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junedenim · 2 days ago

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wrap my head around it all

a whole new thing

warnings: it's just fluff

word count: 3k

You're eating a bagel. He's drinking a cup of coffee. There's an ache that's been relieved. It feels this way whenever he comes home and he's been home for a month now but he still feels just how good this is, looking across at you as you scarf down a bagel so quickly he fears you'll choke.

"It isn't going anywhere." He chuckles at his own joke. He's ashamed of himself, you don't have to tell him.

And you know that. You wipe your hands on a napkin and throw your head back with a groan. "I'm so hungry."

He grins. "Do you want me to get you another one?"

You hum in thought, taking your time like you're concentrating on solving world hunger. Then, you sigh, your shoulders slumping as your hands return to what remains of your bagel. "No. I'll spoil lunch."

He chuckles and rests his head in the palm of his left hand. His gaze is soft and relaxed, focused on you. "I hate to break it to you but we're way past noon. That is your lunch."

You whine and rub the cream cheese off the corners of your mouth. "Fine. Then, I'm spoiling dinner. How would your parents like it if I didn't eat anything?"

He laughs at your worry and picks up his cup of coffee, dragging a sip from it. "I think they'll understand. Plus, I highly doubt you won't be hungry by dinner time."

Your shoulders slump as you chew the remains of your bagel. "I know, it's dreadful. This constant state of hunger I've been forced into."

"We all appreciate it," Alex assures, hiding his amusement from your frustration. "At least you're not retching every 20 minutes."

You lean back in your chair and drop the dirty napkin with the rest of your bagel's trash. "Small favours, huh?"

"Do you want me to get you another one?" Alex offers again. His attentiveness to you has only grown through the years. Perhaps, now, it's at an all-time high. But he likes being able to take care of you. It's the least he can do.

You shake your head. "No, I'd like to walk around a little now." It's cold, windy, and slightly raining. People are rushing into the cafe from the cold, but you want to walk around in it. He supposes there is where you lose him but he'll tighten his coat, put on a hat, and slip on some gloves if it's what you want. Besides, if it'll stop you complaining about how hot the cafe is then he can't complain.

He fixes the askew hat on your head and opens the door for you. As you two walk down the street, he places his hands in his pockets, forming a loop of his arms. You slip your arm through it, tugging him close, brushing your side up against his. "It's going to rain all week," Alex comments on the weather patterns.

"I like it when it rains." You are smiling through the gloom. In that smile, there's a lifetime of love and it is so strange that it feels so normal for him to feel this way. It was never a gradual thing. It was sudden the first time you talked to one another and he felt that he could reach out to you and you would never push him away. Silver lining is cheesy but all that tension he builds throughout his life is somehow relieved in the glimmer of your teeth.

The mundanity is the craziest. Everything felt like it had to be a big show of things. He had to slick back his hair and play make-believe in every moment but now, it's a sigh of relief. To come home to someone—to come home to you and not have to play pretend anymore. To roll out of bed and not have to decide who to play today, instead, decide where to go for breakfast.

Maybe it's getting older, but he thinks it lies in learning the importance of caring for someone else. He always has with his friends and family and past girlfriends but there's something different here. It's him relinquishing himself to that, allowing you to look after him. To wake up and find you've made coffee or come home and find you've bought him a new shirt. It's simple. Doing the laundry, cooking dinner, grocery shopping. It's so dull but in fact the greatest thing ever. That feeling has only grown as of late.

"Where are we walking to?" He asks.

You shrug and look over at him. "I don't know. We could...window shop or...," you think, tapping your finger on your chin, "go to the park or—"

"In the rain?" He questions, an eyebrow raised.

You smile and lean closer to him. Something you know gets him all twisted up around your finger, and you are willing to do anything you decide. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," he reasons, but the grin is already playing on his lips and light chuckles ripple through him as your lips grow closer and closer until you're hovering over his.

"Fine," you decide, shocking him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm cold," you declare. You cuddle closer to him all pouty. It's the way you've been as of late whether the cold of winter or your hormones. "Let's go baby shopping."

"Baby shopping?"

"Yeah, we haven't really done it yet and we could look for cute itty bitty baby clothes," you reason.

The baby is new. Or rather the pregnancy. It's the reason for dinner with his parents. It wasn't planned but it wasn't unplanned. You'd been together for years, married for two, and, well, you, him, and baby makes three.

You found out a couple of weeks ago. It's changed things for him with the whole caring thing. He's always cared, obviously, but now he finds himself interested in every little aspect of the pregnancy. He'd never thought he'd be that guy who reads the books and talks to your stomach (which you don't know about, he's too embarrassed to do it while you're awake), but things change and he'd never thought he'd be a father but here he is walking into a baby clothing store to buy clothes for his—well, your—baby.

He still hasn't processed the whole "baby" part of things. He knows there will be a baby but he can't yet imagine having the baby. You being pregnant doesn't even quite feel real yet. You're barely showing and he only feels it might be real when he talks to it. That feels weird to call it it. But he's tried calling it he or she but that's a mouthful. You don't like him calling it it so he started calling it names.

First, it was normal. "Mary," "John," "Elizabeth," "James," but you didn't like that either because the baby didn't have a name. The baby hasn't even developed that part of them yet. So, he calls it "tot," "bug," "pumpkin," and his personal favorite, "the fetus." You're not sure why but he makes him laugh. Maybe it's the boyish part of him that still thinks boobies are the coolest thing ever.

"Should we really buy clothes if we don't know the gender yet?" He asks as you search through the girlish items.

"A baby isn't modeling for the cover of Vogue. We just need to find an outfit to take the baby home in. A hat and a onesie." You pick up a cute pink one with little pink bows printed across it. "Look how cute and small this one is."

"What if it's a boy?"

You roll your eyes. "Real men wear pink, you know that better than anyone."

He chuckles. "Touché."

You point the onesie back and state, "Besides, we're probably going to have a girl anyway. My family is filled with girls."

"Well, my family has guys," Alex points out.

"What? You?" You laugh at him. "Yes, statistically your parents did have 100% guys."

"Shut up," he mutters as he comes closer and lands a kiss on you. There are the moments that count, that are embedded and embossed deep into his mind. They are small but mighty. It's right up there with shopping for a new shower curtain. It's stupid but it's real. Arguing over whether it should be flowers or ducks (he really wanted the ducks for some reason). You compromised with polka dots, not that that part matters much. It was more doing it with you. He doesn't know why other than it's fun and he loves you.

You move further down the aisle, looking through bees, princesses, and truck designs. "The baby will be born in August. What screams August to you?"

"Sweat," he replies.

"Be serious," you urge him, your eyes staring strongly at him. He can feel the pupil blaze through him like a laser.

"I am," he says, "I think of sweating, the heat, sun."

"Aw," you coo as a smile grows on your lips. "Cute little suns and if we have a son then it'll be like son and sun. Get it?"

He smiles down at you, struggling to process all of this. "Yeah, I get it." A son, a daughter, a child. It knocks him off his feet. He gets hit with these waves. It's nerves but it's also excitement. The idea that a baby will be in that small onesie. A part of him will be in the world, running off, getting into nonsense. He has a few years until that. Hopefully, he'll catch up by then.

You buy the onesie with suns on it and leave after that. There will be plenty of time to spend plenty more money at the store but for now, you head to the bookstore next door. It's small with aching floors and dusty shelves. You're just trying to kill time until dinner and this seems like a good place to start.

You drag him by hand to the children's book section because despite it being another few years until the baby can read, but you like the idea of reading to the baby every night, even if they can't understand a word of what you're saying. Between Madeline and The Giving Tree, you say, "You know, these are the last couple of months of our lives, it'll be just the two of us."

He picks up Curious George, distracting himself by looking through the pictures. "You say that like you want me to panic."

"No," you assure him, placing your hands on his shoulder, giving them a squeeze. "This is such a special time in our lives. We'll never experience something like this again. Shopping for our baby, nervous, scared, anxious, happy, excited. And I get to do it all with you."

He shakes his head and puts Curious George back on the shelf, turning to you. "You really have a gift."

"What?" You ask eagerly.

Alex takes your hands off his shoulders and squeezes them. "Nothing. You just always know how to make me feel better."

"I know it's hard for you to believe but it goes both ways. I'm panicking too, you know? I have to push a whole human being out of me."

"I know. How selfish am I to be the one who's scared."

"No. It's perfectly reasonable. It's a life-changing thing that'll cry, poop, pee, and spit all over you. I guess, I just take comfort in knowing I have you to hold my hand."

He takes a deep breath and tries to let the stress go. "You're going make me cry next to Harold and the Purple Crayon."

"Well, this is my way of guilting you into changing all the diapers so it works out pretty good."

Alex then gets carried away by a Batman Lego set and despite the knowledge that it can't be anywhere near a child until it's no longer a choking hazard. Perhaps, it's more for Alex than the baby. He doesn't get it because he doesn't want to carry it around for the rest of the day but he's not saying he won't come back for it.

You leave with Harold and the Purple Crayon for memory's sake. The rain has stopped but the wind is still cold and the pavement is soaked wet with puddles. You huddle close together once again.

Alex asks, "Are you cool with the whole giving birth thing?"

You laugh at him. "I don't have much of a choice. Why? Do you want to try?"

"If I could, I would."

"No, you wouldn't, but I appreciate the sentiment. Besides, it's kind of cool. A special thing that only I get to experience. I mean, the thing is growing in me, that's crazy but cool."

"Yeah, the tot is a part of you."

You hum. "I want french fries."

He smiles. "Okay. I could go for a burger."

Fast food being on every corner does have its conveniences. McDonald's is warm, separating you from the world's chill. "My mother had short labours. How long was your mother in labour for?"

"I don't know. You can ask her at dinner."

"I'm definitely getting an epidural. I don't care if it slows the process down. You know I'm in pain from just a headache. I wouldn't survive natural labour."

"Good thing for modern medicine."

"If it was the 1800s you could just give me a bunch of morphine and knock me out."

"I'll tell them to have some ready for you."

You sit in a booth that is mildly sticky but he'll ignore it if it'll ease your feet. He bought the large fries with the intention of it being shared between the two of you but instead, you take it for yourself. He enjoys his burger.

"We should have gotten a Happy Meal," you joke, dipping the fry into the ketchup pile.

He smiles because despite being freaked out 99% of the time, the 1%—the idea of doing things like this, buying a Happy Meal for his kid—outweighs it all. "Yeah, would've gotten a cool toy too."

"Well, as long as you eat your apple slices." You smile up at him and he blushes. He's been with you for so long and yet he still gets flushed under your gaze, lost in your eyes, falling in love over and over again. It's cheesy and cliche, but that doesn't make it untrue.

He steals a fry away and asks, "What should we name the tot?"

You shake your head. "No clue. Is it weird that that is what terrifies me the most?"

"No, they're going to carry it around with them for their whole life. It's the first major life decision we’ll make for them. Well, after, you know, making them."

You giggle at him with a mouthful of fries. "Yeah. If it's a boy should we name it after you?"

"God no." There doesn't need to be another Alex Turner in the world. That would make things far too confusing.

"What about for a middle name?"

"Nah, the kid is already getting my last name."

"Should we go away? Like a babymoon or whatever it's called?" You ask.

"Sure, if it's anything like our honeymoon." You went to Bora Bora. You didn't see much of Bora Bora. It was your hotel and the water pretty much of which Alex insisted on giving an equal show of things, which you'd be mildly embarrassed by if you weren't so turned on by it. Besides, you came back with no tan lines.

"Shut up," you wish upon him.

He laughs because he really is just a teenage boy who still finds sex to be funny. But it's a lovely sight to see with the crinkle by his eyes and the smile lines forming. You always like him like this. He can be moody and pensive a lot of the time. When he laughs, it feels like he fully lets go, if only for a moment.

"Where would we go?" He asks.

"A cottage in the woods or something. I don't know. I might be too pregnant to fly by the time we do it."

"You're going to be so cute with a belly."

"Please don't turn into some pregnancy fetishist, Alex," you warn him.

And, no, he won't be going up to pregnant women on the street and asking to touch their bellies but there is something inherently attractive about you being pregnant. It's probably some biological design.

"I can't help it if I want to fuck you."

"Alex!" You scold looking around the McDonald's in shame. Much wilder things have been said in places like this but you still turn red whenever he gets suggestive, especially in this vulgar way like some need has overtaken him and he needs to have you right now. Like he'll take you on the red paint-chipped table.

He chuckles and bites into his burger. So nonchalant in every way like nothing affects him. It's easy for him to be casual about these things. He's pretty sure a corner of his brain is thinking about things like that all the time. He's pretty sure he thinks of your boobs every night before bed and wakes up thinking about your ass. Again, he's pretty sure it's that inherent biological man thing.

"In a couple of months, you'll be so pumped full of hormones you'll want me to fuck you in the bathroom of this place."

You reach across the table and start smacking him but he just laughs more and more, getting a real kick of this. "Will you shut up?" Truthfully, you kind of want to go jump his bones now.

a/n: sigh, just a little something for now. trying to write more but my finals have been a bitch. but winter break is soon...

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner #alex turner smut #junedenim

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loganhowlettshousewife · 1 day ago

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lazy mornings and the proposal

animal - bonus headcanons

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

i wanted to let everyone know that even with the epilogue coming out soon and the series being officially over, i'm still not ready to let go of these two. so if you have any ideas or prompts or questions about feral!logan feel free to submit an ask!

warnings: mentions of sex, light sweat kink (oops)

series masterlist │my masterlist

there’s nothing better than a lazy morning with logan, staying in bed long past sunrise, chasing the warmth that can be found in each others arms. it’s rare, these days, now that he’s gotten a job as a lumberjack and has to be up fairly early most mornings for work, making sure to wake you before he leaves, kissing you deeply and reminding you that he loves you. gone are the days where the two of you would stay home together, locked in your own little world with no one to bother you.

he’d wanted - no, he’d needed, really- to get a job. it gave him something to do with his days, a purpose other than stalking your every move, following behind you like a shadow as you went about your day. it’s a distraction, and a welcome one, one that gives him the opportunity to be a more balanced version of himself, to find peace and trust that you aren’t going to disappear if he leaves you out of his sight for more than a few seconds.

he brings home a decent paycheck, much more than you were making by selling the extra produce from your garden. it’s unnecessary, everything you own had once belonged to your grandparents and has long been paid off, but it’s nice to have the extra cash, to be able to go into town with logan and splurge on expensive alcohol for him and gorgeous new dresses for you.

he’s good at what he does, hacking away at wood with his unnatural strength given to him by his mutation. he’s the best at what he does, to the point where you occasionally worry it’s become too obvious that he’s not like the others, but he always comes home safe.

the smell of wood and sweat cling to him like a second skin and you bury your face in his neck, understanding his obsession with doing the same to you, loving the way the smell of him surrounds you, makes you feel like he’s the only thing in the world. maybe it should be gross, he’s exerted himself all day and is covered by the proof of it, but there’s something about it that makes you melt into him every time.

he takes off his muddy shoes and picks you up, ignoring your squeal of protest at the unexpected gesture, smirks when you wrap your legs around his waist. he brings you into your bedroom to take the stress of his day out on your body or into the bathroom where you run your hands over his bare skin and wash away anything that isn’t your loving touch. either way, the tension leaves him the moment he’s returned to you, able to recognise that you’re safe.

you love the life you’ve built, the ease and comfort of it, and yet those lazy mornings, so few and far between, are still your favourite. the days where logan doesn't have to go into work and you push back your daily chores for later because you would much prefer to stay snuggled up in bed, laughing as he kisses your neck and bare shoulders, twinning your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

the night he proposes starts off like any other. he returns home from work to the smell of dinner in the oven, takes you apart under the warm stream of water from the showerhead beating down on your skin, lets you wash away the grime from his body and dig your hands into the tense muscles of his back, massaging away the day’s activities. he melts into you, letting you care for him in a way he’d never let anyone else, and you smile beatifically.

when you exit the shower, it’s to the sound of the oven timer going off, announcing that the dinner you’d prepared for the two of you is ready. you hardly notice when logan doesn’t follow you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen as usual - some days he returns from a long day on the job and refuses to leave your side, on others he needs moments of solitude peppered in to keep the overstimulation at bay.

he stops in your shared bedroom as you plate the food, giving logan double your portion size as usual.

his body requires more energy to function, his healing factor taking a lot out of him. it’s not something logan ever noticed, since he doesn’t bother to worry about his own health most of the time, but you see the way it affects him when he doesn’t eat the way he should. it’s horribly taxing on his body, making his veins protrude from his skin in harsh lines, a reminder that no matter how easy it is to ignore it when looking at his muscular and imposing stature, his body is still starving.

you’ve made it your mission to feed him, and so you narrow your eyes into a glare until he finishes his plate, leaning over afterwards to kiss the annoyance from your lips, muttering praises and thanks that have your skin tingling and face feeling hot.

he’s healthier now, a layer of fat covering his muscles, a softness to his body that wasn’t there before. it’s something you pride yourself on, the knowledge that you’re taking good care of him.

he doesn’t talk much throughout dinner, though he never does. you tell him about the latest book you’ve started reading, going back and forth on whether or not you’re truly enjoying it, complaining about the characters personalities while raving about the writing style. it makes logan smile, watching you be so passionate.

he gives you a few vague sentences about his day at work when you press him about it. “it’s not that interesting,” he says, the same excuse he gives every day. occasionally, he’ll have some gossip to share about the men he works with, his enhanced hearing allowing him to listen to their conversations without being forced to partake in them, but not today. “would much rather listen to you talk, darlin’.”

with desert in front of you and a peaceful lull in they conversation he takes your hand, kisses the back of it with his slightly chapped lips before getting down on one knee and pulling out the ring he’d bought a few weekends ago while you perused the farmer’s market stalls. it’s not big or flashy, the night is hardly out of the ordinary in any way, but it’s perfect. your eyes prick with tears that you attempt to hold back but fall anyway the moment you blink.

this is what makes yours and logan’s relationship, the understanding that there’s no need to be anything but yourselves, that as long as he’s here promising to love you forever, pleading you to do the same, there’s nothing else that could come close to matching the joy in your heart as you say yes.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

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greyyson-but-no · 3 days ago

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good looking

somehow, even when he was dead asleep, arm lolled off the edge of the bed, jess was gorgeous. the moon was shining in through the curtain that neither of you had been bothered to pull shut when you'd gotten into bed that evening. it gave him a light, a shine that cooled in skin in the summer heat, making him almost ethereal.

you couldn't sleep. the rest of the day had been so incredible, you weren't able to stop thinking about it, and as a result, you had watched him fall asleep and been unable to follow suit.

first it had been a trip to one of the many cafes in the centre of new york, breakfast on him, then a day thrifting through record shops and bookstores together, getting together a good selection of both vintage books and vinyls for the both of you. then, surprise tickets to the strokes' one-off show where you spent the evening shouting the lyrics to reptillia and hard to explain with him wrapped around you, occasional kisses pressed against your neck.

the night had ended wonderfully, as assumed.

only now, you couldn't stop thinking about it. because there he was laying, fast asleep and peaceful. not a single worry in his mind at all. earlier in the day, he'd told you this was one of the best days he'd ever had. you knew a lot about his childhood, growing up, his mum, luke, everyone. he struggled.

but he didn't struggle anymore. it was looking like his book was going to be a hit, you both shared an apartment in new york and he was able to go and see luke whenever he needed.

he stirred, grumbling. "i can feel you staring, babe."

