#like it doesn’t really bother me because I’m

[lemonlover1110]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬

Satoru Gojo

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Summary: Your best friend gets a new boyfriend, and you come to see him in a different light.

Warnings: MDNI, Angst, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Hair descriptions for reader

*This is a commission for @mew4-ever18, it's the prequel to Pretty Little Liar! If you haven't read it yet, I recommend reading it after this🙂‍↕️ Anything that doesn't match up, remember that this is written after Pretty Little Liar

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“Hey, Le–” You begin, but you stop yourself when you see your co-worker is chatting with someone. You aren’t all that familiar with the building, but you’re here to work on a new system for the corporation’s computers. You aren’t familiar with the people, therefore you have no idea who Levi talks to.

You stare at the man, sitting down on a chair as if he owned the place. He clicks a pen over and over again as he speaks with Levi. You take note of his unusual white hair color; strange for a man like him, considering you’re around the same age. He certainly doesn’t belong in the IT department.

You make brief eye contact with his bright blue eyes before turning your attention to the computers… You almost feel flustered at the brief interaction– Something that can barely be considered an interaction. You listen in on the conversation,

“When are you coming over, Satoru? My wife is thrilled for you to meet the kids.” Levi speaks, and Satoru shrugs in response. The name makes you furrow your eyebrows… Satoru, you feel like you’ve heard the name before.

“I’ve been busy, Levi. I barely have a moment to myself.” Satoru responds, making Levi click his tongue. It’s almost as if Levi doesn’t believe it. 

“Right, busy. That’s why you’re here.” Levi replies as he joins you to work on the computers. Satoru chuckles, and you feel your face get warm. He has a cute laugh at least. You know you won’t be bothered by him snorting as you work.

“I don’t know, Levi. He looks pretty busy to me.” You joke, making both men laugh. They continue their conversations as you work. It’s pretty trivial, nothing that’s noteworthy to you until Satoru speaks up,

“They’re using the café for some stupid shit on Friday.” Which sparks up your attention. You remember your best friend, Ali, mentioning something about a meet and greet. An event that she’s been obsessing over because her rival is showing up. “Something about influencers meet and greet. I can’t imagine being so obsessed with someone that you’ve never seen, that you’ll pay to meet them.”

“You’re so judgy, Satoru. Maybe use that opportunity to get a girlfriend.” Levi answers.

“Like hell I’d pay to meet someone.” Satoru quickly responds, making Levi roll his eyes.

“Your father owns the building, I’m sure you can get in without a hitch.” Levi responds, making your eyes widen. You stare back at Satoru, and his eyes are as wide as yours. His cover has been blown, all thanks to Levi. 

“I’m not–” He begins, but you shake your head as a chuckle escapes your lips.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Your fingers do a zipping motion across your lips, which makes a subtle smile appear on his lips.

“Your hair is really pretty by the way.” He says, eyes staring at your curly brown hair. You smile at him, muttering a barely audible thank you, before turning around and focusing on your job. They chat for another minute before Levi tells him,

“Go back to work, Gojo. We don’t need your dad coming down here and turning the place upside down.” Which makes Satoru cross his arms and pout as if he were a child. You look back at him and laugh at his reaction. 

Satoru makes a joking comment before standing up and leaving the place, finally going back to his job.

“I can’t wait for the weekend, I’m tired.” You comment as you chop up some vegetables, getting dinner ready for you and your best friend. Ali sits in the living room, staring at her phone. 

You can only assume that she’s editing some pictures to post. She’s so close to two million followers, and she’s posting just about anything to get attention. Or maybe she’s looking for outfit ideas, considering she’s going to be at the same place as Mai– She’s only reminded you over a hundred times that Mai’s her rival. One thing about Ali, she’ll make sure to stand out.

“Did I tell you what happened at work today? Some guy had an accident and they had to call an ambulance.” You continue talking, only to be met by hums. At least she’s listening, that’s what you tell yourself. You know that she’s busy and nervous for the event so you can’t blame her for not paying much attention.

You continue talking to her, not met by a single word from her. Not until you say something that catches her attention, “I also met the COO, I think his name was Satoru?”

“Gojo?!” She quickly questions, and you nod in response. She seems excited at the response, as if she knows exactly who Satoru is.

You furrow your eyebrows before asking her, “Do you know who he is?” 

“Of course I know who he is! He’s the most eligible bachelor in the city– Not to mention he’s our age.” She explains, and you’re surprised to see her so excited at the mention of Satoru. You should know by this point though. It’s even more surprising to hear her say, “Did you guys talk? What happened?”

“Oh, there wasn’t much to say. Him and my coworker were just talking about the event on Friday and that’s about it.” You tell her, and there’s a spark of hope in her eyes. She doesn’t have to ask before you gently let her down. “I don’t think he’s going… He did say he’s busy.”

“Oh.” Her excitement quickly turns sour, and you can’t help but feel bad for your best friend. 

“But maybe you’ll bump into each other! Satoru is really sweet, he complimented my hair.” You share, a bit of a dumb smile on your lips as you recall the moment. He’s really handsome, and to be complimented by him is utter flattery. 

You fail to notice how Ali rolls her eyes, a complete look of jealousy taking over her face. She lets out a small sigh before telling you, “Oh, dear. You’re just naive.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You innocently reply, and there’s a pitiful look in her eyes. It’s as if she feels sorry for you.

“I’ve heard he does it to everyone… He’s a bit of a flirt.” She answers, and you raise your eyebrows. You let out a low chuckle before nodding in response.

“I wasn’t thinking much of it.” You reply, though your flattery fades away in a matter of seconds. She’s right, why did you even think much of such a simple compliment? 

You continue talking, and as the conversation shifts from Satoru, she loses her interest once again.

Satoru doesn’t really care for coffee, but right now he can’t keep his eyes open. He needs to drink something to stay awake. He tried to slack off with Levi, but it seems that Levi would rather help his wife than help Satoru avoid work.

Satoru gets to the first floor of the building, and sees the line to enter the café. It’d be more time effective to get into his car and drive away, but he won’t do that. Satoru technically owns the building, so he should be able to skip the line without a problem. He ignores the complaints and yells from the people in the line.

Security lets him in without an issue, considering he’s very easy to recognize. One must be living under a rock to not recognize who Satoru Gojo is. 

The man plans on simply getting a coffee and leaving. Before his plan can even start, something catches his eye– Someone. They make eye contact before she turns her attention to a fan. She smiles brightly at them, tucking a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. 

He should just get his coffee and leave, she’s not the type of woman that Satoru would go for. The self-absorbed type. The type that he’d go after just for sex– It’s not that Satoru doesn’t like women that are self confident, he just doesn’t like when they can only talk about themselves. 

Even with his internal dilemma, he decides to step toward her. They grin at each other before she speaks up,

“Hey. Here for a picture?” Which makes him chuckle. He ends up nodding, because he’d be a fool to say no to her. The same man that was talking bad about the event is now glad that it’s happening in this building. 

He leans down to take a selfie with her, both of them smiling brightly at the camera. There’s someone else waiting to meet her, but they can wait. Her attention is completely on Satoru.

“I’m Allison by the way.” She tells him, extending her hand for Satoru to take. He laughs again, taking her hand. It was easy for her to know that Satoru had no idea of her existence… But he still wanted a picture. 

“I’m Satoru.” He introduces himself, and he knows that she knows who he is. The man looks back at the line that is waiting to meet the woman, and he asks, “Am I holding up the line?” 

“Oh, no!” She doesn’t skip a beat. It’s clear that she doesn’t want the man to leave so soon, not until she gets his number. “I mean, I’ve got all day.”

“I wouldn’t want some of the men in the line to–” Satoru looks back at the line, filled with grown men that are here simply to talk to Ali. He’s definitely interrupting, but she doesn’t seem to care so why should he? “Ah, who cares in the end? I’m talking to a very gorgeous woman, to hell with them.”

“I’m flattered.” She answers, and they continue their conversation. Other people in line grow desperate, a meet up that’s supposed to last two minutes has been extended by eight minutes. It’s not ending anytime soon either.

After a couple more minutes, Satoru hands her his phone, telling her, “How about you give me your number so we can talk a bit more?”

“I’d love to.” She smiles, not hesitating before giving him her number. She smiles, knowing that this is just the beginning of something wonderful with Satoru.

It’s nothing serious. Satoru just wants to meet up with Ali for one thing and one thing only. It’s not like he’s deceiving her as he texts her, Satoru makes it clear that she knows that he only wants sex. She’s clearly fine with it, from what he can tell. 

They agree to meet up at a hotel that isn’t too far from the café. Neither of them have to drive too much to meet up with each other. Satoru’s penthouse is nearby, but that’ll just turn things more personal than what they need to be. 

Satoru gets to the hotel, where he finds Ali waiting in reception. She’s eagerly looking around, excited to lay her eyes on him. He smiles at her when she finally sees him. Ali doesn’t waste a single second on walking over toward him, opening her arms to hug him.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long.” Satoru comments, as his hand grabs hers. She shakes her head, assuring him that she wasn’t there for too long. 

“Shall we go?” He asks, and she nods in response. She makes conversation, while Satoru prefers to stay quiet. He’s not trying to hide the fact that he isn’t looking for something more. 

He’s at the hotel for sex. He doesn’t have to engage in conversation because he’s made his intentions clear. 

And even with his very clear intentions, when he wakes up in the morning, he still takes her to breakfast. He feels a twinge of guilt as he watches her sleep beside him. He doesn’t know what it is– Perhaps it was something she said last night that makes him feel like this. 

He’ll take her for breakfast before giving her a proper goodbye.

Ali comes home a little past noon, wearing the same clothes as the previous day. You can’t help but notice immediately when she walks through the door. You’re not one that keeps tabs on her, after all, Ali is grown– But you can’t lie, you were worried. She had failed to tell you about any plans after the event, and she didn’t answer any of your messages.

“I’m home!” She sings, clearly elated about something. You can already form the picture. One of her fans was more handsome than she intended and she couldn’t help herself. You’re happy for her.

“Glad to see you’re okay.” You tell her, not caring to look up much from your phone. You know her, she’ll end up locking herself in her room for the rest of the day to catch up on sleep. You think you have her all figured out until she sits beside you on the couch. You look up at her, curious. “What happened?”

“Do you remember Satoru Gojo?” She can’t hide her smile. You nod in response, furrowing your eyebrows as you think about him. In what possible scenario would they– No. No no no. “He went to the meet and greet yesterday and he asked for my number!”

“That’s great, Ali!” You tell her, a little shocked about it. You would’ve sworn that he’d never show up to the meet and greet, but it seems that he changed his mind at the last second. However, the story clearly doesn’t stop there, otherwise she wouldn’t be wearing yesterday’s clothes.

“We kept texting all day before we agreed to meet up at a hotel and let me tell you!” She excitedly continues, but your interest is quickly lost. You don’t want to hear about Ali’s wonderful night with Satoru. You love her to death, but you don’t need the details of her sexual life. “He’s so passionate, my goodness! He kept going all night and–”

She continues, and you feel queasy at every detail. Ali just can’t keep stuff to herself. You won’t lie and say you aren’t a bit disappointed as she tells you everything. It means that Satoru is completely off limits now. Though, you don’t believe that you ever had a chance with him.

You’re happy for her, especially when she says, “He’s the man of my dreams, I’m telling you. We’re destined to be together.”

“I’m so happy for you, Ali.” You respond, and she has a hint of smugness in her expression. It’s not something you pick up on. 

You swear that she tells you out of pure excitement since she’s your best friend, and you’re her best friend as well.

Something that was meant to be a one night stand has turned into something more. It has no labels, that’s something that Satoru makes clear; something that Ali complains to you about every other day. Every single day she mentions Satoru, without failing to bring up how lucky she is. 

It’s been two months, and Ali is expecting some sort of commitment from Satoru. She knows she can’t force it, but she’s slowly growing impatient. It’s something that has become clear to Satoru as well. 

