#like. sometimes you like feeling the weight of it in your stomach. that it's in there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ankababy · 3 days ago

Text

A Home (part 11)

Part 1 Part 10 Part 12

Chishiya x reader x Niragi

From you breaking plates to Niragi breaking down math problems, it’s not that bad is it?

You were supposed to be in the kitchen by now, making breakfast like you always did. But instead, you stood in your bathroom, your fingers curled around the cold edge of the sink, staring at yourself in the mirror.

You didn’t recognize the person looking back at you.

Your eyes trailed over your reflection, the curve of your cheeks, the softness in places that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t much—just a little weight, a little change—but it felt like everything. You hadn’t been eating right. Some days, you forgot to eat at all. Other days, you ate too much, and the guilt sat in your stomach like a stone.

Your hand lifted to press against your skin, fingers hesitating before pinching, testing. You knew it wasn’t healthy. You knew your body was trying to adjust, to survive. But it didn’t feel like survival. It felt like failure.

You exhaled, shutting your eyes for a moment, trying to clear your head.

You killed someone.

Your breath hitched.

You were fine with it yesterday.

You had been fine. You had gone to sleep last night with the weight of it settled in your chest, pressing down but not crushing. It was manageable. You were okay. And now? Now you weren’t. Now it was curling in the pit of your stomach, spreading through your veins like something toxic, something wrong.

What was it? What changed?

Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink harder, knuckles going white. Maybe it was always like this. Maybe this was how it worked—grief, guilt, whatever the fuck this was. Maybe it was supposed to come in waves, rolling in and out, sometimes shallow, sometimes pulling you under so fast you couldn’t breathe.

You opened your eyes again, staring at yourself, searching.

They told you it wasn’t your fault. Niragi said it so easily, so confidently, like it was fact, like it was law. Chishiya already knew you’d come crawling back to him for reassurance, for answers, for comfort in his silence. And when you did, when you curled up beside him in his room, he’d just breathe, slow and steady, and let you believe that if he wasn’t judging you, then maybe you were still worth something.

They told you that you were fine.

You sucked in a shaky breath.

You believed them.

Didn’t you?

Your reflection blurred as your vision turned watery. You shook your head, gripping the sink harder, as if that would anchor you, as if it would stop the thoughts from spiraling. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be okay.

You were supposed to make breakfast.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you forced yourself to straighten, to take another breath. You pressed your palms against your cheeks, willing yourself to feel something solid, something real.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

You forced yourself to turn away from the mirror, not letting yourself look back. You couldn’t.

Instead, you focused on what you could control—your steps, the steady rhythm of your breathing, the way your hands smoothed down the oversized sweater you’d thrown on before bed last night to cover your body up. You walked through your bedroom, fingers briefly grazing the soft fabric of the curtains as you passed, before stepping into the hallway. The apartment was silent, the kind of quiet that always felt too heavy, too unnatural. But you knew better. They were awake.

Niragi was sprawled out on the couch, one arm resting behind his head, a cigarette dangling lazily between his fingers. Asshole. His shirt was wrinkled, like he hadn’t even bothered changing from last night, and his eyes flicked toward you the second you walked in. Chishiya was seated at the counter, cup of tea in hand, his posture relaxed.

But none of that mattered. Not the weight of their eyes on you, not the cigarette smoke curling through the air, not the gnawing in your stomach that had nothing to do with hunger.

“Morning.” you chirped, stepping into the kitchen like nothing was wrong. Like you weren’t barely holding yourself together.

Niragi smirked, tilting his head as he exhaled a slow drag of smoke. “You look like shit.”

“That’s the first thing you say to me? After I slaved away making sure you two don’t starve every morning?”

He laughed, the rough, low sound of it making something in your chest loosen just a little. It was easier this way. Easier to joke, to tease, to fall into it.

Chishiya hummed from the counter, lifting his cup to his lips. “You’re up later than usual.” His voice was quiet, thoughtful, but you knew him well enough to hear what he wasn’t saying.

Are you okay?

You just smiled, stepping past him to pull ingredients from the fridge. “Guess I needed the sleep.”

That wasn’t a lie. You had needed it. Not that it had done much.

“Or maybe,” Niragi drawled, dragging the word out as he sat up, resting his forearms on his knees. “you were busy dreaming about me.” He flicked his tongue out for a second. “You don’t have to be shy about it.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you grabbed things. “In your dreams.”

“In yours, actually.”

You turned your attention back to the stove, heating the pan. “What do you guys want? The usual?”

“Obviously.” Niragi stretched, rolling his shoulders as he stood. “Not like you’d make anything else.”

You hummed, focused on cooking, pretending you didn’t feel his presence getting closer until he was leaning against the counter beside you. He was too close—he was always too close—but you didn’t move away. You never did.

“Did you have a bad dream?” he mocked.

Your hands froze for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to keep moving, stirring the food like nothing had changed. “No.”

Niragi studied you, but before he could say anything else, Chishiya cut in. “Leave her alone.”

Niragi clicked his tongue, but you could feel the way his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally stepped back. You swallowed, ignoring the way your heart felt unsteady, the way Chishiya’s gaze was still heavy on your back.

It didn’t matter.

You smiled again, bright and sweet, and turned to place their plates on the counter.

“Eat up.”

The shattered pieces of porcelain lay scattered across the floor, sharp edges glinting under the kitchen lights. You stared at them, unblinking, your breath uneven, hands trembling at your sides.

It was an accident.

Just a stupid accident.

You had been washing the dishes—mindlessly scrubbing, trying to focus on something, anything, other than the way your thoughts had been spiraling all day. But then, your fingers slipped. The plate had hit the counter before crashing onto the floor, breaking apart in an instant.

And for some reason, that was what did it.

Not the thoughts, not the memories, not the way your stomach twisted every time you ate, not even the fucking guilt that had been clawing at you since the moment you woke up. No. It was this. A fucking plate.

Your breath came faster, shallower, and your nails dug into your palms as anger surged through you so violently it made your muscles ache. It crawled up your throat, hot and suffocating, making it impossible to breathe. You could feel it in your chest, in your hands, in your legs—this unbearable, burning frustration that made you want to scream, to throw something, to break sixty more plates over your own head just to make it fucking stop.

You wanted to move. Wanted to run. Wanted to destroy something, anything.

But all you did was stand there, staring, shaking, trying to force yourself to calm down. But it wasn’t working. It wasn’t working. It wasn’t—

Niragi stepped into the kitchen, brows furrowed, alert. His face was cautious, not the usual asshole one. You knew why. He could tell. He could always tell when you were on the verge of snapping.

His gaze flicked from you to the shattered plate, then back again.

“You good?” His voice was even, lacking its usual mocking tone.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Your hands twitched at your sides, and you felt yourself unraveling, the words fumbling in your throat, breaking apart before they could even form. You weren’t just angry. You weren’t just upset. You were wrong—off-balance, unstable, unable to even fucking speak properly because the frustration had consumed you whole.

Your breath hitched, and you clenched your fists harder, shaking your head once—sharp, jerky, desperate.

That was all Niragi needed.

His expression shifted instantly. The sharpness in his eyes softened, and his posture changed—less tense, more inviting, like he was making himself safe, warm, just for you.

“Hey, hey.” he murmured, stepping closer, voice low and careful. “It’s just a plate, sweetheart. It’s not a big deal.”

But it was. It was a huge fucking deal. You didn’t know why, but it was.

You shook your head again, trying to get the words out, trying to explain, but they stuck in your throat, twisted and tangled. Your breathing was uneven, your chest felt too tight, and you were so angry that it hurt.

Niragi didn’t push. Instead, he reached out—slow—and curled his fingers around your wrist.

“You’re alright.” he said, voice smooth, easy. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe.”

His words were like a hook, dragging you back before you could fall any deeper into the rage bubbling under your skin. Your pulse was pounding, your muscles were still tight, but—fuck—you listened. You sucked in a shaky breath, and then another.

Niragi hummed, pleased. “Good girl.”

You exhaled sharply, your fingers uncurling, the tension in your shoulders loosening just slightly.

“There you go.” he murmured, stepping even closer, his body a solid presence in front of you. His grip on your wrist was firm but gentle, his thumb brushing over your skin in lazy, slow strokes. “It’s not worth it, is it? Getting this worked up over some broken plate?”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head—not in disagreement, just in… something.

Niragi tilted his head, eyes scanning your face like he was reading every little crack, every little weakness. And then, in that sickly sweet voice of his, he said, “You know I hate seeing you like this.”

That made something in your chest stutter.

You blinked up at him, lip trembling just barely, and he took that as his win. He loosened his grip on your wrist, but only so he could trail his hand up your arm, his fingers feather-light as they traced over your skin. It was gentle. He was gentle.

And because of that, you felt the anger start to drain away, slipping through your fingers like water.

“See?” he murmured, dipping his head just enough to catch your eyes again. “You’re okay.”

You let out a breath, shaky and uneven.

He was right.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

Niragi had always been good at this. Too good.

It was effortless for him, slipping into the exact role he needed to play, twisting his voice into something soft, his touch into something reassuring. He had spent his whole life mastering control—learning how to push, how to pull, how to break and rebuild. With you, it was no different.

At first, you had just been fun. A challenge. A pretty, fragile thing he could poke at, prod at, just to see what you’d do. And fuck, you had been so easy to figure out. Soft hearted, desperate for connection, a little too quick to forgive. The kind of girl who would rather suffer than let the people she cared about feel an ounce of pain.

It had been so easy to get inside your head.

But somewhere along the way, something changed.

He liked the way you trusted him, the way you always came back, the way you never pushed him away even when you should’ve. He liked the way your voice sounded when you worried about him, the way your hands brushed over his bruises without hesitation. He liked the way his name sounded when you said it—not a threat, not scared, but like it meant something.

And right now, looking at you, he hated the way your body was still shaking, the way your hands were trembling, the way your eyes—usually so warm, so full of life—were burning with something ugly.

He hated that you had gotten this angry without him there to stop it.

But most of all?

He hated that it wasn’t because of him.

So, he did what he always did. He fixed it.

His hand trailed up from your arms, slow and careful, until he was cupping the side of your face, his fingers barely brushing your skin. He could feel the heat beneath his palm, the tension still holding you tight, but he didn’t rush you. No, that wasn’t how this worked.

“Breathe.” he murmured again, voice so low, so gentle that it almost didn’t sound like him.

You let out another shaky exhale, your lashes fluttering as you looked up at him.

There it was. That moment of hesitation. That second where you weren’t sure if you should lean into him or pull away. And Niragi? He fucking lived for that moment.

Because you never pulled away.

Not from him.

Not even when you should.

His fingers stroked over your cheek, feather-light, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “You’re too sweet to be getting this worked up.” he murmured, tilting his head. “It doesn’t suit you, baby.”

Your breath hitched, and his smirk almost returned—but he kept it at bay, kept his expression soft, open, safe.

And when he felt your body start to relax, even just a little, he knew he had won.

“There we go.” he hummed, voice dripping with something close to satisfaction. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

You swallowed hard, eyes flicking to the broken plate on the floor before quickly darting away.

Niragi followed your gaze, letting out a small breath. “It’s just a plate.” he reminded you. “You’re not gonna cry over it, are you?”

The way you tensed made his stomach flip—like he had almost pushed too far, almost cracked that fragile, delicate thing inside you. But then you took a slow breath, shaking your head, and he knew he still had you.

“That’s my girl.”

You let out a breath, still unsteady but no longer on the verge of ripping yourself apart. Your muscles ached from how tightly you had wound yourself up, but Niragi’s touch was grounding you, pulling you back to something steadier.

You had to talk.

So you tilted your head slightly, looking at your fingers as you flexed them, and let out a soft, almost absentminded hum. “I’ve been growing my nails out.”

Niragi blinked.

You didn’t look at him, just kept turning your hand in the light, examining the way your nails had gotten longer, stronger. “I always used to keep them short, but I kinda like them this way.” you murmured. “I think I might file them into a sharper shape, though.”

There was a beat of silence, and then—

“Yeah? What, so you can scratch my back up real nice?”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of your head. “Oh my god, Niragi.”

He grinned. The real kind, not just the usual smirk—an actual grin, the type that made his eyes glint with something wicked. “What? You’re the one bringing up your nails.”

You groaned, but there was no real irritation behind it. Just… something lighter. Something closer to normal. And he could see it, could tell it was working, which only made him push further.

“Bet you’d look real nice with long nails, though.” he mused, tilting his head as if actually considering it. “You could dig ‘em into my shoulders real deep—”

You reached out and smacked his arm before he could finish, but the small, exasperated laugh that slipped out betrayed you completely. “Niragi.”

“What?” He smirked, clearly satisfied with himself. “You want me to shut up?”

“I want you to act like a decent human being for once in your life.” you shot back, but it lacked any real venom.

His smirk widened. “You know that’s not happening.”

You rolled your eyes again, shaking your head, but the tightness in your chest had lessened, the pressure behind your eyes no longer threatening to spill over. Your hands were steady now, no longer shaking.

And Niragi? He fucking knew it.

He watched you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he let out a small breath. “You do this on purpose, huh?”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“This whole little distraction thing.” He gestured vaguely at your hands. “You talk about random shit when you’re trying not to lose your mind.”

Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came out.

Because—fuck. He was right.

You did.

You always did.

But before you could even think of a response, Niragi shrugged, acting like he hadn’t just read you completely. “Hey, whatever works.” he said lazily. “At least you’re not about to start breaking shit anymore.”

You scoffed, but the corner of your mouth twitched—just a little. “Does it feel that good to bring it up?”

He grinned. “Are you kidding? You were this close to going completely feral.” He held up two fingers, barely any space between them. “Would’ve been hot, though.”

“Oh my god.”

You groaned again, but it was different now—lighter, easier. You hated to admit it, but… it worked.

Niragi had worked.

When the fuck did he get so wise?

For a moment, there was only silence.

The anger had drained from your body completely now, replaced with something calmer, something warmer. You weren’t sure if it was because of Niragi’s presence or just the exhaustion that followed your outburst, but either way, you felt… better.

You sighed, shaking your head as you leaned back against the counter, your fingers brushing over the cool surface. Then, softly—almost hesitantly—you murmured, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

You glanced up at him, tilting your head slightly. “For stopping me before I lost my mind.”

He blinked. For once, he actually seemed thrown off, like the idea of you thanking him was so foreign that his brain was struggling to process it. But then, after a beat, he snorted, shaking his head. “Wow. You’re welcome or what the fuck.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real irritation behind it. With a small huff, you pushed yourself up onto the counter, swinging your legs slightly as you settled in. Niragi watched, his eyes flicking down to your bare thighs before quickly dragging back up, and for once, he didn’t immediately say something filthy.

Instead, he leaned against the counter beside you, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re seriously thanking me?” he asked, arching a brow. “The guy who makes your life a living hell on a daily basis?”

You let out a small, breathy laugh. “Yeah, well. You’re the same guy who just talked me down from losing my shit over a broken plate, so…” You shrugged, giving him a look. “Credit where credit’s due, I guess.”

Niragi huffed, shaking his head. “Fucking weird.”

You smiled, and then—almost absentmindedly—you murmured, “When did you even get so good at this?”

That made him pause. His gaze flicked to you, something flashing through his eyes. “At what?”

“This.” you said, gesturing vaguely. “At knowing exactly what to say. At calming me down.” You gave him a curious look. “When did that happen?”

For a moment, Niragi didn’t answer. Instead, he just stared at you. His lips parted slightly, like he was going to say something, but then he stopped himself, rolling his tongue over his teeth as he looked away.

You frowned. “Niragi?”

“Dunno.” he muttered, glancing back at you. “Guess I just pay attention.”

You blinked.

That was… weirdly honest.

And coming from him? Even weirder.

Before you could even process it, though, Niragi suddenly smirked, the shift so fast that it was like a switch had flipped. “Or maybe I’m just a fucking genius. Hard to say.”

You groaned. “There it is.”

He laughed, full and unapologetic, and—fuck—you couldn’t help it. You smiled.

So, without warning, you lifted your leg and kicked him.

Niragi barely reacted. He just glanced down at your foot like it was the least concerning thing in the world before slowly dragging his gaze back up to you, unimpressed. “Really?”

You grinned. “Really.”

He snorted. “You really wanna start that?”

You just kicked him again.

This time, he let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head like you were the biggest pain in his ass. “Fucking brat.” he muttered, but he still didn’t move away.

If anything, he leaned closer, resting an elbow on the counter beside you, one hand tucked into his pocket. He was acting all nonchalant, all indifferent, but you knew better. He liked this. He liked your attention, liked that you weren’t upset anymore, liked that you were giggling instead of fighting off the weight of your own thoughts.

You grinned wider. “You deserved it.”

“For what?”

“For being you.”

Niragi scoffed, but before he could fire back, you kicked him again, and this time, it actually startled a chuckle out of him. It was quick, barely there, but you heard it. And it only made your own laughter bubble up, light and easy and genuine.

You had forgotten what that felt like.

And Niragi had given it to you.

“You two are insufferable.”

Your head snapped up just as Chishiya walked into the kitchen, his usual deadpan expression in place, looking bored as fuck.

You were still giggling.

And that? That caught Chishiya’s attention more than anything else.

His gaze flickered to you, briefly scanning your expression, the slight flush on your face from laughing, the lingering sweetness in your eyes. And then, just as quickly, he looked at Niragi.

There was no immediate shift in his expression, no clear reaction, but you had known Chishiya long enough to see the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes narrowed just the slightest bit.

Because Niragi had gotten to you first.

Niragi had pulled you back from the edge.

And Chishiya hadn’t been there to do it.

You didn’t notice the tension, too caught up in the lingering warmth in your chest, too distracted by the way Niragi was still leaning against the counter beside you like he belonged there.

Chishiya did.

And he didn’t fucking like it.

He leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, his eyes flicking between you and Niragi. “You have to play today.”

Your breath caught.

For a second, everything felt like it froze. The laughter in your throat, the warmth lingering from your conversation with Niragi—it all vanished, snuffed out in an instant.

Shit.

You hadn’t forgotten about the game, exactly. But you had pushed it to the back of your mind. And now, with one simple sentence, Chishiya had ripped you out of it.

“Oh, right.” you said, keeping your tone light. “Thanks for reminding me.”

But it wasn’t real.

Chishiya saw it immediately. Your smile, your easy response—it was all a front, a desperate attempt to push away the thing clawing at the back of your mind. Because the last time you had played—

Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

Chishiya didn’t move. He just watched you, gaze flicking over your face, your posture, the slight tension in your shoulders that you probably thought you were hiding.

And then his eyes trailed lower. It wasn’t intentional, at first. Just another quick, practiced scan, the same way he always read people, analyzing every shift, every detail. But this time, something caught his attention. The slight curve of your stomach, the softness in your arms, the way your clothes fit just a little differently.

Chishiya’s mind immediately pieced it together. You hadn’t been eating right before. He had noticed it, but he hadn’t said anything—had just kept quiet and watched as you fell deeper into whatever self-destructive spiral had taken hold of you. But now? Now you were different.

You looked… fuller.

Healthier.

And—fuck, he wasn’t about to dwell on it—but there was something undeniably attractive about it. Something real. Something that made his stomach twist, just slightly.

But beyond that, beyond anything else, it told him one thing:

You still needed time.

Your mind was not in the right place for this game. You were still hurting, still recovering, still so fucking fragile beneath all that fake lightheartedness. And even if you weren’t breaking apart right now, Chishiya knew better than anyone how fast things could unravel.

He tucked his hands into his pockets, tilting his head slightly. “Are you?”

You blinked. “Am I what?”

“Fine.”

Your stomach twisted again.

Fuck, you hated how he did that. How he could just look at you and know, how he could say one word and make your entire act feel pointless.

But you refused to let him see you crack. So you forced a smile, a little too quick, a little too bright. “Of course.”

Chishiya said nothing.

He just watched you.

You knew he didn’t believe you. Not for a fucking second.

You hated that look. Hated how easily he saw you.

“Fine, whatever.” Niragi muttered, rolling his eyes. “Go play your stupid fucking game. Maybe you’ll finally get your shit together.”

Your head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

He smirked, all teeth and arrogance, his tone lazy. “What? You still getting all weepy over that guy? It’s not like he was anything special.”