"I'm not..." you laughed, moving a hand to thread through his hair, breathing in the hum he let out at the contact.

"liar." jess smiled sleepily, forcing his eyes open.

you pouted, brushing a thumb against his cheek. "but my pants aren't on fire?"

"you aren't wearing any." he grins, peaking a look under the thin duvet, running a hand around your waist and pulling you close, his lips resting against your neck.

humming, you snuggled into him. "and whose fault is that?"

he squeezed your waist. "guilty, what can I say? you certainly enjoyed it, there's no denying that fact, sweetheart."

"i love you."

"love you too, and. thank you."

you spun around to face him, a hand against his jaw as your eyebrows furrowed. "why are you thanking me? you planned it all, I should be thanking you."

he shook his head, looking over your face in detail. "not just for today. for everything. you saved me."

sending him a warm smile was easy. "you saved yourself, jess."

"but you standing by me made it easier." he mumbled, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "really, I mean it. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for you."

"now I know that's a lie." you laughed under your breath, not quite understanding where this whole conversation was coming from, five minutes ago he was fast asleep and now... "you started the book before you met me, you were a good way through as well."

he paused for a second, breathing in deeply. "i probably would have given up if it weren't for you, you truly saved me."

"honey." you pouted at him.

"hmm, shut up, it's 4 in the morning, of course I'm acting like this, leave me alone." he grumbled, pulling a face at you. "woke me up with your damn staring."

you shrugged, grinning at him. "what can i say? you're good looking."

he laughed lightly, sitting up a little to see you properly. "how long until we have to be up and moving?"

"luke said he'd arrive at around 10."

jess hummed, rolling onto his back and taking your hand in his, staring at the ceiling as he thought. you watched him still, as his eyebrows twitched as the look in his eyes switched between confusion and reassurance. god, he really was gorgous. "so, that means we get up at 10. you know he'll be running late."

"as always." you paused, your face lighting up. "oh! is he bringing lorelai?"

he furrowed his eyebrows. "maybe? i can't remember what the message said now. he probably will."

you smiled, letting your head rest on his chest as his arm wrapped around your shoulder, bringing the two of you as close together as possible again. even with the thin duvet cover, his skin was still warm, and sent that same warmth through to you in the summer nightly chill. "i've still got that jumped I made for her."

"sweetheart, have you ever heard of this brilliant thing called a mail service?" he joked, the corners of his lips lifting.

"wouldn't risk a jumper." you frowned, shaking your head. "especially with the stories i've heard about the stars hollow mail service from everyone."

jess smiled, remembering all his years spent there. all the people met and hated, all the people he met and loved. everyone he ever said hello to and everyone he ever said goodbye to. "you would have really liked stars hollow, i think."

you sat up a little on your elbow, finding his eyes as he looked in detail at the expression on your face. "we could always spend christmas there one year?"

"christmas is a special time there."

"sounds like it would be." you murmur. "right, we've got six hours before we have to be awake. are we going to try and go back to sleep?"

he looked over at you. "you haven't slept yet, so yes. you need the sleep. don't think I haven't noticed how tired you've been these past couple days." he leaves a swift peck on your cheek before turning you over and wrapping an arm around your waist, nose buried into your hair.

"goodnight, my love."

"g'night sweetheart." he mumbled, letting the both of you delve back to sleep. life was pretty good. jess was pretty good (looking).

#gilmore girls #jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano fluff #jess mariano fanfic #grey writes #jess mariano imagine

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blabberingabout · 7 months ago

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THE SNAIL WITHOUT THE SHELL IS ALIVE!

EVERYTHING WILL BE WELL!

#at this point i don't she will die but you never know #now i'm worried that they will not be able to wrap up all that is left in the remaining episodes #come on drama don't fail me now #queen of tears #ep 14

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dont-open-dead-inside-25 · 11 months ago

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Just remembered why I never eat. Damn

#i always feel full/have no appetite #i forgot about this because i wasn't eating enough for that so i was always hungry #but now that I'm eating a little more normally I'm back to not being able to tell the differences between full (perfectly healthy sign to st #op eating) and lack of appetite (i should still eat...#my meals are getting smaller as a coping mechanism #like when we get takeout I'll get less food so that i can eat it all without worrying about feeling gross #unintented consequence of that - I've discovered that i much prefer my burgers lettuce wrapped #i need to find a better way to eat them though. way too messy for me #it's stressful with those especially and other similar foods because i feel like i can't put it down. a literally version of having to eat i #t all in one sitting. things that are messy enough (by my standards) that once i pick them up i can't put them back down i have to eat them #puts a damper on my preferred method of grazing #i really like one pot meals... put some shit in a bowl and eat it with a spoon. that's nice #finn says shit #arfid

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gracieheartspedro · 24 days ago

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For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x afab! reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep.

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you.

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar.

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos.

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot.

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you.

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often.

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance.

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification.

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again.

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel.

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome.

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not.

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic.

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed.

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked.

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do.

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this.

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you.

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in.

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year.

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left.

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him.

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing.

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection.

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you.

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you.

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night.

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now.

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed.

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified.

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something. He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town.

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.”

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms.

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle.

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter.

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy.

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across.

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..."

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him.

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you.

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you.

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly.

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful.

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him.

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him.

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.”

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it.

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him.

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over.

“Whatever, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live.

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them.

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen.

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move.

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer.

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time.

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor.

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond.

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking.

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard.

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning.

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word.

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here.

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him.

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt.

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals.

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom.

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off.

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water.

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud.

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest.

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore.

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point?

His body was on fire, thinking about you.

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you.

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud.

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!”

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy.

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?”

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing.

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates.

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused.

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences.

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you.

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies.

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first.

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful.

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back.

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time.

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way.

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans.

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body.

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance.

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then.

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan.

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter.

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core.

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself.

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming.

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you.

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress.

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance.

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his.

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight.

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone.

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming.

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes.

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half.

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile.

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring.

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself.

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking.

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to.

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose.

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

#joel miller tlou #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #tlou au #tlou fic #tlou smut #joel miller fanfiction #fic: for cryin’ out loud #the last of us smut #gracieheartspedro

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archangeldyke-all · 17 days ago

Note

I JUST WATCHED ACT ONE AND HOLY SHIT

Do you think sevika likes biting? Like when other people do it? Because when I saw caitlyn doing it to her I could’ve sworn there was a smirk on sevikas face.

Anyway could you do like headcanons on this? If that’s okay. I love you❤️

oh i KNOW she likes biting AHAHHAAHAH

men and minors dni

really, nobody's been able to make you cum like sevika can. not even your trusty vibrator.

so, it's not surprising to you that you're always scratching up her back and leaving bite marks on her shoulders, but it is concerning.

you confront her about it early on in your relationship. both of you are naked and catching your breath in bed, sevika lazily smoking a cigarette and rubbing your back as you lay on top of her, your finger tracing the indent of your teeth on her breast.

"sevika... am i too rough with you?" you ask.

sevika chokes on her smokes, then sputters a laugh. "what're you talking about?!" she cackles.

"i'm always tearing your back up with my nails-- you've got, like scars on your shoulders now babe. and i worry that i'll draw blood one day, with my teeth or nails--"

"--okay, shut up." sevika cuts you off. you huff a bit and pinch her nipple, and sevika shivers and giggles. "baby. if you recall, i'm not exactly gentle with you, either. just fucked you like a bitch in heat, love, 'n 'm gonna have to lotion your ass from how much i was smacking it."

you suddenly feel bashful, sevika's casual discussion of the mindblowing sex you just had giving you butterflies. you bite her again, much more gently, now, right on the collarbone. "shush." you demand.

"what, you're shy now?" sevika teases. she takes a long drag off her cigarette before stubbing it out out and wrapping you up in her arms. "babe. i like it when you bite me. feels good to know i'm making you feel that good but... i also just like it. the feeling, and the bruises, 'n the way i get to show everyone you're fuckin' me... in fact, i'd like it if you did it even harder. 'n more. could probably cum in my pants from your teeth on my throat..." sevika admits, her voice trailing off and her eyes darting away from yours.

you chuckle and kiss her cheek. "who's shy now?"

sevika just smacks your ass.

so... you start biting her harder. in your time with sevika you've learned how to treat all kinds of wounds, so you aren't as hesitant as you might be to make her bleed. plus, sevika really fucking does love it.

she gets this excited little smirk going on her face when you start gnawing at her flesh, and when you finally really sink your teeth in (usually on her thighs, just a few inches away from her dripping cunt) she just melts. she whimpers and collapses against the bed and sometimes, if you're lucky, you can see her clit twitch in pleasure, despite the fact that you haven't touched her yet.

the first time she cums from it, it's an accident on your part.

you're at the last drop with her, drunk and grinding and making out sloppily in your little corner of the bar, and some woman across the room keeps eyeing her.

eventually, you pull away from her with a huff, smacking her shoulder a bit.

"w-what?" sevika asks, a little out of breath. you have to bite your lip to concentrate enough to get your words out, to resist the temptation of just kissing her again.

"d'you know her?" you ask, gesturing to the woman.

sevika quickly looks over her shoulder, a frown on her face. "w-who?"

"the bitch that's eyeing you like she's gonna be the one going home with you tonight." you growl.

a smile ticks up at the side of sevika's lips, and you scowl. "jealous, baby?"

"no. jealousy would be if you weren't mine. but you are. i'm possessive."

sevika's smile only grows, and she turns her back on her admirer to wrap her arms back around your waist. "i dunno her, love. even if i did, she'd be the last fuckin' thing on my mind tonight. first thing is your ass. second is your tongue. third and forth right here." sevika says as she squeezes your tits. you can't keep your giggles in.

"what about my teeth?" you tease.

sevika shudders, and before you know it, you're being pinned to a wall.

you groan in her mouth, wrapping one of your legs around her hips as she grinds against you. she shoves a hand under your shirt, groping your stomach and tits as you kiss.

you grab her lower lip between your teeth, and sevika freezes, hot little puffs of air hitting your face as she waits in anticipation for your next move.

you give her lip a soft nip before letting it go and ducking down to lick at her throat.

"ba-baby. please." sevika whines, her hips bucking against you in uncoordinated, sloppy little thrusts.

fuck. fuck. you don't have any real reason to worry, not when sevika's begging for your teeth in her throat. it's so hot it makes you dizzy, and you lose yourself for just a second as you clamp your teeth down into her flesh, hard.

sevika stiffens, squeaks, and then starts to shiver, her body collapsing against you and pinning you to the wall. you wrap your arms around her waist, groaning into her skin as she shivers against you.

"f-fuck!" sevika shouts. you pull away from her throat, blood and spit connecting your lips to her skin as you nuzzle her cheek. "fuck. fuck, i love you." sevika sighs.

you giggle, kissing her scars. "i love you, too, baby. can't believe you just came in your fuckin' pants for me."

sevika chuckles. "'s hot watching you get jealous, or possessive, or whatever." she says with a shrug. "'n i really fuckin' like your teeth."

you gently nip her cheek, then press your bloody lips to hers.

sevika moans at the taste.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika imagine #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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idkyetxoxo · 3 months ago

Text

Aemond Targaryen - Embracing the Unexpected

Summary - Aemond and his wife navigate the fear, love, and uncertainty of new parenthood, discovering that the joy of new life is irresistible, even when it arrives as an unexpected set of multiple babies.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Childbirth (brief)

Word count - 2482

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

"You startled me," I gasped, my voice trembling as I felt a pair of hands trail softly across my bare shoulders. My heart raced, pounding in my chest, as I clung desperately to the discarded fabric of my gown.

"It's only me," Aemond murmured, his voice low and soothing. He pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of my neck, his hands gliding along my sides.

I drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm myself. With a subtle wriggle, I slipped out of his embrace and stepped away, wrapping the nightgown more securely around myself before turning to face him.

His expression was a mixture of concern and sadness.

"What's the matter?" he asked softly as I made my way to the bed. I sat down, crossing my legs and began to braid my hair with methodical movements.

"Nothing," I replied, barely above a whisper. Aemond sat beside me, his fingers gently untangling the strands of my hair as he watched me with a worried gaze.

"Then why have you been keeping me at a distance these past few weeks?" he asked, his lips brushing against the side of my neck.

I gripped the sheets tightly, my face averted as the flush of distress spread from my cheeks to the tips of my ears.

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine with a pained expression.

"Am I repulsing you?" he asked, his voice thick with hurt. Before I could respond, he continued, "Do you no longer want me?"

I shook my head quickly, my heart aching at the thought of causing him such pain. I moved closer to him, desperate to reassure him.

"No, it's not that at all. I promise," I said, my voice earnest. I could see the hurt in his eyes, and it made me feel even more unsettled.

"Aemond, it's just..." I started, the words tangling in my throat as I struggled to articulate my feelings. My mind raced, the weight of the truth pressing down on me until I couldn't hold it back any longer.

"I'm with child," I blurted out, the confession leaving my lips before I could second-guess it.

His reaction was instant. His head snapped towards me, eye wide with shock.

For a moment, his face lit up with joy, but as he registered my anxiety, that joy dimmed. The light in his expression faded, and he slowly stood from the bed, turning away from me as if to shield himself from what he feared might come next.

"Wait," I cried out, desperation seizing my heart as tears welled up in my eyes. The mere thought of him walking away from me, from us, was unbearable. "Please, don't leave."

His back remained turned, but his voice was sharp, carrying the weight of his wounded pride.

"Does the thought of having a child with me cause such distress?" he asked, his words laced with bitterness. I shook my head, realizing too late that he couldn't see my silent denial.

"No, no, Aemond, it's not like that at all," I pleaded, my voice cracking under the strain of my emotions. "I'm just... afraid."

Finally, he turned around to face me, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Why are you afraid?" he asked, his voice softer now, though it was clear he was struggling to understand.

"I'm afraid that I won't be enough," I whispered, my deepest fears spilling out into the open.

"That I'll fail you, that I'll fail our child. I'm terrified of what's to come, of not knowing how to be a mother, of not being able to protect our child from the dangers of this world and most of all, I'm afraid that you'll see me differently now, that I'll lose you in ways I can't even fathom."

Aemond's expression softened, and he took a step closer to me, reaching out to cup my face in his hands.

"You're not going to lose me," he said, his voice steady and full of conviction. "We'll face this together, whatever comes. You're not alone in this, and I will be by your side every step of the way. We'll figure it out, I promise you."

Tears spilt over, and I leaned into his touch, finding comfort in the warmth of his hands. His words were a balm to my anxious heart, but the fear still lingered, a shadow that would take time to fully dispel.

Eight months later, I found myself pacing the chamber, one hand pressed against my back, the other cradling my swollen belly.

Each step was a struggle, my breaths coming in short, laboured gasps as the pain in my abdomen grew more intense. Every contraction felt like a wave crashing over me, leaving me trembling and weak.

I groaned, my forehead resting heavily against the bedpost as another contraction tore through me. My hair was matted to my forehead, damp with sweat, and my body ached under the immense strain.

It felt as though I might burst from the pressure, the sheer force of it overwhelming me.

"Where is Aemond? Where is he?" I gasped, my voice tinged with desperation as I scanned the room.

Faces blurred around me, the maids and midwives moving quickly, but none of them were the ones I needed to see.

"The father's presence is not customary during the birth," the maester explained calmly, though his words were drowned out by the scream that erupted from my lips.

The pain was unbearable, and the thought of going through this without Aemond made it worse.

"I want Aemond!" I cried out, pushing away the handmaidens who were attempting to soothe me. Their gentle hands and soft words were of no comfort, only he could provide that.

As if summoned by my plea, the door to the chamber burst open, and Aemond rushed in, his face pale with worry. Without a moment's hesitation, he ran to my side, his arms encircling me in a protective embrace.

"Aemond, please, stay with me. I can't do this alone," I sobbed, clutching at him as if he were my lifeline.

"My prince," the maester began, his voice tinged with disapproval, "it is not customary for the father to be present—"

"I do not care what is customary," Aemond snapped, his voice steely with resolve. "If my wife wants me to stay, I will stay."

He guided me toward the bed, his hands gentle but firm as he helped me lie down. Another scream tore from my throat, the pain intensifying as my body prepared for the final stage of labour.

Aemond held my hand tightly, his presence grounding me amid the chaos.

"You're doing so well," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple as he tried to soothe me. "I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere."

Each contraction came with a force that seemed to split me in two. Time lost all meaning as I focused solely on Aemond's steady presence.

The pain was blinding, but knowing he was there kept me from being completely consumed by it.

Minutes stretched into hours, each moment a battle as my body worked tirelessly to bring our child or so we thought into the world. Aemond never wavered, his hands steady on mine, his words a constant source of comfort.

