#reader will rarely go by y/n

[inkypipedreams]

Not Today, Bendy! notes: moving the chapters from my main blog to this one!

“Where is your manager? I demand compensation for the way you’ve been treating me!”

  Oh. The 50-something (Karen) was still going. You perked an eyebrow when you saw the clock; ten minutes now. She must have set the record. You didn’t even remember what the issue was anymore.   “Is this why they hired you? Because you were too slow to understand normal people? Huh? Go get me your manager, freak! I’m going to sue this place!”   This was too good. With only 15 minutes left of your shift and no line in sight, you almost laughed outright as her accusations and threats became more ludicrous. “Sorry, ma’am. Our manager is currently working with a new member of staff. Would you like to call back later?”   She grabbed at your shirt or tried to. You were shielded behind a shelf and cash register, so she only grabbed a couple of water cups. “Get them to me, NOW. The owners are close friends of mine and I could get this place closed!”

“Alright, alright ma’am. I’ll get the manager. Give me one moment,” you said through a forced smile. Your shift was moments away from ending, anyways.   Just as you had said, your manager was helping get the newbie, hired to be a cook, set up, and ready to go. They were not happy when you came back to inform them of a wild Karen.

   “Seriously, Y/N? How long have you been stalling this time? You know it doesn’t reflect well on us when they get home and write yelp reviews,” they groaned. This scene was familiar to both of you; when things were slow like today had been, you were not exactly accommodating when dealing with wild Karens.

  You just shrugged as you took off your hat and apron. “I was bored. We’re so empty lately, and clearly, the poor lady had to get something out of her system. Hey, she broke the record too. 11 minutes and she tried to grab me.”

   “This is a sport for you,” your manager sighed, but you knew they were impressed. Before you came, there was hardly anyone in this shop who could hold against a rude customer and even made sport of it. 

   “Yeah, you know it! Now my shift’s done for the day, so I’m outta here!”   You turned to leave the shop, only faintly hearing the response- “Stop quoting that game!” as you left.

    The moment you stepped outside, you held a hand to your mouth to cover the laughs. Early in your job, you determined that no matter what happened, you would laugh at the customers that came your way. But nobody had tried grabbing you before. It was…well, could that be something one could be charged with?

  ‘Come on…let’s just go home…’ you thought, grumbling slightly. As per the rules of the establishment, you couldn’t park too close to the entrance, but your work was large enough to warrant a larger parking lot. Thus, you had quite a lot of walking to do before making it to your car. The breeze was cool, which you were more than grateful for; at this time of year every cool day was priceless. 

  But…something felt off about today. Maybe you were just being paranoid, but you felt eyes on you the whole walk to your car. But it was bound to happen; it wasn’t like you had just closed.   Once in your car, you opened up your music and decided to play roulette with your songs; shuffling everything in your library. 

   It eased your mind off the moment of paranoia you’d had earlier, and cheered your mood significantly.   “Oh? Hey, a garage sale!” You exclaimed, hastily checking if you could park near the sale you’d found. The job you had wasn’t enough to get nearly everything you wanted, but you learned to find hidden gems in garage sales.   “Welcome! Are you looking for something in particular?” The homeowner greeted you.   “Nah, but I’ll let you know. Thanks!” You waved, immediately finding a box with old cassette tapes and video games. 

   You heard footsteps approaching, but didn’t turn to look. “You’re not gonna find anything overly rare in there. Sorry to disappoint.” 

 “I wasn’t looking for something rare…but if you have something rare, I’d love to see it!” You said, still thumbing through the box.  

   “Alright. By the way, what’s your name? I think I’ve seen you at that fancy chain restaurant down the road.”

  “It’s y/n,” you said with a grin. “What about you? Otherwise, I’ll just call you my game dealer.”

   They laughed heartily, wiping tears away with the sleeves of their hoodie. “You can call me Billie. Yeah, my mom liked vintage names, so…” She shrugged sheepishly, but you waved it off.

  “No worries. I think it’s cool. Like, the name sounds like it could come from my favorite game, so that’s cool.”

  “Ah, right! What game is it? I’m sure I can find something interesting for you,” Billie beamed. 

  You smiled sheepishly. Despite the years- the cosplays, art, and stories that you somehow convinced yourself not to destroy-there were always a little embarrassment. 

  ��Bendy and the Ink Machine. It’s been a favorite of mine for years, and I adore the style.”

  She nodded in understanding. “I have just the game for you then. Don’t worry, I’ll only ask for ten dollars in exchange.”

  Of course, the offer appeared to be..well, a little too good to be true. Especially when what you had purchased turned out to be a typical disc, in a casing that was stripped of the iconic cover and instead covered in child’s sprawl.   “My Best Friend Bendy,” the cover said, though it was debatable due to the nearly unintelligible scrawl. 

   Though you had already agreed to this, the disc heightened your sense of paranoia from earlier, and nothing you did would shake it. 

  The only thing you were able to focus on was getting to your apartment without ending up on the front page. And, once you did, the first thing you decided to do was insert the suspicious disc into the slot on your PC.

 “Ah…dang it!” You cried out, as the apartment plunged into darkness. “What the..what even happened to the lights?!”

   You’d paid all the bills in time, right? There was absolutely no way that you’d miss something as important as the electric bill. Right?

  “Okay…everything’s okay y/n. Just..relax…and get some sleep,” you told yourself. Still, your paranoia came back with full force, and you counted every lucky star you had that you carried a little moth buddy. What had started as a joke now gave you comfort in times like this.

…Apparently.

  But the lights didn’t come back. You could have sworn that at least one door had slammed shut. And your PC was still down!

  “Alright, game,” you huffed, glaring at the lifeless console. “I’m gonna be back, I want you to work!” You shook your head, not wanting to remind yourself of how long it’d been without power.

  “I’m gonna get myself out of this. So yeah! Beat that, game.”

   But you couldn’t do it without a moth hoodie- it matched the keychain!   Did the hoodie look funny and childish? Absolutely. Plus, you weren’t going to be seeing any guests today, so what could go wrong? It didn’t take long for you to get to your bedroom, close the door out of habit, and find the hoodie. Your work clothes were unceremoniously dumped into a hamper, and when you were ready in the comfiest pair of sweatpants and the best hoodie ever, you felt brave enough to go back.

  Reaching for the handle, you froze at the sound of a male voice. Has someone broken in? Was that why everything was so off today?   “...Alright Joey, I’m here. Let’s see if we can find what you wanted me to see.”

  No. No way. There was…how? You had so many questions, and the man now standing next to you seemed the same way.   “Henry…you’re Henry Stein..” you could only gasp.   “What are you doing here?” he asked, glancing around as if expecting a monster to appear in a place it shouldn’t. “I...I don’t know. It…I guess I’m lost. There was this…this garage sale and a game…and oh wow..that sounds weird,” you chuckled. “Umm…since I doubt I can go home through the exit…I guess I could stick around with you.”

  As if waking from a trance, Henry shook his head and held out his hand. “You…seem to know me already, but I’m Henry Stein. I used to work here.”

…Well, this was happening. “The name’s y/n, and I…um…listen you might wanna sit down?”

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, dad bod, mating press, protected -> unprotected, size kink, bręeding, praise, mdni.

it’s something hot about how husband! nanami just isn’t aware of how big he really is.

he’s insanely thick - easily stretching you with only just a few vast inches inviting its way in between your slippery entrance. the rubbery tip of the condom nearly snags against your gripping insides as he moves, hovering his soft weight above you. heavy, rushed pants of breath drag out from each lung as he looks down at you lovingly. just a mere glimpse of you, and he’s already ready to propose to you all over again.

“f.. fuck, sweetheart. hold on t’ me.” he’d grunt with two beefy arms held against either side of you.

curled twines of blond hair paint a nice bushy portion of his chest like a canvas. it starts near his neck before trailing further down toward his plump abdomen. nanami’s tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder, silently gasping at each veiny inch that disappears inside. “k- kento,” you moan, one of your legs hooking around his wide snapping waist. he’s hesitant before his hands pull your legs way up to your chest. “mmp- don’t stop, baby.”

“hah- promise,” he groans through clenched teeth, his jaw locking by the second. the stretch he creates was so good that it’s got nanami falling right into your chest. his body was practically akin to a pillow, and he’s squishing himself on top of you before your cunt squeezes around him. fuck- fuck- fuck- that same word chants in his empty brain, nearly slipping out a hoarse whimper at how slick you coated the entirety of his cock. “c’mon, sweetheart. open for me like ‘y always do. gooood, biiiig stretch for kento.”

but as he’s gradually bucking his unsteady hips into you while gently placing a hand on top of your tummy, the two of you are met with a loud abrupt ‘snaaap!’ sound, and nanami pauses.

literally - the condom pitifully snaps apart, ignoring gravity as the now ruined rubber tightens around his shaft. nanami’s panting in your neck as his entire body quivers over you before he mumbles out a raspy, “o.. oh.. shit.”

it’s rare for him to swear, but at that particular moment, you throbbed, impatiently chewing on the skin that lived on your bottom lip.

your bare heel rubs soothing circles around his tense back muscles as you suddenly meet his lustful gaze.

his eyes - they’re shining almost. the more you peer into his fawn, almond eyes, the more you got lost in his gentle, ardent stare.

“i- it’s okay,” you’d breathlessly mumble, feeling his dick retreat its way out of your sopping pussy. it’s a loud, sobbing ‘pshs’ sound that slops from your vocal pussy before you shakily whimper, “go raw, ken.”

“hah- dirty girl,” he’d groan, pressing three wet open-mouthed kisses against your temple. in immediate response, your body shudders underneath him as you hear as you feel him starting to shuffle.

with a single veiny hand, nanami snatches the snugly-fit condom off of his length before tossing it in the nearby trash bin. “ ‘m not sure if i’d last long…my lo- oh fuuuck.”

nanami’s dead silent.

shallow, shaky breath falls from his rose-colored lips as the v-shaped head of his blushing cock lightly taps against your slobbery cunt.

you’re so soaked, abundantly pouring from all sides as your legs remain prettily spread and folded. nanami himself couldn’t help but stare, openly gawking as he’s slowly creating a nasty full thrust.

just one-

a single thrust that’s making you both fall against each other at once. he’s laid right over your body, being careful not to crush you as he grunts at the occasional clenches of your cunt.

the best way to describe nanami was like a teddy bear, so soft ‘n round from all angles. with him having you in mating press, you’re feeling all of his weight plummet down onto you, each pound of his cock becoming deeper within every swallowing inch. it’s got you speechless, moaning continuously as a few strands of his chest hair collide against your skin.

“mmpf- s.. so big, ‘ken,” you’d moan, twisting your toes in anticipation at the raw friction.

he’s so big - even bigger without the rubber it seemed, and you gasped once you felt his soft foreskin slide its way inside. truth be told though, you’d never get used to his size no matter how many times he’s stuffed you full. your gummy convulsing walls merrily greeted nanami’s shaft as your arms wrapped around his rounded belly. “ugh- there, right fuckin’ thereee.”

“god- woman, you’re just.. huuh- askin’ for another baby,” nanami grumbles, blond brows creasing together as he tenderly rubs a wide palm in a circle around your tummy.

his dick’s thoroughly massaging through you perfectly, and he’s sucking his teeth at the natural feeling. your slickness coats him so good, and he’s still got you in the lewdest mating press with your knees shoved against your chest. “ ‘s that what you want, princess?” and as he speaks, his voice lowers, feeling your tummy anxiously tuck inward. “you’d look so pretty again all plump.”

with a look of meek, you cup his face, gently stroking a thumb over the crack of his parted, pouty lips. “mhm-” you’d nod, holding in a gasp once he presents your pussy with one vigorous thrust.

it’s sharp- and you whimper at how his cockhead slammed itself deep against your clit. as your thighs frantically shook, nanami holds them up before playfully tilting his head at your response.

“mhm?” he repeats your little mumble, a hiss nearly slipping through his clenched teeth as he pulls out before sloppily pulling back in.

the slimy squelches that followed were just the definition of wet. each dramatic-sounding squelch that yelped out between your legs had nanami on the verge of shooting blanks right then and there. not just there and there but inside you, too.

as dewdrops of sweat dribble from all sides of his head, nanami presses a sticky wet kiss against the crevice of your mouth. “use those pretty words, i wanna.. wanna hear my sloppy wife talk to me nice.”

“k— kentooo, please,” you’d whimper, writhing underneath his soft body. he’s pressed up against you, practically suffocating your body with his huggable warmth. each barreling inch he spent inside you had you drooling from the inside of your mouth. nanami hums, sneaking a kiss on your damp lips before feeling you claw a hand down his chiseled back. “hah- cum inside. f- fuck me.”

exactly at your sweet pleading words, you felt his dick throb inside of you. it’s more of a sporadic twitch, and it makes you let off a cute ‘ooooh!’

nanami slumps his head in between your sore jiggling breasts, sliding a tongue down the crack of your chest before groaning. “f.. fuck, when you ask me like that, can’t r- resist, honey,” and his voice dripped with such sensuous desire. nanami’s shaft greedily kisses its way against your pearled clit before his entire body erupts into vicious shakes.

he knew he wouldn’t last long at all - especially raw because once he’s starting to swell from the very tip, he’s gutturally groaning right between your tits. gluey golden strands of hair tickled against you as he’s cumming hard, whimpering into your chest.

nanami’s entire body quakes violently, and his thrusts switch from rhythmic to pathetically sloppy within seconds..

even still, you’re folded in such a pretty way, taking each slobbery drop that fills into your cunt deeply, and you moaned once his dripping tongue glides a path down toward your sensitive nipples. “mmph-” he’d grunt, muffling himself as he’s still dumping such a thick load.

nanami guides a hand down between your legs, smearing the back of his wedding ring against your flooding pussy. with a loud pop! your nipple wetly plops out between his lips and he holds still.

“take it, sweetheart. ‘s all for you,” nanami lowly whispers against your clammy chest, his heavy eyelids flapping shut. your warmth - it’s so balmy inside, and he’s already shuddering once his leaky tip sprinkles the final remnants of cum deep into your womb. it leaves a beautiful dry taste in his mouth, and nanami uses a thumb to spread a flap of your folds apart. “she’s s- so pretty.”

“f- fuck..” you’d suck in a airy moan, panting at the pitching faint spurts of wetness that echoes through your ears. gooey, thin torrents of cum run down the opening of your cunt as he pulls out, and you gasp once nanami suddenly flips you over.

now - you’re laid on your chest with your hips raised, ass arched up, and your neck most certainly raised.

“hah- forgive…me,” nanami throatily murmurs, using the back of his wedding ring once more to slither down your cream-coated pussy. his tone, it’s far lower this time—raspy with a bit of a smoky airiness to it.

oh- you were just an entire mess. he’s already licking his lips as he takes in the beauty of his wife’s backside, immediately feeling his sensitive dick twitch at the coarse, arching sight.

the way his cum just messily cascades down between your syrupy slit, splattering onto the silk white sheets in the process - he wanted more..

nanami hungrily rolls out his tongue before licking your pussy from top to bottom—shamelessly relishing in his bittersweet taste that soaks against his sizzling buds. the viscous mess glitters a sheeny filthy coat onto his pursed lips before he huffs, sitting back up.

with a soft little tap, you whine, feeling the familiar upturned curve of nanami’s hardened tip smack against your cum-slobbering entrance again and again..

“arch a bit more for me. atta girl, mhm- let’s.. hah- aim for triplets this time, my love..”

[pandorablues]

Dear God, this was the best thing I've read in a hot fucking minute.

it's nice to have a friend | theodore nott x reader

song; it's nice to have a friend [taylor swift] pairing; theodore nott x fem!wallflower!muggle-born!reader genre; s2l, angst, hurt comfort, fluff word count; 7,8k timeline; subsidiary 8th year warnings; swearing, reference to incestual rape, anxiety, nightmares, daddy issues, mommy issues, smoking, abusive mother, abusive grandfather, attachment issues, references to theo's mum's death, references to sex summary; elusive and unknown, you slunk along the walls of hogwarts without ever being noticed. that was, until, a boy who everybody knew spotted you

sorry i'm just so obsessed with the idea of a muggle-born who comes back to hogwarts after being in hiding atm

masterlist

"feels like home, stay in bed the whole weekend."

————————————————

Who was Y/N L/N?

Many would frown at that question, saying that they had no idea who that was, even if they had shared a vast number of classes with you throughout the years. Some others would pause, and ponder, as the name rung a bell but they just could not put a face to it. The rare few would answer, "Oh, I know her! Never heard her talk though." And that was all there was to it, really.

You had flown under the radar for many years— which had been enormously useful when you had to go into hiding as a muggle-born— but you weren't exactly a nobody. You were the girl at the back of class, who always had a hood over your head, always had dark circles around your eyes: a mixture of eye bags and your smudged days-old black eyeliner. The girl who disappeared after class for a cigarette out of the window of an abandoned part of the castle. The girl who was almost never at meals— at least not at the typical times.

You were an enigma to anyone who actually knew you, which essentially only included your dorm mates. They had tried to befriend you initially, but you were distant and asocial: they were still friendly with you, but they had learned not to push or pry. Thankfully, none of them had taken it personally.

But being so unknown had been incredibly useful while you were in hiding from Voldemort. It was unlikely he knew you existed— nor would anyone he interrogated about existing muggle-borns and their whereabouts. Thus, you returned to Hogwarts after his defeat for the subsidiary eighth year completely unharmed. You hadn't changed at all in the time, apart from a few more piercings, tattoos and freshly dyed hair.

It felt surreal being able to sit on the window sill of your favourite castle smoke spot again, as no matter how little friends you had at Hogwarts, you felt peaceful there. You had missed it sorely.

Taking a drag from your cigarette, you held the harsh smoke within your lungs and gazed at the cloudy view of Scotland, feeling tranquil. That was, until, you heard footsteps, which made you freeze. You internally prayed that it was neither a professor nor a prefect— but this part of the castle was abandoned, and it wasn't even close to curfew yet, so you didn't see how it could be. Cautiously, you peered around as the footsteps came to a halt, to see a Slytherin boy from your year pausing as he caught sight of you with a cigarette in hand.

Theodore Nott. Everyone knew who he was, including you, and because of that you let relief wash over you: he wouldn't snitch, you were pretty sure that he smoked himself.

He tilted his head at you, clearly with no recognition in his eyes.

"This is my smoke spot," he said simply, hands in his pockets. He had discovered the spot the year prior, when his smoking had become a serious habit, partially due to the depressing atmosphere that the war created.

You stared at him, not saying a word.

"Who are you?"

Releasing a sigh, you turned back to face the view, "Y/N L/N. And I came here long before you, Nott."

You felt the burn of his gaze on your back, and then heard him move closer to you until he sat next to you on the large windowsill. "You know who I am."

"We only had classes together for six years."

He seemed to mull over those words for a few moments. "I've never seen you before."

"Not many have," you shrugged, taking another long toke of your cigarette.

Nott didn't have a response for that, instead pulling out his baccy pouch and beginning to roll. You weren't necessarily happy about the intrusion on your alone time, but you didn't own that windowsill, and you weren't about to waste the rest of your cigarette.

Eventually, once he had lit up his own, he spoke again, "You're a muggle-born."

You quirked an eyebrow, which he probably couldn't see under your hood, but he explained how he knew regardless.

"That's why I never saw you here- at this spot- last year."

Nodding in confirmation, you breathed out smoke, watching as it dissipated into the breeze. The two of you settled into silence as you smoked, which you found to be an immense relief. You didn't like talking, you didn't like people knowing things about you. You weren't shy, like your dorm mates thought, you had just learned throughout your life that saying too much had negative consequences.

Finally, your cigarette burned to the filter, and you put it out next to you before flicking it out the window. You stood up and looked at Nott, who was still smoking, unsure of how to end the peculiar interaction.

"I would say you'll see me around, but no one ever does," you finally said, shoving your hands in your pockets and leaving without waiting for a reply. You hadn't said it in an attention-seeking self-pitying way— you had stated it nonchalantly, as it was a fact.

Nott watched you curiously as you disappeared.

***

The next morning, instead of going to breakfast, you went straight to your smoke spot. You never ate in the mornings, it didn't sit right with your stomach. Only, when you climbed the last step to the abandoned tower, you saw that it was already occupied by the same Slytherin from yesterday. His gaze flicked to you as he heard your approach.

As much as you wanted to just turn around and find another smoke spot, you didn't have enough time before your first lesson, and your nicotine addiction needed satiating. So, reluctantly, you took a seat on the windowsill and began rolling as Nott puffed away next to you.

"Good morning," he said as you glided your tongue along the paper.

You glanced up, muttering a, "Morning," before focusing on your cigarette again.

"Are you in my DADA?" he asked.

You gave a curt nod: it was your first lesson back that day.

He hummed absently, putting his cigarette out, but not moving from where he was sat. You said nothing on the matter, hoping to Merlin that he wasn't waiting for you in order to walk to the lesson together.

You began reaching around in your pockets for your lighter, cursing when you couldn't find it. Just as you were about to pull out your wand as a substitute, Nott was holding a lighter out towards you. You narrowed your eyes at him: you used a lighter out of the habit you had developed while living as a muggle the last year, but why would he use one?

As if sensing your confusion, he supplied your answer, "It's more satisfying."

It was strange to see a pure-blood who wasn't against anything and everything muggle, but you accepted his lighter, a strange sensation washing over you as you did so. It felt like you had just made an oath of some sort, agreed to something you didn't know the terms of— like something had now been sealed between the two of you. Pushing that thought aside, you took your first drag, letting the familiar contentment that nicotine provided take over you.

"Thanks," you murmured, handing the lighter back to him.

There was nothing but silence as you smoked, not another word said even as you finished and went to stand up. He stood up, too, and it was then that your fears were confirmed: he was going to walk with you to the lesson. You supposed it was probably just politeness, but Nott had never struck you as someone who cared about that sort of thing. He, like the other Slytherin boys, was known for his quick temper and rude disposition. But for all you knew he could have changed in the year that you were gone.

You didn't ask— you seldom asked questions, no matter how curious you were. Instead, you allowed him to walk alongside you without complaint, subconsciously adjusting the bag strap on your shoulder.

When you reached the classroom without having exchanged a word, Nott's friends— Riddle and Zabini— approached and greeted him. They didn't notice you, which was expected, so you took the opportunity to slink away to your seat at the back of class. You felt Nott's eyes linger on you as you went, but paid no mind to it, refusing to turn around and look at him.

The professor called attention to the room.

"From what I understand, you all made contact with a boggart back in third year," she began, "Obviously it has been sometime, and in order to ease you back into Defence Against the Dark Arts after learning the Dark Arts, I think it would be a good idea to revisit some basics."

There were murmurs of fear and excitement as she pulled forward a cupboard, much like the one from third year.

"Everyone, form a queue," she said, "Do you remember the charm to counteract a boggart?"

Hermione Granger's hand instantly shot up, and the professor gestured for her to answer.

"Riddikulus."

"Excellent!" she smiled, "Let's begin, shall we?"

You had taken a position in the middle of the queue, and watched as the first people faced their fears and turned them into something ridiculous. Laughter began rippling throughout the classroom, and you even felt your lips curving up ever so slightly. But, when it came to your turn, your face went completely solemn.

You watched as what had been a massive snake from the previous person morphed into a reflection of yourself: only, it wasn't you. You would never wear such a glamorous and expensive dress, and you would never have such a wide smile on your face as flashing cameras surrounded you. Clenching your jaw, you watched as boggart-you waved and posed for the cameras, and raised your wand.

"Riddikulus," you murmured, and the scene before you unfolded with boggart-you slipping on a banana peel and tearing her dress. Laughter boomed from behind you, and you quickly walked away to the back of the classroom as the next student had their go.

It wasn't long before it was Nott's turn, and for some reason you found yourself paying more attention than you had before. Your eyes followed his movements as the boggart took the form of an older man, who had a stern look on his face. He seemed familiar, and it only took you a few moments to realise that you had seen him in the Daily Prophet after the war. It was Tiberius Nott, a death eater who had been sent to Azkaban for life after Voldemort's defeat— also Theodore Nott's father.