Something cold twisted in your chest. Because—fuck. It was so easy for him to say that, so easy for him to brush it off like it meant nothing. And maybe to him, it was nothing. Just another casualty in a world where people died every fucking day. But you had killed him. You had watched the life drain from his eyes, felt the weight of it settle into your bones, felt it fucking consume you. And now Niragi was sitting here, acting like it didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t the reason you could barely look at yourself in the mirror some days.

You clenched your jaw. And then, instead of lashing out, instead of letting it get to you, you tilted your head, voice dry and unimpressed. “I literally let you smoke inside this morning.”

Niragi blinked.

Chishiya blinked.

For a second, there was a beat of silence, like neither of them knew how to process that completely random, yet somehow perfectly timed response.

And then Niragi scowled. “The fuck does that have to do with anything?”

You shrugged, expression neutral. “I let you. Which means I could’ve told you to take your ass outside, but I didn’t.” You crossed your arms. “And this is how you repay me?”

Chishiya let out a quiet breath through his nose, looking away like he wasn’t entirely entertained.

Niragi narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I mean,” you continued, pretending to think. “I could just stop letting you smoke in here, you know?” You sighed dramatically. “Maybe that’s what I should do. Since you clearly don’t appreciate me.”

Niragi gawked at you, like you had just personally offended him on a spiritual level.

And then—“You bitch.”

Chishiya actually laughed. It was quiet, barely there, just a small amused exhale—but it was real.

And Niragi hated it.

His scowl deepened, and he pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You loved it when I smoked inside.”

You blinked, face blank. “I hated it.”

“You didn’t.”

You tilted your head, looking unimpressed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, really.” Niragi huffed. “You made a face, but you didn’t tell me to put it out. And you cracked the window, like you’re pretending you don’t care, but you do.”

You blinked. Then narrowed your eyes. “That’s a lot of detail for someone who claims I love it.”

Niragi opened his mouth. Closed it.

Chishiya smirked.

You crossed your arms, giving him a smug, knowing look. “You notice that much about me?”

Niragi scowled. “Shut up.”

Chishiya let out another quiet chuckle, shaking his head slightly, but he said nothing. He didn’t need to. Because you won, and you all fucking knew it.

You were so smart.

The waiting area was tense, filled with people you didn’t know and people you didn’t want to know. Some looked desperate, eyes darting around like they were already planning how to run, how to survive. Others were cold, detached—just waiting for the game to start, waiting to see what fresh hell they’d be thrown into.

Chishiya stood at your left, hands in his pockets, looking utterly unimpressed with the entire situation. Niragi was at your right, already talking shit before the game even started, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder as he scanned the room.

“Fucking look at that guy.” Niragi muttered, jerking his chin toward a skinny man hunched in the corner, visibly shaking. “Dude’s already about to piss himself. Bet he doesn’t last five minutes.”

“Niragi.” you hissed, giving him a look.

“What?” He grinned, waving you off. “I’m just saying. Some of these people are practically dead already. Just speeding up the process.”

Your stomach twisted. It wasn’t like he was wrong—you had played enough games to know that hesitation got people killed—but hearing him talk about it so casually still made something deep in your chest feel sick.

Chishiya hummed beside you, barely sparing the man a glance. “He’ll probably panic early.” he murmured, tone detached. “Draw attention to himself. If it’s a team game, he’ll be the first one thrown under the bus.”

Niragi snorted. “Good. One less idiot in the way.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus on something else. Anything else.

But Niragi wasn’t done. His gaze flicked to another player—a woman standing near the entrance, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She looked strong, confident, but Niragi’s lips curled into a smirk anyway.

“Think she’ll cry if I point this at her?”

Your head snapped to him just in time to see him lift his rifle, not aiming it, but still waving it in the general direction of the woman, as if it were some kind of toy.

“Niragi.” you hissed, reaching for his arm.

Chishiya didn’t even blink. “Probably.”

“Oh, come on.” You shot both of them a glare, gripping Niragi’s sleeve and yanking his arm down. “Can you not?”

Niragi chuckled, letting you pull his gun away like it was no big deal. “Relax, baby. I’m just fucking around.”

“You’re going to get us killed before the game even starts.” you muttered.

“Not us.” Chishiya corrected, still completely unbothered. “Just him.”

“Ha, ha.” Niragi rolled his eyes. “You’re both a couple of fucking buzzkills.”

You let out a sharp breath, shaking your head. “You’re an asshole.”

He grinned. “And?”

You didn’t dignify that with an answer.

Chishiya just smirked, barely tilting his head. “She has a point.” he said idly. “You don’t need to scare them before the game. You’ll have plenty of time to do that after it starts.”

Niragi snorted, clearly entertained by that idea. “Fair.”

A sudden, sharp beep cut through the room.

GAME: EQUATION ESCAPE

DIFFICULTY: SIX OF DIAMONDS

You exhaled slowly, watching as the screen shifted, revealing a set of instructions in large, bold text.

RULES:

Players must move through the Equation Maze to reach the exit.

Doors will only open if the correct answer to the equation is given

If an incorrect answer is given three times, the player will be eliminated.

The difficulty of equations will increase as the game progresses.

The game will continue until all surviving players escape or time runs out.

TIME LIMIT: 1 HOUR

A beat of silence. And then the sound of quiet, nervous shifting—people glancing at each other, trying to gauge reactions, trying to mask their own.

A math game.Not ideal, but it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. At least you wouldn’t have to play alone.

You could feel Niragi at your side, standing a little straighter now that things were getting real, his fingers drumming against his rifle like he was itching for some kind of action.

GAME START.

And then the doors slammed open.

The group surged forward, but you, Niragi, and Chishiya didn’t move right away.

You stood back, watching as the other players hesitated in front of the first set of doors, numbers flashing above them in glowing red text.

8 + 4 = ?

Someone rushed forward, pressing the number 12 on the keypad beside the door. It clicked open instantly, and the group scattered, some bolting through different pathways, others pausing to strategize.

You exhaled slowly.

Alright. Seemed easy enough.

Niragi let out a loud, obnoxious laugh, swinging his rifle over his shoulder. “Seriously? This is the big, scary fucking game?” He scoffed, stepping forward without a care in the world.

You pressed your lips together, already feeling a headache forming.

The three of you walked deeper into the maze, passing through doors as quickly as they came.

35 - 17 = ?

You pressed 18, and the door clicked open.

9 x 6 = ?

Chishiya entered 54 without hesitation, barely breaking stride.

Niragi just trailed behind, watching lazily, letting you and Chishiya do all the work while he swung his rifle around like a toy. “This is fucking boring.” he complained. “What kind of dumbass thought this was a good game?”

You ignored him, already focused on the next equation.

(12 ÷ 3) + 8 = ?

You quickly punched in 12, and the door slid open.

Niragi snorted. “Oh, yeah. Real riveting.” He turned to Chishiya, grinning. “What, you got some kindergarteners back at your little hospital? They’d love this shit.”

Chishiya didn’t even dignify him with a response, just kept moving, eyes sharp as he scanned the pathways ahead.

You sighed. “You could at least pretend to help.”

“Why?” Niragi smirked. “You two are doing great without me.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could snap back, the next door came into view.

((45 x 2) ÷ 3) + (16 x 5) = ?

You stared at the glowing numbers, your brain grinding to a halt.

Even Chishiya frowned slightly, tilting his head as he analyzed the problem. It was doable, sure, but the jump in difficulty was insane.

Niragi stepped forward, tilting his head as he studied the equation. “Oh, finally.” he muttered, rolling his shoulders.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You understand this?”

He shot you an unimpressed look. “What, you think I’m fucking stupid?”

You hesitated.

Because, well.

He hadn’t exactly given you any reason to think otherwise.

But instead of snapping at you, Niragi just huffed, stepping closer to the keypad. “Listen up, fucker.” he said, but his tone wasn’t mocking—it was almost teasing.

You blinked.

“First, you gotta do the shit in parentheses.” he said, pointing at the screen. “So, 45 times 2 is 90. Then divide that by 3—that’s 30.” He tapped the other part of the equation. “Then you got 16 times 5—that’s 80. So now, all you gotta do is add the two together.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

“…Which is 110.” he added, like it was obvious.

You blinked again.

Chishiya hummed, gaze flicking to Niragi. “Not bad.”

Niragi smirked. “Suck my dick.”

You ignored their usual bickering, still looking at Niragi like he had just grown a second head. “…You actually explained that really well.”

He snorted. “Yeah, no shit.”

“No, I mean, you—” You frowned, searching for the right words. “You were patient.”

That wiped the smirk off his face for half a second. But then he scoffed, waving you off. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” He said, then clicked 110 into the keypad.

The door opened.

You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head.

He was an asshole.

But fuck.

He was a smart asshole.

You didn’t know what shocked you more—the fact that Niragi was actually solving these equations like it was nothing, or the fact that he was taking the time to explain them to you.

Like, properly.

Without mocking you.

Without laughing in your face.

And the deeper you went into the maze, the harder the equations got.

((72 ÷ 9) x (14 + 3)) - (50 ÷ 5) = ?

You blinked at the numbers, already feeling a headache creeping in. But Niragi just sighed like this was all so beneath him, rolling his shoulders before pointing at the equation.

“Alright, first off, you divide that 72 by 9. That gives you 8.” he started, his voice slow. “Then you gotta do the parentheses—14 plus 3 is 17. So now you got 8 times 17, which gives you… 136.”

You stared at the numbers, trying to catch up.

“Then, 50 divided by 5 is 10.” he continued, nodding at the last part of the equation. “So now you just take 136 and subtract 10.” He glanced at you. “And that gives you…?”

You blinked, still stuck on the first half of the problem. “…Uh.”

He arched a brow, waiting.

You swallowed. “One… twenty-six?”

His smirk returned. “See? Not so fucking hard, huh?”

You exhaled, more out of disbelief than anything. “Niragi, what the fuck?”

“What?”

“You’re—” You gestured vaguely at the equation. “Good at this.”

Niragi snorted, entering 126 into the keypad. The door clicked open immediately. “Yeah? No shit.”

“No, I mean—what?” You shook your head, still processing. “How do you know all this?”

He gave you a dry look. “I went to school, dumbass.”

You shot Chishiya a look, half expecting him to throw in something, but he just watched. Like he wasn’t surprised by this at all.

You turned back to Niragi. “So, what, you’ve just been keeping this math genius act a secret this whole time?”

He smirked, stepping ahead of you. “Never had a reason to flex before.”

You followed after him, still trying to process the fact that out of everyone—Niragi was the one who had this shit handled.

And, okay, maybe that was a little attractive.

Okay, a lot attractive.

Because he was solving these equations without even thinking, explaining them to you without a hint of frustration, his voice steady, confident, self-assured.

You never thought you’d see the day Niragi looked sexy solving math problems.

And yet, here you were.

You swallowed, pushing the thought away.

(102 - (84 ÷ 4)) + ((19 x 5) ÷ 2) = ?

Before you even had time to freak out, Niragi was already cracking his neck.“Alright, listen up.”

And just like that, he dove in again—effortless, fluid, guiding you through the numbers.

Like he had been made for this shit.

Like it was just second nature.

And you?

You just watched him.

Completely and utterly floored.

The second a new problem flashed onto the screen, Niragi was already breaking it down, solving it with the kind of confidence that made it seem easy.

(((256 ÷ 8) + (15 x 4)) ÷ 2) + 37 = ?

You barely had time to take in the numbers before Niragi scoffed. “Okay, this one’s just trying too hard.” he muttered, cracking his knuckles. “First, you divide 256 by 8. That gives you 32.”

You blinked.

How?

“Then 15 times 4—that’s 60.” he continued, barely slowing down. “Now you got 32 plus 60, which gives you 92. Divide that by 2, and you get 46.” He tilted his head toward the last part of the problem. “Add 37, and that’s…?”

You scrambled to add the numbers in your head. “Uh—eighty… three?”

Niragi grinned. “Ding ding ding.”

He punched in 83.

The door unlocked with a soft click, and he shot you a look, all smug satisfaction. “See?”

You let out a breathy laugh, still dazed. “Holy shit, Niragi.”

He arched a brow. “What?”

You shook your head, staring at him like you were seeing him for the first time. “You’re amazing at this.”

It was supposed to be a simple compliment. A casual, honest observation. But Niragi’s smirk faltered for just a second.

You didn’t even notice at first—you were too caught up in your own thoughts, too busy watching the way he owned these equations like they were nothing.

But Niragi? He felt it.

Because nobody had ever said that to him before.

Not once.

And suddenly, he wasn’t in this fucking maze anymore.

He was back in school, back in that stuffy classroom with too-bright lights and the sounds of laughter that wasn’t friendly—wasn’t nice.

Because he had always been smart.

And for some reason, they hated that.

They didn’t just make fun of him.

They destroyed him for it.

Mocked him. Tormented him. Made sure that every single fucking day was a reminder that no matter how fast he solved a problem, no matter how much better he was—

He would never matter.

And here you were.

Telling him he was amazing.

You—who had no reason to bullshit him, no reason to lie, no reason to say something just to be nice.

You meant it.

And that—

That did something to him.

He didn’t know what, but it fucking did.

“…Yeah.” he muttered, clearing his throat, forcing his usual smirk back onto his face. “I know.”

But when he turned back to the screen, his grip on his rifle was just a little too tight.

The apartment door swung open, and you stepped inside first, practically glowing.

Your laughter rang through the space, still buzzing from the high of the game. You were smiling—really smiling—as you shrugged off your jacket, launching straight into conversation.

“That was actually so fun.” you said, turning to face the boys as they stepped in behind you. “I mean, okay, maybe not fun fun, but still—holy shit, Niragi, you were insane.” You grinned, your energy infectious. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do math that fast in my life.”

Niragi just scoffed, tossing his rifle onto the couch like it was nothing. “Yeah, well. I’m gifted.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “No, seriously—I’m so impressed.”

He paused at that. Not long—just for a split second—but Chishiya caught it.

And he understood it, too.

Because he knew what that meant to Niragi.

Even if Niragi himself didn’t want to admit it.

Chishiya shut the door behind him, his eyes never leaving you.

Because you were fucking glowing.

You were talking a mile a minute, hands moving as you replayed the events of the game, that genuine, sweet excitement pouring out of you without restraint.

And both of them just… watched.

Chishiya kept his usual expression, slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket as he leaned against the wall. But inside? Inside, something in him twisted.

Because it should’ve been him.

It should’ve been his moment to show off, to impress you, to have you looking at him like that.

Not Niragi.

But, of course, Niragi was eating it up.

Acting all nonchalant, all smug, like it was nothing—but Chishiya saw the way his grip twitched, the way his shoulders relaxed just a little, the way he let you ramble, let you praise him without cutting you off.

And, fuck.

Chishiya was irritated.

But—he didn’t actually mind this version of you. The excitement, the laughter, the lightness of it all. Because when was the last time you looked this… happy?

They didn’t know what it was—what the feeling was, that unfamiliar warmth creeping in, that quiet, uncomfortable awareness.

But they liked it.

They liked watching you smile, liked hearing you talk, liked the way your presence filled the room.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because neither of them had ever felt that before.

Not really.

Because how could someone love if they had never been loved?

That was the difference between you and them.

You had grown up surrounded by love.

You were love itself.

And they had never experienced it.

Not until you.

Because you loved them.

And they didn’t know what to do with that.

Didn’t know how to accept it, how to reciprocate it, how to be whatever it was you deserved.

You kept talking. Rambling, smiling, glowing.

And they just stood there. Watching.

Because how the fuck were they supposed to keep up with you?

How were they supposed to understand you, when you were everything they weren’t?

You were warm, open, real. You felt things too deeply, cared too much, loved too easily.

And they—they were just two broken, fucked-up, selfish bastards who had never deserved someone like you.

Niragi slumped onto the couch, spreading his legs, but his gaze never left you. He wasn’t even listening to your words anymore—he was just watching your mouth move, the way your lips curled when you were excited, the way your eyes sparkled when you got lost in a thought.

And he hated that.

Hated that you could be so fucking happy over something so stupid.

Hated that it made you even prettier.

Hated that he fucking liked it.

Because when was the last time he’d ever looked at anything—anyone—and felt something other than the usual burning pit of rage in his gut?

He didn’t know how to deal with this shit.

Didn’t know how to deal with you.

Didn’t know how to deal with the way your voice made his chest feel tight, or the way his hands twitched whenever you got close, or the way it pissed him off when anyone else even looked at you.

Niragi had always been possessive, always been greedy, always taken what he wanted.

But this?

This was fucking different.

And he hated it.

Chishiya, meanwhile, leaned against the wall, arms crossed, unreadable as always. But inside, his mind was racing.

Because he had been studying you since the second you walked through that door, picking apart every movement, every shift in tone, every flicker of emotion behind your eyes.

Because that’s what he did. He dissected people. Figured out what made them tick. What made them weak.

And yet every time he thought he had you figured out, you did something that threw him off completely.

Because you weren’t supposed to be like this.

Not after everything.

Not after what they had done to you.

He and Niragi had broken you down, twisted your perception, rewired your thoughts. They had been relentless, selfish, cruel—and yet here you were. Smiling, talking, moving through the room like the darkness hadn’t fucking consumed you.

Like you weren’t drowning in everything they had turned you into.

That unsettled him.

Because it made him wonder.

Had they really changed you?

Or were you changing them?

He hated the idea.

Because if that were true, if you were changing them, then that meant you had power over them.

And no one had power over Chishiya.

Not even you.

Especially not you.

Because love wasn’t something he knew.

He had never needed it. Never cared for it. Never wanted it.

And yet, he couldn’t look away from you.

And Niragi? Niragi was already gone.

Neither of them knew how to love.

But if they did—

It would have been you.

❤︎︎ @lizntstoptalking @cherryheairt @fiction-fantasy-folks @monkey4lifer @psychicyouthfox @so-dramatic1 @mypsychoticlove @unhinged-sorcerer @rattymess @mocchii-writes @adanfore @scarlet703 @fluentgoddess @maxinehufflepuffprincess @onyxmango @bluerthanvelvet444 @risingofjupiter @enhasrii

#alice in borderland #aib chishiya #aib niragi #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x reader #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #niragi alice in borderland

139 notes · View notes

leahrintarou · 2 days ago

Note

heyyy!!! i've read through most of your writing and i'm legit obsessed. i know it says your not doing requests rn so if you end up doing this in like a year i don't really mind. could you do fwb for a fem!reader with yuji or some other jjk character? sfw or nsfw or suggestive i don't care, but that would be so cute!!

❀ FWB W/ YUJI ITADORI

synopsis: fwb with yuji, but you both catch feelings despite your promise not to. warnings: college au, barely suggestive, fluff, she/her pronouns, yuji being a cutie pie, "you up?" lol, 2.3k word count. an: the fact that this was in my inbox for so long and I've never gotten the chance to write it until now. so it was borderline ACTUALLY written a year later lmao. i hope you enjoy regardless :') my reqs are open now tho.

y/n’s phone buzzed against the nightstand, the glow of the screen breaking through the dim light of her room. she didn’t need to check—it was always him this late.

yuji: you up?

she stared at the message for a moment, lips pressed together in something between a smile and a sigh. these nights had become a pattern, one they never talked about in daylight, but neither of them seemed to want to stop. she typed back with one hand, the other resting lazily against her stomach.

y/n: door’s open.

it was an invitation, but it never felt like one. more like a habit. like breathing. she tossed her phone aside and leaned back against the pillows, the faint hum of the city outside her window mixing with the quiet of her dorm room. she tried to act like it was no big deal—like his visits didn’t make her pulse quicken, like she wasn’t already anticipating the sound of his footsteps in the hallway.

when the door finally creaked open after a few long minutes, she didn’t need to look up to know it was him. the soft shuffle of his sneakers being kicked off, the rustling of his hoodie as he peeled it over his head—familiar sounds that had started to feel like home in a way she wasn’t sure she liked.

“you always leave your door unlocked like that?” his voice was low, rough around the edges, like he’d been out in the cool night air for too long.

y/n glanced over, meeting his gaze. his hair was a little messy, strands falling over his forehead, and there was that easy grin tugging at his lips—the one that made it harder to keep this casual.

“yeah. for you,” she teased, though it came out softer than she intended.

he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dragging over her—bare legs stretched out under the blanket, her oversized shirt slipping just enough to reveal a hint of collarbone. his gaze lingered, but it wasn’t just lust. there was something else. something warmer.

“dangerous habit,” he muttered, but he was already moving toward her, the weight of his steps making the floor creak in that way she’d come to expect.

he sat at the edge of the bed first, like he always did, his thigh brushing against hers through the blanket. his presence was heavy but not suffocating—it was comforting, in that messy, boyish way only yuji could pull off.