When I felt I could push no more, when I was certain I had nothing left to give, his voice would pull me back, reminding me that I was not alone.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the maester's voice broke through the haze of pain.

"The babe is crowning," he announced, and I gasped, the realization that the end was near bringing a rush of determination.

"Just a little more," Aemond whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're almost there."

With a final, desperate push, I felt a release, and the sound of a baby's cry filled the room. Tears welled up in my eyes as I collapsed against the pillows, utterly exhausted but relieved beyond measure.

"It's a boy," the maester announced, placing the squirming, crying infant in Aemond's arms. His face was a mixture of awe and disbelief as he looked down at our son, and then back at me.

"You did it," he whispered, his voice filled with pride.

Before I could respond, another contraction hit, more intense than before. My eyes widened in shock, and I looked at Aemond, fear creeping back into my heart.

"There's another one," I gasped, my hand gripping his with renewed urgency.

The maester's expression shifted from concern to realization. "There's another babe," he confirmed, moving quickly to assist with the unexpected second birth.

Aemond's eyes were wide with shock, but he quickly regained his composure, focusing entirely on me.

"You can do this," he said, his voice steady. "I'm right here with you."

The second labour was just as intense, but somehow, knowing what to expect made it more bearable. Aemond's hand never left mine, his voice guiding me through each agonizing contraction. After what felt like an eternity, a second cry filled the room.

"It's another boy," the maester said, handing the newborn to a waiting handmaiden to clean and wrap.

Aemond's eye was shining with tears as he looked between our two sons.

Before I could catch my breath, a sharp pain tore through me once more, I felt as though my body was being torn apart.. My heart raced, panic rising as I realized there was yet another child.

The maester's expression turned serious as he realized the truth. "Triplets," he said, a mix of amazement and concern in his voice. "This will be the last one."

Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me, but Aemond's presence kept me from sinking into despair.

"You're almost there," he whispered, his voice strained with emotion. "Just one more, love. You can do this."

With every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed through the final wave of pain. The third birth was the hardest, with my body protesting the entire way, but finally, mercifully, it was over.

The last cry filled the room, softer and more delicate than the others.

"It's a girl," the maester announced, his tone gentler now, as he carefully swaddled our daughter.

Aemond was speechless, his eye wide with disbelief and joy as he looked at the three tiny bundles in the hands of the midwives. "Three..." he whispered as if he couldn't quite believe it. "We have three."

I collapsed back onto the pillows, utterly spent but filled with a profound sense of love and accomplishment. Tears streamed down my face as Aemond placed our daughter in my arms, her tiny features perfect and serene.

He sat beside me, holding our two sons, his expression one of utter devotion. "You did it," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You brought them into the world."

Despite the exhaustion, despite the pain, nothing could overshadow the overwhelming joy of that moment.

A couple of hours passed in a haze of exhaustion and bliss. The room, once filled with the frantic energy of childbirth, had quieted into a peaceful sanctuary.

The three tiny bundles nestled in our arms were the centre of our world, their soft breaths and occasional whimpers the only sounds breaking the stillness.

Aemond sat beside me on the bed, cradling our two sons, while our daughter rested against my chest. I marvelled at their delicate features, the softness of their skin, and the way they seemed to fit perfectly into our arms.

It was overwhelming to think that just hours ago, they had been growing inside me, and now they were here each a tiny miracle.

The door creaked open, and I looked up to see Alicent entering the chamber. Her face, usually so composed and regal, softened as she took in the sight before her.

Her eyes shone with a mixture of pride and love as she approached the bed, her steps careful and measured.

"Aemond," she greeted her son, her voice warm with affection. "And how are you, my dear?" she asked, turning to me with a smile that reached her eyes.

"Tired, but happy," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, still feeling the lingering exhaustion from the ordeal.

Alicent's gaze shifted to the three babes, her expression one of awe. She reached out to gently stroke the cheek of our daughter, her fingers tender and light.

"They're beautiful," she said softly, her voice filled with admiration. "Three little blessings. I don't think I've ever seen anything so perfect."

I smiled, my heart swelling with pride and joy.

"They are," I agreed, my voice catching in my throat as I looked down at our daughter. The love I felt for them was overwhelming, almost too much to contain.

Alicent moved her gaze to the two boys in Aemond's arms, her smile deepening as she reached out to touch their tiny hands.

"Have you decided on names?" she asked, her tone gentle as she looked between us.

Aemond and I exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between us. We had spent countless nights talking about names, but now that they were here, the decision felt weightier, more significant.

Finally, Aemond spoke, his voice soft yet steady. "We have," he said, his eyes meeting his mother's. "Our daughter will be named Viserra,"

Alicent's eyes softened further, her smile widening. "Viserra," she repeated, the name rolling off her tongue with reverence. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"And our sons," I added, my voice trembling with emotion, "will be named Vaegon and Viserion."

Alicent's eyes flickered with recognition, and she nodded approvingly. "Vaegon and Viserion," she echoed, her voice filled with pride. "Strong names for strong boys. They will carry them well."

She looked between us, her expression one of deep affection and pride. "You have chosen well," she said, her voice filled with warmth.

Alicent leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"I am so proud of you both," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You have brought such light into this world, and I know you will be wonderful parents."

She stepped back, giving us a moment of privacy, her eyes lingering on the three tiny babes who had already stolen all our hearts.

"Rest now," she said, her voice tender. "You have earned it and when you're ready, we will celebrate these new additions to our family."

As she left the room, the warmth of her presence lingered, filling the chamber with a sense of peace and fulfilment. Aemond looked at me, his face filled with love and gratitude.

"Viserra, Vaegon, and Viserion," he repeated softly as if the names were a prayer, a promise for the future.

I nodded, smiling through my tears as I looked down at our children. "They're perfect," I whispered, my heart swelling with love for the tiny lives we had brought into the world.

Aemond leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, his hand resting gently on our daughter's back.

As we sat there, surrounded by the quiet strength of our love and the promise of our future, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together.

A/n - I swear thinking of the names took longer than writing the whole thing literally had to hop onto reddit.

Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #team green #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond

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hoshigray · 10 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining + confessions - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - going on a date - sex in a public space; hotel room - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (sucking and swiping) - missionary position - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up + Gojo doesn't shoot inside) - pet names (baby, cutie pretty, princess, sweetie) - angst + fluff - cameos: Shoko, Mei Mei, Utahime, Geto, Nanami - mentions of tears and spit - humor bc I'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k (going out with a bang, jfc)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: final part to this short yet fun story !! tysm for the love you've given this series, it was a random idea that came to me last year and I'm so glad I was able to put more thought into it. all y'all's comments and rbs have been entertaining to read thru, love the support and engagement this story sparked with you, and I thank you sm for sticking around ccc: also!!! ty for 5.9k loveliessss mwah mwah~

and lol, yes, the title is based on the laufey song, hehe~

prev story » ❤︎

“Sorry, Satoru, Y/n doesn’t wanna see you right now — like, at all.”

“Oh, Gojo. Sorry, Y/n’s in no mood to talk to you right now. Said you better not make so much as a step past this door. Because if you do, I’ll have to charge your savings.”

“Hmph, you got some nerve, Gojo! Didn’t you hear from Mei Mei earlier? Y/n doesn't wanna talk to you…What the hell did you do this time?��

You could hear your roommates telling off the person showing up at the front door from your door. Before, they’d come to you and ask if you wish to give this person an audience for your presence. Yet you say the same thing: you’re not ready to converse with them. You’ll probably never want to talk with them again.

It’s been like this for the past week. Ever since the little fiasco between you and Gojo — not to mention you slapping him across the face for his upsetting words — things between the two of you have been quiet as promised. The very last words you ever told him were to never speak to you again after publicly humiliating yourself by crying in front of him.

Outside of being the talk in everyone’s mouth (I mean, who wouldn’t gossip about one person slapping another after walking into them saying some mean shit about the other), you’ve been worried about by your friends ever since the incident. Your direct senior roommate, Utahime, was the first one to see you crying to yourself after coming home from classes and immediately called up Gojo to rip him a new one for making her junior roomie cry. Shoko was the passive one who listened to both sides yet still put your emotional state above anything else, telling Gojo white lies that you weren’t in your dorm room whenever he’d try to visit. And Mei Mei walked with you to your classes throughout the week in case the tall figure tried looking for you.

But it didn’t stop there. After that day, your Contemporary Issues course with Professor Naga was sheer awkwardness. The silent tension between you and Gojo was so thick that it effortlessly suffocated your peers and made it hard to concentrate — especially for the professor and your friends, Ijichi and Haibara. Outside of the class, you did your part in avoiding Gojo, and the same applies to the lectures you shared with him. No words, no greeting – not even a mere glance – were shared in his direction. It was as if your life mission was to avoid him at all costs.

However, this is Satoru Gojo we’re talking about. Although he respected your no-talking rule in the premise of lectures, he’d still try to get your attention once class was over. And even then, you’d bolt to the door to not give him the chance. He’d follow right behind you and have to maintain a respectable distance when Mei Mei was the light lavender eyes behind your back.

But what the hell did he expect? What he said hurt you to your core, so there was no way you’d want to speak with him again. He deserved that slap! The sting you inflicted on his face for a few minutes was nothing compared to the torment of your heart that’s been aching for a long while now. You can’t even look at Gojo after what had transpired. The pain he caused has been with you for a while, yet it still felt new and fresh to reflect on.

And yet…your mind still can’t help but agonize you even more. Do you think it was easy to not engage with Gojo this entire time? Oh, it was the worst, both for your soul and mind. The memories of his smile and dimples would come up every often, pooling you deeper into your dread. The routine of him speaking to you with whispers when it was just the two of you — like he didn’t want others to find you in the comfort of each other’s presence — like it was sacred. And the way he said your name. It toyed with your heart whenever you’d reminisce it.

“Y/n!”

Especially after how much has changed in your relationship with him, you really thought things between you and him were going for the better. Or, to be honest, becoming something a lot closer and personal. Something you grew to want with him as the days’ encounters and nightly calls went by.

“Y/n...”

But you were wrong, lecturing yourself for being so dumb and naive for wanting such a thing. Amid the fun, you had forgotten what you two were and believed that you could change from that. Change with him. And yet here you are, broken-hearted, barely concentrating on your Word document on your laptop.

“Hey, Y/n,” your brow twitched with the snap of reality, Utahime opening the door after knocking. “It’s the front door again; it’s—“

“GRRRAAAHHHHHHHHH!!”

You were never one to shout within your apartment — Utahime’s eyes widened at the sudden shout of vexation. You stood up from your desk and walked past her, marching through the hallway. Mei Mei peeks from her shared room, and Shoko pours coffee in the kitchen. All three of your roommates observe you stomping to the door.

You swung the apartment door open with vigor, “I SWEAR TO CHRIST, GOJO, WHAT PART OF ‘DON’T EVER TALK TO ME’ DO YOU NOT UNDERST—…Geto?”

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. I was worried about you.” You were surprised to open the door and not find the unusual silver hair you expected. Instead, it was Suguru Geto, Gojo’s dark-haired direct roommate, rubbing his cold hands together that weren’t covered with his black windbreaker. Next to him was Kento Nanami, standing silently in his sand-colored trench coat.

“Hey, guys,” knowing they aren’t who you thought it would be, your shoulders relaxed with your tone. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Geto sighs heavily before telling anything. “We wouldn’t be here for a reason. And, after hearing what happened between you and you-know-who, I think you can guess why we're here, too.”

And then it hits — the realization of how these two’s abrupt appearance came to be. “…He asked you two to come and talk to me for him.”

The two roommates look at each other for a second, and then Geto points behind him with his thumb to the stairwell door. You follow his finger, seeing the person you’re talking about watching you from the door window. You try not to contort your face into an ugly, exasperated expression in front of the other boys. So, you settle for a sigh to alleviate the stress growing inside you.

“Ugh. What is it.” You ask Geto with an attitude that wasn’t easily sheathed.

“Honestly, all I know is that he really – like, really – wants to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to him. So there,” you shake your head and backtrack past the threshold of your door. “Sorry you two came here for no reason, but I can’t—“

“—Wait!” Geto cuts you off and brings a hand on the door to stop you from closing it. You caught the intervention, widening the door again. Geto explains himself. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you—well, no, sorry. I get that Satoru said some things that hurt you last week. Believe me: I already lectured him hell and back for it when Shoko told me you came home crying, and you have every right to be mad at him right now…But—“

“Did he tell you what he said to me?”

“H—No, he didn’t,” your brow quirked at that response. He didn’t? “All he told me when I confronted him was that he messed up real bad and crossed a line.”

“A line?” You enunciated after him. “That’s cute...Geto, he won’t tell you what he said because I caught him saying those things. That scumbag,” you averted your gaze to the door window, seeing Gojo gulp at your fierce eyes. “—knows what he said. And he knows that I told him I want nothing to do with him for that.”

Nanami was quiet throughout the entire thing, so it took you aback when he spoke. “And I’m on your side in that regard. You’re right, he is a scumbag; tactless, crude, borderline annoying—“

“Just borderline?” Geto points the word out to lighten the mood.

“And the type of person to get on someone’s nerves purposely. And with that, I don’t blame you for cutting him off. If anything, it’s what he deserves, if not more.”

You knew there was more to say beyond that. “And yet…"

“And yet,” Nanami picks it up. “…I’d be lying if I said that guy doesn’t know when he’s at fault. He can be prideful and childishly playful — albeit disrespectful to anyone he thinks doesn’t deserve it. However, he’s not emotionless, and if he is disrespectful to his friends, he knows when he’s in the wrong.“

“And take it from me, Y/n.” Geto comes in with the assist now that things are a bit calm. “Fucking asshat will take days to apologize to me for something stupid, and that’s if he feels like giving me one. But even if he doesn’t, I know he cares about me like any best friend…Like he cares about you.”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes, so you close them and shake your head. “He doesn’t care—“

“Yes, he does.” Nanami doesn’t let you finish that sentence. “Like I said: Gojo is many things, but he’s not an emotionless moron. Because I can tell that whatever he said distraught you to your core and made him feel bad about it — pathetically so.”

“…How do you know?” You don’t know why you asked that question; why the fuck should you care? The fucker in question is the one that broke your heart behind your back, so why bother?

“Because when he came home that day, Geto pulled him by the shirt, threw him against the wall, and yelled at him like no tomorrow. And he just stood there, letting Geto give him his rightful lashing. He even told him he didn’t deserve you as a friend, which I agreed with. But then Gojo said something after that…”

Again, this isn’t something you should be caring about. So why are you turning to Geto to ask, “…What did he say?”

“He said I was right, that he definitely didn’t deserve you.” Before the raven-haired boy answered, he exhaled through his nostrils. “And that what he said about you was, by far, the dumbest thing he’s ever done, which is saying a lot.”

“A whole lot.” The blond-haired boy jumped in. “Y/n, don’t take this as me vouching for him. But, if you could have seen the look on his face when he said that,” he nods when you shake your head ‘no’ again. “You would feel the guilt and shame pouring from him. It was pathetic to look at — pathetic for him to express. But it was real.”

And you know it’s the truth — not because it came from Nanami, but because you could picture the scene as if you were there. You could just imagine Gojo’s face, a dangerous move as your heart skipped with a twinge. You imagine the emotions he was expressing, your skin crawling thinking about his blue eyes – usually filled with life and light – appearing so broken and devoid of animation.

“He does care about you — there’s no mistake about it. You two have been friends since freshmen year; he’d be an idiot to let those years go down the drain because of him. And that’s why we went along with coming here in his stead and asking you to talk to him.” You open your mouth, but Geto isn’t finished. “Please, Y/n. You’re the mature one, but you don’t have to act strong on this one. I can only assume, of course, but I’m sure you want this handled, too.”

He wasn’t wrong, yet at the same time, you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that was weighing you down.

“I…I don’t want to speak with him.” The two guys didn’t change their facial expressions. “Not now, at least...I don’t want to see his face right now.”

“Then how about a phone call later tonight?” Nanami proposed. “You two can talk it out with each other after you guys think about what to say to each other. You can even have the call while we’re sleeping so you can have privacy.”

“Ehhh, but I’m nosy.” Geto teases his sophomore roommate, making the younger blonde huff.

“Not tonight, you are. Plus, you got a project to present tomorrow, so you need sleep.”

“Fair, fair…But seriously, Y/n, you should talk with him. If not for him, then for us, for Shoko, Utahime, Mei Mei, all of us. We don’t want you upset about what this idiot did this time. So, one talk should be okay, right?”

It should be okay. Keyword: should. However, the anxiety that you harbor within your limbs tells you otherwise. The pool in your stomach churning into a state you find uncomfortable to fight against.

But concurrently, you couldn’t lie to yourself; a piece was missing in all of this. The resolution was needed — there had to be a way to see the entire picture in this matter. Otherwise, you’d be walking around campus mad at the person behind a door examining your reactions for the entire semester — no, the whole next year! You knew you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that. You can barely go through it right now. So, might as well get this off the table before it worsens…At least, that’s what you say to rationalize.

“…Okay,” you straightened your posture. “The girls have morning classes tomorrow. Tell him to call me at midnight.”

Your answer sealed the deal, the two males dismissing themselves before you closed the apartment door. Your roommates peered around the corner once they heard the door lock, coming to ask if you were all right. You molded a faux smile and said you were fine, and yet you couldn’t tell if that was a lie to them or yourself.

From there, the time felt so long to witness and experience throughout the day, watching one hour pass after the other. The sun had never settled under the horizon so slowly before, taking its time to draw the curtains of darkness over the Earth. And yet the time went fast simultaneously — the minutes spooked you every time you looked at the clock.

Was this the universe’s way of toying with you for agreeing to talk to Satoru Gojo? It had to be. Your stomach doing somersaults didn’t help either; you could barely get through eating dinner because the dreaded talk bound to happen in a few hours was all your mind could think about.