Nott remained emotionless as he faced his father, refusing to react as he raised his wand and muttered the spell. Then, Tiberius Nott was suddenly wearing clown attire, quickly becoming the next laughingstock of the class. Theodore Nott left the front of the queue and came around to the back where you were while Riddle faced the boggart.

"You're afraid of being popular," he stated as he stood beside you.

"You're afraid of your father," you replied— not as an insult, just as a fact.

"Fathers are terrifying when they're death eaters."

You shrugged, "I don't know mine."

Nott eyed you curiously, as he didn't know what to make of you. Not that anyone really did. Before he could say anything else, Riddle was walking towards the both of you. It was of no surprise that he didn't acknowledge you, likely not even noticing you stood there beside his best friend. That was how you liked it, so you moved your attention away from their conversation and watched as Zabini approached the boggart.

When he finished and joined his friends, you heard Riddle ask, "Wanna go for a fag after this?"

Nott agreed easily, whereas Zabini declined.

"L/N," your eyes widened, and you snapped your head in Nott's direction, "You coming?"

"Coming where?" you knew what they were talking about.

"For a smoke," Nott tilted his head towards the door, "After this lesson."

You watched in horror as Riddle and Zabini's eyes settled on you in confusion and lack of recognition, despite the fact a celebrity version of you had just been displayed to the whole class. But, you supposed, celebrity you didn't resemble your natural state all that much.

"No, thanks."

He raised an eyebrow at you, as if he believed that you would definitely be going for a cigarette after the lesson, just not with the Slytherin boys.

The professor called for everyone to sit down as the last person finished with the boggart, and as the three boys walked away from you, you heard Riddle mutter, "Who the fuck is that?" to his friends. With a sigh, you took your seat and got out some parchment, hoping that the interaction wouldn't be the trigger for everyone in the school knowing who you were.

But, had you ever been lucky?

***

It horrified you how easily Nott could spot you in a crowd, as it wasn't something you were used to— in fact, it was something that you had purposefully avoided. But that was no more, as when you entered the Great Hall for dinner, at the usual time as everyone else for once (your hunger had dictated that), he had made eye contact with you and gestured for you to come sit with him. Immediately, you shook your head: you weren't there to make friends, and you weren't about to sit on the Slytherin table as a muggle-born.

When his friends turned to see who he was beckoning over, they scanned the area you were in without their eyes ever landing on you. Not even Zabini or Riddle, who had seen you the other day, noticed you stood by the entrance. So, why was Nott different?

You took the opportunity to take a seat at the Ravenclaw table with your back to the Slytherins, not wanting to further engage. You had experienced more than enough socialisation for a lifetime in the last week, in your opinion. It was probably at least once every couple of days that you happened to venture to the tower smoke spot at the same time as Nott, and part of you wanted to find a new place. Alas, you had developed an attachment to that tower, and the views were remarkably soothing, so you hadn't.

It was why you didn't bother to move when Nott arrived to see you sat on the window sill that evening, after you had disregarded him at dinner.

"Are you really so scared of making friends?" he asked from behind you.

"Why do you care?" you scoffed.

"You intrigue me."

"Forget about me, Nott. I prefer it that way."

He chuckled, "I think forgetting you is impossible."

You clenched your fist, "Why would you want to associate with a mudblood?"

"I don't give a shit about blood purity, L/N," he said, accidentally dropping his lighter. You heard him curse under his breath in Italian, before looking at you again. "Can I ask why?"

"Why what?" you grumbled, taking a puff from your cigarette.

"Why do you keep to yourself?"

You assessed his intentions cautiously, debating how much information you should give him. Eventually, all you said was, "Saying too much has consequences. If people know too much about you, they use it against you."

"Who's they?"

"Everyone."

He shook his head, "But, it's not, though, is it? Who gave you such a warped perception of reality?"

"It may not be your reality, but it's mine."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Why should I tell you?"

Nott shrugged, "I'm just trying to understand you."

"Well, stop trying."

"I won't," he said simply, "But if you're worried about me having something on you, I'll tell you about me so we're even."

"Please don't."

"My mother died when I was quite young," he began, against your will, "Which left me to my father, who you are familiar with."

"Are you looking for pity?"

"No, I don't want your pity," he scowled, "I told you why I'm telling you. Stop being dense."

You frowned at his words.

"Where my mother was sweet and loving, my father was anything but," he explained, "Physically abusive, literally a death eater, punished me if I ever cried."

You focused your eyes on to your cigarette, ashing it with a tap of your finger.

"I won't let him dictate my life. No matter how much I feel like I'm just as bad as him, I can't let it get in the way of having friends and a decent life."

"You're not your father," you said quietly, unsure as to why you were still entertaining this conversation.

"How would you know?"

"Because you're talking to me."

He hummed softly, "So, there, you know about me. You know something I hardly even talk about with my closest friends. Tell me about you."

You thought about it for a couple minutes, mulling over whether or not you should finally share what has hung over you your entire life. Nott remained silent as you finished your cigarette and fought an internal war within yourself. Eventually, you spoke.

"My grandfather abused me when I was young," you said quietly, "Whenever he visited, whenever I went 'round to his. In the night, he would come into my room and-" you cut yourself off.

Nott said nothing, regarding you cautiously.

"He told me not to tell. Not to say a word," you finally continued, "But I told my mum one day, because I was bleeding..." you gestured down to your crotch.

"She didn't believe you?" he asked, his tone gentle.

You chuckled, "Of course not. I tried to ask her to look, to prove that I was bleeding. She wouldn't. Said her father would never do such a thing."

"Sounds like denial."

"I'd bet my life he did the same to her when she was young, and she's blocked it out. That seeing it on me would have brought back memories that she's so desperately shut out."

He nodded.

"She told my grandfather what I'd accused him of, and my life became hell right until I got the letter inviting me to Hogwarts."

"And that's why you think telling people anything is a bad idea."

With a sigh, you stood up, "All honesty and closeness brought me was pain and suffering."

"You've just been honest with me."

"Rowena knows why," you muttered.

"You can't let him haunt you forever."

"He's still alive," you said simply, pinning your eyes on to his face, "Don't tell anyone about this."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

And, strangely, you believed him.

***

After trusting Nott with your life story, you had found a new smoke spot: it didn't have the views or tranquility of the abandoned tower, but it didn't have anyone else either. You saw him in class, and occasionally at meals, and he would always lock eyes with you and give a nod as greeting. Sometimes you returned it, sometimes you didn't. But before long, a couple months had passed, and you were quite secure in the knowledge that he hadn't told anyone your secret nor was he going to use it against you.

You didn't hesitate in signing up to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas, not wanting to face your family. When Voldemort's return had been confirmed, both your mother and grandfather— as your apparent two closest relatives— had been obliviated and sent abroad. Once he was defeated, they were found and given back their memories of you, but you hadn't gone to see them. Instead, you had stayed at Hogwarts over the Summer, helping to rebuild what had been destroyed during the battle. And now, you weren't sure if you could ever go back home. You hadn't seen either of them in years, and had become quite content with the lack of danger over the Summer holidays.

It was the first day of the castle being almost empty, and you made your way down to the Great Hall for lunch. Only one of the house tables was laid with food: the Gryffindor one. It would have been a waste to lay any more tables with so few students present.

You noticed that Nott was sat at the table, and when he saw you enter (the only one who saw you, that was), he gestured for you to sit near him. Maybe it was because he wasn't surrounded by his friends this time, or maybe it was because the food was only on one small section of the table, but you sat opposite him.

"How've you been?" he immediately asked.

Shrugging, you put some sandwiches on your plate, "Same as always."

"You stopped coming to the tower."

You sighed, "I like to smoke alone."

He pursed his lips, but changed the subject, "What are you doing on Christmas day?"

An incredulous look swept across your face, "Same as everyone here."

Nott rolled his eyes, "Even the people who are here open gifts with each other."

"I doubt I'll get any gifts."

"That makes two of us," he replied, "Do you want to do something on Christmas day together?"

"Why?" you frowned at him, "Surely Riddle is here."

He shook his head, "He spends Christmas with the Malfoys. They're cousins, y'know." At your raised eyebrow, he added, "On his mum's side."

"Regardless, I told you I'm not interested in friends."

"There is no obligation of friendship here," he raised his hands up in mock surrender, "You can never talk to me again after these holidays."

Taking in a deep breath, you said, "Fine."

He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but notice how soft and non-threatening he looked with such an expression. It was a rare sight on him.

***

Apparently he had taken your agreement to spend Christmas day with him as an agreement to spend the entire holidays together. Nott joined you for studying in the library, and followed you to your new smoke spot, making you sigh and decide at that point you might as well return to your preferred abandoned tower. He didn't talk a lot of the time, just sat in companionship with you, and you found yourself getting irritated. Not at him, but at the fact you were beginning to feel comfortable in his presence, and experience the urge to seek him out on occasion. It was a foreign feeling: one that you had never allowed yourself to come close to.

But you weren't sure if you wanted to stop it any longer.

The bubble you had become wrapped up in shattered one day when Professor McGonagall, the headmistress, found you in the library and informed you that you had visitors. You looked worriedly over at Nott, realising that for the first time in your life, you didn't want to face a situation alone. Because you had a sneaking suspicion of who it might be.

You stood up, and Nott did too. For once, you were grateful that he was following you around without your permission. McGonagall assessed that you were okay with him coming along, and led the both of you to her office, where you found yourself fidgeting with your fingers as the stairs rose up. Nott placed his hand on yours and squeezed gently before pulling away again, an action so soft and without malice that you damn near broke down on the spot.

Moments later, your fears were confirmed: your mother and grandfather stood before you. They had smiles on their faces, but they looked so forced that you felt sick to your stomach. Subconsciously, you shifted closer to Nott, who had straightened his back and let his typical resting bitch face fall upon him— one of arrogance and threat. McGonagall hadn't come in with you, saying that they wanted to speak with you alone. That was when you had said that Nott was going in with you or you weren't going in.

"Y/N, it's been so long, darling," your mother spoke, making bile rise to your mouth. You swallowed quickly, not returning her smile.

"Why didn't you come home for Christmas?" your grandfather asked, taking a step towards you. Instinctively, you stepped back. He paused and frowned, "We haven't seen you in years, but it's finally safe, is it not?"

It's never safe with you. That's what you wanted to scream, but no words came out.

"We've missed you," your mother added, also taking a step forward. You felt so small in front of them, like you were once again that heartbroken six year old who had just discovered that no one was there for her.

"And who's this?" your grandfather asked, surveying Nott cautiously.

"Theodore Nott," the boy replied through gritted teeth.

"Is this your-?"

You cut your mother off by asking, "Why are you here?"

"We've come to take you home," your grandfather said with a grin that was clearly meant to appear jovial, but to you symbolised the devil's incarnate.

"No," you said as firmly as you could, but your tone held a quiver.

The smile dropped from your grandfather's face, and he turned to Nott once more, "May we have a moment alone?"

"Not a chance," the boy instantly replied, crossing his arms. He was a lot taller than your grandfather.

That was when the eyes of your grandfather darkened to their usual state, and your mother's mouth settled into a grim line.

"I don't know what she's told you," the former spoke, "But none of it is true, she was a very imaginative child-"

Nott cut him off with a scoff, "No child who's had a normal childhood imagines such fucked up things."

Your eyes widened in disbelief at Theo's (when had you started thinking of him as Theo?) bluntness.

"My father would never do such a thing," your mother immediately cut in, "These allegations are extreme and unjust."

"I'm not coming home with you," you said, changing the subject.

"I am your mother," she said curtly, "And you are my child."

"I am an adult now."

You watched as she took a deep breath, "Y/N, we are family. Christmas is for family."

"I never want to see either of you again," you said quietly, your voice feeling separate from your body.

"We should have never let her go here," your grandfather said to your mother, "Her delusions have only been fed."

"The only delusions around here are yours," Theo said sternly, "I think it's best that you leave."

"This is none of your business, boy," the old man before you growled, taking strides towards him. In a flash, Theo had pulled out his wand and held it towards him, causing him to back up out of fear.

"I'd watch your mouth, if I were you. Y/N's welfare is every bit my business as it was meant to be yours."

Your relatives said nothing.

"I believe that everything that needed to be said has been said," he continued, "So we will be leaving. If you try to contact her in any way, shape or form again, I won't hesitate to use dark magic on you."

And with that, Theo wrapped his free arm around you and guided you back to the exit. Only once the door behind you was closed and the stairs were lowering did you realise that your entire body was trembling. All you could think to do was murmur a "thank you" towards Theo, who stroked your arm gently.

Once you reached the bottom, you were faced with McGonagall, who had a deathly serious look about her. You broke down, collapsing to the floor as tears and sobs that you had suppressed for years bubbled to the surface and shook your body violently.

"Get them out of here," Theo said to her, crouching down beside you and taking you into his arms. You accepted the embrace, having not felt one in years, and cried into his chest.

The headmistress nodded, scanning over you one last time.

"I'll take care of her," Theo muttered, and that was all the woman needed to head up the stairs with a look of fury that could ignite nations. You didn't know what she had made of the situation, but she had evidently decided that she didn't like your family. "C'mon," he murmured, helping you up and guiding you in a direction you were too bleary-eyed to register.

Your sobs escalated as the two of you walked, and finally you realised that you were heading down to the dungeons. You heard him say the password to the door before you were led into the Slytherin common room of black and green. He didn't stop there, however, instead taking you down further stairs to where the dormitories were.

It wasn't long before you found yourself curled up on his bed, the other beds in the dorm vacant for Christmas. You rocked back and forth, gripping your knees tightly.

Theo shushed you softly, sitting next to you and pulling you into his side.

"It's okay, angel, you're safe now," he whispered, "I won't let anything happen to you."

"You-" you hiccuped, "-promise?"

"I promise. You never have to see them again."

"P- Pinkie promise?" you held up your pinkie to him, and that was when Theo saw in your eyes that a part of you had never grown out of infancy.

He kissed your head, hooking his finger around yours, "Pinkie promise."

***

Numerous nightmares followed after that day— flashbacks and memories that you had blocked out catching up to you and forcing you to re-live it all. The first night, you pushed through, staying awake after waking yourself up and sobbing under your sheets until the sun came up. You didn't tell Theo why you were so exhausted when he questioned it, showing concern for you, as you didn't want to worry him. But, the second night, when you nervously drifted off and your demons returned, you snapped awake only wanting Theo.

With tears streaming down your face, you crawled out of bed and pulled on your Ravenclaw jersey, before creeping down the dormitory stairs and into the common room. There weren't many people that you could have woken up, but you really didn't want anyone seeing you in your current state. Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the tower door and left, ignoring the statue's questions of where you were headed.

It was a long trip to the Slytherin dungeons from the Ravenclaw tower, and you almost ran into Filch— luckily, you heard him from around the corner and hurriedly went a different direction. Since you were only wearing socks, your footsteps were soundless.

When you reached the portrait into Slytherin, you paused for a moment as you prayed that the password hadn't changed since he took you there two days prior. "Sonoros," you murmured to the painting, which gave you a disapproving look but reluctantly opened the door for you to enter. You scurried in, relieved to see no one was in the common room, and made your way up to the boys' dormitories. When you landed on the eighth years' floor, you pushed open the door and padded over to Theo's bed.

He was sleeping deeply, his remarkably attractive face almost glowing in the moonlight. The sight of someone sleeping reminded you of your night terrors, and more sobs choked out of you, causing you to lurch forward and shake Theo.

"Hmmph?" he grumbled, forcing his eyes open. When he saw you stood beside his bed with puffy cheeks and shaking limbs, he jolted awake. "Principessa, what happened?"

"I had a-" you hiccuped, "-a nightmare."

His gaze softened, and he lifted up the forest green bedsheets to beckon you in. Obliging, you curled up against his warmth and nuzzled your face into his neck. He didn't ask what you dreamt of, instead asking, "Is this why you didn't sleep last night?"

You nodded against him, and he sighed.

"You should have told me," he mumbled, stroking his hand through your hair. And then he talked you softly into a sweet dreamless sleep wrapped in his embrace, feeling safer than you had ever before felt.

***

At dinner the next day, Theo observed you as you picked at your food, clearly nervous about what that night had in store for you.

"Do you want to stay with me again tonight?" he asked, a question which made your eyes open wide.

"Uh..."

"You can stay with me all holiday, if you'd like."

"I..." your instinctive response was to put up your defences, and distance yourself from proximity with any individual. But, you felt the words of rejection get caught in your throat, and realised that there was a new instinct within you fighting with the old one. The part that was attaching itself to Theo, and firming itself into an iron grip that wouldn't let go now that it had finally found something to grasp on to. As the man in question gazed into your eyes, trying to read your body language, you realised that a suppressed part of you had surfaced— and you weren't sure that it could be locked away ever again. "Yes, please," were the words that finally came out: they were quiet, and felt foreign, but they were all you had to offer.

He gave you a soft smile: not the devilish smirk you had seen him give other girls from a distance, seen him use whenever he won a fight. No, it was genuine, with teeth and all. You were smiling back before you could stop yourself.

Theo eyed you curiously, "I've never seen you smile before."

Your breath hitched, "I'm not sure I've ever smiled before."

***

What commenced was a domestic routine. You kept pyjamas and some clothes in Theo's dorm, and you would brush your teeth together. Then, you would get into his bed, waiting until he beckoned for you to curl up to him. At first, you had been awkward about it, but it quickly became an instantaneous act of muscle memory. Theo felt and smelt like home— home. You had never felt at home before, and you certainly had never expected it to be with a person rather than a place. For the longest time, you had assumed that home would be the place you got for yourself after finishing Hogwarts.

Christmas Day started with a snowstorm in the middle of the night, one that had you waking up at dawn to see the layers of white outside the window. The holiday had never been a good day for you: mainly one of loneliness and a lack of gifts. You weren't materialistic, you didn't care about the presents, but that didn't mean you weren't envious of everyone going home to loving families.

But, that Christmas, you awoke in the warmth of Theo's arms, with a sense of peacefulness fulfilling you. His gentle breathing soothed you as he hugged you from behind, and for a while you remained like that, looking out the window at the snow and relishing in Theo's presence. When had he crept his way through your barriers? When had you started allowing it to happen?

"Buon Natale, principessa," you eventually heard him say from behind you, his deep morning voice sending a shiver up your spine.

"Buon Natale," you mimicked, making him smile into your neck.

"That means Merry Christmas," he murmured.

You chuckled softly, "I figured."

"I got something for you," he said, rolling on to his back, which made you turn over to face him.

"You did?"

He hummed, "It's nothing big."

"I got something for you too," you replied, knowing that there was a vinyl sat in your satchel across the room, which you had put in there on an offhand thought that Theo might like it.

"Should we exchange presents before or after Christmas dinner?"

"Before," you said immediately, "I haven't opened a present in years. I'm not waiting any longer."

"Okay, but can we stay in bed a little longer? È così caldo."

Those terms you could easily agree to— even finding yourself smiling fondly at his Italian. It always slipped out more when he was sleepy.

When had you come to know his habits so well?

***

"Merry Christmas," Theo grinned, handing a large velvet box to you as you sat cross-legged on his bed.

"What is it?" you asked cautiously, carefully popping open the lid only to have your breath taken away. A white gold necklace rested before you, with blue sapphires shining on the pendant that hung from it.

At your speechlessness, Theo explained, "It was my mother's. I thought you should have it."

"I can't take this," you said quickly, "It's a family heirloom."

He shrugged, "Then consider yourself as keeping it safe until I have a daughter."

"Is this your way of ensuring I stick around?" you chuckled.

"Maybe. Is that bad?"

You shook your head, "Thank you. It's so pretty— puts my gift to shame."

"Cara mia, it is not about the cost."

With a sigh, you got up and went over to your satchel, pulling out the vinyl that you had treasured and loved for so many years. "It's not much, but I thought you might like it."

You handed the album to him.

"What is it?"

"It is a vinyl. What muggles play music from."

His lips parted in understanding. "You will have to teach me how to use it."

"I will," you agreed, feeling like what you had actually agreed to was being around forever.

"Thank you," he said, "Would you like to try the necklace on?"

"When I'm dressed. I must do it justice."

Theo chuckled.

***

One thing you had to admit was that Theo's dead eyes sent a shiver up your spine: you felt it as he put the necklace on you, his warm hands a contrast to the cold of the metal as he did up the clasp. You were dressed up for Christmas dinner— not impressively so, but nicer than you normally did. For once, you had foregone your hoodie, and properly cleansed your face of your makeup before doing it again. Maybe the motivation for it had been Theo in the room, but ultimately, you felt quite calm.

"Sei bella," he murmured, and you knew enough Italian to know what bella meant.

You suppressed a smile, admiring his attire of dress trousers and a shirt. He lacked a tie, and the top buttons were undone— topped with his rolled up sleeves, he looked divine.

"Let's hope the dinner isn't too boring," he chuckled, "But, either way, we can have a smoke after."

"Sounds like heaven," you said, turning around to look up at his gorgeous face. A few weeks ago, you would never have let yourself find someone attractive: in your head that was as good as an attachment to someone. Yet, here you were, knowing that your soul had grasped on to Theo's and would never let go. You still had your hesitancies, but they were being overrode by your intense craving for affection.

"Should we go down?" you asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

He hummed, "Just one more thing."

"What?"

His thumb and pointer finger delicately touched your chin, and your blood pressure skyrocketed when he leant down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "I couldn't resist."

You were rendered speechless— was that what a kiss was supposed to feel like? Magical, willing, heart-fluttering?

"Shall we, amore mio?"

"We shall," you smiled, accepting his extended hand.

***

The dinner was as boring as Theo had predicted, with the expected speech from McGonagall and then everyone falling into separate conversations. However, the delicious food was the saving grace, and you ate more than your stomach could handle, as well as drank a few glasses of red wine which had been provided for the professors and the adult students.

But, the highlight of your day was when you and Theo smoked in the usual tower spot, remaining in a soothing silence as you watched the snow fall.

"Can we build a snowman?" you asked, putting out your butt on the stone wall.

He quirked an eyebrow at you, "Why?"

"I've never built one," you muttered, wanting to rekindle the childhood joy that you had never truly experienced.

"Well, then, I hope you've got thick gloves."

***

"He's so ugly," you commented, staring at the snowman before you. He had a carrot on his face, courtesy of the kitchen, and a variety of stones creating a disturbingly fake happy expression. You turned around to where Theo had been stood next to you, only to see that he was gone. "Theo?" you called out, spinning around to find him when you felt a thud of something against your back.

When you looked in the direction of the throw, you saw the man you had been looking for laughing and gathering up snow into a ball.

"You son of a bitch," you cursed, leaning down and accumulating some snow of your own. Immediately you let fire, hitting him right in the chest.

"Oh, it's on!" he shouted back— the trigger for ten minutes running around and hurtling snow at each other until you tripped. Only, you found yourself laughing as you hit the ground, flopping into a starfish position as Theo dashed over to you. "Are you okay, principessa?"

You sat up and tugged on his leg, making him topple over too. "I'm perfectly okay."

"Clearly," he groaned, propping himself up on one arm to gaze at you.

"I think I won this one."

Theo rolled his eyes, "If my lips weren't so numb, I'd kiss you right now."

Your lips parted in shock, making him laugh.

"And I won that one," he said, "Can we go inside before we freeze, please?"

And when you and Theo were cuddled up in front of the fire with hot cups of tea, you knew that your isolated life was no more, and you had almost fully let go of your reservations about forming attachments.

***

Bliss can only last so long, of course, and the horde of students returned early January with their trunks and chatter in tow. You reluctantly returned to your Ravenclaw dormitory, knowing sleep would be difficult after growing accustomed to the comfort of Theo's arms.

But you had no choice.

Still, as you walked down the hallways alone for the first time in two weeks, your hood over your head and eyes cast down, you felt lonely. You had never felt lonely before— well, maybe in part. But your fear of knowing someone and being close had overrode the loneliness: your phobia of being hurt again had made you view loneliness as a comfort. It didn't feel like a comfort any longer, not now that you had tasted Theodore Nott and all that came with him. Not now that he had shown you good intentions and security.