“long day?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more familiar.

he nodded, leaning back on his hands, eyes flicking to the ceiling for a moment before settling back on her. “yeah… thought this might help.”

it was honest. it always was with him. that’s what made it hard sometimes.

she shifted closer, the blanket pooling around her waist, their legs barely touching. his eyes dropped to her bare skin, but he didn’t move—not yet. he was waiting, like he always did, for her to close the gap.

her fingers brushed against his, slow, testing. he didn’t pull away. he never did.

“yeah?” she murmured.

his eyes met hers—warm, familiar, but laced with something heavier. “yeah.”

and just like that, the space between them started to disappear.

-----

the next morning came around and y/n was surprised to feel a weight around her waist. she wasn’t expecting it, but she also didn’t mind it. in fact, she craved it. and that feeling alone made her stomach twist with a deep sense of shame.

yuji’s arm was heavy, draped over her like it belonged there, his chest pressed against her back, warm and steady. his breathing was soft, even, still lost in sleep. she could feel his heartbeat against her spine, and for a moment, she let herself sink into it—let herself enjoy the comfort of his presence without overthinking what it meant.

but it was hard not to.

they promised to keep it casual. no strings, no expectations. just late-night texts and fleeting touches when the weight of their lives became too much. it was supposed to be simple. but the moment he stayed that first night—exhausted from his assignments, passing out before he could pull his clothes back on—that simplicity started to unravel.

it kept happening after that. once turned into twice. twice turned into something like a routine. and now, she woke up more often with him here than without.

it scared her. but it also made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t expected.

she shifted slightly under his arm, trying not to wake him, but he stirred anyway. his hand tightened instinctively around her waist, fingers pressing into the curve of her stomach. he let out a low, sleepy groan, face nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

“n/n… it's too early,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

y/n froze for a second, but then she relaxed, forcing a quiet laugh. “you say that every time.”

he grinned against her skin, eyes still closed. “’cause it’s always true.”

his fingers brushed against her bare skin beneath the hem of her shirt—his shirt, she realized with a flush of heat. sometime during the night, she must’ve grabbed it from the pile of clothes he left here. another bad habit. another line blurred.

she shifted to face him, their noses nearly brushing. his eyes finally cracked open, warm and soft in the early light. there was no teasing smirk this time, no playful comment. just him, looking at her like he was exactly where he wanted to be.

and that was the problem.

“you gotta get up soon?” he asked, voice quieter now.

she shook her head, trying to ignore the way her heart twisted. “nah… you?”

he hesitated, then shrugged. “not really.”

they stayed like that, neither moving, both pretending this wasn’t more than it was.

but it felt like more. it felt like too much.

her chest tightened with the weight of it, but she swallowed it down. because if she said something—if she admitted that maybe she liked waking up next to him, that maybe she liked him more than she should—it would ruin this. whatever this was.

so, she smiled instead, reaching up to brush his messy hair out of his face. “guess you’re stuck with me a little longer then.”

his grin returned, but it was softer this time. “good. i like being stuck with you.”

y/n was used to yuji’s honesty, especially when it came to him expressing his feelings in friendships, but for some reason, she felt like this was different. y/n blamed her exhaustion, blurry brain, and lack of caffeine for these thoughts. yuji was always friendly to pretty much everyone so why would she be an exception? "y/n." yuji's voice sounded as if it faded in and when she looked at his expression of confusion, she realized that he had probably called her name more than once.

"sorry i spaced out."

"i can see that." he laughed teasingly. "are you done spacing out now?"

"probably not, but what's up?" she questioned. yuji was quiet for a moment. very out of the ordinary. there was a nervous smile on his lips and y/n’s anxiety only heightened at his unusual behavior. "i was contemplating last night and i came over here to you to finally make a decision..." he started. y/n could hear her own heartbeat and she hoped that it wasn't loud enough for yuji to hear too. what excuse could she use to give reasoning behind her fast pacing heartbeat?

"which was?" she asked, voice just above a whisper. "i think we should call this whole friends with benefits thing off. not because of you or anything. i just made a shitty mistake that i can't undo no matter how hard i try."

y/n was silent and it felt piercing. what could his reasoning be? what if he caught onto her recent behavior when it came to her interactions with him? extended eye contact, those poor excuses to create physical contact, or even the need to speak to him about anything and everything. he probably reassured her and took the blame to soften the blow of this sudden conversation.

"do you mind telling me what that mistake was?"

yuji sat up, the blanket falling from his body and revealing his bare half. y/n took a glance at him before her eyes darted back up to his eyes. yuji turned away, embarrassment all over his features. "I'd put a shirt on...but.." he smiled nodding towards the shirt that y/n was currently wearing. she would've given it to him in a heartbeat if it weren't for the fact that she wore nothing underneath. "no it's fine. I'm sorry. i can go change into my own and give it back-"

"no, no. seriously its fine. i like when you wear my clothes." he smiled. his words came out with that familiar teasing sounding tone and y/n felt a wave of butterflies in her stomach. "but to answer your question, i kinda sorta broke our no strings attached rule."

y/n felt as if her ears were playing tricks on her but when’s yuji continued, she couldn't deny what was being spoken right in front of her. "i definitely have some strings attached. i know it's sudden and we both agreed to not let it happen but you know..."

y/n’s heart raced as yuji’s words lingered in the air, and for a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence. she could see the nervousness creeping into his eyes, the way he shifted slightly, as if unsure of himself.

she had always been able to read him, but this time, something was different. something was off. yuji’s usual confidence seemed to be faltering, and it made her hesitate. she wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

“y/n?” he said quietly, voice tinged with uncertainty. his gaze dropped to her lips, then quickly shifted away. “i know this is sudden, and i’m probably messing things up. i get it if you don’t feel the same, but...”

y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she processed his words. did he really think she didn’t feel the same? wasn’t it obvious by now? all the lingering touches, the way her heart fluttered when he was near. but still, a part of her hesitated. did he really want this? or was this just another one of those moments where they both pretended to be okay with the casual thing, despite everything?

she shifted slightly, her body inching closer to him. the tension between them thickened. yuji’s eyes flicked back to hers, and there it was again—self-doubt. he thought she didn’t want him back.

she wanted to kiss him. her body screamed for it. but her mind was still tangled in confusion, in fear of ruining the fragile space they had created. she stayed frozen, her lips parted slightly as she debated whether or not to make the first move.

yuji noticed. he must've seen it in her eyes—the hesitation, the uncertainty—and his face softened with a hint of frustration, but also something deeper. something vulnerable.

“y/n...” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. he reached out, gently cupping her chin to bring her face closer to his. “i told you... i like you. not just as a friend. i’ve liked you for a while now. i wouldn’t have stayed over... i wouldn’t have kept coming back if it was just some casual thing for me.”

her heart skipped a beat. the words he had said, so simple and clear, finally broke through her hesitation. he liked her back. she had been afraid—afraid to be too obvious, afraid to let him see the depth of what she felt. but now, hearing him say it, hearing the sincerity in his voice, it was impossible to deny.

without thinking, y/n leaned in, closing the small gap between them. her lips brushed against his softly at first, testing, as if still unsure. but then yuji’s hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

it was urgent but soft, and it quickly deepened, growing more desperate with every passing second. his hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer, his body pressing against hers as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she kissed him back, a mix of emotions flooding her—relief, desire, something warmer she hadn’t expected. the kiss was messy, full of unspoken words, and every time she felt him pull away for a breath, he came right back to her, as if there was no place else he wanted to be.

yuji moaned into their kiss, feeling as though it was the first and last time he'd ever get to experience something so exhilarating. she pulled back and yuji practically chased after her lips for a small peck. his eyes found her own and y/n slightly tilted her head to the side.

y/n smiled softly, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as she looked into his eyes, now filled with the same longing she felt. “you’re not messing this up, yuji," she whispered, her voice a little shaky but filled with certainty. "you were never just some casual thing to me."

yuji’s smile returned, but it was softer, more vulnerable this time. “so... we’re not just friends with benefits anymore, then?”

“no,” she murmured, her lips curling into a small, genuine smile. “not anymore.”

his grin widened at that, a playful spark dancing in his eyes. “good,” he said, leaning in for another kiss, this one slower, but no less filled with all the things they hadn’t said yet.

and this time, y/n didn’t hesitate. she let herself get lost in it. especially when his warm hand snaked underneath her his shirt.

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

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

got a request in mind? send it in! :)

107 notes · View notes

insidekatmind · 8 hours ago

Text

Gym instructor~Wi Ha-joon

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

The sound of weights hitting each other echoes through the gym, accompanied by the low hum of cardio machines and the labored breathing of those working out. The air smells of sweat and determination, but most of all of him.

Wi Ha Joon.

He’s been your personal trainer for a few months now, and every time you work out under his watchful eye, your heartbeat accelerates, but not from fatigue. It’s from the way he watches you, his dark eyes studying you with an almost imperceptible hunger. His presence is a magnet, a shadow that follows you to every corner of the gym.

Today is one of those days when you feel particularly tired, but he’s there, ready to motivate you.

“Come on, you can do this,” he says in a low, deep voice, settling down next to you as you attempt another exercise. “Just one more.”

His hands rest on your hips to correct your posture, and the touch makes you jump slightly. It shouldn’t be this intimate, yet you can’t move. You feel trapped between the weight of the exercise and his suffocating closeness.

“You’re strong,” he murmurs next to your ear. “I like seeing how hard you work.”

You hold your breath, trying to ignore the way his tone seems to hide something deeper, darker. But when you finish the set of the exercise, you feel his fingers slowly slide up your arm, pausing for a moment on your wrist. His touch is fleeting, almost as if he’s testing your reaction.

“You’re tense,” he comments, a hint of a smile. “Do you want me to help you loosen up?”

You nod without thinking too much, still confused by the effort. He’s waiting for nothing else. He leads you to a more secluded room in the gym, the one reserved for stretching and post-workout massages. The place is almost empty, only the dim lights and the silence between the two of you.

“Lie down,” he says, his command heavy enough to make your hands shake. You obey, stretching out on the mat as he kneels beside you. His large hands begin to press gently into your muscles, releasing tension with expert movements.

But something changes.

The massage slows, his fingers sliding into places that have nothing to do with muscle tension. His breathing deepens, and you realize too late that the distance between your bodies is almost nonexistent.

“You train so hard…” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper against your skin. “Sometimes I wonder if anyone cares for you outside of

You hold your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers trace a slow path up your spine. You want to stand up, you want to say something, but your body feels stuck, trapped between the subtle pleasure of his touch and the fear that gnaws at your stomach.

He notices your breath hitching, and his touch becomes more deliberate, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His breath fans across your skin, warm and intoxicating.

"You're so tense," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "I can feel it in every muscle."

He shifts closer, his chest now pressed against your back, his body heat enveloping you. You can feel his heart racing, just as fast as yours.

Your mind is spinning, a whirlwind of feelings you've never experienced before. His touch is soft yet possessive, his voice a velvet trap. He continues to use his fingers to trace slow, languid circles over your back, his hands moving with a confidence that borders on arrogance.

"You should let yourself go," he murmurs, his mouth now close to your ear. His breath tickles the sensitive skin in a way that's both intimate and infuriating. "You're too tense for your own good."

He presses his body against yours, his chest now flush against your back, his hands moving down to your hips. He grips them firmly, his fingers digging into your skin as he holds you in place.

"Let me help you relax," he whispers, his lips hovering just above your earlobe. "You need it."

He turns his head slightly, and you feel the soft brush of his hair against your neck. His lips are so close, you can almost feel them on your skin.

"You're so... beautiful," he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of awe.

You're frozen in place, your mind swimming in a whirlwind of sensations. His firm grip on your hips feels almost primal, like he's claiming you. His voice in your ear is a sinful whisper that makes your body tremble.

"I've been watching you for so long," he whispers, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "You have no idea what your body does to me."

Your breath catches in your throat as his lips drift lower, tracing a path down your neck. His touch is becoming less subtle, more demanding. His hands move, sliding under the fabric of your top, inching up your sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Can you feel it?" he murmurs, his lips now against the exposed skin of your shoulder. "How much I want you? How much I've always wanted you."

He presses his body even closer to yours, his chest now flush against your back, his legs trapping you in place. His hands continue to roam over your skin, his touch possessive and almost desperate.

"I've watched you, every time you come to the gym," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "I've seen the way you move, the way you struggle, the way you pant."

His fingers slide under the edge of your bra, his touch lingering on your bare skin.

"I can't take it anymore," he confesses, his voice rough with need. "I want you. I need you."

You're completely enveloped by him, his body surrounding you, his touch searing through your senses. Your breathing is laboured, your body responding to his every touch with a heady mix of desire and fear. His words, his touch, everything about him is overwhelming, intoxicating.

"I can't deny it anymore," he whispers, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses. "I want to taste you, to mark you as mine."

“Ha-joon,” you tried to say.

He freezes for a moment, his body tensing against yours. He seems to relish in the sound of his name leaving your lips. He presses himself even closer, his hands gripping you almost possessively.

"Say it again," he demands, his voice hoarse with need. "Say my name again."You hesitate, your mind hazy with desire. You can feel him everywhere, every inch of your body hyper-aware of his presence. Finally, you surrender, his name leaving your lips in a needy whisper.

"Ha-joon."

The sound seems to ignite something primitive within him. He lets out a guttural moan, his hands roaming over your body with feverish intensity.

He wastes no time in undressing you both, his hands moving with practiced ease. As soon as he's finished, he pushes you down onto the mat, his body covering yours.

He presses himself against you, his erection grinding against your chest. He lets out a low groan, his hands roaming over your body, touching and exploring every inch of you.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he murmurs, his voice a mixture of need and frustration. "How long I've been imagining this moment."

You're overwhelmed by his need, unable to do anything but surrender to him. He's everywhere, surrounding you with his presence, his touch setting your skin on fire. His body is hard and unyielding against yours, his hands roaming over you with an intensity that's bordering on possessive.

His lips find yours, his kiss rough and desperate, his tongue plunging into your mouth. He takes control, his body pinning you down, leaving you helpless to do anything but surrender.

He moves down your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin, leaving behind a trail of marks.

He captures your lips again, his kiss becoming more demanding, more possessive. His hips grind against you, his erection pressing against your stomach, demanding attention.

He breaks the kiss again, panting against your lips. "Say it," he demands, his eyes locking onto yours. "Say you're mine."

He looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire and need, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each ragged breath.

You're lost in the abyss of desire, your mind foggy with need. The only thing you can focus on is him, his body, his touch, his words.

"I'm yours," you whisper, your voice a needy pant. "Completely, utterly, yours."

He growls at those words, his eyes darkening even further. He leans down, his mouth trailing down your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin.

"Say it again," he demands, his voice hoarse with need. "Say that you belong to me."

You comply, your voice a needy, desperate plea. "I belong to you," you gasp, your body arching against his.

He smirks at that, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He captures your lips once again, his kiss hard and possessive.

He devours your lips, his tongue plunging into your mouth, claiming you in a way that's both primal and possessive.

He breaks the kiss, pulling away just enough to look at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed face.

"Good girl," he whispers, his voice rough with satisfaction. "You're so good for me."

He moves down your body, trailing kisses and bites along your skin, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. He pauses at your chest, his lips hovering over one of your nipples.

You arch your back, your body responding to his touch with a need that's primitive and unstoppable. His tongue darts out, circling your nipple before taking it into his mouth. You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Ha-joon," you breathe, your voice a needy pant. "Please... I need you."

He responds, his mouth leaving your nipple with a wet pop, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

"You'll have me," he whispers, his voice low and rough. "But first, I want to taste every inch of you."

He positions himself on top of you, straddling your face.He puts his cock in your mouth. He leans down, his mouth hovering over your pussy, his breath hot against your skin.

"Hold on tight," he says, his voice a mixture of teasing and command. "This is going to be a bit intense."

With that, he lowers his head, his tongue darting out to taste you. He starts by licking and sucking at your clit, his tongue moving in circles around the sensitive bud.

You wrap your lips around his cock, sucking and licking as he does the same to you. The feeling of his tongue on your clit is almost too much to handle, and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each passing moment.

He moans against your pussy, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through your body. He flicks his tongue over your clit, teasing and tasting you in a way that's both intoxicating and maddening.

It's a game of domination and submission. You both take and give in equal measure, the cycle of taking and giving creating a whirlwind of sensations you have never experienced. You're lost in the abyss of pleasure, your body belonging to him completely.The game of domination and submission continues, the two of you giving and taking in equal measure. Every time he teases and licks your clit, you moan around his cock, sending waves of pleasure through him.

He can feel you getting closer to the edge, your body trembling beneath him. He moves his tongue faster, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you in place.

The sensations are too much, your mind a swirling vortex of desire and need. He knows it, he can feel it in the way your body trembles and shivers with each passing moment.

Ha-joon moves his hips roughly to fuck your mouth.

He can feel your body trembling beneath him, the way your mouth and tongue work against his cock, driving him closer to the edge.

He thrusts his hips roughly, using your mouth and tongue to his advantage. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his fingers gripping your thighs so hard that they're sure to leave marks.

"That's it," he gasps, his voice strained. "You're so good for me, taking me so well."

His words are both a praise and a command, adding fuel to the fire burning within you. But there's something else there, a hint of something darker, something possessive. It's like he's claiming you in the most intimate way possible, using your body to assert his dominance. You're his, completely and utterly.

His words only serve to fuel the fire inside you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel his body tensing above you, his hips moving faster and faster, his grip on your thighs almost bruising.

He lets out a low growl, his breath ragged and heavy. "I'm so close," he gasps, his voice strained. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop."

Ha-joon continues to suck your clit like a hungry man while slamming his cock ever harder into your mouth.

The sensation is almost too much to handle, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm. You wrap your lips around him tighter, sucking harder, wanting to give him everything he needs.

He can feel your body clenching around him, and it pushes him closer to the edge. He thrusts into your mouth one last time, his hips bucking against you, his body tensing as he comes with a low moan.

His moans against your clit are like a symphony of pleasure, sending shockwaves of sensation through your body. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the sound of his voice alone almost enough to push you over the edge.

He continues to thrust into your mouth, his body still shuddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He continues to thrust into your mouth, each movement sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. He can feel your body trembling beneath him, and it only fuels his own desire.

Ha joon continues to tease your g-spot.

The sensations are all too overwhelming, and you realize that words to be exchanged between you, but actions, actions is all you can share now. The only thing that matters, him, you, and the waves of ecstasy washing over your bodies.You feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body trembling with the force of your impending orgasm. You can't speak, can't form words, can only moan and whimper around his cock, your body begging for release.

He can feel your desperation, your need, and he responds by thrusting harder, his grip on your thighs tightening. He knows he's pushing you to the limit, but he wants to see you come apart completely.

You arch your back, your body begging for release. You feel like you're dangling over a precipice, teetering on the edge, ready to fall into a spiral of ecstasy.

The sensations are too much to handle, too much to describe, too much to take. You're lost in the vortex of desire, drowning in the overwhelming sensations his touch and his voice bring to you.

You come hard, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. You can feel his release on your tongue, his taste filling your mouth as he groans in pleasure.

He continues to thrust into your mouth, riding out the last waves of his orgasm, his body shuddering against yours.

As the sensations subsided, you both collapse beside each other in a tangle of limbs, both of you covered in a sheen of sweat, breathless and spent.

He pulls you close, his arms wrapped around you possessively, the need to claim and own you still lingering in his every touch.

#wi ha joon x reader #wi ha joon #smut imagine #jun ho squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x oc #squid game x fem!reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game imagines #squid game smut #squid game fic

51 notes · View notes

dumbgoondog · 24 hours ago

Note

For the sundae ask could I do GN!reader 🍓on 🍨, in 🟠 for Mahito please and thank you! 🖤

Mahito Sundae

GN!Reader, Strawberry on Vanilla in an orange bowl. Mahito loves you and sometimes he’s a bit rough with how he expresses his love for you!

Cw/Tw - Degrading, rough, unprotected s3x, ribbed d, non human d, weird cum, impact play, choking, spitting, blood, dumbification, objectification, breeding k1nk, knotting, reader being transfigured some, double penetration, stomach bulge, collars, crying, slight death threat(s3xually), MAHITO. Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

DD:DNE As in all those Cw/Tw are serious. All of that is in this fic. Had a nasty anon shitin on me for my other fics for not havin “clear enough TWs.” And the listed tws bein in the fic causin them to spiral.