And then, when everyone was fast asleep ten minutes before midnight, your nerves couldn’t settle down. Five minutes before, you decided to take yourself and the phone to the bathroom (because the fan would be loud enough to tune out your conversation), needing the tiny space to yourself to pace back and forth and not to disturb Utahime snoring away. One minute before, you were sitting on top of the toilet, watching the seconds go by on your phone, praying that he wouldn’t call on the dot. He wouldn’t buzz you at the immediate stroke of twelve, right? He had to be doing something — anything else — hoping he’d spare you another minute if he could.

BZZZR!! BZZZR!!

However, that wasn’t the case. He called you right on the dot, and your heart jumped at the vibration from your phone. His display name was titled ‘do not answer this jerk,’ a change you made the day after the incident. Yet here you are, in the bathroom, and your thumb shaking over the green button.

It wasn’t until the sixth vibration that you pressed the button with a sharp inhale, bringing the phone to your ear with haste. The silence was in the air for a couple of seconds, worsening your anxiousness. Until—

“…Hey.” He was the first to say something, thank God.

“Hi…..Where are you?”

“Outside my apartment, sitting on the stairwell...You?”

“In the bathroom.”

“You sitting on the toilet?”

You know what he was doing, making the conversation easier before getting to the hard stuff. Nonetheless, you admit it was working while your nervous state gradually deteriorated. “…And what if I am?”

“Then I’d say….Heh, actually, no. I can’t make that joke right now. Not when we’re like this.”

“Mmm, like this…” You hummed, the awkward tension filling the silence once again. “….Look, Gojo—“

“Before you say anything,” he cut you off, but you allowed it. “I have a lot I wanna say to you, and I want to get them out the way before I forget and never get the chance to say them to you…Can I say them?”

Your brows scrunched together, your free hand drawing reassuring circles on your thigh, and your teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. “…Go ahead.”

“Okay…So, first off,” you held your breath to brace yourself. “What I said about you on that day — I’m not gonna sit here and say I didn’t mean those things when I said them because I did. But NOT in the way you’re thinking.”

“Then what way did you mean them, Gojo?”

“I meant them in the implication that I was trying to protect what you and I had.” Had? “Our relationship was being questioned, some girl was asking about us and…I know you weren’t ready to have our business out in the world yet, so I thought….I just said what was believable with how everyone sees us since we’re always butting heads and shit. So, I said and meant those things to protect us in the heat of the moment. And then…I guess I got carried away.”

“You guess you got carried away?” You repeated, your anxiousness now substituting for subtle anger. “…Just a little person angry at the world around them? So exhausting to deal with someone so boring and uncute as me?”

“Holy fuck, you remember it all—“

“Of course I did!” How could you not!? “And then — hmph, now this one I’ll never forget — ‘I’ve seen prettier, been with better, I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them’…” Your emotions were a mix of offense and pain, irritation and misery. Despite that, your voice maintained a calm tone, even if you wanted to do nothing but yell at the screen. Yet that wouldn’t solve this. “Gojo, the fact that I know all of that, verbatim, and have refused to talk, think, touch, or even look at you since them…To say you got carried away is just…like, holy fuck. Who the hell were you?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, but you couldn’t blame him. Being hit with his own words like that, any moral human being would stop and let that shit simmer into their skin.

“…I’m sorry,” you wanted to call bullshit so bad, but not after he followed up with this. “Really. I’m so…so fucking sorry, Y/n. I know that shit wasn’t cool, and, to be honest, I expected more than one slap for that. I only meant it to save you the burden of gossip; believe me when I say that.”

“I—ahem…” Nope, you were not going to do this. Not tonight. “I want to believe you, Gojo. But I just…I can’t; it hurts my head thinking about it.”

“I know…I did that to you, and I’m so fucking sorry. My foot was too far up my mouth when I said all that, just one useless thing after another….And you know what’s crazy? I think my conscience knew me spouting shit wasn’t the right call. I mean, I literally walked with you to the class that day; what kind of friend does that and say shit like that afterward? And when I saw you….the way you looked so…distant? Just like that, everything that we had was just gone. I couldn’t see it — I saw absolutely nothing when I saw you. That scared me, seeing the happiness and the smile you had minutes ago just vanish with the flip of a switch. And I fucking did that. I knew at that moment that I lost you…..Y/n…? Are you crying?”

You immediately moved the phone away from your ear, covering your mouth with the arm of your sweatshirt. The cries you tried to suppress poured out at that moment, and the pain that scratched your insides left your system with every sob and intake of breath. The tears damped the material, soaking them in as they rolled down your cheeks.

As ways to start the eve of your Monday, crying with the person who broke your heart on the phone was not one you expected to be one of them. It all hurt: the rapid emotions, the memories of that day replaying in your head, the genuine sincerity expressed in his voice. It was all too fucking much, your face heating up to a concerning level that you’d think you’d blow up.

You give yourself a few seconds before bringing the phone to your ear, “….What else?”

“Huh?”

“You said—sniff—that you had other things you wanted to say to me.” A change of subject was necessary, not wanting him to notice the broken crack of your voice. “So, what else?”

The request took him aback, but he knew better than to question or fight you. “…Second of all, I wanna say – since I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance to tell them to you in person – I want you to know that you’re more than what I said. There’s nothing 'kinda' pretty about you — you’re pretty all over. I’m not saying that to butter you up; it’s something I’ve said to myself all this time…Who am I kidding, saying I’ve been with prettier and better when I hurt the most beautiful and kindest one my eyes ever laid on….? Boring and uncute? Heh, you’re anything but. Sure, I say you're uncute when you nag at me to no end, but I don’t think there’s been a single day that I’ve thought you were a sore for my eyes. You’re too gorgeous for that.”

“Gojo—“

“I don’t deserve you as a friend, Y/n.” Your breath hitched. “Honest. I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now. And yet, you gracing me with time to spare shows that I really don’t have the right to have you close to me…I’m sorry.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was honest about his apology. You felt it in your bones; your gut told you what Gojo told you was true. Your anger was nowhere to be found, but your guard was still up.

You slowly exhale through your mouth before taking your turn in the conversation. “So…Is that all?”

“….”

“…Gojo?”

“….”

“Gojo? Are you still—“

“I like you.”

Okay, you lied; your guard wasn't up for that.

There’s no way he just said that. There’s no way those three exact words left his mouth and entered your eardrums. They kept ringing throughout your head, bouncing off the walls of your cranium with each repeated syllable. Your eyes widened by the second, your body coming to a complete standstill. And yet, the only thing that was moving and showed signs of life was your heartbeat increasing with the silence.

He likes you. The Gojo Satoru — your frenemy, annoying peer, and friend who enjoys your yelling and nagging — likes you.

“You…You what?” You heard him perfectly, but you wanted to confirm this wasn’t some joke.

“I like you.” He didn’t hesitate to replicate. “I do, I really do. I’ve liked you for….quite a long while, way before we started having sex together.”

“How long ago is that?”

“I think since the spring semester of freshman year when we had started to get a little closer before you became friends with Geto...Yeah, for a while now.”

“…Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you like me?

You heard him sigh out a large breath before answering. “…To be honest, I just like how you…are you. Like, you’re not scared to be yourself around me. Many people I’ve known try to kiss my ass for me to call them a friend, and even then, those guys are assholes…But you, I don’t see that — I never saw that. You’d never kiss my ass; you’d always be down to tell me when I’m wrong or right. Being around you was different from other people; I felt comfortable around you like you were one of my friends.”

You didn’t intervene, listening to every word he was to say.

“Not to mention…Heh, you’re so cute. Like, actually. And pretty, and independent, and bright. I can’t count how many times I’ve been lost in my thoughts about you. Especially recently, you’re all that I can think about. I like how it feels to hold your hand, and your fingers look small against mine. I could never get enough of you talking to you; it’s one of the things I look forward to. And, holy fuck, the way you smile. I swear, you could kill me with that face of yours. And your eyes — I’m always told mine are so beautiful to look at, yet I find that impossible whenever I get stuck when you look at me….Y/n? Are you—You’re not crying, are you?”

You said in sniffles. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Gojo…”

“Huh!? Why??”

“You break my heart one day and then say all these things the next…Are you trying to tell me that stunt you pulled is that dumb thing where people say stupid shit about someone else because they like them?”

“Hey, I told you why I said them! Besides, those two bimbos were getting in our personal life, and we didn’t have anything to call our relationship, so…!”

“Sniff—And you! Why didn’t you tell me you liked me for so long instead of annoying me to no end?”

“I could’ve done that, but…I don’t know. I guess our relationship was easier the way we had it. Things were less complicated for you. Plus, you’re cute when you’re angry at me.”You had to scoff at that. Of course, he’d say something like that. He can be such a prick sometimes. “I was okay with how things were, being all naggy and arguing with you while secretly close to you. I didn’t want to change something we were used to into something more.”

“Mmm.” You could only hum to that sentence, letting his words sink in before saying anything. “…Would it have been a bad thing if it was something more?”

He didn’t answer immediately, indicating that he took the question in serious thought. “No…I wouldn’t have minded. But that decision was all yours to make.”

“Gojo,” The words you were about to say were about to be so nerve-wracking that you had to take in a deep breath. Chewing on your lips while exhaling through an open mouth. “….Would it be a bad thing if I said….that I liked you, too? And that…I still like you—”

KA-BANG-BANG!!

You jumped at the sudden sound coming from the other side of the line, as it was not the response you were expecting, and you could hear him saying curses further from the phone. After a few brief seconds, Gojo’s voice comes back.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry! I just dropped my phone on the stairs!” He sounded so worried, as if he lost you. “You.…You like me?”

“Yeah, I do…” Gosh, you didn’t think this would happen, the heat on your cheeks expanding to your ears and neck. “I really do. And I’m also willing to forgive you. BUT, you have to prove your worth by redeeming—“

“I WILL!” Again, it wasn’t the reaction you were expecting! He replied with such momentous excitement that you could imagine the sparkle in his blue eyes. “I will, I promise! In fact, I have an idea; how about I take you out on a date?”

Huh!? “A date??”

“Yeah, on Valentine’s Day, this Wednesday! I know this great place not too far from here, or maybe you wanna go to a small café to wind down from classes? You can pick—”

“Wait, wait! We have classes that day; we have our night class with Professor Yaga—“

“We could skip—“

“Hell. No.” You shut him down with quickness. “We’re going over some serious discussions that day for our papers on Friday; we’re just gonna have to do the date after class.”

“Pfft, God, you can be such a geek sometimes.”

For the first time that night, you rolled your eyes. “Says the Digimon-fanatic talking to me right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He snickers at the phone, and your heart swoons at it. It felt like you hadn’t heard that laugh in ages. “So…Is that a yes?”

It had you thinking for a temporary moment; talking with Gojo again just felt so…familiar. It was something you’d been missing for the past week, accepting that you’d never experience it again. And here he is, inviting you on a date? This was, by all means, a weird night. An apology, a confession, and now being asked out?

Regardless, you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to be by his side again. And with a chance like this, why brush it off? “Yes, I accept your date.”

“Then it’s a Valentine’s date. Cool.”

“Cool.” You awkwardly repeated after him, becoming squeamish with the brief silence. “Okay, well, now that we talked. I need to get some sleep.”

“Mmm, okay. Go get your sleep, then. Be sure to think of me in your dreams~”

Your head is shaken again, this time with a smile. “Whatever. I’ll try…Think of me too, Satoru.”

“I always do, Y/n.” Jesus, the way he gently and affectionately said your name. Is this what it’s like to admit you like someone? “Good night.”

“Good night…Oh, wait! You said you had a joke earlier.”

“Hmm…Oh, yeah?”

“Well, now that we’re kinda on good terms…What was the joke?”

“Oh! I was gonna say it’s kinda a shame that you’re sitting on a toilet and not on my face.”

“Goodbye, Gojo.”

“PFFFT, No, wait, I’m so—“

CLICK!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As far as dates go about, this is one that Satoru Gojo was the most nervous about.

As promised, after your class with Professor Naga ended, Gojo waited for you with his car on Main Street by your dormitory. He was already dressed for the date, adorned with a black turtleneck and jeans that matched his Chesterfield coat. But you had a few things you wanted to touch up on before going out for the night, so he texted back that he’d wait for you outside.

What he didn’t expect was being instantly shot down by you once you came down and walked to his car. Because holy fucking shit, you looked so fucking beautiful. If this was a “touch-up,” all the people he went on dates on must’ve not been trying.

You were wearing a black halter long-sleeve top; your collarbone and shoulders were out for his eyes to trace and breathe to hitch. Your arms were shielded by a hoodie that looked a bit big for you but did its job of protecting you from the cold winds. And black thigh socks that contrasted with the plaid skirt and the puffy boots. And…did you put on lipgloss on? Holy shit.

“So,” you’d say meekly to catch his attention since he’s examining your every feature. “I’m ready…” They were simple words, yet they had the power to have him stop leaning on the car and grab the door for you. You were chewing on your lip, avoiding his gaze that watched every step you took. “You’re staring, Satoru…”

“Hmm? Oh! Sorry...” He’d close your door and mutter, scratching his neck where the heat from his ears crawled around.

And from there, the date began. The plan? He wanted to take you to some fancy restaurant, but you politely declined and told him you’d settle for dinner and a movie. And you two did just that, going to this burger joint that was popping off when you entered. You two sat at a booth by a window, enjoying your food and conversing about each other’s day.

“You did not have to do that.” You said in giggles, bringing a fry to your mouth.

“I did, too!” Gojo replied after taking a big bite from his burger. “The fucker almost tried to dirty my basketball shoes; do you know how much those shits cost? Expensive as hell.”

“Yeah, but to push your buddy to an ice bath because he almost dirtied your shoes?” You shook your head with a smile. “And all shoes are expensive these days, Satoru.”

“Yeah, well, mine were custom-made. So,” he takes another bite. “Serves him right.”

Gojo didn’t notice it himself, but you saw a bit of ketchup on the corner of his mouth. Tending to your friend’s obliviousness, you grab a napkin and stretch to him. At first, he thought you were giving it to him to wipe it off himself; nope. You did it for him, tenderly dabbing the condiment off his lip.

And you didn’t even notice what you were doing until your eyes met his, instantly pulling your hand back. “Sorry! You just…had something on there…”

“Mmm, thank you…” he said it low, but you heard him. What you couldn’t hear, thank God, was the beat of his heart going at an unsteady rate. It took a minute for you two to shuffle uncomfortably for the conversation to flow back.

After the dinner was the movie, a random action movie that you two felt interested to see. And it wasn’t that bad of a film; the plot was pretty subpar, the acting mediocre, but overall, a good movie.

However, Gojo couldn’t focus on the movie for lengthy periods because his eyes would usually drift to the right of him where you sat, surveying how engrossed you were watching the film that you didn’t notice him. God, even in the dark, you looked so gorgeous and cute.

Sometimes, he’d glance at your armchair and look at your hand, the inner dialogue between himself on whether he should go for it and place his hand on top of yours. But he doesn’t do it. He wants to, but he can’t, not like this. It was killing him so much; the feeling of wanting to touch you and have you against him again was haunting him — they’ve been haunting him for the past few days now.

“Fuck…” he’d mutter under his breath, but you wouldn’t hear because of the sound of explosions coming from the theater speakers. He wanted you but didn’t want to mess this date up. He couldn’t afford to screw this chance with you, he just couldn’t.

Once the movie was over, he’d walk with you to the parking lot where the car was parked. The chill winds of February crawl up on your bodies, and you bundle up into your warm hoodie. “Did you enjoy the movie?”

He hummed with a tilted head. “Meh, I’ve seen better. It wasn’t too bad. What about you; you liked it?”

You looked up to ponder and shrugged, swaying side-to-side as Gojo leaned on his car. “Yeah, it was okay. There’s better stuff out there.”

“You just saying that to agree with me?”

“No, maybe you’re reading my mind and copying my answers.” You give a tiny smug look, only for him to smile along.

He then asks, “So…did I do good with this?” He can’t lie; how you lifted your brow instead of giving an immediate answer made him a little nervous. And with the tilt of your head and turning your body fully towards him, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. You hand him your verdict:

“I think so. You treated me to good food, didn’t try to poison me, and got a free movie ticket out of it.” You jokingly punch his chest. “Yeah, I liked this date, Gojo. Consider yourself redeemed.”

He snickers lightly, “Good, I don’t think I can take another day of you being mad at me.” That made you giggle; good. Things go quiet for a while, and he averts his stare downward. His eyes land on your hand, the thoughts from the movie theater teetering back to his head. Goddamn it, he really wants to touch you—

“I can see you staring through those glasses, Gojo.” And just like that, you propelled your hand to link with his, making the tall boy flinch. “Your subtlety is wearing thin.”

Your teasing tone evokes a chuckle disguised in a sigh from Gojo, his fingers slithering to intertwine with yours. “What makes you think so?”

You peer up to him. Fuck, your eyes were so beautiful. “You were practically staring daggers at me while watching the movie. Am I on your mind that much?”

“Yes.” You expected a different answer – something more playful – and it’s why you couldn’t breathe after he brought his face closer to yours. “Infintely.”

Suddenly, the cold air didn’t bother you anymore. The heat on your face blossoms across your cheeks and ears while maintaining eye contact. “Am I on your mind right now?” He nods, your noses barely brushing each other. You whisper to him, “What are you thinking about?”

“I wanna kiss you.” He closes his eyes; you can see from his shades. “I want to hold you like I did before.” The hand clutching yours gets firmer. “I want you…Just you.”

The way he has with words effortlessly pulls you in, his voice comforting to the point you allow him to put his other hand around your waist. You faintly reply before connecting your lips with his. “I want you too…Satoru.”

When he pecks your lips, a feeling you two feared was wiped off the Earth returns to warm your bodies. Your hands instantly go around his neck like usual, sighing through your nostrils as you permit to sink into his hold and kiss.

Gojo uses this to bring his hand behind your neck to keep you on him, the kiss becoming more passionate by the second. He licks on your bottom lip, a sign of wanting entry. So, you open and lick him back before he takes the initiative to put his tongue inside your mouth. And you moan into his lips — fuck, how he missed the sounds you’d make for him. It felt like forever since the last time he heard them.

This moment brings the spark between you two back, the sounds of the world around you drawing out from your space. All that mattered was you being in his embrace and him having you with him like this again. It all felt right — being with each other — with nothing bothering this peace meant for you two.

