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8lyme · 5 months ago

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Heat Rises

Logan Howlett x f!Reader

SUMMARY: The mansion is boiling hot

WARNINGS: excessive use of italicisation, borderline dirty thoughts, makeout scene bc that's the best i can do, maybe ooc bc I fear I imagine Logan a little funnier than he actually is.

a/n: the ac in my room broke and inspiration struck after I doomscrolled through wolverine edits on tiktok ... chat i love men

It was hot. Boiling. Stifling.

You woke up at 2 a.m. drenched in sweat, sucking in a deep breath of hot, stale air. Grogginess fading, you stumble from your bed while pulling of your shirt and pajama pants. You open the door to the bathroom and turn the cold water on in the sink.

The heat was dripping down your back despite your lack of clothing. Overheating and still half-asleep, you stuck your head into the stream of cold water, splashing over your neck and across your shoulders.

You straighten to tie your hair up before turning the water off and running your still cold hands down your arms. The patter of thudding sounded outside your door, and you move to dress in a thin tank top and shorts.

You let your eyes adjust to the light as you began walking down the hallway of the mansion. A few children slipped out of their rooms in similar sweaty conditions to follow you down the staircase and onto the main floor.

Gathered by the professor's office were Scott, Storm, and Jean. The stray young mutants who trailed you settling around them.

"Goodmorning," You call out the the group.

"Do you know who turned this place into a boiler?" Jean asks. You both swipe sweat off your foreheads in sync while you shrug, shaking your head.

"Jesus, my glasses are gonna slide off my face," Scott complains, knocking his head against the wall in exasperation. He was shirtless, (rightfully so) wearing what you guessed were swim trunks.

"Charles is working on it," Jean put a hand on his shoulder, then quickly removing it to wipe his sweat off her hand and down the wall.

You turn to Storm, who was pulling the fabric of her tank top to fan herself off.

"Do we know where Bobby is?" You ask in search of the Iceman. You turned to scan the room, addressing the three students who followed you.

"Pretty sure him and Rogue took off before lights out," a young girl from the floor calls out. Her mutation rubberized her molecules, and her legs were in misshapen puddles - akin to flat stanley - due to the heat.

"Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here," a familiar voice groans loudly from behind you. "Nice shorts." Logan said to you before reaching your side.

"Alright fashion police," you respond in mock annoyance, offering a small smile at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He shot you a wink before turning away. When you caught full sight of him, your face froze and (if possible) more sweat rolled down your spine.

It was sickening how attractive he managed to look in what felt like the inside of an air fryer. Having clearly just woken up, his hair was perfectly tousled into a messier version of his normal tufts. His hair hardly looked damp despite the oiled-up glow he had on his face ...

And torso.

Fuck he was shirtless.

Although you've known Logan for the better part of a year, you unfortunately failed to experience him half-dressed. You'd been in close proximity frequently - sparring and other various training taking a large percent of that. You were friendly with each other, his acknowledgement of you with a nod whenever you walked in a room affirming he didn't hate you. You normally ate breakfast together, often offering the other the last portion of cereal or setting aside an extra cup of coffee for whoever entered the kitchen second. Within the last few months, however, after a particularly unfortunate mission gone wrong in almost every way, your friendship became more affectionate in those 'off the clock' moments.

Quick but firm hugs, slinging his arm over your shoulders, nudging each other with elbows or hips at inside jokes. He'd also been placing a hand on your back or shoulder every time he was in proximity to do so when moving behind you; in the kitchen, during briefings, even while you were grading papers in the library. He would touch your shoulder to let you know he was moving past you or going to sit next to you.

All that is to say you were aware - in theory - he was well built. He was taller and broader than you, so you made an educated guess. Theory proven, but well beyond expectations.

A month ago, you and Scott had stopped at a Texas Roadhouse an hour outside of the city after having spent two weeks clearing out a mutant experimentation lab in eastern Quebec. The plump and shine of the appetizer rolls (that you and Scott had both equally asked for seconds of) had absolutely nothing on Logan.

He damn near glistened. The dim light of the mansion sconces bronzed his skin, cutting him into an even more defined picture for you to look at. His chest expanded with each breath, shoulders and pecs slightly flexing in response. His hands lazed on his hips, if even possible causing the room's shadows to shade in the dips of his biceps and forearms. The veins of his arms just barely covered by the moisture-slicked hair covering his skin. If you had a fork and knife, you would throw them behind you to happily eat a piece of him with your hands.

You had to force yourself to swallow to shock your brain into looking anywhere else. You made an 'eaugh' sound and swiped your hands across your face. You meant it defensively, but you really were dripping into your eyes.

"I feel like I'm being waterboarded," you say disgustedly while wiping your palms on the back of your shorts. Feeling a texture that wasn't fabric, you turned your head. Glancing down, you understood Logan's earlier comment.

These shorts must have been from your freshman year of high school that somehow never got tossed or donated. They were a pair of (very) short, low-cut and dull pink velour Juicy Couture shorts with the word 'Juicy' spelled out in rhinestones on the ass. You actually felt like hurling as your body got even hotter.

