt whispers through your mind, pushing you to seek reassurance.

He nods, his response quick and unwavering, infused with a depth of sincerity that leaves no room for doubt. “After all this time,” he affirms softly, his voice a steady anchor in the sea of your insecurities. His simple affirmation, laden with years of unspoken emotion and a steadfast commitment, resonates deeply, offering you a profound sense of peace and belonging. His eyes hold yours, reinforcing his words, a silent vow that despite everything, his heart has remained irrevocably yours.

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authors note — i know i’ve been really inactive, this work doubles as a sorry and a thank you for an amazing follower milestone i’ve just reached <3 mwah mwah enjoy. make sure you leave an interaction if you enjoyed it xx

[ddejavvu]

bff james w no boundaries — his main love language is physical touch and that includes biting,, like 😭 you’ll just be minding ur own business n he’ll bite your shoulder or anywhere really.

hope ur doing well angel. ❤️

"Here, Remus," You offer up a spoon of blueberry tart to the teenage werewolf, unphased by now at the closeness of your friends. Perhaps at eleven you'd be worried about swapping cooties when sharing spoons, but now you're only worried about plumping Remus's gaunt frame up again before the next full moon.

You extend the spoon towards Remus but in doing so you have to bypass James who's sitting beside you on the bench. You'd expected him to fake a lunge for the sweet, but when he opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into what's in front of him it happens to be the flesh of your arm.

"Hey-ow!" You yelp, and despite your word choice, it doesn't really hurt. It's more of a grasp than it is a bite, just enough force to pin your arm between James's infuriatingly perfect teeth.

"Prongs," Sirius's face screws up in what you're sure is a mix of embarrassment and confusion at his friend's behavior, but perhaps there's a slight possibility of fear there, too. Fear that James has become a cannibal and the boy with the bed next to his will suffer tonight.

"That's good." James retracts his bite as quickly as he'd dished it out, smacking his lips like there'd been something swallowed and enjoyed, "That's good arm."

"You're a freak." Remus drawls, finally taking the tart from your spoon and letting the flavors wash over his tongue, "Pads and I are supposed to be the biters. Deer are just supposed to run away from everything."

"That's not true." James defends his animagus with a passion while Sirius snickers across the table, "Deer fight with their antlers. Sometimes deer fight so hard that their antlers come off. And deer do bite sometimes, thank you very much."

"Only during mating season." Sirius references the copious research they'd each done into their animal counterparts, "Don't steal another page from the dog book and start humping her leg, Prongs."

"It is not my mating season!" James exclaims, just a bit too loud for the social setting you're in. Your cheeks are blazing but thankfully James is making a fool of himself enough that no one is studying you. "I'm simply overcome with the urge to sink my teeth into people when I'm feeling particularly fond of them. Y/N's making sure Moony's stomach isn't flatter than his ribcage, and I appreciate that. Only a good woman shares her blueberry tart. Hence," He grins, more of a baring of his teeth than a smile, "I bite."

He leans down to take a chunk out of your shoulder this time, and you feel the sharp-but-gentle pricking of his teeth even through three layers of clothing.

You have the time and the power to raise your shoulder and clock James in the teeth with your bone. But you refrain, and perhaps that's why Sirius finally latches onto you instead of James.

"Careful, darling." He warns, his own canines glinting in the candlelight above, "Deer can go rabid. I'd make sure you're not contaminated with his saliva if I were you."

"Too late." James grumbles around the meat of your shoulder, raising his head quicker than you can react to lick a fat, wet stripe across your face, "I'm not rabid, Pads. But I can see why you dogs do the licking thing. It's not bad."

"Yes it is." You decide, smearing away his sticky spit with the sleeve of your button-up, feeling the phantom sensation of his teeth on your skin, "And if you do it again I'll bite you back."

"Kinky, you two." Sirius kicks you beneath the table, a wicked grin on his face, "Remus, I think we should take our meal elsewhere. Prongs and Y/N are about to start necking right in front of the pastries, and that's not the glaze I prefer on my donuts."

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Or Someone Finds The Lid.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader x Yandere!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 8.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @elsecrytt.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Prolonged Captivity, Severe Infantilization, Forced Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Wildly Unhealthy Dynamics, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Geto Suguru has an Oral Fixation, Gojo Satou has a Mommy Kink, and Nonconsensual Drug Use. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part One]

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

It had to be close to the hundredth time you’d in the past week, in the days since you woke up in a distressingly pastel bedroom, hostage to your two always worryingly possessive, but only recently deranged boyfriends. You knew, more concretely, that it was around the eleventh time you’d spouted that exact line today and the fourth time in the past hour, and as always, you were answered with a sympathetic glance, a patronizingly sweet smile. You could only be thankful it was coming from Satoru, this time. Suguru would’ve been much more condescending.

“Because we love you.” Another common sentiment, purred with just as much enthusiasm as it had been the first time you’d heard it, or the twelfth, or the forty-seventh. “And because you look good in pink.”