Satoru intends to let her down gently, but there’s never a right time. He’s walking her back to her hotel room after a very eventful day.

There’s never a right time because they spend a lot of time together. Very stupidly he decided to invite her overseas for her birthday. He’s not committing to her, but he’s very much giving her mixed signals. 

“You know, Satoru, I love spending time with you.” Ali suddenly says, and Satoru’s eyebrows perk up. He’s about to ask why, but she reads his mind. “You make me feel seen… Usually when I’m with a man they make me feel like I’m some sort of object…”

“I’m glad that you feel that way around me.” Satoru weakly smiles, feeling his ears get red. She says that as if Satoru isn’t similar to them. They’re just hooking up. 

They get to the door of her hotel room, and she proceeds to kiss his cheek. She squeezes his hands as she tells him, “Thank you for seeing me as someone more than just–”

“You don’t have to mention it.” He unintentionally cuts her off. He doesn’t want to hear it, knowing that he’s not as different as she claims he is.

“Thank you for inviting me out here. This place is truly beautiful.” She smiles brightly at him, unable to hide her happiness. “Bringing me here for my birthday was really thoughtful, I don’t know how to repay you.”

“You don’t have to repay me.” He assures her, placing a kiss on her forehead. He’s meant to let her down gently because he’s allowed this relationship to stray too far… But dumping a woman on her birthday? “Happy birthday, Ali.”

“Will you join me in my room? I want to watch a movie.” She asks, and Satoru bites down his lip before nodding in response. She opens the door to her room, and he sighs before speaking up.

“Ali, would you like to be my girlfriend?” It sounds forced and something he’d say out of pure guilt. Any other woman would be able to pick up on it by his tone, but Ali does not care. Her face lights up and she throws her arms over Satoru’s shoulders. She kisses him, her wordless answer to his question. 

A label-less relationship has suddenly obtained a label. The last thing that Satoru wanted.

Ali invites you out the moment she gets back from her trip. You assume it’s her way to apologize for leaving you stranded. You had a special birthday surprise for her, only to find out that she was out of the country by her social media. Ali has a bad habit of leaving you in the dark. 

She’s making it up by inviting you to a restaurant that’s absolutely out of your budget. You can’t believe your eyes once you’re outside of the place. You’ve heard of it before but you knew it was well out of your price range. She’s most definitely inviting you here to apologize since she sensed you were being a little cold with her lately.

You give your car keys to the valet and make your way into the place. You can’t help but feel a little out of place once you walk inside, but there isn’t much you can do about it. You give the host Ali’s name, and you’re quickly guided to the table.

Your eyes fall on her, a smile coming to your lips as you see your best friend. However, the smile quickly fades when you see that she isn’t alone. It strikes you that this isn’t an apology, but rather her introducing you to her boyfriend. 

You can’t lie and say that you aren’t disappointed, but it’s easy to brush off. You’re still here with her, it shouldn’t matter. 

“Hi.” You greet them, eyes lingering on Ali. You briefly look at Satoru, and you can tell that he doesn’t remember you. You were just a face that he once saw at work, you’re not hurt in the slightest.

“You’re finally here!” Ali exclaims, as if she’s overcompensating for something. Something you fail to pick up on. 

“Yeah, there was a bit of traffic.” You tell her as you take a seat across from her and Satoru. Ali grins before she begins to introduce the two of you.

“Satoru, this my best friend.” She signals towards you, telling him your name. There’s a frown on his face, trying to recall where he’s seen you before. You almost feel embarrassed because you remember exactly who he is, but he can’t even remember if he’s seen you before. 

Ali can’t wipe the smirk off her face as she introduces you to her boyfriend. She makes it clear that things are more than official now– She emphasizes the word as if she had forgotten to tell you, “And this is Satoru, my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, Satoru.” You wave at him, forcing yourself to smile. You’re a bit unprepared for all of this, considering Ali didn’t give you a heads up about meeting her boyfriend. Alas, you can’t flee now.

“We’ve met before!” He exclaims, suddenly remembering you. So it’s you. You’re the friend that couldn’t join on the trip because Ali claimed you were too busy. “You don’t remember? I was in the IT department slacking off– Well, I wouldn’t say slacking off but–”

“Yeah, I remember you.” You cut him off, a low chuckle leaving your lips as he runs down the events. It’s not the only time you’ve bumped into each other. Not too long ago you saw him in a meeting, but he was too busy with work to notice you. 

“I’m surprised you were too busy to join us on the trip, I didn’t think that your job was too demanding.” He brings up, and he feels Ali’s hand wrap around his wrist, squeezing. It seems like he’s overshared. You furrow your eyebrows, confused with what he says. 

“Huh? What do you mean?” You question, and before Satoru can further explain that you were invited on Ali’s birthday trip but you turned down the offer, Ali butts in.

“The trip was just so last minute so I assumed that you couldn’t come.” She explains, and you feel another wave of disappointment washing over you. You try to understand though, you know Ali is awful at communicating certain things. 

“Oh, I get it. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh it off. Awkwardness comes with the silence that ensues. Satoru looks around for the waiter, but he’s nowhere in sight. 

“I love your glasses, by the way. Is that a new frame?” Satoru asks, not liking the awkward silence. You feel your face get warm at the compliment but before you can answer, Ali speaks in your behalf,

“Aren’t they cute? I picked them out for her!” She quickly takes credit. “She called me for help! Poor thing looked lost.”

“That’s why I have you around.” You respond, and she laughs. She pulls out her phone, and quickly begins to take pictures for her Instagram story.

“My followers will love this.” She comments as she gets you and Satoru in a shot. It’s truly not a meal with Ali until she pulls out her phone to post everything.

You’re back in Satoru’s workplace before you know it. You’re there to do a system check, something that doesn’t require you to deal with Satoru. You don’t want to say that you’re overjoyed that you’re not dealing with him, but you certainly aren’t upset about it.

Ali drags you along with her to almost everything that deals with him. Long story short, you third wheel a lot. You’re rightfully awkward around him, and you don’t want to deal with that feeling in a workplace setting. Perhaps things would be different if you got to know him in a different setting, but you’d prefer to keep things with him as minimal as possible.

Your prayers aren’t heard though. The moment that you step into the building, you make eye contact with him. You attempt to ignore him, acting as if you didn’t see him as you begin your job. He gives you that courtesy, and leaves you alone since you so clearly don’t want to be bothered. 

Satoru leaves you alone until you bump into each other in the break room. When he sees you again, he wants to talk to you.

“How’s work today?” He asks, and you know that he’s directly talking to you since there’s no one else around. 

“It’s fine.” You answer rather dryly, and he notices. It’s not intentional, you’re just focused on your job. “How about you? Are you down here slacking off?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” He laughs as if he’s been caught doing something that he’s not supposed to be doing. You’re right, you’ve caught him slacking off.

“Mr. Gojo, your office is not on this floor.” You remind him, and he feels a bit embarrassed. Right, the giant detail that he’s overlooked. “Levi is a bit busy, you can come in a couple of hours though.”

“How about you? Are you busy?” He asks, and you are but you’re also looking to take a longer break; you’ve got the perfect excuse lining up, the COO needed you so you couldn’t refuse.

“Why do you ask?” You reply, and he puts his hands in his pockets as he looks around the room. Once he sees that he’s free to say whatever he wishes, he answers.

“How about I give you a tour of the building? I know that you’re not here often.” He offers, and you take a moment to think about it. You already know the building pretty well, the parts that you don’t know don’t concern you. You still think about it.

“Mr. Gojo–” You begin, only to be quickly interrupted by him.

“Please, we’ve spent enough time together. Call me Satoru.” He corrects you, and you hum in response.

“Alright, Satoru, show me the place.” You agree, only for him to grab your hand and drag you out of the break room without hesitation. He does not think about how things might be awkward afterward, Satoru simply lives in the moment.

“Alright you two, look at my phone.” Ali is practically shoving the camera right in your face to get the perfect shot. She needs to show off to everyone how great she is at managing her romantic and social life– She’s not the type of woman that puts a man over her friends. 

“Alright, babe. Put the phone down.” Satoru tells her after what feels like the millionth picture. He planned this lovely picnic, only for Ali to only care about showing her followers. He likes Ali, but there’s just something about her that Satoru doesn’t like… Unfortunately, relationships can’t be perfect.

“Just one more!” She claims, making Satoru click his tongue. No matter what he says, Ali won’t put the phone down. 

“Thank you for joining us. I would’ve sworn that at this point you’d be sick of us.” Satoru says as he passes you a sandwich. You laugh.

The only reason you joined was because you thought you’d be spending time alone with Ali. It’s rare to catch her alone nowadays since she’s usually with Satoru. It shouldn’t have surprised you to find out that the picnic was with Satoru; you weren’t even annoyed when you found it, as a matter of fact, you were happy to find out he was tagging along.

“Oh she’d never betray us, she’s like our loyal pet.” Ali comments, and you feel your face get warm of embarrassment. You can’t help but feel ashamed by her comment. 

“Ali, apologize.” Satoru quickly tells her as a frown comes to her face. She crosses her arms, before asking,

“Why should I apologize?”

“It’s fin–” You begin but Satoru cuts you off. He’s not going to let her words slide. 

“Because what you said was rude, she’s your best friend.” He’s getting upset about this, his tone of voice giving it away. Ali scoffs, not seeing anything wrong with her words. Why should she apologize when it isn’t a lie?

“You said it, she’s my best friend. I know her better than you do and I know that she’s fine with it.” She argues, and you’re almost praying for the ground to open and swallow you whole. Being here is already weird enough, but to watch them argue? You swear this is the last time you tag along without asking Ali about all the details.

“Do you not see how rude that is? You invited her, she didn’t beg to tag along.” He points out, which makes her roll her eyes. “You’re the one that usually invites her, you can’t say that about someone that never asks to join.”

“Fine!” She shouts, giving up. It usually means that she doesn’t have a counterargument. Additionally, if the argument escalates further then Satoru might just cancel the trip that they have for the weekend. She looks directly at you and forces herself to say, “I’m sorry for calling you our loyal pet.”

“It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean anything rude by it.” You reassure her, feeling completely and utterly embarrassed by this whole situation. Ali gives Satoru a weird look before she grabs herself something to snack on. 

Things begin to change between you and Ali, and it’s all your fault. You’re refusing to hang out with her because you know that Satoru is going to be there. It’s not that you dislike him, on the contrary, you think he’s the perfect man for your best friend. But you can’t help but feel like there’s a weird dynamic whenever you’re third-wheeling. 

Luckily, Ali doesn’t seem to notice that you’re distant. She’s too preoccupied with Satoru. You’re more than fine with it, as long as you don’t have to explain yourself.

It does kind of suck that you’re barely seeing her since you can’t ask for a small favor. Taking the bus is not the end of the world, but waiting for it while it’s raining is an annoyance to say the least. It’ll take at least five more minutes for the bus to come by. Your car just had to break down during the rainiest time of the month. 

You’re watching all the cars go by, eyes focusing on a sports car that is all too similar to Satoru’s. It’s not an usual car to find in the area, so you don’t assume it’s Satoru– Not until the car pulls up at the bus stop and the window rolls down.

“Do you need a ride home?” You hear his voice before your eyes land on him. You bite down your lip as you look around the place. You really want to turn Satoru’s offer down, but the bus is nowhere near and the rain is not stopping any time soon. 

“Yeah.” You end up accepting, opening the car’s door. You do have an umbrella, but it can only do so much against the heavy rain. You apologize for getting his car all wet as you get in, and he assures you that it’s fine.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking the bus?” Satoru asks as he begins to drive. As you open your mouth to answer, he speaks again, “Granted, we haven’t been seeing each other much.”

You chuckle. He turns on the heating, noticing that you’re shivering the moment you get into the car. He picks up on the small details and you hate it. You’re truly happy for Ali, but you hate that Satoru makes you feel so wonderful.