"Y/N!" you heard a call from behind you.

You spun around, feeling a smile tug on your lips as you recognised the voice. That was another thing Theo had brought you: smiles that came naturally, like a flower blooming because it had been nurtured and nourished to perfection, not in spite of its environment.

"There you are, principessa," he murmured, pulling you into his embrace, "I haven't seen you since last night."

"It's not that long," you shrugged, but you had missed him too.

"Too long," he said, taking your hand in his, "I could hardly sleep without you. Kept worrying about your nightmares."

Your face dropped, and that told Theo everything he needed to know.

"You had one, didn't you?"

With a dismissive nod, you turned and began walking down the corridor with him, "It was nothing. I'm fine."

"You promise you'd tell me if you weren't?"

"I'm always fine when I'm with you," you said quietly, "I wasn't fine last night, or this morning, but now you're here— I'm fine."

His eyes softened at your words, and he squeezed your hand. "Let's get some lunch."

***

When you entered the Great Hall, you felt Theo tugging you over to the Slytherin table where his friends were gathered. You swallowed your anxiety and shifted closer to him, deciding that as long as you had Theo as protection, these people couldn't hurt you.

They didn't notice either of you until you sat down.

"Theo! Where have you been?" Mattheo Riddle asked, his eyes then flicking to you, "Oh, it's you again... L/N, right?"

You nodded the affirmative.

"Who?" the girl next to him, Pansy Parkinson, asked.

"The girl Theo's been courting."

"I didn't know Theo was courting anyone," Lorenzo Berkshire frowned.

"Are you in the year below?" Pansy turned to you.

"No. I'm in your year."

Her eyes widened, "Salazar, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," you said. And, really, it was. You were used to it.

"Are you official, then?" Mattheo questioned, changing the subject effectively.

"Yes," Theo replied, before you could even process what Mattheo had just asked.

"Never thought I'd see the day where you settled down," Blaise Zabini chuckled.

"Just hadn't met the right girl yet."

Your heart flipped.

***

"Sorry about that earlier," Theo said to you later at the smoke spot, "I figured it was the only way to not make the situation awkward."

"Sorry about what?"

"Saying we're official."

"Oh."

Theo quirked an eyebrow, "Unless you're not sorry?"

You pursed your lips, "Maybe I'm not."

He grinned, "Then allow me to ask you officially, cara mia, will you be my girlfriend?"

"I want to," you took a deep breath, "But, I just— certain things are going to take some time for me. I— I will need easing into things like, uh..."

"Sex?" he finished for you.

Shamefully, you bobbed your head.

"Of course, we will take all the time you need," he smiled, moving closer to you to place a hand on your cheek, "I'm not in it for the sex. I'm in it because ti amo."

"I think I love you too."

"I'm here for you always, amore mio. I promise."

"Pinkie promise?"

"Pinkie promise."

——————————————————

masterlist

written; 04/05/2024 —> 22/05/2024 published; 26/05/2024 edited; —/—/——

[sttoru]

ahh i just cant stop thinking of sukuna's fav concubine getting injured from the other concubines but she hides it because shes scared of being weak (in sukuna's eyes) and/or a burden ☹️☹️

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. fluff, sprinkle of angst n comfort. size difference. reader gets called ‘brat, woman, little one’ — ig this is a bit early in their relationship

“i’ve arrived, my lord,” you announce your presence once you step into sukuna’s quarters. the dimly lit room removed all the stress you currently had in your system—the knowledge that you’re safe in his space causes your shoulders to drop.

sukuna turns his head to look at you while he’s laid back on his bed, topless. all four of his eyes roam over your body, which isn’t anything unusual for you. he always does that.

“tch. took ya long enough,” the king of curses scoffs before gesturing for you to come closer, making that familiar motion with his fingers, “when i order y’ to come, you’re supposed to drop everything and rush to be at my service, woman.”

you hurry over to his side of the bed with a nod. “my apologies,” you mutter. you can’t tell him why you’re late, because hell would break loose within these walls. and also because you’re scared of what his reaction would be.

before being called over, you were in the kitchen, peacefully trying to get a snack, when two other concubines entered the room. you tried ignoring them, but that didn’t seem to be the smartest move. it wasn’t long before they threw derogatory remarks at you.

of course, you stood up for yourself and yelled some back. that’s when one of them pushed you backwards, causing the skin near your hand to get slightly burned by the fire on the stove.

if it weren’t for the maids around that went to report the ruckus to uraume, god knows what more would have went down in that kitchen.

“oi,” sukuna grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. he can immediately notice the vacant look in your eyes, which is unusual for you. you snap out of your trance and set the nasty memories aside—ignoring the impulse to scratch the injury on your wrist.

“i’m sorry, my lord,” you say again before slowly undoing your obi. you figure that is why sukuna had called you over, to do your job as his concubine. you halt your movements when you realise that undressing meant that he’s going to see the wound on your skin.

you hesitate. that same instant of hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by the king of curses. a large hand of his moves to stop both of your wrists from pulling off your robes.

“. . .i’m giving y’ three seconds of my time,” sukuna narrows his eyes after allowing you to speak up and tell him what’s on your mind. he hears you whimper in pain when he holds onto your wrist, your facial expression clearly uncomfortable. “spit it out,” he impatiently huffs. he wants to hear you say what’s wrong.

you desperately shake your head, biting your bottom lip. you don’t want to tell him—even though you know you’re obligated to.

denying an answer to sukuna was your next big mistake.

“fuckin’ brat,” the pink-haired man grunts. he yanks your arms up to his face, harshly pulling down the sleeves of your kimono. all four of his red eyes immediately fall onto the wound on your wrist. you obviously hadn’t treat it yet, even though you should have done so long ago.

there’s tension hanging in the air almost instantly after your little secret gets revealed. sukuna’s grip on your hands tightens which causes you to flinch. you close your eyes and expect the worst. you can already hear the insults he’ll throw at you—how he’ll call you useless, weak, stupid and all that.

“look up at me,” his voice rings out in a firm tone. you don’t want to anger him more than he already is, so you obey. you open your eyes and glance upwards, your worried gaze meeting his.

sukuna takes a deep breath to contain the bubbling rage inside of him; a rare sight indeed. he doesn’t want to unnecessarily lash out at you when it isn’t needed. however, he can’t deny that itching urge in his chest, to get mad at whoever caused your skin to get tainted like that.

sukuna stares at you with an intimidating glare. when you expect him to yell profanities at you, the unexpected happens.

“who did this to you?” he asks, voice strained like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you blink a few times. the king of curses sounds pissed off, and when he’s in that kind of mood, you know he’s not to be played with. you look the other way and try to think of a proper answer.

will you snitch and cause unnecessary bloodbath, or will you spare the lives of the concubines who hurt you and lie?

you’re scared of being seen as useless by sukuna if you tell him the truth. if you lie, he’ll probably call you weak and stupid as well. it’s a lose-lose situation, you conclude.

you swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth before parting your lips.

“m-miko,” her name echoes in his ears. you decide to be honest, because you know that there’s no fooling the ryomen sukuna. a second of silence follows and when you look up at him, he stares back at you with furrowed brows.

“ah,” you then realise that he doesn’t know his concubines by name. he has way too many women at his disposal and doesn’t find them worthy enough to remember.

however you have heard from uraume and the others that he does know your name—only yours. it makes you feel special.

you try to describe the concubine you’ve tussled with, “s-short blonde hair, uhm, mole under her right eye.. brown colored eyes—“

sukuna thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue once he faintly remembers who that’s supposed to be. without a word, he stands up and wraps one muscular arm around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you under his armpit like some package.

“uraume!”

his voice is loud enough to make the walls shake and it carries a clear hint of pure rage. everyone in the estate should have heard him by now, which means that they know what is going down in a couple seconds.

sukuna sounding this angry only means one thing; someone is going to die today.

the servants hurriedly scurry around, deeply bowing as he walks past them in the hallway with you still tucked underneath his arms. you let yourself be carried while your heart beats uncontrollably fast in your chest.

you feel your hands shake a bit. seeing someone like sukuna be this mad for your sake—to the point that he’s ready to turn the entire area upside down—is somehow thrilling. though, you can’t help but feel sick because of your own thoughts.

someone is going to die and there you are, cheesing about the king of curses.

you see the white-haired chef appear from a corner, their steps hurried. they glance at you and then back at their master. it’s like they immediately connect the dots.

“treat her in my quarters. don’t let her leave until i come back,” sukuna commands without even looking at uraume. he’s staring ahead, with an ominous aura emitting from his body, one that somebody can sense from miles away.

he puts you down next to uraume before glancing your way one last time. he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the worried expression you’re making. he lowers his head to your level so you’d be face to face.

“and you,” his warm breath hits your cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. you gulp as sukuna’s hand reaches up to firmly tug at your earlobe, “i’ll deal with your ass later, yeah? i’ll make you feel what it means to hide stuff from me, little one.”

that sentence makes you even more nervous. you know you won’t be able to avoid the punishment sukuna has in mind, so you simply nod. “understood,” you reply in a squeaky voice. you don’t have the guts to disobey him—he’s already out to kill someone and you don’t want to be the next victim.

sukuna straightens his back again and continues his journey towards the concubines’ quarters. every heavy step makes the floors and walls shake, a sign of his unstoppable rage that’s about to be unleashed.

you feel slightly puzzled. you didn’t expect this outcome when you revealed your injury to the ruthless man. you expected to be belittled and mocked for not being able to prevent a wound from being inflicted on your body.

instead, there he goes, off to get revenge in your stead. you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction after seeing sukuna be this protective over you. actions like these demonstrate more than his dull words can do, even if it may seem like he doesn’t care about what could happen to a human like you.

[hoshigray]

Satoru and Suguru having a competition over who can impregnate their sweet shared lover first, please?

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh my goodness???....you got my attention.

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - canon divergence; implied geto is still a jujutsu tech sorcerer - satosugu taking turns with you - kissing; making out - lotus (geto) + eagle (gojo) positions - breeding kink - scratching - multiple orgasms - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, of get tf up) - cervix fucking - creampies - clitoral play (swiping) - pet names (angel, baby, my love, pretty girl, princess, sweetheart) - humor - mention of drool + heavy depictions of come/semen.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

“Oooh—Haahh! Ohhh, God, Suguu, y’ feel so good…!”

“You feel good, too, princess...Hgghh! Shit, Y/n—“

“Yo, can you hurry it up? You know I’m not a patient guy, Suguru.”

Gojo sucks his teeth while watching you get it on with Geto. It was one of those nights when they’d come home and surprise you together. Usually, one would be assigned longer shifts or missions (that one mostly being Gojo), and the other would return home to eat dinner and sleep with you. But there would be those days when they’d arrive home in unison and try to do whatever they can to have you enjoy these rare moments with all three of you.

Sometimes, it would be Gojo taking you guys to some delicious café that sells parfaits that you’d probably like or Geto having the idea to have lunch at the park and enjoy the sun together. But, of course, there’d be those days when simply being inside the apartment, talking about each other’s day, watching a random movie, and then snoring while spooning would suffice. Because it doesn’t matter what they choose to do; all three of you being at the same place is always the best!

Tonight, however, was one of those nights where they’d pull you aside, drown you in kisses and gropes, and carry you to the bedroom for a more intimate occasion. For tonight, Geto and Gojo wanted to fuck you in the hopes you’ll be with child. And what better way for the two best friends to go about such an eventful issue than by a competition to see who can fill you up the most? 

Suguru has you propped on his crossed lap, your arms wrapped around his neck, and his hands kneading your asscheeks as you bounce on his cock and wail out his name in pretty notes. This was about the third round of the night, your cunt wet and filled with both Geto’s and Gojo’s cum. The fluids stream down with every jump of your hips from the base of his girth to his balls, the sounds of your union so filthy with the groans and moans that bounce around the bedroom walls. 

Geto sighs and burrows his chin into your shoulder. “Hahhh, oh, stop your crying, Satoru. You finished your turn and didn’t hear me heckle while you and Y/n were doing it.”

The white-haired man grunts with more complaints, to Geto’s dismay. “Yeah, well, I’m not the one who takes longer to finish,” he persists, even if his raven-haired friend frowns. “I don’t want you to be the reason my dick falls asleep.”

“Tch, what you should be worrying about is finishing too quickly when it’s your turn. You act like being faster is better…Heh, maybe you can’t handle Y/n better than I do.”

“You son of a—“

“Hey now,” you’re the one who mediates the growing childish tension between your husbands, turning your face to lock Gojo in a spell with your gorgeous, hooded eyes. “Be nice, Toru; it’s Sugu’s turn now, so you can have me however you want when we’re done here, okay?”

Like a heart-struck fool, pink shades creep into the helix of Gojo’s ears as he happily complies with your request. “Okay, my princess.”

Geto rolls his eyes at his friend’s display; what a total loser. As if he has room to talk because once you turn back to face him and kiss his cheek, his breath hitches. “Come on,” you whisper. “Don’t let him ruin your fun.”

The dark-haired one chuckles before claiming your lips with his, “Wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”

As you two kiss, you rock your hips more to create a steady rhythm on top of Geto. His girth stretches your vagina nicely, and with his pulsing veins, you can feel them rub on the velvety texture of your inner walls. It’s good that the pace is at a respectable tempo, allowing you to feel him at your wits and pleasure truly.

But the best part of this position is how easy it is to stimulate your clitoris. Every time you rock your hips against Geto’s, the bulb rubs against his body and has your frame jolting. It feels so fucking good, having your cunt stuffed with his girth member and graze your walls deliciously while your precious button is being pressed.

The pacing soon goes in sync, his subtle thrusts as you bounce your ass on him while kissing. Your mewls are taken by his hungry lips, sucking on your tongue to evoke more cute noises, your hand coming to the back of his head to massage and grab strands of his onyx hair. He’s so romantic with you and your body, the position making this intimacy so much more personal. Your chasm frequently clamps on his cock when you pull your waist up, making the man below you hiss at the grip.

He breaks the kiss, “Shit, you tighten around me so nicely…”

“Really?” You giggle, laying more kisses on his cheek and ears. It sends shivers down his spine. 

“—Khhh, damn it, I can’t...” Suddenly, Geto thrusts upwards in a faster notion, and you scream to hold on quickly and follow his cadence. “Fuck, you feel too amazing, sweetheart…!” You can’t reply to him appropriately; your only responses are narrowed down to high-pitched whines and squeals. His hands wrap around your back to keep your body close as he chases his climax, his hot face melting with the sweat of your shoulder while he pushes his cock to meet your cervix. “Hmng! Hmmnn, I’m gonna cum, baby…!”

“Ohooo, me too, Sug’ruu, me—Tahhh! Ohhh, Jesus…!” Your clit keeps bumping onto Geto, your nerves getting activated with every rut. Shaky moans leave your puffy lips, and your hand scratches his back at every jab of your delicate cervix. You bring him in for another kiss – this one a lot more rushed and steamy – and your orgasm hits you both from the erratic speed of your hips.

You two sigh heavily into each other’s mouths, your body sinking into Geto’s gentle hold as his cock ejaculates his semen into your throbbing slit. His hands massage your back while his pelvis rolls to grind his dick and have your walls clench onto him more.

With a soft sound, you remove your lips from his, smiling gently while you brush his bangs off to view his left eye. “You love to finish strong, Sugu.”

He chuckles before kissing your nose. “Can’t help it if you drive me crazy, my love—“

“Alright, round’s over!” 

Before Geto knows it, Gojo’s already on the bed, yanking you off his best friend’s lap and laying you down with your back to the sheets. He voices his discontent, trying not to appear too upset. “Excuse you? Can’t let me have a moment?”

“Nope!” He shoves a middle finger to Geto’s face, and the black-headed one almost pops a vessel. “I practically went limp after watching you two for so long. So obverse from the side and let me have my fun.”

“So annoying,” Geto mumbles under his breath, yet the milky-haired one chooses not to listen with a huff and places all his attention on you.

“Now,” Gojo turns to you with half-lidded cerulean eyes, a smile beaming too much that his dimples show up. He spreads your legs to evince your messy chasm; Geto’s come spilling down to the crevice of your butt as he massages your inner thighs. Fuck, so fucking nasty, it had him bite his lip. “You ready for more of me, baby?”

You titter, bringing your legs up your chest and spread to a V-shape. “Yes, Toru, thank you for being patient.”

He snickers while pushing his glans to meet your soapy folds, humming when the excessive come lubes your labia sufficiently for his cock to be inserted. The hug of your walls makes him moan, and you jerk as his left curve scratches the plush itch. “Fuuuuck, so warm and tight for me, baby.” 

His arms support your legs in the air, and the position allows him to initiate with slow thrusts. Your purr at his movements; the curve has you howl with every push, stretching your pussy when he propels himself into you and rubs the upper wall of your vagina. Oh God, feels so fucking good…

You peer to where his dick is plunging into your cunt, silently awing at the mussy display of cum ringing around the base of his shaft and stringing to where your folds are. Holy shit, you chew on your bottom lip and move a hand to finger your clit, silently howling at the swipes you dance around your bud. “OhhhGod, hmmmm, right there…”

Gojo looks down and sees what you’re doing, and he chuckles, “Shit, you enjoying yourself, pretty girl? Hmm?” He ruts into you with sudden haste, and an abrupt hit to your cervix has you almost choking on air. “Like being filled up, huh?”

“Ahhh, y–yesss, I lov—Mmmph!!” He grinds his pelvis down, drilling his length deep inside to scuff your smooth walls. “I love y’r dick so much, Satoruuu…!”

“Awww, look at you playing with yourself,” the view excited him more, increasing his speed to pound into you. You cry out at the poke of your cervix, clamping onto him in response. “Ahhhh, there it is,” he coos while adding more weight onto you, making his rocks precise where he wants to hit. More shrieks fly out your lips, “Wanna be bred so bad, princess? Want me to fill you up again?”

Your head aches, ears ringing from the sloppy sounds of his dick rutting inside you, his balls smack your grundel with every push. “Ahhnn, mmoohhh, ye’sss,” you whisper.

“C’mon, angel, let me hear you.” Gojo places his forehead on your sweaty one, azure eyes examining your expression in a haze. “You want—Nnngh! Fuck…Want me to fuck a baby into you, yeah? Make you a mama? ”

“Yess, ’Toru, yesss!! Give me y’ur babiess, make me all fat and full!!”

“Heh, good, pretty girl; so good for—Khhckk!! Shit, shit, I’m gonna cum…” He brings his lips to yours, moaning to the kiss with you while his hips turn up to a volatile rate. Your whimpers are sucked and drunk by him, your eyebrows furrowed from the cyclical hits to your cervix and rubbing on your silky tunnel.  

Your arms come around to his shoulders, beckoning him to deepen the kiss as your body gets ready for the orgasm that hits you like a train. Trembles climb up your frame, whines muffled, and drool slips out your mouth down to your chin. Your cunt contracts around his length, milking him into his own release and filling you with his essence, adding to the pile that squelches and trickles down to the sheets beneath you. 

Gojo nibbles on your lip as he pumps every last bit of his load into you, his tongue twirling with yours until he removes his face from yours. He smiles, dimples greeting you with disheveled strands of snow-white hair sticking to his forehead. Too distracted by his charm for him to sneak in more harsh thrusts to your aching frame. 

You gasp aloud, “—Ohooo! Satoru, nooo! I’m too sensitive nowww..!!”

“Mmmm, sorry, princess,” an apology with a smile doesn’t match, placing a kiss on your forehead as you wail for him while he ruts into your vulnerable slit. “You just feel too good, can never get enou—Owwww!!”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Witness to the entire thing, Geto smacks Gojo with a house slipper before pulling him off you and throwing him to the side. The blue-eyed man looks at the other with an annoyed face. “I should be asking you the same thing, you psycho; what’s with the assault!?”

“Did you forget? Your turn is up,” indigo eyes narrow with a dark glint. “So why are you still moving?”

“Oh, quit yapping, giant earlobes! Can’t a guy squeeze in a few more before I get off…Or what, you scared I’d make them pregnant first? Your frail soldiers can’t compete with mine, is that it?” 

“Hah, you tell me, blue-eyed snowflake; you’re the one still trying to fuck into them like you’re afraid your load isn’t enough. Poor guy; can’t be a sore loser too early, now.”

“Choke on my dick!”

“You first.”

The two bicker back and forth while you observe, unable to find the right cue to intervene as you’re still in a daze. You sit on your side, feeling the liquids inside you exit your frame and slide down your thighs.

As they fight, you remember that you had forgotten to tell them that you took a birth control pill earlier today after they texted about returning home together. It wasn’t until after dinner that they said they wanted to try and fuck and fill you to the brim, practically dragging you to the room before you could utter a word to them about the contraceptive.

…Oh well, surely they don’t mean to have a baby right this moment. Plus, there will be other times! So, for now, you watch your husbands argue before you while shaking your head with a smile.

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/benkeibear.

[simpforboys]

nobody leaves rafe cameron

toxic!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: after a series of arguments with your boyfriend, he has to remind you of your place when you try to leave him.

warnings: toxic relationship, very toxic and mean rafe (meow), arguing, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, choking, degrading, praising, dirty talk, a pussy slap, unprotected piv sex (errr no no), creampie, angst, a lot of swearing, trying to break up, talking bad about your partner behind their back

this takes place episodes 4x1-3

tell a friend to tell a friend, she’s backkkk

he was so fucking mean.

all you and him had done in the past few months is bicker and argue.

the week had already been shitty, but when Rafe told you he was going to compete in the Kildare BMX Race, you wanted to be a supportive girlfriend.

key word: wanted.

Rafe was tuning up some stuff on his dirt bike, dressed in all black. you sat on the sand next to him, just admiring him as he worked.

it was rare for him to wear all black, and the look was driving you insane.

“you gonna keep starin’ at me?” Rafe teases softly.

“mhm.” you hummed, grinning.

the announcer came on to say there was about five minutes til the race so everyone should head over to the start.

“hand me my helmet, would ya?” Rafe asks.

you stand up, wiping the sand from your denim skirt and grab his black helmet. you hand him it, feeling his large hand come down to help wipe some of the sand off your ass.

“there you go,” he coos.

“good luck, baby.” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

he just mumbles a soft thank you, slipping on his helmet as he starts the bike’s engine, switches gears, and takes off over to the starting line.

➽───────────────────❥

the race had been going smoothly. Rafe was in first the entire time…

until JJ Maybank decided to jump the river bank, landing in front of Rafe.

you watched anxiously, cheering on for your longterm boyfriend. but when Rafe’s front wheel collided with JJ’s back wheel, the two guys crashed and were flung off their bikes.

the rest of the racers zoom by, causing Topper to win.

“oh, shit.” you curse under your breath, running over to where Rafe was on the floor.

“are you okay?” you ask, trying to help him up. he shrugs you off of him, too clouded by anger.

he storms over to where John B and Sarah are with you hot on his tail.

“get used to it.” Rafe grumbles, causing John B to look at him.

“what’d you say?” John B asks, clearly frustrated. when Rafe doesn’t respond, he shoves him.

“what’d you say?!” John B repeats, louder this time as Rafe shoves him back.

“get used to it! get used to it, alright? this is forever, ya’ll don’t get to win!” Rafe yells as Sarah steps in between her brother and husband.

“you could have killed each other!” Sarah scolds.

“Rafe, c’mon, please.” you ask pleadingly, tugging on his arm.

yet again, he shrugs you off. due to the sand being uneven, the small movement was enough to cause you to fall on your ass.

but Rafe didn’t notice, or, didn’t seem to care as he continued to shoot insults at Sarah.

you were now pissed as you stood back up, and then it seemed like your boyfriend remembered you were together.

he tried to wrap his arm around your shoulders for support, still aching and hurt from the crash.

you just shrugged him off, storming away.

“y/n!” Rafe calls after you.