You sighed audibly, and Satoru pretended not to notice – only pulling you that much closer and resting his head on your shoulder. You were quickly learning that personal space, like many prior luxuries you hadn’t known to enjoy, was a right that Satoru and Suguru could revoke at will. Currently, your body was folded against Satoru’s – your back slotted against his chest and his legs spread on either side of you, the chain still attached to your ankle spread out over the mattress and the handheld console he was only partially focused on balanced on your lap. You tried to treasure the opportunity to stare mindlessly at a screen (a special privilege, considering your usual means of entertainment consisted of crayons, elementary-grade chapter books, and a plastic tea set), but for whatever reason, watching Satoru play Animal Crossing for three consecutive hours was just as under stimulating as it had been pre-kidnapping.

“That’s not a real answer.” You nudged your elbow into his chest, and when that didn’t work, pushed at his arm, just trying to get his attention. Yet another perk of your newly assigned position in this relationship – Satoru and Suguru had never made an exceptional effort to listen to you before, but now, you might as well have been speaking another language. “This is just—It’s just been so much, and it’s all so frustrating, and I don’t—”

And, just like that, you were tearing up – your vision going foggy as you struggled to hold back tears, to swallow down the whine building at the base of your throat. It was less that you’d been crying more easily and more than you were always on the verge of tears; your anger and frustration and confusion constantly at their peaks, just waiting for an excuse to spill over and leak out. Immediately, Satoru dropped his console, cooing softly as he scooped you up and turned you around. You moved to hide your face, but he was faster, more determined – his hands cupping your cheeks before you could swat him away. You weren’t crying yet, not really, but he took pains to hum and kiss away the few tears that escaped despite your best efforts. It was alarming, that crying was the only thing that consistently got them to hear you out. You tried not to think about the implications of that when paired with the pastel-pink aesthetic and the overall toddler-adjacent treatment.

“I’m really frustrated, ‘toru,” you repeated, melting into his hands. There was another coo, another peck to your forehead, before you went on. “I just— I need to know why you’re doing this. You can tell me that much, can’t you?”

“I’ve already told you, baby. It’s because we—” You cut in with a miserable, heart-breakingly pathetic sniffle, and Satoru pouted, shaking his head. Still, he broke quickly enough. “Look, you know that Suguru and I had it kinda rough before we met you, right? When we were growing up, I mean.”

Vaguely. You knew that Suguru’s parents died while he was in high school, that it’d been some kind of freak accident, but he didn’t like to talk about it. You’d met Satoru’s family once, but ‘met’ might’ve been the wrong word for it. Really, you’d sat in the antechamber of an estate the side of a small shopping mall for a little over an hour, answering questions asked by a woman who hadn’t introduced herself before being informed that, while you were not deemed a suitable partner for Satoru, you also weren’t dangerous enough to be worth the effort it would take to actively keep you away from him. Most of the time, you just tried to pretend that neither of your former partners, current captors had any immediate family.

Reluctantly, you nodded, and Satoru rewarded you with another kiss – this one to the corner of your jaw. “I know you probably don’t get it, but me and Suguru – we care about you, we care about you a lot. And the world’s a really, really dangerous place. If something happened to you out there…” He trailed off, laughing airily. An arm looped around your waist, pulling you into his lap, his chest. Instead of trying to resist, you curled against him, burying your face in his shirt as he rubbed slow, small circles into the small of your back. “You’re better off here. Getting to keep you all to ourselves is just a bonus.”

You wanted to scream, to bash your fists against his chest, to point out that they were the only people who’d ever isolated, assaulted, or kidnapped you, but he was doing what you asked him to, and the worst thing you could’ve done was give him a reason not to be as generous in the future. “…I don’t understand why you had to do—” You nodded towards your clothes – a set of bright pink cotton pajamas dotted with strawberries – then the rest of the room. “—this, though, if you’re trying to keep me safe. Couldn’t you have just… not?”

Another laugh, this one more sincere. “That part’s just for us.” This time, when he squeezed you against his chest, he didn’t let go until you were squirming against him, struggling to breathe. “Suguru does tend to let the roleplay get a little out-of-hand, but it really does help. There’s just something about seeing you all sweet n’ dressed up, surrounded by cute, soft things...” He trailed off with an airy laugh. “Makes me feel… secure, y’know? Like we’re keeping you safe.”

Something thick and jagged caught in your throat. “…this was Suguru’s idea?”

If he heard you, then that was a question he wasn’t interested in answering. “I meant the other part, too.” And then, with a slightly longer, more lingering kiss to the apex of your throat. “You look really good in pink.”

You felt it a second later – a familiar shape pressing into your ass, already worryingly stiff. You pulled away from him, your disgust too reflexive to hide. “…it gets you hard to see adult women dressed like first-graders?”

“No, princess.” A pause, a sudden nip to the side of your neck. “It gets me hard when you dress like a first-grader.”

Thankfully, before you had time to start to unpack that, you heard the bedroom door open and glanced over your shoulder to find Suguru leaning against the frame. Concern was written clearly across his expression, but it dulled to affectionate exasperation when he saw Satoru wiping away your non-existent tears. “I thought I heard a struggle,” he explained, unprompted. You hadn’t put up much of a physical fight yet, but they were both clearly concerned you would – the literal chain around your ankle was evidence enough of that. “Is it time for the little princess to take her medicine?”

You seized up at the mention of your ‘medicine’ – sedatives administered in the form of tiny, heart-shaped pills that left you exhausted and disoriented for hours at a time, if they didn’t knock you out entirely. It was what they’d used the night they’d taken you, and Suguru seemed to like to pull them out whenever you cried, or screamed, or did anything they should’ve known to expect from an acclimating victim.