You slowly turned your face away from the glittery stones on your booty to unfortunately glance in Scott's direction. His hands covering his mouth to block how obviously he was holding in a laugh.

"Scott, don't even look at me right now," you groan in exasperation, crossing your arms over yourself in attempted modesty. Scott's eyes glitter, and you snap "Keep your mouth shut" at him to no avail.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass?" He snickers. "In rhinestones?"

He's cracking up now with his hands in fists over his mouth. Jean bites a smile away and looks down, shaking to stifle a giggle. You look across the room to the kids who are choking down laughter themselves.

"Oh my fucking God-uh!" you again groan out, covering your eyes. "I really liked Jersey Shore when I was in High School, guys, leave me alone!"

Storm bursts into a laugh that inspires the others to join in. You're cracking up too, mortification disappearing. You glance at Logan through your fingers, who surprisingly seems to be choking back a laugh himself.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan clears his throat. "Save her from embarrassment?"

"Not how it works," She says. "I can't pull cold air or moisture out of this heat to create any snow." She looks at you and winks. "Sorry J-Wow, the shorts are staying on."

Scott about keels over with a snort before Jean thwaps him in the shoulder.

"If we bring you enough bags of ice, could you use that to cool the building down then?" Jean asks.

"In theory," Storm says. "I can stay here with the students to wait for the professor if you all don't mind searching for some. I'll need to conserve energy if I have to create a blizzard out of thin air."

"Copy. Divide and conquer," you say glancing at Logan again. The four of you turn to wander the mansion, but you stop to turn back to Storm.

"Also," you call back to her. "I'm so obviously Snooki."

Scott barks a laugh from the other corridor as you trot after Logan. He turns to meet you with a confused look on his face.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

Logan daydreamed about upper-cutting Scott with his claws unsheathed. He fantasized about throwing him down the stairs and curb-stomping him after. He imagined speeding over him on his own motorcycle and drilling him into the asphalt.

Right now, as your face flushed with embarrassment over your bedazzled booty shorts, he wished he had enacted any of those in reality so he had never, ever, heard Scott say a word about your ass.

Logan was used to waking up in a sweat, heart racing as he yelled out in anger (or fear, he couldn't tell which) from the nightmare that slipped from him the longer his eyes were open.

This time, he awoke uncomfortably hot and sprawled out diagonally above his sheets. He pushed himself up onto his knees and rubbed his eyes. He took a beat to wake himself up and stared at the clock on his nightstand blinking at 2:00 am.

He found it impossibly hotter in the hallway, swiping his palms on his pants every few steps. He regretted not scouring his room for shorts or even a pair of briefs. He moved down the stairs and rounded, following the sound of conversation. He dragged his sweaty palms across his pants again, groaning out; "Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here".

And then he almost tripped over his own feet.

You stood facing away from him, hands clasped on top of your head, in the tiniest clothing humanly possible. You wore a thin, strappy little yellow tank top that ghosted just under your ribs. In the dimmed lighting, your skin glistened, droplets of sweat gliding down your neck, your spine - fucking hell, was your sweat turning him on? - down your lower back, and -

Logan just about stopped in his tracks.

Impossibly tiny pink shorts clung to your ass, riding low on your hips. In glittering rhinestone, the word Juicy was bedazzled over the fabric. He felt like a dumb moth to a flame, trying to look like he wasn't seconds away from using his hands for some workplace misconduct.

"Nice shorts," he managed, trying to shake his head clear.

"Alright fashion police," you smirked up at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He winked at you, turning away to avoid staring at the beads sliding down your collar bone. Trying even harder to not imagine where the droplets would travel next.

Too focused on thinking about anything else in the world other than you, he blinked back into reality after Scott's voice grated his ears.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass? In rhinestones?"

Whatever you or anyone else responds with falls on his deaf ears. The only thing he can hear is the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood. His face tightened and he clenched his jaw.

He coughed to clear his head and interject into whatever conversation he's too furious to tune in to.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan paused, coughing again to catch himself from saying anything related to freezing Scott solid so he can shatter him to pieces. He settled on "Save her from embarrassment?"

Once again, Logan half-listened and half-internally plotted extreme violence, perking back in at the sound of your voice. He turned to you as you catch up with him.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

You declined to continue to explain trash TV to Logan. You settled on "It's entertaining to watch people be out of touch with reality", to which he quipped back a "That's stupid", effectively shutting you up.

The both of you wandered to the kitchen, you fanning yourself as Logan tried not to burst a blood vessel while holding to his willpower to not watch you tilt your head back and exhale while uttering whines of complaint. He decided the amount that his was sweating coupled with the lack of sleep made him delusional. That's why his brain kept trailing back to the same thought: you.

You pulled open the bottom drawer of the fridge, exposing the freezer. The rush of cool air fanned at your skin, and you signed in relief.