“Ooh I love how tight-“ Mahito huffs a lazy tongue lapping at your neck from behind his hips giving quick rough smacks into yours. Sweet and filthy squelching from how slick with lube Mahito has poured on his cock, the rough ridges he’s created stretching and rubbing your entrance’s muscles. You’re whimpering and about whine for him to slow but Mahito’s fingers are quick into your mouth wrestling your tongue and he laughs, “Yeaaahhh that’s it heheh~ you’re basically sucking me in!”

“Mmph- mahi- mahi plea-! Slow!” You plead tears in the corner of your eyes, the rough pain giving a delightful pleasure. Mahito can only breathily chuckle rubbing his head against yours like a cat scenting something, “That’s not the safe word, now is it? You like when I use you as my little cock sleeve don’t you?”

He wasn’t lying, you weren’t using the safe word and you did love this rough treatment. Plus how noisy he’s being, how he’s talking more at your request, because you’ve always loved that slight condescending lilt to his voice. The way his moans were so giggly and drunken with pleasure contrasting to how feverishly he fucked you.

Embarrassing that he’s calling you out, but when you try to look away he pulls out his fingers and cock smacking your ass roughly. You yelp, from the quick sting to the lack of his fat cock stuffing you and making you twitch. He rubs a circle over your ass delivering another quick strike a sharp sting and warmth blistering on your ass.

You whimper, hands grabbing onto the sheets knowing better than to try and object punishment but Mahito only giggles. You feel his thumb move to your hole and start to finger you while the rest of his hand grope your ass spreading and pulling. His happy little hums and quiet purrs from watching you twitch under his light touches was intoxicating he loves watching how your body reacts to him.

Then it hit him, a brilliant idea.

There’s a slight discomfort for a moment, then warmth floods your body similar to when Mahito wraps around you to hold you. That wasn’t what was happening however, as the weight in the bed didn’t shift at all so you paused to quirk a brow back at Mahito. He’s sitting back there still humming and smiling happily but now his fisting his cock thick globs of pre building and dripping onto- the second cock he’s formed.

The two are no longer human shaped with ridges but rather weird tentacles with a knot at the base of BOTH. They twist are curl around his hand as he strokes seeking the pleasure out. He catches your gaze and gives that cheeky toothy grin with a little laugh, “heheh surpriiiiissseee~ but you should see yourself! I made your entrance a little flowering tentacle thing and it’s trying so hard to pull more of me in! You’re so desperate that even with new anatomy you’re still dying to be filled up huh?”

Your eyes widen, realizing that the warmth was Mahito transfiguring you and that apparently your body is that weak-! However, Mahito sits up an arm extending out to grab something from the floor, retrieving yours and his matching collars. He clicks his on and leans over you to click yours on and without even moving his hips you can feel the tips of the tentacled dicks slipping and pushing into your entrance.

Both of you shiver, gasp, and make pleasured sounds only one cock fully pushing into your gummy wet hole the other still prying and pushing at the entrance. Mahito reaches down spreading you more with one hand and the other arm putting you into a chokehold. Your choked gasp comes from being put in a hold and the twin length starting to bully into your heat to join its twin.

Warm wet tears spill over as his cocks stretch you a bit too painfully so, and they’re squirming inside of you. The hand spreading you moves to hold your stomach and he gives a sharp shaky giggle mesmerized. His arm around your neck squeezes as he licks at your ear, “haaahhh, I can feel myself! M-moving inside of your filthy body! Disgusting human~”

You reach up to pull at his arm around his neck nails scratching and clawing as drool slips past your lips. Mahito’s rolling his hips into yours, hand on your stomach palming his cocks from the outside and you could feel it. He keeps giving shaky little laughs as he feels you squirm and claw, “aww, still no safe word? You really like this? I can feel you squeezing in pleasure and that flower I gave you is trying to suck my cocks off! You’re such a fun toy, I’m glad you don’t break easy, otherwise I’d need a new one.”

A whine from your lips is all he needs as his hips start pulling back before pushing back in, painfully slow. You had a moment to adjust so it wasn’t as painful, a kindness from your love, but now you wanted more. What’s worse is whatever he means by “tentacle flower”, is telling him everything he wants to know, that you’re loving this.

His cocks writhe, twist, squirm, and push into every dip inside of you reaching places you didn’t even know about. He’s giggling drunkenly now pants are mixing in, and his chokehold is becoming a little too tight. With a final slow push in and pull out you feel the twins twist around each other to almost act like one massive length and you brace yourself.

Smack- Smack- Smack-! His pace is hard and he’s pulling you up now back arching like you’re doing yoga. The hand on your stomach moves to grab your cheeks tilting your head back. He’s smiling at you tongue hanging from his mouth and a pleased look to his eyes as he leans in like he’s going to kiss you but spits in your mouth instead.

From the angle you choke on it and gag, startled, but you have little time to fix yourself as his tongue burrows into your mouth and throat. A euphoric purr rumbles from his chest and his pace gets more spastic and rough. You’re choking now and need air, clawing at his arms is doing nothing, so you bite hard onto his tongue.

He jerks back, releasing you. You drop onto the bed as he slows his thrusts, and you cough tentatively rubbing at your throat. Mahito slows to a near stop now and leans over you to look at your face tilting his head, “too much? Yellow?”

You give a weak nod and he leans in kissing your forehead with a nod of his own. He gives a little laugh while you both take a second and sticks out his tongue. He’s bleeding, from a bite mark ring around his tongue but he seems to like it, “this is pretty! I like it. You should bite me more!”

You both laugh and he twitches inside pulling a little shiver and gasp from both of you. You glance to one another and feel one of the twins melt back into his body so it’s not as big of a stretch. You reach back a bit cheekily and grab his collar gaining a little “oh!” From him as you hold onto and tug it.

You can see the giddy expression from the corner of your eye and he’s happy to oblige starting to thrust and fuck into you again. Both of his hand move to your hips steadying himself, and his bleeding tongue is dripping onto your shoulder as you keep him by the collar. He starts to whimper feeling you squeeze as you’re getting close to cumming and he’s not far behind.

“G-gonna give you a baby,” he starts panting and you smile knowing this was his little way of saying he was getting close. Every time without fail he starts to babble about knocking you up, making you a parent, how he’ll take care of you too. You moan feeling his stuttering hips start to pick up a more frantic pace, “gonna breed you, fill you up! My-my seed-!”

You’re moaning as he babbles incoherently now licking at your ear and cheek with whines of pleasure and you feel that tight coil in yourself spring up. Your climax washes over you and you squeeze around him making him groan and shake. It’s not long before he’s smacking in pumping thick ropes into your body and panting, the dark purplish fluid spilling out and making rings around his base staining everything.

You feel him start to push though, a stinging stretch as that knot starts to bully its way in to lock you two together. He whimpers in pleasure holding onto you tightly and you push back with a whine of your own at the slight pain. POP! He’s in now though, and that full feeling keeping all of his cum in is so worth it.

He flops laying on top of you, both of you sticky with sweat, a bit of blood, and drool. He’s purring and massaging your ass as you reach to grab the paper towels to wipe your shoulder and back off some. He beats you to it though and is licking you clean, making you laugh and cringe in playful disgust.

#goon dog #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #x reader #jjk smut #smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #headcanon #tw mahito #mahito smut #mahito x reader #jjk mahito #mahito #fan fic writing #fan fiction #fanfic

58 notes · View notes

earthtoharlow · 21 hours ago

Text

HIT THE LIGHS

3rd installment of the Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights & Don’t Like The Lights first to understand

series masterlist

3. The Journey

“I love them more than anything in the world, but sometimes… I miss how things used to be. Before the kids. When it was just us.” Maryse hesitated, swallowing the guilt rising in her throat. “I know it sounds selfish, and I hate even thinking it, but I miss the simplicity. I miss you and me without all the extra weight. And lately, it feels like we’re not even on the same page anymore.”

Jack listened in silence, his expression unreadable, though her words hit harder than he wanted to admit. After a moment, he simply said, “Go on.”

She took a breath, her voice unsteady. “I’m so grateful for our babies. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. But I miss having your full attention. I miss just… breathing. I miss laughing about nothing, staying up all night talking, not constantly thinking about schedules, diapers, or how exhausted we are.”

Jack reached for her hand, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. “That doesn’t sound selfish,” he said softly.

Her eyes stung, but she blinked back the tears. “It doesn’t?”

“No,” he said firmly. “It sounds human. This is a huge change for both of us. Missing what we had before doesn’t mean we love them—or each other—any less.”

A shaky laugh escaped her. “I was so scared to say it out loud. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t happy or that I regret anything.”

“I’d never think that,” he reassured her. “I get it. I really do. I feel the same way sometimes. But you’re right—we need to find space for us again.”

Relief washed over her. She had been terrified he’d misunderstand, that he’d think she was ungrateful. But she wasn’t. She loved their life, their babies, him.

Jack ran a hand down his face, nodding as he processed her words. Then, after a beat, he looked at her. “Is it my turn now?”

She gave a small, hesitant nod, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie.

He exhaled, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Alright… I’ve been holding a lot in too.” He hesitated before meeting her eyes. “I was more upset than I let on about you posting the twins without talking to me first.”

Her stomach dropped, guilt settling in. “I know,” she admitted softly.

“I get why you did it,” he continued. “I knew something must’ve happened that made you feel like you had to post them right then. But it still stung, you know? We’ve kept them private for so long, and then I wake up and see them on my feed like everyone else. And instead of hearing it from you, I had to hear about it from my best friend.”

She swallowed hard, guilt pressing deep in her chest. “I should’ve told you first,” Maryse whispered.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, then let out a sigh. “And I should’ve told you how I really felt instead of brushing it off like it was nothing.” He sat back, watching her. “I don’t wanna be like that. I want us to talk about things, even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially now that we have kids. I want them to grow up in a house where their parents don’t hide their feelings, no matter how hard it is to say them out loud.”

Something tightened in Maryse’s chest—not in a bad way, but in a way that made her realize just how much he was trying.

She nodded slowly, still gripping the fabric of his hoodie. “I want that too,” she said, and she meant it.

Jack studied her for a moment before his gaze dropped to her hand, where the promise ring gleamed on her finger. He tilted his head slightly. “You remember what I said when I gave that to you?”

She did. The memory of that night in Paris rushed back—him sitting across from her in their hotel room, the way he turned the ring between his fingers, the way he looked at her when he said, I don’t want to be with anyone else but you. I want us to keep building our future together.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded.

“Then think about that every time you start doubting how I feel about you,” he said, his voice softer now, more certain. “Because I meant every word.”

His eyes stayed on her, unwavering. “And I’m gonna prove it to you—every day, for the rest of your life—until you believe it. Until you realize I’m not going anywhere.”

Her breath hitched, fingers tightening on his hoodie.

“You gotta stop letting other people’s opinions get in your head,” he continued, his voice firm but gentle. “They don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through—what we have.” He shook his head. “I’m here. I’ve been here. And I’m always gonna be here.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she looked at him—the man who had been by her side through everything. The highs, the lows, the moments that shattered her and the ones that put her back together.

And for the first time in a while, she let herself believe it..

Maryse didn’t say anything at first. Instead, she climbed into his lap, settling against him like it was second nature. Her arms looped around his neck as she pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the curve of it. She felt the deep exhale he let out, the way his grip on her tightened instinctively.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured against his skin. “For always running away.” She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her fingers tracing absently over the back of his head. “I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Jack studied her, searching her face like he needed to be sure she meant it.

“Good,” he finally said, voice low. “’Cause I need you here.”

“I am here,” she promised. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

His arms wrapped more securely around her, his fingers trailing slow circles on her back. “It really upsets me when you walk away like that. I get that sometimes we need space, but leaving isn’t the answer. We’re in this for life, baby.”

She swallowed hard, guilt settling deep in her chest. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Jack tilted her chin up, making sure she was looking at him. “We’re gonna go through stuff. That’s just what happens when you love somebody. But I need you to remember—we’re gonna get through it together. You hear me?”

She nodded, her throat tight with emotion.

“And you still gotta give me ten kids.”

A watery laugh slipped out as she smacked his chest lightly. “Ten is crazy.”

“I’m just saying,” he teased, his lips brushing against hers. “We make cute babies.”

Maryse softened, tracing a finger along his jaw. “We do make cute kids.” Then she sighed, glancing toward the door. “I miss them… Should we go get them?”

Jack shook his head immediately, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “Nah… best part about arguing is makeup sex.”

Her eyes widened as she gasped, laughing just as he suddenly grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. “Oh my God! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said, patting her thigh as he carried her out of the living room. “You started this, now you gotta finish it.”

She kept laughing, kicking her feet playfully. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

Jack tossed her onto the bed, and Maryse barely had a second to react before he was on top of her. Their lips crashed together, hands roaming, tugging at each other’s clothes with the kind of desperation that only came after a fight. Her fingers fumbled with his waistband, ready to yank his pants down when he suddenly stilled.

She blinked up at him, breathless. “What’s wrong?”

Jack exhaled, running a hand over his face. “Wait… I won’t drop the song.”

For a second, she almost didn’t register what he was saying—until it hit her. The song. The argument. The whole reason they were even in this moment.

She propped herself up on her elbows, searching his face. “Are you serious?”

He nodded. “If it upsets you, I won’t drop it.”

Her heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice. He was willing to set aside something important to him for her. But she shook her head, reaching up to cup his face. “No… you have to drop it. I would never forgive myself if I stopped you from releasing something you worked hard on.”

His eyes stayed on hers. “You sure?”

She nodded firmly. “Yes. I don’t ever want to be the reason you hold back on your music. I just… I needed to talk to you about it. That’s all.”

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “You could’ve just talked to me from the jump instead of storming off.”

Maryse rolled her eyes. “Are we really doing this right now?”

Jack chuckled, leaning back down to kiss her. “Nah… we got better things to do.”

His lips brushed against her ear as he murmured, “You can be as loud as you want… it’s just us.”

Her breath hitched, fingers digging into his back as he pressed deeper against her. The reminder sent a shiver down her spine—no interruptions, no worrying about waking the twins, just the two of them, lost in each other.

She let go, her moans filling the space between them. He groaned in response, loving the way she unraveled beneath him. “That’s my girl,” he murmured against her lips before kissing her deeply, swallowing every sound she made..

With every movement, the tension from their argument dissolved, replaced by something deeper—something unbreakable. Jack’s grip on Maryse’s hips was firm, pulling her closer like he could never get enough. His breath was hot against her ear as he leaned in, his voice rough with emotion.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I’m never gonna leave you. You hear me?”

Her heart clenched at his words, her nails pressing into his back as she held him tighter. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice trembling from the intensity of it all.

“Say it again,” he pleaded, his tone softer now—vulnerable.

“I love you,” she said without hesitation. That’s when she saw it—the glint of unshed tears in his eyes. Something inside her cracked wide open, and she pulled him down into a slow, aching kiss.

When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his, her lips brushing his as she whispered, “You’re the love of my life. Always.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands trembling slightly as he held her even closer. “Again,” he begged, his voice barely above a breath.

“You’re the love of my life,” she repeated, her lips ghosting over his with every word. “And nothing is ever gonna change that.”

The tears finally fell, and she kissed them away, cradling his face as if her touch alone could make him whole. In that moment, nothing else existed—just them, their love, and the quiet promises stitching them back together.

As they lay tangled in the sheets, their breaths still uneven, Jack pulled her closer, arms tightening around her like he was afraid she might slip away. His face was buried in her hair, his hands spread across her back, holding her as if he could fuse them together.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured after a moment.

Maryse frowned, her fingers tracing lazy patterns down his spine. “For what?”

“For crying,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She pulled back just enough to see his face, cupping his cheeks in her hands. “Don’t ever apologize for that,” she told him firmly, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You never have to be sorry for feeling something with me.”

His eyes searched hers, looking for reassurance, and she gave it to him the only way she knew how—by pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. When she pulled away, she rested her forehead against his. “I love you,” she whispered. “Every part of you—including the part that feels things deeply.”

His arms tightened around her again as he let out a shaky breath, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I love you too,” he murmured, this time with certainty.

Maryse exhaled softly. “Are we friends again?” she asked, exhaustion and relief woven into her voice.

Jack pulled her even closer, as if to make up for lost time. “The best of friends,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Lovers, even.”

She smiled against his skin, but before she could respond, he sighed. “I hate when we argue,” he admitted. “I know we’re going to disagree sometimes, but I don’t want it to feel like we’re on opposite sides.”

She nestled deeper into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. “Me too,” she whispered. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

His hand trailed down her back in a soothing motion. “Then let’s work on it. No more shutting down. No more running.”

She nodded, the promise unspoken but understood in the way she held onto him.

“And we can’t let anyone rush us,” he added, his voice steady. “I love where we are right now. We don’t have to sprint toward the altar just because people expect it.”

Maryse lifted her head slightly to study him. “You don’t want to get married?”

He chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “M, I’d do it in a heartbeat,” he admitted. “But I want us to take our time—enjoy being parents, enjoy figuring things out. I don’t want us to move faster just because the world is watching.”

She held his gaze for a moment before nodding. “You’re right. I love where we are too.”

His lips brushed against her forehead. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m in this forever, no matter how long it takes.”

They were quiet for a moment as they were still tangled up in the sheets. Jack lazily traced circles on Maryse’s back, his fingers warm against her skin. His voice was low and teasing when he murmured, “We should call my mom and wish the twins goodnight.”

Maryse hummed in agreement, snuggling closer. “Yeah, we should.”

He smirked. “And then, after that, we can get back to making up properly.”

She gasped, smacking his chest, making him laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah yeah, I know” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple as he reached for his phone.

A moment later, his mom answered the video call, and the screen filled with the sight of London and Noah, fresh out of the bath and dressed in their pajamas.

“Hi, my babies!” Maryse cooed, sitting up slightly

London immediately tried to kiss the phone, her little lips smushing against the screen, while Noah waved with his tiny hand, grinning.

Jack chuckled. “Y’all miss us?”

Noah babbled something incoherent, and Jack’s mom appeared in the background, smiling. “They’ve been good, but I think they’re wondering where their parents are.”

Maryse pouted. “We miss them so much.”

London clapped her hands, and both Jack and Maryse laughed, soaking in the moment.

“We’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Jack said.

“Love you, sweethearts,” Maryse added.

As the call ended, she sighed happily, resting her head on his chest.

“They’re perfect,” she whispered.

“They are,” he agreed, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head. He let a beat of silence pass before smirking. “Now, where were we?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight her smile as he shifted above her again, his hands already wandering.

***

AN: 💜🥹 thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts!!! Next chapter will come out on the twins birthday 🤭

Tag List

@harlowsbby @heavyhitterheaux @harlowcomehome @https-harlow @hoodharlow @gazebotori @itsyagirljaz @cosypinky2 @theyoganarrative @ann2sno @bugheadfanatic @umicornlove @venice-bxtch @muli-wam @jackharlow502 @aga21 @iknowdatsrightbih @theboujeestofboujee @babygirl-htx @chantelaustingunn @wabi-sabi1090 @dstark-0706 @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @firepuma @easternparkway

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x you #Jack Harlow x oc #Jack Harlow dad #flashing lights

21 notes · View notes

aylacavebear · 23 hours ago

Text

Bloodlines & Fate Chapter 6

Being Touched should have been a blessing—a mark of honor in your lineage, celebrated by your pack since childhood. But to you, it's always made you feel like an outsider, never really fitting in anywhere. Yeah, you had your best friend Jess, but for you, something always felt like it was missing. The land your pack runs on during the full moons brings you a sense of peace you don't fully understand, at first.

Paring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader/You

Word Count: 4638

Warning: Angst, longing, some Fluff. Not much that I can think of.

A/N: Professor Robert Zimmerman is based off of The Doctor from Star Trek Voyager, as I absolutely love that character. Alaric Saltzman is from The Vampire Diaries.

A/N: It's my first attempt with an A/B/O fic, be gentle please. I hope you like it. Not sure how many chapters this will be yet.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 6

Summer settled into an easy rhythm, days stretching long and golden beneath the warmth of the sun, nights spent tangled in quiet conversation beneath the endless sprawl of stars.

For the first time in years, Jess wasn’t just your best friend—she was someone experiencing the same whirlwind of emotions, the same breath-stealing realization that fate had stepped in and rewritten her story in a single moment. She spent every possible second gushing about Sam, retelling their conversations with wide-eyed wonder, as if she was still trying to convince herself it was real.