To his credit, Satoru didn’t jump at the opportunity to drug you into oblivion. Not this time, at least. “She got a little overwhelmed. I took care of it.”  You slumped against him, letting yourself relax. That was your mistake, really. Maybe you should’ve had more realistic expectations, too. “But,” he went on, pushing another, sloppier kiss into your neck. “She’s still pretty fragile. A few hours off probably wouldn’t hurt.”

It was awful – how easily they could talk about you like some distant, abstract subject, how quickly they seemed to forget you were capable of listening when not addressed directly. With a smile, Suguru moved forward, resting one knee on the edge of your mattress while Satoru held you in place – keeping you from scrambling back as far as your chain would allow. You tried to grit your teeth, to keep your mouth shut, but Suguru only clicked his tongue, cupping your face with one hand while pressing something small and chalky against your pursed lips with the other. “Darling,” he drawled, infusing as much syrupy condescension into the pet name as was humanly possible. “You remember what happens to bad girls who don’t do what they’re told, don’t you?”

Instantly, your heart dropped. You remembered.

Driving your nails into your palms, you unlocked your jaw and hesitantly opened your mouth. Suguru barely waited for your lips to part before shoving the pill past your teeth and down your throat, keeping two lingers lodged in your airway even as you sputtered and gagged around him. It was less that you swallowed his pill and more that you would’ve had to choke down anything he all-but force-fed you, but whatever you called it, Suguru was satisfied – drawing back with a pleased hum only to tap his saliva-coated fingers against Satoru’s lips, instead. You shut your eyes, but it wasn’t enough.

The last thing you heard were the wet, stomach-turning noises of Satoru’s affection before everything went fuzzy.

~

You only really acted out once – about three weeks in, when the initial adrenaline was starting to fade and the slow, vicious dread of prolonged captivity had just begun to set in. You weren’t allowed to leave your windowless, ambiently lit bedroom, and by end of the first week, time had turned into something viscous and unforgiving, the endless hours only broken up by visits from Satoru and Suguru. It was hard not to be constantly on edge – unsure if you’d been alone for hours and minutes, simultaneously dying to see them again and hoping you never would. It was hard to tell what they were thinking, when you were so caught in in your own spiraling thoughts to try and guess at theirs.

Speaking of – their dynamic had become a little clearer, even if how things had spiraled out of control so quickly was still lost on you. You and Satoru had always been the dominant personalities in your relationship, with Suguru as the calming presence that leveled the two of you out, setting arguments and keeping you from tearing out each other’s throats. Now, though, the roles were reversed. Satoru was happy enough to spend most of his time treating you like an oversized, particularly uncooperative stuffed animal; something to cuddle and coo over, but not necessarily train or expect to reciprocate. Suguru, though…

Suguru had expectations.

“I need you to hold still, love.”

Suguru’s fingers brushed over your spine as he fiddled with the complex array of buttons lining the back of tonight’s nightgown. You’d seen your closest, knew they must’ve spent a small fortune on dresses and shoes and accessories, but Suguru still seemed to prefer you in sheer, cotton nightgowns and lacey lingerie and humiliatingly childish loungewear – nothing you would’ve been able to wear outside of home, even if you’d put it on willingly. It was a blessing that Suguru and Satoru were as busy as they were – Satoru with his classes and Suguru with his religious group. Most of the time, you’d find Suguru’s chosen outfit on the foot of your bed and be trusted to dress yourself. Most of the time.

Just not tonight.

“Someone’s a little antsy.” It was Satoru, this time, as unhelpful as ever. He was sprawled across your bed, toying idly with your chain while you sat in front of a vanity on the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding your reflection in the tri-fold mirror. “You should’ve let me play with her in the tub. Then, she wouldn’t have the energy to squirm.”

You felt your face burn. As if being forced to drink out of sippy cups and color with crayons wasn’t enough, bathtime was quickly becoming one of your most unbearable daily trails. Suguru always made sure things stayed above-board, but having to watch Satoru fuck his own fist while Suguru lovingly dictated where, when, and how roughly to clean yourself wasn’t much better than the alternative.

“Absolutely not. You’re too rough, and the last thing we want is for our princess to get bruised because you can’t wait another half an hour.” Fenagling the last button into place, Suguru straightened his back, sighing contentedly. “Can you turn around for me?”

Biting down on the side of your tongue, you shifted on the velvet-cushioned stool, your back pressing into the edge of the vanity’s counter as you faced Suguru. You’d made a point of not looking at yourself, but you could imagine what he saw – a thin nightgown clinging to your damp skin, your posture shrunken and your eyes downcast, every part of you made to seem small and helpless. If the feeling of his gaze burning into you wasn’t telling enough, the overwhelming delight audible in his voice would’ve given him away in a heartbeat. “Satoru, you have your phone, right? I want a picture. And—oh.” Your eyes darted in his direction just in time to see him pull a stuffed animal from one of the larger stacks; a large, white rabbit teddy, its button eyes an overly familiar shade of blue. He held it by its ears as he handed it to you. “Hold onto this for a second, love.”