➽───────────────────❥

he somehow managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants the day after the race.

but when you and Rafe walked into Topper’s little celebration party at one of the villas, Topper embraced Rafe into a hug, clearly drunk from the intense game of beer pong.

“you see him? his dad shot and killed Sheriff Peterkin.” some girl mutters to her boyfriend.

unfortunately, Rafe overheard.

“leave it—“ you started, but he was already going over to the girl, who was now backing up against the wall.

“what’d you say?” he asks, the girl’s boyfriend pushing Rafe back.

“go away, Rafe.” the boyfriend grumbles, but Rafe doesn’t back down.

“no, no, if you have something to say, say it to my face.” Rafe slaps his cheek for emphasis, but Topper and you move to pull him back.

“hey, relax, okay?” you tried to say, watching him grab a bottle of alcohol and start drinking it.

“just— just get the fuck off of me right now.” Rafe says coldly, obviously pissed off about the situation.

you grit your teeth, a pit forming in your stomach as you bit back a response. but you obliged, walking away from him.

➽───────────────────❥

yet again, he managed to apologize and charm his way back into your pants, reassuring you that he’s just going through a lot of stress about the deal with Hollis.

but the final breaking point was when your father had came to you about pushing Rafe towards his teetering decision about becoming Hollis’ partner.

you immediately said no, not wanting to go behind your boyfriend’s back. so when you drove over to the yacht club Rafe was at, you found him sipping on a margarita with Topper and Ruthie.

“what about your girlfriend?” Ruthie asks, making you stop in your tracks.

it was wrong to listen in on his conversation, but a part of you wanted to hear what he had to say about you.

“who, y/n?” Rafe asks, making Ruthie nod.

“she’s not my girlfriend… we’re just hookin’ up, ya’know?” Rafe murmurs, drinking more of his margarita.

a pain started to form where your heart was, a deep frown on your face as he spoke.

“i thought she moved in.” Topper furrows his brows.

“she’s not going to move in… i would never live with a pogue, i have standards.” he explains, making Ruthie and Topper laugh.

that was your breaking point, the point where you were ready to throw the past 19 months away.

because clearly if he couldn’t even respect you to his friends, he doesn’t respect you at all.

you turned on your heel, trying to leave when you accidentally knocked into a server, causing a glass to fall down.

you swore under your breath, ducking out and leaving. but unfortunately, your boyfriend is tall, and he was able to see your head.

“awe, shit.” he cursed quietly, drinking the rest of his beverage before walking away.

“y/n! y/n.” Rafe calls out, jogging to catch up to you.

“no, Rafe! i’m fucking done!” you yell, storming to your house that was only a few blocks away.

Rafe runs in front of you, grabbing your hips to stop you from moving. “the hell you mean done?”

“are you dense? we’re over.” you snap, trying to pull out of his grip.

he clenched his jaw, laughing bitterly.

“i don’t know what you think you heard, but-“

“i don’t think anything. i know you just basically said you could never take me seriously as a girlfriend since i’m a pogue.” you cut him off, lip trembling as you wipe away a tear rolling down your cheek.

“i didn’t mean it like that, baby.” Rafe coos, just trying to charm his way back.

“no, stop. it’s not going to fucking work, Rafe. i’m serious… we’re done.”

“no, we’re not.” Rafe says, his voice dangerously low.

“yes, we are,” you spit.

Rafe roughly grabs you, pushing you into the back of his car. once you’re inside, he moves on top of you, grabbing your throat with his hand.

“you think you can just leave me?” he laughs piercingly, his face barely a few inches from yours.

you didn’t respond, causing him to squeeze your neck. “i fucking hate you.”

“no, you don’t.” Rafe murmurs, unbuttoning your shorts, pushing them down your thighs.

“stop, Rafe-“

“no, you’re going to fucking listen to me!” Rafe yells, forcing you to stare up at him.

“nobody leaves me, you understand?” he asks, his voice breathy and dark.

chills ran down your spine, your eyes wide in fear as your body trembled.

“you fuckin’ understand?” Rafe reiterates, barely slapping your clothed cunt.

“y-yes,” you whimper.

“good girl. now, ‘m gonna fuck this pussy because ‘s mine, yeah?” Rafe says, not really asking.

all you do is nod in response, hating how your clit is throbbing with need.

“you’re lucky i’m not gonna make you suck my cock right now… just wanna remind my girl that she will always be my girl.”

he’s rambling as he shoves his shorts down just enough for his dick to sprang free. he’s always been well endowed, with an 8.5 inch cock, a pretty pink tip, and two prominent veins you always loved to lick on.

“wearin’ these fucking panties… you wanted this, huh? wanted to come and try and make a fool outta me?” Rafe grumbles, pulling the pink lace to the side to reveal your drenched cunt.

you shake your head, tears forming in your eyes from the situation. you were hurt, angry, and fucking horny.

Rafe wastes no time in sliding his cock into your hungry hole, his hand tightening around your throat.

“mhmm, my girl ‘s always so hungry for me. look at this slutty hole suckin’ me in,” he purrs.

he pushes his hips until your clit is pressed against his pelvis, a few tears rolling down your cheeks with your lip in a pout.

“that’s a good girl… fuckin’ cry for me.” Rafe grunts, starting to piston his hips as he fucks you in the backseat of his car.

your hands gripped the shoulder of the passenger seat and the headrest of the back, pretty eyes fluttering shut as your cunt clenched around him.

“yeah… look at you clenching f’me… so needy for this dick.” Rafe coos, forcing you to look at him.

“open your mouth.”

you don’t oblige at first, too overwhelmed in pleasure and the fact that you’re getting fucked by the same man who just talked shit about you.

he uses his fingers to open your jaw, spitting in your mouth. “when i tell you to do somethin’, you fucking do it. swallow.”

you swallow his spit, pussy fluttering around his relentless cock.

“good girl.”

“Rafe— fuck…” you pant.

the car shook as he pounded into your soaping cunt, his balls slapping against your ass.

“tell me who this slutty pussy belongs to.”

“y-you, Rafe… my slutty pussy belongs to you.” you trembled, hand gripping his forearm as he continued to apply pressure to your neck.

“you understandin’ that you can never leave me? that you’ll always be Rafe Cameron’s whore?” he coos, his eyes dark, voice low.

you nod, body shaking as your breathing grows heavier.

“that’s what i thought… all you needed was a good fuckin’ and you’re all well behaved n shit.”

his mean words were turning you on more unfortunately, your belly tightening with each rough thrust.

but when he took his hand off of your neck, beginning to toy with your aching clit.

“look at this clit… all swollen n throbbing f’me. fuck, you’re such a needy whore.” Rafe grunts, his cock twitching inside of you.

all you could do was nod, dizzy and lightheaded from pleasure.

“is my girl gonna cum f’me?” he coos tauntingly, the pad of his thumb flicking teasingly on your hard nub.

“p-please… please, Rafey…”

he moans at the nickname, losing his composure for a second as his balls clench, trying to hold off his orgasm until you explode on him.

“come on, baby. cum on this dick.”

at his approval, you let the coil in your stomach snap. you whimper loudly, clinging onto anything you can reach as your body trembles beneath him.

your orgasm triggers Rafe’s, pussy walls fluttering around him so deliciously he has no choice but to cum inside you.

“take this cum… take my fucking seed.” he groans, hips stuttering as he fills you to the brim.

you pant, vision blurry and suddenly needy for water when you begin to come back down from cloud nine.

you pulled him down into a soft, tender kiss, panting into each-other’s mouths.

Rafe leaned forward, grabbing a half empty water bottle from the cupholder you had left there as he unscrews the cap, holding the hole to your mouth.

“drink,” he murmured.

you happily complied, the water soothing your throat.

“good girl,” he hums in approval.

you couldn’t help but clench around him at the praise, and Rafe’s head fell slightly at the feeling, a proud smirk tugging on his lips.

he knew he was training you so well, even if you needed a reminder every now and then <33.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, no curse au, dead dove, violence described including murder, dark romance, use of y/n, descriptions of mental illness.

Synopsis: Sukuna’s talking to his therapist in jail about you. He’s incarcerated because of you, and his obsession is concerning.

An: Yeah idk i thought of this while I was driving to work one morning.

Session one. | Session two. | Session three. | Session four. |

His large frame laid lazily over the couch, clad in an orange jumpsuit. He had his feet propped up on one side, and his head was propped up on the other side in a far too casual manner. His naturally pink hair pushed up near the front, messily so.

He was still cuffed and shackled, but the therapist was still afraid of him. To the therapist’s credit, he had read the warrant that went into viscous detail of Sukuna’s crimes.

Normally, the therapist wouldn’t read the inmates warrants due to situations like these. He liked going into sessions with an open mind, but he had gotten warnings about Sukuna… how the man can fly into a blind rage like a switch on the wall.

He was brutal, unforgivable, inhumane.

Simple counseling wasn’t going to “fix” a broken human like Sukuna. The therapist knew this, but the state mandated that Sukuna undergo weekly counseling sessions per his sentence.

Sukuna could taste the therapist’s fear, and he let out an earnest laugh. “You don’t even want to try to fix me, do you?” He asked tauntingly with a lopsided grin. “I don’t blame you. Don’t feel bad~”

The therapist swallowed the lump in his throat, and he adjusted in his seat. “I can’t fix anyone… Counseling isn’t about fixing.. It’s about moving forward and learning how to live.”

“Bullshit.” Sukuna spits with shrug. “Counseling is about focusing on the past and letting shit hang you up for far too long. I guarantee you that you’re going to ask me about how I got here, is that right?”

The therapist is shaking like a leaf at this point. “Our past can help us navigate to a better future.” He murmured out weakly.

Sukuna roars in laughter, causing the therapist to nearly jump out of his seat. The pink-haired felon doubles over as he laughs hysterically. “You’re a funny guy. Fine. You really want to know how I got here? I’ll tell you.”

After a deep breath and wiping away a fake tear, Sukuna goes on, “You know, teachers always believe that pairing the troubled kids up with the good kids will inspire them to act right. That shit never works.”

“I think that’s when my ‘type’ developed. My bitch of a second-grade teacher assigned me to sit next to this frail meek girl after I got in trouble one too many times for terrorizing the other kids. She was a real stick in the mud.” Sukuna laughs fondly, a rare genuine smile on his face.

“Y/n?” The therapist asks, remembering your name from the warrants.

Sukuna’s red eyes snap over to the therapist with an almost predatory gaze. His hands visibly curl into fists. “Say her name again, and I’ll splatter your blood all over this room. The officers won’t be able to pry me from you, deeming you to be a lost cause.”

The therapist freezes as the breath hitches in his throat. His eyes dart toward his panic button, knowing he should probably press it now, but he’s frozen in fear.

“We’ll call her mouse.” Sukuna goes on as if he didn’t just threaten the poor guy’s life in brutal detail.

“Mouse was a real challenge. I for some reason made it my mission to get her to talk to me, but she always stayed silent — only answering me with simple head gestures.” He laughs again, lying his head back further as he’s replaying the memories in his mind. He can remember you vividly and how you looked back then. He yearns for that feeling again. The feeling of seeing you for the first time.

“I can’t exactly tell you when the challenge started to border obsession, but she slowly slithered her way into my brain. Even when I wasn’t in school, I thought about her. I wondered what she sounded like, wondered why she wouldn’t talk to me, wondered why she looked at me like that.”

The therapist furrows his eyebrows. Even though he doesn’t feel safe in this session, and he doesn’t trust Sukuna at all, he has a hunger for knowledge, and he loves solving things that have to do with the human psyche.

“Looked at you like what?” The therapist dared to ask.

Sukuna stayed silent for a moment, and he tapped his finger against the back of his hand. His face hardened as he found the words he was looking for. “She looked at me like she had no preconceived notion of me. Her eyes… were so big and round. Even though she didn’t talk to me, it was like she accepting of my presence.”

The shackles jingled as Sukuna rubbed his face in a stressed gesture. Remembering you was like a double edged sword. He loved thinking about you, but he hated being reminded that he was without you.

The therapist eased in his chair. There was actual emotions underneath all those tattoos, thick skin, and muscle. The media had portrayed Sukuna as a complete narcissistic sociopath, but this was proof that diagnosis was false.

“I bothered the shit out of her for years, continually getting myself paired up with her.” Sukuna grinned, shifting the conversation back in a direction that he was more comfortable with, “I remember those asshole kids always called me her shadow because I followed her everywhere. Jokes on them.”

The therapist shivered as be remembered a chilling detail from the warrants. Each time a victim was found, a message was written in the victim’s blood.

-ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡ

His victim’s - their deaths were like an homage to you.

“Were the kids ever… assholes to mouse?”

Sukuna’s jaw visibly tightened. He loathed this therapist’s questions… thinking he knew everything just because you and Sukuna were misunderstood kids.

“They called her weird for not talking.” Sukuna recalled as he bit his inner cheek. His eyes glared to the wall in front of him. “Now look at who can’t talk.”

Sukuna’s first victim. He didn’t start out with murder. He started out with stapling your bullies mouth shut for taunting you. Everything was for you. Everything.

He held a kid down to the teacher’s in third grade, grabbing a stapler, and he pressed it down one by one into the kids lips, binding them together. The kid couldn’t scream or cry for help, or else he’d risk ripping the flesh on his lips.

The teachers found the kid and immediately knew the only kid sadistic enough to go through with such an act was none other than Sukuna.

“Did mouse witness you do that?” The therapist asked, genuinely intrigued by Sukuna’s narrative. For being a ruthless criminal, he was a wonderful historian.

“No. Why would I scare her like that?” Sukuna’s voice was tense as he eyed the therapist carefully, as if he was waiting for him to say the wrong thing.

The therapist clicks his tongue in surprise, and he looks like a deer in headlights. “Scare? No.. no, I thought you’d maybe just show off what you did for her.”

“I’m not the type to show off.” Sukuna answers flatly, and the therapist wonders if that’s the first time Sukuna’s lied during this session. He knows that Sukuna likes to show off. The warrants prove it.

“Anyways, I wore her down over the years. She didn’t speak to me until we were in sixth grade.” An eerie smile curls on Sukuna’s lip. “I can still remember her first word to me and how she said it…”

The therapist leaned in, curiosity getting best of him.

Sukuna smirks, knowing he has the therapist interested now. “Her first word to me was a plea. A word to show her undeniable want. Her first word to me was please.”

Bang! Bang Bang!

The therapist literally flinches out of his chair from the heavy knocks at the door.

“Ryomen! Your time is up!” The officer yelled on the other side of the door.

“Pity. I was beginning to have fun.” Sukuna remarked as he stood up from the couch. The shackles jingled as he walked toward the door, and the door buzzed, letting him out. “See you next week, doc.”

[flowersforbucky]

where the lines overlap

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

word count: 8.7k

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

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

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

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

Go to your happy place or whatever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today is no different.

“Don’t use so much force.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bullseye.

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

“Wanna guess what I chose?”

You snatch the remaining knife out of his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he doesn’t move from behind you.

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

••••••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

••••••

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

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

You're putty in his hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, your bedroom door clicks shut behind you.

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

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

••••••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not pretend—”

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

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

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

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

You’re met with white noise.

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

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

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

Nothing indeed.

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

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

“I don’t hear you suggesting anything!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” you implore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey! I loved that bra—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up and eat me out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You aren’t going to argue with that.

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

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

“Oh, you’re so thoughtfu—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think it worked?” he grunts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

••••••

You sleep the entire flight back to New York.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, hoping that it’s convincing.

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

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

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

“Right,” you murmur.

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

“And the humans..? They’re all okay?”

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

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

“No,” he laughs. “I suppose not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

check out some of my other logan fics -

by the end of the night

dog tags drabble

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ Rom-Com Gone Wrong

˚ · . bakugou katsuki x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ takes place during their third year, mentions of injuries and blood, forced intake of aphrodisiac, unestablished relationship, mutual pining, love confession, both characters are 18, protected sex, implied unprotected sex, virgnity loss, misunderstandings, a bit angsty, bakugou is lowky ooc and gentle, this is really long

following a rough battle with a rather inconvenient villian and his quirk, y/n finds herself induced with aphrodisiac against her will. she wins the encounter, only to be told if she doesn't relieve her sexual desires within 24 hours with another individual she will die.

"i'll be the one to do it," mineta says, trying to sound nonchalant about the situation, flipping his non-existent hair off to the side if his shoulder. the girls, in unison, disagree verbally, knowing of his creepy tendencies.

"can't she just do it with a girl?" tsuyuri thinks aloud, attempting to find an easy way for you to feel more comfortable with the situation. "if that's the case, then i'll do it!" ashido declares, raising her hand in the air.

this has been the subject of conversation for the past hour or so. yes, your classmates and even teachers are conversing on what to do about your current state, on who will be the one to sleep with you. it's almost heartwarming, to know that your classmates care so much about you that they'd be willing to sleep with you if it means you'll live.

which is exactly what it means. exactly nine hours ago, you had a confrontation with a well-wanted villian. you knew of the risks, you knew of his horrendous and taboo quirk. you knew that he used his quirk to take advantage of women who were defenseless and practically leaving them for dead within 24 hours of interaction.

quirks like these were rare, none of your classmates nor teachers had any experience with this type of thing. originally, the teachers were going to discuss of this situation privately, but after almost three hours had gone by with no real possible solutions, they had decided to involve your dearest classmates to come up with something, anything to help save your life.

"no, according to the villian and the tiny information we were able to get out of him, it has to be done with a male." midnight had said, rubbing at her temple to ease her stress. your female classmates groaned with frustration, side-eyeing mineta with disgust.

"t-then i'll do it!" a new contender had volunteered. "y-you? y/n needs a real man, denki—," jirou had said, trying to play of her nervousness with a chuckle. "i agree." momo said sternly.

"no offense but.. how about the boys leave this discussion to the boys." she added on, having distrust in the intentions of her male classmates. "i know you boys just want to do what you can to help her, but we also have to think about how this will affect her mentally."

the topic carried on with the girls, occasionally one of the boys attempted to give a idea, but were almost immediately shot down due to it's risk.

admist to all the tension and debate, there was one who was uncharacteristically quiet. bakugou katsuki.

all of the boys were huddled into a circle, behind the girls, listening into their plan. however, it was bakugou who stuck out like a sore thumb. he kept his hands in his pockets, a rather stoic expression written onto his face as he stared up to the ceiling.

"i'll do it! you guys just gotta trust me!" mineta yelled once more, his body jolting with fear when he was met with clear resistance from the girls.

everyone was too wrapped up in figuring out a game-plan to even notice that bakugou had taken his leave, muttering a scoff at his classmates's immaturity and perversion.

he made his way to the dorms, his hand rubbing at the tense skin of his nape. bakugou stopped in his tracks, seemingly he wasn't the only one who had the same idea. his hands returned to their place in his pockets, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of his classmate, todoroki shouto, standing a few feet away from your dorm room.

"what are you doing here?" bakugou asked, resting his body weight on his right leg. todoroki looked back at bakugou calmly, observing the blonde's stiff movements. "i want to help y/n-san." todoroki stated, glancing back at the door of your room.

bakugou scoffed at his answer, rolling his eyes to the back of his head. "yeah right—you?" he hissed, coming up to todoroki and shoving him away from your door. "don't make me laugh. i'll be the one to do it."

todoroki stayed in place for a moment, blinking at bakugou's aggression and determination. he glanced once more at your door, and then back to bakugou before sighing with defeat and turning around to head god knows where.

bakugou scoffed once more, not taking his eyes off todoroki until he was well out of his sight. bakugou turned around, his red eyes staring intently at your door. he chewed on the walls of his mouth, wondering how to go about the situation.

as brash as he may be—he's not an idiot. he knows that if you don't end up getting any help within a few mere hours, you'll die. and thats not what he wants. to stand and watch while his dumb classmates argue over who will be the one to have the honor of having sex with you is something he won't abide with.

ೄྀ࿐

a soft moan escaped your lips at the feel of your fingers caressing against your sensitive folds. a drop of sweat ran down your flushed face, running down to your collarbone and dampening the sheer tank you were wearing.

there was a knot in your abdomen, a very tight knot, that has been yet to be undone. normally, when you had this kind of urge, you'd be able to satisfy it yourself. but it's been nearly eight hours since you'be been drugged, and the effects only get more and more intense with every passing minute.

you're tired. your body is coated in a thick layer of sweat, the room smells grossly of your own scent, and it's been eight hours—yet no release. tears sting at your waterline, your hand coming up to cover your pathetic whines and cries as your fingers scissor their way into your cunt, trying to find relief to your frustration.

you gasp with pleasure when your finger nails press ever so slightly against that one spot, hazy eyes going wide when you finally find it. your back arches off the bed, toes curling when you can barely press your fingerpads against that sweet spot, but nonetheless it's something.

your body jolts when you hear a light knock at your door, hands flying to grab onto your blanket to hide your half-naked body. you sat frozen on your bed, eyes watching the door.

a couple of moments later, once again the visitor knocked, snapping you out of your haze. you rushed to find any pajamas or clothes to wear, eventually settling on a pair of grey pajama shorts. the visitor knocks again once more, earning a groan from you. "g-give me a second!" you hiss loudly, dusting off your body and finally walking up to your door.

with a deep inhale, you open up your door a few inches, hiding your sweat-ridden body behind the large frame and peeking out your head to see the visitor.

your heart drops into your stomach at the sight of the familar blonde, his red eyes lidded low at you. "b-bakugou?" you stutter out, your cheeks blushing intensely when you feel your core throb at just the sight of him. "what... are you doing here?" you say, swallowing down the fat lump in your throat.

bakugou stares at you, his facial expressions uncharacteristically calm and unreadable. "..isn't it obvious?" he says nonchalantly, taking a step towards the door. his low tone heats up your body, making you impossibly warmer with embarrassment to top it off with your seemingly insatiable desire.

still, you don't move from the door, and if anything, push it forward so only a few centimeters remain between the frame and the door itself. your forehead rests against the wood, contemplating your options.

bakugou katsuki has come to your door to do the obvious with you. for many others, this would be a dream come true—and it almost is, for you, almost. tears cloud your vision once more at the thoughts that run throughout your head, he's only here because you'll die.

"let me in y/n,—", "no, i don't want you here." you interrupt, still hiding behind the door. bakugou's eyes widen slightly at your refrusal, not expecting you to shut him down given the situation.

to you, it's almost insulting—bakugou katsuki is here to have sex with you, to save you. your crush of many years, is here to have sex with you, but only because he feels the need to save you, not because he wants to.

bakugou sighs silently, he knows its a sensitive matter, that you're practically forced to have sex with someome that you possibly don't like just to live. his fists tighten up into a ball, his eyebrows furrowing at your stubbornness. but he won't have you die, he won't knowing he could help you.

"y/n. open the door or i'm going to break it down myself." he says sternly, his voice raising slightly. it sends shivers down your spine, but still you hold your ground. alas, you find it within yourself to close the door, only for it to be held open by bakugou who most definitely overpowers you when it comes to strength. with a grunt, your already weak arms give in, quickly dropping back to the floor as the door slams against the wall now that bakugou has won the short game of tug-o-war.

bakugou makes his way into your room, not even caring to check if the door handle has made a new hole in the wall. his mouth opens, ready to say something, only to purse into a straight line when he sees the tears flowing down your cheeks.