Perhaps the reason why you’re distancing yourself doesn’t have to do much with them but rather yourself. You’re slowly seeing Satoru in a different light and you could never forgive yourself.

“I don’t want to be a burden. I can imagine you’re sick of me.” You comment, attempting to pass it off as a joke when a laugh escapes your lips. He doesn’t find the humor in it. 

“I miss you! When you’re not around Ali’s phone is all over me.” He jokes, and while you’d usually laugh, you can’t. His words weigh heavy on your heart. Why the hell would he tell you that he misses you? Does he not know what that does to a woman? “There’s a new dessert shop opening up soon, we should go there soon.”

He’s gotten to know you too well, that’s why you’re avoiding them. He’s Ali’s boyfriend, you’re overstepping a boundary. As a matter of fact, you shouldn’t be in his car. You feel awkward next to him– As if your heart was about to beat out of your chest. Your stomach churns every time that you look at him.

You frown as you look at him, suddenly feeling nauseous. You’ve come to a sudden realization. But no, it can’t be. No no no no no! You refuse to accept it.

“Hey, are you okay?” Satoru questions when he realizes the frown on your face as you stare at him. “Did I do something? Are you mad?”

“No, you’re fine! I just swore I saw something on your window.” You try to play it off, which he thankfully believes. You’re not in the mood to explain to him what you’re thinking of.

How awkward would it be to explain to him that you have a crush on him? Telling your best friend’s boyfriend about your weird feelings is the last thing you want to do. 

You were planning on avoiding Satoru and Ali like the plague, but you started overthinking. Wouldn’t they notice something is up with you if you constantly ignore them? So you keep things to a minimum with the pretense that you don’t want to cut in. It’s nearly impossible to almost always avoid them, considering Satoru is almost always at your place.

You find yourself outside your apartment more often than usual. You’ve come to learn their schedule, and you’ve started to run errands whenever Satoru is around the apartment. It just never occurred to you that Satoru wasn’t abiding by a schedule, and that you’d bump into each other elsewhere.

You freeze in the middle of the grocery store when Satoru calls out your name. You curse yourself and pray that Ali is with him. You don’t want to find yourself alone with Satoru– You wouldn’t act out on your crush, but you still don’t feel comfortable at the thought of being alone with him. 

“Hey, Satoru… What are you doing here?” The terrible question leaves your lips as you turn around to face him. Why else would he be here? He’s a human, he needs to get groceries to survive. 

“Just getting some stuff for tonight. You’re coming to the dinner party, right?” Satoru questions, and you raise your eyebrow. You have no idea what he’s talking about. But instead of questioning him further, you simply shake your head. He sighs, “Ali insisted we host something for my birthday.”

“Oh, is it your birthday?” You ask.

“In the next couple of days.” He answers. “I thought Ali would invite you.”

“If I’m invited then her other influencer friends get jealous.” You remind him, and he clicks his tongue. They’re all so superficial, he’d much rather have you around over them.

“I already feel the headache coming on.” He jokes, making a low chuckle leave your lips. You begin to walk through the aisles, and the man walks by your side. He’s unknowingly complimenting you, which makes you want to drop to your knees.

“I really don’t know why she’d invite them and not you? I’d love to have you around, but them…” He says, and you laugh. You almost laugh at his every word, it’s a dead giveaway; but Satoru doesn’t notice. At least you think he doesn’t.

“Some of them are nice!” You tell him, but he’s not too sure that your words will uphold. Sure, they might be nice but they’ll all be too focused about themselves. They’re more than likely very similar to Ali– Which isn’t a bad thing, but sometimes Ali can only think about herself.

“Right.” He scoffs. You notice that he’s not picking up anything while he walks alongside you, making you wonder if he’s done with shopping. Or perhaps he’s simply forgotten that he’s here to shop.

“Are you done?” You ask him, and he looks back into his basket. He doesn’t even have half of the stuff he came here for. 

“Shit…” He mutters, realizing he has to go through all of the aisles again. He pats your back before telling you, “Alright, I’ll leave you.”

“Bye, Satoru.” You wave at him as he begins to walk away. There’s a stupid smile on your face as you stare at him. A smile that quickly fades away when you remember that Satoru is Ali’s boyfriend.

“Alright, you have to be nice. We’re meeting his friends.” Ali tells you as she uses her phone camera to check her makeup. She wants to make the best impression on her boyfriend’s friends. 

“I’m always nice.” You tell her, as the elevator takes you up to Satoru’s penthouse. It’s the first time you’re invited to his place, and you wonder how it looks. Is it cold and empty? Or is it welcoming? Considering he’s almost always at your place, you’ve already made your conclusions.

“These are like his very close friends so you know things are getting serious.” Ali comments, making sure that you remember how her and Satoru are an item. There’s not a second in the day where she’s not reminding everyone. It’s almost as if she doesn’t believe it herself that she’s with Satoru.

“Things are going to go great, Ali. Don’t worry about it.” You reassure her, and she takes a deep breath. The elevator doors open, and you grab her hand to comfort her, giving it a light squeeze. You step into the penthouse, looking around the place. It’s empty, just like you imagined it– Sure, it has furniture but it just feels empty.

“They’re in the kitchen.” Ali points to where she hears the laughter. You follow her to the kitchen, noticing that the laughter dies down the moment she enters the room.

Satoru walks to her side, taking her hand into his own as he faces his friends. He grins before he tells them, “Suguru, Shoko, this is my girlfriend, Ali.”

“Hi, Ali.” Suguru smiles, waving at the woman. Shoko doesn’t exactly greet her, but she does try to smile at her with a subtle wave.

“Hi, guys! It’s so lovely to meet you!” She acts as if she’s known them all of her life, going over to them and hugging them. Her hug isn’t rejected, but it isn’t necessarily well received. 

You awkwardly stand by the door, feeling completely out of place. Ali came to you with the pretense that she needed you for moral support, and you couldn’t just reject her; right now you’re mad at your decision though. Your weekend plans are ruined. 

“And this is,” Satoru introduces you to his friends as well, when Ali is done giving out her awkward hug. You wave at his friends, not as confident as Ali to go to them and hug them.

“So nice to meet you.” Shoko finally speaks, earning you a side-eye from Ali. You don’t notice it, instead you focus on Satoru’s best friends.

“I love your shirt, Shoko.” You comment, and she thanks you as she looks down.

“Do you listen to them?” She asks you, and you nod in response. It leads to a conversation about your favorite songs, a conversation that Suguru chimes into. Ali can’t join in since she doesn’t know the band, therefore she can’t add anything useful.

Ali feels left out, and she hates that feeling. Therefore, she’ll force herself into the mix

“You know who I love!” She begins, only for Shoko to coldly look back at her. Shoko raises her eyebrow, and Ali begins to speak. An artist that’s completely unrelated to the initial genre; frankly, someone that isn’t well liked around the room. 

An awkward silence ensues when Ali stops talking, which makes Satoru intervene. The man clears his throat before speaking, “How about we go to the living room?” 

To which you all agree to.

Conversation flows smoothly when you’re speaking to Suguru and Shoko. You expected to feel left out for the entire night, but surprisingly you get along fine with the duo. You can’t help but notice that Ali’s being left out, so every now and then you ask her a question that fits into the conversation. However, she doesn’t have much to offer.

“So what do you do?” Shoko asks you as she cuddles up to Suguru on the couch. You’re sitting on the floor, watching as the couples begin to snuggle up. It’s getting colder in the penthouse, so rightfully they’re seeking warmth.

“I’m a tech analyst. I occasionally work with Satoru’s company!” You share. “I’ve been to it maybe a handful of times.”

“Is it fun?” She questions and you laugh, which answers her question. “At least it’s a real job.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, and Shoko chuckles, shaking her head. She refuses to answer, though it should be clear she’s talking about Ali. 

You look around the living room, watching as Shoko and Suguru snuggle up, as well as Ali and Satoru. You don’t feel as awkward as you should be since you’re used to this sort of thing. It isn’t the first and it won’t be the last time that Ali invites you to something for couples only. 

“Awh, look at you. You look so lonely.” Ali takes a pitiful tone as she speaks to you, and suddenly a weird shame consumes you.

“What are you even saying? She’s with us.” Shoko immediately defends you, taking a harsh tone as she looks at Ali. “She doesn’t need a significant other.”

“Right, all a partner does is–” Suguru begins, which earns him a quick glare from Shoko. He bites down his tongue, deciding to not get himself in trouble. Suguru ends up clearing his throat before saying, “At least she’s making interesting conversation.”

“It’s getting late!” Satoru chimes in, not wanting to escalate things further. He quickly picks up on the fact that Shoko doesn’t like Ali, and he feels like Ali reciprocates that feeling. “I’m sleepy.”

“He’s kicking us out, Shoko.” Suguru says, sticking his tongue out at Satoru. The couple stands up, and you awkwardly remain on the floor. You regret accepting Ali’s proposal of staying the night. 

“Aren’t you busy tomorrow? I don’t want you to be too tired for your plans.” Satoru tries to make it seem as if he isn’t kicking them out, when in reality he is. He doesn’t want things to escalate, and Suguru can tell which is why he doesn’t say anything else. 

“Right, busy. Sunday morning. We’re going to church or whatever you do.” Suguru says as he’s led to the elevator by Satoru. 

You take a quick look at Ali, seeing the upset look in her face. You’d usually comfort her, but you know that she isn’t in the mood for comfort. She needs a moment alone, which is why you stand up.

“I’m going to sleep.” You tell her, trying to smile at her. She simply hums, not even looking in your direction. 

You wake up earlier than usual, unable to sleep for longer since the room you’re sleeping in isn’t your own. It’s odd, considering that the bed you lay on is the most comfortable bed you’ve ever touched. Last night’s events weigh heavy on your mind, contributing to the lack of sleep. You wonder if Ali is still upset with you, or if the sleep has cooled her off.

You get up from bed, and get out as quietly as possible. You don’t want to make a loud noise and wake up the happy couple– Although you doubt that any noise will reach them from how big the penthouse is.

A big yawn escapes your lips as you walk to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee. You freeze when you enter the kitchen and bump into Satoru. Your eyes widen when you realize he’s shirtless. 

“Oh!” You can’t help but exclaim, as your eyes look him up and down. He’s only wearing gray sweatpants. Your face is turning hot, feeling almost like a complete virgin. You make eye contact with him, and the man looks at you utterly surprised.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly apologizes, and you dramatically turn around. He’s just shirtless, it’s not the end of the world. But you swear you took a peek at his underwear. 

“No, it’s your home. You’re okay.” You trip over your words as your hands cover your face. He notices that your reaction is a tad bit dramatic. He won’t judge you for it, you have your reasons to react the way you do.

Before Satoru can utter another word, you’re out of the kitchen. Satoru furrows his eyebrows, as his eyes land on the box of macaroons that you got him for his birthday. Ali simply a watch, one that he already had in his collection. You took note of what he liked and went out of your way to get it for him. 

It dawns on him. The reason why you reacted the way you did is because you like him. Luckily, Ali is asleep so she won’t notice a thing.

“Satoru, what are you doing?” You ask before he cups your face and kisses your lips. He’s kissing you so hungrily. He’s full of passion, as if he’s been waiting for this moment for a long time. 

When did he get into your room?

“I need you.” He tells you between kisses, his hands going under your nightgown. He’s getting risky. Where did all of this come from? One moment he was cuddling up with Ali and then the next he’s kissing you as if you were his. You should fight back since you know it’s wrong, but your body melts.

You can’t do anything as Satoru kisses you, except give in. His lips move lower, going to your neck as his hands go higher. Before you know it, he’s playing with your panties. He teases your pussy, and you feel your breath get caught up in your chest as he gets more risky.

“We shouldn’t, Satoru.” Your voice is barely audible, easy to slip past his ears. You won’t repeat yourself because you don’t want him to stop. 