You felt something tighten in your chest. You were in a bad position. You were in a bad place. You needed to be careful, and yet, when you finally managed to say something, you could only seem to spit out the one thing you knew he wouldn’t want to hear. “I… I really don’t want to take a picture right now, if that’s alright.”

To his credit, Suguru’s didn’t falter, his grin only wavering slightly. “Love,” He paused, sighed. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to.”

“I know, but—” Your breath hitched in your throat. Really, it was a miracle you weren’t already crying. “Please, Suguru. Not right now.”

His expression darkened, and yet, the gentle sigh that slipped past his lips was nothing short of tender. Still holding the rabbit, he reached out – catching the lace of your nightgown’s collar with two fingers. For a second, he just played with the delicate fabric, careful not to damage it.

Then, before you could think to react, his fist was around your neck and you were being slammed into the vanity.

There was enough force behind the collision to splinter the wood upon impact, to knock the air out of your lungs and seed an awful knot of blinding pain in the back of your head. You gasped, but it was too late – his fist tightened around your throat and you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move save what it took for your hands to find his and dig your nails into his wrist, his forearm, his knuckles, whatever you could reach. You never would’ve been able to pry him off, but you didn’t need to. He released you as abruptly as he’d lunged, and without his support, your body dropped off of the vanity’s now-dented desk and onto the carpeted floor, your dress falling into a limp heap around you. You were too shocked to cry, to sob, to scream. Suguru and Satoru had kidnapped you, dehumanized you, isolated you, but neither of them had ever hurt you. They’d never—

Except, that wasn’t true, was it? They had hurt you. The first thing Suguru ever didwas hurt you, bending you over his knee the second you disobeyed him, and Satoru helped.

For your own sake, you decided to consider this an escalation, a new development. Something neither of them would’ve been capable of, back when you still considered them your Suguru and your Satoru.

 You also decided, still for your own sake, that you couldn’t afford to think about this any longer. Suguru was already moving on, lowering himself to your height, pouting as he raked his fingers through your now-disheveled hair and evaluated your newly wrinkled dress. “I’m sorry, princess. I must’ve lost my temper. I know you must be upset – having your pretty outfit ruined and all.”

He waited a beat, then asked, “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

If you hadn’t been so scared, you might’ve slapped him. Instead, you just bit down on your bottom lip and mumbled an unsure “I… I’m sorry?”

“For what, exactly?”

“For—For talking back, and making you angry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know, love, I know. You would never mean to do anything like that.” He was still holding onto that fucking rabbit. You felt its velvet-soft material brush against your leg as he placed it, almost carefully, on the floor next to you. “I’ll tell you what – there don’t have to be any pictures. Why don’t you take your medicine, and we can allgo to bed?”

“No!” It was a purely automatic response, as reflexive as lashing out and latching onto his arm. When you realized what you were doing, you pulled away with a jolt, forcing your hands back into your lap and staring wide-eyed at the floor. “I mean, I’m sorry, I just—” You swallowed harshly. “Isn’t there… uh, another option? Please?”

Suguru opened his mouth, but Satoru cut in before he had the chance to answer. “Think it’s time to break out her pacifier, Suguru?”

You perked up. No part of you wanted to suck on a piece of plastic for the entertainment of your captors, sure, but it was better than the alternative. Fuck, you were having trouble of thinking of something that wasn’t.

Suguru seemed to like the idea, too. He shot Satoru an appreciative smile before pushing himself to his feet, before turning his attention back to you, eagerly waiting for your next bout of psychological torture.

It was only when he reached for the waistband of his sweatpants that you realized your mistake.

You might’ve protested – or, whined, at least – but the back of your skull still ached, and you could still see Satoru smirking in your peripheral, and he was already forcing his boxers below his hips, already curling a hand around the shaft of his cock. Disgustingly, terrifyingly, he was half-hard; his bloated tip flushed a darker shade of red, beads of arousal leaking from his blunt head and dripping down his shaft. Your thoughts seemed to waver, then fry, then blot out altogether – like a video game glitching in the middle of a cut scene. Maybe you should’ve just sat still for the fucking picture after all.

“The poor thing looks so startled,” Suguru cooed, glancing to Satoru. “Why don’t you lend her a hand?”

You were vaguely aware of Satoru moving, shifting, pushing himself off of your bed and crouching behind you. His thumb pushed past your lips and hooked your lower jaw easing your mouth open with as little grace as you had remaining dignity. You tried to bite down, obviously, but Suguru took hold of your hair and pulled – the sharp spike of pain immediately dispelling any thoughts of disobedience. “He’s helping you,” Suguru chimed, his voice taking on a cloying overtone. “You’ll have to thank him properly later on. When your mouth isn’t full, I mean.”

It wasn’t, but that changed quickly. Suguru was kind enough (or cruel enough) to move slowly, easing the head of his cock past your lips first, letting it sit on your tongue as you fought not to cringe against the bitter, musky taste. Satoru pulled his hand away as Suguru eased another inch into your mouth, then another, then another – letting out a rough groan as his tip hit the back of your throat with more than half of his shaft to spare. You fought the urge to gag, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’d given him head before, but it’d always been on your own terms, with Satoru waiting on the sidelines to bail you out if you ever got tired of choking on your boyfriend’s stupidly big dick. Now, though, Satoru didn’t seem to want to do anything but breathe down your neck, and you doubted your consent was a factor either of them would stop to genuinely consider.