You and Dean spent a lot of time together, too, nearly as much as Jess and Sam had. The two of you talked, sometimes for hours, but there was always something hanging in the air—words left unsaid, feelings neither of you seemed ready to put a name to. The conversations would get close, hovering on the edge of something real, something important… and then, without fail, something would interrupt. A ringing phone. A passing packmate. A reason—any reason—not to say what you both knew was waiting just beneath the surface.

It was starting to feel like fate was playing a cruel joke.

“You know what’s crazy?” she mused one evening, laying on your bed with her feet kicked up against the headboard, a soft breeze drifting through the open window. “We were both going to the same college this whole time. Same damn school, same campus. And if I hadn’t met him here, I never would’ve known.”

You grinned from where you were sitting at your desk, flipping idly through a book you had no real intention of reading. “You realize that just makes it even more of a fate thing, right?”

Jess groaned, rolling onto her stomach to bury her face in her arms. “God, I know. It’s so disgustingly romantic, I wanna throw up.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you tossed a pillow at her. She barely reacted, too lost in whatever dreamlike thoughts were filling her head. You were happy for her. Genuinely. But it was impossible not to feel the weight of your own uncertainty pressing in at the edges.

The months had passed in a blur of late-night talks, stolen moments, and the growing anticipation of what was coming.

The pack had been planning the celebration since the moment the four of you had met that day in May. It was tradition. Finding a soulmate wasn’t something small in your world. It was a bond written into the marrow of your bones, and the Winter pack honored that. The Winchester pack believed much the same. Two of their alphas had found their true mates—both omegas from the Winter pack.

Your pack had extended the invitation first, allowing Dean’s family to bring up to five other pack members of their choice. In return, the Winchester pack had made the same offer to yours. It was only fair. The celebrations would take place in the middle of the week following the next full moon, with two days between to rest, recover, and prepare.

You tried not to dwell too much on the times Dean had taken you to their land to meet some of his packmates. He had always picked up Jess too, making sure she could be with Sam. But Sam rarely ever came along when Dean would pick the two of you up. It wasn’t personal—he thought you were nice, really—but your scent was a bit much for him, trapped in the Impala. Even with the windows down, even with the open road stretching out ahead, it had been too much.

“So, you gonna wear the new dress?” Jess’s voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

“Probably. I mean, that’s why we went shopping,” you murmured, flipping a page in the book you weren’t actually reading.

Jess didn’t buy it. Even caught up in the whirlwind of her own happiness, she always noticed when something was off with you. She sat up, eyes narrowing, before launching a pillow straight at your face. You barely had time to react before it hit you.

“Spill,” she demanded, arms crossing. “And don’t try to play it off.”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the book’s edges before you sighed, your shoulders dipping ever so slightly. “You and Sam… you have everything figured out. Dean won’t even talk about what comes next.” The words came quietly, like you weren’t sure you wanted to say them out loud.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she shifted closer, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, steadying embrace. She didn’t try to offer hollow reassurances—she knew that wouldn’t help. Some things couldn’t be fixed with words alone.

But maybe she could do something.

As she held you, a thought struck her. If Dean wouldn’t talk to you about what was going on in that thick skull of his, maybe she could get through to him. The celebration would be the perfect opportunity. She’d pull him aside, corner him if she had to. One way or another, she was going to get some answers.

—-----------------------------

The night of the celebration arrived with the scent of woodsmoke and fresh pine hanging thick in the air, mingling with the rich, mouthwatering aroma of slow-roasted meats. Lanterns were strung between the towering trees, their golden glow casting flickering patterns across the gathering space. The entire Winter pack that lived even remotely close by had come together, dressed in their finest, laughter and conversation already filling the clearing.

You stood beside Jess, watching as the first of the Winchester pack members arrived. Dean was the first out of the Impala, naturally exuding that easy confidence of his as he surveyed the celebration. His sharp green eyes swept over the gathering before landing on you, the corner of his mouth quirking into something small but warm.

Sam followed, his expression a little more reserved, but softening the second he spotted Jess. Her excitement was contagious, pulling a rare, bright grin from him as she practically bounced in place.

John and Mary weren’t far behind, stepping out of the second vehicle with Bobby, Ellen, and Jody. John had that ever-watchful gaze, assessing the space, while Mary’s warmth balanced him, offering a nod of approval at the way everything had been set up. Bobby let out a low whistle, taking in the sight of the Winter pack’s living area with an appreciative eye.

“Well, ain’t this somethin’,” he muttered, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. “Gotta hand it to you folks—y’all sure know how to throw a gathering.” Ellen smirked, nudging him with her elbow. “Better than the last one we had back home. No one’s thrown a punch yet.”

“Give it time,” Jody remarked dryly, though her eyes crinkled with amusement.

Then came Cas and Benny. Cas, ever the observer, studied the way the Winter pack moved, his blue eyes sharp with quiet curiosity. Benny, on the other hand, took it all in with an easy grin, already nodding along to the music drifting through the trees.

“Hell,” Benny chuckled, rolling his shoulders, “this almost reminds me of home.”

Dean clapped a hand on Benny’s back before glancing at you again. He didn’t say much—he didn’t have to. There was something about the way he looked at you, something in the way he carried himself tonight. But there was still a hesitation there, an unspoken something lingering between you.

Jess squeezed your hand, grounding you, her voice just loud enough for only you to hear. “We’ll figure it out.”

And with that, the celebration began.

The celebration had settled into an easy rhythm—conversations weaving together, the air thick with the mingling scents, the steady pulse of pack bonds, and the rhythmic thrum of drums beneath the open sky. Laughter rippled between shared stories, teasing remarks, and the occasional howl from the pups as they ran through the clearing, high on the energy of the gathering.

Dean stuck close, his presence a steady weight just on the edge of your awareness. He wasn’t hovering, not exactly, but he wasn’t straying far either. It was instinct, you figured. Maybe something deeper, too. The bond you didn’t feel but knew had to be there, just beyond your reach.

Sam had barely left Jess’s side all night, not that she minded. His presence settled something in her, the soulmate bond between them unmistakable. His scent had softened into something warm, a contrast to the sharper edge it carried when he wasn’t near her. But Jess had a mission tonight, and even Sam’s gravitational pull wasn’t going to stop her.

She just needed the right moment.

She waited, watching—a break in the conversation, a distraction, something. And then it happened. Mary had started a conversation with Sam, and before he could instinctively reach for her, Jess leaned in close, brushing a quick kiss against his jaw.

“Gonna grab something to drink,” she murmured.

Sam barely had time to nod before she was slipping away, light on her feet, making sure you were occupied in conversation before beelining for Dean.

He was off to the side now, nursing a beer, gaze flickering toward you when he thought no one was watching. Jess rolled her eyes. She knew that look.

“Alright, Winchester.” She planted herself beside him, arms crossing as she fixed him with a pointed stare. “Spill.” Dean blinked at her, brows pulling together. “Spill what?” “Oh, don’t play dumb with me,” she scoffed. “You know exactly what.” Dean exhaled, tilting his head back for a second before looking at her again. “Jess—”

“Nope. Not letting you brush me off,” she cut in, narrowing her eyes. “Why haven’t you talked to her about what’s next? Sam and I are already planning everything out. You?” She gestured toward him. “Radio silence.”

Dean set his beer down on the wooden railing beside him, jaw tensing for half a second before he shook his head. “It’s not that simple.” Jess huffed. “Dean, she’s waiting. Maybe she doesn’t realize it yet, but she is. And you’re just… standing here, making eyes at her like a lovesick puppy instead of actually doing something.” Dean let out a sharp breath, running a hand down his face. “You think I don’t want to?” His voice was quieter now, rougher. “You think I haven’t gone over it all a hundred times in my head?”

Jess softened just a fraction, watching the way his fingers curled against the railing, the way his scent shifted—just enough for her to pick up on the quiet frustration, the conflict he was keeping locked tight.

“Then why haven’t you?” she asked, gentler now.

Dean hesitated, glancing back at you across the way, something almost unreadable in his expression.

“Because I don’t want to screw this up.” His voice barely above a murmur, rough like gravel. “She deserves better than me rushing into something just ‘cause I feel it.”

Jess exhaled, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile. “Dean. She deserves you.” She paused, mulling over her thoughts for a moment before continuing. “She’s not like most people. If you tell her what you’re going through, she’ll listen. She won’t even judge you for how you’re feeling.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a slow exhale, he nodded once. “Yeah.” Jess patted his shoulder. “Good. Now, I’m gonna go back to my mate before he starts scenting the air for me like a damn bloodhound.” Dean smirked at that, shaking his head as she turned and made her way back toward Sam. But as he looked at you again, standing there, unaware of the weight he carried, he knew one thing for sure. Jess was right.

You were engrossed in a conversation between your parents and Dean’s, doing your best not to let embarrassment creep in as they exchanged childhood stories. Some of the tales made you laugh outright, especially a few about Dean’s younger years. The warmth of the gathering wrapped around you like a comforting weight, a reminder of the family you had and the one you were stepping into.

Goosebumps danced down your exposed arms, that familiar prickling of being watched sending a shiver down your spine. A small smile tugged at your lips, even before you felt the warmth of a hand against the small of your back.

“Mind if I barrow my mate for a bit?” Dean asked with a teasing smirk, sending heat straight to your cheeks. “Just behave. The pups are still enjoying the celebration,” your father teased right back.

Dean huffed a laugh, but you were too busy trying to will away the blush creeping up your neck. Because mate. The word settled somewhere deep in your chest, curling into the spaces you hadn’t yet named. And as Dean guided you away, his touch warm and steady, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as unaffected as you thought.

Dean led you through the celebration, his hand a steady weight against the small of your back, guiding you toward the treeline. The sounds of the pack softened as you moved further away—laughter and music fading into the background until it was just the two of you beneath the canopy of stars.

You could still hear the distant hum of voices, but here, surrounded by the scent of pine and earth, everything felt quieter. More intimate. The warmth of Dean’s palm against your back lingered even after he pulled away, shoving his hands into his pockets as he exhaled.

You waited, letting the silence settle between you, knowing he had something to say.

Dean let out a breath, eyes flicking up to meet yours before shifting away again. “Jess got in my head.” He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Not that she was wrong.” You arched a brow, crossing your arms as you leaned against a nearby tree. “About what?”

He hesitated, rolling his shoulders, as if trying to shake something loose. “About me needing to talk to you. About this.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his expression guarded but not closed off. Not anymore. “About how I keep looking at you like some dumb lovesick puppy instead of just—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply.

Something in your chest tightened, the weight of his words pressing against something you hadn’t let yourself fully acknowledge.

Dean ran a hand over his face, then finally, finally looked at you. “I don’t want to screw this up.” His voice was rough, quieter than before. “You mean too much for me to just… rush in without thinking.”

Your breath caught, heat curling low in your stomach. “Dean…”

“I know you can’t feel the bond, yet,” he continued, his voice steady but tinged with something raw. “But I do. And I don’t just feel it—I want it. I want you.” His throat bobbed, his hands clenching at his sides. “But I also don’t want to push you into something before you’re ready.”

The honesty in his voice unraveled something in you, something you hadn’t let yourself touch.

You stepped closer, close enough to see the flicker of uncertainty in his green eyes, the way he held himself like he was bracing for impact. You just didn’t fully understand the depths of his confession, not how he meant it.

“I don’t think you could ever screw this up, Dean,” you murmured. “Not with me.”

Dean’s breath hitched. He searched your face like he was memorizing every detail, every unspoken thought lingering in your expression. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but was still holding himself back.

Before you could say anything else, his hand lifted, brushing against your arm, slow and tentative. “Yeah?”

You nodded, swallowing against the warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah.” Across the clearing, Jess had returned to Sam’s side, but her attention flickered to where you and Dean stood. She watched as Dean finally let himself touch you, the way your body leaned toward his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Relief settled deep in her chest, soft and warm. She nudged Sam, who followed her gaze, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

“About damn time,” she muttered, crossing her arms as she watched her best friend step into something she’d always deserved—something she’d always longed for, even if she hadn’t realized it yet.

Hope curled in her chest, steady and certain.

Neither of you noticed how several eyes glanced in your direction as Dean’s hand came up slowly, cupping your cheek before letting his fingers curl around the back of your neck. You couldn’t look away from those emerald-green eyes, your own hands resting against his chest. You could feel his heart racing beneath your palm, matching your own.

“I know I love you. I know my wolf loves you,” he whispered, leaning just that much closer, his voice a soft whisper. “We want to claim you, when you’re ready,” Dean whispered, slowly closing the distance between the two of you, giving you ample time to pull away.

Even if Dean didn’t have the memories of the time his wolf spent with you, and the two couldn’t truly share their experiences, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that neither he nor his wolf would ever hurt you.

Your breath hitched as your heart thrummed against your ribs. He’d kept the distance between the two of you, but at least now you knew why. You finally understood. When his lips were only a breath from yours, you whispered, “I love you too.” Dean’s lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if savoring the moment—memorizing the feeling of you, the taste of your breath mingling with his. But when you didn’t pull away, when your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and you leaned into him, he deepened the kiss.

Heat spread through your veins, slow and intoxicating, as his hand at the back of your neck tightened, holding you close without caging you in. His other hand slid down your back, anchoring you against him as his lips moved with a tenderness that made your heart ache. He wasn’t just kissing you—he was pouring every unspoken word, every bottled-up feeling, into this moment.

The rest of the world melted away.

Until it didn’t.

A deafening roar of cheers and whistles shattered the quiet, ripping you both from the cocoon you’d been wrapped in. Dean barely had time to pull away before the entire celebration erupted in victorious howls and applause.

Your face burned as you turned, only to see nearly everyone watching—some raising their drinks, others clapping each other on the back like they’d won a damn bet.

Jess was grinning like a Cheshire cat, nudging Sam with an unmistakable I told you so look. Mary had tears in her eyes, while Bobby just shook his head with a smirk, muttering something about Winchesters and their dramatics.

Dean groaned, forehead dropping against yours. “We’re never gonna live this down, are we?”

You laughed breathlessly, still a little dazed over your first kiss. “Not a chance.” His green eyes flickered between yours, something warm and certain settling into his expression. “Worth it.”

And when he kissed you again—amid the howls and laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the warmth of the pack surrounding you—you couldn’t help but agree.

For the rest of the evening, Dean stayed close, but not like before. There was no more careful distance, no hesitation in his touch. His arm remained around you, solid and sure, and you leaned into him, feeling the shift between you settle into something steady, something certain. The tension that had once lingered between you had melted away, replaced with quiet understanding. Yeah, there was still a lot to talk about, still things to figure out, but tonight wasn’t for that. Tonight was for celebrating—the kind of joy that only came from finding what had always been meant to be.

In three days, you’d be on Winchester land, surrounded by his pack, continuing the celebration. But that was a tomorrow problem.

At one point, your gaze met Jess’s across the fire, and you mouthed a silent thank you. Whatever she had said to Dean had helped, had given him the push he needed, and you’d be forever grateful. She only smiled, a knowing gleam in her eyes before turning back to Sam.

Dean had finally allowed himself to relax, the rigid tension in his shoulders easing, though not completely gone. He knew himself well enough to recognize the way his mind was already itching to overthink, to dissect every next step. But wrapped in your scent, pressed close against his side, he fought against it.

This moment—this warmth, this certainty—was what mattered.

Still, the future loomed in the back of his mind. He needed to talk to you about what came next, about what claiming you would mean. He knew that once he did, your first heat would come—not immediately, maybe not even soon, but neither of you knew how long you had before that happened. It was uncharted territory, and the thought of it had his wolf restless, pacing.

Then you shifted against him, your warmth pressing closer, and just like that, the thoughts scattered. He let out a slow, shaky breath, grounding himself in this. In you. For tonight, that was enough.

As the celebration wound down, the Winchesters stayed to help clean up, despite your and Jess’s parents insisting they didn’t have to. It warmed you to see how seamlessly they had fit in, how natural it felt to have them here—not as guests, but as family. Because that’s what this was now. No longer two separate packs, but one.

Dean followed your lead, helping you wrangle some of the more energetic pups, something unreadable glimmering in his eyes as he watched you with them. You handled them with an ease most unmated omegas didn’t possess, and it did something to him—set something deep in his chest thrumming. His thoughts drifted before he could stop them: you, barefoot in his kitchen, a pup on your hip, another growing in your swollen belly.

That lopsided smile tugged at his lips just as you turned to him.

“You comin'?” you asked, curiosity flickering in your expression at the way he was looking at you.

He felt heat creep up the back of his neck, huffing a quiet laugh as he tried to shake the thought loose. “Yup,” he replied, popping the p with a little too much emphasis, hoping you hadn’t caught on. But if only you knew what the sight you—just being you—did to him and his wolf.

With the pups safely returned to their parents, Dean took his time walking you back toward the clearing where the celebration had been. He didn’t rush, didn’t feel the need to. Your fingers were laced with his, and that was enough. Just a quiet moment, just this.

“Can I come over tomorrow?” he asked, a thread of nerves creeping into his voice. His mind was already racing ahead, overthinking everything he wanted to say.

You tilted your head slightly as you looked up at him. “Sure. What time?”

Dean already knew what your answer would be—you always said yes. Still, it settled something inside him to hear it. “Around ten, if you aren’t busy.”

The way you smiled at him, soft and easy, made his heart stutter. “I’m not busy. I’ll make us something for brunch.”

He could have told you not to worry about it, but he knew better. You loved cooking, loved baking. And if he admitted it to himself, he loved everything you made, loved the way you always put just a little extra care into it when it was for him. He squeezed your hand, holding onto this moment for just a little longer as the clearing from the celebration came into view.

The cleanup had gone quickly, everyone working together, leaving little for you to do except walk the Winchesters back to their cars, Dean’s hand still warm in yours. Goodbyes were exchanged, laughter lingered in the air, but when it came time for Dean to say his own, he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you and breathing you in.

“I think I’m gonna bring that blanket back so you can make it smell like you again,” he murmured into your hair, his voice teasing but laced with something deeper.

You giggled softly against his chest, letting out a content sigh. “I can do that,” you whispered, though the words were bittersweet. You wished—more than anything—you could know what his scent was. What comfort smelled like to him.

He smelled it, the subtle shift in your scent, and his hold on you tightened for just a moment before he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “I promise, we’ll talk about it all tomorrow,” he said, voice low, reassuring. And then he kissed you—one of those soft, lingering goodnight kisses you’d only ever dreamed about.

Benny let out a chuckle as Sam barely contained his, grinning against Jess’s lips as he stole his own goodnight. Mary, ever the pack mother, smacked Benny upside the head, like he was a misbehaving pup. He just rubbed the spot with an exaggerated pout before sliding into the passenger seat of Cas’s car.

Dean exhaled through his nose, reluctant to let you go. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered, thumb brushing the back of your hand.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whispered back, kissing the tip of his nose before he finally pulled away.

It took effort to step away, to let him go, but eventually, he slipped into the driver’s seat of his Impala. Jess moved to stand beside you as they pulled away. For a few moments, the two of you were silent, just watching them drive into the darkness.

“So,” she drawled, amusement thick in her voice. “How was your first kiss?”

A chuckle slipped from your lips, the warmth of Dean’s embrace still wrapped around your ribs. “I can understand at least a little as to why you and Sam are always sneaking off.” Jess smirked, but as she studied you, the lightness in her expression softened. “You nervous about the celebration on their land?”

Your breath left you in a quiet sigh, the moment’s happiness dimming just slightly. “Kinda. I can see when my scent bothers them. I did my best to stay downwind from them all night. I have no idea how I’m going to accomplish that when there are more of them to be considerate of.”

She didn’t respond right away, just reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently. “It won’t always be like that,” she murmured. “After he gets around to claiming you, your scent won’t have that anymore. It’ll be… normal. Just try to focus on that.”

Your fingers curled around hers, the reassurance welcome but not quite enough to ease the weight in your chest. “Yeah, but… he said he wants me to be ready before he claims me,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “I think he’s scared. Scared of bonding with his wolf and getting all those memories and feelings.”

Jess squeezed your hand again, grounding you. “Then talk to him tomorrow and tell him how you feel,” she said softly. “Maybe he’s just having a hard time admitting that, even to himself.”