So much so that Gojo took it upon himself to convince you to stay with him tonight at a nice hotel close by, where you two couldn’t get off each other the moment you closed the door to your room. Hot kisses are exchanged as you two remove each other’s clothing, Gojo undoing your bra and lifting you to place on top of the bed.

His lips never leave yours, even when his hands play with your chest. Your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer as he rocks into you. Your core down south experiences throbs that entail you want him, your horniness dialing up with every grind of his groin.

He breaks the kiss to playfully bite your lip so he can hear you yelp for him, placing his lips from your chin down to your neck. You say in shaky breaths, “Hahhh, Satoru, please touch me more…”

He lifts his lips from your clavicle, “Of course, princess; you know I always got you.” He then licks from your collarbone down to one of your nipples in a tantalizingly slow fashion, your body squirming from anticipating what he’s about to do. His tongue finds its way to swirl around the bud, having your hum to the wet touch. And when he decides to suck it into his mouth when it’s hardened, you gasp.

But it doesn’t stop there, one hand tweezing the other nipple as he licks around the one in his mouth. The free one snakes down your abdomen to your skirt, lifting the material for his digits to meet the damp spot of your panties.

You jerk at the feeling of him moving the material to the side, rubbing his bare fingers on your precious, wet cunt and clit. “Ahhnn! Satoru, Satoru—Mmmm…” He rubs around on your folds in circles before adding his forefinger smoothly inside, his slender digit efficiently rubbing your vaginal walls have you holding back whimpers.

When he thinks you’re ready enough, he adds his middle finger inside. Both his digits scrape and graze around your inner walls, provoking silent screams to leave your lips. Your fingers find his hair to tug, which only has him suck on your breast more.

“Hooohhh, mmmmh…Right there, right thereee…please—Ohooo…!” You moan to him, your thighs jerking with every scratch of his fingers in your chasm.

“Mmm…you close, pretty?” Gojo releases your nipple for a quick second, returning it inside his warm mouth after he sees you nod hurriedly. “Hold tight, okay? Lemme get you ready, sweetie…”

You cry at the increase in speed, the nails of his fingers scraping the velvety tender spots inside you. Your body jerks to him as your hands find his shoulders to pinch on. Gojo lets go of your bud once again to move his lips down south, spreading your legs to take a look at your mess.

“Holy shit,” he says with a bitten lip before he crouches down to kiss your clit after slipping your panties off. “I fucking missed this pretty thing so fucking much.” He licks your soapy folds up to your clit, drowning the delicate button with feverish laps of the tongue. It has you screaming his name, and he loved that so fucking much.

Gojo stuffs his face to your slit, drinking your essence while teasing the clit with fast swipes. Your wails get louder and louder, and he doesn’t make it any easier when he keeps your legs spread for him to continue his work. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, I’m—“Ahhahnn!!”

That’s when you come onto his face, your cunt spasming with electric pulses and your legs shaking with every hit of your orgasm. And he keeps on sucking and licking your fluids; you’d think he’s sucking the life out of you. But you can’t blame him; the boy is starved for you.

He soon withdraws his face from between your legs when you’re done with wailing and crying, licking his lips and leaving off the bed to take out a condom, throwing his jeans and drawls to the floor. But then something is wrong, and you can see it when Gojo presses his lips into a thin line before climbing back to the bed and maneuvers on top of you. He aligns the glans of his cock to the entrance of your vagina, and it’s there that you notice he doesn’t have the rubber on.

“I…I forgot to bring a condom, sweetie.” He says to you in a tune that harbors slight worry, and you can tell from his azure eyes that he’s a little nervous about this step. You held back a giggle; for once, he looked adorable when worried about something.

“…How good is your pull-out game?” You ask, half-jokingly.

His white brows trench together. “Are you sure?”

You nod and kiss him on the cheek. “I trust you, Satoru, so just be careful, okay?”

He blinks at you, taken aback by your lack of resistance. Yet, at the same time, he knew you needed this just as much as he did. So, with that in mind, he pushes the glans into you, observing your breathing to gauge how much to propel inside. The tip of his length then bullies itself inside you, a sharp gasp coming from your sweet lips while Gojo moans at the raw feeling of you around him.

“—Hnnn! H–Hooooly fuck,” with every inch he pushes inside of you, the sensation of your pussy chills him up his spine. The rubber had been shielding this away from him, every dent and smooth tissue of you wrapping around him. Oh, fuck, this was a dangerous game to play. “Oh, shiiit, you feel so fucking good..”

You could agree with that notion, experiencing his naked girth inside you for the very first time. You could feel his veins graze against your walls, the curve scraping your spots tenderly. “Ohhhh, fuck, you too, ‘toru…Oh my God…”

Even starting with slow thrusts was a hard card to pull, the subtraction of the condom making this feel so new and fresh — a scary dance to do with two young lovers. He pulls his cock slowly til halfway up the tip and then rushes it back inside to your wetness. Your pretty purrs fly out with every movement.

Gojo takes this time to look at you with your disheveled figure sprawled out for him to see and pick at like eye candy. Watery eyes batting up at him with pleasure behind half-lidded orbs, your chest that he loves so much out for him to give a nipple another tweak, and your legs curling around him as his tempo increases. You’re so fucking beautiful, and he’s so lucky to be able to have you under him again. He wouldn’t want it any other way — he wants to belong to you and you with him. It’s a dream he’d kill to have with you.

“Y/n…” he says your name in a shaky breath, groaning at your slit clamping onto him so suddenly. “Can I…Be your boyfriend?”

You didn’t have enough time to react appropriately because Gojo hammers his cock into you with no warning. You scream out for him to stop, to wait a minute so you can give an adequate response! But no, he ruts into you like his hips have a mind of their own, forcing you to cling onto him for dear life as the curve of his length jabs you in places that have you rolling your eyes to the stars.

“—Ahahhnn!! Ahhh! W-Wait, Satoruuuu!!” Your words slur out with a hot breath, drool coming down your mouth with no control. “You want me….Mmnph! To be your—“

“Yes! Oh, fuck…yes!” He says with no hesitation, slamming his pelvis down to your pussy so fast that his balls smack on your taint. Oh, fuck, this felt way too damn good! “I wanna be yours, and I want you to be mine—Hooooh….No one else’s…!”

“Nnahh…!! Ohhh, my God, fuuuuck…!” Your heart beats eighty miles per hour, your whole body endures heat shared with Gojo, and your thoughts travel too fast to keep up. He wants to be my boyfriend? He wants to be my boyfriend! “…R–Really?”

“Yeah, really, really.” He smiles breathlessly at you, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s be a couple, yeah? I want you so bad; you drive me so fucking crazy—Hannhh!! Shit, shit… I don’t want to hide this anymore — to hurt my cutie anymore. Let’s make this official so I can be with you without worries.” He snaps his hips harshly, grinding his pelvis with the flex of his abs, provoking more horny howls to seep from your puffy lips. He lowers to whisper to your ear while a hand clings to yours on the side. “Whatcha say, princess, hmm? Let’s be together….Hmmm…!”

Holy fuck, this is not a confession you were expecting while having your insides churned out, with your crush between your legs, in the middle of a hotel room, on Valentine’s Day. Your mind was getting foggy enough from the hot commotion in your inner thighs — now your head was filling up with fantasies of being with Gojo as a couple! This was beyond bizarre, something out of a fucking movie!

And yet, you couldn’t find any reason to say no! There’s no denying it — those feelings Gojo had for you were the same as you had for him. You feel so happy being around him, in his hold, whispering and expressing his vulnerable side to you, and you’d want to throw all that away? Hell no!

“—Mmm, yessss,” you can’t help but shed a little tear at him, to which he readily dries away with a thumb. “Yesss, Satoru, I wanna be yoursss — please…take care of me!”

Gojo slams his lips onto yours, your mewls taken by hungry lips while his strokes go at a rapid tempo. You almost choke on his spit from the way your clit catches abrupt hits from his pelvis, and the tip of his dick pokes your fragile spots with precision.

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! You felt it; it’s coming. You felt it in your bones, the shivers crawling up your spine as you inhaled to prepare. “Maahhh! ‘Toruuu, I’m gonna cumm…! Quick, pull out—Oooooo!!”

Thank God you gave him a warning. The tall other was too lost in the feeling that he was just about to come inside you! He removes his body off of yours to swiftly pull his member out, using his hand to finish the job for him, although he already misses the warmth of your cunt.

He comes at the same time as you, his load shooting out from his urethra and spilling onto his hand. White fluids slide between his fingers as he continues to stroke himself off while your legs twitch and your slit contracts and flutters on nothing, letting the wave of your climax pass on through with every howl.

The air of the hotel room cools your bodies after disconnecting your sexes off each other, and huffs and pants from heaving figures are evidence of you two trying to find your balance in the world. Sky-blue eyes lock in with yours, and he laughs in faint puffs.

He crawls his way back between your legs after wiping his hand, placing kisses up your neck and chin. “Hahhh, fuck, that felt way too good.”

“Mhmm,” you hum with him, letting him place his head in the crook of your neck.

“Hey,” he traces a finger along your collarbone. “Wanna skip classes tomorrow?”

Your eyebrows draw upward. “One day of Valentine’s isn’t enough?”

“Nope~. Plus, I wanna make up a week’s worth of not being around you.”

“Pfft, sure,” you stifled a laugh. “But you need a single day to do all that?”

He lifts his head with a grin. “Well, we don’t have enough clothes to stay here until Saturday.” He maneuvers himself to lie on his side. “Why? You doubt I can do it?”

“You’re free to prove me wrong,” you give him a sneer. “I suggest you start getting to work.” You didn’t expect your words to flip a switch, causing the snow-haired other to grab you by the legs to him. He restrains your hands above your head, and you can’t fight the giggles from his playful manner.

“With pleasure,” he claims your lips again, your sweet murmurs entering his ears.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Psst, oh my God, do you see that?”

“Holy shit, this can’t be real!”

“Woah…Am I in the right universe?”

“Satoru, I told you people would stare…hurry and let go of my hand—“

“Nope! I like where your hand is right now~.”

It was like this the entire day. Ever since your Valentine’s Day date with Gojo, things instantly returned to where they were supposed to be and more! It was amazing how one day could make the bitterness of the weeks prior dissipate with the February wind. There was nothing to be scorned about —nothing to be scared of — everything felt clear to you and the person you were holding hands with.

After that date successfully went well — and won your heart in more ways than one, you’ll admit — you and Gojo decided it was time to unveil the status of your relationship. No more secrets, no more hiding feelings for each other; you two were officially a couple, both in private and outward!

Spending two days alone together felt like a dream, being so close to each other without worrying about being seen and critiqued in the eyes of others. But now, back on campus grounds, you can’t go back on your promise and have to walk with your cheeks and ears burning as Gojo’s fingers tighten the grasp around yours.

Of course, the change of pace was a complete shock to the students and staff on this Friday. The number of perplexed gazes and starstruck figures who stopped to look at the two of you was too many to count — hell, you even saw Professor Gakunaji’s eyes widen for the first time! It was all so embarrassing, being the talk on everyone’s mind after keeping a low profile for so long. And here you are, holding hands with the star basketball player, the guy everyone knew assumed you couldn’t stand being within arm’s length with, and now, the boy you want to spend the rest of your college life with, Satoru Gojo.

Who, by the way, is loving every single second of this — of course he is, the fucking cheeky bastard! You don’t think you’ve seen his smile and dimples never leave his face for the entire day. He was stuck to you like glue, walking you to your classes and immediately returning to your side after his lectures ended like a happy puppy. He knew you were a little overwhelmed with it all, but that wasn’t a problem because he’d happily make sure you didn’t think you were the only one going through with this. Plus, you just looked so fucking cute looking all bashful around him now that he expresses his love for you publicly. I mean, the way you were in shock after he kissed you on the cheek after walking you to your second class of the day with Utahime? Oh, he wished he had a picture! Especially with your roommate’s jaw dropped to the floor (which never closed throughout the remainder of class as she just stared at you) after seeing the startling, romantic interaction.

And now, here you two go, walking out from your last class of the day with Professor Yaga — who was caught off guard when you two walked in together with a lovey-dovey (mostly on Gojo’s part) atmosphere but gave you a small smile as you walked to your seats (which were changed because Gojo pleaded you sat next to him from now on) as Haibara and Ijichi exchanged cheeky glances at the observation.

You two were walking down to the dining hall, where you planned to have dinner with Shoko and Geto and tell the two best friends of Satoru Gojo of your intimate relationship. But gosh, everything was going too fast! “Hey, Satoru—“

“Yeeeess~?” He says in a sing-song tune, too pleased with himself as he swings your hand to and fro with his.

“Do we really have to do this today? Why not eat with Shoko and Geto tomorrow—“

“Huuuh!!? But I’m taking you out tomorrow!” You want to hide your face when passersby hear your boyfriend’s reaction, immediately swapping gossip when they’re out of your vision. “Besides, they’ll be hella busy studying tomorrow at the library, so today was the best option.”

You nod aimlessly. Ughhh, this is just too much. I feel like my head is gonna implode. Then, you felt Gojo grip your palm tighter and put your walk to a stop, prompting you to look up at him again.

“Hey,” he says with his signature smile, his dimples becoming more prominent now that you’re gazing up at him. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? I got you, and you got me, right?” And he brings you in for a tight hug that has you squeaking and your lips quivering from hearing people gasp at the display of affection. “And now that I finally have you to myself — officially! — don’t think for a second that you can ever get rid of me!”

On the one side, you really want this fool to let go of you so everyone can stop staring and you can get this dinner over with! And yet, on the other side, your heart was beating in such a tune that had you melt into his embrace, and the smell of his cologne made you hum to his chest. You can’t seem to fight the smile growing on your face and your hands coming around to hug the white-haired, lovestruck fool back. “You’re too silly, Satoru…”

“Uhh, are we interrupting something?”

With haste, you and Gojo break the hug to see the owner of that familiar voice. To your surprise, it was Shoko greeting you two with a smile. Next to her was Geto, also harboring a sly smile on his face before you.

You cough to clear your throat away from Gojo, who sneaks his hand on your shoulder to keep you close. “H–Hi Shoko, Geto! I see you guys beat us to the dining hall.“

“Yeah, we were wondering if you two would make it. But now,” Shoko’s brown eyes venture from the figures of Gojo and you being close together, “I can see that you two wanted a bit of time to yourselves.”

“Uhhh, oh, you know; we just wanted to walk together since we had our last class for today!” You try to move your shoulder away from Gojo, but his grasp gets firmer and firmer.

Geto laughs, “Oh, no need to act so shy on us, Y/n! It’s good to know that you two are back to being close and cool now. Especially now that you two are a couple.”

“Ohhh, c’mon now, we’re not—“ you stopped, your body going rigid, and everything suddenly fell silent. “Wait….You knew?”

Geto hums as confirmation. “Yeah? Gojo told me.”

Your face forms into confusion. Gojo?

“Me?” Silver brows hang up at the statement. “I never said anything.”

Shoko makes a slightly bewildered expression. “What are you talking about? Remember that photo that you sent to Geto on Wednesday, and—“

“Woah, woah, woah.” Gojo’s fingers tense on your shoulder. Oh, he knows he’s in trouble. You can tell as he silently removes his hand while you question his best friends. “What picture?”

“Uhhh, the one he sent when you two were out for Valentine’s?” When we WHAT!? “Hold on, lemme pull it up from our messages…Yeah, this one.”

The moment Geto brings out his phone and gives it to you, Gojo felt his heart dropped to his ass. Not that you could tell, but the aura of fear was enough to be picked up. What showed on the screen not only had your jaw drop to your feet, but the cutesy feelings you had a minute ago with Gojo faded. Instead, it was replaced with the growing irritation that had your fingers tremble.

Geto’s phone screen displays a message and an attachment from Gojo on the night of your date. Judging by the time, it happened when you assumed you two were sleeping. The attachment proves your point, showing your sleeping face peacefully on Gojo’s bare chest. And the man in question is shown groggily awake, holding his phone to take the picture while his lips are planted on your forehead. The message below the photo answers Geto’s question, “Yo, you two made up already?” To which the taller figure says, “Yeah, kissed and made up. :3”

“Gojoooo….”

Before you do or say anything, your shaky hands return the phone to its owner, which Geto takes silently while backing three steps away with Shoko.

“SATORUUUU!!!”

You yell out his name without a care for the people around you who immediately look at you. You turn to where he’s supposed to be — supposedly by your side. But you’re not surprised to see that he’s gone, turning your heel to find that the snowy-headed figure was backing up with his hands up.

“H–Hey now, Y/n,” He says nervously. He better be nervous because your eyes showcased a wrath he wasn’t ready for. “Calm down for me, okay, princess?”

“You…Are so…FucKING DEAD!!!”

And it was there that you chased him down, running around the halls. Geto and Shoko watch with baffled expressions before they scoff with laughter. The same goes with the other students who witness the commotion, enjoying the familiar banter between you two.

It’s weird to say that you and Gojo are officially a couple now, at least to the public eye. However, no one seems to be in denial of it or push it aside. If anything, they seem happy for you two, finally coming around to express each other’s love for one another in a better way than insults and shouts.

And your friends can say the same, enjoying the change of ambiance whenever you two are in the same space. No more trying to ignore the rambles and arguments between you two, no more tired eyes rolling around their sockets when you call each other names. Because they know those will happen anyway; nonetheless, it’s now in a better light that the banner of young love is finally open and hanged.

It’s a love that you and Gojo can finally express, be free, and be happy with.

“COME BACK HERE, SATORU GOJO!!”

“NO, YOU’RE JUST GONNA HIT ME!!”

And you two wouldn’t want it any other way.

4K notes · View notes

strwberri-milk · 2 months ago

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Can i request lnd boys talking it through with us during readers first time 🥰 soft praises and reassurance 🥰🥰

im gonna do a thing where its just. what he's gonna say to you bc the act itself is p standard - def missionary and him being so so so gentle with his movements to prevent hurting you + lets him watch every expression you make - this is also just making me realise how like. my dialogue for smut really doesnt change too much omg they sound so similar erfeafoaf

His focus is primarily on your your face the whole time, looking at you intensely with every movement of his hips. He doesn't want to hurt you so he's going to take it slow, holding your hands as he gently whispers praise at you.