"Logan," you call, eyes closed. You waved him over and he leaned next to you.

"Oh my god," he quietly uttered out, eyes closing in relief. "Oh my god, this is better than sex."

You snorted and slapped your hand to your mouth.

"Logan, shut the fuck up" you giggle. He snickers back with you, shoulders shaking.

"Aw man," you groan, staring into the freezer drawer. Inside, there was an empty popsicle box, an half-eaten pint of strawberry ice cream, and an unwrapped ice-cream sandwich with freezer burn. You and Logan met each other's eyes with matching disappointed expressions.

You shut the freezer drawer, straightening up.

"I think there's a freezer in the basement lab," Logan says, sweat instantly beginning to drip down his neck.

"Aw man," you respond, lifting your arms slightly as sweat slides down you as well.

"Come on, bub," He moves around behind you. You feel the familiar ghost of his fingers against your back, but you recoil away at the thought of more heat against your body.

Logan yanked his hand away like he had been burned, gaze raking from you to his hand. You keep walking, not realizing how far behind you he's trailing.

---

He tries to shake it off, he really does. He feels stupid for letting something so small seep into his head and twist his thoughts around.

It's just because it's hot, he thinks to himself. Rationally, yes, he knows that is the answer. And yet he stupidly can't help but overthink every interaction he's had with you.

He masks it with a stony expression. The walk to the elevator is sticky and humid. When you both step in, he strays as far away from you as he can.

You've felt the shift in energy from him. He's pressed against the curved wall, arms crossed over his chest. It's palpable, but you aren't the type to pry when Logan is brooding.

He slips out of the opening doors first, relinquishing in the slightly cooler air of the lab. You trail after.

The air is awkward now. You fumble in your brain for the right words to say to him. 'Are you okay?' doesn't seem to cut it.

You've come to understand Logan. He has a complicated relationship with feelings and is awful at communication. If you don't notice the energy shift and bring it up, it isn't getting spoken about.

You follow him to a white metal crate pressed near a cabinet of saline. It's clasped shut and luckily on wheels. The precipitation on the outside confirming this is what you were looking for.

You place your hands on the corners of the crate to slide it from the wall, but Logan damn near rips it out of your hands. He shoves it across the lab towards the elevator.

You stare at him in shock and confusion. Your thoughts whir as you replay every moment from the entire day, convinced that he's pissed at you. He seems pissed. He's acting pissed.

You reach the elevator just as the door slides open. You're trying to decide if you should say something. Trying to think of a way to approach this in a way that will actually get him to talk. The air in the elevator is thick, more so with his shift in attitude than with heat.

Logan is locking himself inside his head. He can’t organize his thoughts and all he feels is stupidity. He can't understand why he's over analyzing, much less what he's over analyzing.

He doesn't know it's basically radiating off of him. Unaware that you've been staring at him to try and decipher what's wrong.

You utter out "Are you okay?" just to cut through the thick silence (and hopefully the wall he's locked himself in). You're sure he hears you, but the sliding of the door gives him the perfect opportunity to continue to ignore you.

Again, you trail after him. The wheels scrape against the hardwood, a testament to how hard he is pressing into the metal.

You're confused, sweaty, and almost on the verge of nonconsensual tears when you reach Storm and the other kids. The girl from the floor has turned into mostly puddle. Everything besides the tip of her shoulders and up are deflated to the wood. The other kids have spread to the floor themselves.

Logan shoves the crate towards Storm.

"Alright," he says curtly, once again crossing his arms. "Cool this shit down."

You fiddle with your fingers as Storm unlatches the metal. Her eyes gloss over to a milky white while she lifts the lid. The temperature drops almost instantly, and you begin to shiver.

"Done," She says, blinking away the glaze. "Charles said that-"

"Great," Logan cuts her off with a slam of the metal lid. He slides it around before moving back towards the elevator. You glance back and forth between Storm and Logan for a second. When you meet her confused expression, she gestures back towards him.

Ignoring the comfort of your sheets and lack of emotional drainage, you jog after Logan.

---

He huffs at you when you reach his side.

"I can push a metal box by myself," he says dismissively.

"Okay," you say, just to get something in the air. "Am I not allowed to come with you?"

You regret even speaking anyways as he scoffs at you, kicking the crate into the opening of the sliding door. It hits the wall with a loud clang. You flinch, but you're more concerned about him to not slip into the door at the last second.

You hug yourself as you start to shiver. Logan rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and turns away from you to lean against the wall. For the third time tonight.

You are racking your brain. Screaming at yourself to say something, literally any words at all. It feels like you've been panic-searching your thoughts for anything to say for a while.

"Are we not moving?" You ask. You wait for an answer before repeating, calling him by name and moving to stand in front of him.

He huffs before standing straight. After a beat, he says "We're not."

"Shit, how should we -" You start, but are cut of by the metallic unsheathing of Logan's Claws. In a blur he rears back and slices through the door, scraping three parallel lines across the metal.