You nodded, trying to hold onto that thought, but as the night stretched quiet around you, all you could think about was tomorrow—and all your own worries that had been circling through your mind. What if he wasn’t ready to face what you needed to say? After all, it wasn’t just about him claiming you and all that came with it. It was about you claiming him, too.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 7 - coming soon

A/B/O Master List Main Master List Series Master List

Permanent Tag List: @roseblue373 @flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @foxyjwls007

@hobby27 @megs-gadom @cheekygirl2309 @mxtansy @ladysparkles78

@ambiguous-avery @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @my-stories-vault

@maddie0101

Tag List: @nancymcl @lovelydisc @luahmeeks @alternativeprincess94 @kailalaland

@ladykitana90 @muhahaha303 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @suckitands33 @stoneyggirl2

22 notes · View notes

bitchinbarzal · 3 days ago

Text

Stay | Just Fine Au

Kaia doesn’t get a chance to respond.

Because before she can, Elodie stirs on the couch, her tiny face scrunching up as she blinks awake.

“Daddy?”

Clayton is beside her in an instant “Hey, baby” His voice is soft, careful, but the way his fingers tremble as they brush over her curls gives him away “I’m right here”

Elodie sniffles, shifting slightly against the pillow “Kaia too?”

“I’m here, sweetheart” Kaia says gently, reaching for her hand. Elodie squeezes her fingers weakly, and Kaia can feel the exhaustion radiating off her tiny frame.

For a moment, the three of them just sit there, pressed together in the small space of Kaia’s couch, and the world outside feels miles away.

Then, Elodie’s little voice breaks the silence.

“I don’t like her” she mumbles, her uninjured arm curling against her chest.

Clayton frowns “Who, baby?”

Elodie’s lower lip wobbles “Maddy.”

Kaia’s stomach tightens.

Clayton shifts, his jaw clenching “Why not?”

Elodie blinks up at him, looking so small under the weight of what happened “She was mean, Daddy. She said it was all my fault” Her little voice wobbles “I was crying, and she yells”

Clayton’s entire body goes rigid.

Kaia sees it—the way his shoulders tense, the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he’s fighting the urge to break something.

“She yelled at you?” His voice is low, controlled, but Kaia knows him too well. Knows he’s barely holding it together.

Elodie nods, rubbing at her tired eyes “She said I wasn’t listening. But I—I just tripped I promise” A tear slips down her cheek, and Kaia immediately reaches out, wiping it away.

“Oh, baby” Kaia murmurs, pulling her close “It wasn’t your fault. Not even a little bit”

Elodie hiccups, burying her face in Kaia’s shirt “I want to stay with you”

Kaia’s heart shatters.

She looks up at Clayton, expecting him to look gutted, but instead, he just looks furious. His hands are clenched into fists, his jaw tight, his whole body radiating rage.

But when he speaks, his voice is gentle.

“You don’t have to see her again, El” he promises, brushing a hand over her curls “I swear.”

Elodie sniffles, nodding against Kaia’s chest.

Kaia presses a kiss to the top of her head, whispering, “You’re safe, baby.”

And she means it.

She’ll make sure of it.

The next few weeks are off.

Not in a way that feels explosive. There are no fights, no raised voices, no words they can’t take back.

It’s just careful.

Too careful.

Clayton is always around now. Picking Elodie up, dropping her off. Sometimes, just sitting on Kaia’s couch while Elodie naps. It feels familiar, like something they lost—but at the same time, it’s different.

It’s cautious.

Like they’re both afraid to break whatever fragile thing has settled between them.

But then, there are moments that make Kaia’s chest ache.

Like the night Elodie wakes up crying from a bad dream, and Clayton calls Kaia instead of handling it alone.

Like the way Clayton always lingers in her doorway a second too long, like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

Like the way their fingers brush when he hands her a plate after dinner, and instead of pulling away, they both pause.

Like the way Elodie still reaches for her when she’s upset.

Like the way Kaia is starting to realize she’ll never not be part of this.

And then, one night, when Clayton is sitting on the floor with Elodie, helping her decorate her cast with stickers, Kaia blurts out the question that’s been eating at her for weeks.

“What does this mean?”

Clayton looks up, blinking like he wasn’t expecting her to say it out loud “What?”

Kaia folds her arms, suddenly too aware of how much space there isn’t between them “You. Me. This. What does it mean?”

Clayton exhales slowly, setting down a sheet of stickers before standing up. He looks at her, something serious in his expression “I don’t know”

Kaia clenches her jaw “That’s not an answer”

Clayton’s gaze flickers to Elodie, who’s too focused on her cast to be listening. He takes a slow step closer “I just know that I don’t want to do this without you”

Kaia swallows hard.

Because damn him—that’s the one thing he could’ve said that would’ve stopped her in her tracks.

“Kaia” he murmurs, reaching out, brushing his fingers against hers “I meant what I said.”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head, pulling her hand away “You also said you didn’t need me, Clay.”

His face tightens, regret flickering across his expression “I know”

Silence stretches between them.

Then, “Kaia?”

They both turn to see Elodie looking up at them, her tired little eyes blinking between them “Can you stay?”

Kaia softens.

She glances at Clayton, who nods, something unreadable in his expression.

Then, she turns back to Elodie and smiles “Yeah, baby,” she whispers “I’ll stay.”

And for now, that’s all she can promise.

#just fine au #clayton and kaia #clayton and elodie #clayton keller x reader #clayton keller imagine #kaia and elodie #elodie keller

24 notes · View notes

sixic · 20 days ago

Text

gojo hates condoms ☆

not even in an ‘i can’t feel a thing’ frat-fuck way either. he just wants to be close to you. he’s touch starved as it is and being inside of you is quite literally the closet he can be to you. why would he want a barrier between his achy length and your silken walls?

he hates condoms. hates them like they’re pointing south on his moral compass. hates them like they hurt to use—which they do, in a way—the mental anguish feels real to him, at least. he picks up a fuss in the grocery store when you pull a pack of ribbed condoms from the shelf to try because why would you seek pleasure from artificial ridges when the protruding veins of his cock would feel just as good if not dressed in a condom?

sometimes he eats you out for twice as long as usual to get you really fucked out and dumb. he’ll make you cum hard and fast and so much that your mind is a mess in the hopes that you’ll forget all about your safety precautions and let him feel you from the inside out. but you always catch on. with a tsk and a finger pointed to the draw where he keeps the horrid things out of sight.

so when you let him fuck you raw for the first time, gojo is reeling. it’s on the condition that he promises to pull out, and promise he does—with a pinky finger hooked around yours and his lips to his thumb—he promises to pull out.

he decides on missionary, because as much as he loves the hundred different positions he knows how to wrangle you into, he wants to connect with you. to make love, not fuck.

and even your wetness against his tip is enough to jolt his stomach downwards. collecting your glossing over his angry head as he rubs himself up and down your folds—he would cum just like this if he wasn’t so stuck on feeling all of you. you’re warm and wet and tight as he pushes against your entrance and oh god he’s going to cum already.

“oh,” he stills, eyes deadset on yours as he slides into you. his tip is rubbing against that spot that makes your back arch upwards and it takes everything in you not to laugh at the distraught look on his face as he says “i have to pull out.”

“you’re joking, right?”

“i really wish i was baby,” he looks pained. he’s never felt something so heavenly and ungodly at the same time. he wants to do bad things, to fuck you into the mattress and breed you full of himself until you’re too weak to care about the aftermath of such recklessness. “i can’t pull out.”

“what?” you laugh, his balls tighten at the sound.

“if i move—” satoru has never looked so serious, “—i will cum. this was a bad idea. why would you let me do this?”

“you’re the one always—”

“actually don’t argue with me, you know what it does to me.” he squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on anything other then the way you feel around him. he does math in his head, thinks about the people he’s killed, how much he loves you… how pretty you look right now… growing old with you.

“i swear you’re getting harder inside of—”

“imsorryiloveyoubutpleasebequietorelseyouaregoingtogetpregnant.”

it takes him a minute of mental gymnastics to feel confident enough to start slowly sliding out of you, but all hope dies when the heel of your foot presses against his ass and with a smile made of sin you pull him deeper inside of you.

he opens his mouth to protest, to tell you he is not joking and all that comes out is a beautiful strangled moan that makes you tighten around him. for a man who claims to be the strongest he is rather weak-willed when it comes to your pussy. he needs to cum so hard that it hurts, but a fear of maybe ruining your life and relationship digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“don’t do this to me,” he whines.

but you’re smiling. you’re so tight and wet and beautiful and everything he’s ever dreamt of having and holding and you’re smiling. “satoru,” you say, and he’s weak. “cum inside.”

anything for you. it’s gorgeous: the way he lets loose, falling forward to press all his weight into you as he groans and his balls release in hot spurts that you can feel painting your insides white. it’s the connection, the intimacy, the tears that prick at his eyes.

and he doesn’t pull out. no, he presses his hips forward to fuck his cum as deep into you as he possibly can and he vows to throw out every condom in the goddamn house.

god he hates condoms.

part 2

#cw dubcon #<- just in case #gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo

16K notes · View notes

simpotat · 3 months ago

Text

Is it bad that I understand exactly why he'd have a problem with digital food even though "the sensation of eating" is basically the same as when you eat real food

#into the void #like. sometimes you like feeling the weight of it in your stomach. that it's in there #I know I sure do #the total absence of that must be pretty uncanny #though I agree with the commenters in that I'd be pretty damn stoked at the opportunity to eat all kinds of food without any #physical consequences. like overeating or allergic reactions #(there is also another thing I could say about this video that I'd only ever confess on Qu.otev)#(and we all know we're not going back on THAT shipwreck)

1 note · View note

loveritas · 5 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 11 - Virginity Loss with Kento Nanami

contains: nsfw content: (mdni), fempov, pnv (protected), loss of virginity, oral (reader receiving), fingering, age gap (legal - reader is college age), soft nanami

˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc: 10k (bear with me here, it’s slow)

a/n: i apologise in advance for how soft this is, it is sickeningly sweet and a heads up, the writing style of this is a little different to some of the prior ones i've posted here...it's less horny smut in the way its written and more wordy? so if this one's not for you, it's all good, sometimes i just like to mix it up <333

The cool October air nipped at your bare skin as you stood out front of the crowded house, your angel wings from your costume rustling softly in the breeze. The party was fun, but it was getting late, and getting home was an issue.

The problem was, you couldn't call your dad. He'd have too many questions, too many concerns about why you were out so late. Besides, the revealing nature of your outfit wouldn't have gone unnoticed, and you weren't in the mood to listen to a lecture.

Your phone hovered in your hand, a name already highlighted. Nanami Kento. Your dad's best friend, a reliable, quiet man you'd known for a couple years. He was the safest option honestly and maybe a part of you was pleased with the notion of calling him, of seeing him after the night's festivities. There had always been something about the way Nanami carried himself-so composed, so controlled, it left you curious.

You took one deep breath before pressing the call button. It rang only twice before his smooth steady voice came through the line. "Are you alright?" he asked instantly, as though he'd sensed something was wrong, just from seeing your number at this time.

"I'm fine," you quickly assured him. "It's just. I'm at a party, and it's gotten late. I need a ride, and I really can't call my dad soo….”

There was a moment of silence, stretching the pause to its limits as he finally replied. "Text me the address. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Waiting around for fifteen minutes in the cold had your mind racing. All you could do was hope he wouldn't say too much about your outfit, a white dress a little too short, with wings fastened to your back and a halo precariously balanced on your head. It had drawn enough attention at the party already, though you'd shrugged it off with nervous laughter. Nanami was an altogether different story, though, and the thought of him looking at you like this made you feel nervous.

Sure enough, in exactly fifteen minutes, Nanami's black car pulled up in front of the house. You quickly headed towards it, heels clicking across the pavement. As soon as you opened the passenger door and slid inside, his eyes raked over you.

"Thanks for picking me up," you said softly, trying not to meet his gaze as you buckled yourself in.

But Nanami's silence was heavy, and you could almost feel the weight of his stare. He didn't say anything right away, eyes staying fixed on your outfit-the dress riding high on your thighs, the soft glow of your wings innocent. His jaw tightened slightly, a barely perceptible movement, but you noticed it.

"Of course," he finally replied, his voice gruffer than usual, with an edge to it. "But that's quite the costume."

You felt shy under his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "It's just a Halloween costume. You know, harmless fun."

"Harmless fun," he repeated, his eyes darting back to the road as he shifted the car into drive. But the way he said it-twisted something in your stomach, a tension building between you impossible to ignore.

Nanami didn't look away from the road, but his thoughts were far from innocent. He knew he shouldn't be looking at you like this, his best friend's daughter, in a dress that didn't leave much to his imagination. Yet, there was something outright magnetic in the way you looked tonight-the way soft fabric clung to your body, pure white of an angel costume contrasting sharply with the rising inferno inside him.

He gripped the wheel a little harder, his knuckles white. What was wrong with him? You were innocent, too young for him- but the way you moved, the way you shifted in your seat as if aware of how you were making him feel, it stirred something primal in him.

"Did you have fun?" he asked way too calmly, trying to distract himself.

You nodded. "Yeah, it was good. Just got too late, and well, you know."

He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing along the smooth skin of your legs and then up to your face, lit up in a soft glow from the passing streetlights. He tried to keep a clear head, act like he wasn’t losing his mind over being this close in proximity to you. It didn't help that the scent of your perfume lingered in the air between you, sweet and inviting.

"Your dad doesn't know you're dressed like this," he said-half a question, half a statement of fact.

You shook your head. "No… he wouldn't exactly approve." There was a little, nervous laugh in your voice.

Nanami grunted in response. "He wouldn't."

The tension between you both grew thicker, heavy with unspoken emotion until it was almost palpable in the cramped interior of the car. Nanami couldn't clear his head. What would your father think if he knew how hard it was for Nanami to keep his thoughts pure? How hard it was to pretend the sight of you, in that tight little dress, hadn't set something off inside him?

You shifted in your seat again, the hem of your dress rose just a little higher on your thighs to catch Nanami's attention yet again as he had to adjust in his seat.

The car hummed on silently, but it was obvious that he was trying to keep his cool, trying to ignore the pull between you both, and for some reason, you decided not to make it easy for him.

You shifted a bit in your seat, letting your legs cross; the hem of your skirt inched up just a bit more. You caught the slightest tensing of Nanami's jaw out of the corner of your eye, though he kept his gaze firmly trained on the road.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile. "You know," you said softly, a teasing edge creeping into your tone, "I've never seen you this quiet. You always seem so assured."

Nanami's brow furrowed and he let out a short breath. "It's late," he replied; the words were clipped, strained as if he wanted to force the conversation into something normal.

You weren't buying it. His body language betrayed him-tension in the posture of his body spoke volumes his words never did. You knew with just a little more prodding-a test of the waters-he'd crack.

You lifted a casual hand to your head to adjust your halo headband, your fingers delving through your hair to do so, before you laid your hand on your thigh, letting the fingers linger as you shifted again, angling yourself slightly toward him.

"Thanks for picking me up," you said, your voice soft and laced with something a little too sweet, a little too insinuating. "I guess I could've called someone else, but… I wanted you to be the one."

Nanami's hold on the wheel stiffened further, and you could almost hear the battle raging inside him. His eyes flickered sideways to you, only for a moment, before snapping back to the road.

“Really?" he growled, almost inaudible, the tone low, a little threatening.

You nodded, biting your lip as you leaned closer, your hand lightly brushing his arm as you adjusted once more. "Yeah… I feel safe with you.”

There it was, the first gap in his well-considered armour. He said nothing for a moment. It was as if every unspoken word weighed the air inside the car down and pressed on both of you with its unspoken weight.

Then, wordlessly, instead of turning down the street that would lead to your house, he turned left and went in the opposite direction. You blinked once or twice, peering out of the window just to confirm that he wasn't actually getting onto your usual route.

"Um. my house is the other way," you said light, though curious.

Nanami remained silent for another beat as the car sped through the quiet, dimly lit streets. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice rougher than before.

"I know."

Your heart skipped a beat, and a shiver ran down your spine at the implication: He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing. And instead of taking you home, he was detouring off course on purpose. A decision he had made despite the battle that had raged in his brain.

"Where are we going?" you asked, though the answer was just starting to formulate in your mind.

"My place." Nanami replied in a low voice, very nearly too calm.

Of course his words only had one meaning, and you paused for a second, the situation settling into your consciousness. It wasn't a decision he had only just now considered. He had thought about this, about you—and the barrier he'd held up for so long was starting to crack.

A part of you knew this might have crossed the line, a line neither of you could come back from. In the silence of the car, though, that pull between you became impossible to ignore.

You swallowed as your heart raced in your chest, shifting slightly in your seat as his words sank in. "Your place… are you sure?"

Nanami's grip on the steering wheel loosened, but only for a moment as he let a slow, conscious breath escape. He cast a look in your direction then, something dark in his gaze-a warning, and yet, something deeper, something feral. "No," he admitted in a low voice with a trace of growl. "But I'm doing it anyway."

His place. He was taking you there, and implications that sent your tummy fluttering into somersaults of excitement and uncertainty when he said so. There was no going back once you crossed this threshold.

The time quickly passed and it wasn’t long before the soft hum of the engine stopped, and all that could be heard was your quickened breathing.

Nanami turned to you; his eyes locked with yours. In them was an unspoken question. He wasn't forcing you; this was something you had to step into on your own volition.

You nodded at him and he nodded slightly in return before moving to open the car door for you. His hand was soft and warm in yours as he guided you out. He took you inside and towards the lift. The silence between you was evident, but not uncomfortable. It was charged, alive with possibilities neither of you could deny any more.

As the lift opened onto his floor, Nanami escorted you down the silent hall to his apartment. His steps were sure, steady, but you could feel the tension emanating off of him like a coiled spring ready to snap. He hastily unlocked the door before gesturing you inside.

You stepped inside and the door clicked shut behind you, sealing the two of you into the quiet, dimly lit space. Nanami's apartment was sleek, minimalist, much like the man himself-clean lines, understated elegance. It was intimate, private, and the thought of being alone with him here made your skin tingle.

You turned toward him, soft light from the city filtering in through the windows and casting shadows across his face. He watched you once more, his eyes dark and intense. A silent war inside himself as he struggled to keep his restraint.

"You can still change your mind," he said, low and rough. "Sleep in the spare bedroom- and I won't push this any further."

Your eyes ran across his face, before meeting his gaze. Hal of you screamed to close the distance between the two of you, whilst the other half screamed to sleep in the spare bedroom and never look back on this moment.

But this wasn't about lust or desire; this was crossing a line, changing the dynamic between you both forever, but one you were ready to.

You leaned in towards him, your fingers brushing lightly against his chest. You took note of the quick rise and fall of his chest and the fast beating of his heart under your fingertips. His eyes darkened, his control slipping just that little bit more as he watched you.

"I'm not changing my mind," you whispered softly, resolutely. "I want this."

Nanami exhaled sharply, the last thread of restraint snapping as he closed the remaining distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch just as gentle as you’d expected.

For a moment, he just looked at you, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin, as if giving you one final chance to pull away.

But you didn’t.

With a low growl, Nanami's lips finally crashed into yours. He kissed you passionately as if he had been holding back far too long. His hand slid around the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as he pressed your body flush against his, trying to get as physically close to you as possible.

The kiss deepened, and all the tension and desire that had built between you finally exploded in a rush of heat and sensation. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you succumbed to the moment, to him.

One of his hands had clutched your waist as he leaned you up against the wall, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. It was quickly heating up; everything was going so fast. And though you'd expected it, you suddenly became nervous, not knowing what to do, so you couldn't help but blurt out…

“I’m a virgin-”

Nanami froze when you uttered those words, the revelation hanging in the air like a weight that neither of you could ignore. His lips lingered on yours, but the urgency that had driven his actions moments before seemed to vanish, replaced by a sudden stillness. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression torn, conflicted. You could feel the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, the tension coiling tighter inside him.

He should stop. He knows that.

"You're a virgin," he repeated softly, as if trying to ground himself in the reality of the situation. The responsibility of what this meant sank in, his protective instincts roaring louder than his desire. The weight of his role in your life—being your father's best friend, older, more experienced—should have been enough to make him back away, to put distance between you for your own good.

But it didn’t.

Despite everything, despite knowing he should be the responsible one and walk away, the pull he felt toward you was undeniable. His thumb gently traced the outline of your jaw, the conflict clear in his eyes as they searched yours. There was something about you—your trust, your innocence—that stirred something deep inside him, something he couldn’t easily shake off.