"You're doing perfectly for me. Yes, just like that."

"You feel perfect wrapped around me like that. I don't think I'll be able to last long. Hmm? No, that's a good thing. It means you're doing good."

"Please - just a little longer. I'm almost there."

"Don't hide your noises. I need to know if you feel as good as I do."

Xavier is very hands on. He's holding you tightly, keeping you in place as much as he can despite your squirming. His pace is unintentionally teasing, long slow grinds as he really savours every movement of his body against yours.

"No, I promise I won't hurt you. I'll take good care of you, I promise."

"You're so warm - I don't know how long I can hold back."

"Look at me. I want to see what faces you make."

"Just a little bit more. I know you can do it."

Rafayel is so sensitive to your touch - more than you ever thought he could be. He's always been receptive but the way he's acting right now, face buried in your neck as he slowly fucks you really takes the cake. You can't escape his presence at all - he's holding you tightly as he absolutely devours you.

"Don't look away from me - I've been dreaming of this moment for far too long."

"You - don't do that - I want to take my time with you."

"I need you so bad. Please don't hold back."

"Yes - yes, just like that. Keep going - you feel so good."

Sylus seems like he'd be rough with you but when you finally end up in his bed he's holding onto you tightly, keeping you pressed against his chest as he showers you in kisses. He loves everything about you and he really wants to make sure you know that.

"Yes kitten, just like that. I knew you could do it."

"Don't worry if you get tired. I told you I'll take care of you."

"Just lay back for me. You don't have to do anything - I'll make sure you feel good, I promise."

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peachesofteal · 2 months ago

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Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic - tw: pregnancy Simon Riley / female reader

"Happy Birthday Orion, happy birthday to you!"

Everyone claps and your baby, no, your one year old, beams, enamored by the attention as his dad leans over and points at the candles. "Can you blow? Like this," he mimics, only to receive a giggle instead, Orion's eyes turning serious as he watches his dad blow the candles out in one short breath, his fists crashing into the cake and then smashing it on Simon's nose.

Your hand settles over your stomach subconsciously.

Everyone laughs. Kyle practically howls, Johnny bending over at the waist. The reaction makes Orion giggle like mad, and you lean against the door frame, soaking it in.

You already sent a million pictures to your family, hoping to alleviate their guilt about not being able to make it, their absence missed but not to a point where you feel it sharply.

Things are just different now.

You've built a life, this life, with Simon and Orion. With Cami, and Kyle, Ellie and John, even Johnny. It's a life you're happy in, a life you love, tucked up in this quiet town, nestled in the hills. The three of you, the wives, formed a friendship, a connection, leaning on each for support, building camaraderie over the long weeks and months of being alone.

Simon clears his throat at your side. "Where are you?"

"Nowhere." You lay your head on him. "I can't believe we have a one year old."

"I know. It's going too fast." He wraps his arms around your shoulders, tucking you close. "Cute bugger though." Orion is half eating his cake, half smashing into onto Johnny's face. He swats your ass. "C'mon. Don't you want a picture?"

Later, when everyone is gone, and the kitchen is clean, and the windows are open to let in the breeze, you teeter at the edge of the room while Simon puts Orion down. "Stop growing up, big guy." He traces two fingers down his cheek, careful not wake him. "Love you." Your heart skips.

"He asleep?" He doesn't even turn. He knew you were there, he always knows where you are in the house, like he can hear your breathing, or sense you.

"He is." You reach for him.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

Simon coaxed your initial agreement to have another baby out when he was holding you on the edge, cock nestled inside you, his uniform scraping against your skin. It was a heat of the moment thing, a 'please make me come' thing, but afterwards-

Afterwards, you sat with it. You sat with it for months. You tossed it back and forth, wavering, walking the tightrope of the decision.

You knew, in your heart, all along.

There was no decision to make.

You curl into him, mangled and mashed against his body, legs twisted together, an arm anchoring your thigh. "You've been thinkin' all day, honey. Don't think I haven't seen ya."

"I have." Your voice is gentle in the dark, soft as a whisper, breathy on his chest. He tenses.

"What is it?" He doesn't like this, you know. Doesn't like when you slip into your own mind. Since the incident, it's been harder, harder for him to feel comfortable, harder for him to push back against his anxiety. He worries, too much. Far too much.

"Everything's fine," you assure quickly, "Everything is okay, Si. I promise." It's building up inside you, a storm destroying everything in its path, fighting its way forward until there's no choice left except to let it out.

"Tell me, mama. Whatever it is, I-"

"I'm pregnant." He freezes.

"What?"

"I'm pregnant, Simon." You're rolled onto your back immediately, arms caging you in, thighs spread and bracketing yours.

"Tell me again." He demands, and you laugh, tangling your fingertips in his hair, tugging on his arm to drag his hand across your lower belly.

"We're having another baby." There's a look in his eye, heavy and wild, rich unending depths, one you're familiar with now, the instinctual, possessive, insane look he gets when you catch him staring at you. He doesn't speak, the silence sparking unease in the back of your mind. "Say something." He shakes his head, rolling down your body until he's nestled between your knees, mouth hot beneath your belly button.

"I'm gonna take care of you, of both of you," he pants the oath, inscribing it, branding you. "I'm gonna take such good care o' you, mama."

"I know Si, I know."

"I'm gonna be here, I'll take leave, text Price right now-"

"Okay, slow down," you knead his shoulders, "we've got a ways to go until you'll need to take leave, okay? Don't worry." His forehead rests on your stomach, and you can't resist the urge to poke at him a bit. "So... you're happy about it then?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm... I'm very happy." The words are thick, and he keeps his face turned down so you can't see. They sound wet. "I love you. You're everything to me. Orion, you, this baby- I... love you."

"I love you too." He tugs, pulling you close.

"I hope it's a girl. A little piece of you, with your eyes." You smile, stroking his hair.

"We'll have to wait and see."

#peaches writes #through me (the flood)#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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soaps-mohawk · 9 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 8: The Thing About Ghost

Summary: You should have expected something bad would happen. You just didn't expect this. Perhaps something good could come of it after all.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, slight Gaz x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, PTSD, nightmares, violence, medical stuff

A/N: I started this chapter this morning. It just came spilling forth and thus you're getting a bonus update this week. I'm honestly so glad to have this one done. Now I can finally say something more than "you'll see" when you ask about Ghost.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You reach a hand out from under the mountain of blankets, fumbling blindly across your nightstand until you reach your vibrating phone. You pull it under the blankets, blinking blearily at the name on the screen.

Kyle.

“Hello?” You mumble sleepily, your eyes already drooping again.

“Oh, so you can hear your phone vibrating but not me knocking at your door for fifteen minutes?”

You let out a quiet groan, burrowing back under the covers. “Comfy.”

“I’m sure you are, but it’s breakfast time, love.”

You let out a quiet groan, still not moving. “Not hungry.”

“You need to eat, love. You’ll be grumpy all morning if you don’t.”

He’s right. If you skip breakfast, you’ll get snippy and hangry. Yet, the comfort of your bed is calling, threatening to lull you back to sleep again.

“Don’t go falling asleep on me again.”

You startle back awake, groaning. “I wasn’t.”

“Come on, love. I don’t want to have to get Soap to kick in your door.”

You let out a loud, dramatic groan before grumbling acquiescence. You slide out from under your covers until you’re sitting on the floor, rubbing your eyes. You don’t bother hanging up as you set your phone on the nightstand before crawling over to the door, just close enough that you can reach up and unlock it.

You sit back on the floor, hair mussed and still in your pajamas. The door slowly swings open, Gaz leaning against the doorframe. He smiles softly down at you as you yawn, blinking up at him sleepily.

“That’s cute, but if we don’t get to breakfast, Price might send the cavalry searching.” He says.

You grumble, pushing yourself up to stand before you grab a sweatshirt and shoes, running your fingers through your hair to make it at least semi-presentable.

You lean against Gaz as you walk to the mess, resting your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. It’s quieter in the mess than normal, Gaz leading you through the line to get food, making your tray for you before you shuffle over to the table where the others are. You sit down next to Price, letting out a yawn as you stare sleepily down at your tray.

“Was starting tae get worried about ye.” Soap grins at you.

“Yeah, heard her phone vibrating but not me knocking for fifteen minutes.” Gaz says, taking the seat next to you.

“I was comfy.” You shrug, picking up your fork.

“Guess I don’t have to bother asking how you slept.” Price says, grinning fondly down at you.

“Like a rock.” You say, before taking a bite of sausage.

“Good.” He says, almost beaming with pride that your little shopping spree yesterday worked, and that the added comfort in your room helped.

Your face warms under his gaze, practically able to feel him preening with pride. It makes something twist in your stomach, knowing that you made him feel that way.

The moment is broken as Ghost sighs, standing from the table to dump his tray and leave the mess.

Soap shakes his head as you watch him go, a frown pulling at your brows. “Don’ mind him. He could do with some soft blankets and more pillows of his own.”

The image of Ghost curled up with fluffy blankets and a stuffed strawberry of his own has you laughing loudly, not even bothered by the looks you get from the tables around you.

You lounge against Gaz’s chest, his arm wrapped around your chest. Your back vibrates every so often as he chuckles at something that happens on the TV. You’re focused on your book, content with a lazy Sunday afternoon.

“Don’ you two look cozy,” Soap says entering the rec room. “Don’ mind me.” He kneels on the couch next to your feet before flattening himself out between your legs until his head lands in your lap.

Your cheeks warm as he sighs out a breath, making himself comfortable. You set your book aside, electing to run your fingers through his mohawk. You wonder if you can put him to sleep that way like you almost achieved with Gaz. He lets out a content hum as your nails scratch at his scalp, running your fingers over the short cropped sides of his head.

You let yourself relax further against Gaz, absentmindedly massaging Soap’s scalp. Your gaze is on the TV but you’re not really watching, too caught up in the bliss of the moment to really care.

The moment is ruined as Soap’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He lets out a groan, shuffling around to fish it out, lifting his head to stare at the screen.

“Have to take this.” He murmurs, pushing himself up off of your lap.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips before leaning over your shoulder, kissing Gaz. Your eyes widen as he leaves the room, your heart starting to race. Of course they kiss each other. It’s probably the most natural thing in the world to them. You’ve just never seen it.

Much less be stuck in the middle of it.

The images begin to flood your mind, your face getting warmer and warmer. The mental imagine of being sandwiched between them while they kiss over your shoulder, hands everywhere, skin against skin.

“Enjoyed that, did you?” Gaz’s voice is husky in your ear, his lips brushing the delicate skin.

Of course he can smell the hike of sweetness in your scent. His hand drops from where it had been wrapped across your chest, his hand trailing down until it rests against your stomach. His lips press against the sensitive skin beneath your ear, tongue darting out to taste.

“Soon.” He murmurs, before leaning back, resting against the couch once more.

Your face is burning hot, heart thumping in your chest. A shiver runs down your spine at the idea, your body relaxing further back against Gaz’s, your stomach fluttering as the warmth of his hand seeps through your shirt.

You’re ready when he knocks, standing in front of your door again. You open it before he’s finished knocking, his hand falling back to his side. He stares at you for a breath before he turns on his heel, making his way from the barracks.

You scramble after him as usual, following him into the gym and into the private room. You follow his lead of removing your shoes and jacket, falling into what’s become a routine for the two of you.

“We’ll work on combos again.” He says, wrapping your hands for you, before his own.

You go back through what you had done last time, all the combos you’d learned. Well, he told you. You’ve forgotten most of them after the exhaustion and a couple days off. You can tell he’s agitated already as he walks you through the combos, correcting your punches and stance.

“Move your feet when you punch.” He says, kicking your back leg out from under you, dropping you onto your knee. “Otherwise you’ll hurt yourself.”

“You’re going to hurt me doing shit like that.” You murmur, fixing your stance again.

He grabs punch mitts, moving to stand in front of you. He calls out numbers, working through combos and punches. You miss a lot, still trying to memorize which punch belongs to which number and which order to swing your fists in. Part of you wants to drive your fist straight up the middle and into his face.

A sudden hit to your shoulder sends you sprawling to the mat. You lay there for a second before looking up at him in shock.

“What was that?” You say, getting back to your feet.

“Dodge or block, just like I taught you.” He says, swinging at you again with the mitt, forcing you back a step. “Your opponent won’t be standing still. You have to know how to throw punches and avoid the ones coming at you.”

You huff out a breath, trying to stay aware and throw the right punch. You don’t manage to block or dodge every one, your shoulders getting sore as he hits you. He’s not pulling his punches by much, and you can imagine the bruises you’ll sport later. You’re getting tired fast, the combination of the physical effort and the brain power growing to be too much at this intensity so soon.

A solid hit to the center of your chest as you sprawling out on the mat on your back, the air leaving your lungs with a horrible wheezing sound. For a moment you think he might have actually injured you, fear in your eyes as he looms over you.

“Get up.” He says, shoulders squared like he’s the one in a fight.

“Give me a second.” You say, still trying to catch your breath. “I need a break.”

“There are no breaks in a fight.” He says.

“Yeah, well, I’m starting to think maybe I should just give up and die if I ever get in a fight.” You snap.

Something flashes through his gaze, the mitts hitting the floor with a thud. He grabs the front of your tank top, lifting you to your feet. He holds you in front of him, leaning down until you’re eye to eye.

“You think it’s that easy to die? When the time comes you can just lay down and let it happen?” He growls, emotions flickering like flames in his eyes.

“If this is what it’s going to take to live, then yeah.” You say, not backing down despite the prickling feeling at the back of your neck.

“You have no idea what it’s like, when death is looming over you. The fear, the regret, the overwhelming push to fight to survive.” He’s close enough that if he wasn’t wearing a mask, you could have felt his breath on your face.

“I don’t know because I’m not like you. I’m not a fighter, I’m not trained like you. When I asked you to teach me to defend myself, this is not what I meant.” You say, shoving against his chest.

It takes him by surprise enough that he stumbles back a step. He catches himself easily, hands closing into fists at his sides. He’s ready to fight, you can see it. You’ve unlocked the alpha, angered the beast within him.

His scent bowls over you, sending you scrambling back out of instinct. The prickling at the back of your neck intensifies and you try to clear your head, preparing you for this fight. You don’t stand a chance, you know that. Going off instinct alone, he could overpower you easily.

Despite everything in your brain telling you to run away, you do the opposite, racing towards him. He catches you before you can hit him, your feet leaving the ground as he slams you into the mat. You kick and claw at him, catching him in the ribs but it doesn’t even seem to phase him.

“What was your plan?” He growls, pressing harder against your chest as he keeps you pinned. “Try to take me off my feet? I’m bigger and stronger than you. That’s never going to work.”

“Then stop being such a dick!” You yell, landing a kick against his hip. “You’re just a bully. A big bully. You’re just like my dad!”

Both of you freeze at your words, your eyes wide as you stare up at him. His hand closes around the neck of your tanktop and for half a moment you’re scared he might sink his hand in and pull your spine right out through your chest. Instead he releases you, pushing himself up with a growl and making for his shoes.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he slips them on, grabbing his things before leaving out the door.

You stare at the door wide eyed as it slams closed. You’re still laying there, chest heaving. You stare at it, half expecting it to open back up, for him to come back. He wouldn’t leave you alone, would he? He’s not supposed to. You’re supposed to have one of them with you at all times.

You push yourself up onto shaky legs, slowly approaching the door, half expecting it to fly back open. Maybe he’s just standing right outside, maybe he’s just taking a breath and clearing his head. The handle is cold against your heated skin as you pull it open, sticking your head out.

The hallway is empty.

You quickly duck back inside, closing the door. He wouldn’t leave you. He wouldn’t leave you. Maybe he went to the bathroom. Maybe he just needed a moment to clear his head. Maybe he’s coming back.

You sink onto the bench, trying to control your breathing as it starts to get heavy. You can feel that buzzing sensation in your head, your fingers and toes starting to go numb with panic. The one time you leave your phone behind, it’s the one time you need it. Maybe he’s coming back.

You continue to sit there, waiting, fingers trembling as you put your shoes back on. Someone has to notice your absence eventually. Someone will notice you’re not in your room and you’re not answering your phone. Someone will come looking.

Or is this a test?

You’re panicking now, breaths coming in short gasps. You can’t just walk out of here using the front door. There’s alphas and betas crawling all over the gym and there could be a hundred between you and the barracks now. Someone will stop you. Someone will make a scene.

You can’t reach the windows. Even then, they don’t open and it would be a straight drop to the ground on the other side. You can’t go out the front, but there’s an emergency exit just a few feet down the hallway the other direction. The medical center is the closest building to the gym. Even if Dr. Keller isn’t in her office this early, any of them would be the most likely to help you, to alert Price to your abandoned state.

You have to get out of the gym. Your scent will reach the others in the building eventually, and someone will take notice. Someone will be bold enough to come after the lone omega. You’re panicking, your entire body trembling. Just out the door to the left and through the emergency exit. Then it’s just a few hundred yards to the medical center and then down the hall to Dr. Keller’s office.

You can make it. You spent three months running with the CIA. Speed has always been your strength. Get out the door before anyone notices. You have to get out before someone notices and blocks your exit.

Your mind goes blank as you throw open the door, feet slipping as you race around the corner and down to the emergency door. You don’t even feel the ache in your shoulder as you jam yourself against the door, not caring if it sets off an alarm as you shove your way out to the cool morning air. Your feet move without your brain needing to tell you as you sprint towards the medical building. There’s no one outside, no one milling in the area. No one sees you as you race through the doors, the automatic sliding doors almost catching you as you speed through them and down the hall. Your shoes squeak on the laminate floor, squealing as you slide to a stop in front of Dr. Keller’s office.

You don’t even check if the light is on before you’re frantically knocking. Your breaths are coming in shallow gasps, black dots dancing in your vision as you fight to get air into your lungs. You need to be somewhere safe, you need somewhere safe before you pass out. You can’t pass out in the hallway. It’s not safe.