"i don't want you here." you mumble out, attempting to hide your tears by wiping them away as quick as they came.

with a grunt, bakugou is pulling you up to your feet, his hands gripping onto your shoulders while his lips smash against yours. the kiss is rough, almost uncomfortably stiff. and yet, you almost let out a moan of satisfaction just by him giving the worst kiss ever. he pulls away a moment later, his hands keeping you in place.

not like you'd be able to walk away even if you wanted, your gaze was fixated on his soft features, eyeing those lips of his. this time, it's bakugou whose walking away—and it's you who is running after him.

with haste, you push yourself forward to the blonde, your hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back to you. bakugou breathes out a grunt when your lips collide with his once more, desperate and clumsy, more teeth than tongue. you can't help but grab into bakugou's broad shoulders before finding better purchase by wrapping them around his neck, feet on all toes in order to reach his lips.

bakugou pulls away from you, quickly shutting the door and locking it. though, he barely has time to do the second, as soon as the door is closed, you're pushing him against it and shoving your body against his, encapturing his lips with yours once again. he swallows your desperate whines, his tongue fighting for dominance against yours. it's messy, it's not at all in sync—but just that alone has your body heating up than what you thought was possible.

and bakugou can feel it. his hands find purchase on the small of your waist—your skin is hot to the touch, almost fever hot. he raises an eyebrow when the feel of his skin on yours alone has you letting out a soft moan, much to your embarrassment. experimentally, bakugou's hands travel down to the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh lightly, earning a gasp from your lips.

seeing this, bakugou pulls away from you, a fat string of saliva connecting the two of you. his red eyes watch you tortuously, watching the way your delicate features contort with pleasure as his hands explore your ass, his squeezes getting more and more rough as your body reacts. his finger glides up to the hems of your shorts, playing with the drawstrings and eventually pulling on one to untie the knot, allowing your flimsy excuse of so-called shorts to drop and lay around your feet.

your cheeks burn at the way he stares closely at your half-naked body, eyes darting down to the ground when you realize that you didn't even put on any underwear. to you, bakugou is eyeing your body, looking for any imperfections and unsatisfying marks.

but to bakugou, he has to hold back a groan by biting on his lower lip at the sight of your bare cunt. his hands tighten it's grip on your hips, attempting to keep his composure. bakugou finally pushes himself off the door, leading you quickly by the small of your waist to your bed.

with a gentle shove, you're laying down onto your back, your legs dangling off the edge of the mattress. your eyes widen when bakugou's hands grab the hems of his shirt, pulling it up to his head and discarding of his shirt, revealing his rather toned abs and few scars he's gained in the various fights he's gotten into as a hero.

your mouth is agape in awe, practically drooling at the sight of his fit muscles and small waist. without another word, your hand subconsciously reaches for him, generously touching the muscles of his abdomen. for the first time of the night, bakugou finally shows some emotion, smirking widely at your infatuation with his abs.

"i know i got some great abs, huh?" he grins, his hand coming up to rest on the flesh of your thigh. his grin flattens to an slightly agape 'O' when your hand travels down lower to his lower pelvis, your nails caressing the skin, sending shivers down his spine. dangerously, it continues, your fingers meddling with the edge of his baggy pants, circling the metal button.

before you could do anything else, bakugou is grabbing your hand away, and much to your surprise, settles himself inbetween your bare legs, eyeing your exposed cunt. naturally, you rush to close your legs, but are stopped by his hands that rest on both of your inner thighs.

"don't try to hide yourself from me." he growls lowly, his cock growing hard in his pants at the fuller sight of your glistening cunt. a yelp leaves your throat when you are pulled closer to the edge of your bed, cunt mere centimeters from bakugou's face. your eyes close shut, palm hiding your face in embarrassment.

"open your damn eyes, you're gonna watch as i eat this pretty pussy." he hisses out before blowing lightly onto your folds, enjoying the way your thighs shiver. with a lick of his lips, bakugou dives into your cunt, his tongue dragging across your folds and into your core. you let out a rather loud moan at the feel of his tongue exploring your cunt, your hands diving down to entangle themselves in his short blonde locks.

as told, you watch bakugou devour your poor pussy through tears, moaning into your palm to not let anyone hear the way you're getting eaten out by one of your classmates. your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel bakugou enter his index finger into your tight walls, massaging your gummy walls without mercy.

"bakugou.." you mewl out, back arching off the bed when you feel the knot in your stomach begin to unravel. the fingers tied in his hair pull tightly on his roots, earning a hum of satisfaction leave his lips, vibrating against your clit so deliciously it has you sobbing out his name within seconds and squirming within his tight hold as you cum. tears run down your cheeks as your body convulses with pleasure, eyebrows furrowed intensely as your first orgasm of the night washes over you.

a minute later, you finally come down to earth, chest heaving heavily as your eyes focus down to bakugou who licks up the remains of your delicious juices. it's so over stimulating, but it feels so good, the way his tongue laps up your cum as if he was a starved man.

for a second, you close your eyes, basking in the sweet after-glow of your orgasm before a familar vibrating sound snaps you out of your bliss. bakugou holds up the pink bullet-vibrator within his hand, cocking his head to the right. "this yours?" he asks teasingly, a sly grin painted into his face.

before you could respond, bakugou is pressing the bullet against your clit, sending waves of overstimulated pleasure up your spine. you wiggle and shift on your bed, attempting to get away from it, from him, but in the heat of the moment you seem to have forgotten of bakugou's trained strength. he pins your hips onto the bed with ease with one hand, and holds the bullet to your clit with the other.

he evilly chuckles into your cunt, his tongue gliding into your tight hole. your cries and pleas are melodies to his ears, and he only stops when your thighs are shaking for a second time around his head and your pussy walls are tightening up around his tongue. he hungrily laps up your fluids once more, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit as he discards of the vibrator in order to grab onto the back of your thighs and practically smothers himself into your pussy.

finally, once he's deemed you cleaned up and not an ounce of your cum wasted, he pulls away from your drenched pussy. his chin glistens with your juices, his tongue lapping up any remains on his lips. his ruby red eyes watch as your chest heaves up and down, his hand grabbing your wrist that was covering your flushed face and discarding it to the side.

he passionately kisses you, not like the kisses you two shared earlier. rather, your inhaling his heavy breaths as his hips roll subconsciously into yours, his hard-on poking against your inner thigh. "bakugou.." you exhaled against his lips, your hand sliding inbetween your close bodies to palm his confined cock.

bakugou lets out a almost pained groan, his eyebrows furrowing at the feel of your hand brushing against his cock's tip. "fuck.." he groans, his head dipping down to your chest when your hand slides below his trousers and over his confined boner. "wanna help you too bakugou," you mumble shyly, batting those pretty eyelashes at him.

the tempered blonde seems to have been frozen in place at your unexpected boldness, his cock growing impossibly harder at your words. he curses under his breath when your hand glides in between the gap of his boxers, your fingers coming into contact with the skin of his cock.

you're so unexpected. it's all bakugou can ever think of. unlike all the others, you've surprised him the most. you've surprised him with your wits—instead of strength and speed. no matter how mean or offensive he's been to you, you've been nothing but a saint—going so far to even nurse him back to health after a particularly aggressive battle with a villian.

thats why he had to be the one to help you. after all you've done for him, he had to return the favor in the one time he could save your life, even if it meant having sex would save you. he wasn't about to let those ungrateful, clueless extras do it with you either when they didn't deserve the opportunity to have you so vulnerable for them.

and having sex with you doesn't seem too bad, not in the slightest. especially not when your hand is pumping his cock so deliciously. bakugou's lips apart slightly, a sharp gasp escaping when your palm tightens around his sensitive cock.

you jolt when bakugou's own hand wraps around your wrist firmly, practically slapping it away from his cock. you look up at him with filmy eyes, looking for an explanation within his own. "gotta focus on you," he mumbles under his breath, his hands coming down to your hips and dragging you down to him.

bakugou finally begins to undo his belt, the metal buckle causing your ears to tingle. he pushes down his pants to his lower thighs, for a second he glances up at you, to which you can see a small glimpse of the red tint that covers the apples of his cheeks and the way he stares intently at your features, most likely waiting to see your reaction.

he slides his dark red boxers down to the middle of his thighs, just enough to free his cock of his uncomfortable confines. and, just wow, maybe it's because you're quite literally drugged with a sex drug, or maybe he's just that perfect—but just the sight of his cock has your pathetic pussy walls clenching and throbbing around nothing.

your mouth salivates at the mere thought of his cock, and just now seeing it—god you just want him to fuck you already. without a thought, your hand reaches once more for him, only for bakugou to pin your wrist down to the side of your body, his own climbing on top of the bed. your legs come to rest on each sides of his hips, his thighs underneath yours while he sits on his knees.

it seems you're not the only one so horny, afterall, as bakugou wrapped his hand around cock, his hips inching closer to yours, his body jolted, eyes widening. his sudden movement has your heart dropping in your stomach, a cold sweat breaking out on your body. "w-what? what is it?" you stutter out, your hand crossing defensively over your clothed chest.

bakugou's cheeks seem to bloom more a shade of red as he leans back, searching for something in his pocket. "hah.. i almost forgot the condom.." he says, taking out the unmistaken small square packet out of his pocket.

you chuckle lightly at the mistake, feeling embarrassment for yourself as well. to think that you two were so wrapped up in the heat of the moment that you almost forgot the condom gives such a strange feeling in your stomach.

finally, bakugou puts the condom on, a bit shaky with embarrassment as he slides it on. all prepared, he looks up at you—possibly the calmest you've ever seen him, but there's a hint of seriousness and maybe even care with the way his eyebrows are furrowed lightly or how his eyes never leave your face.

"ready?" he asks cautiously, his hand gripped onto the underside of your thigh with the other resting on the side of your lower stomach. with your nod of approval, bakugou meets his thighs to your ass, his cock tip pressing lightly against your virgin hole.

before bakugou could go any further, your soft sobs stop him. his head immediately snaps up to yours, his eyes wide with shock. your eyes are once again wet with tears, eyebrows arched and lips frowning.

"i know this is not very convenient, y/n, but if we don't do this, you'll die-", he tries to say before he's interrupted by your sobs and hiccups. through fat tears and incoherent sentences, you finally manage to say something clear.

"it's not that." you practically hiss, surprising the blonde. "..then what is it?" he urges, a confused expression forming on his face. with a loud sigh, you groan loudly with anger and sadness, practically throwing your hands to your face as you try to wipe away your never-ending tears.

"i d-didn't want it to be like t-this!" you sob loudly, your shoulders jumping with every hiccup. before bakugou could press any further, the years of untold suffering and thoughts just came rushing to you, spilling out of your mouth like vomit. "i-i didn't w-want it to be l-like this! to happen like this!"

"oh my g-god! bakugou i've been in love with you since i've m-met you—and it–it hurts—for it to happen this way—you're only doing this just b-because you f-feel obligated to do i-it—not because you l-love me—" you mumble out, hands covering your eyes to avoid seeing his reaction.

"for it to ha-happen this way—it's like a whole prank..! like a fucking—slap in the face!" you say, practically yelling the last part as your hands fly down to the bed with frustration, finally meeting bakugou's gaze. your sobs quiet down, stomach churning at the realization of the word vomit you just had.

you thought he would be weirded out, maybe even make fun of you for it. but instead, bakugou is now looking at you with an unfamiliar gaze, full of something that seems to just be more than politeness and friendly care. sure, he's not smiling, but the way his red eyes are half-lidded, pupils dilated so big they might as well just be black, his eyebrows no longer furrowed but instead arched upwards with what seems to be surprise.

before you could say anything else, waves of sharp pain are shot up your spine as bakugou unexpectedly pushes in the tip of his cock, his arms now finding purchase by wrapping around your waist, lowering himself closer to you.

his lips press yours, slow and steady as he inches his fat cock into you. he pulls away from your lips with a grunt, his eyebrows arched downwards as he tries to set aside the way your cunt feels so heavenly wrapped around the end of his cock.

"i'm sorry for how i've been treating you." he says lowly, his teeth nipping at the pristine skin of your collarbone. "i just didn't know how to tell you—didn't think you felt the s-same," he breathes out, stuttering the last word when your walls clench around his cock. bakugou curses under his breath, trying to ground himself by pawing at your clothed breasts, sliding his hands under your tank to feel the bare skin.

bakugou's words has fresh tears forming once again at your water line. "the same..?" you think out loud, a hiccup escaping your throat at the realization.

"f-fuck, y/n—," he chokes out, his balls becoming flush with the curve of your ass. "bakugou.. the same?" you urge on, a small gasp leaving your lips when his cock tip glazes against your sweet spot. it takes bakugou to find the strength to answer, but he does with a groan, rising his upper body to have a better look at the sight of you.

"..yes the same you dummy." he finally confirms, his eyes unable to lock with yours, instead choosing to glue themselves to the sight of your tight pussy swallowing his cock. without wasting another second, your hands fly to his nape, pulling him back down to kiss him roughly. the two of you moan into the kiss, your hands desperately exploring the skin of his back while his continue to grope and massage your breasts.

"hah—i just couldn't allow it.. i didn't want the others to have you.." he groans out, his hips speeding up against yours. his teeth bite at your breasts possessively, leaving dark red marks over the unmarked flesh. his possessiveness sends a shiver up your spine, making you impossibly more hornier than you thought possible.

"baku—katsuki," you mewl out, your fingernails digging trails of red into the skin of his back. his head nods silently at your use of his first name, his ears tingling intensely.

his head tilts up to face yours, unprepared for what you were about to say. "please fuck me. i need you."

with a few words of heavy profanity, all previously known touches of gentleness are thrown out the window and bakugou is throwing your leg over shoulder and practically folding you in half. bakugou is quick to cover your mouth with his palm, if not your screams of pleasure would be heard by all the other people in these dorms—and he's not quite on board with any nobodies hearing your pretty moans.

bakugou practically jackhammers his hips into yours, his cock tip bullying your cervix. your eyes roll to the back of your head at the foreign feeling of your cervix being fucked, of your cunt being mercilessly destroyed by a fat cock. your hand flies up to the head board, desperately attempting to find purchase on anything to keep you grounded.

his cock grazing your sweet spot has you screaming once more into his palm, creaming around him for the first time that night. "f-fuck—" bakugou curses loudly, his teeth drawing blood on his lower lip in an attempt to hide own moans.

your cunt walls have a vice grip on his cock, practical almost leaving him unable to move as you cum around him. still, bakugou works his hips in and out, doing everything in his power to prevent himself from cumming just yet.

in an last ditch effort to do so, bakugou lifts his palm up from your mouth, flipping your body so you lay onto your stomach. he's quick to shove his cock back into your overstimulated cunt, rutting into you like a dog in heat. bakugou doesn't find it within himself to care when you're moaning so loud that the first floor can probably hear you, neither does he care that he's fucking you so hard that the bed frame begins to slam against the wall.

all he cares about is destroying your cunt, destroying you, something he's been wanting to do since he's met you. "fuck, fuck, fuck, y/n you feel so fuckin' good—i'm gonna cum," he babbles, his cock growing hard at the sight of your fat ass bouncing with every impact of his thrusts.

you're no better off than him, moaning his name desperately like a mantra. bakugou finally comes with a sharp and deep thrust, pushing his cock so deep it has the tip flush with your bruised cervix. he groans incoherent words, most likely profanities, as he cums into the condom, his hands gripping on the swell of your hips as he tries to ground himself.

you cum just at the unmistaken warmth that pools inside of you, tongue lolling out of your mouth pathetically. your body twitches underneath his weight, hands weakly grabbing onto his biceps. "katssshuki.." you mewl out, stars practically twinkling in your eyes.

bakugou pulls out of you with a sharp inhale, taking off the filled condom. his cock twitches when you stop him just as he's about to throw away, taking the cum-filled latex from his hand and holding it over your mouth, allowing the cum to drip onto your tongue and into your throat.

he watches you with wide eyes as you practically suck the cum out of the condom before throwing it into the trash bin on the side of your bed. you look at him with a grin, licking your lips generously before giggling.

bakugou's face twitches uncontrollably, any remains of the composure and the obvious "better safe than sorry", he has left is discarded before he practically pounces on you like a wild beast.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bakugou is jolted awake, his eyes darting to the door of your room. theres a couple of knocks, his eyes look for your clock, '5:04 AM'.

he shuts his eyes, fully okay with ignoring the late visitor before theres more knocks. bakugou, begrudgingly, gets up, only because he doesn't want you to wake up.

he wraps his lower body in a spare blanket, taking a few seconds to rub awaken more before he's inching the door open, just barely enough to see who the visitor is. though, his shoulders relax when he sees it's just mr. aizawa at the door, most likely checking up on your state.

mr. aizawa blinks unexpectedly at bakugou, surely not expecting him to answer the door. his expression softens at the realization, being quick to offer an explanation. "i was just coming here to see if y/l/n was alright.. but i see it's under control, right?"

aizawa punctuates the last word of his sentence with the tilt of his head, his eyes pointing out bakugou's half-naked body. bakugou in response sheepishly shrugs, muttering out a groggy 'yeah' before closing the door.

he stands at the closed door for a second, rubbing his eyes tiredly before turning around to go back to bed, your bed more specifically. he stops in his tracks for a moment before continuing, seeing that you're now sitting up and staring at him.

"katsuki.." you breathe out tiredly, practically purring when you feel his hand settle onto your hip, bringing you back down onto the bed with him.

the two of you share a chaste kiss, departing only to get a short breathe in before you're pushing your body against his, deepening the kiss once more for the nth time that night.

please like and reblog with tags

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

I’M NOT HIM

rafe cameron x fem!reader

( mood board does NOT depict readers appearance !! )

SUMMARY: in which rafe snaps at reader during a heated argument and she flinches, her past trauma resurfacing. rafe breaking the main promise he made to her: to not be anything like her father.

based on an ask i got that i lost </3 i hope the anon who requested it finds this, and this its what you asked for! i’m a little rusty with one-shots so just a short one to ease me into things again! :)

WARNINGS: angst to fluff, arguing, cursing, mentions of past childhood abuse (reader), mentions of a gun/brief mention of violence, trauma responses, crying. (lmk if i missed anything!!)

WORD COUNT: 900 words

THIRD PERSON +

Rafe Cameron wasn’t the kind of man anyone would describe as soft. Not with the sharp edge in his voice, the perpetual storm behind his ocean eyes, and the way his knuckles bore scars from fights he barely remembered. He had spent his life battling demons, most of them inherited from Ward Cameron, and those fights had shaped him into someone who took no prisoners.

But with Y/N, none of that mattered.

Y/N was everything Rafe wasn’t—gentle, warm, full of an optimism he couldn’t begin to understand but adored nonetheless. She radiated light, the kind that made him want to shield her from the darkness in himself. For two years, she’d been his anchor, the one person who saw past the volatile exterior to the man buried beneath. And for two years, Rafe had promised himself that he would never hurt her.

But promises don’t always hold in the heat of the moment.

The argument had started over something Y/N had brought up before: the gun in Rafe’s apartment. She hated it, hated what it represented, and hated the memories it dragged up for her.

“Rafe, I told you,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “I don’t feel safe with it here. Please.”

Rafe, already wound tight from dealing with his father’s latest scheme and the growing weight of “the business,” felt his patience snap like a rubber band stretched too far.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” he muttered, pacing the living room. “It’s not like I’m walking around with it in my hand. It’s locked up, alright? Just drop it.”

Y/N didn’t drop it. She rarely did when something mattered to her. “It is a big deal, Rafe. I asked you to get rid of it. I thought you understood how—”

“I said fucking drop it!” Rafe’s voice thundered through the room, loud enough to make the walls seem smaller.

The words echoed in the sudden silence, bouncing off the tension between them. Rafe froze, immediately regretting the way he’d shouted, but it was too late.

Y/N stood there, trembling, her wide eyes glassy with unshed tears. Her lip wobbled as she tried to hold herself together, but Rafe saw the cracks forming.

“Baby…” he said softly, taking a step toward her, reaching out his hand.

She flinched. Actually flinched.

It was like a knife to his chest, sharp and unrelenting. He knew her past—knew about her father’s temper and the way it had scarred her. He knew that shouting brought her back to those dark, suffocating memories.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with panic. He reached out again, but she backed away, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“I—I can’t,” she choked out before rushing to the bedroom and shutting the door behind her.

Rafe rushed after her before collapsing onto the floor, pressing his back against the wall beside the bedroom door. He could hear her quiet sobs on the other side, each one driving the guilt deeper into his chest.

He buried his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, baby” he murmured, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to scare you. Please, just… let me make it right.”

Her sobs continued, muffled but heartbreaking. Rafe rested his head against the door, tears streaming down his face. He could picture her inside, curled up in the corner, just like she used to do as a little girl to shield herself from her father’s rage. A place he promised her she wouldn't ever have to go back to.

“I’m not him,” he whispered, as much to himself as to her. “I’ll never be him. I swear. I’ll never hurt you.”

Minutes turned into half an hour, but Rafe didn’t move. He felt he didn’t deserve to move.

When the door finally opened, Rafe almost didn’t notice at first. He’d been staring at the floor, lost in the heaviness of his own shame. But then Y/N was there, stepping out quietly and kneeling beside him.

Without a word, she crawled into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. Her touch was tentative, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she could trust it yet, but Rafe held her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over, his voice cracking as he clung to her. “I didn’t mean it. I swear, Y/N/N. I’m so sorry.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away. She just held him, letting his warmth chase away the cold that had settled in her chest. Eventually, she pulled back just enough to look at him, her tear-streaked face breaking his heart all over again.

“Please don’t yell at me like that again,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

Rafe cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing away her tears. “I won’t,” he promised, his tone fierce with conviction. “Never again. I’ll get rid of the gun. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. Just… don’t be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Y/N said, her voice barely audible. “I’m afraid of the person you might become.”

Rafe nodded, the weight of her words sinking deep. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her tightly again. “I’ll be better,” he whispered. “For you, I’ll be better.”

In that moment, Rafe vowed to prove it. Not with words, but with actions—starting with the gun.

(dividers by @kodaswrld <3)

betty’s notes ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

ahhhh my first one-shot in FOREVER :’) it’s a short one and really sad and angsty but it felt like the quickest ask to whip out, and angst is easier for me to write atm :)

i’m so excited to start with the other requests, and please don’t stop requesting! i plan on writing most stuff 1,500 words +, this was just a short little ask so please request with as MUCH detail as possible <3

master list will be updated soon! but for now, to keep track of my works check my personalised tags that are below such as: #bettys asks!! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ and #bettys work!! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ or my personalised tags for characters !!

[targaryenluvs]

DELICATE

pairings: dark!coriolanus snow x innocent!wife!reader

warnings: erm we’re back at it with another dark corio! possessiveness, literal murder, threats, vulgarity, nc touching -dumbification/babying, emotional manipulation and vulnerability, sexual undertones and thoughts, ownership?? NOT PROOFREAD

summary: coriolanus had to marry. lucky for him one of the most eligible girls of the capitol was up for grabs. only problem? he hoped his cold exterior would keep her away but nothing broke her sweet spirit. what happens when he finds himself being drawn to her light? and how far was he willing to go to keep it untainted and all to himself?

word count: 2.09k words

a/n: i swear i can only think of dark ideas for him because he is practically crayz - i loved this concept tho so enjoyyyy - annoyed i can’t find any post-lucy gifs snd i’ve already used the other one help me plz

taglist: @sleepydang @aspieundercover @darktrashsoulbear @3lliesrifle @rafeysbafey @zejjef @themorriganisamonster @cryfordemie @winterblu2 @earthangel-111 @taylarxse @alexameliamg @katastrophic04 @jjggdfvvy @joshwifeyslaymamaballs @10ava01 @kis9na @princessdaella @princessloveweird @prettybiching @justacaliforniandreamer @bxtchopolis @witchafterz @har-rison-s

PART TWO

coriolanus wanted nothing more than a relaxing night. he’d been at a campaign meeting for about four hours and he’d gotten absolutely nothing out of it.

he was in the right mind to fire them all and work it himself but he knew he couldn’t. all he wanted was to go home, have a bath drawn for him, eat dinner with you and go to sleep.

coriolanus had seen a number of weird things in his life but nothing was weirder than seeing you, hanging up the laundry to dry. you’d stopped him in his tracks but hadn’t yet noticed his presence as you hummed to yourself and went about your business. after staring in confusion for a few minutes he cleared his throat, “y/n. what are you doing?” you turned towards him with a smile, “it’s christmas! so i sent the staff home for the rest of the day so they could be with their families. don’t worry i had them prepare your bath, dinner and everything else. there were some things left to do so i thought, why not do them myself? i cleaned my room and yours, ironed the previous batch of laundry and placed them away, dusted the library and i was hanging up the laundry until you showed!” you beamed as you continued to hang the clothing.

coriolanus took a seat on one of the lawn chairs as you continued. he decided to watch you, to make sure you were okay. because who on earth wants to do laundry? that was the very reason you had so many servants. but here you were.