"I shouldn't.," he growled low and hoarse, yet with an edge, a residual hunger he could not hide. He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled sharply as if trying to draw himself back in.

But when he opened them again, his gaze darkened, the tension between you flaring back to life. You saw the conflict, the war between what he knew was right and what he wanted more than anything in that moment.

"I-” Nanami continued, his hands moving to cradle your face, his touch still gentle despite the storm raging within him. "This changes everything."

You could feel the restraint, the repression, but you could also feel the resolve slipping. He was a man who prided himself on control, on doing the right thing-but right now, you were making him question all of that.

"I know it does," you whispered, stepping closer, your body brushing against his in a way that made his breath hitch. "But I trust you. I want this… I want you."

Your words seemed to cut through to him, and for a long moment, the air between you crackled with something electric, something neither of you could deny any longer.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. "If we do this," he said quietly, his voice low, serious, "There’s no going back. I need you to be sure. This is… not something I can take lightly."

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his eyes searching yours one last time, giving you the opportunity to pull away. But you didn’t. You met his gaze, your hand resting over his heart, feeling its rapid thrum beneath your palm.

"I'm sure," you whispered, your voice steady, filled with the weight of the decision you had already made.

The last bit of tension left Nanami’s shoulders as he closed the distance between you again, his lips finding yours with a renewed intensity. But this time, his kiss was slower, more deliberate, as if savouring every moment, every taste of you. His hands slid down your back, pulling you closer, but there was no rush, no urgency. He was letting you lead, letting you set the pace.

As his hands moved over your body, exploring with careful restraint, it was clear he was holding back. Despite the fire between you, despite the overwhelming desire, he was still thinking of you, still making sure you felt safe, cherished, in this moment.

Nanami’s heart raced as he led you to his bedroom, the very act feeling surreal. Every step was imbued with a sense of gravity, as though the weight of the moment hung in the air around you, thickening with anticipation and vulnerability. He was acutely aware of the fabric of your outfit, how it hugged your curves and accentuated your delicate features, your halo headband adding to the angelic aura that surrounded you. It was intoxicating, and he felt the primal urge to claim you, to make you his.

The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing against the walls as the city lights filtered in through the curtains. Nanami could hardly breathe as he turned to face you, taking in the sight of you standing there—innocent yet undeniably alluring, a vision that pulled at the very edges of his sanity. You looked like something out of a dream, and he felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him.

"I shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. The conflict within him raged on, and yet, as he looked at you—his angel—he couldn't shake the selfish longing that consumed him. Despite knowing he didn’t deserve to indulge in this, he found himself wanting you more than anything else in that moment.

As you stood there, your gaze unwavering, your confidence shining through your innocence, it was clear you were ready to embrace whatever was to come. Nanami took a deep breath, pushing the guilt aside. He didn’t want to be the one to hold back your desires. Not when you were offering him a chance to explore this connection.

"You’re so beautiful," he breathed, stepping closer, his hands reaching out to frame your face. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if committing the moment to memory. The softness of your skin beneath his touch sent a jolt of electricity through him.

"Breathtaking," he whispered again, almost reverently. The weight of those words held true as he leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing against yours. The hesitation melted away, and he captured your mouth with his again, deepening the kiss with a fervour that spoke of his hunger, of his desire to claim you in every way possible.

His hands roamed over your waist, trailing down to your hips, fingers digging in slightly as he pulled you closer. There was a desperation in his touch now, a need to feel every inch of you pressed against him. He wanted to memorise the way you felt, the way your body fit perfectly against his, like you were made for him.

When he pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, there was a fire in his gaze that reflected the storm within him. "Are you sure?" he asked again, his voice a low rumble, though he knew what your answer would be. Deep down, he wanted to hear it, wanted the reassurance that you were truly ready to take this step with him.

“I’ve never been more sure,” you replied, your voice steady, filled with a confidence that both excited and terrified him.

With that, Nanami leaned in again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of his longing into it. It was both gentle and consuming, a collision of desire and tenderness that left you breathless. The world outside faded away as he lost himself in the sensation of you—the taste of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the way your hands tangled in his hair, urging him on.

As he guided you back onto the bed, he felt the weight of his own insecurities creep back in. He was an older man, your father’s best friend, someone who was supposed to protect you, not take advantage of your trust. But looking at you, lost in the moment, an angel who was willing to give herself to him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. This was a gift, a chance to experience something beautiful with you, and he would be damned if he let that go.

There was a sense of awe in him as he looked at you, your innocence and trust in him making him feel both powerful and vulnerable. This was different from anything he had ever experienced before, and it left him unsure of how to proceed.

He leaned over you, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek, his touch tender and gentle. "I promise to take care of you," he whispered, his voice low and filled with the sincerity of his intent.

You smiled up at him, your trust in him shining through your eyes. "I know," you replied, your voice soft and confident.

Nanami's breath hitched as he took in the sight of you lying beneath him, the white dress clinging to you. The fabric seemed to glow in the dim light of the room, accentuating your delicate features and the innocence that radiated from you. His heart swelled with a mix of desire and reverence, knowing that he was about to experience something truly special.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your neck, trailing soft kisses along your jawline, down to your collarbone. The taste of your skin, the subtle scent of your perfume, it all combined to create a heady sensation that made his head spin.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing you through the thin fabric of your dress, mapping out the contours of your figure. He could feel the heat of your skin beneath his touch, and it only served to fuel the fire burning within him.

"You're perfect," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "An angel, sent just for me."

You shivered at his touch, your body arching into his as you sought more of his attention. Your hands moved to his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

Nanami chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Patience, sweetheart. Let me savour this moment."

He helped you with his shirt, shrugging it off and tossing it aside, revealing his toned chest and abs. The sight of his muscular form and you couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch.

Nanami groaned at your exploration, his hips pressing against yours, the evidence of his desire evident in the way his erection strained against his pants, pressing deliciously against your thigh. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing you. He resumed his kisses along your skin, his teeth grazing you skin ever so slightly. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, your body arching into his touch, craving more.

"I want to worship every inch of you." he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire.

His hands slid down to your thighs, bunching up the skirt of your dress, exposing more of your smooth skin. He took his time, savouring the feel of you, the way your body responded to his touch.

You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, the intensity of his desire, and it only served to fuel your own. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles, the way his heart raced beneath your touch.

Nanami's lips found yours again, his kiss deep and passionate, pouring all of his longing into it. He rolled his hips against yours, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"I want you," he breathed, his voice raw with need. "I want to make you mine, to claim you in every way possible."

He tugged at the fabric of your dress, his intentions clear, but something held him back. The thought of ruining the delicate garment, of marring your innocence, seemed sacrilegious.

Instead, he let his hands roam beneath it, his fingers teasing along your inner thighs, higher and higher, until he reached your panties. He could feel the heat from you, the dampness that betrayed your desire.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered, his fingers already circling your most clit through the cotton fabric. "Tell me you're ready for me."

Nanami's fingers continued to tease and explore, his touch both gentle and insistent. You could feel the pressure building within you, your body responding to his every caress, every brush of his lips against your skin. The heat between you was palpable, the air thick with the scent of your combined desire.

"I want this," you gasped, your voice trembling with need. "I want you, Nanami- Please, don't make me wait any longer."

His eyes darkened with hunger at your words, and he wasted no time in responding. He hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs, exposing you to his hungry gaze.

"You're perfect," he murmured, his fingers tracing the delicate folds, feeling the slickness that coated your skin. "So wet, so ready for me."

He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. Slowly, teasingly, he trailed kisses up your leg, his stubble rasping against your sensitive skin, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. He couldn’t help but grin at every slight shuffle from you as he moved closer to your pussy, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy your shyness.

When he finally reached your core, he inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of your arousal. He looked up at you, his eyes locked with yours, before he leaned in and ran his tongue along your folds, tasting you for the first time.

You gasped at the sensation, your hips bucking involuntarily against his mouth. Nanami groaned in response, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you in place as he continued his exploration.

He lapped at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, before dipping lower to your entrance, tasting your essence. He alternated between licking and sucking, his movements slow and deliberate, building the tension within you with each pass of his tongue. “So fucking sweet-” he groaned.

Nanami's tongue continued its relentless assault on your most sensitive areas, licking and sucking, driving you closer to the edge with each pass. As your pleasure mounted, he slowly eased a finger into your tight heat, his touch gentle and patient.

Your hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. The pleasure was intense, building with each passing second, threatening to consume you entirely.

He worked you slowly, his finger pumping in and out, curling to hit that spot deep inside that made your toes curl. The sensation of his tongue and finger combined was almost too much to bear, and you could feel your walls beginning to flutter around him. “Such a good girl.”

He added a second finger, stretching you further, his pace increasing as he sensed your impending release. His fingers moved in tandem with his tongue, one hand working your clit while the other drove into you, stoking the fire that burned within you.

Your moans filled the room, your body writhing beneath his touch, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. Nanami could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your body tensing as you neared your peak. “Come on sweetheart, give it to me.”

As he felt your body tense beneath him, your thighs trembling, he knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit, his fingers pumping harder, deeper, determined to bring you to the heights of ecstasy. The world narrowed down to the sensation of his mouth and hands on your body, the pleasure consuming you entirely.

Nanami’s voice was soft but commanding. “That’s it,” he murmured, his words vibrating through you as he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Let go, my angel. Give yourself to me.”

With a final thrust of his fingers, your body gave in. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body trembling beneath him as you cried out his name, lost in the intensity of the moment. He stayed with you through every pulse of pleasure, his mouth working you gently as your climax washed over you, prolonging the sensation by sucking on your clit until you could no longer take it.

As you came down from your high, your breathing ragged, Nanami slowly withdrew his fingers, placing soft kisses along your thigh before sitting up. His gaze was filled with adoration as he watched you recover, his eyes trailing over your body with reverence. “You’re beautiful when you come undone,” he said softly, his voice full of awe. “I could worship you like this for hours.”

Nanami leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing away the single tear that had escaped during your climax and he couldn’t stop his smirk, you were so sensitive and he’d barely even started. “Are you okay?” he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with care, “I want to make sure I don't push you too far.”

You nodded, overwhelmed with emotion, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. "I just want you, Nanami," you whispered, your voice filled with longing.

His gaze softened as he reached for his belt, slowly undoing the buckle, his movements deliberate. He paused, searching your eyes for any hesitation, any uncertainty. But all he found was the same desire reflected back at him.

He smiled softly, leaning over to the bedside table and going through the drawer before retrieving a condom and some lube, ready to continue, but ensuring your comfort every step of the way.

Nanami’s hands moved with care as he opened the condom, his gaze still focused intently on you, as if each moment was something to be cherished. His heart raced, not just with the heat of desire, but with the overwhelming tenderness he felt for you. He wanted everything to be perfect—gentle, yet powerful in its intimacy.

The tension in the room was palpable, but it wasn’t just sexual. It was the weight of trust, the sacred bond forming between you as he prepared for what was to come. You felt it too, that sense of something so deeply meaningful, and it made your pulse quicken.

With the condom securely in place, Nanami applied a generous amount of lube as he soaked in the sight of your body beneath him, your silk dress still bunched around your waist. His eyes were filled with a mixture of admiration and reverence as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, full of love and passion.

“I need you to tell me if you’re okay, if anything feels wrong,” he whispered, his voice low but filled with concern. “Do you wanna’ be on top? It might be better for you.”

You felt a surge of warmth in your chest at Nanami’s question, his consideration only deepening the intimacy between you. His concern was genuine, and it made you feel cherished in a way you had never experienced before. The idea of being in control, of setting the pace, appealed to you, especially with the softness and care in his gaze.

You nodded, smiling up at him, the anticipation building in the pit of your stomach. “Yeah, I think I’d like that,” you replied softly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside of you.

Nanami’s eyes softened even further, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. With a gentle movement, he shifted positions, lying back on the bed, his strong arms helping you climb atop him. You straddled his hips, your hands resting on his chest for balance, feeling the heat of his body beneath your palms. The vulnerability of the moment didn’t make you feel exposed—it made you feel powerful, like you were in control, but still cradled in his unwavering support.

Nanami’s hands found your thighs, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin as he looked up at you with reverence. “Take your time,” he murmured, his voice deep and comforting. “There’s no rush.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you hovered just above his cock. You adjusted and the sensation of his hardness against your pussy sent a jolt of excitement through you, and you felt yourself growing even wetter, your body more than ready for him. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, the initial stretch making you gasp softly and you had to pause for a moment before taking a little more. Nanami’s grip on your thighs tightened just a fraction, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt you take him in, inch by inch.

You slowly took more of him in, feeling more of a stretch, a slight sting from a fullness that made your body tremble with a mixture of pleasure and anticipation. You could feel Nanami’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs, his silent encouragement pushing you forward, but never rushing you. His gaze was fixed on your face, filled with nothing but patience and reverence.

You glanced down, your eyes following the path of your own body as you straddled him, only to realise with a jolt that you weren’t fully there yet. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you noticed how much of him was still left to take. The realisation made your heart race, a mixture of awe and nervousness swirling inside you.

Nanami seemed to sense your hesitation, his hands moving from your thighs to your waist, steadying you. He lifted his head slightly, brushing a kiss against your collarbone, his warm breath soothing against your skin. “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice gentle but reassuring. “You’re doing so well. Take your time. We don’t need to rush anything.”

His words grounded you, reminding you of the trust you shared, the connection that went beyond the physical. You let out a shaky breath, nodding as you slowly relaxed into him again, feeling his fingers gently massaging your waist. You could feel his restraint, the way his body tensed under yours, but he held back for you, waiting, letting you set the pace.

You lowered yourself further, feeling the stretch intensify, your body accommodating his size inch by inch. A soft whimper escaped your lips as you took him in completely, the fullness sending a wave of pleasure mixed with a slight sting through your core. You paused, breathless, your body adjusting to the sensation, the initial tightness making you shudder.

The feeling of fullness was overwhelming, but in the best way possible. A deep groan escaped Nanami’s lips, his hands now gripping your hips as he gazed up at you with pure desire, mixed with tenderness. You sat there for a moment, letting your body get used to the sensation, and Nanami’s hands continued their gentle, grounding movements on your skin.

His gaze was filled with concern and affection, watching your every reaction carefully, ensuring that you were okay. He let out a low groan, his chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths as he fought to control his own desire, giving you the time you needed.

“Take all the time you need,” he murmured softly, his voice laced with restraint and tenderness. He leaned up slightly, brushing a gentle kiss against your temple, his lips lingering there, offering comfort and reassurance. “I’m here with you.”

You nodded, eyes closing as you focused on the feeling of him inside you, the stretch easing bit by bit as your body adjusted. The sting was still there, but it began to fade, replaced by a warm, overwhelming sense of connection. Your muscles relaxed, the tension in your body melting as you slowly started to get used to the fullness, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you like a protective cocoon.

Nanami’s thumbs brushed gentle circles over your hips, his voice a soothing balm. “You feel incredible,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

He was big, but the lube helped, and you allowed yourself to adjust comfortably. You could see the strain in his expression, the effort it took for him to hold back, to let you take the lead. It made you smile, knowing how much he wanted you but how much more he wanted to take care of you.

You began to move slowly, adjusting to the sensation of him inside you. With each shift of your hips, the initial tightness gave way to a deeper, more profound pleasure, but the fullness still made you pause every now and then, needing time to take it all in. Nanami’s hands caressed your skin, his touch comforting and grounding, encouraging you to move at your own pace.

As you lifted yourself up slightly, you felt a slight bit of discomfort that reminded you of the tenderness of the moment. Glancing down, you noticed a small spot of blood where your bodies met. Your breath hitched for a second, a wave of nervousness flickering through you, you weren’t worried, it was your first time, after all. Still, the sight made your heart race, if only for a brief moment.

Before you could say anything, Nanami’s hand moved to cup your cheek, his eyes soft and filled with concern. He had noticed your gaze and the subtle change in your expression. “Hey,” he whispered, his thumb brushing your cheek in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay. That’s normal.”

His voice was calm, reassuring, like a gentle anchor pulling you back to the present. His eyes never wavered from yours, filled with nothing but tenderness and understanding. “If it’s too much, we can stop. You don’t have to push yourself, love.”

You shook your head softly, your chest swelling with affection for him, for the way he always prioritised your comfort. "No, it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice steady, despite the nerves that had briefly surfaced.

“You’re doing so well.” he murmured, his voice deep and strained with pleasure. His hands guided your hips in a slow rhythm, matching your pace.

Your confidence grew with each movement, the connection between you intensifying. The pleasure coursed through you like a steady pulse, and you couldn’t help but smile as you realised how much you enjoyed the feeling of being in control, of taking your time with him. Despite the initial discomfort, the intimacy was beyond anything you had imagined.

Nanami’s hands moved to your waist, guiding you but never forcing your pace. His eyes never left yours, watching you with a mix of adoration and hunger, as if he was committing every detail of this moment to memory. His quiet groans and whispered praises filled the room, encouraging you to move faster, to take what you needed from him.

The rhythm between you and Nanami deepened, each movement becoming a sacred dance of shared desire. As you rode him, the discomfort faded, replaced by waves of pleasure that seemed to ripple through your entire being. The connection you felt, the intimacy between you, was almost otherworldly—like something pure and divine. It was as if you were both part of something much larger than the physical act itself, something holy, like the intertwining of souls.

Nanami’s quiet groans echoed softly in your ears, blending with the sound of your own breathless moans. His eyes never wavered from yours, holding you in a gaze that felt reverent, as if he were worshipping you in this moment. His hands on your waist were not just guiding you—they were anchoring you to this present, sacred moment. The tenderness in his touch was a constant reminder that this wasn’t just about pleasure—it was about connection, trust, and love.

With each gentle rise and fall of your hips, you felt the tension between you building, a shared crescendo that felt like a prayer being offered to the heavens. The room seemed to glow, the soft light casting shadows that danced across your skin, making the moment feel almost ethereal. You could feel Nanami’s restraint, the way he held back, allowing you to lead, to take what you needed.

You glanced down again, noticing the faint trace of blood still lingering where your bodies met, but instead of worry, it felt like a symbol of something being born between the two of you. It was raw and beautiful in a way that made your heart swell.

Nanami’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his words a low, reverent whisper. “You’re divine,” he Nanami's voice pulled you from your thoughts, his whispered words, "You're divine," he breathed, his hands squeezing your hips gently as you moved. "You feel so damn perfect."

Shivers ran across your skin at his praise. You had never felt so connected with another person-so enveloped in the pleasure, in the love radiating between you.

But with every shift it grew, not just from the physical, but it felt as though your very souls were craving for each other, entwining like a vine in a precious garden. Every word that came from Nanami was some sort of hallowed sound. His breath on your lips, hands against your skin...it was the kind of veneration one pays to something holy.

Nanami's fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his touch soft and soothing. Soft kisses pressed against your forehead, your cheeks, your lips-each one another silent declaration of love to you.

As Nanami held you close, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your skin, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. You were his best friend's daughter. It came to him in a flash, momentarily pulling him out of the sacredness of the moment, but he shut it down, refusing to let it intrude.

He wasn't thinking about that now, not when you were here with him, your bodies connected in such a profound, intimate manner. The tenderness in his touch was real; the love he felt for you stronger than any sense of guilt or propriety. It wasn't about what anyone else might think. It was about you, about the trust and bond you'd built together.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to your temple, a silent reassurance, as if it was a sealing of his resolution. Nothing was going to mar this moment-not the past, not expectations, not the weight of responsibility. His fingers dug into your skin, not in a harmful manner but in one speaking volumes about his need to hold on to you, to keep you close. "I'm here," he whispered-a quiet affirmation, yet a promise to himself and you, all at once. "I’ll be all yours-"

The words spoke of everything unsaid, all he couldn't explain yet knew in his heart.

With every subtle rise and fall of your hips, every time your walls clenched around his cock, the tension of the moment surged between you-a crescendo of shared longing that tugged along your very veins like a heartbeat. But as you got lost in the rhythm, you felt the change in Nanami's energy. "Let me take over," he whispered, voice low and full of promise. You nodded, breathless, feeling the thrill of anticipation at the thought.

As you eased yourself off him, his hands guided you gently to the side, and he shifted his position with grace. You found yourself lying back against the soft sheets as your heart pounded in your chest.

As Nanami settled between your legs, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in them making your heart race. There was something of the power in his eyes, a quiet confidence that coursed a thrill through you. You felt vulnerable yet cherished, knowing he was fully present, ready to guide you deeper into this moment.