"Jesus Christ, Logan!" You snap out at him. The glare he gives you while his claws sink into his skin makes you back up into the wall.

"What the hell is your problem?" you say evenly.

He scoffs at you, muttering out "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You just sliced the wall open," You point out, gesturing to said wall. "And you're acting like you're pissed at me"

"You're imagining things," he says back, resuming his position against the wall with his arms folded.

"Oh, that's bullshit. You're literally sulking in the corner and you want to tell me that isn't happening."

Logan stays silent. You almost expect him to turn into the wall so he can pretend to not see you.

"Logan," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "Why can't you be upfront with me? It's very easy to say 'Hey, you pissed me off because of this' or 'Oh, something sparked a bad memory' or, I don't know, 'I don't want to talk about it' "

"I don't want to talk about it," he responds. You smack the back of your head into the wall behind you in exasperation.

"Oh my god, obviously that was just an example. Please just tell me what's wrong."

Logan raises his eyes to meet yours for just a second. You catch his gaze, and you can tell that he wants to tell you. When you quietly say his name he looks away.

"Logan, you’re being mean." Your eyes flick over him, trying to catch any more indication that he'll open up. He stays stoick, stubborn piece of shit. You decide to wait just a moment longer before giving up. If he's going to be this adamant about whatever happened, you aren't about to keep fighting him on it.

"Okay, you’re pissing me off and I give up" You spit, sinking to the floor. You draw your legs up and fold into yourself, the chill of the room sinking into your skin.

It takes a long, awkward amount of time sitting in silence before you her Logan speak.

"You're cold," he states.

"No, I'm not," you say into your arms. Shivering.

"You look cold," he once again states plainly.

"I'm not, stop talking to me."

"I thought you wanted me to talk," Logan retorts at you. You look up at him over your arms, seeing a smug look on his face.

"Yeah, if the words you say are 'Hey, I'm sorry I'm being a dickhead and shoving stuff around and slicing into walls and ignoring you. I'm just thinking about X,Y and Z, which is making me feel X,Y and Z,' and then I would say 'Oh my gosh Logan, I had no idea! I'm so sorry, I wish you told me so I didn't make a big deal out of it because I thought you hated me!" You snap at him, mocking his voice for emphasis.

He blinks at you, and you move your head back into your arms.

"I don't hate you," he says quietly.

"You're acting like it."

"I don't."

The softness in his voice makes you sigh. You decide to take it easy on him, and ask him to come to you.

"What?" he asks, hesitation evident in his tone.

"Can you come sit next to me, please?" You ask softly.

"Why?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"Because I'm cold and you run much warmer than I do."

He moves and sinks down beside you, thankfully. You scooch closer until your arm is against his. The warmth of his body radiates against yours.

"Can you please talk to me?" you break the silence. The smallness in your voice chips away at his resolve, but his pride is still in the way. He's embarrassed enough about being upset in the first place, he can hardly stand (much less find the words) to say anything to you.

"Look, I'll literally cover my eyes so I'm not even looking at you," you offer, covering your eyes with your palms. "Please, just tell me."

"It's stupid," Logan says, pride dwindling down.

"I don't care, I promise. Please, Logan," You plead.

He sighs loudly, searching for the right words. He stutters out a few syllables before managing a sentence.

"In the kitchen earlier, you flinched away from me. I don't know. Didn't feel great."

Your hands dropped from your face. He was staring down at the floor. He looked embarrassed, maybe downright ashamed. You gently placed a hand on his arm.

"Logan, I'm sorry. It was just so hot and I felt all gross and sweaty. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

"Okay," he says, but his eyes never left the floor.

"And that's not stupid. I freak out over the tiniest things in the world."

"Yeah?" he huffs out a small laugh, finally turning to you.

"Yes, duh, I'm a girl. One time you didn't sit in the stool right next to me and I had to suck my tears back in and I thought about it for two days straight," you told him.

"Because I didn't sit next to you?" he teases, and you push off of his arm in mock annoyance.

"Yes, I'm not kidding. I remember once when you came back from a mission you ignored me when I said 'hi' to you on the stairs and locked yourself in your room for almost two days. I was genuinely convinced you wanted me dead and I couldn't function until you'd brought me toast because you thought I was sick."

"You weren't sick?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"No! I thought you wanted me to jump into oncoming traffic!" You laugh at yourself, feeling ridiculous after replaying those few days back in your head.

"Okay, okay, I get what you mean. I don't want you dead, by the way. Never will." His face has relaxed and the tension in the air completely dissipated. You tilted to rest your head on his shoulder, relishing in his body heat and enjoying the comfortable silence.

"Seems like I get you pretty worked up, huh?" Logan smiles to himself, knowing he'll get a rise out of you.

"I'm not answering that," you snort, giving him a side eye.

"Are you kidding me?" He says in a deadpan.

"No! I'm not answering that," you sputter, forcing an even tone out of yourself. "Why'd you get so upset about me moving away from you?" You shoot back.

"I'm not answering that," he says, and you now shove him away jokingly.