Ultimately, your enthusiastic cooperation proved unnecessary. Suguru kept his fingers tangled in your hair, his blunt nails biting into your scalp as he manually bobbed your head – slowly, at first, then faster, with enough force to leave your jaw sore after less than a minute of being split around his shaft. Saliva and pre-cum drooled from the corner of your mouth, dripping down your chest and onto your nightgown, but if Suguru cared, the feeling of your throat convulsing around him was enough to warrant a momentary lapse in decency. “T-that’s it,” he muttered, mostly under his breath. “Good, good girl. See what happens when you’re well-behaved?”

You felt Satoru shift behind you, his hands skirting over your back as he skillfully undid the buttons Suguru had spent so much time fussing over. A pair of large, velvet-soft hands grazed over your waist, then your sides, before reaching your chest and cupping your tits – kneading the soft tissue like a pair twin stress balls fitted perfectly to his palms. “She looks better already,” Satoru laughed, thumbs swiping over your nipples. “You’re gonna thank mommy for being so nice with you, right?”

Suguru snorted. “I’m mommy?”

“Mhm. ‘cause you’re so pretty and you take such good care of our little princess.” He nudged you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “Go on, baby. Tell mommy how much you love him.”

You choked something out – more of a desperate whine than anything coherent – and Suguru threw his head back, cursing silently as his pace turned from sloppy to erratic. His cock battered into your throat with every thrust, your air supply constantly somewhere between minimal and nonexistent. It was only as the outskirts of your vision started to fade that Suguru hissed, gritting his teeth as he dragged your head into his hips, your nose pressing into his pubic bone and his cock so far down your throat, you could practically feel him in your lungs. A sudden twitch, a groaned exhale was all the warning you received before you felt something hot and thick fill your throat, your mouth, your diaphragm. He held you there for a moment, then another – savoring the sound of your fractured whimpering all-but drowned by his cum – before letting you go, watching through half-lidded eyes as you collapsed into Satoru’s waiting arms.

You lurched forward, moving to spit, to get him out of you, but Satoru’s hand was already covering your mouth – determined to keep Suguru’s taste on your tongue for that much longer. At the same time, you felt something small and soft being dropped onto your thighs, heard the shutter of a camera above you. Rather than trying to look at Suguru, you let your gaze fall to your lap.

Or, rather, the perfectly white, perfectly posed rabbit now resting peacefully on top of it.

~

It was two months before the chain came off – meaning, before Suguru and Satoru were happy enough with either your behavior or their security to let you roam freely (with heavy supervision, of course). It went without saying that you were ecstatic. You could barely sit still while Satoru undid the shackle, barely listen while Suguru told you their plans for the night – dinner and a movie marathon, not totally dissimilar to something you might’ve suggested when you still had the authority to be making suggestions. It didn’t matter. You were just happy to be doing anything, especially if it meant you got to leave that godawful room.

You only realized that you’d still been picturing your old apartment when you stepped out of the bedroom an abruptly realized you weren’t in an apartment at all, but a house – two stories with every window looking out onto a fence so tall, you would’ve had to be on the roof to see over it. It was decorated sparely, with what few shelves there were littered sporadically with Satoru’s gundams or parts of Suguru’s ongoing trinket collection, but minimalism was an appreciated change compared to the ongoing sensory nightmare that was your bedroom. You gawked at every empty surface, every plain white wall as Suguru herded you to the kitchen, where Satoru was busy plating what looked like udon. The seating arrangement was strange – there were only two chairs at the dining room table, but you were too caught up in your own euphoria to care. You grabbed a bowl and a pair of chopsticks, fell into a seat, and—

“Sweetheart,” Suguru started, his voice somewhat strained. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh,” You glanced at your bowl, abruptly confused. “Eating? I think?”

“Almost, but not quite. I guess I can’t blame you for not knowing.” He rounded the table, coming to stand at your side. You tried to get up, but it only took a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Even something as simple as using utensils can be dangerous for little ones like you. Me and Satoru will be feeding you by hand, from now on.”

It was strange, really – how many little deaths you could die before going numb to it. It was terrible, how many times you could hear one of the two men you loved most in the world say you were more incapable than a literal child before it all just turned to static.

You wondered, distantly, if Suguru was offended that you didn’t engage with this part of him more willingly. It was clearly sincere, if fucked-up, and if he’d ever bothered to ask, you probably would’ve agreed to try it – not that you would’ve had much of a choice, in the later stages of your relationship. It was different for Satoru – as long as you were trapped and at his mercy, he’d be happy. Suguru wanted something… different, more complex. Suguru wanted reliance.

Suguru wanted to break you down.

“If you say so.” You heard your voice, felt your mouth moving, but you weren’t talking. “Can I… um, would it be alright if I asked for something, first?”

Suguru’s satisfaction was almost palpable. “Of course. Anything for you.”

“I think I’d like to take my medicine, now.”

Suguru answered quickly, but not quickly enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Satoru reach for the cabinet above the stove before thinking better of it and glancing over his shoulder, as if to make sure you hadn’t seen. It took everything you had not to react as Suguru responded.

“Of course,” he said with an airy laugh, nearly purring. “Not right now, though – we’ll wait until it’s closer to your bedtime. Try to focus on dinner.”