Nanami lifted your ankles up, with a deliberate care, and laid them over his shoulders. The position opened you up to him; it heightened the sensation as he moved in closer. A soft gasp escaped you in a mix of surprise and delight flooding the senses because the positioning allowed for a completely new depth of connection.

"Just breathe," he whispered, his tone silky and soothing as he watched your reaction. His hands wrapped around your legs, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin as he gently pushed his cock inside again, sliding through with ease now. The angle was completely different, hitting all the right spots, sending jolts of pleasure through your core.

His thrusts were slow and deep, taking his time, wanting you to feel every inch of him inside you. "Kento," you gasped, body instinctively arching toward him as pleasure mounted inside of you. This position allowed him to explore you more fully, each thrust setting off a fire that coursed through your veins, racing your heart and quickening your breath.

He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness, as if he were committing to memory every reaction, every sigh escaping your lips. "You're incredible," he whispered, the admiration in his voice wrapping around you like a warm caress.

He quickened the pace with each thrust, and his motions grew urgent in his urge to take you higher. The tension coiled inside of you tighter and tighter with each stroke. Nanami pressed forward, his lips grazing your forehead before tracing soft kisses down the hollow of your neck, each one sending new waves coursing through your veins. "Let go," he whispered, the soft air of his voice dancing upon your skin. "Just feel.

With his words still echoing in your mind, you succumbed to the moment and the pleasure heaving upon you like a tidal wave. Anything less would make the connection between the two all-consuming; every thrust pulls you deeper into the bliss of shared intimacy.

As he drove deeper, instinctively, your body coiled around him, pulling him in closer, urging him on. You heard the quiet, breathless groans escaping from his lips, each a testament to the overwhelming pleasure being felt together.

"Just like that-" you encouraged, your voice trembling with need as you lost yourself in the rhythm, each thrust sending you spiralling further into ecstasy. Everything else around you disappeared but the two of you entwined in a dance of passion, a sacred union of body and soul.

He was taken aback by just how beautiful you looked, lying there.

“You really do look angelic," he breathed, staring at the way the dress clung to you. It was surreal to him-how someone so beautiful, so vibrant, could be here, completely vulnerable and open, just for him. The mere thought shot a surge of possessiveness rushing through him, igniting something deep within his core.

"I can’t believe I’m the only one that gets to see you like this," he said, his voice low and husky. The unspoken implication hung in the air, heavy with meaning. A fierce pride swelled inside of him, a protective instinct that raced his heart faster. You were his, and no one else had the privilege to know you this way.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses against your legs, savouring it. "Knowing I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this-to feel you and see you… it drives me wild," he confessed, words tumbling from his lips in an fervour that even caught him off guard. It was not merely in the act itself but in the depth of your connection, the trust that you had in one another. He couldn’t deny this had sparked up a desire of possession in him for you.

As you moved your hips to meet his thrusts, he groaned, burying his head against your shoulder, almost bending you in half from the angle he had your legs now. The deeper he thrust, the more the feeling of you wrapped around him intensified. Every thrust reminded him of the privilege he held, and he never wanted to forget the feeling of being inside you.

It wasn't one of those moments that would come and go but a promise of what was yet to be, an opportunity to get to know the inside of your relationship in that way-in ways more than physical. And in that realisation, a surge of determination overcame him to always cherish you, protect you, and make you aware of how well loved you were.

The rhythm between you picked up, Nanami holding you close as he thrust deeper, pushing you toward the edge of ecstasy. Your reactions to him-the gasps and moans falling from your lips-caused his heart to race even faster, firing up a flame of desire that threatened to consume him whole.

“I don't think I'm gonna let you go now," he murmured, his voice thick with affection. You felt shivers run down your spine at the conviction he drew behind the statement, a delicious thrill coursing through you. It sounded like a promise, a validation of this moment being more than just a one night thing.

With every thrust, it was like he testified to the fact that he knew you were meant to be together this way, bound by something more real than lust. "If you’ll have more of me, I swear I’ll treat you right" he whispered low, truthfulness in his voice raw and palpable.

As he continued to move, the pace becoming more insistent, the heat rose between you. The way you surrendered to him, trusting him implicitly, made his resolve even stronger. He wanted to protect you, to preserve this connection with every part of his being.

“I want you in my life…properly" he breathed, his voice breaking slightly, his emotions spilling over. "I want to be your person.”

Your eyes met and everything just felt so right. You could see the honesty in his eyes-the fierce protectiveness wrapping around you like a warm hug. This wasn't about desire; it was about love, wanting to be together in every sense.

He continued to move, each thrust a declaration, each moment together a step deeper into the bond you were forging. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice firm and unwavering, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate movement. "And I'm yours, now and always."

He was putting every ounce into you, feeding the fire that was bursting to last between the two-this moment in the engraving of your hearts forever. Everything else faded around you, and it came down to just the two of you, entwined together in a dance as old as time, bound by passion and an unbreakable connection that seemed to be written across the stars.

With every thrust, the intensity between you became all too much. Nanami began to move with greater urgency, his grip upon you tightening as he urged you toward the brink.

It was as if you could feel the pressure build up in you, spiralling tighter and tighter every time his cock hit that sweet spot inside you. The room echoed with the sounds of your shared breathing, the soft slapping of skin to skin, and the sweet symphony of pleasure mingled together.

“I’m not holding back,” he growled, urgency creeping into his tone. “I want you to feel everything. I want you to remember this.” With that, he quickened his pace, thrusting deeper, harder, pushing you both closer to the edge. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, overwhelming your senses, and you could feel the tightness coiling in your core.

“Kento,” you gasped, the sound slipping from your lips unbidden. The tension was unbearable, a sweet torment that made your heart race. You could feel your body responding instinctively, tightening around him, urging him on, begging for release.

“I’m right here,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, even as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. “Let go for me.” His words ignited a spark within you, and you felt the wave building higher, ready to crash over you both.

With one final thrust, everything aligned—the heat, the pressure, the connection—and you felt yourself spiralling over the edge. Your body trembled as waves of pleasure washed over you, crashing through you with an intensity that left you breathless. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the space between you, as ecstasy enveloped you completely.

You held onto him as you gushed around his cock, the way you clenched around him drew him deeper into the bliss and he followed closely, his own climax hitting him like a tidal wave, surging right through him. “Oh God,” he groaned, the sound raw and primal, his own body responding instinctively to the way you embraced him.

He savoured the aftershocks of the moment, thankful in this moment that he’d worn a condom. And as the waves of pleasure began to recede, you were breathless and spent.

Nanami gently lowered your legs from his shoulders, his touch tender and deliberate. He cradled your ankles in his hands, mindful of the way the position had pulled and stretched your muscles. His fingers began to massage softly, kneading the tension away with a skillful touch that made you sigh in contentment.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and warm, a blend of concern and affection. He looked at you with those deep eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort. The intimacy of the moment enveloped you both like a soft blanket, grounding you in the reality of what you’d just shared.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your lips as you felt his gentle hands work their magic. “I’m perfect,” you breathed, your heart swelling with warmth as you took in the sight of him—the way he focused on you, the care he put into every movement. “Thank you.”

Nanami’s lips curved into a satisfied smile at your words, and he leaned down, placing soft kisses along your ankles and up your calves, each press of his mouth sending a shiver of delight through your body. It felt like a sacred ritual, a way for him to honour the experience you had just shared. He continued to massage your legs, his fingers moving with deliberate care, ensuring you felt cherished and adored.

“I want to take my time with you” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and tantalising. As he kissed his way back up to your thighs, he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of mischief and sincerity.

“You have me,” you replied, your voice soft but full of promise. “All of me.”

Nanami’s gaze turned serious for a moment, a flicker of something profound passing between you. “I don’t take that lightly,” he said, sincerity lacing his tone. “You mean a lot to me.”

He paused, taking in the moment, the connection that thrummed between you. He quickly discarded the condom before leaning in, capturing your lips with his in a slow, tender kiss that ignited another spark within you. The world around you faded, and all that existed was the taste of him, the warmth of his body, and the way he made you feel—safe, cherished, and completely desired.

“Let’s stay like this for a while,” Nanami whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours, creating a heady sensation that made you smile. You nodded, content to linger in this cocoon of warmth and affection, feeling utterly adored in the aftermath of your shared bliss.

The world outside ceased to exist as you both lost yourselves in each other, the echoes of your passion fading into soft whispers, leaving only the sweet sound of your hearts beating in perfect harmony.

taglist:

@l0v3m3-p13as3 @hishearttohave @crybabysiri

@jays-adventure3 @nctislifue @eeveedvck @needtoloveoutloud @yowumi

@sweetpo1son @betelgeuse420 @yuhig-blog @psychedellyc @char-35

@kaeyeahsworld @sukunadckrider @ladyackermanisdead

5K notes · View notes

lostalioth · 6 months ago

Text

𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫

→ premise: sometimes logan’s age showed more than it normally would and so just once you called him an old man, affectionally of course. Well he was determined to show you he wasn’t one.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, nicknames [baby, sweet girl, princess], daddy kink, both reader and logan use old man as a nickname, oral [f receiving], unprotected sex, established relationship, slight overstimulation.

→ a/n: the pictures/moodborad above are purely for vibes :) you can imagine any logan pretty much for this fic i think. this is mt first time writing logan so sorry if hes out of character and sorry for any mistakes this was written and proof read at 1am.

Logan wasn’t the type of man to be insecure about his age, his body and face didn’t necessarily show it like how it did on others obviously. He was well aware he was way older than you, he was much older than most people. His age showed more with his taste in music and movies, even in some of the outdated slang he frequently used.

You were currently laid up in your shared bed with Logan. You loved being curled up in his lap, your head resting on his chest cuddled up against him. A cigar nestled between Logan's lips, him periodically puffing out smoke. One of his arms lazily resting over your body holding you against him. An older movie was playing on the tv in the background, the volume was high enough for you to hear it, however you could hardly pay attention. Your mind was too lost in how domestic and old timey it all was, the feeling making your heart flutter.

“You know this was my favorite movie, well one of 'em used to watch it all the time” Logan's gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought.

You look up at your boyfriend and smile softly, his gaze fixated on the black and white images flashing across the screen. You chuckle softly and reach up towards his neck to thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. An action that Logan has come to love and even crave on the days when life gets just a little too much.

“You're such an old man” your voice breaks his focus , it was teasing and full of affection as you said it. Logan could clearly hear it, and your statement was correct and didn't bother him, however he couldn't help the little plan forming in his head to mess with you. Shaking your head lightly you turn your attention back on the television.

“Ya’ wanna say that again sweet girl?” He leans his head down, all his attention now glued to you. His words came out almost mockingly instantly making your gaze snap back up to him. He grabs ahold of your chin so that your focus and your eyes stay on him. You knew that teasing tone of voice like the back of your hand by now and what it meant. It made the flutter in your heart drop to your stomach, his arm that was wrapped around your body tightens. You can feel him starting to grow harder against your thigh, making you squirm a bit in his grasp. You swallow hard, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Logan watches as your pupils dilate and that sweet smell that he's become addicted to fills his nose, giving away your own growing arousal.

“Cause i'm thinkin’ you just called me old princess” He cocks his head to the side in a teasing manner, his lips breaking out in a smirk. Still not being able to find your words you shake your head ‘no’ causing him to chuckle deeply. “No? cause i think ya’ did baby, yeah i think you called me an old man” His words come out in almost a growl as he leans forward, pushing you down on your back. His body now perfectly nestled between your legs as he hovers over you, pinning you down with his weight. His large rough hands holding onto your hips, one slowly drifting and pushing up the t-shirt you had on. A t-shirt that looked an awful lot like the one he's been looking for all week.

“Maybe i did.. but you are an actual old man Logan, you’re much older than me baby” Finally finding your voice you attempt to explain yourself, though you knew he wasn't actually upset by your comment. His strained cock pressed against your clothed cunt being more than an indication of that. Your damp panties and his jeans doing nothing to stop him from feeling the way your pussy was throbbing already from his teasing.

“Yea? Well ima show you just what this old man can do huh” He questioned, barely giving you a moment to answer. Wasting no time he has your shirt pushed up revealing your bare tits and his other hand pulling your panties down your legs. Sliding down your body and the bed he slowly kisses down your exposed chest and stomach until his head has made it between your spread thighs. “Logan..” you whine softly, your eyes glued to his every move as you grow more impatient. A rush of cold air hits your lower half when he finally rids you of your soaked underwear.

That damn smirk not wavering from his face as he grabs ahold of your thighs and nearly growls when his tongue finally laps at your pussy. “Fuck i dont think i’ll ever get over just how fuckin’ good you taste baby” his words come out a bit mumbled as his face is buried between your folds. “Lo..” you whine in embarrassment at his statement. Your slick had coated his face in seconds, though it was clear he could care less, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Even biting the nub softly causing your hips to buck up against his face, his scruffy facial hair rubbing your inner thighs. He groans against you and grips your legs tighter pulling you closer to his mouth.

“Daddy…fuck!” You gasp softly and moan at the sensation and tighten your thighs around his head, Logan's favorite thing was to feel your plush thighs squeeze his head. His adamantium skull being able to take the pressure. You can feel him smile against you at both the name and the action. “Atta girl, princess. Such a good girl for ya’ old man” he praises, his deep voice vibrating through your body.

Letting your clit go Logan pulls away for a moment, dropping his grip on one of your thighs as well to bring his hand and spread apart your lips. Leaning his head back a bit he spits on your pussy, his saliva sliding down to your throbbing hole. “Fuck she always looks so pretty sweet girl” he hums in approaval and admiration at your pussy. His eyes finally lift back up to your face, he takes note of your already blissed out look. “No cuming til I tell you baby, ya’ got it?” He questions, a small smile on his face that was covered in you.

“Yes daddy” you whine, your voice coming out a bit soft as you were taking the time he was giving you to catch your breath.

With a small smack to the side of your ass he dives his head back down, sticking his tongue out flat and licking a strip up the center of your cunt. Growling and burying his face between your legs again he laps and sucks at your clit and folds. Your hips having a mind of their own buck up against his mouth, nearly riding his face. His hips rutting up against the bed of their own accord as well, his precum now leaking through his boxers a bit. His cock straining against his jeans as wonton moans and whimpers leave your lips. Your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as his tongue every now and then pushes inside you and his nose nudges your swollen nub.

You could feel your climax quickly approaching, pushing your fingers through Logan's signature tufts of hair and pulling his face closer. “Fuck- Lo…Daddy please” you moan out pleading with your boyfriend to let you cum. He squeezed your thigh and groaned roughly against you, you knew that was his way of saying ‘not yet’. You whine and tug harder on his hair causing him to let out a small muffled moan. He pulls his face away a bit and with his hand that wasn't squeezing your leg he slips two fingers through your lips, collecting his spit and your slick together. Continuing his attack on your nearly now oversensitive clit he slides his thick soaked fingers inside you stretching you slowly. The rough pads of them instantly finding that spot deep inside you.

“Daddy I don't- uh shit! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, please Logannn!” You moan and whine out his name as your hips thrust back against his skilled fingers and rut against his face. Your high teetering on the edge as you try your hardest to hold it back. “Cum baby, cum on daddy's face princess” he commands and in an instant your body responds and allows your climax to hit you head on.

A string of curses leave Logan's lips as he laps at your cum as it leaks out of you, broken whines and small moans leave yours as he draws out your climax a bit longer. Finally emerging from between your legs, his lips swollen and pink, the whole lower half of his face covered in yours and his combined mess. Heat floods your face a bit at the sight, though your boyfriends still got that smirk glued to his pretty face. The dynamic of you being nearly entirely naked and him still entirely clothed caused an ache to settle back in your core as if Logan hadn’t just made you cum.

He makes his way bad up your body, quickly pulling off his shirt as well as finally pulling yours up and over your head, definitely leaving you entirely naked now. Leaning down, pressing his crotch right up against yours, his clothed bulging cock nudging open your wet and sticky folds. His lips hover over yours as his hand slides up your side, the other brushing over your breast before it’s wrapped around your neck and pinning you back against the bed. He squeezes your neck softly making you let out a whimper.

“You were saying baby?” His voice comes out deep and a bit hoarse as he questions your previous comment again. “Not callin’ me an old man now are ya’ sweet girl, noo cause you cant even talk” he mocks, a small smile on his face as he rocks his hips up against your pussy, the rough material of his jeans stimulating your abused bundle of nerves setting it off again. Your slick creates a wet spot on his jeans the more he grinds his dick against you.

“Won’t do it again i swear daddy, you're not an old man” you whimper softly as your hands grab at his arms and hands, your fingers rubbing at his knuckles where his claws rip through the skin. When his fly zipper brushes your clit you let out a short moan and move to grab at the waist of his jeans tugging, trying to get him to take them off. Tears lightly coat your eyelashes as you bat them at Logan. He scoffs softly and shakes his head at you as he lets go of your neck to undo his belt and the buttons to his jeans, pulling off his belt and jeans. You watch with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes, your chest heaving in impatience, hands wandering his body and rubbing over his muscly arms and board chest. He tugs his boxers down his thighs as he grabs your legs, wrapping your thighs around his waist. His tip leaking precum is redden and twitching as he rubs it through your lips before pushing at your hole.

“Come on princess, apologize for it” he goes painfully slow as he pushes inside you. “Apologize nicely for calling daddy an old man” he grins and brings his hand up to your boob, brushing his rough thumb over your nipple. You gasp softly and whine, wiggling your hips both in protest and to try and get him inside you faster.

Realizing he won't keep going further til you apologize, you give in. Pulling him down and closer, you wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. “I'm really sorry for calling you an old man Lo, i didn't mean it i promise. You're not an old man daddy” you whine and brush your lips softly against his. “Oh fuck, you’re so sweet on me baby i love it” he growls and thrusts inside you hard as his lips crash against yours. You moan out loudly the sound muffled in Logan's mouth as his hips snap against yours. His cock thrusting deep inside you, hitting that spongy spot making your brain go foggy. Kissing you hard and passionately as his hands roam your body not being able to stop himself from touching you everywhere, you're all his anyway.

“My sweet, sweet princess, takin’ it so good from your old man huh?” He groans and presses his forehead against yours as your hips bounce off his. All you can do is frantically nod and mumble and whine about how good he feels and say yes daddy. Your nails digging into his back and running through his hair.

Logan may be an old man but he was your old man and he definitely didnt fuck like one. He knew how to keep up with his sweet little young girlfriend.

→ a/n: hope you enjoyed my loves, PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN REQUESTS< MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND IM CURRENTLY OBESSED WITH THIS MAN

4K notes · View notes

not-neverland06 · 7 months ago

Text

n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress.

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other.

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since.

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn.

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer.

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face.

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy.

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face.

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan.

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound.

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.”

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel.

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now.

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan.

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar.

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense.

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her.

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be.

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out.

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer.

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here.

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt.

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit.

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers.

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom.

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar.

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.”

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that.

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him.

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder.

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all.

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations.

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice.

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title.

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break.

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar.

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you.

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind.

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish.

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across.

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now.

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him.

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question.

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone.

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word.

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him.

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you.

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel.

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you.

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name.

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside.

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles.

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream.

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion.

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away.

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force.

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window.

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise.

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation.

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown.

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it.

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout.

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid.

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?”

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him.

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed.

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you.

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry.

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands.

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy.

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore.

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry.

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess.

“You look like shit.”

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands.

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath.

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears.

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all.

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head.

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah.

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now.

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything.

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night.

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her.

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you.

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you.

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit.

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions.

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree.

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place.

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside.

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that.

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again.

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day.

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together.

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head.

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off.

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.”

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it.

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem.

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs.

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you.

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes.

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out.

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is.

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench.

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan.

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in.

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other.

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit.

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead.

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him.

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head.

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this.

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him.

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out.

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care.

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic.

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him.

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face.

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic.

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care.

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back.

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care.

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building.

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat.

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out.

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over.

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him.

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go.

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you.

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open.

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you.

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge.

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing.

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place.

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy.

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for.

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered.

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.”

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other.

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back.

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers.

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings.

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.”

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it.

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

#Wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #x men #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #smut #ohmygod #i can’t believe i wrote this #Someone sedate me #im just a girl #i cant be blamed LOOK AT HIM #he's actually older than every adult man in my life #can you tell i need therapy

5K notes · View notes