"Oh, come on!"

You both start to giggle at each other, needing to look at anywhere except at the other. Weight has been lifted off both of your chests, being stuck in the elevator long forgotten.

"So," Logan speaks, letting the word hang in the air for a second. He wonders if the feelings he's completely sure are mutual should remain unspoken. "Are either of us gonna do anything about," he gestures to the both of you. "Or..."

"Oh man, I was wondering which one of us was going to take the bait first," you giggle out to mask the nervousness settling in your chest. "You almost had me, I never figured you'd say anything."

"Did I?" He asks. You turn to him and meet his gaze, smirking at him. You hum happily after a few seconds, turning away from him to lean on his arm once more.

"So," Logan says again, so you mock him and echo the word back.

"So," he tries again, obviously wanting a certain response from you. You bite, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Oh my god, you can just kiss me. I'm cold, I'm not moving my arms," you say to him, earning a short laugh from him.

Logan moves and scoops you into him, sandwiching your arms between both your bodies. You slide one of your hands up him so that your fingertips reach his collarbone. His nose is just touching yours, and he tilts, barely touching your lips.

"So," he whispers against you. You snort and shove his face away with your free hand.

"Okay, nevermind! Get away from me!" You giggle, Logan following suit.

You feel Logan's hand move to the back of your neck, and you blink at him a few times with a small smile. Finally, he leans down to kiss you. You snake your free hand up to the side of his neck and grasp onto a few tufts of his soft hair. He leans into your touch slightly, so your curl your fingers in response.

One of his arms releases you to brace the floor for support, the other moving to hold you tighter. His fingers splayed across your shoulder blade as you slip your other arm out. You slide your hand up the side of his abdomen, almost moaning when the feeling of his back muscles reach your fingers.

You both pull away for a second to breathe before diving back into each other. Logan pulls you towards him, hand that was on the floor now sliding down your side to squeeze at the flesh of your hips.

He pulls back from you and presses and open mouthed kiss just under your ear. You crane your head back in response while feeling your way up the front of his body. Your fingers dip over the curves of his abs and over his chest, and then slide over his shoulder and down his arms. You think about the glisten of his body earlier in the night, the shadows of his muscular biceps and forearms.

"You and these damn shorts," he groans between the kisses he's now leaving on your collar. You let out a breathy laugh.

"I'll take them off later, they don't even fit," you say, pulling his face up so you can kiss him again.

"I hope you'll let me help," he says into your open mouth, causing you to squeeze your thighs together as you heat up.

The shrieking sound of metal against metal surrounds you both, and you shove Logan off you to scramble to your feet. He moves besides you, claws unsheathed on instinct.

The door of the elevator slowly slides open, coming to a halt while it's halfway open. Charles and Jean were waiting from the outside.

"There you both are," Jean huffs out. "You've been gone for about an hour."

"What time is it?" Logan asks, moving out into the mansion floor and sinking his claws back into his knuckles. You follow behind, the chill coming back to your skin.

"About 4:30 in the morning," Charles replies, gliding away from the opening of the metal door. "I suggest you all get some sleep while it's still early." He looks pointedly at you and Logan before rolling to face Jean.

"Agreed. Goodnight you two," Jean says, moving down the hallway to her room.

You and Logan make your way up the stairs, still buzzing. You stop at his door while he opens it. He turns to face you. Once again, you're back to staring at each other hoping you both can understand what the other is thinking.

"Well, good night Logan," You sigh. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

"You're not coming in?" He says while leaning against the door frame.

"Oh," you begin, a smile nervously making its way to your face. "Well ... I ..."

"I gotta help you with those shorts, remember?"

You can't help the soft laugh that leaves your mouth. You move towards him and step just into the doorway.

"I'll take all the help I can get," You say up at him. He takes the opportunity to wrap you in his arm and move you both through the door.

He turns you both, pressing your back against the wall next to the doorway, shutting the door as he molds his lips into yours. His hand slides under your flimsy yellow tank top as you hear the click of the door lock.

More than likely, neither of you were getting much sleep tonight.

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chososdiscordkitten · 11 months ago

Text

Begging For Attention.

Synopsis: Trying to focus on a work assignment thats due tonight, only Satoru needs your attention.

Pairing: Gojo x Fem!Reader Content: Some plot, established relationship, gojo being too pretty, masturbation, exhibitionism (?), voyeurism (?), cock warming, doggy, a very light sprinkle of manhandling like barely there, cream pie

Dedicated to: this ask, ily🕷️ anon.

MDNI

Satoru always found it rather tedious whenever you’d ‘purposefully’ start working in his presence. Knowing his time was limited as it was- and here you were, typing voraciously in the apartment office.

“Do you need something Satoru?” you sighed, not even bothering to look up from the various pieces of paper in front of you. Being able to feel his gaze on you as you tried working.

Satoru held his hand on the doorknob, dramatically exhaling, “Just miss you s’all.” he mumbled, swinging the door back and forth as you flipped through the various pages, trying to find a specific sentence you had read a few days ago.