He pushes your panties to the side, two fingers running through your folds. His fingers press against your clit, nearly making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s sucking on your neck, on that sweet spot that makes you weak. He already knows his body as if it were his own.

“Oh–” You gasp as he pushes a finger inside of you. You can’t believe this is happening– Oh how wrong is it? Poor Ali. But guilt isn’t the most prominent feeling in your mind, which means it’s ignored. A second finger quickly follows, and you swear you’re in heaven.

“I need you so badly.” He sounds breathless, utterly desperate. He curves his fingers, hitting just the right spot. You moan his name, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth. You don’t remember if Ali is nearby or not, but you don’t want to risk it.

His thumb is playing with your clit, feeling your whole body turn to putty. You can’t stop now. You need to feel him in every possible sense. 

“Please…” You mutter, your body craving more. You can’t use your words, it simply makes things wrong. He reads your mind, pulling away and taking his shirt off. You can’t help but run your hands down his well toned torso. This is so wrong but you can’t bring yourself to stop.

Your hand reaches the waistband of his sweatpants, biting down your lip before you pull down. That’s where you lose control again, Satoru taking charge.

“Just relax, okay? I’ll take good care of you.” Satoru tells you as he puts you on your stomach, facing away from him. He fully lifts up your nightgown to get a good look at your ass. He slaps your ass before running the tip of his cock through your folds.

He slowly pushes himself in, and you bury your head into your pillow. You can’t make a noise as his thick cock fills you up. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as he bottoms out. 

“Can you handle it, pretty girl?” He asks, giving you a moment to adjust to him. Your answer comes out muffled by the pillow, but luckily he can understand the yes that leaves your lips. He begins to move slowly.

Why is this happening? Not that you’re complaining. Guilt will eat you alive later, but you’re living in the moment. How could you not live in the moment when Satoru is fucking you?

“You feel so good.” Satoru moans, and you can’t hold yourself back on being as enthusiastic as he is. He’s hitting all the right spots, making your body feel euphoric. 

You’re too in your head that you almost miss that the door opens– The door opens?! You immediately know it’s her, and you can’t stop. How will you explain it to her? No, no no no no! You seriously can’t be doing this to your best friend.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” You hear, and suddenly she’s shaking your body. Your mind is snapped out of your subconscious when she yells, “Ew! You’re drooling!”

Your eyes slowly open, and you feel the guilt pit in your stomach when you realize you were having a dream about your best friend’s boyfriend. A very explicit dream to say the least. 

“Ali, what do you need?” You question with a raspy voice, clearly just woken up from a very fantastic dream. No, not fantastic. A bad dream.

“You went to sleep really early last night. Don’t you think it’s time to wake up?” She reminds you. You remember getting home from Satoru’s place, and heading straight to your room. You spent all day in bed yesterday, almost as if you had a cold. “Plus, you told me you’d cook for me for my diet!”

“Oh, right… I forgot.” You respond, your hand wiping the sweat on your forehead. You look her up and down and ask, “Why are you going on a diet again!”

“It’s essential that I maintain my figure! I make a living out of this, you know?” She answers, and you give her a subtle nod. She ends up leaving your room to wait for her breakfast patiently.

A sigh leaves your lips, the tough reminder that you’re not only in charge of dinner anymore but breakfast and lunch as well. You’ll do it for her though, she’s your best friend.

You bounce your leg as you sit near Satoru and Ali. The couple snuggles up as they watch a movie. They forced you out of your room and made you join them, but you can’t even focus on the screen. 

Satoru is the first to notice, considering you’re acting weird around him. He keeps looking back at you, wondering when you’ll calm down. You’ve never acted like this around him before… Was the shirtless incident that bad? 

He gets that you like him, but you don’t have to be so tense and nervous all the time. He won’t try a thing, he’s not that kind of guy.

“Do you want some popcorn?” Satoru extends the bowl towards you, and Ali immediately shushes him. She acts as if she can’t rewind ten seconds to hear what she missed.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You awkwardly smile at him before quickly looking away. You won’t even dare to look him in the eye. You end up standing up from your seat, telling the couple, “I’m not feeling too well–”

“Just go.” Ali interrupts you, not caring too much that you want to go back to your room. It was Satoru’s bright idea to invite you along. She won’t mention it to him, but it’s annoying that he wants you to include you in almost everything.

Ali pauses the movie when your door closes, looking at it and then back at Satoru, “She’s acting weird.”

“What do you mean? She just looks tired to me.” Satoru acts confused. He knows Ali enough to know that the woman has a tad bit of a jealousy issue. If he were to tell Ali about his finding, she wouldn’t react in a rational manner. 

They both know that you wouldn’t even dare to make a move on Satoru, but that won’t change a thing. Which is why Satoru chooses to bite his tongue.

“I don’t know. I don’t care too much anyway.” She ends up shrugging, resuming the movie. 

“Happy birthday!” Satoru cheerfully congratulates you the moment he sees you. It took a while considering that you’ve been in your room all day.

“Thank you, Satoru.” You’re a little surprised that the man knows, let alone, went out of his way to congratulate you. You smile at him, as he holds his index finger up.

“I got you something, hold on. It’s in my car.” He practically runs out of the apartment, leaving you to look around the place. Ali is in her room, so you can’t ask her what Satoru got you. 

You feel weird as you wait for him. All you can think about is the dream that you had not too long ago, and guilt fills you up. Ali’s your best friend, you shouldn’t like her boyfriend. You take a deep breath to calm down the mix of emotions that suddenly consume you.

“Here it is.” Satoru comes back, not even a minute later. He holds the pink gift bag, and extends it so you can take it. You thank him, too shy to open the gift in front of him. “I hope things can go back to how they were.”

“Huh?” You question, even though you know exactly what he talks about.

“Things have been weird between us… I don’t know what happened.” He responds, and you’re left speechless. You aren’t sure how to answer. Before you can answer, he signals toward the gift, “Well, aren’t you going to open it?”

“Yeah.” You put the gift bag on the counter and take the tissue paper out before your eyes fall on the gift. You smile, pulling out the wireless headphones. “Thank you, Satoru. These will come in handy.”

“I hope so! I got them when I remembered your job.” He explains, and you can’t help but smile. He finally sees a sincere smile on your face, something that he hadn’t seen in a while. “There’s something else in the bag.”

“Oh?” You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you look inside. There’s a small blue box inside, and you feel your heart skip a beat as you look at it. You feel too self conscious to open it in front of him. “You didn’t have to, Satoru.”

“You’re my friend! Of course I had to.” He claims, signaling you to open the box. You bite down your lip before doing what he wants you to do. Your eyes glimmer at the sight of a beautiful charm bracelet.

“It’s so beautiful!” You exclaim, right when Ali exits the bedroom. She looks at what you hold in your hand, and then at Satoru. “Thank you, Satoru. I love it.”

“It’s no problem. Happy birthday.” Satoru responds, just as Ali’s arms wrap around him. He hugs her back, but his gaze remains on you. “What are you doing tonight? Are you going out?”

“Tomorrow night. I’m not doing anything tonight.” You answer.

“How about we take you to dinner!” He offers, and Ali gives him a cold stare. A stare that goes ignored by him.

“Oh, I don’t know. You’ve done too much.” You awkwardly respond, getting reminded that he’s Ali’s boyfriend as she hugs him. If you didn’t know any better, by the way she acts, you’d say she’s jealous.

“We insist. It’s your birthday.” He replies. “Go get ready, we’ll wait for you here.”

You argue a bit more with him before you finally accept. You go to your room with gifts in hand. When you’re out of sight, Ali can’t help but comment, “Didn’t you do a little much?”

“What do you mean? That’s your friend.” Satoru responds, and she sighs. He ends up letting go of her and asking, “What’s wrong?”

“It feels like you’re putting more thought into her birthday than mine.” She crosses her arms, getting pouty about it. Satoru should’ve known, Ali gets upset when the attention isn’t all on her. He doesn’t like to admit it, but she’s a bit selfish. “You’re doing more for her than what you did for me.”

“I took you overseas and gave you many gifts.” He reminds her, but that’s not enough for her. “Can’t you just be happy for your best friend?”

“Fine.” She clicks her tongue, and she ends up stomping away. She has to get ready.

Your birthday dinner starts off awkward, but it slowly gets better. Overall, you enjoy it. The food is delicious and the company is great. You still can’t help but feel like Ali is upset with you. You’re not sure what you did wrong, but she acts weird. 

She ignores you the next day, or gives you the most basic answers to any question. You wonder if she’s upset with you because Satoru gave you a birthday gift but… How are you at fault for that? It can’t be that. You try to talk to Ali at night, but she’s with Satoru and you don’t want to interrupt anything.

You end up going to bed without speaking to each other. Maybe you’ll patch things up tomorrow before Shoko and Suguru come over. 

You’re woken up by strange sounds in the middle of the night– The sounds seem distant until you listen closely. You furrow your brow, trying to make out the strange noises until you figure out what it is, then you just want to bury your face into your hands out of pure embarrassment.

“Oh, it’s so good, Satoru!” Quickly followed by “Like that! Just like that!”

And as you keep listening to it, you feel tears well up in your eyes. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s guilt because you like the man Ali is in bed with right now; or perhaps it’s because you know that you’ll never be with him.

You sniffle, reaching over for the headphones that Satoru got you and putting them on, deciding to listen to some soothing music to fall back asleep. You’ll listen to just about anything to block out that sound.

[embbarnes]

Goddd sorry this took me so long to reblog! I read this three times and I absolutely adore it. Dofp Logan is one of my favorite eras. I love his attitude and look throughout the film. I was so excited this was the version you went with!!

More below the cut 💕

“Don’t use so much force.” You curse as the tip of the blade impales the target a whopping three inches from the center. By far your worst throw yet, though this one isn’t entirely your fault. You snap your head towards the unexpected but familiar voice, pulling your last dagger from the holster secured around your thigh before chucking it in his general direction. It flies past him, bouncing off the wall behind him. You knew that it wouldn’t actually hit him. And if by some miracle it had, he’d heal in two seconds and then go right back to being a pain in your ass. A good looking pain in your ass, admittedly. But a pain in your ass nonetheless.

This entire bit is perfect. When I was a kid, I had anger management problems. I couldn't really interact with a lot of people because of it so it made socialization hard for me. I really like how you wrote the reader in this one, I can resonate with them.

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

Logan, I hope you know, if I had pyrokinesis...that's the first thing I'm doing.

Thick stubble scratches your innermost thighs as sharp teeth and soft lips alternate between kissing and biting the sensitive flesh between your legs. His face is covered in your slick from the three orgasms he’s already pulled from you with his tongue. He lays nestled between your legs, pinning you to the mattress beneath you. Your thighs rest across his shoulders, his hands splayed across your belly. You're putty in his hands. “I've gotta say, the sounds you make when you cum are way cuter than the sounds I'm used to hearing from you,” Logan muses against your cunt. His voice sends a vibration over your already overstimulated core.

SCREAMING at this part 😍😩 I love, love, LOVE how you describe smut scenes sm.

As you approach the end of the hallway that leads from the team member's bedrooms to the kitchen, you hear the soft shuffling of footsteps and see low lighting that spills from the refrigerator. As soon as you step into the kitchen, you come to a halt. You recognize the large frame standing in front of the open fridge right away. Of fucking course it would be him. And of fucking course he wouldn’t be wearing a shirt.

YES....YESSSSS. I love when things like this happen in fics.

“Of course I’m going, Logan. Whether you think I’m good at it or not, it’s my job.” “It’s not that I don’t think you’re good at your job. It’s about experience—” You laugh, cutting him off. You can feel the telltale warmth of fire beginning to form beneath the tips of your fingers, your irritation threatening to bubble over. “Experience?” you exclaim. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve been with this team for three years now? Just because I’m not two hundred years old like you doesn’t mean that I don’t have experience.”

I'm always a big sucker for love-hate or relationships where the pairing isn't super fond of one another at first. The tension builds so well and I love how you incorporate the mutation with their emotions. Because fire is incredibly emotion-motivated, so these little hints are absolutely perfect.