“you can head inside corio, no need to wait for me!” you said sweetly. coriolanus was a strong man, always rational. but god when you spoke so sweetly to him- no. “there’s no need, i’ll wait till you’re done.”

the sun was hanging low as the last rays illuminated the dining room. you’d set out candles, flowers and other pieces on the table. back home you loved setting the table, until your father would reprimand you for doing something you didn’t need to. what will people say if my daughter is acting as a servant?

but right now you felt at ease.

you had a good life. good friends which were rare to find in the capitol. good family and a good husband. he was proper, took care of you in every way, even if he didn’t love you, you were grateful to be married to someone you liked. admired. you’d heard whispers of corio’s childhood, his depleted resources and poor upbringing. but you couldn’t care less. he was more of a man than anyone you knew. and he was extremely pretty, your parents would’ve probably married you off to whomever they thought would help with social standings so this match? a lifeline.

coriolanus kept himself in check. he was up for presidency, his name and wealth restored and he was respected and feared. you were a diamond in the rough. whilst all the other girls in the capitol were, special, to say the least, you weren’t like them. first of all, he could tolerate you. like you even. you were exceptionally smart, well-read and spoken, respectful of those worthy but even those beneath you. you were kind, not the fake kind of the capitol. kind to everyone, helping everyone however you could.

and to him it was more than perfect. someone kind would be easy to have, easy to be married to. he knew from the second he saw you as marriage material that you’d never endanger those around you. you cared, enough to put your happiness to the back of the line. you’d be easy to control. after the wedding he expected you to be clingy, desperate for his love and affection. as any girl would from their husband, but you kept your distance. you didn’t push yourself on him, you did your duty. you did what was required and more. but you always listened, listened to him.

so he assumed you’d be easy to be married to, but he was always in awe of you. your sweet smiles every time you passed eachother in the halls, in the morning at breakfast and at night for dinner. always catering to him.

“what should i wear?” “you can choose.” “you tell me.” “it’s your choice.” and god did it inflate his ego. you were always asking about him, how his day was, what he did, who he saw etc. but it wasn’t just small talk, you were always listening. absorbing his words like a sponge, wide eyes, head nodding along dumbly. he loved it. and over the year he found himself, caring, on the inside at least.

every time you’d go out there were hungry eyes consuming you. your face, body everything. and he wanted to personally pluck out each eyeball and feed it to their families. so again, overtime, he’d shield you, protect you. his sweet wife who knew nothing of what the others wanted to do to her. a hand on your back, an arm around your waist, a peck on your forehead and his large red coat around you. all for show right?

he wanted to puke.

the smell of cabbage wafted to his nose and he was oh so close to putting this fist through the wall. who on earth-

you were humming, again. “corio!” your voice was music to his ears, corio, no one said it to him anymore. not even tigris. but he only liked, only wanted it to come from you. “dinner is served, some of your favourites are here. i asked tigris what you use to eat as a kid. ooh, you never told me you liked cabbage, me too! guess that’s another thing we have in common.” you beamed as you walked over with a bottle of wine, “tell me when to stop.”

he eyed you up the entire time. trying to catch a fleck of disgust whilst you ate, andddd, nothing. you weren’t lying, you actually liked it. he swallowed his own fear and began to eat.

“mm, i was wondering what you wanted me to wear tonight? i’d like to match corio, if that’s okay with you.” corio smiled slightly, “i would like to match. i have something i would like you to wear tonight sweetheart.” your eyes darted forwards as the word fell, sweetheart.

you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face, he only used terms like that in public. and based on his reaction afterwards, of which there was none, it meant that he probably didn’t even realise. or he did, you could never read him.

the red dress did things to coriolanus. the idea of you in it has his head spinning, but to actually see you in it? he wanted to throw you onto his bed and never let you out.

but to you it looked as if he was studying the dress rather than looking at you in it. “you look good.” you grinned, “thank you corio! i love your suit, you look very handsome.” you straightened his suit as he looked over your shoulder, your back was bare. “do you have a throw?” you quickly nodded and picked it up from the dresser. “good.” you already got a million stares in ordinary clothing, tonight was going to test his patience and anger.

the gala was gorgeous. for once there wasn’t ugly statues and weird color matches. a clean and pristine white hall, chandeliers, gold accents.

your heels clicked on the floor as coriolanus held his arm for you. “your hand please.” corio stared, waiting for your further explanation. “when we link arms your arm is too high for me. i end up with my arm at my neck.” you laughed as he lent his hand, which you gladly took.

stares and compliments at every corner of the room, everyone was looking at you two. the future president and first lady of panem. a match made in the capitol. you and coriolanus made the rounds, talking to present sponsors, potential sponsors and other candidates, much to coriolanus’s distaste. after a while you realised you were sort of just standing there, so you excused yourself for a drink and a closer view of the band.

“you look, ravishing.” charles operman. a sight which no one wanted to see, but to you he was just an ex-peer of the academy. “charles! thank you, corio picked it out for me.” you’d missed the way his jaw clenched at the mention of your husband, but you were to engrossed by the angelic singer and band. “you know, i always thought we’d end up together.”

the abruptness of his sentence had you choking on your drink, “excuse me, i’m married charles. i’m sorry if you thought that we would be together, i see you as a friend. i’d hate to lose a friend.” you smiled as he got uncomfortably closer and leaned into your ear, hand on your bare back.

coriolanus’s grip on his cup was tightening as he listened to lucky drone on and on. he wanted to see the life leave charles’s eyes, maybe his head would make as a nice present for you. “excuse me.” he nodded his head as he placed his cup on a passing waiters tray. you were helpless, and he was here to help you.

his breath was hot in your ear and you could smell the liquor on him as he was grabbed from you. “coriolanus, sir.” charles mocked salute as coriolanus stared at him, maybe he thought if he stared long enough hed burn into the floor. coriolanus rarely smiled, but this one was unsettling to say the least.

“if you ever put your hands on my wife, look at her, speak to her. it will be the last time you do so. i might just call in a favor with dr gaul, i hear your fond of snakes?” charles’s eyes widened, he hated snakes. he couldn’t even watch the 10th hunger games, the second he saw the snakes he ran to the bathroom and hurled.

“when i become president, you better keep yourself in line. it’d be horrible to see your family in the games no?” charles took a step back, “you can’t do that, i’m capitol.” coriolanus drew back,

“you won’t be for long.”

you couldn’t believe your eyes, of course he’d protect you but, threatening? he’d never do it right? the shutters of cameras had you reaching for corio, “can we leave my love?” coriolanus turned to you, “of course sweetheart.”

he’d stayed up for a long time. a smile came to his face when he remembered the sound of charles’s neck snapping. the door creaking open revealed a disheveled you, “corio? are you awake?” he sat up as you released a breath.

“what is it y/n?” you took a shy step forward, “i uhm, i can’t stop thinking about charles. he scared me, i didn’t know what to do corio. i-” you couldn’t stop the tears from falling as coriolanus swiftly got out of bed, helping you into his bed. “i- can i sleep here tonight? please?”

this was definitely not how he first expected to have you in his bed, but how could he say no to you? your hair in its braid, messy and lose, puffy eyes and tear stained face. he wished he’d first seen you cry underneath him but he’d take what he could get. what he didn’t expect was for him to like this, the scene of you crying, needing him. he was the one who could help you, console you, coddle you.

coriolanus nodded as he moved back to the bed, tucking himself and you in softy, caressing your hair and kissing your forehead. god he’d held out for so long, denied himself and his feelings but having you in his arms was all he could ever want, but the idea of being in you flooded his head.

would you cry like this? would you shout and scream? did you like it soft and sweet? he couldn’t be soft and sweet, he’d savour the moment but he loved the idea of unravelling you, he’d be the only one to see you like this, him being the only one to make it happen.

you curled into his chest, like a baby. your soft cries and whimpers went straight to his crotch and soon enough you were asleep.

his sweetheart, his delicate little wife.

corios hand slipped downwards and into your pants, he promised himself he just wanted to feel but god you made it difficult. he saved you tonight, didn’t he deserve a reward? didn’t matter if you detested he had you where he liked. so he slowly rolled over and placed you on the bed.

your eyes fluttered at the change of placement but he couldn’t care less. he was done waiting.

you squirmed underneath him in your sleep but his worries faded away.

[screampied]

໒꒱ ₊˚ ‘ RIDE DA D!CK LIKE A CARNIVAL ! ’﹒⺡

geto, choso, gojo, toji, nanami.

જ warnings. fem! reader, riding, cowgirl / reverse, praise, degredation, shotgunning, (toji) overstim, impact play, size kink, unprotected, breeding, cőckwarming, toy usage, nípple play, mdni.

𖢺 CHOSO KAMO.

“princess, wait,” choso huffs out. he leans back, still gradually catching his breath whilst you straddled him. he swallowed thickly, dark irises staring right into yours. his gaze lingers down your body, and he lets off a soft pout at the feeling of being so buried deep into you. “i- i can go again, want you to ride me,” and then he pauses, running a hand through his hair. “oh. i mean—please. if you still have energy.”

“okay baby,” you hum, and your voice was so smooth. the way you called him your baby, it had him so weak. choso stared intently as you playfully give him a soft shove on his back. “just lie back ‘n let me ride you, yeah?”

choso’s heavily panting, he goes mute for a split second and it’s if as words was practically nonexistent for him. with a raring nod, he brings two big hands towards your hips.

“good boy,” you murmur, pressed right up against his ear. you were merely teasing. although, you felt his dick twitch eagerly inside you. choso’s fingers softly stroke against your waist, and he moans once you start to move your hips forward. he’s still so sensitive from before, just barely over the intense mess he made — and now, you were about to make an even bigger one.

“oh f-fuckkk,” he drags out. it was awfully cute, choso’s pitchy deep voice turning out to be far more whiney than he intended. you were gripping him tightly, hugging him with your walls before not even seconds go by and he throws his head back. “yeah, yeahhh. ride me like that, fuck me, fuck me good, princess. please.”

he leans back before groaning at the way your walls grip around him, hugging him so tightly. choso can’t keep his hands off of you, he runs the tips of his fingers against the edges of your waist before pouting. “harder, f-faster.”

you’d giggle, leaning in to kiss his nose. “are you rushing me, baby?”

“n-nooo,” he breathes, and he feels you gradually grinding your hips against him. you stare at choso’s face—beads of sweat race down the sides of his forehead, and he whimpers. “your hips, ‘s killing me. so good,” and he’s just rambling to you by this point. it was adorable, the way his jaw would clench or tighten. the angle you had against him made his mind spiral. his cock reached deep, hitting all the right spots to even elicit a sweet moan or two from you as well.

choso’s panting, you playfully run a finger down his bare chest and he grunts. you had an compelling rhythm, making him only want you more. he lets off a sweet whine once you lean right up to his ear, whispering a sweet, “don’t be shy, baby. you can hold my hips.”

“fuck y-your voice ‘s gonna make me cum,” he babbles, bringing his rough hands towards your waist once more. he was so cute, far sensitive from his recent release. choso was gentle with his touch but his fingers were no stranger towards your body, roaming all over your hips sensually.

the sounds your pussy made in retaliation, squelch after squelch — it rang in his ears. it drove him dizzy, his mind was in for a loop.

choso’s eyes sexily roll back, and a tiny smile presses against his lips. you watch as he removes one hand from your waist, reaching above him to hold onto the headboard. his biceps, they curled and flexed and it made you stare a bit too long.

“how’s it feel? is it good?” you’d hum, leaning in to sneak a kiss near the corner of his mouth. his lips twitch, and it's so cute.

“you always make me feel good, princess,” he huffs out, one arm wrapping around you. your rhythm . . it was purely hypnotizing, you knew just how to take him.

so much of his inches burying into you, you made sure not to bounce your hips but grind. adding just a bit of pressure—he loves when you start to get a bit sloppy. the way he’s leaning back, it was unintentionally attractive.

it doesn’t take long before choso was approaching another heavily anticipated orgasm. he felt it, and he squeezed your hips with a cute needy look in his eyes. “i-i’m gonna make a mess again,” and his breathing cutely picks up. choso pulls you closer towards him. you don’t expect for him to bring his mouth towards your chest, softly lapping his tongue against your perky nipples. “gonna, ‘m gonna cum.”

“m-make a mess for me, baby,” you moaned, making your hips slow down just a bit so he could stimulate your nipples with his tongue. “it’s okay.”

your words were so smooth, he got off to simply your tone. it was building up and up—his thigh continued to bounce. and for yet a second time, he whimpers out once he feels himself pouring inside of you. a thick stringy load, ropes and ropes of his cum filling inside of your sweet cunt.

“f-fuck,” he’d whine, and it was as if everytime choso sweared, it made him ten times cuter. you giggle, panting yourself before kissing near his nose. choso’s eyes—he could barely keep them open. “ride me,” he pauses between his words, and you watch as he leans back, bringing a hand towards between your legs to feel his mess he created inside you. “ride me again, and a-again, and again….please.”

𖢺 NANAMI KENTO.

with nanami, he prefers for you to ride him whenever — especially whenever he gets home from work. a long tiring day at work, he loves coming home to you in hopes that you’d ride all of his pent up stress away. and you certainly do, happily.

“i missed my wife,” he’d grumble, and he was so knackered. you could hear it in his voice, whenever nanami was a bit drowsy his tone would deepen a bit. he was so tender with his touch against your hips. softly tracing against your skin to make you nearly lose your mind. “and i really missed these hips.”

you sat still with nanami’s dick being stuffed deep inside of your pussy. just a single move and he’d be even deeper. the thought of that made you salivate. he knew he was big just as much as you did. always the perfect size for you, never otherwise.

“good girl. get niiiice ‘n comfortable for me, okay?” and his words went straight down between your legs, you let off a moan once you buried your face into his neck. his strong scented cologne he had on all day at work wafts against your nose.

“okay…okay,” you’d mutter, feeling his big hands make its way towards your ass. he was always so handsy, allowing his rough hands to meander and roam all over your rear. you shiver a bit, feeling the coldness of his watch band run across your skin. “s-so big, kento.”

“ah. don’t hide that pretty face from me my love,” he’d purr, making you sit upright to face him. once you start to move—he grips your waist with one hand, another cupping your face.

nanami brings you into a loving kiss the moment you start to jerk your hips forward. you moan into his mouth, skimming your tongue against his and he even grunts lowly. a smile pokes near the corner of his lips before you hear him chuckle.

he adored how weak he had you for him, your hips stutter the more he swiftly runs a finger against your waist. once he pulls away, strings of pretty spit departing — he huffs out a sweet, “are you gonna move or do i have to do all the work like usual, sweetheart?”

“s-sorry,” you’d pant, and he was merely teasing. nanami simpers at the cute pout spreading on your lips and you start to adapt to a sweet sweet rhythm. he was so thick, stretching out your walls with such ease. nanami groans, he was still in his work clothes. long black slacks of his were just lazily pulled down and he had a button up shirt. his worn out collar was covered with nothing but a few smeared marks of your lipstick. “f-fuckkk, kento.”

nanami’s breath gets caught in his throat, feeling how wisely you used your hips against him. the lights in the room were dim. a few sweetened candles lit, the perfect romantic scene.

nanami stared at you with such a look of love, a soft smirk purses on his lips before he pulls you closer towards him.

“always know how to make me feel good, my love,” he murmurs against your ear. his voice was a low rasp. nanami’s face started to get a bit flustered once you started to moan directly into his ear. “i know, i knowww,” and he was talking you through everything in that smooth rich voice. it got you ten times wetter than you already were. you didn’t even know if that was possible. “keep looking at me, sweetheart. i wanna get lost in my wife’s pretty eyes.”

your started to whine once his dick reaches a pivotal spot. so deep, you feel him expand anywhere and everywhere like it was nothing. as you stared into his pretty brown eyes, you quickened your pace by a few simple thrusts. nanami returns your gaze, and he’s so in love that he can’t help but smile as you’re completely losing yourself on him.

“kento, k-kento, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you’d start to babble after a while—you felt a bit woozy, leaning into his neck to softly suck against his skin. you nipped near the inner part of his collarbone, and he lets off a low groan. nanami leans back a little, just a little… and once he feels you grind in a back and forth motion he nearly loses it. so slow, the repetitive motion made his jaw tighten. you slip out a whimper once his cock prods against your g-spot, and your hands yank onto the fabric of his shirt.

“the pretty girl’s gonna cum on me, hm?” nanami teases, feeling you spread your legs against him a little bit. he brings a kiss towards your chin before bringing both hands towards your waist again. “look at that face, so cute ‘n needy,” and he can’t help but kiss you again. as you rocked back and forth, rotating your hips in long circles . . . he starts to pant himself. you start to nibble on his tongue and he chuckles, squeezing your waist before you whimpered.

once you came, it was so powerful. a bundle of nerves coursing all through your veins—you were speechless, breaking away from his lips before wrapping your arms around nanami. he found it cute at how you came a bit earlier than usual, but nonetheless he still made sure to praise you. “what a good girl,” he mutters in a husky voice before softly caressing your ass. “my good girl.”

𖢺 GOJO SATORU.

“pft. girl pleaseee,” gojo scoffs with a snort. he was so sassy, way too sassy for even his own good. he leaned back against the chair as you straddled his lap. “you wanna ride me while i wear my blindfold? easy, knock yourself out.”

“and you can’t touch me either,” you roll your eyes at him. he snickers with an attitude, not used to people matching his cocky energy.

a pout goes on his lips before he mutters, “whatever….fine,” and it’s so cute. he loved touching you whenever you rode him, so you can just imagine how he’d act right now. gojo sits up straight, and he watches as you drag his blindfold that was half on his face—moving it right down to shield his eyes. he can practically feel you glaring at him and he grumbles. “i won’t cheat or try anything, hmph.”

“good satoru.”

“the nerve,” he grouses cutely. “shut up.”

gojo grows quiet the moment you start to align yourself, he was definitely long. long and lengthy, staggering inches that was enough to stretch you out for hours. not even a second goes by and he whines once you make him pin his arms back.

perhaps he was a bit too cocky though, because he desperately wanted to grab onto your waist whilst you rode him. his tip was leaky, dripping profusely with his own pre-cum. his breathing was slow, becoming a bit irregular once you started to gradually sink down on his length.

“aw. for the strongest, he’s got such a cute little pout.” you tease, and he lets off a choked gasp once you start to move. you’d bet money gojo was glaring at you - but his eyes were hidden away, so you’d have no idea.

that made you smile, he lets off a husky groan the moment he feels you create up a slow yet steady pace. whether he wanted to admit it or not, gojo was no match for your hips. your hips, probably the only thing he’d fight against and lose. proudly though, he loved having you on top—despite being a brat about it or not. “heh, baby, if you’re gonna fuck me, go faster would ya? ‘m gonna fall asleep at this r-rate.”

and he literally eats his words the moment you push him back against the cushion. he found you doing things like this to be so hot. your pussy had him in a chokehold, no doubt. your torso was upright and your thighs briefly moved with your movements in sync. this angle, it had his head spinning. he wanted to touch you so bad, to see your face — but he couldn’t, and it made him pout even more.

“mhm. lot better.”

“do you ever shut up?” you snicker, leaning in to kiss near the corn ever of his mouth.

“so r-rude,” he’d moan, and he had to admit he was always quite talkative. especially during intimate times like this. each time you pressed a wet kisses against his mouth, his lips would twitch. he wanted more and more, becoming entirely greedy for more of your sweet touch. he was so shoved deep inside you, you felt him reach everywhere. his dick twitched inside you in more ways than you could count. “lucky i can’t see you right now. bet you got the most s-stupidest look on your face.”

“maybe i should have taped your mouth shut too.” you roll your eyes, swaying your hips in a circular addicting motion. it made gojo moan, his thighs aching for more as you continuously went against him.

“damn, that’s—kinda kinky,” he murmurs in a low tone, huffing out a single breath. “maybe you should have.”

despite gojo putting up a pompous front, trying to act like he’s not about to cum for the umpteenth time—you kiss near his neck to make him let off a moan. “you wanna touch me so bad.”you whisper, licking near his neck to hear his breathing hitch. you’re steady with your hips, and he swallows thickly before feeling himself start to approach that familiar finish. you’re so pressed up against him, your body heat forevermore clashes against his. the moment you jerk forward for about the dozenth time, gojo whines before he ends up shooting inside your cunt.

he’s panting heavily, heaving as he trickles ropes inside of you — you moan yourself as he stays still. your hips pause and he feels the tips of his ears grow a scorching hot. “i can feel ya smiling at me,” he grumbles, his abs flexing the more huffed breaths he took. you smile, kissing underneath his chin for a final time before removing his blindfold. his hair was all messy and ruffled, and gojo’s face grows flustered. “…don’t look at me like that. i’d still top you any day.”

“okay, princess. whatever you say..”

“….”

𖢺 SUGURU GETO.

“go ahead ‘n lie back,” he murmurs in a soft smooth voice. a voice that had you soaking from underneath. your panties were still on, just barely though.

with strings lazily pulled to the side, you were propped up against geto and he has his chin softly resting on your collarbone.

“good girl,” he whispers once your back meets direct contact with his chest. by this point, you were basically cockwarming him. he stood tall and still inside you—geto groans, nipping a kiss near the inner part of your neck before uttering, “you have that toy i bought for you, angel?”

“y-yes,” you immediately reply. your voice was so shaky and soft. just a few touches from geto and you were easily stumbling over your words.

he feels you reach beside him, near the nightstand to grab the pretty pink wand he bought you as a surprise. not even wanting to waste time, you turn the switch on and with a loud buzz — it vibrates a singing tune.

“suguru,” you’d whimper out, trying to move your hips but he holds you steady in place. “can i move please?”

“you may,” he says in a low undertone. he brings a hand over you and grabs onto your wrist. you let off a moan once he holds the toy with you, bringing it between your achey clit. “spread your legs a little bit more for me. good, perfect.”

you gasp, feeling him gently rub the head of the toy against your clit whilst you were starting to grind. geto groans, feeling your left hand dig into his thigh.

“s-suguruuu,” you’d sob out, your lips cutely pursing together. he was very much thick, your thighs quivered and quavered from the sensitive stimulation. “fuck, ‘s good. turn it up a little more p-pretty please.”

he smiles, hearing you use such graceful manners like a good girl — his good girl.

geto goes through with your wish, turning the level up a single notch and you moan. sucking in a sharp breath, this position was so lewd. riding geto in reverse, it was heavily g-spot friendly. you went slow, moving your hips in the same recurrent rotation. it makes him bite his lip, his eyes flickering down towards your ass.

“so good for me,” he whispers against your ear. yet that’s when geto pulls you closer into him, biting softly near your neck. the vibrations had you trembling all in his lap, every nerve throughout your body, you felt its presence introduce itself.

geto snickers, feeling you grab onto his hand, moving the toy up and down against the entrance of your clit. in such a sensual manner too—he starts to whisper such filthy things against your ear while you’re getting off. “hear how wet you are for me, baby? so sloppy. pussy’s just talkin’ back to me. no fuckin’ manners, ‘s kinda cute.”

his words, it was so dirty.

you could barely process anything. you panted, staring right in front where a mirror was stood tall. the lewd reflection of you, you’re laid back against geto’s bare chest, slowly rotating your hips. your legs start to shake more and more from the toy’s vibration. teeth clenching, eyelids lowering, it was purely euphoric..

geto’s knees were raised just a bit to better support himself, and he brings a hand around your waist. his touch, it never failed to make you weak. he filled your pussy up with so many thick inches of his cock, his girth nearly had you drooling.