You scoffed, placing the various pages onto the desk and typing on the computer again. Satoru kept swinging the door back and forth, a small squeak coming from the hinges every time he moved it. All but telling you to look at him, just look at him and he’ll leave you alone.

Squeak, squeak, squeak-

You exasperated, looking up from the computer with pursed lips, “Satoru.” you called through clenched teeth.

“I said I miss you.”

“I heard you.” you mumbled looking back down to the papers as he exhaled, trying to think of ways to pull your attention from your work.

Satoru smiled, a seemingly smart idea popping into his head as he pulled the door closed- leaving it a smidge open, knowing you'd notice. Hoping you'd call him back just to close the door. But you didn’t- you sighed and kept your eyes on the screen.

It wasn't long till Satoru was back at the door frame, your favorite mug in hand. You flashed your eyes up, noticing he was missing a shirt and was wearing his plaid pj pants very, very low on his hips. “Thirsty?” he asked sweetly, holding the mug in his hand as you scowled.

And Jesus, did he fucking look good. His carved torso looked like he just glazed a light layer of baby oil on the ridges, the light happy trail that was all too visible from how low the band of his pj’s were.

You gulped lightly, “If you're trying to tempt me it won’t work ‘toru.” reaching your hand out to the coffee cup and watching the smirk on his face broaden, as though your declaration was a useless attempt at a lie.

You took the cup from his hand, making sure to keep your eyes on his face. Just to be sure he wouldn’t tempt you.

Gojo smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of your head before leaning down to your ear, “I'll be in bed if you need me.” he mumbled in an alluring tone. Far too close- his lips practically brushing against the shell of your ear.

You shook your shoulders in a shudder- hearing him huff a smile before leaving the room.

It pained you knowing his attempts were somewhat working. Finding yourself skimming the pages and not processing anything that you read. Every blink you took, a half-naked Satoru flashed in your mind.

You sighed, not being able to focus on the document that was due tonight. Blinking your eyes back to the cracked door Gojo left open purposefully. Toying with the idea of abandoning the document that was a quarter away from being done.

You shook off the thought, picking up a pen and staring back down at the stack of meaningless pages. An unknown amount of time that felt like hours passed, still trying to focus on the black ink.

That was till you heard a loud exaggerated moan seep into the room from the little crack of the door. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to think if you were imagining it or not.

That was till you heard another- this time your name practically shouted from the bedroom as your eyes widened.

Muffles of ‘-feeelllsss sooo goood,’ in a pornographic voice spill into the room. Your cheeks tingle realizing this was just another scheme to pull you from your work. You sighed, standing up from the rolling chair and slamming the door shut. Loud enough for Satoru to hear.

Gojo was so loud, that even with the door closed, you could hear your name sprinkled between his ear-splitting whines. The bad part was, you didn't know if he was just pretending or if he was actually jacking off. Even worse was how curious you were to see if he was.

Instead of caving- or keeping up this act of you not being tempted by him, you thought up a way to find out if he was doing what you thought he was doing.

You stood up from the chair, opening the door of the office, and immediately hearing the moans coming from the opened door of your bedroom. Nodding your head disapprovingly as you stepped to the doorframe. Looking into the bedroom and seeing that he was indeed- stroking himself on full display.

With an inhale you stepped into the room, avoiding eye contact and walking to your work bag. “You don't- hah,” Satoru tried saying, stroking himself as you crouched to the ground, pulling out a folder and looking through stray pages. “You don't knock anymore?” he huffed, pressing his head back onto the headboard as you sighed.

You scoffed, “This is my room too, ‘toru.” going through the pages before standing. Looking at him with feigned annoyance, watching as he started smiling. His eyebrows furrowed, dramatizing more whimpers as he reached his free hand out to the empty side of the bed.

Gojo huffed a smile, continuing to stroke himself lazily. His previous orgasm coating his tummy proved to you- he was dedicated to luring you away from your work.

“You look stressed-” he whined with a veiled cunning tone, “Join me~” patting your side of the bed softly. Satoru’s tone grew more and more breathless the more you stared at him, as though he was getting off on being watched.

You gave a warm smile, holding the folder of papers you pretended to look for in your hand. “You look like you're doin’ just fine on your own.” you tilted your head sweetly, watching his expression fall along with the pace his wrist kept.

Taking a step towards the door, “Try and keep it down, kay?” you spoke sweetly, practically being able to see the pout form on his lips as you stepped out of the room. Walking back to the office with a tingle roaming on your cheeks, knowing he did all that just to tempt you.

One thing about Satoru was, you could always count on him to make you feel desired. If you were trying to focus on your work- he still made you know that he wanted you- even if you were ignoring him.

As you settled back into the office chair- you knew that thinking about trying to complete your work was futile. Pretty much being able to hear the cogs in Gojo’s brain churn a few feet away.