You start to storm past him, to get away from him and go back to your room without another word, when he grabs you by the wrist. You look at him in bewilderment – this is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has held your hand in his. “Didn’t know you were so hot and bothered over me,” he says with an amused smirk.

This would actually make me so mad if I was already irritated 😭 Logan knows just how to get under her skin lmao

An eerie feeling creeps into your bones as soon as you step onto the hanger of the jet. You can’t deny that the scenery surrounding the military base is beautiful – from the snowcapped mountains to the frost covered lake, it’s picturesque. But then your gaze settles on the large dam, and you remember what lies beneath. “Can't say that I've missed this place,” Logan grunts, drawing your attention to him. His face is impassive other than his mouth being set in a hard, straight line as he stares out towards the water. It's rare for Logan to elicit feelings outside of burning irritation (and maybe, possibly, sometimes arousal) from you – but right now, there’s a part of you that wishes the dynamic between the two of you were different.

I really liked this bit. It begins to show more depth between the reader and Logan. I admire how you can subtly plant these little seeds throughout your fics, it makes them feel more immersive.

“You and Logan are to inspect the basement,” Charles answers. “I trust that you can refrain from melting any antique personal property until we are back at the mansion, my dear,” he adds with a knowing smirk. “I was planning on paying you back for that,” you mumble. “No,” Charles sighs. “You weren't. It was very expensive.”

You know, technically, she could harness the heat to make a new glass from scratch, Charles. I feel like he'd value something made like that. I can imagine the classrooms full of drawings by the children.

“I think I know what this is,” he murmurs. His stare is locked on one of the daggers strapped to your thigh. He squeezes your hand in his, though you don’t know if it’s to comfort you or himself. “I’ve heard of this before. Didn’t know it actually exists. I came across it once when preparing a lesson on Alkali Lake—” “What is it?” you implore. His eyes finally flicker back up to yours. Images of last night’s dream flash through your mind again. Instead of his hand holding yours, you visualize his slender fingers pumping inside you. You stare at his lips, imaging the feeling of them sucking love bites into the meat of your inner thighs – “It’s a chemical created for breeding experiments,” he answers after a pregnant pause. “They – Weapon X – wanted super mutants. Some of the subjects were… less than compliant. This made it so that they weren’t able to fight it.”

This situation is 100% believable. Things like this absolutely happen and you set it up perfectly. I love the approach and how you describe the fog, how it effects her body and makes her feel all the things at once.

“Besides, it’s not like you haven’t dreamed about this. Or were you moaning about someone else who just happens to have the same name as me last night?” Your eyes shoot open at the revelation that not only had you said his name in your sleep, but he’d fucking heard you. And has the nerve to tease you about it at a time like this.

Logan knows how to drive me insane holy shit.

He's smirking down at you. His smugness irritates you often, but right now it’s enough to cause the tips of your fingers to burn hot. You jerk his hand away from your face, causing him to hiss when your fingers wrap around his wrist. He chortles, his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation. The reaction fills you with annoyance – of course he would have a fucking pain kink. As much as it pisses you off, it also spurs you on. Blame the influence of the chemicals that you’re currently under, but the fact that he can so easily tolerate and even enjoy something that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction does something to you.

I can literally see his expression rn.

He rips the fabric of your bra away from your breast, immediately attaching his mouth to your nipple. He rolls it between his tongue and teeth, causing you to arch your back into his touch. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, pinning yourself to the mattress with his body. You mewl at the feeling of your pebbled nipple in his warm mouth. His other hand attempts to free the opposite breast, but the fabric is too tight and restrictive. He let’s out an annoyed growl, pulling back to unsheathe his claws and snip the material in between your tits, letting them spill free.

This would drive me INSANE.

“You don’t want me to suck your dick?” You ask with raised brows. “S’not about me right now, bub. I said I was gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. Now lay back down for me.” You aren’t going to argue with that. You return to your original position on the mattress, pulling him down with you. He hovers above you, using one arm to support himself on the bed. He takes his cock in his free hand, stroking his length a few times before nudging his head through your folds until he’s lubricated in your juices. “Don’t you worry, though,” he murmurs against your lips. He teases his tip at your hole. “If you still wanna suck my dick when we get out of here, I'll let you.” “Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—” He sheaths himself inside you, turning the end of your retort into a gasp. He fills you entirely, stilling to allow both of you time to adjust to the sensation. The stretch is damn near blinding, making your eyes roll back into your skull. You glance down between your bodies, halfway expecting to see him jutting out of your stomach.

Girl you're literally killing me 😭😩

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

The sliver of scent I can get from him ughhh that's such a good combo.

“I said something I didn’t entirely mean yesterday,” he whispers, out of breath. “What?” you ask, sitting upright and looking down at him. “You aren’t going to let me suck your dick?” “No,” he chuckles. “God, no. I meant that. If you still want to, that is—” “What is it, then?” you interrupt with a playful nudge to his chest. “I said you could go back to tolerating my existence. But I hope you wanna do a little bit more than just tolerate me.” You laugh under your breath, leaning down to press your lips to his once more. “I could see myself doing a little bit more than just tolerating you.”

LMAO this was so funny and such a good ending!! I loveeed this fic so much! It was so well done, just like all your other stuff! You did such a good job with the personification of everyone and I loved all the dialogue with reader and Logan.

Perfect, as always 💕

where the lines overlap

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

word count: 8.7k

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

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

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

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

Go to your happy place or whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bullseye.

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

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

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

••••••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

••••••

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

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

You're putty in his hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

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

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

••••••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not pretend—”

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

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

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

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

You’re met with white noise.

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

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

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

Nothing indeed.

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

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

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” you implore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up and eat me out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You aren’t going to argue with that.

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

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

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

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

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

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

“Right,” you murmur.

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

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

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

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

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[no-144444]

famous or not- c.sainz

summary: everything falls apart?

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! actor! reader

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It wasn’t the plan for everything to fall apart, but that’s just kind of what happened… 

For the first few months, everything between you two had been great. Carlos adored you, treated you like a princess, and you did the same to him. Your relationship was full of romantic dates, cozy nights in, and various trips to races to support. 

Then, he stopped returning your calls, stopped answering your messages, and really only came to you for one thing. He was stressed, you knew it. The new season had just started and he’d been struggling to out-pace Alex, let alone get in the points. You gave him grace. You gave him time. 

That was until Miami. He’d gotten in the points. He’d out-performed Alex. He’d done it. So you went out. And half way through the night you lost him, and just stayed with the other girls instead. When you woke up, you were not expecting to see photos of your boyfriend tonguing another girl. You called him, you texted him, you did everything. 

Still, no response. 

You didn’t go to the next 3 races. You left him alone, assuming you both knew you two weren’t together anymore (especially considering the fact that you explicitly told him you two were done), and you moved on with your life. Did it hurt? Yes. Were you going to let the world know that? No. 

It all kicked up again after a damn interview on the red carpet of your new film. 

“What about your alleged boyfriend Carlos Sainz? Is he here tonight?” 

You laughed. “Oh him? We were just fucking, nothing too interesting there.” 

It was meant to be a throw-away comment. He wasn’t even meant to care. 

But then he was standing in your hallway with a hardened look on his face, and you gulped. 

“Hi,” you smiled politely. “Nice to see you again.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a premiere,” he said, his voice low, warning. 

“We’re not together,” you shrugged, putting your coat away. “I didn’t think you’d need to know.”

He scoffed. “Who says we’re not together?”

“Me,” you answered plainly. 

“You don’t just get to-”

“Oh, I do though. You didn’t respond to me for weeks, Carlos. There’s photos of you kissing other girls, and guess what, I’m not just going to be your girlfriend for the weekends and let you off because you’re an F1 driver,” you scoffed. “You can go now. We’re done.” 

“Baby, what? They don’t matter, and even if they did, I only want you. Sometimes… things happen, and we don’t mean them to,” he shrugged, trying to get closer to you, but you just walked further into your home. 

“I’m not one of the girls that let those things ‘just happen’, Carlos. If you’re with me, you’re with me. Not some random groupie, not some girl you’ve just met, me. Now, please leave.”

He grabbed your arm. “Come on, you enjoyed being my WAG so much-”

“If you’re only doing this to get Williams more popularity, I suggest you fuck off,” You cursed, grabbing your arm out of his hand.

“You’re not famous enough for that anyway,” he mumbled. 

“Oh! So now I’m not famous enough for you? Pick one, you dick,” you laughed, your blood boiling as he continued insulting you. 

“Cariño, calm down,” he said, and there was silence. Mostly because your jaw was dropped at his fucking audacity. “You must admit, I did have a hand in making you more… popular.” 

You laughed in his face. Angrily and loud. “Go fuck yourself! Oh my god, the sun actually doesn’t shine out of your arsehole, though I know James has made you believe that! I am far more famous than you are, because you’ll always just be the guy that Lewis Hamilton replaced.”

You were both quiet. You’d hit a nerve. 

“Well that’s…” he trailed off. “I’ll see myself out.”

And that was that. He never bothered you again. 

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williams & merc masterlist (omfg it's so weird to write that ew)

navigation for my blog :)

[stxrslutrestored]

love him back 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

starring; gg!rafe cameron x gossipsweetheart!reader

synopsis; being caught by gossip girl forces you and rafe to have a very hard conversation about what you actually are, and when talking doesn’t work, there’s really only one other option

content;  fighting, oral (f receiving)

authors note; first gg blurb! super exited to debut this au

you can’t believe it. you can’t believe gossip girl caught you. you’d been so careful to make sure nobody else knew that you and rafe were back together again. but all it had took was one stupid stupid drunk night out and a quickie in the car to reveal everything. 

rafe is on his way, he’d told you as much in a rushed text message fifteen minutes ago which means he’s here any second. 

anxiety rises in your chest. because as well as the embarrassment and humiliation the post that this godforsaken website has made is going to force you and rafe to face the question that both of you have been avoiding for the past few weeks of meaningless sex. 

do you love each other again? 

you hear him walking through the house and up to your room. he doesn’t bother to knock before entering your room. 

his face is hard and angry, in contrast to yours which is streaked with tears and snot. he sighs when he sees you, coming up and standing over you where you’re sitting on your bed.

you look up to him, “why are you so angry,” you ask sadly, “It’s not like I sent the tip.” 

he looks up, “I’m not angry at you.” he shakes his head, “I’m angry at this… this whole thing.” he throws his phone to the bed where it’s open on gossip girls page. 

you sniffle, “if you hadn’t insisted on having sex in the car—” you start, but he cuts you off. 

“no. no don’t you fuckin’ pin this on me.” he points to his chest, “I only insisted on fucking you because you were.. were leaning me on all night.” 

you scoff through tears, hands falling to your lap, “leading you on? you think I’m leading you on?” you shake your head, “you’re unbelievable rafe!” 

you stand up, coming a little closer to him, he takes one step back. “am I? am I unbelievable?” he raises his voice “because this whole fucking time I’m here trying to guess what the fuck you’re thinking I— I mean do you actually wanna be with me? huh? or is this just… just some sex to you?” 

you shake your head, “like you care,” you shake your head, “like you’ve ever put any effort into our relationship!”

he grasps your arms and pulls you close, “you were the one who broke up with me. I had nothing to do with that.” 

“ever stopped to think about why I broke up with you? rafe you’re crazy.” you gesture to him as you make the accusation and he scoffs. 