“easy, girl,” he whispers once you start to fasten your pace a bit. you were getting so close, you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue. his words stirred up butterflies in your stomach, and you moan once geto moves the toy aside just to take matters into his own hands. he starts to rub against your slick entrance himself, feeling just how soaked you were, mindlessly throbbing.

if it was anything geto was good with, it was his fingers. he snickers against your ear, maneuvering sweet circles against your cunt before your thighs start to lock and tremble. by this point, you were slowing down and you whimpered, feeling a familiar feeling brew up.

milliseconds later, he coaxed an orgasm out of you like it was nothing. your body felt limp, and you cutely went back against him, pant after pant. “awww,” geto hums, and his dick remains still inside of you. geto removed his lengthy fingers, only to bring them towards your face. “open wide for me, baby. taste how much of a mess you made on me,” and without a second of hesitation, you part your lips, moving your tongue, and take his fingers right into your mouth. you moaned, making your hips start up again because you wanted more — it was salacious, tasting your sweetness all on his fingers, lapping it up. “such a messy baby. should make you clean my cock up next with that pretty tongue of yours.”

𖢺 TOJI FUSHIGURO.

with toji, he’d have you riding him whilst he’s watching some movie or tv show. it’s playing in the background, and he has to keep turning the volume up notch after notch to drown out your cute moans. “doll, y’er gonna make me miss the good part.”

you huff out a single hitched breath, wrapping your arms over him. it was your idea to ride him, he didn’t mind, not in the slightest. toji was smoking too — a perfectly rolled up blunt sticking out near the corner of his lips. toji brings a rough hand towards your head, giving you a stiff pat.

he was so big, regardless of how many countless times you took him. you could never get used to his size. his cock stretched your walls out so easily, it had you drooling for more.

his base thwacked against you the more you piston your hips, moving back and forth in a repetitive rhythm. toji’s attention was mainly focused on the movie, a raspy chortle leaving his lips from the cheesy written dialogue.

he spots you glaring at him and he smirks. “what? can’t you see i’m busy.”

“pay attention to me,” you whine, and toji only snickers at your cute needy tone. your pussy wrapped around him, a tight snug and an even more perfect fit. your rhythm was smooth, it was a perfect mixture of not too slow — yet not too fast either.

as you stared into toji’s dark eyes, his senses was severely heightened and he takes the blunt from his lips before raising a brow. “gimme a kiss.”

“eh. don’t gotta give you shit,” he mocks your tone, making a pout form in your lips. he was such an insufferable tease, his left hand spanks your ass sharply, earning out a sweet whimper from you. toji caresses it afterwards, only to spank it again. “say pretty please. go ‘head, talk to me nice, little girl.”

you cutely glare before looking down, clawing near his perfectly toned chest. “i— can i have a kiss, pretty please?”

“it’s may i, not can i.”

“toji!”

he slyly smiles, rolling his dark green eyes. “i’m just fuckin’ with you,” and he brings a hand towards your ass yet again. his touch was so smooth, tracing your curves gingerly all against your waist. “c’mere ’n open y’er mouth.” he was balls deep, buried to the hilt and he lightly groans from feeling your warmth swallow him.

you were so toasty inside, you inch closer towards his face before opening your mouth slightly. toji licks his lips briefly, his tongue dragging against his scar before he blows smoke right into your mouth. you whine again from his teasing and he smirks. “oh. the baby’s still not satisfied?”

“want a kiss,” you pout, your weight just hovering over him. he felt your rhythm slow down and he chuckles — seeing you grow frustrated with your eyebrows curling into an irritated furrow. toji grabs your chin, and he pulls you right into him. you moaned, feeling him smack your ass to start riding him again. “t-toji please.”

“such a needy baby. always wanting a kiss,” and he gives you that kiss you so desperately yearned for. you whimper in his mouth, tasting how sweet he was. he places his blunt back near his tray and you were handsy, wrapping both arms over him. he chuckles, feeling you start to rock against him, his swollen cock was so fat inside of you—you just imagined the thought of him dumping yet another sloppy load into you. toji grunts, feeling you start to suck on his tongue, he leans back against the sofa while you deepen the kiss even further.

he groans, a hand curling around your throat, softly running a finger down the middle part of your neck before he briefly pulls away. toji’s eyes were half-lidded and right before he was about to finish inside of you, he pushes you aside to stare at the movie. black end credits were rolling and he grumbles. “tch. made me miss the ending.”

“s-sorry.” you mumble, catching your breath. you clearly wanted more . . still, he was stuffing you full with thick inches of his cock. you let off a gasp once toji lightly jostled you off of him. you land with a ‘oof’ — face flat on the sofa before he brings your ass a spank.

“yeah right,” he grumbles, grabbing his blunt again to stick it right between his teeth. he sucks through the air of the joint before groaning at your teasing arch. “know one way you can make it up to me. jus’ bend over ‘n face straight just for me, girl.”

[parkerslatte]

Different

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

Summary: Ever since Feyre arrived at Velaris, they have only ever known Azriel a stoic and mostly serious. But once his wife comes home, she sees a different side to him.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Feyre watched as Azriel stood by the window. His shadows moved over his shoulders and around his ear as if whispering something to him. The expression on Azriel’s face was his same neutral one that only ever seemed to change the smallest amount. And only ever in the presence of the Inner Circle and even then there would only be a small hint of a smile. 

It was late at night and everyone was enjoying a relaxing night with a few bottles of Rhys’s expensive alcohol. So far, Azriel hadn’t moved from his place at the window, his back was rigid as if he was expecting something, though that was the only indicator that he was. His face was his usual stoicism, giving nothing away. 

“Az, are you ever going to get away from that window anytime soon?” Cassian complained. 

Azriel turned his attention to Cassian and scowled. “I’m busy.”

“Not busy enough to spend time with the people you love,” Cassian teased. 

“Az, sit down, you won’t miss anything,” Rhys chimed in. 

With a final look through the window, Azriel walked over to the rest of the Inner Circle and sat in the armchair. His back was tense and he was not fully relaxed. Ever since Feyre had known him he had always been somewhat alert to everything. 

While everyone continues with the card game, Feyre couldn’t help but pay more attention to Azriel than to the game. Like Feyre, Azriel didn’t seem to be paying any attention to the game either. Instead he stared at the table in front of him completely lost in thought. 

Elain, who was sitting on the floor beside Mor, looked up to Azriel. “It’s your turn,” she said. 

“Oh,” Azriel said before picking a card out of his hand and placing it on top of the pile. 

“That isn’t a card you can even put on top,” Cassian complained. 

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Does it matter? You change the rules when you’re losing anyway.”

“I do not!” Cassian exclaimed. “I take this game seriously.”

“Until you are losing,” Nesta mumbled under her breath. 

Cassian began to argue back, clearly becoming outnumbered in his argument. Feyre only watched on with amusement. 

However everything was quickly interrupted by a new voice, one Feyre had never heated before, cut through the argument. 

“I leave you all alone for a few years and everything goes to shit?” 

Everything goes silent as everyone stares at the beautiful female who had just entered the room. Before Feyre could even process everything, Azriel threw his cards back down on the table and rushed up to the female.

The female giggled in delight as Azriel’s arms wrapped around her and swung her around. Feyre looked at her two sisters, each of them held the same expression she did. Confusion. 

What shocked Feyre the most about the situation was the bright and wide smile stretching across Azriel’s face. She had only noticed now that he had dimples. 

“I missed you so much,” Azriel mumbled. 

“It has only been a few months for you,” the female replied. 

“That is too long for me. I always wish for you to be next to me,” Azriel replied and pressed his lips against the females. His arms circled her waist, making sure there wasn’t a single gap between their bodies. The female threaded her fingers through his hair, causing Azriel to sigh in delight. Feyre couldn’t help but feel surprised by this display of affection from Azriel. 

Feyre leaned back against Rhys. “Who is that?”

“Azriel’s mate and wife,” Rhys answered.

“What?” Feyre exclaimed. “None of you have ever mentioned her before.”

“That was Azriel’s decision,” Rhys replied, filling up his glass. “You see, Y/N works as a researcher all over the continent for me so she is rarely ever here so none of us can protect her. Azriel has made a lot of enemies over the years and if he were tied to her, she could be put in even more danger.”

“When was the last time they saw each other?” Elain interjected. 

“For Azriel a few months ago,” Rhys answered. “Those two weeks just before Solstice when Azriel wasn’t here, he was on the continent with her.”

Feyre watched as Azriel buried his head into Y/N’s  neck, holding her against him tightly. Feyre smiled at the sight. 

“It has been at least two years since the rest of us have last seen Y/N,” Cassian chimed in. “It would be nice of her to greet the rest of us.”

Y/N pulled away from Azriel to smile at everyone else. “Give me a break, Cass. If you were to go without a hug from your mate in a few months, you wouldn't be jumping to greet everyone else first.”

“She knows about us?” Nesta asked. 

Cassian nodded. “Whenever Azriel meets up with her, she always asks about you all. Apparently she has been excited to meet you all.” 

Feyre watched as Azriel and Y/N walked over to join the group. Azriel’s gaze never left Y/N for a single second. Feyre’s gaze shifted down to their joined hands. She hid her smile behind her glass. 

Y/N quickly greeted Rhys, Cassian and Mor with a hug and she gave a small nod to Amren. 

Azriel sat down on the armchair first and as Y/N was about to sit in the arm of it, Azriel pulled her down so she sat in his lap instead. His arms locked around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. Feyre was sure she had never seen him look so happy before, so at ease. The smile on his face was one Feyre had never seen. 

“It is great to finally meet you three,” Y/N said, her gaze flicking between Feyre, Nesta and Elain. “This one here,” she said, reaching to cup Azriel’s cheek, “has told me a lot about you.”

“It is great to meet you,” Feyre said with a smile. 

“So now that introductions have finished,” Cassian begins, “can we get back to the game now? I was about to win.”

“Is that because you changed the rules halfway through the game?” Y/N teased. 

Cassian rolled his eyes. “You know what, Y/N. I don’t think I missed you at all.”

Y/N chuckled. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Azriel laughed along with Y/N and placed a soft kiss to her shoulder. He looked completely different to the stoic and serious shadowsinger Feyre was used to. With Y/N, Azriel seemed like a completely different person. The tension had vanished from his body and his shadows, which were once sliding over his shoulders, were now caressing Y/N legs and arms. One of his hands caressed her thigh while the other threaded with hers. Feyre could see the goosebumps appear on Y/N’s skin wherever he caressed. 

Azriel whispered something into Y/N’s ear which caused her to turn to him, smiling wide, her lips hovering just above his. The glimmer in Azriel’s eyes was prominent as he looked at her. It was as if she hung the stars. There was so much love and tenderness in his eyes that it could only be described as something out of a romance novel. She had never seen him look so at ease before. It was if everything else had melted away and the only thing left was Y/N.

Feyre couldn’t help but feel giddy at the sight. 

“How long have they been mates for?” Feyre asked Rhys. 

“Nearly three hundred years,” Rhys replied, wrapping an arm around Feyre. “They have been married for longer, the bond snapped nearly fifty years after they were married.”

“They seem happy,” Feyre said, her eyes not shifting from where Azriel and Y/N sat. 

Rhys smiled at his two friends, friends he considered family. “They are. Azriel is always his happiest when Y/N is around. He always has been ever since they met.”

“Why does she go away for long periods of time?” Feyre questioned. “It feels like torture when I’m away from you for too long. I cannot imagine being mates to someone for three hundred years and only being able to see them every few months.”

“That is the way it has been through their whole relationship,” Rhys explains. “They both knew what each other did for a job and neither of them wanted the other to give it up.” 

“How long is she back for this time?” Feyre asked. 

“I hadn’t asked,” Rhys said. “But I have a small feeling she will be here for a while this time.”

Feyre frowned. “How so?”

“Because if I know anything about Y/N, it is that she would never decline a glass of my finest wine and so far she has declined every glass Mor has offered her,” Rhys observed. 

Feyre looked at Rhys excitedly. “Does that mean—?”

Rhys smiled. “They haven’t said anything so I assume that they wish to keep the news between them for a little while longer.”

Feyre smiled over at Y/N and Azriel. She caught Y/N’s eye. The beautiful female only sent a wink Feyre’s way, a clear indication that she had overheard her and Rhys’s conversation. 

“Az, it’s your turn,” Nesta said. 

Azriel throws all of his cards onto the table. “I think I am done for the night.”

Cassian groaned . “Really?”

“Really,” Azriel said. “I want to spend time with my gorgeous mate and wife.”

Cassian chuckled. “That is only an excuse because you are losing,” the general teased. 

Azriel rolled his eyes and swooped Y/N up in his arms. Her arms locked around his neck. “If you need us— actually don’t even try to contact us at all.”

Y/N threw her head back and laughed as Azriel carried her out of the room. Feyre could hear them laughing loudly even when the door was firmly closed behind them. Feyre leaned into Rhys and linked her fingers with his.

“I am happy for them,” Feyre said, her eyes staring at the door where Azriel and Y/N had left. 

Rhys kissed the top of Feyre’s head. “Me too.”

[sexlapis]

[◉°] … NANAMI KENTO & Y/N BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT… 429k views

⁺ 🧃　 ♡ ₊﹒ ⌣

꩜: actor!nanami x actress!reader

⤷ a short compilation of y/n & nanami moments!

sfw, fluff, accidental kisses, ooc nanami kinda

. art credits to @/osusiudon on twitter

masterlists

*

౨ৎ first clip

“whereee is nanamiiii?” you whine, filming yourself as you walk around the set, trying to find your favourite cast member. you walk through a door. “nanamiii-oh there he is..”

you look surprised and then you tell the camera, “shhhh..nanami is asleep..”

you tiptoe towards where he lays passed out on a couch with his costume goggles right beside him. you turn the camera around to face nanami, his mouth agape as little snores passed through.

“awwww.. he looks so cute..”

you put the camera close to his face, making nanami look funny. “haha..i’m so keeping this-”

nanami snorts suddenly and shifts in a rapid movement, shocking you and making you drop your phone on his poor face.

“ahh!” you cry. fumbling ensues before you get your camera upright again, pointing it at a now awake, disappointed looking nanami, sitting up on the couch as he stares at you blankly. his hair is messy, tie askew and his eyes tired.

“sorry nanami…did i wake you??”

“…”

“…”

nanami sighs and rubs his eyes. “i don’t know _____. did you barge in here, record me and drop your phone on my face?”

“…oops?”

nanami stares at you some more and then you pat his head in apology.

“sorry, nanamin…”

he sighs again. “why are you like this…”

౨ৎ second clip

the paparazzi secretly filmed you and nanami exiting a store (which they had followed you both to). now of course, fans criticised said paparazzi, but after seeing the video themselves…they couldn’t be all that sad about it.

you and nanami walk out of the automatic doors, arms linked and nanami carries the shopping bag.

you’re eating your little treat, strolling with nanami to the sidewalk when he points to your shoes, noticing that your laces are undone.

he speaks and you just shrug, continuing to eat, uncaring of your unlaced shoes that are a hazard.

nanami has you hold the grocery bag temporarily and then kneels down and ties your laces securely, all the while you chew on your food and smile down at him.

he stands up and takes the bag from you to carry once more. you inaudibly talk before linking arms with him again and resting your head on his shoulder while you both walk away.

౨ৎ third clip

the director yells cut and you are immediately running towards nanami and throwing your arms around his shirtless waist, careful to avoid the very intricate, realistic body paint covering half of his body.

“nanami! please don’t dieeeee!” you cry, looking up at him, “who’s going to be my emotional support actor?”

nanami huffs and pats your back, “_____…i won’t disappear..i’ll still be on the set…”

“it’s not the same!” you grumble into his chest. “it’s like you died for real!”

“no it’s not. i’ll visit everyday until this series ends.”

“really?” you look up at him, eyes glossy, “you better not be lying. promise?”

“yes, i promise.” he sighs fondly.

“okay..”

still hugging him, you turn to look at the camera and blatantly check out his shredded torso and thick, strong arms. nanami just stands there, confused.

you rest your head on one of his pecs, looking at the camera and smiling. “i get to do this everyday, you know.”

nanami scoffs and shakes his head at you. you are unbelievable.

౨ৎ fourth clip

you and the a few members of the cast of jujutsu kaisen had agreed to play a game of “silent library”for charity and nanami had agreed to play too, which shocked both the cast and the fans considering nanami rarely participated in games like this.

nanami has struck luck so far but it runs out on the sixth round.

the cards are handed out and suspense rises when you all quickly flip them over.

you groan out loud before slapping a hand over your mouth when you see that you’ve received the death card.

looking around, you notice that nanami and gojo also share the same card, and you point at them confused, while the members who are safe sigh in relief and thank god.

nanami closes his eyes and gojo slumps in his chair dramatically, making a weak noise in his mouth. you snort. you’re quickly hushed.

the name of the game is presented, “suck and blow”, and poorly stifled chuckles ring around the room. you rub your eyes, already dreading what’s about to come.

gojo eyes you, making a come hither motion with his long finger and swear at him silently. nanami is silent and looks between the two of you blankly.

the aim of the game? all three players must pass plastic card between them with only their lips.

your head falls onto the table, gojo is grinning and nanami is, as always, sighing.

the three of you sit on stools, with yourself insisting on being in the middle.

“i could’ve sworn i’ve had a dream just like this…” gojo whispers and nanami is leaning all the way around to smack the back of his head. gojo gasps and utahime scolds at him to shut his mouth.

the plastic card is given to gojo and the timer begins. he sucks it to his lips, cheeks hollow and he looked very stupid. gojo grabs your head and presses the card to your lips, making it seem like you are both kissing. you grunt and begin smacking the side of his face. suppressed laughter can be heard around you as you forcefully pull away from gojo.

you purse your lips, holding the plastic card on them as best as you can and turning to face nanami. he leans in, ready to get this over with.

it happened so fast.

nanami’s face is close to yours as you move to transfer the plastic card to his lips..and then the card falls.

it falls and you’re kissing nanami for half a second.

you gasp and pull back, embarrassed and covering your face.

you hear a squeal, a loud gasp and shocked laughter as you drown in shame. nanami sits there, fiddling, not knowing what to do with his hands and his face is clearly pink.

gojo teases you both to no end and the timer is already up.

it’s safe to say you all lost that round.

౨ৎ fifth clip

nanami is forced to go on a talk show (as he claims his manager made him do it ).

his responses are perfect and polite - nanami clearly has some sort of media training or an upper class background of some sort. it’s like nothing could catch him off guard whatsoever.

nanami is talking and then, the host interrupts. “are you and _____ dating?”

the audience chuckles and nanami is caught off guard. “wh-what?” nanami breathes out, a blush rising from his neck to his cheeks. “what?”

“are you and _____ dating?”

“no…” nanami clears his throat, gulping, “no of course not…”

“what do you mean “of course not?” do you not like _____?”

“what? of course i like-” nanami cuts himself off with a deep sigh and the crowd laughs at his embarrassment and fluster. “_____…_____ is a lovely woman, she’s a respected colleague, a valued friend, she’s-”

“well since you like her so much, let’s bring her out!” the host flings his arm out in the direction of the entrance stairway, “give a warm welcome to _____!”

“?”

the crowd is screaming as you walk in, waving at them with a warm smile on your face and sit next to nanami.

nanami looks at you, face red. “i-”

“don’t let him stop you.” you say, referring to the host’s interruption and the cheers erupting from the sea of people. “keep talking about me!”

nanami sighs. “shit…”

౨ৎ sixth clip

you’re being interviewed on the red carpet by a boisterous, joyful middle aged lady who asks you many questions, one of them being, “fuck, marry, kill”.

“okay fuck, marry, kill with getou suguru, nanami kento and gojo sa-”

“easy,” you cut in, not even hearing the rest of the question, “fuck getou, marry nanami and kill gojo. easiest question i’ve had so far!”

on the other end of the carpet, nanami is being asked the same questions except with actresses, one of them being you.

“fuck marry kill - utahime iori, _____ or shoko ieiri?!”

“marry _____, fuck utahime and kill shoko. goodnight.” he abruptly walks away, not even waiting for the interviewer to respond and leaves them flabbergasted.

*

a/n: feel like i rambled a lot in this one..oh well. also i’m not accepting requests for actor!nanami right now🤗🩷

[pomegranatesarchive]

PR nightmare | oscar piastri

paring: oscar piastri x singer!reader

summary: y/n is considered a pr nightmare. let’s watch her get into her first relationship.

notes: yet another repost from my old account, i tired to make it exactly the same, enjoy!

— y/n has posted new pictures!

liked by mclaren, f1, yourbrother, and 737,938 others!

yoursername: my manger told me to tell you guys that the illuminati is NOT real and i was just joshing around !! 😂👍👍😂

view comments below!

user1: ugh this is SO BELIEVABLE

user2: | WAS WAITING FOR THIS POST

user3: yeah let's all ignore the "i wrote songs about an f1 driver!!!!"

user4: the pictures 😭

yourmomsuser: pic credits?

yoursername: you're like 60 why do you know what pic credits are ??

user5: the illuminati is totally real 🙄

mclaren: 👀

yourusername: NO THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING PLS LOOK AWAY

user6: no offense, but how did you stumble across F2 oscar???

yourusername: my brother is like a HUGE f1, 2, AND 3 nerd and he always forces me to watch races with him 😣

yourbrothersuser: you literally ask me to tell you when oscar's back on the screen???

yourusername: okay kill yourself????

yourbrothersuser: @/yourmomsuser

yourusername: GOD YOU ARE SUCH A SNITCH

ynupdates: y/n and her brother; jacob, were seen at the airport earlier today, she later posted the picture on the right, on her story, confirming that she is in fact traveling. y/n has no shows coming up, and she rarely travels with jacob. thoughts?

view comments below!

user7: guys guys..the monaco grand prix in literally in two days.

user8: SHES GOING TO THE GRAND PRIX. I KNOW IT.

user9: why's her brother kinda??

user10: you can't even see his face 😭😭?

user9: I CAN JUST TELL

user11: everyone saying she's going to the grand prix are like getting my hopes up??????

user12: WATCH HER GO SOMEWHERE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT 😭

user13: okay guys..but we never talked about what songs could be about oscar

user14: IVE DONE SO MUCH THINK ABOUT THIS!!!

user13: GIRL PLEASE TELL

user14: OKAY OKAY!! one that REALLY stands out to me is "my love mine all mine" because, we all know y/n has never had a boyfriend before, SO when she writes love songs, obviously people speculate that she's in a relationship

user14: WHEN SHE WAS ASKED ABOUT THE INSPIRATION FOR "my love mine all mine" she said "i sadly do not have a boyfriend yet. but there is someone i've had my eye on for some time." SHE COULD HAVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT OSCAR AND WE DIDNT EVEN NOTICE

user15: istg if y/n doesn't show up in the paddock tomorrow, i will throw a fit.

liked by mclaren, f1, yourbrother, and 837,938 others!

yourusername: i could tell you where i am and what im doing, but its funny reading the theories

view comments below !

user15: are you going to a secret illuminati meeting user16: pls y/n pls just tell us

user17: this is cruel AND YOU KNOW IT

user18: pls lord, let y/n go to the monaco grand prix🙏🙏

user19: there's no way she ISNT going to the grand prix, i mean she's with her brother, and he's literally like the biggest f1 fan ever?? why else would they be traveling together

user20: maybe they're traveling together because they're siblings😭😭 ?? it doesn't have to connect to f1

yourbrothersuser: y/n pls put the phone down. i need a good nights rest for tomorrow.

user21: TOMORROW ???? IS ??? THE ???? GRAND ??? PRIX ??? ARE ???? YOU ??? GUYS ???? GOING ????

ynupdates: it seems like the rumors are true! y/n and jacob are currently at the grand prix!

view comments below!

user 22: 1 FUCKING KNEW IT

user23: everyone knew it...

user24: WHOO CAREEESSS oscar and y/n interaction WHEN ???

user25: ugh i NEED grid x y/n interactions RN

user26: y/n this, oscar that. WHAT I NEED IS TO SEE Y/NS BROTHER MEET MAX

user27: omg can you imagine how happy he is rn

— mclaren has posted new photos!

liked by yourusername, f1, yourbrother, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 837,938 others!

mclaren: monaco was a dream! thank you y/n for joining us view comments below!

view comments below!

user28: 1 SHOULVE BEEN THERE. I COULDVE METY/N. THAT SHOULDVE BEEN ME.

yourusername: thank you for having me🧡

user29: okay now make oscar and y/n kiss

yourbrothersuser: thank you for making my dream come true 🙏🙏

redbullracing: @/yourusername our garage next

yourusername: i think @/yourbrothersuser would enjoy that more then i ever could

redbullracing: he's always welcome to join 💙

yourbrothersuser: AHHHHHH OMG OMG

user30: okay now more grid x y/n content

user31: the way this became like a meet and greet for y/n was INSANE

user32: who would've thought there would be so many y/n fans at a F1 race??

user33: everyone's a y/n l/n fan.