It wasn't long before the office door opened, a head full of lily-white hair peeking through the cracked door with a meek smile. A small giggle left his throat as he fully stepped in, noticing he had the courtesy of wiping off his previous mess from his tummy.

Satoru’s cock in full view- uncaring if it was throbbing from how worked up he got from knowing you were watching him.

You inhaled, “Satoru..” muttered through clenched teeth, watching him ease himself into the chair in front of your desk. His cheeks blushed and a light sheen of sweat on his chest. You furrowed your eyebrows, all but asking him what he was doing.

“This is my office too~” he sassed, watching your eyes flash back and forth from his flushed face down to your computer. Gojo lightly placed his hand back onto his shaft, “You're always sooo mean to me-” he inhaled, stroking himself as you tried your very best to keep your eyes on your computer.

Pinching his eyebrows while lightly pumping himself, sighing a small moan as he melted into the chair. “You're dirtying my chair.” You mumbled, pretending to type on your computer.

Satoru let out a pleased half-laugh, thralling his head back and letting out a small moan. “And I'm not- mean to you.” You scoffed, being able to hear the vulgar squelches from his hand.

He exhaled with a light, ‘hah’ biting his lip and jerking himself harsher- “Keep talking-” he grinned with a whimper, “I'm almost-” he inhaled, his chest rising and falling as you scoffed, “M’almost t-there.”

“You’re so nasty ‘toru.” you mumbled, playing into his game and peeking your eyes past the top of your computer, being able to see the very tip of his leaky flushed cock.

Gojo whined a delirious breath, being able to feel your eyes on his skin. He hissed through clenched teeth, “I like when you talk to me like that~”

Though the moans from earlier were all too dramatized and blatantly fake- the ones he was huffing out now were straight from his lungs, unable to filter them as you nodded your head unamused.

Satoru was grunting- showing you he was so fucking close. His wrist shook as he tried to avoid his tip. You could see his chest rising and falling more often, fully expecting him to spill his seed on the floor of your office. Only he pulled his hand away at the very last millisecond, whining desperately as though you were the one edging him.

With a sigh, you looked up from your computer and pursed your lips, knowing he would keep this up till you addressed him. Watching the corners of his mouth curl into an appeased smile, knowing you were close to caving. “What’s your goal here, ‘toru.” you crossed your arms on the desk. His eyes sparkling at your question, being able to see the shine circle his pupil.

A sweet giggle leaves Gojo’s throat knowing you've buckled. “I just wanna feel you~” He pouted. Watching your lip tug up with a scoff.

“You're insufferable.” you laughed, standing up from your chair and watching his face light up.

It was true, the minute he walked in, mug in hand and looking fucking scrumptious- you had discarded this useless idea of working.

The second he whispered that little comment in your ear;

“If you need me-”

Denying him the attention he was so clearly asking for became foreplay. From the second he walked out of the office, you knew it, Gojo knew it. Why keep playing this little charade?

You quirked your head- guiding him to sit in your chair as you hooked your fingers onto the sides of your bottoms. Watching Satoru settle into your chair, “I’m gonna finish this. You stay still till I do.” stepping out of your spoiled panties and watching his eyes light up with excitement. Nodding his head up and down as though he knew what you meant.

Satoru sat impatiently in your chair, waiting for you to step between his knees.

And as you planted your hands on the wooden desk top, Satoru placed one palm on your hip as he held the base of his dribbling cock with the other- awaiting you to sink onto him.

Gojo helped your entrance align with his cockhead, a gasp falling from his lips as he felt your soaked cunt take him in with ease. “You got this wet from jus’ watching’ me?” he huffed, hearing soft whimpers fall from your lips as his length stretched you with a light sting.

“God ‘toru- shut up.” You hissed, feeling his tip brush against your sweet spot in passing. Coaxing a shuddering exhale to leave your lips, Satoru grunted when he felt his cock fully rest inside of you- so ready to feel you drag yourself up from his lap.

Only you didn't. You stayed still and tried getting used to the feeling of his tip twitching inside of you.

With a light sigh, you placed your hands back onto the keyboard, rereading the last sentence you wrote before hesitating to start typing. Satoru scoffed, pressing his chin on your shoulder as his hands held onto the malleable skin of your hips.

“You're not gonna move baby?” he mumbled, huffing a warm breath against your ear as you scoffed.

Satoru shifted his hips beneath you, causing his cock to nudge against your walls. A quiet moan fell from your lips at the movement, “I told you- stay still until I finish this.” you sighed, trying to finish the sloppy sentence on the screen.

He grunted into your ear, frustrated that this was all he would get till you were finished. “You said you wanted to feel-” he shifted his hips again, pushing your hips down onto his cock. Causing you to let out a small moan. “Satoru!” you scolded, being able to feel his cheeks rise against your neck in a smile at your reprimand.

“Okay, okay. I'll behave.” he shuddered, holding your hips with a mean grip as you started typing again.

And Satoru tried, he really did. But with every single little shift of your hips and every hiss of ‘Stop moving.’ Gojo got more, and more impatient.