“crazy. yeah maybe i am crazy.” he looks up and sighs, “maybe it’s you that makes me crazy.” he looks back at you, and there’s something else in his eyes now. it’s small, just an inkling of sadness, pleading. so barely noticeable, but you know rafe well enough to see it crystal clear. 

you look down, and then back up at him, your own gaze changing. there’s a moment of tangible silence but then rafe steps forwards, gripping your hips and pulling you up, immediately locking lips with you in a kiss. a kiss full of passion that you think you’ve never felt from him. 

you kiss back, hands coming to wrap around his neck. you let out a small moan and he returns one. you’re stumbling backwards towards the bed, feelings of anger and aggression suddenly replaced with intense erotic passion. 

the backs of your legs hit the bed and you fall onto your back, rafe bends over with you, not breaking the kiss. his hands start to run down your body, first your chest, then your torso, and then his hands are on your hips, pushing up the skirt of your nightdress. 

his fingers hook your panites, pulling them down so that your  pussy is bare and ready for him and whatever he plans to do. he pulls away finally, breathing heavily, “c’mon,” he breathes, whispering your name, “say it.” he tells you, “tell me you love me. love me back.” 

you look up to him, eyes wide and full of that infatuation that you’ve been trying so hard to deny. in this moment you just can’t say no, and so you say those three words instead. “I love you rafe.” it feels like the most natural sentence you’ve ever said, yet it surprises both you and rafe when it actually comes out your mouth.

the shock only lasts for a second though, before you know it, rafe’s head is dipping back down and kissing on your neck, big, open mouthed kisses that leave you breathless. with learned skill he begins to lower down your body. 

first he spends minutes on your chest, skilling and licking and sucking marks into and in between your boobs. then he goes down even more. hands running down over your night dress as he kneels down beside the bed, making his head level with your pussy in between your now spread legs. 

“fuck youre soaked,” he brehates out. you’re looking up to the ceiling but you can tell exactly what expression is on his face. cheeks flushed and lips parted, hair all messy in that way that makes him ten times hotter. 

first he starts to touch your pussy, his hands pushing through your folds like it’s the first time he’s ever touched you. it’s slow and gentle and careful, in such contrast to the way that rafe normally treats you. 

then he’s leaning forward and he’s eating you out, licking through your folds with an open mouth and sucking on your clit. rafe doesn’t eat you out much, barely ever actually, but when he does it feels so good!

you moan, hands coming down to tangle in his hair while he pleasures you. you moan out, “oh rafe!” you cry, “I love you! I love you so much!” you throw your head back as you experience this. even though he doesn’t say the words, you know that rafe has the same sentiment. that this is his way of telling you that he loves you. 

he loves you and you love him. there’s no doubt about it. despite the rocky road that you and rafe have been on and the complete denial of any feelings for months, it’s all come to a front now that that silly little internet post has forced you to face your feelings. this is it, you can love him back. 

[cherry-smokes]

Don’t you want me baby?

AKA Steve doesn’t want you to meet his parents and you start spiraling Pairing: Steve Harrington x bassist!reader Word count: 1.2K Warnings: hurt/comfort because Steve is just too into Sugar to let her hurt too long.

You’ve always known you weren’t a ‘bring home to the parents’ kind of girl. Frankly you took a lot of pride in it. At the end of the day you didn’t want to meet the people who created the assholes you’ve dated before. Them not offering just took the pressure off your shoulders. Relationships were always just a fleeting, sometimes fun thing. Most guys got bored after realizing they prefer to be the rockstar instead of the groupie.

You’ve denied yourself the desire for love for a long time. It didn’t feel tangible before. So why would you plague yourself with the disappointment of not being enough for someone. It was easier to live that way.

Steve made you feel different. Steve made you feel like that part of you which you had locked away for so long finally had a space to run free. That you weren’t an idiot for thinking that there truly was someone out there who would love you unconditionally. It feels too soon to say that but you couldn’t stop the freight train that was Steve Harrington from crashing into the brick wall you had built around your heart.

That’s probably why this all hurts so much.

It hadn’t even felt like a big deal to you at the time.

“I could just meet you at your place?”

“Oh…no, no I’ll come pick you up.”

“You always pick me up, let me drive. I wanna take care of you this time.” it came out teasingly. With that goddamn smile that made Steve’s knees buckle and his heart beat so strong he could feel it all the way up to his shoulders.

“No just- I’ll pick you up”

“Do you think I’m a bad driver or something?”

He chuckled at that. “Considering the fact that Eddie taught you to drive, I’m doubtful of your abilities.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve never gotten a single ticket. So you should let me treat my pretty boy to a night out and let me make him my passenger princess for once.”You grab his face and kiss him sweetly. Teeth against teeth as you both smile, but his fades faster than yours does.

“My parents are home this weekend, you don’t want deal with them.”

“Who said I didn’t want to deal with them?”

“They’re a lot.”

“Well, so am I.”

“I just think it’s better if I pick you up, yeah?”

You’ve never had a smile wiped off your face so fast. You nod and lean away from him.

“Sure, whatever you want.”

Steve makes you feel…soft. Had it been any other guy this would have never bothered you, but Steve wasn’t any other guy. He was someone you had grown to really care for. Someone you actually saw a future with, or wanted to at least. So him not wanting you to meet his parents felt like a bad omen.

If we’re closer to your family, physically and in any other sense, you would have introduced Steve to them in a heart beat. The closest thing you had to that was Eddie and the guys, and Steve had already met them.

So yeah. This was a pretty big fucking deal to you. You know the kind of girls he’s dated before. Prim and proper. The kind of girls who go on to be beauty queens or valedictorians. That never bother you before, but now you’re thinking about every reason why he wouldn’t want you to meet his folks.

Your reputation isn’t…polished. You’re abrasive, and overwhelming to some people. You hang out with ‘freaks’ and you make a living off of playing in dive bars and bartending. None of that really screams ‘life long partner.’

Maybe that’s what he’s looking for. Maybe you’re just a stepping stone for him. Some crazy story he can tell his Wall Street friends one day when he finally decides to give into his father’s wishes.

You wish all of this wasn’t running through your mind right now. Sat on your couch with Steve’s arm around you. You feel tense. Like you don’t really fit next to him. It’s been this way all night. At dinner, in the car, even at the door step to your apartment when he asked if you wanted to watch a movie instead of calling it a night.

You know what’s coming. He’s too attentive to not notice. You’ve seen how he’s cowered into himself all night and the way his eyebrows have drawn together as you brush off his affection.

You don’t want to be cruel, but you get mean when you’re hurt. You’ve never known anything else. You wish you knew a better way to deal with it but you don’t and you can’t look at this man who makes you burn and lie to him like you have to others.

So when he asks you what’s wrong you can’t bring yourself to say it’s nothing.

“Are you ashamed to be with me?”

You feel it then. His arm tenses up and it moves away from around your shoulders as he leans back to look at you.

“What?”

“I know you heard me don’t make me repeat myself.”

He looks genuinely confused. Like he can’t understand why you’re asking this.

“Why would I be ashamed of you?”

“I don’t know Steve, you tell me.”

He looks you dead in the eyes. The weight of his gaze makes you feel heavy, like you’re sinking into yourself.

“I’m not ashamed of you I l-you know how I feel about you.”

You want to believe him. You want to so badly. You want to nod and agree and curl into his side so he’ll kiss your neck and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you forget every horrible thing that’s ever happened to you both. But you can’t.

“You don’t want me to meet your parents.”

“No. I don’t.”

He’s like one of those Greek statues you see in museums. Gorgeous, and strong. The way he says it is…steadfast. One of the loveliest things about Steve is that he is stubborn…now it feels like one of the worst.

You don’t want to cry in front of him. You don’t want embarrass yourself so you choke it down like everything else and turn towards your television screen.

“Ok then.”

You rack through your brain trying to decide if you want to kick him out kicking and screaming or just let him go on his own. Before you can decide, his hand is on your face and he’s turning you towards him. His grip on your chin is tender but strong. Just like him.

“I can see those gears turning in your head. It’s not because I’m ashamed of you.”

Your eye twitches like it always does when you’re confused. He fucking adores it.

“You’re stubborn, and loud, and probably too honest for your own good. You’re…vulgar, and brilliant and you drive me fucking insane and you’re too goddamn good for my parents. They wouldn’t know what to do with you, I don’t know what to do with you but I’m so fucking thankful you’re letting me figure it out. I just want to keep you to myself so I can woo you long enough to not run away when you do meet them.”

Your bottom lip trembles. You’re thankful he doesn’t point out the quiver in your voice when you finally speak up.

“I’m not that stubborn.”

His smile is golden. You let him drag you into him as he presses his lips against yours. You want to savor it and keep him there forever but you can’t stop his hand moving from your chin and grabbing at your hair as he pulls your head back so he can he trail sweet pecks against your cheek and down your neck.

“Whatever you say Sugar.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tiny little angsty blurb for you guys<3

[princesssukunalover]

Partition

Nanami Kento realises his grave mistake of pushing his wife away. He'll do anything and everything to get her back.

Part 1

CW: Nanami lowkey being miserable, angst, mentions of divorce.

Part 2 of 5

wc: 1051

It starts off with remorseful gifts at your door and it's obvious who they are from. You refuse to even acknowledge your ex husband’s futile efforts to apologise. And after 2 weeks, when the entry to your apartment becomes cluttered with flowers in colours that you don’t even like, chocolates so full of sugar that you wouldn’t even lick them and cards that you don’t bother to open, you finally decide that you’ve had enough. You’ve had enough of Nanami’s weak attempts to win you back. Surely, 6 months ago you would have been gratified to even receive a single rose, picked from a bush on his way home from work, or any gesture that made you feel valued. But it took you less than a year until you asked yourself, ‘If he could not speak, would you still love him for his actions?’ And it took you less than a minute to realise that there were simply no actions that Nanami had done during your union that could prove that he truly loves his wife.

-

As Nanami is about to enter Jujutsu High for an important meeting, he is stopped by the abrupt buzzing of his phone. “I’ll be inside in 5 minutes.” He tells Gojo, who waves him off and goes inside the building, leaving the tall blonde alone. His heart stops for a moment, staring at his phone as your name appears on the screen. He answers it way too quickly. Nanami doesn’t speak. He waits to hear the sweet voice that he’s missed for these past few months. “Kento..” You start. He responds, calling your name. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.” He tells you. “And I wanted to keep it that way, Kento.” You sigh, causing his heart to drop in sorrow. He tries to talk but you cut him off. “Stop sending me these gifts. I want nothing to do with you.” You tell your ex husband. “I’m sorry.” Is all that Nanami can utter. “I mean seriously, did you think that some cheap chocolate, a waste of paper and roses that die in 3 days can undo the feeling of being neglected by the person you love most?” You question. “Is that all you think I am worth?!” You accuse him, starting to get angry and even a little embarrassed. Nanami answers quickly.

“No.. I know that wasn’t enough and I would never think that it’s all you were worth. You are worth everything to me. And I really never showed you how much I love you. I promise I won’t let it happen again-” You cut him off. “Kento, just stop. There’s no ‘again’. There’s no salvaging this. It’s over. You treated me like shit for most of our marriage, and now that you're gone, I’m doing better, Kento. I have a life now. I have a career.” You begin to explain how much your life has improved since the divorce, which he painfully listens to, the hole in his heart widening with each sentence. “It’s over.. Nanami.” You repeat before the call ends. Your ice cold tone haunts him; not because of the cruel manner that you’re speaking to him; not because you don’t bother address him by his first name; but it’s because in his soul, he knows that at some point in your marriage, he spoke to you in such a manner, and in his soul, there remains nothing but guilt and self hatred, for allowing him to lose the love of his life. 

-

Life for Nanami resumes after one or two months. His mansion that was once littered with empty takeout boxes is now looking cleaner these days. He’s built up a routine that distracts him from the sorrows of life. He spends his evenings alone, cooking meals that lack love and warmth, but it keeps him fed and alive, so he doesn’t give a damn. He spends his mornings working out on the floor of his cold living room, the same living room where you would make love together in the early start of your relationship. He ignores the pain in his muscles as he abuses them with every added kilogram of weight. It’s incomparable to the pain which he feels when he takes a glimpse of the wedding photos on his fridge that he refuses to get rid of. His friends wonder if he is some kind of masochist, who needs a constant reminder of the mistakes that he has made.