You nearly fall as the door swings open, stumbling into the office. Dr. Keller says your name but you barely hear it, your legs giving out. She catches you before you fall, easing you into a chair. You sink into the plushness, shaking violently as you stare at her with wide, panicked eyes.

“What is it?” She asks. “What happened?”

“He...he left me!” You sob, your body starting to curl in on itself. “He...he just left me!”

Dr. Keller’s voice sounds far away as she speaks, your vision starting to tunnel. You barely register the blanket being draped around your shoulders, the soft fabric tickling your cheeks.

You don’t hear Dr. Keller on the phone, far too gone in your distress to hear the urgency in her normally calm and composed tone.

Dr. Keller opens the door almost as soon as the knock sounds. Price is slightly out of breath, having reached the office faster than she had expected him to.

“She’s in distress.” Dr. Keller explains as she lets Price into the office, shutting and locking the door behind him. “I need you to be clear headed.” She tells the alpha. “We can worry about why later, right now we need to get her calmed down, understood?”

“Yes, Doctor” He nods, fighting the urge to recoil at the sharp bitter tang of omega distress heavy in the air.

He’s angry, beyond angry but he knows he can’t let that take over right now.

“You’ll need to hold her.” Dr. Keller says, approaching where you’re sitting on the chair. You’re hunched over, arms clutched to your chest as you gasp and wheeze, almost hyperventilating. “It might be easiest on the floor.”

It’s like moving a stone statue as he takes you into his arms, muscles tense and joints locked as your body attempts to protect itself. He sinks to the floor with you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you to support you.

“Slow deep breaths.” Dr. Keller pushes your head against his chest. “Get her to copy you. If her blood pressure gets too high, or she passes out we might risk losing her to her omega, and that will be dangerous for all of us.”

“I know.” Price says as he puts a hand on your head, keeping you against his chest. “I’ve seen it happen.” He presses his cheek against the top of your head, taking slow, even breaths. “Come on, sweetheart. Alpha’s got you. Need you to breathe for me.”

Dr. Keller slips a blood pressure monitor around your arm, fighting the stiffness of your limbs as she sticks a pulse monitor to your chest. Price continues to speak to you, trying to get you to relax.

Slowly as the minutes pass, your breathing begins to slow. Dr. Keller monitors your blood pressure and heart rate, watching it slowly begin to come down as the presence of your alpha soothes your distressing omega.

“There we go.” Dr. Keller says, squeezing your arm gently.

Your breathing slows, but your breaths are still heavy and shaky as you slowly begin to sink into Price’s hold, your muscles slowly relaxing from their tense state. You let out a high-pitched whine as the discomfort begins to set in, tears leaking from your eyes.

“I know.” Dr. Keller says gently. “You’re doing so good.”

You begin to shake uncontrollably again, Price tightening his hold around you. His hand moves to the back of your neck instinctively, gently massaging the tense muscles.

“It’s just the adrenaline.” Dr. Keller explains, moving to the closet and pulling out a stuffed bear. She kneels back down, working your arms away from your chest just enough that she can slip the bear into your arms. “Squeeze that for me.” She says, pushing on your arms until you take over, squeezing the bear to your chest.

You’re still crying as the shaking slowly begins to subside, another whine leaving your lips. You continue to squeeze the bear to your chest, brows pulling into a frown.

“Don’ feel good.” You slur, taking a deep breath in.

“I know, honey, I know.” Dr. Keller says, squeezing your leg. “You did really good, coming down from that. Just keep breathing and relaxing for me.”

You continue to follow Price’s breathing, trying to will your muscles to relax in your exhausted state. Price continues stroking the back of your neck, his heart thumping steadily beneath your ear.

“One more squeeze on your arm and then I can take the monitor off.” Dr. Keller says, taking your blood pressure one more time. “It’s normal if she’s a bit achy and sore for a couple days.” She explains to Price. “She might be a bit disoriented later too. The best thing she can do is rest and someone should stay with her at all times just in case.”

Price leans his chin against your head, fighting the anger building within him. Something happened to cause this, and he has an inkling as to what it was. He tightens his hold around you as you sink into him even more, the shaking starting to subside.

“You don’t sedate for distress?” He asks as Dr. Keller removes the heart monitor and the blood pressure cuff from you.

Dr. Keller shakes her head. “Sedation can make distress worse in some cases. It’s jarring and disorienting and in some cases the omega might wake up and continue distressing. It’s only useful in cases of an actual medical emergency, or if there’s no alpha to provide a sense of safety and the omega starts to take over. Then they become a danger to everyone around them and themselves.”

“I know how devastating that can be.” He says, staring down at you. “The worst people in the world like to use omegas as shields and bait. Sometimes there’s no other way...they get caught in the middle of bullets flying and explosions. The scent of blood and fear around them.” He shakes his head. “Even if they survive that, even if you save them, it’s too much and you just lose them to the omega.”

“It makes me sick.” Dr. Keller shakes her head. “They’re human beings just like you and me and they get treated like chattel. They’re seen as nothing but property and valued only by what they can be used for. Omegas are incredible beings. In ancient cultures they were revered, worshiped. Some cultures believed they were closest to the gods, and some thought they were gods sent to earth to bless those that deserved it. How far humanity has fallen.”

“You have a lot of respect for omegas.” Price says.

“Respect, love, care. Someone in this world has to. That’s why I became a specialist.” Dr. Keller smiles. “Didn’t think I’d end up here, but if I can help even just one omega, that’s more than enough for me.” She pushes herself up to stand. “Let’s get her back to the barracks. She’ll be more comfortable in a familiar atmosphere.”

Price pushes himself to stand, keeping you close to his chest. Dr. Keller locks her office behind her before following Price as he carries you from the medical center.

“She needs to eat.” Dr. Keller says. “She won’t feel like it, but she needs the calories after that. She might be emotional and resistant for a bit, but once she’s fully awake she’ll be alright. Well...that might be a bad way to describe it. If anything happens, or she starts getting worse. Call me.”

“I will.” Price tightens his grip for a moment, pushing down the anger. He can’t let it take over yet. He still has you to take care of. He still has his omega to look after.

Dr. Keller opens the door to the barracks for him, watching him walk down the hallway for a moment before turning and leaving.

Price opens your door, carrying you into your room. He lays you on your bed, making sure you’re comfortable before he steps back out the door. The scent of distress is heavy on him still, as is his building anger.

“MacTavish! Garrick!” He shouts, both of the beta’s doors opening almost immediately. “Have either of you seen Lieutenant Riley this morning?”

Johnny frowns, both of them approaching the obviously agitated alpha. “Naw, I havenae seen him all mornin’.”

“I thought he was training this morning.” Kyle says, a frown pulling at his brows too. “Did something happen?”

He steps back into your room, the two betas following. Kyle sucks in a breath as he stares at you laying there, seemingly peacefully but the quickly suffocating scent tells him otherwise. He moves to your side, sinking down on the edge of the bed next to you.

“Wha’ happened?” Johnny asks, a subtle tremble to his voice.

“There was an incident this morning.” Price says, digging into the very depths of his training to keep his head on straight. “Sent her into distress.”

“That bastard.” Johnny growls. “When I find him-”

“Easy.” Price says, putting a hand on the beta’s chest to stop him from his rampage. “You and I are going to get some food and then come back here. Garrick, you stay with our girl. If anything starts to go wrong, you call Dr. Keller first, then me. Then, I’ve got ghost hunting to do.”

“Ye sure we’re alright, bein’ in her nest like this?”

“It’s not much of a nest. Besides, our girl needs us.”

“‘S cozy, that’s for sure.”

“Could get used to it.”

You have no control over the whine that’s pulled from your chest as you’re thrust into consciousness. You feel a bit like you’ve been hit by a truck, tossed from an airplane with no parachute, and like you just ran a marathon with no training, all at once.

“Easy, love.”

Hands smooth over your face, calluses rough on your burning skin. You feel hot, yet not warm enough at the same time. Your skin is prickling, needing freedom but to be held tighter than you already are. Someone is in front of you, their hand the one on your face. Someone else is behind you, wrapped around your back, arms keeping you held tightly against them.

“Can ye open yer eyes for me, pretty girl?”

Your eyelids feel like they’re made of lead. You don’t want to. You want to keep your eyes closed and sink back into oblivion where nothing hurts and you’re not confused. You let out another quiet whine before you force your eyes open, staring up at the blurry shape above you.

“That’s it, lovely.” Soap says, his fingers still stroking your face. “That’s a good girl.”

“Soap?” You whine, your voice cracking.

He shushes you, tucking your face against his neck, letting you inhale his scent. “We've got ye, lamb.”

Another hand trails down your arm, gently squeezing. You're sore, even your breaths make your body ache.

“You remember what happened, love?” Gaz says quietly, his hand the one gently stroking your arm.

You inhale sharply, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “Ghost...” You breathe, the images coming to your mind but the words are lost. “Left me.”

“Aye.” Soap says, sounding hurt and disappointed. “He was being a right bastard and left ye in the gym alone. Ye ran for the med center. Found the doctor.”

“I...” You take a shaky breath, remembering the panic, the feeling of getting further and further from your body. “I was distressing.”

Gaz hums, wrapping his arms around you. “You distressed, love. Dr. Keller got Price in there in time, worked you through it.”

You let out a shaky breath, letting yourself go limp between them. It makes sense why you feel so awful, why your head is swimming. “What time is it?”

“Just after lunch.” Gaz says.

“Gave us hell tryin’ tae feed ye.” Soap says. “Half fightin’ us, half out of it.”

“Ghost?” You ask, almost afraid to find out the answer.

“Got quite the verbal lashing from Cap'n Price.” Soap says. “Was gone for an hour yellin’ at him.”

It doesn't feel like enough, but you won't admit that out loud. You lean back against Gaz, letting both of their scents wash over you.

“How do you feel, love?” Gaz asks.

“Hurts.” You murmur, wrapping an arm around Soap.

“I know. I'm sorry you had to go through this.” Gaz says pressing a kiss to the back of your head. “Just relax, love. We've got you.”

You let your eyes slip closed again, relaxing between the two betas. You don't care that they're in your room, squished together in your bed with you. You need them and their support.

You'd prefer having Price too, but you won’t dare say that out loud.

You fade in and out of sleep, letting them help you up a couple times as they move around, and move you around, helping you stretch to ease the ache in your joints and muscles. You wind up laying on Soap as Gaz goes to get dinner, his arms wrapped around your middle as you rest on his chest.

“I am sorry about Simon.” He says quietly, lips brushing your forehead.

“Don’t apologize for him.” You murmur. “It was partially my fault. I was egging him on.”

“He shouldnae done tha’ though.” Soap says. “Leavin’ ye like that. ‘S dangerous, and not just for you.”

“I did good. I got out without running into anyone.” You say, trying to reassure yourself before you lose it again.

“You did perfectly.” A voice says, making you jump.

Soap gently rubs your back as you blink up at Price. He’s standing in the doorway, holding two trays of food. You hadn’t even heard the door open.

“Go on and eat in the mess, Johnny.” Price says, setting the trays on your desk. “I’ve got her for now.”

Soap gently eases you off of him, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving you alone with Price. He carries over a tray, setting it on your nightstand before kneeling down in front of you. He turns on your lamp, illuminating the room more than it was with your nightlight and the fading light outside.

“How do you feel?” He asks, taking your hand in his.

“Sore.” You say, squeezing his fingers. “But less than I was earlier. Moving around helped.” You sniffle, wiping the tear that escapes. “A bit weepy too.”

Price smiles softly at you. “That’s expected. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.” He cups your face. “You did the right thing, taking the back exit and going for Dr. Keller’s office.”

“Was closer.” You murmur. “Less risk of running into someone.”

Price nods. “I doubt anyone would have stopped you, but that is still a risk.” He grabs the tray from the nightstand. “Eat up. I know you don’t feel like it, but you need it.”

It’s almost like he read your mind. He moves to your desk, sitting in the chair. The food looks less appetizing than usual, but you know he’s right. Omegas expend a lot of energy while in distress. You’ll feel better if you eat. From the sounds of it, Gaz and Soap had attempted to feed you while you were still out of it, though you’re not sure how successful they were.

You eat mostly in silence, but you don’t mind. You don’t have the brain power to think enough for a conversation, and you’re more than happy to just bask in Price’s calming presence.

Gaz and Soap return after dinner, Price taking his leave again. You’re sure he’s busy, especially after this incident, but you can’t help but feel the sting of it just a bit. He had helped you through your distress, calming you down. You want him to lay next to you, to hold the back of your neck and remind you that he’s here, that he’s got you.

That he’ll never leave you like that.

Instead you curl up between Soap and Gaz, letting the calming present of betas relax you back to sleep.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake up. Soap is gone, but Gaz is still pressed against your back, breathing evenly. You grab one of the phones off the nightstand, glancing at the time. It’s just past one a.m. You’re feeling thirsty again, and like you need to stretch your legs. Gaz is coiled around you, and you’re not sure how to get out without waking him up. You don’t want to disturb him, and you want a second to breathe and clear your head without the influence of his scent.

You carefully roll away enough to grab the strawberry pillow off the floor from where it likely rolled after Soap left. You slowly ease it between your bodies until he’s wrapped around the pillow, settling with a sigh. You let out a quiet breath, rising from the bed slowly and padding quietly to the door. Your eyes are on him as you unlock it, slipping out quickly. You leave it cracked open before sneaking down the hallway towards the rec room.

It’s quiet in the barracks, almost eerily so as you slip into the empty room, heading for the fridge. You stand there, half debating on a beer instead of water. Perhaps a little alcohol might numb at least some of the ache in your joins, or at least clear your mind a bit. You hate the taste of beer, though, and Gaz would know immediately.

You sigh, grabbing a water, the back of your neck prickling as you stand up. You close the fridge door, whirling around, a scream caught in your throat.

“Are you going to scream?” Ghost’s voice rumbles from behind his mask. He’s standing just inside the rec room, blocking the doorway.

“Are you going to hurt me?” You ask, flattening yourself against the fridge.

“Why would I do that?” He has the gaul to sound almost confused.

“You seemed pretty eager to this morning.” You say, clutching the water bottle to your chest. “You abandoned me.”

“I didn’t. I was right behind you the whole time, until you went into the med center.” He explains, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” You snap, getting agitated by the alpha and how he’s treated you thus far. “You just up and left me by myself in a vulnerable place. How was I supposed to know you were still there? For all I knew you were halfway back to the barracks. Was I just supposed to blindly trust that you would be there, that you would follow me if I decided to brave walking past a bunch of worked up alphas? I can’t trust that. I can’t trust you like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you haven’t given me a reason to!” You almost shout it, just managing to keep control over your volume so you don’t accidentally wake the others. “You don’t like me, you keep treating me like shit. Just going off of that, I wouldn’t put it past you to just up and leave me to fend for myself.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“But you did! You did today! You put me in danger! I distressed because of you! I haven’t distressed since-” You cut yourself off, deflating a bit at your near slip of words. You’re not sure you want to open that can of worms, allow for that kind of vulnerability with the alpha that had nearly killed you earlier. But, maybe you do need that kind of vulnerability. Maybe he needs it. “Since I was taken to the institute.” You finish, feeling yourself deflating a bit.

Tears prick at your eyes, his own figure visibly deflating a bit. That scent is back, the one from a couple nights ago when you had run into him in a similar situation. You want out of here, you want back to the safety of doors around you, doors that could be opened and Ghost pulled from you easily if needed.

“Move.” You say, bravely squaring up to the alpha blocking you in.

He says your name like a warning, not budging an inch.

“Move!” You shout, going for his middle with your shoulder, but he’s faster, catching you before you can hit him.

“Calm down.” He growls, trying to hold your squirming form.

One scream. One scream and the others would be on you. How quickly could Ghost act, though? How quickly could his hand close around your throat and squeeze, or maybe even twist?

“Calm down!” He growls again, forcing you backwards.

Your feet slip on the tile, sending you back onto your back. You wince at the jolt to your already sore body, the air leaving your lungs in a harsh gasp. Ghost sinks down to the floor next to the couch, leaning against the side of it like he can’t bear to hold himself up anymore.

“It was a long time ago.” He starts, the tiredness evident in his voice. His eyes are on the floor in front of you, not even looking up as you push yourself up onto your elbows. “Back when I was a newly made Sergeant. My first deployment, first mission. We were hunting a man, real scum of the earth, chasing him through the jungle.”

You almost want to stop him, unsure if he can even be telling you this, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

“Things got complicated when he swept through a village, picked up all the local omegas. He was using them as human shields. We cornered him in some run down shack. Him, his men, and the poor omegas. The commanding officer in charge of the mission started hostage negotiations, tried to get him to let the omegas go. He knew he’d lost, he’d never get out of there without being captured or killed.” Ghost shakes his head, letting out a heavy breath. “So he agreed. The commanding officer had to have known. We all should have known.”

He goes silent, the quiet of the barracks and the world outside almost eerie. You’re sitting up now, almost holding your breath in anticipation. You’re not sure he’s ever spoken this much to you at once before, much less something that’s obviously so vulnerable, and potentially confidential.

“He sent the omegas out in all directions, running straight at us. We were ordered to stay where we were. We couldn’t run out there, we couldn’t help them.” His hands close into fists, his scent souring. “They started firing at the omegas. There was one running straight at me. I still remember her, the look on her face. The fear in her eyes as she raced towards me.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I remember how the blood felt splattering on my face. The bullet shot right past my ear. She fell close enough I could have reached out and touched her. Clean shot right through the back of her head.”

He shakes his head, finally looking at you. Tears have gathered in your eyes as you stare at him. His scent is sour, tinged with the tanginess that you had smelled a couple nights ago when he ran into you coming back from the rec room.

Fear.

That scent is fear.

“I still think about it. What if I had disobeyed orders? What if I had just reached out to help her? Would she have made it? Could we have brought at least one omega back to that village? Would the bullet have hit me instead?” He lets out a long breath. “I still have nightmares about it. See it clear as day, that look on her face seconds before her life ended.”