You only nodded eagerly, smiling sincerely for the first time in weeks.

~

It took two weeks for you to get your hands on their pills (you stole two, just in case), and three more to convince Satoru that a field trip – his description, not yours – wouldn’t be that big of a deal, not if you kept it short, not if Suguru didn’t find out. He’d always been ecstatic when you visited him at his university (a historic private school, so unlike the local community college you’d gone to, the one you missed with all your heart), and besides, what was worst that could happen? He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight, and the students were still on winter break. You could even wear your old clothes, just to make sure you didn’t attract attention. It’d just be the two of you, all alone in his office, with hours and hours and hours to kill. Really, how could it possibly go wrong?

You waited until you reached his office to slip both stolen pills into his coffee. He’d barely gotten his belt off before the effects kicked-in, but still, you waited until he’d been reduced to a drooling, half-conscious shell of himself before making your escape.

You’d been right – his campus really was deserted. You hurried past dark lecture halls and empty offices as you rushed in a direction you hoped would lead to an exit, glanced out of windows that looked onto lifeless courtyards as you thought about what to do next. The police weren’t an option. They hadn’t hurt you, not in any way you’d be able to prove, and even if you had the evidence, Satoru was rich, and to the law, there was no greater proof of innocence. You tried to think of phone numbers, of addresses, but you hadn’t had many friends before meeting Satoru and Suguru, and they’d made sure to whittle that unimpressive number down to zero over the course of your relationship. You cursed under your breath, even though there was no one around to hear you. You should’ve taken Satoru’s wallet after he passed out. You wouldn’t have been able to use to his cards, but it would’ve been nice to—

You rounded the next corner, then froze.

At the end of the hall, like an omen of death granted human form, stood Suguru.

You took a faltering step backward before breaking into a full, heart-pounding sprint. Suguru wasn’t close, but he was close enough. He let you get all of three steps away before fist curled around the back of your shirt, his muscular arm wrapping around your midriff, trapping you with as much effort as it might’ve taken to lift a kitten by its scruff. Still, you thrashed, struggled, fought – throwing your elbow into his stomach and kicking at his legs as he lifted you off the ground entirely, pinning your body against his chest. He wasn’t supposed to be here. You were told he’d be at his shrine today, all day, with a thousand little things to do that’d keep him distracted until you got away. This wasn’t fair. He wasn’t supposed to be—

“Calm down,” he muttered, his voice distant, cold. “You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

Immediately, you went still. It was a vague threat, but it was a threat, and Suguru had never threatened you before.

Or, you didn’t think he had, at least. It was getting so hard to tell, after everything they’d done to you.

He didn’t sigh, or shake his head, or speak again. He only lowered you back to the ground and, after taking your hand in his, led you back down the vacant halls, past the abandoned classrooms, and to the door of Satoru’s office. He paused outside of it, his dark eyes falling to you in a way you could only describe as void-like. You had to wonder why you every thought you knew him.

“You were trying to…?”

He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. Reluctantly, you nodded, and Suguru turned away from you, shouldering open the office door.

Satoru was on his feet, but only barely. He was supporting himself on the corner of his desk, his pale face flushed red and his clothes noticeably disheveled. At some point, he’d lost his sunglasses, and you watched his sky-blue eyes go wide as Suguru crossed the threshold with you following shortly after. “Suguru, princess.” His voice was weak, breathy. You could only imagine how you’d sounded strung out on their sedatives. “How far did she get? She caught me off-guard, but—”

Suguru let go of your hand and closed the distance between him and Satoru. You heard the sharp crack before you could process what he was doing – saw Suguru raise his hand and Satoru’s head snap to the side without ever linking either action with the other. Even Satoru, always so resilient, took a moment to recover, his expression going blank as Suguru spoke, unphased. “If you ever leave me, I’ll break your legs so badly, you’ll never be able to walk again.” You didn’t have to wonder if he meant it. It didn’t matter if he meant it. The words alone left shaking too violently to move, let alone run. “And if you do anything to help her, I’ll gut you alive.”

Your eyes darted to Satoru, to his visibly swollen cheek. Somehow, he seemed even more flushed than he had seconds before, his eyes half-lidded and his lips slightly parted. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought he looked—

Oh, god.

You should’ve gotten away when you had the chance.

Of course, things only got worse when he opened his mouth. “Yes, mommy.”

“Get on the couch and lay down. It’s not like you’re good for anything else, right now.”

“I will, mommy.”

He obeyed mechanically, collapsing onto the well-worn sofa that sat against the far wall. You’d always thought it was too big, too bulky, especially in such a confined state. When you asked Satoru why he bothered to keep it, he’d just laughed and claimed he liked to keep his guests comfortable.

You doubted you counted as a guest. Then again, you doubted you were going to be very comfortable, either.

Suguru glanced over his shoulder, his lifeless stare boring into you. “Straddle his waist and help him undress. You did this, so you’ll be taking responsibility.”

Fear was a surprisingly strong motivation. You were scrambling onto the sofa before you had a chance to think, planting a knee on either side of Satoru’s hips as you fumbled clumsily with his shirt. For his part, Satoru was either incapable of or unwilling to help you – a distant, careless smile soon painting itself across his lips as he watched you struggle. When he did move, it was only to bring a hand to the back of your neck and drag you downward, his mouth crashing into yours. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy attempt to choke you to death with his tongue, but Satoru still groaned as you separated, his face immediately finding the crook of your neck. “So glad Suguru got you back,” he slurred, nuzzling into you. “He’s so hot when he gets all jealous like that.”