Every once in a while, Kento will go to a diner and treat himself to a warm and thoughtful meal. It’s one of the small ways that he can commit an act of self-love without feeling undeserving of it. Quickly, that self-love rots into self-hate as he looks up from his plate on a random Friday evening. His heart genuinely drops when he sees you walk through the door, all dolled up. Weeks of progress are undone in 10 short seconds as he scans your body from head to toe. It all comes flashing back. He remembers everything. He remembers the way he’d fuck you senselessly against the counter, against the dining table, on his bed, on his couch. He remembers the way he’d wake up next to you, watching how beautiful you looked in your sleep. And he remembers what he lost. And it is at that same moment that he remembers Gojo’s words, which echo in his mind. He needs to win you back. He’s going to win you back. 

Kento watches deliberately. It would seem that you’re on some kind of date. He wonders how many dates you’ve been on since the divorce. And although it’s not completely unexpected to him that you’re beginning to date again, he admits that it’s quicker than he would’ve wanted. You don’t notice your stoic ex-husband at first, as you greet the man that you’re meeting with, who kindly gives you a beautiful bouquet of flowers, which you are too sweet to admit, gives you some form of PTSD. After your first glass of wine, you finally notice that somebody is staring intently in your direction. As you squint your eyes to get a better look across the room, you’re met with a smirk, coming from your handsome ex-husband. Your chest feels hollow.

Comments, likes and reblogs appreciated <3 This chapter is just some plot..

[bostoncreamdonut]

“Disliking Caitlyn but not Silco is just misogyny.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER!!!

Let me preface this by saying that I don’t care if people like Caitlyn. You can like characters who have done wrong— hell, my favorite is, in fact, Silco. There’s nothing wrong with that. Second, just because a character is well-written doesn’t mean people have to like them. I think Silco is amazingly written, and I like him, but I also acknowledge his wrongdoings and don’t deny the harm he caused. The same goes for Jinx. So, why don’t I like Caitlyn?

Because Silco and Jinx are a byproduct of their environment. The result of systematic oppression, neglect, and inequality at the hands of Piltover. They cracked, and we can understand why and how someone could break in that environment. How they could turn to aggression after living like that their entire lives. Piltover is safe, clean, and livable at their expense. People aren’t living in Zaun, they are surviving.

Caitlyn didn’t have it nearly as bad to justify her actions. Yes, losing her mother was horrible, but that doesn’t excuse how quickly she turned on Zaun. One Zaunite killed her mother (edit: amongst other things that she experienced, but I believe her mom’s death was what ultimately dictated her decisions in S2), and suddenly, she’s making a group suffer for it, including Vi. Can you imagine how many kids in Zaun have been orphaned because of the toxic environment and oppression they face every day? Caitlyn’s reaction is so drastic, especially considering her experience mirrors the harsh realities that Zaunites are forced to endure all the time.

This is also why I dislike CaitVi when I think about it for more than a second, to be honest.

Also, people do NOT have to explain why they dislike characters/ships.

(I’m just in a yappy mood.)

Sometimes it’s just a feeling, maybe personal bias, maybe they just don’t care to explain, etc. That’s okay.

You will live if people dislike your favs, I promise. [pats back]

Do I writhe on the ground when I see Silco hate? Maybe… Can I accept others hate him? Yeah! (In his case, I don’t even need to ask why.)

Let me know if you think I missed any crucial points or made a mistake! My memory is not the best but I have rewatched recently so I hope it served me well today. Honestly, I don’t want to upset people, this has just been bothering me for a while. I really dislike some Caitlyn stans’ reactions to criticism of her.

Okay, I think I’m done. See ya!

[scoops-aboy86]

wc: 1034 | Rating: T | CW: mentions of infidelity | Additional Tags: future fic, famous Eddie Munson, school counselor Steve Harrington, past Steddie, reconnecting, olive branches, second chances, hopeful ending

I got wailed at a lot for part 1, lol, so here’s this to start making it better. Thanks for the comments about Eddie’s characterization though, I’m glad all the growing up he’s done since the breakup came through.

Now also on ao3

Hell of a Time at the Wake, part 2

The thing is, Eddie never fell out of love. He’s just grown past wondering if they’ll ever cross paths again, given up hoping because that way lies just going through the motions instead of living. 

So he’s completely blindsided when, months later, he answers the phone without bothering to check caller ID and hears a voice he hasn’t heard in over five years. 

“Did you do that interview to get my attention?”

Not just blindsided, but speechless. Him. Eddie Munson. Completely struck dumb. He opens his mouth and all that falls out is a strangled, “Steve?”

There’s a scoff down the line. “No, it’s Entertainment Tonight.”

It brings a faint smile to Eddie’s face despite the shock; he’d always loved Steve’s bitchy side. “Uh, hey. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting—No, absolutely no, to that question. How did you…?”

“Dustin taped it and mailed it to Robin, who showed it to me after being really, really weird for a couple of weeks,” Steve admits, with what sounds like a grudging sigh. But then, it’s been so long, who’s to say that Eddie even knows how to read the man’s tone anymore. “Apparently they talk about me behind my back. I’m thinking of pressing charges.”

Eddie snorts. “That tracks. Sorry again, for… that. I would’ve gone out of my way to tell Dustin not to, but all that would’ve done was speed things up, probably. And I really… I mean, it wasn’t that I wasn’t thinking about you when I said it, but…”

“You didn’t expect me to see it.”

“Well,” he hedges—but yeah, he hadn’t. “It’s not like I expect you to keep tabs on me. I fucked that up a long time ago, I know you don’t owe me any of your time or anything. Just, they asked why I don’t drink and I figured I’d give the real answer for once, get it off my chest. For me, you know?”

There’s a pause, and then, “Yeah, I get that.”

The words are quiet. Eddie doesn’t know what to make of them, so he doesn’t particularly try. He leans his hip against his kitchen counter, picking up the mug he’d set down in his haste to catch the ringing phone. Takes a sip. Clears his throat. 

“So,” he prompts finally into the awkward silence. 

“So,” Steve agrees. “Um, is it stupid to admit that I called all indignant because I was sure—But, I get it. And I appreciate that you were… discrete, I guess is the word. You could’ve said a lot worse about how I handled things back then.”

“Gonna be honest, I have a lot clearer memories of how badly I handled it,” Eddie says, staring down into his mug. His face peers back up at him from the dark, steaming surface of the liquid, and man, the number of times he’s wanted to punch the guys he’s looking at for some of that shit. “At the risk of sounding dismissive, people in their early twenties are a lot stupider than they think.”

“That’s hindsight for you.” Another pause. “We don’t have to talk about it. I don’t think I want to open up that can of worms. But… I was surprised to hear that you’re a teetotaler now. Not even weed?”

Eddie laughs. “Hey man, I smoked enough of that while I was still dealing to last a lifetime.”

“You’re not wrong,” Steve shoots back, and maybe, just maybe, he’s smiling when he says it. “I don’t anymore either. Smoke, I mean. I could say I grew out of it, but the smell was…”

He trails off, and Eddie lets him, nodding to himself. Too many memories, the scent of reefer permeating his old jackets that Steve had liked to steal whenever they’d spent a night apart. It’s why he doesn’t wear those anymore either.

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “It got me through some shit. I’ve got different shit now, though. Better, uh…”

“Coping mechanisms?”

“Sure. And a busier schedule, too. Not a lot of time to sit around and just be stoned, which was half the fun of it anyway.” It had always made Eddie somewhere in the crux between annoyed and anxious if he had to get up and Do Something when he’d been smoking. Spoiled the ambiance, the boneless indulgence of a good high. That attitude had led to more than a few arguments when they’d been together, and with Uncle Wayne before that—but Eddie had always preferred to finish things up and then smoke up, as a reward. 

Working on DnD campaigns hadn’t counted as doing something. Music either, back before he’d made a career of it. 

“Same here. Did Dustin tell you I’m a middle school counselor now?”

Eddie sees the smile in his reflection before he realizes he’s doing it, and covers his completely unnecessary embarrassment by taking a sip, which Steve also can’t see. “He didn’t, but that’s great. Just like you wanted, huh?”

“Yeah. Keeps me pretty busy, the kids these days man, you wouldn’t fucking believe… I mean, nothing as off the wall as some of the shit the Party got up to, obviously, but these kids, jesus. But yeah, I love it.” Steve hesitates. “How about you? How’s the, uh, music industry treating you?”

Once upon a time, Steve had spat in his face that Eddie only wanted to be a rockstar for the sex, drugs, and groupies, and Eddie had snarled back that it’s supposed to be sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll, asshole, I know you don’t take me seriously as a musician but come the fuck on.

“Can’t complain,” Eddie replies easily, because that was a long time ago, in the heat of an otherwise long forgotten moment. They were different people. “Our last album just went gold. The last tour was wild, but too long. Jeff’s got a baby on the way so we’re taking it easy for a while.”

“That’s great, man. Breaks are good. It sounds like you’ve really earned it.” 

And the thing is, Eddie never fell out of love. 

They keep talking, sometimes stalling out but always picking up the threads to keep going eventually, and it feels a little bit like coming home. 

Permanent tag list (ask to be added/removed):

@hotluncheddie @hiei-harringtonmunson @sofadofax @hickeysgodcomplex @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[dragonwithapen75]

When I’m reading Sonic fanfics (which has been happening a lot lately thanks to Sonic Movie 3 having a chokehold on me) I’ve found that I can’t read one where either 1. Sonic goes and sits down at a restaurant or 2. There’s a party. Those two things for some reason just feel so fundamentally against what Sonic would do? Like you’re telling me this speed machine is going to willingly sit down for 90+ minutes at a restaurant? I don’t care how in love with his emo boyfriend he is, that feels really out of character to me. I don’t know why parties also irk me, I think for similar reasons but just it makes less sense? Obviously there are exceptions to this rule, I don’t have time to find the specific fics right now that I’m thinking of but like. Sonic going to a big event only to be captured? Yes. Amy throwing Sonic a party and peer pressuring him to try to swim? Also yes. I guess what I don’t like is when there’s like downtime without also the need to push the narrative forward. Like Sonic Movie 3 has both a party and a restaurant scene and neither of those bother me because they push the movie forward (no specifics to avoid spoilers) but if you’ve seen the movie you know what I mean. And it’s like only Sonic fics too. It doesn’t bother me anywhere else. I do wonder if it’s just me or do any of y’all have weird icks like that.

[ineffablelara]

I'm aware I'm being extremely annoying and bitchy right now but I'm so bothered by the way some people treat Loki as a delicate little baby instead of the badass, powerful and ancient God he is

Like, I get it, his ending in the show was sad but no, I don't think Loki spends his days crying about his situation, I don't think he's scared and desperate, I don't think he'll be traumatized when he leaves the tree, I don't think he's having the time of his life there either, it's a hard and lonely job but he knows someone's gotta do it, just like he knows he's the best person to do it

He spends s2 trying to explain to Sylvie that she can't just give people free will and walk away because that's not how it works, he knows that if you want to give people freedom you also have to make sure they'll be safe to fully enjoy their freedom, you can't just leave them to fend for themselves when you know full well they're powerless to stop the horrors that may come with their newfound freedom

When he explains to her that they can reform the TVA so they can protect the people living on the timelines she says they would be playing God if they did that but Loki says that they are indeed Gods and walks away frustrated by her lack of understanding of the situation

The more mature Loki we see in the show doesn't view his Godhood as something that puts him above other people, he views it as something that gives him the responsability to take care of those who can't defend themselves, there's no arrogance in his voice when he says that they can protect the new multiverse with a reformed TVA, he doesn't say "I can protect them" he says "we", he's not separating and positioning himself above the TVA workers, he wants to work with them, he genuinely just wants the best for everyone: for the people on the timelines to be safe and for the agents who feel at home in the TVA to keep doing their job

All this to say that Loki doesn't view his fate as a punishment, he's doing what he wanted to do from the beginning, OF COURSE he didn't want it to be like that, he thought he could just stay in the TVA and help them fight the HWR variants by going on misisons and stuff, OF COURSE he wishes he could have a more "ordinary" life (I mean, is it really ordinary when you're living inside an organization where time doesn't pass and constantly traveling through time?)