You’re moving, crawling closer to him. He doesn’t move, not even a blink or a flinch as you get closer and closer until you’re in front of him, close enough to see the light blonde color of his lashes. He still won’t look at you, his gaze on the floor as you sit in front of him.

“You saw me.” You say softly, not needing him to explain further. “Instead of some omega, it was me in your dream. You’re afraid. That’s why you treat me the way you do. You’re scared if you get close to me, if you allow me into the pack, allow me into this life, that something like that will happen to me. That’s why you were afraid that night, when I went to the rec room to grab water. You woke up from a nightmare about me.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you don’t need him to. You’re beginning to understand him now. One moment of vulnerability and the complex specter that is Ghost is beginning to become clearer and clearer to you. He’s beginning to take shape, forming out of the mists of confusion and aggression that have plagued you since your arrival in his life.

“That doesn’t make what you did okay.” You say, breaking the eerie silence again. “It doesn’t make the way you treat me okay, but I guess...I guess I can understand why now. Why you’re so hard on me, why you resist my mere existence here. You don’t have to like me, I’d just like you to be nice to me a little bit. You’re never going to convince Soap not to pursue anything, so, you’re just going to have to get used to me being around.”

The corners of his eyes crease. It’s a half a second of movement, but you manage to catch it. He finally lifts his gaze to meet yours, eyes emotionless as they usually are when they look at you.

“I still don’t forgive you for what you did.” You say, staring up at him. “And I don’t trust you,” You pull your knees up to your chest. “But I suppose I was also a bit at fault, saying those things to you.”

“I deserved it.” He says. “I was being a dick.”

Your brows raise as you stare at him. “Are you...apologizing?”

“Don’t rub it in.” He says, the warning clear in his tone.

“Well, I guess it’s a start.” You say. “I should probably get back to bed before Gaz notices I’m gone.”

Ghost lets out a huff. “I’m surprised you escaped without him noticing.”

You shrug, pushing yourself up to stand slowly. “He’s snuggling a stuffed strawberry right now, so...that probably says a lot about one of us and I’m not sure which is worse.”

“Come on.” Ghost motions with his head. “Last thing we need is another panic at 2 am.”

“Another panic?” You ask, dropping your voice to a whisper as you leave the rec room.

Ghost chuckles. “You’ll have to ask Johnny about that one.”

You stare at him for a moment as you stand in front of your cracked door. “Goodnight, Ghost.”

He nods to you before you slip in, closing and locking the door. He stands there, listening to the bed shift as you crawl back into Kyle’s hold. He can picture the way the beta’s limbs coil around you like a snake. Would you lie facing him and cling to him like a koala? Or would you prefer facing away from him, letting him envelop you in a feeling of security and protection?

Ghost shakes his head, inhaling the faint whiff of your scent still in the air before he turns, staring at his door for a moment before moving back down the hall, slipping into Johnny’s room instead.

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 #tf 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o

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hughmanbean · 10 months ago

Text

Loving Threats

Inspired by a song and its remake. But I am trash at syncing lyrics to storybeats.

Danny and Jason met in the ghost zone when Jason was dead, but he forgot it all coming back to life. When the two of them were together, they went through the entire song and dance (literally) of asking each other out.

I'm serious. There were like 10 different musical scenes with varying themes. It was Fenton Romance at its finest. And Jason's old school romance heart was certainly played a large part too.

It was their love language. Dramatic acts, vague threats and all.

Post revival and reconnection with the Batfam, Jason spots a familiar face. A flood of memories wash through him, and with it a bout of giddiness. Though he's currently dressed as Red Hood, Danny'll be able to tell who he is and keep quiet. Just have to greet him in a way that he'll recognize.

---

Danny is out taking the kids for a walk. Dan was grumpy since he wasn't allowed any ecto chips, for both his health and as punishment for severely beating a guy who tried to mug Danny without permission yesterday. Ellie is quite cheerful, since she's going to visit the Crocodile and Zombie sewer-dudes when Danny's not looking.

All of a sudden, Red Hood, casually wielding a gun, approaches Danny. He makes an overly familiar gesture, wrapping an arm sideways around Danny's waist. He whistles under the hood, a faint green glow from the white eyespaces.

"Well who do we have here? You look half dead, honey."

Danny looked at him. Horrible pick up line? Check? Thin veneer of confidence? Check. Zero self control around Danny? Check.

Jason. The rancid ecto signature is new, though. Honestly, not surprised he's a crime lord now.

"Well, you know how it is. The kids have been running me ragged. And you sure haven't been any help."

Danny puts on an innocent smile. Jason sidles closer. A few bystanders watch them with varied expressions.

"Well you don't need to worry about that now. How about you and I go somewhere more private?"

---

"A crime boss, huh?"

Dan is raiding the fridge. Ellie is watching a fight on TV.

"It was a... necessary step. I promise I would've visited you sooner if I had known."

"It's fine. What else happened while you were gone?"

"Well..."

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #The Drama Kid Jason #Meets Commit To The Bit Danny #de aged ellie #de aged dan #danny is mama #dead on main #Jason sees Danny and goes for it no hesitation #I want to make this work but I am struggling #I had this in my drafts for two whole weeks #Basic gist/outline was Jason greeting Danny and Danny reciprocating #While everyone else saw it as Jason losing a bit of sanity around Danny - Batfam #Or the Red Hood coercing a civilian to date him using his kids as bargaining chips - Other #misunderstanding

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imaginedisish · 3 months ago

Text

The Promise (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Short and sweet...or rather...incredibly spicy. Here's the *Logan catches you...touching yourself* fic. Couldn't think of a song until the end of writing this one. Went with "The Promise" by When in Rome. Also, if I'm messing up with the tag list I am so sorry. Anyway, ENJOY!

Summary: You want to relax after a long day, so you decide to let off some steam alone in your room. But, you're not as alone as you think. Logan can hear you loud and clear...and he's happy to help.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!! SMUT!!! Masturbation (f!), oral (f!receiving), fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), porn with NO PLOT, softdom!Logan, cocky!Logan, Logan is def not respecting personal space here, friends to lovers, feelings, afab!reader/fem!reader, cursing, prob some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 2,588 this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written

Finally. You’re in your room. Alone. Today had been exhausting. It was drill after drill, class after class, until your eyes stung and your muscles were beyond sore. But now, all there is to worry about is the mattress at your back and the blankets you’ve pulled up to your chin…

…Save for that itch, that ache growing between your legs. You had been able to ignore it before, when Logan had you pinned to the wall during one of your drills in the danger room. He caged you in, arms above your head. Gotcha, princess, he whispered, and walked away. You tried to brush off the way your heart fluttered in your chest, tried to shove down the ache that was building in your belly. Logan was your friend—nothing more.

But now that you’re finally alone, it’s too much. You let your hand trail down your body, pushing past the waistband of your shorts and inside your panties. You close your eyes and think of Logan as your fingertips brush your clit. You picture him standing at the edge of your bed, climbing on top of you.

“F-fuck,” you stutter, working your clit, drawing tight circles, imagining it’s Logan’s hand instead—exploring your folds, spreading your slick, dipping his fingers into your entrance. You whisper his name as you think of him crawling down your body and settling in between your thighs, burying his face into your cunt.

You imagine what his tongue feels like, lapping at you, flicking your clit. “Logan,” you moan, louder this time, thinking no one can hear you.

Logan walks down the hall. He can hear your voice, soft and small through the slight crack in your door. You must’ve forgotten to close it all the way. It almost sounds like you’re singing, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the thought.

But then he hears his name.

“Logan.” It’s a whisper, a faint call. He thinks maybe you can hear him down the hall—that maybe you need help, maybe something’s wrong. He steps towards your room, furrowing his brows as he listens carefully, using his heightened senses.

“Logan,” you moan again. And he hears it all this time—hears your breathy whines, your legs pushing against the mattress. And fuck, he can smell you. Wet. Aching. His cock hardens at the thought of you getting off to him, his erection straining against his jeans. He walks closer to your door, his steps tentative and quiet.

Your door is almost closed—the latch just touching the frame. The light from your room casts a thin line across the darkened hallway. It’s warm and glowy, and Logan can feel it pulling him in—can feel it begging him to push the door open and head inside. He holds himself back, resigning himself to listening to your soft murmurs and drunken mumbles.

But then you’re calling his name again.

“Logan,” you whimper, your circles quickening, your walls fluttering around nothing. You imagine him fucking into you, spreading you out and stretching you open. You wish he’d come in here and touch you, take you, make you feel good.

Logan’s cock throbs, his jeans suddenly far too tight. He can tell you’re getting closer, your breathing becoming short and frantic. He knows he shouldn’t, but he pushes the door open just a touch more. You’re in the center of the bed, eyes shut tight, head thrown back, hand underneath the blanket and stuffed inside your panties.

“N-need you,” you stutter. You need him to really touch you—need to feel his body against yours. Need to—

You suddenly hear your door shut, and your eyes fly open.

Logan is at the edge of your bed, his hands pressing into the mattress, white-knuckling the sheets as he looks up at you under half-lidded eyes.

“How long were you—” “I heard everything, pretty girl,” Logan growls, his shoulders tight, his brows furrowed. He’s holding back, restraining himself. “Heard you calling my name.” “I-I…” You trail off, heat spreading across your chest. You don’t know what to say, or how to get yourself out of this.

“You what, princess?” Logan teases, climbing onto the mattress. “You want me that bad?” He slowly pulls the covers down, revealing your bare thighs. “Want me so bad you’re thinking about me when you touch yourself? Saying my name even when I’m not around?”

He tugs the blanket down farther, your legs on full display for him. “Logan,” you choke, catching your breath. “I didn’t mean to—”

But he’s crawling up your body, grabbing your legs, and tugging you down the mattress. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he soothes, his big hands pushing apart your legs, his palms splaying on the inside of your thighs. “I want you too.” His hands trail up to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers hooking inside. “You want me to take care of you?”

You swallow harshly. “Y-yes,” you stammer. “Please.”

He strips your shorts and panties from your legs, casting them to the floor. “What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself, hm?” He asks, settling in between your thighs. He brings an arm up and over your hips, gluing your lower half to the mattress.

“You,” you mumble.

Logan cocks his head to the side and smirks. “I know that pretty girl,” he husks, his free hand sliding towards your core. “But what were you thinking about?” His thumb finally finds your clit and strokes lightly.

“Th-that,” you moan as he draws tight circles around the bud.

“Just this?” He asks teasingly, holding you down as you squirm involuntarily underneath him.

“More…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed as Logan’s circles become faster.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” Logan demands, his touch slipping away. Your eyes flutter back open, and Logan’s thumb finds your clit again. “Now tell me what you want.”

You swallow harshly, waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You need more, and you’ll take anything he’s willing to give you. “W-want your tongue,” you finally choke out.

“Yeah?” Logan teases, bringing his face down to your heat. “This what you wanted?” He licks a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “That feel good?” He’s lapping at you, his tongue dragging through your slit, flicking your bud and drawing tight circles.

“Yes,” you pant, struggling to keep your eyes open. His face is buried inside your cunt, eating you out like a starved man. The sight is unseemly: his disheveled hair, the way he’s swallowing you whole. “Feels so good, Logan.”

He smirks against you. “Such a good pussy,” he mutters, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. “Tastes so fucking good.” His fingers trail up your inner thigh, climbing higher, finding your folds.

“Please,” you beg, his gaze meeting yours.

“Please what, princess?” He asks, looking deeply into your eyes as he sucks on your clit again, rougher this time. Your eyes flutter shut. “Thought I told you to keep those pretty eyes open,” he commands, and you listen.

“W-want your fingers,” you moan, forcing your eyes to stay open as Logan mercilessly flicks your clit with his tongue.

And then he’s thrusting two long fingers deep inside you. You curse under your breath as he stretches you out. “So wet,” Logan growls against your core, pulling out only to shove his fingers back in—somehow deeper this time. “So beautiful like this, always so beautiful.”

Your walls flutter around him, his words weakening your resolve. He pumps in and out of you, his fingers scissoring deep inside. He takes your clit back between his lips and sucks long and hard, his teeth grazing your bud as he latches on and lets go. It’s overwhelming—the way he fucks into you, the way he laps at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Lo,” you whine, clenching down on his fingers as he sinks deeper inside you. His pumps become faster, his fingers shoving in and out again and again.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he soothes, the flick of his tongue goading you along. “Could smell how much you needed me from the hallway,” he says between laps. “Know you’re getting close for me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you whimper, his words driving you closer to the edge. It’s all too much. Him, suddenly being here, with you. Devouring you. Wanting you. Needing you. Yes, that’s it. Need. His face buried between your legs; his nose pressed just above your clit. His fingers dragging along your walls. He’s consuming you. Dying to be inside you—to be as close as he can possibly get.

“That’s it, darlin’. Let go.”

And then you’re coming undone, pleasure wracking through your body, fire lighting down your spine. Everything is dizzying and warm, white-hot heat flooding your vision, stars dancing before your eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan grunts against you, lapping up your juices. “So fucking good. Did so good for me.” His fingers slow inside you and gently pull out, but his tongue is still working at you. He pushes through your folds, savoring the taste of you.

“Lo,” you groan, squirming underneath him. “Need you now.”

“You have me,” he mutters against you, the vibrations of his voice wracking your already overstimulated clit.

“But…” you trail off, the tension building back up between your legs. “N-need you. Please.”

He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up at you. “Say it,” he demands, your release glistening on his chin. “Tell me exactly what you need.” He climbs up your body. “Go on,” he teases, hiking your shirt up your stomach, pushing it over your tits. He smirks when he sees that you have no bra on—your breasts bare before him. His hands trail up to your chest, massaging gently, pinching your nipples.

You curse under your breath, instinctually spreading your legs. “Need you to fuck me,” you whisper, and Logan grins.

His touch disappears from your body, his hands finding the hem of his beater as he sits back on his knees. He tugs his shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. He’s perfect, his muscles flexing and contracting as he moves. “Need my cock, pretty girl?” He chides, working at his belt next, tossing it to the side.

“Yes,” you pant, watching as he undoes his button and his zipper, yanking his jeans and boxers down his legs. His erection springs free, and he’s so much bigger than you had anticipated. You bite your lips nervously at the sight.

Logan lowers himself down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand comes down to stroke your hip comfortingly. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, pressing his forehead to yours. His hand leaves your hip and wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your entrance.

You shiver as his tip slides through your folds. He’s so close, his breath fanning across your face. He teases your slit, spreading your slick, nudging against your clit, and slides back down to your entrance.

His lips finally find yours, swallowing your moans as he shoves himself deep inside you, down to the hilt with one thrust. “Fuck,” he grunts, his hand slipping between your bodies to find your clit. “Tight little pussy.” He slides out and plunges back in, drawing circles around your bud. “So fucking warm, so perfect,” he whispers against your lips, pressing another kiss as he sets his pace.

He starts out slow, his hips rhythmically rocking against yours. He’s filling you up, splitting you open with every pump. You curse under your breath as his cock drags along your walls. “Feels so good, Lo,” you moan.

His thumb strokes your clit as he fucks into you, faster now. He’s hitting that sweet spot deep inside with every thrust. “Is this what you were thinking about when you were getting yourself off, pretty girl?” Logan grunts, slamming into you. “Thinking about me fucking you just like this?”

“Yes,” you cry out, your muscles contracting around him. “Always thinking about you.”

Logan smiles against your lips, his eyes dark with lust as he pumps in and out. “Bet you wanted me to hear you,” he huffs, his thumb pressing harder against your clit, his circles becoming rapid and frantic. “Bet you left that door open on purpose.”

You whine a yes as he pounds into you, his lips trailing down your jaw to your neck, biting your pulse point and kissing away the sting his teeth leave behind. You can feel yourself getting closer, already fucked out beyond all thought. All you can think about is Logan and the way he’s stuffing himself inside you, pushing deeper and deeper.

“Needed you too, beautiful,” Logan whispers at the shell of your ear, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing against the walls of your room. “Needed you this whole time.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, giving him more leverage to sink deeper inside you. Your arms find purchase around his back, your nails digging into his bare skin. Logan pinches your clit roughly in between his tight, rapid circles, and you moan his name.

“I know, darlin’,” he soothes, his hips bucking, his cock twitching inside you. “Can feel you squeezing me, know you’re already close.”

“Just feels so good,” you moan as he drills into you relentlessly. “Don’t want you to stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, flicking your clit. “Don’t think I can, pretty girl.” He twitches inside you again, and you know he’s close too. He throbs against your walls, pulling out and thrusting all the way back in.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he praises. He’s still stretching you out with every pump, splitting you open. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, your walls fluttering around him. You can feel yourself slipping, letting go as he slams into you.

“That’s it, I’ve got you,” he coos, circling your clit. “Come on my cock, just like that.”

Logan thrusts into you again, bottoming out, and the tension snaps. Everything is bliss and searing pleasure. Hazy and blurred. It’s all too much, your eyes welling up as your orgasm rips through you. You blink back your tears. Logan kisses your forehead, his pace faltering as you come undone around him.

“Wanted you this whole time,” he groans, his hips stuttering. “So fucking beautiful,” he husks. “So perfect.” You pull him closer as he comes inside you, filling you up and painting your walls. Logan moans your name, looking deep into your eyes as he finishes.

His hips stall inside you, his thumb stroking your clit gently, riding out your orgasms, letting you down easy from your high.

He notices the single tear sliding down your cheek and brings his hand up from your clit to wipe it away. “You okay?” He asks, concern painted across his face. He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, his arm wrapping around your back to pull you into his chest.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed. “M’perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into the center of Logan’s chest. He rolls you onto your side, tugging you closer, his cock still half-hard inside you. “Can you stay with me?” You ask, your voice small and quiet, nervous that he might say no.

“Not going anywhere, pretty girl,” Logan reassures, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I promise.”

tags: @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @xlocalxpunkx @cervvsq @white-wolf-buckaroo @just-a-nightdreamer @wildfloweroutlaw @starfleetteddybear @prettyseaveins @silversprings-mp3 @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @wittyjasontodd @ilysmdovie12 @theasiaabattoir @movhoney @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer

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