So to tempt you- yet again. Satoru dipped his hand between your thighs, being able to hear your typing halt and your shoulders tense against his chin. You were about to scold him- but he pressed his fingertips onto your neglected clit softly, a sigh leaving your lips in response with a wave of goosebumps rising on your arms. “Toru-” you gasped, feeling his fingers lazily circle your clit.

“Lemme make you feel good~” he hummed into your ear, being able to feel your cunt clench around his cock in tandem with every little circle he made.

You inhaled, easing your hands off of the keys and closing your eyes. Dissolving in his hands, the one on your hip guiding you to raise yourself a little, sighing as you slowly rose off of his lap.

His fingers made firmer circles on your clit as his hand led you to sink back down onto his cock. And then back up again with small whimpers leaving your lips. Bracing your hands on the edge of the desk as you lazily bounced on his cock.

Gojo inhaled with a small entertained laugh, watching you struggle to keep a set pace, “So much for your little docu-” you clenched your walls at his teasing remark causing him to let out a moan mixed with a hiss.

Satoru only offered quiet exhales and frustrated whimpers at your attempts. Being shoved into the chair with every agonizingly slow bounce you sank onto his cock. Gojo tapped your hip lightly, all but saying to hang on for a second.

You held yourself on the very tip of his cock, the muscles of your walls pulsing against his cockhead. Satoru slightly raised himself from the chair, sliding his cock back into you. His hand guided your hip to bend over the desk, feeling his hips press against the curve of your ass as he bent with you.

Keeping his pace steady on your clit as he ground his hips against you, “f-faster ‘toru-” you moaned as he pressed his forehead onto your nape trying to focus on not cumming already.

Though he denied your request, he quickened the pace of his fingers on your clit.

Gojo let out a small whimper, “I go any faster and I'll c-cum-” he whined, being able to feel you getting closer and closer with every twitch and tremble your cunt reverberated onto his cock.

It wasn't long before you started warning you were close, his slow strokes barely nudging against that sweet spot making your head fuzzy. So close to an orgasm- you could taste it. And Satoru could feel it pulse against his shaft.

Gojo placed the hand on your hip atop yours that was splayed on the wooden top. Whining against your ear as you clenched around him. And that's when Satoru pulled his hips from you, taking a split second to breathe before snapping his hips back into you with a low grunt. Dragging out his cock in a hurry- thrusting back into you and syncing the roll of his hips with the unpatterned movements against your clit. Writhing back into him as his hips drilled into you, Satoru’s breathless whines brushed against your ear, feeling your walls flutter around his shaft.

“Cum inside ‘toru-” you huffed in a breathy moan, feeling his chest press against your back, keeping a relentless pace with his hips. Satoru let out a loud whimper at your words- his fingers stuttering their circles against you.

A fussy breath left his throat as he tried to speak, “m’cumm- im cu-” Gojo tried warning, his eyes squeezed tight and his eyebrows pinched together. Though you couldn't see it, his cheeks were flushed with a rosy pink. A light glaze on his forehead from his efforts of trying not to cum.

Finally unloading himself into you- dense spurts of his seed coating your walls. A low moan fell from your lips at feeling his hand slow against your clit. Incoherent curses littered with whimpers between them were breathed into your ear as he slowed his hips. His seed dared to spill out with every little thrust he took.

Satoru’s pelvis wanted to keep thrusting- wanting to try and ride down from the edged orgasm you milked from him. But in his mind, he needed to get back at you for your earlier denials.

Huffing heavy breaths against the shell of your ear as his hips steadied, keeping his cock nuzzled deep inside of you- fearing the tiniest movement would cause your cunt to start spilling his hard-earned cum. And that? Satoru was not ready for.

So as an effort to keep as much of his thick seed inside of you, he placed his hand back onto your hip. Making sure to keep your cunt still as he eased both of you back onto the chair, your body malleable to his manhandling.

Your thighs spasm lightly as you come down from your orgasm. Feet daring to stumble as he eased down into the chair, holding your hip with his messied hand and the other making sure you didn't move on his lap.

It took a second to realize what Satoru was doing- blinking a few times before realizing he reached his hand to your keyboard, pulling it closer to you with an obvious smile. His breath still tickling your ear as he puffed an amused grin, “Let's just go to the bedroom ‘toru-” you whined, hoping he still had enough in him to keep going.

But the small laugh that was wisped against your ear made you realize that not only- did he have more than enough in him to keep going. But you knew he was just stubborn and cruel enough to do this to you.

His cock refused to soften inside of you, being able to feel his overstimulated cockhead twitch inside your stuffed cunt. Gojo pressed his flushed lips to your ear in a lazy peck, “You said this was due tonight~” he murmured into your ear as he held your hip still with one hand.

“Finish it and then we can play.” He giggled against your ear causing you to shiver in his grasp.

Even if Satoru was the one who was begging for your attention at first- he always made sure you were the one asking for more once he received it.

I almost forgot to post this -.-

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