You were only half-listening to him, already distracted. Suguru had moved, too – kneeling behind you, his hands finding your hips and dragging them into the air. Your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties to the side, and just as abruptly, three of Suguru’s broad fingers were pushed into your cunt. You whimpered at the sudden, borderline painful intrusion, but Suguru only scoffed. “Be grateful you’re getting this much prep. It’s already more than you deserve.”

That didn’t do anything to stop the pain, though. Suguru was merciless – sheathing his digits to the knuckle, spreading his fingers apart, making it clear that he wasn’t doing this for your pleasure, even if he didn’t seem to be getting much out of it, either. You tried to shut your eyes, to grit your teeth and bare it, but any attempts to ignore reality were swiftly cut short by the feeling of his unoccupied hand coming down on your ass with enough force to bruise. “Did I say could stop?”

He hadn’t, but Satoru was making things difficult – keeping you slotted against him as closely as you could. As Suguru’s fingers fucked into you, you managed to get an arm between your body and his, for the waistband of his jeans down just far enough to earn a satisfied grunt from Suguru. Strangely, the worst part wasn’t the strain in your cunt, or the heat of Satoru’s cock pressing into your stomach, but the feeling of Satoru’s wide, toothy grin pressing into the side of your neck – tangible proof of his euphoria. It was awful – just how clearly he was enjoying this. At least Suguru had the decency to go blank.

It was too much too suddenly with too little build up, but Suguru knew your body and, more damningly, your body knew him. Barely a minute had passed before you felt arousal stain the inside of your thighs, before the sound of his digits plunging into you took on a distinctive wet quality. You let your head lull into Satoru’s chest and dig your teeth into your tongue, willing away any embarrassing noises that would’ve added to your ongoing degradation, but if Suguru cared, you couldn’t tell. He soldiered on with that brutal, unyielding pace, ignoring your clit entirely in favor of beating his frustration directly into your pussy. Really, it was a miracle you felt anything at all. Well, anything beyond pain, anyway.

It was only when you tensed against Satoru, when you finally let a single, fractured moan slip past your haphazardly sealed lips, that Suguru abruptly stopped; pulling out of you before you could fully process what was happening. You glanced over your shoulder, misplaced disappointment softening the harsher edges of your fear, but Satoru was quick to catch your chin – redirecting your attention back to him. “Where do you think you’re going, princess?” he asked, rocking his hips into yours. “You’ve gotta stay on my good side too, remembered?”

As if you could forget.

Behind you, Suguru glowered. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.” To Satoru, and then, to you, “Do it. Make sure he doesn’t cum.”

Your instructions were clear, albeit unappreciated. Satoru let you straighten your back, his hands kneading at your thighs as you picked yourself up and, as mindlessly as you could, aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. You wanted to move slowly, to give your abused cunt time to adjust, but Suguru proved uncharacteristically impatient; taking you by the shoulders and spearing you on Satoru’s cock before you could so much as consider protesting. You went stiff, your brain too busy trying to make sense of your sudden fullness to order your body to move, but Satoru didn’t seem to mind – only tightening his vice-like hold and bucking into you from below, his cock battering into the deepest, most vulnerable part of you without the slightest trace of concern.

You were too startled to make noise, but Satoru had always been so much louder than you, so much more eager to pour out his every little thought. “She’s so fucking tight,” he breathed, grinding into you. “Been ages since I had her on top of me, too. Almost forgot how—” A slight gasp, a pitchy whine, “Almost forgot how pretty she could get, sitting on her daddy’s lap.”

Your sight blurred, and a few seconds later, you realized you were crying. Suguru didn’t respond, but you heard fabric shifting, felt one of his hands disappear for a moment before returning, now on the center of your back. With more force than he really had to use, he shoved you back down, pressing you flat against Satoru as he maneuvered himself behind you. Space was limited, availability even more so, but still, it wasn’t until you felt the head of his cock press against your stuffed slit that you realized what he was doing.

“N—no,” It was almost impressive, just how quickly you abandoned what was left of your pride. You tried to pick yourself back up, but Satoru was a snare – an arm looking around your waist while the other found your hip, holding you still for Suguru. “Please, you can’t, it’s not—It won’t fit, and—”

And, just like that, Suguru was pushing into you, bottoming out in a single thrust. As his hips pressed into your ass and he let out a quiet, almost inaudible groan, you could only wonder if either of them had ever really loved you.

There was a lapse – more for their sakes than yours – before Satoru started moving, already acclimated. “Such a good girl,” he drawled, grinding into you, seemingly unhappy unless he and Suguru were both fully planted inside of you. “See? It’s not that bad, right? I knew you’d be able to handle it.”

But you couldn’t. Tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably, hitched sobbed and agonized moans trickling past your lips every time either of them moved. Suguru sucked in a shuddering breath, then planted a hand on the small of your back, thrusting into you sharp and deep – his movements a stark contrast to Satoru’s. The stretch along was unbearable. Even on your best days, you’d struggle to take either of them to the hilt. Taking both seemed fantastical, implausible, fatal. It was genuinely surprising that you weren’t already dead.