BUT

We have to keep in mind that Loki isn't a stupid little human like the rest of us, his perception of things is not like ours, we are limited and weak, he  wields infinite power and wisdom now, for all we know he can project his mind and consciousness into any timeline he wants and interact with people if he wants, I kinda HATE when I see people writing Loki in fics as if he's this helpless pathetic thing after he leaves Yggdrasil, like, the man can create portals to ANY place he wants to go (let's not forget that he conjured the portal to the citadel while holding the branches and also materialized the stairs that lead to his throne), he can sustain entire countless universes with the touch of his fingers, I promise you he's not the helpless babygirl we all love to call him

I just...

It's so frustrating to see people acting as if Loki is just a random scared human who was tossed in the center of the multiverse tree instead of being the God who fucking created it, I think that's bc some people relate to him and they kinda start forgetting who he actually is, maybe it's just another way to woobify him but idk, it realy annoys me

Anyway, I’m sorry if I’m being annoying, but I really needed to get this off my chest. I’m not saying that Loki doesn’t feel sad at times or that he doesn’t miss his friends—because I absolutely believe he does. I just think that, deep down, he’s proud of himself for being able to take care of everyone. He understands that it’s his responsibility as a God, and he accepts it without trying to make things easier for himself, unlike HWR. After all, that’s the difference between a human playing god and an actual God fulfilling his role as a protector of people in need.

[alice--pallas]

Exactly how long have you been struggling with this? It was only the first question and it had such a complicated answer. Long story short? A long time. But that type of vagueness wasn't helpful right now, nor was she trying to be vague. "Uh... Since I was about seventeen," she said, looking at them with honest eyes. "In high school, I had a boyfriend who also happened to be a drug dealer and he introduced me to heroin. A few days before my eighteenth birthday, I overdosed and I almost died. After that, my dad understandably sent me to rehab. Fucked about with my recovery for a few years before I started to take my mental health and addiction issues seriously... When I couldn't get my hands on heroin, I turned to alcohol instead and it became another habit that I picked up. Eventually, I started to take my recovery seriously and I got my life right--it wasn't perfect, but... Besides a few slip-ups, I was doing really well. And then--I know I've breifly mentioned my ex-husband, Alec, before--when he left, I relapsed." Alice had been plenty open about the fact that she'd been previously married, though she hadn't necessarily divulged all of the details that lead to her divorce. She was happy to answer those questions as well, but she preferred one topic at a time--then again, it was difficult because all of the topics intertwined, didn't they? "My brother, Cy, was the one who got me into rehab that time, just a short stint. But since then, I've been sober. Seven years." She was certainly proud of her sobriety, even in times that it felt more difficult to hang on to, like right now when she was in constant pain.

She smiled at their next question, appreciating their support. "Um... For me, personally, I avoid all of it. I mean, in theory, I could smoke weed, for example, but I worry that I would then forget that I'm not supposed to do heroin, so... It's a lot easier for me to just avoid it all together. But I mean, you don't have to avoid drinking around me--that doesn't bother me anymore. Of course, I'd appreciate it if you would avoid, for example, doing hard drugs but I figure that shouldn't be much of a problem," she said with a small chuckle. At their last question, she took their hand and placed a kiss on the top of their hand. "You're doing a wonderful job supporting me already, love." Taking a deep breath, she said "I mean, most days, I do just fine. For the most part, the longer that I'm in my sobriety, the easier it gets. This current situation is, uh...much more challenging because I'm in a lot of pain, but... A dose of morphine is not worth throwing away my sobriety. So it fucking sucks, for sure, but....it'll be okay." Giving them a small smile, she said "Thank you for asking me."

You said it first, love. Smiling, she said "I know, I know..." They were both quite weary of long-term commitment, considering the different but painful ways their previous romantic experiences had panned out. Alice didn't want to rush anything, especially when she still had some reservations herself--and yet, simultaneously, she didn't want Abraxis to think that she wasn't serious because she absolutely was. Alice didn’t blame Abraxis having a playful tone when inquiring about her temper, though she knew they didn’t actually want to see it. Shaking her head, she chuckled and said “It’s not great. I mean, I’m not proud of it and these days, it doesn’t flare too often, but… If you ever do see it, I…apologize in advance.” She smiled sheepishly, a little embarrassed at the prospect of Abraxis seeing the parts of herself that she wasn’t as proud of.

I wish I could take you home. Alice smiled at their words and looked up at them. “I wish you could, too… But hopefully, I won’t have to be here for much longer,” she said, tracing her finger down their arm, already thinking about what they might be able to do once she was healthy again. Still, the seriousness of their conversation brought her back down to earth. Shaking her head, she said “The police still don’t have any leads… Besides, I’m willing to bet anything that the shooter was sent by someone else. I could be wrong, of course, but I don’t really think the shooter was…coming for me out of personal spite. I just…” She sighed, contemplating how on how much to show her hand—her better judgement told her to not show anything at all. “I would love to say that I can take care of myself, but…” She paused, gesturing to her current circumstance. “Unfortunately, that may not be the case after all. Clearly.”

“to start, exactly how long have you been struggling with this…?” the question came swiftly, yet it bore the weight of careful contemplation. it had lingered, poised at the precipice of their silver tongue, awaiting the precise moment to break free. they give her a moment to answer the question, then another is asked, “are there any other substances, any triggers or situations you avoid? are there any behaviors or actions that i should avoid to respect your recovery?” respect for her had been effortless, a natural state of being. for abraxis, maintaining that respect was paramount. trust, after all, was a fragile thing, but in their eyes, it was also the cornerstone of what they hoped to build—a liaison veined with vulnerability and strength in equal measure. and when it came to alice, their trust was unwavering and firm. love, in its nascent form, carried no prejudice; it simply was, raw and unapologetic. “and finally, how can i support you better?” their voice was measured, their cadence soft and deliberate, the sincerity beneath it as intoxicating as it was disarming.

her laughter danced through the air and conjured a smirk of their own—a smirk they wore with quiet pride, considering it a possible first inside joke. yet another silent thread connected them, as it had in shared amusement. their voices had mingled over telephone wires, wrapping around one another—fragile yet unbreakable. their past conversations, murmured in the midnight hours, still lingered. they had spent long nights discussing marriage, their tangled histories shaping the lens through which they viewed it. alice, wounded by the dissolution of her first union, had confessed her uncertainty about entering such a bond again. abraxis, in turn, had spoken of their own fears—fears rooted in the ashes of an engagement terminated and the searing loss of a spouse taken by a house fire. there were notions, deep, dark, and insidious voices that had told abraxis they had nothing to truly give to another—that love was a treacherous thing they could no longer afford to risk. but they were learning that those voices could be wrong. to drown in love for her was to court destruction, and yet they craved it with an intensity that bordered on madness. “you said it first, love,” they teased. “but yes, i know what you meant.”

though their bond lacked a formal label, abraxis’s devotion was absolute. their gaze was drawn solely to alice as though no one else existed. in truth, they were not the kind to surrender so fully, nor so quickly. their nature, once steeped in deviance, dalliance and detachment, had thrived on restricted sentiment—a life without what-ifs, without the weight of planning, without the entanglements of late-night calls or the constraints of visiting hours. but now, they found themselves transformed, like a mirror catching light for the first time, reflecting wonder and awe at what stood so plainly before them. the thought that she might share their sentiments, had the tables turned, elicited a wicked curve of their lips. “and what might an alice temper flare-up look like, i wonder?” the question slipped out, lilting with playful mischief but laced with a darker, insatiable intrigue.

that's part of the fun, though, isn't it? putting all the pieces of the puzzle together? yes. “it’s been such a pleasure,” they murmured, their voice low, silky, and rich. it was a declaration reserved for her and her alone, each word carrying a faint ache, a yearning that nestled just beneath the surface. the space between them grew scarce, and abraxis leaned closer, drawing in the faint traces of her scent, even as it struggled to outshine the staleness of the hospital room. confined as she was, she still ignited a fire beneath their skin—a slow burn that threatened to consume. “i wish i could take you home,” they admitted, their words a whisper heavy with longing. the proximity of their lips sent a ripple of heat through the air, their breath grazing her ear like the apparition of a kiss. alice summoned their desires with effortless grace. her touch, though fleeting, was a brand, searing into their very core. once she was back to full health, they’d offer so much more skin for alice to caress and profane. they battled with patience as lidded eyes watched her hands carefully. she was able to steal a shudder from her touch.

“well…” they paused, deliberate and contemplative. thinking before speaking was an art abraxis had mastered, though their thoughts now were steeped in the intoxicating haze of her presence. “if you have an argument against it, i am ready to listen. but if someone has targeted you, i want to know who they are and i want to know why. i’d rather confront them than have them confront you again.” the answer came with ease, for alice had bewitched them utterly. they were perhaps foolish to insist on taking more bullets to come, but candor was part of their being. they fixed her with a gaze that brimmed with sincerity, their nod a quiet promise. “if you ask me to, then yes.” and they would. for her, they would do anything.

[onlyforalwayswith]

Man watching worlds I finally understand how frustrated leaf fans must be never having homer broadcasters, like these dudes are being brutal against team Canada and praising Denmark like theyre paid by the compliment

[the-woman-upstairs]

If the cycles really are cycling, I just don’t see Daniel escaping the penthouse that easily. The parallels between him and Claudia have all the subtlety of a brick to the face and just like how her single-minded focus on taking down Lestat blinded her to Louis, it makes sense for Daniel's personal vendetta against Armand to do the same. I mean, my guy was directly warned against worrying about Armand at the expense of ignoring Louis and we have yet to see that come to fruition. Sure, they’ve connected over remembering San Francisco, but if Louis is capable of lashing out against his own daughter, what chance does Daniel have? He’s already experienced the consequences of Louis “detonating” once before and this time around Daniel is actively building a powder keg, just waiting for the right moment to light the fuse. Like, maybe he thinks the resulting explosion will just tank Louis and Armand’s relationship, but he is still very much in the blast radius!

[calamitydaze]

tbh “people hear about legitimate dream fuckups and it colors their worldview to exaggerate and misconstrue harm in everything he does” is just the opposite side of the coin to “fans hear about dream being legitimately fucked over and treated badly and it raises their defenses to react to every perceived slight like a personal betrayal” literally nobody is capable of being normal about that man

[fuckdamn]

everytime i’m faced with wild overt misogyny that’s just platformed like it’s nothing i remind myself that people don’t actually have to feel this way about women. men are fully capable of treating women like human beings and viewing them as such. “but socialization but male fantasies but patriatchy speaks through us even when we don’t recognize it” sure but actually regardless there exist men who are fundamentally not raging misogynists and they generally seem happier and better adjusted. misogyny to me isn’t disappointing because “oh i can’t believe Men, as an essentialized category of person, are like this” it’s disappointing because people make the choice to be like this. “it’s my biological imperative as a man to dominate you” okay well it’s my biological imperative as a freaky bitch to dominate you so what now. what biological imperative is making you comment “onlyfans detected opinion rejected” on every picture of any attractive woman. i think i will always be understood by most people as a woman and i’m learning to accept that and trying to like it but misogyny makes me feel very trapped of course. but misogyny is a choice. which means some people make the choice to be misogynistic which is profoundly frustrating. but many other people choose not to be actively misogynistic and i believe anyone could choose not to be actively misogynistic if they wanted. so it’s a whole thing

[thatfantasylovingdork]

Me: imma listen to a comparison of all Starscream's voice actors cuz I need to hear his voice right now 😍

Me, after listening: oh god Steve Blum does a SEXY voice, that's it I'm done I got turned on by a robot, lol what is wrong with me