It was doubly as surprising, then, that it felt so good.

 Most of it had to be your own fried nerves trying to make the best of it, to get you through this as quickly and as painlessly as was possible. You weren’t in control of anything; not your hands as they clawed blindly at Satoru’s chest, not your hips as you bucked pitifully into Suguru, and certainly not your cunt as it clenched even tighter around the cocks splitting it open. Satoru let out an airy laugh, two fingers dropping to your neglected clit. “It’s okay, baby, you deserve to feel good too,” he gushed, pushing lazy circles into the small bundle of nerves, drawing out yet another miserable sob. “Told you she’d like it.”

“She’s not supposed to,” Suguru grunted, digging his nails into your waist. Still, that didn’t stop him from burying himself inside of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. You couldn’t be sure what it was – the fullness, maybe, or the overstimulation, or your own desperation to just get this over with – but your vision burnt white, your body convulsing against Satoru’s as you came undone around them. Satoru followed shortly after, digging his teeth into the curve of your neck as he pumped something searing and vileinto you. Suguru let out a rough, throaty growl – throwing his head forward and hilting himself entirely inside of you. You shook your head, pleading silently, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to notice, and even if he had, you doubted it would’ve been enough to stop him from cumming inside of you, from ensuring that no part of you was left uncorrupted.

There was a short period of numb, thoughtless stillness – filled only by Suguru’s panting, Satoru’s mindless cooing, and the absence of your voice. Suguru shifted, and for a second, you panicked, convincing yourself that there was more, that he wasn’t done – but he only pulled out of you, fixing his clothes with his eyes focused pointedly on the point where your cunt was still stretched around Satoru’s cock, where it leaked and drooled onto Satoru’s lap. You weren’t so resilient, letting your eyes fall shut and slumping against Satoru.

For the very first time, as you lost consciousness, you felt the smallest, tiniest, most microscopic spec of relief that, at the very least, you wouldn’t be responsible for cleaning yourself up.

~

“Stay in the car. I’ll call when it’s time for you to bring her in.”

The ride had been near-silent, only occasionally interrupted by an odd comment from Satoru or a hissed warning from Suguru. Suguru drove while Satoru held onto you in the back seat, keeping you gathered in his arms, his jacket draped loosely over your shoulders. Satoru only nodded as Suguru let himself out, making no move to follow. Whatever this was, they must’ve already talked about it while you were blacked out.

You waited until Suguru had disappeared into the house before speaking, your voice hoarse and unsteady. “He hit you.”

“Mhm. You did a number on my chest, too.”

“But—” You cut yourself off and started over. “He hit you.”

He flashed you a smile, as careless as it was dismissive. “What do you want me to say, baby?”

“That this insane. That he’s insane.” You crossed your arms over your chest, curling into yourself. “You can leave, Satoru – we can leave together. All we’d have to do is—” The air hitched in your throat, but you managed to snarl something out. “—fucking go.”

“And why would we want to do that, exactly?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

Satoru laughed, the sound breathy and light. “Because,” he said, nuzzling into your hair, “Suguru loves me. He loves us. You should know that – after today, especially.”

You opened your mouth, but shut it just as quickly.

This time, you had a feeling that he’d given you the only answer he was going to.

The next few minutes passed slowly. Satoru kept himself occupied, pushing slow, lingering kisses into your cheek and neck, while you stared mindlessly out of the window, trying to savor the last minutes of sunlight that you’d have for a long, long time. Eventually, Satoru’s phone buzzed. He didn’t even bother to check it before gathering you up in his arms and carrying you inside. You expected him to take you back to your bedroom, with its stuffed-animal lined shelves and bright pink walls and polished silver chain, but instead, he turned down a hallway you’d never seen before, into a bedroom that was distinctly not yours. Suguru was waiting for him, standing in the doorway to a dark closet. The edges of his lips quirked upward when he saw you. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the closest thing you’d gotten to one from him all day.

Satoru placed you next to him, and your attention turned back to the closet. Any clothes or shoes had been cleared out to make room for a single, silver dog crate, nearly big enough to stretch from one wall to the other. The bottom was padded with a light pink blanket that you recognized from your bed, and a white rabbit plush had been left in the far right corner. A deadbolt hung, undone, from the open kennel door.

You might’ve broken down entirely, if you hadn’t been so devastated.

Suguru’s voice was deafening and serene, as beautifully composed as it was unspeakably terrible. “Get in, love.”

“I’m not—”

“You should probably listen to him,” Satoru cut in, placing a hand on your shoulder. “This is just about the nicest thing he suggested.”

You swallowed, your heart failing to beat. Out of some ancient, primal, preservatory instinct, your body moved towards the crate, falling to its knees and bowing its head to fit inside. The kennel was big for a dog, not for a person. You had just enough room to huddle against the farthest wall as Suguru slid the door into place, the deadbolt locking with a sadistic click.

“It really is a shame,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I was hoping you could be our darling princess for a little longer, but I’m sure you’ll make a much better bitch.”

Satoru helped him back to his feet, and together, they retreated back to the closet door, Satoru casting one more lovesick smile over his shoulder as he shut the door behind them, leaving you in total, endless, solitary darkness.

Your wretched sobs echoed off the barren walls as you finally started to cry.