— y/n has posted new photos!

liked by, mclaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri 763,928 others!

yourusername: do you think he'll try weed with me now that he's my boyfriend?

view comments below !

user34: EXCUSE ME BOYFRIEND???

user35: OMG Y/N GOT HER FIRST BOYFRIEND!! АННННН

user36: OSCAR AND Y/N??? HELL YEAH

user37: okay let's just pretend that doesn't say what it says 😭

yourmanger: y/n please change that caption.

yourusername: i don't know how ☹️

user38: WHO CARES ABOUT THE CAPTION!!! Y/N AND OSCAR SHIPPERS RISE

mclaren: in case that caption isn't a joke, y/n please refrain from getting our drivers high.

yourusername: YOU GUYS ARE NO FUNN

user39: i love how public y/n is. like she genuinely acts like she doesn't have millions of followers

oscarpiastri: love i already told you, we cant get high.

yourusername: YOU WOULD IF YOU LOVED ME.

maxverstappen1: i'll get high with you y/n 🙋‍♂️

redbullracing: no you will not.

[misswynters]

Christmas Present

featuring. viktor x afab!reader

warnings. MDNI SMUT (18+), reader wearing lingerie, riding, praising, unprotected sex, blowjob, creampie, viktor being obsessed with hearing the bell you are wearing, soft sex, bondage (m. receiving), breeding, begging and whining, aftercare at the end

requested by anon (combined the christmas and the riding viktor requests)

a/n. got lazy at the end :(

The workshop was unusually quiet for the evening, a rare stillness settling over the room. The only sounds were the faint hum of machines idling in the background and the soft creak of Viktor’s cane as he approached the workbench. You could hear his measured steps echoing off the walls, the rhythm unhurried, likely lost in some grand idea. You smiled to yourself, anticipation bubbling as you sat in his chair, carefully positioning yourself for the reveal.

The lingerie you wore was festive yet bold, a delicate mix of red and green fabric that hugged your curves. A small, golden bow sat perfectly in the center of your sternum, just above a jingling bell that chimed softly with every shift of your body. You felt equal parts daring and nervous, unsure how Viktor might react to such an unconventional “gift.” But you knew him, beneath his composed exterior lay a man brimming with emotions he often kept restrained. Tonight, you intended to bring those emotions to the surface.

Viktor called your name, his voice carrying an affectionate cadence as it bounced through the workshop. “Are you here? I thought we agreed to meet for dinner, not…hide in my workshop.” His words were laced with amusement, though there was an edge of curiosity.

You waited until you heard the soft click of the door closing behind him before turning the chair around slowly. His amber eyes widened at the sight of you, his steps faltering as though he had forgotten how to walk. For a moment, he simply stared, his mouth parting slightly before snapping shut. His fingers gripped the handle of his cane tightly, and you could see the muscles in his jaw flex as he struggled to find words.

“Viktor,” you said softly, your voice laced with playful confidence. “Merry Christmas.”

He took a shaky breath, his eyes roaming over you. It was hesitant at first, as though he were unsure if he was allowed to look, but soon lingering on every detail. The red and green satin, the bow, the golden bell. It all seemed to render him completely speechless. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and when he finally managed to speak, his voice was a hushed whisper.

“Y-you look stunning,” he stammered, his accent thick, each word tinged with awe. “I did not expect this. You are…my present?”

You nodded, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Do you like it?”

His steps were hesitant as he moved closer, his cane tapping lightly against the floor. When he reached the chair, he leaned down, his hands gripping the armrests tightly, knuckles white with the effort it took not to touch you. His breath was warm against your face, and his amber eyes, usually so focused and calculating, now shimmered with a mix of love and unspoken need.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. His gaze flickered to the golden bell resting against your sternum. A small, almost mischievous smile played at the corners of his lips as he reached out, his fingers brushing the bell lightly. The soft chime it produced sent a shiver down your spine, and Viktor’s eyes darkened at the sound. “Thought of everything,” he said, his tone warm yet trembling slightly. “Even this small detail…too much for me, my love.”

You reached up, your fingers curling around the edges of his vest and tugging him closer. His body stiffened for a moment before he gave in, leaning closer until your noses were nearly touching. His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, his internal battle written all over his face.

“Are you just going to stand there and admire me, or are you going to do something about it?” you teased, your voice a soft purr as your fingers trailed down from his shoulders to his chest. Lowering down to his stomach.

Viktor let out a shaky laugh, his lips twitching as though he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Taking my breathe away,” he said, his voice low and filled with a mix of reverence and amusement. “You know this, yes?”

“Of course,” you replied, your eyes locking with his as you leaned back slightly in the chair, giving him a better view of your figure. “Now, are you going to unwrap your present, or should I do it for you?”

Viktor’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he simply stared at you, as though trying to commit every detail to memory. Then, with a determination that sent a thrill through you, he straightened and moved his hands from the armrests to your thighs, his touch was light. His fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against the satin fabric, his movements reverent.

“My pretty gift,” he said softly, his voice filled with emotion. “Not just tonight, but always. How did I ever deserve you?”

“You don’t have to deserve me, Viktor,” you replied, your voice equally soft as you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. “You just have to love me.”

“I do,” he said, his voice firm now, his amber eyes locking with yours. “More than I can ever express.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. You tugged him closer again, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow at first but quickly deepened. Viktor’s hands gripped your thighs more firmly, his restraint slipping as he poured every ounce of his love and need into the kiss. The bell at your sternum chimed softly as you shifted, the sound blending with the faint hum of the workshop’s machines. Viktor pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “The sound… It is perfect. Just like you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you smiled against his lips. “Merry Christmas, Viktor,” you murmured.

“And to you, my love,” he replied, his voice full of warmth and promise as he leaned in for another kiss, the workshop fading away as the two of you lost yourselves in each other.

Viktor's breath lingered against your lips as he leaned in again, his hand cupping your jaw delicately. His kiss was featherlight at first, as though he were savoring the taste of you, committing every moment to memory. The softness of his lips, the way his thumb brushed against your cheek. It was achingly tender, his care evident in every movement. Time seemed to stretch as the two of you stayed like that, exchanging gentle kisses that grew slower, deeper, more meaningful with each passing moment.

Viktor's free hand found its way to your shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of the delicate strap of your lingerie. His other hand remained steady on your jaw, holding you as if you might disappear at any moment. When he finally pulled back, it wasn't far. His forehead rested against yours, and his amber eyes gazed into yours. His breathing was uneven, each exhale mingling with yours as the two of you stayed in this shared bubble of intimacy.

"You are..." he started, his voice hushed but thick with emotion, "you are more than I could have ever dreamed of. Sometimes I wonder if this is all some invention of my mind."

You chuckled softly, your hand rising to brush a strand of hair away from his face. "This is very real," you murmured, your voice filled with affection. "And so am I."

His lips curved into a faint smile, but the look in his eyes was serious, filled with love and awe. He nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over your face as though he were memorizing every detail. Then, without another word, he leaned in again, this time closing the distance with a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was as though a dam had broken. His lips moved against yours with a new passion, every kiss filled with a need that had been simmering under the surface. His hand left your shoulder to slide down to your waist, pulling you closer against him. The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours, and a soft hum of pleasure escaped you, which only seemed to spur him on.

Viktor pulled back briefly, just long enough to catch his breath, his eyes darkened with desire as they met yours. "You make it hard to think straight," he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent, sending a thrill through you.

"Isn’t that the point?" you teased, your voice soft but breathless as you pulled him closer, your arms wrapping around his neck. "Seems like I’m doing something right."

His response was a soft laugh, but it quickly dissolved as he dove back into the kiss, this time with even more passion. His hands slid around your waist, holding you firmly yet gently, and with a surprising strength, he lifted you out of the chair. Your body pressed flush against his as his arms wrapped around you, holding you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. You yelped his name, surprised by the sudden action.

He only smiled, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something deeper. "Sure, full of surprises tonight," he murmured, "but two can play that game."

He turned, carefully sitting back in the chair while positioning you to straddle his lap. The new position made your breath hitch as your knees settled on either side of him, your bodies impossibly close. His hands settled on your waist again, holding you steady as his gaze roamed over you, lingering on the golden bell nestled against your chest.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, and he reached out to flick the bell lightly again. The soft chime it produced seemed to echo through the workshop, and his eyes flicked back to yours, filled with mischief. "I like this sound," he admitted, his voice a little rough. "I may want to hear it more."

Your cheeks heated at his words, and you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you. "You'll have to work for that," you teased, your fingers slipping under the edge of his vest, brushing against the soft fabric of his shirt.

Viktor's breath faltered as your hand brushed against him, his fingers tightening around your waist with a quiet intensity. "Everything about you is a temptation," he said softly, his voice laced with both admiration and desire.

You smiled up at him, a hint of playfulness in your eyes. "I think you're just weak for me," you teased, your voice tender and full of warmth.

His only response was another kiss, this one searing in its intensity. Your hands wandered further, slipping under his shirt to trace the lines of his torso. His body tensed slightly under your touch, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding up your back and pulling you even closer against him.

The golden bell jingled softly with every movement, a reminder of the festive occasion, but the two of you were far too lost in each other to notice much else. Viktor's lips left yours to trail down your jaw, his kisses soft but deliberate as he moved to your neck. You tilted your head to the side, giving him better access, and a soft sigh escaped you as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot. You whined slightly, your hands tangling in his hair as he continued his care.

"Yes, my love?" he replied, his voice a soft whisper against your skin.

"Keep going, please-" you begged, your voice barely audible but filled with need.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck. "I had no intention of doing so," he assured you, his lips trailing back up to capture yours again in another passionate kiss.

Viktor’s hands slid down to your waist, gripping you more firmly as he pressed you closer against him. The movement was slow but deliberate, and your body instinctively followed his lead, your hips shifting to meet his. The only thing separating the two of you was the thin layer of fabric you wore.

He smiled faintly, though the intensity in his gaze never wavered. One of his hands trailed upward, brushing against the small of your back before settling there, holding you steady as he encouraged your movements with a subtle shift of his hips. The friction elicited a soft moan from you, and Viktor’s grip tightened slightly in response.

The sound of the golden bell ringing faintly between you only heightened the moment, the delicate chime contrasting with the growing intensity of your shared passion. Viktor’s lips left yours to trail along your jawline, leaving a path of warm, lingering kisses. When he reached the curve of your neck, his lips hovered there for a moment, his breath hot against your skin.

“...so perfect,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of reverence and longing.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you tilted your head to the side, giving him better access. “That's sweet of you to say,” you replied, your voice soft but playful.

Viktor let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your neck. “Sweet, hmm?” he said, his tone laced with a teasing edge. “You may find I am not so sweet after all.”

“Viktor,” you breathed, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as you leaned closer, your lips brushing against his ear.

His response was a shaky exhale, his head dipping forward to press a kiss to your shoulder. “It is you,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. “You make everything, every moment, so much more.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, your hands moving from his shoulders to cup his face. You guided his gaze back to yours, your thumb brushing lightly against his cheek. Viktor didn’t need to be told twice. His lips found yours again, and the two of you lost yourselves in each other, the rest of the world fading away. The chair creaked softly beneath you, but neither of you paid it any mind. All that mattered was the shared warmth between you, the unspoken promises conveyed in every kiss, every touch, every whispered breath.

His hands began to roam your body, not leaving a single part untouched. You began reaching down to undo the buttons of his trousers, and when you finally undid all of them, Viktor stopped. Looking at you in the eyes with a soft and kind expression. “My love, do you want to continue?

Then you slowly began stroke his cock starting with the tip, your thumb pressing lightly. This earned a ragged groan from him as he leaned his head back against the back of the chair.

“Y-you have… experience in everything don’t you? he whispered against your ear as your hand moved down to the base, pumping him a few times. Now that you actually look at it, it’s longer than what you thought. It has been so long since you found time to do this. He would always be so busy with his inventions, meeting with the council, etc.

Taking his now hard cock into your hand, you hovered over his hips. Your arousal was sticky, the soft layer that separated the two of you, clinging to your body. Then Viktor looped it around his finger, moving it to the side. “Go on,” he whispered his amber eyes looking at your with such love and desire. He took your smaller hand into his, helping you align his cock between your folds. “Let me help you.”

Oh, how you loved the way he looked at you. Maintaining eye contact while intimate always made you blush inside. Viktor began to slide it between your slick folds a few times, collecting the wetness that lingered before setting the thin fabric aside again. He pushed his tip slowly and antagonizing, as the two of you moaned softly. Leaning forward you flushed your chest against his, resting you head of his shoulder. He got ahold of your hips with a firm grip, slipping the palm of his hands towards the bottom of your ass.

He looked at you as he leaned toward you, his head laid on yours. Kissing you temple, as his lips brushed against your ear, reassuringly. “Doing alright, my love?”

You didn’t want to respond. Well, more like you couldn’t the overwhelming pleasure was too much for you so you just nodded in agreement. With that he began to lower you down, his cock slowly filling you up to the hilt. His long length being wrapped tightly by your walls, he wanted to let out a moan. But all that came out was a shaky sigh.

He slowly pulled out and pushed back in, each thrust causing soft, wet squelching sounds as your bodies met. The sound of your skin slapping was a reminder of how deeply he was filling you, every thrust a testament to the care he took in making sure you felt each inch of him. His pace was measured, slow, but intense. He was lost in the way your body responded to him, how tight and warm you were around him.

Every time he thrusted upwards, the golden bell that laid on your chest rang more loudly. It was like it ignited something in his that make his go slower but harder. He wanted to hear that bell ring more. The harder you bounced on his cock, the louder the bell rang. His chair creaked at the hinges from each impact.

Viktor kissed you slowly starting from the edge of your shoulder towards the end of your collarbone. Leaving wet kisses as he traveled up your neck, and finally reaching your jawline. His hand moving up between the valley of your chest. When he reached the precious bell, he flickered it with his fingers. Ding Ding Ding.

You had an idea, very brilliant one. Slowly you lifted yourself up from his hips, his cock falling limp. He looked up at you with curiosity.

He cupped your gently, “Where are you going?” he said softly, that it make your heart flutter even though you were in a compromising position. You didn’t say anything yet, thinking about how you were going to put your idea into words. A few seconds had passed before you could get the courage to ask.

“Where’s the ribbons at?” you asked, looking away shyly, not making eye contact with him.

“The satin ribbons we used for wrapping some of the presents?-” he replied, pondering trying to reach the depths of his mind to see if he can remember where he last placed them, unaware of your intentions.

You nodded yes, as he pointed towards a wooden cabinet near the table the two of you sat by. Walking over, with your legs trembling and weak, you reached the doors opening them with a creak. It was an old cabinet for sure. There were the ribbons, in the center with its pink satin colors slightly glowing with the dim lights. You picked it up and walked towards Viktor who was still siting in his chair, with somewhat of exhaustion lingering in his face.

Trying your best as you maintained eye contact, you lightly tied the ribbons around your chest. Once it was softly secure against your body with a bow finishing it off, you sat on his lap again.

Viktor’s hands, still gentle yet trembling with restraint, hovered over your waist as his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. The soft golden glow of the workshop lamps illuminated his tousled hair, casting shadows on his face that only deepened the intensity in his eyes. His breaths were shallow, and though his posture remained collected, you could feel the weight of his emotions beneath the surface.

“I… cannot do this to you,” he murmured into your ear, his voice thick. Accent curling around every word like a warm embrace. His eyes darted toward the ribbon tied loosely around your chest, the bell at its center giving a soft chime as you shifted.

You tilted your head, confused by the sudden hesitation. “Why not?” you asked, voice teasing but with curiosity.

Viktor pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “Because…” He hesitated, his lips parting as if searching for the right words. “You are no gift to be unwrapped and claimed. You are so much more than that. I cannot bear to treat you as though you are anything less than my equal.”

His confession caught you off guard, your heart squeezing at the sincerity in his tone. There was something achingly vulnerable in the way he spoke, as if the very idea of reducing you to a “present” was an slur to the depth of his feelings for you.

The playful grin on your face softened into something more tender. “Oh-,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair, your touch gentle. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

A flicker of a smile touched his lips, though his blush deepened. “I mean every word,” he said softly, his fingers brushing over the edge of the ribbon with reverence. “But…” His gaze turned quite mischievous, his golden eyes glinting with newfound confidence. “If it must be someone, then tie me up instead.”

Your eyebrows raised at his suggestion, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You?”

“Why not?” His tone was soft, but his words carried a daring edge. “If you are to tease me like this, then it is only fair I surrender myself to your whims. Let me be yours.” The image of Viktor, bound in ribbons and entirely at your mercy, sent a delicious shiver down your spine. You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his in a featherlight kiss before pulling back, your smile playful.

“You’re serious?”

His gaze never wavered. “For you? Of course, I’m always serious.” The boldness in his reply sent warmth flooding through you, and without hesitation, you reached for the loose ribbon on your chest, pulling it free with a gentle tug. It slid from your skin, the bell giving one last soft chime before you wrapped it around your hands.

“Let’s see how you handle being my present,” you slightly teased, looping the ribbon around his arms. Strapping them to the arms rest of the chair. Once you finished tying him up (with the finishing touches being bows on each side), you went on your knees placing you hands on his thighs. Caressing them upwards until it reached his glistening length.

One of your hands eagerly ran from base to shaft, the other resting comfortably on his thigh as your lips eagerly sucked on the tip. Biting your lower lip, you pulled your eyes away just for a second to glance at how evident he was. His length had gained its strength. You just can’t help the smile that breaks over your face. You were staring up at him through your eyelashes as you work your hands and mouth. His breath is shaking, as you go to lick up his length he quickly brings a hand towards your hair to curl into your head.

“Fuck.” he whispered out, so much pleasure building already with the added height of fear of someone walking in at anytime. Bursting through the door, like someone would always do.

Removing yourself briefly you locked eyes with him. “You are sure enjoying yourself, huh?” you let out a small chuckle, lightly scraping your teeth while looking back up at him with am innocent smile.

“S-stop teasing-” he softly stuttered, his hand laced back into your hair pushing you back down on his length.

You pressed your lips against the head of his cock, tongue darting out to taste the precum there. You gave kitten licks, wrapping your hand around the base and giving his length gentle pumps.

You maintained the eye contact, looking up at him while kissing his sensitive skin. Your free hand massaged his leg, up and down his thigh to ease the pain there and earning you another pleased sigh from his lips as his eyes fluttered shut.

He groaned, sagging back into his chair. As you continued, your hand found his, lacing your fingers together to ground himself. He let out soft moans, bucking his hips a bit as he muttered sweet nothings you couldn’t understand.

Taking his tip into your mouth, you began to lap and suck it before pushing yourself further. As you continued, he got louder without hesitation (though it wasn't loud enough it could be heard through the door) and more whinier.

He whined, moaning your name as softly. His muscles tensed as he gripped the arms of the chair, hard enough to make his knuckles go white. His chest moved upwards, voice breaking as he begged you to slow down between more broken begging of your name.

You ignored them, tears beginning to build and spill from your eyes as your own body demanded an end to the constant badgering at the back of your throat. He groaned loudly; your only warning before he was coming, thick, hot streams jetting into your mouth. You whimpered slightly.

His eyes are soft, almost shy. “Let me return the favor,” he says as he lifts up his head to look down at you, his voice low, warm. With careful movements, you stood up from your knees which were slightly red due to the hard floor as you straddled him once again.

You melted into him, feeling safe and loved. “Is there anything you want for Christmas?” Viktor asks, his voice hesitant, as though he’s unsure of what you’ll say.

You think for a moment, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "I want you to be a father," you say quietly, your heart full of warmth as you look into his eyes.

Viktor’s face flushes a deep red, his grip tightening gently around the chairs armrest. He looks at you as if processing your words, his expression both surprised and touched. Slowly, he adjusts you, making sure you’re comfortable as you straddle his lap once more. then you remembered that you hadn't came yet, so its a perfect opportunity.

Sinking down his sensitive length you let out a moan, your hands gripped the bottom of his vest. Viktor began to breath heavily, matching yours perfectly. Burying himself deep inside of you, wanting so badly to pull you into a hug. Sadly, his hands were still restrained. He whined against your lips, "C-can you untie the bows, Please-"

"Sorry Goldie, No can do," you said teasingly with a soft voice, wiggling your finger no towards his face.

He kept hitting the perfect spot, over and over again. It felt amazing. You leaned towards him, hands resting on his chest. Then you laid your head over his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He desperately wanted to hug you back that it was painfully noticeable. How he moved his head, caressing it against your arm. Smelling your scent of vanilla bean and coconut oil as he ran his big slightly curvy nose bumping on your forearm.

“Can you please untie me, my love” he begged once again, his hips bucking against yours delicately. The way he looked at you with the softness in his amber eyes. Oh, you couldn’t resist much. Barely lasting more than 5 minutes having his hands tied up, such a desperate man. Leaning back slightly with his cock still inside of you, you began to untie the bows. Luckily, you didn’t tie them tightly around his wrists so they easily came off in seconds.

Immediately, his hands went straight to your ass again, like earlier. This time however he spread them wider, the pleasure overwhelming his senses unable to fully control his grip on you. As he thrusted upwards, he set a slighter faster but nevertheless harder pace.

Viktor's hand slip up to the small on your back, pulling you towards his chest. All you could do was lay against him as he continued his pace. Occasionally you would bounce on him, nearly pulling out before going back down. But it was very difficult to keep up with him as he desperately tried to find his own release inside of you after a longing of teasing. This would also will be the first time tonight for you. The ringing of the bell intensified with every thrust.

Clutching at his black button-up shirt, now stained with your tears of pleasure and a bit of drool. As you finally started to find your own release, the lewd squelching sounds were present in the room. Moans and soft gasps were all that could be heard from the two of you alongside the whispered of encourage he would speak into your ear.

You’re doing so good.

Taking me so well.

With every second that passed by, the closer your climax was. It was a close call though seconds apart, but you were the first one. Squirting on his cock with some of it dripping down to his pants as it spilled out of you. Then he came inside of you, shooting his load deep inside. Filling you up to the brim, hoping that with this your Christmas wish would come true in the next 9 months.

He caressed your back as he pulled you off him, sitting you back on his lap. Soaked by your arousal, luckily his pants were black.

“Best gift ever.” he simply said as he smiled, looking at your face that rested on his shoulder in exhaustion. Ringing the bell on your chest with his slender fingers, once again.

You sat on his lap, your legs tucked to one side, cradled securely by his strong arm wrapped around your waist. His other hand rested lightly on your thigh, his thumb brushing idle patterns your soft skin. Your head rested against his shoulder, and his faint scent surrounded you into the present. Viktor’s heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, and the rise and fall of his chest matched your own.

"You’re quiet," he murmured, his voice soft and slightly raspy. "Are you alright, my love?"

You tilted your head to look up at him, his amber eyes meeting yours with a mix of concern and adoration. "I’m fine," you whispered, your lips curving into a small smile. "Just...happy."

A rare, genuine smile tugged at Viktor’s lips, and his hand moved to cup your cheek, his fingers gentle and warm. "Good," he said simply, but the weight behind the word spoke volumes.

His eyes studied you, his gaze lingering on the faint flush of your cheeks and the way your lashes fluttered as you looked at him. "You take such good care of me," he continued, his tone tinged with both gratitude and guilt.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, and his expression softened further. Viktor’s hand slid from your cheek to your back, pulling you closer until your foreheads rested together. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours, and you closed your eyes, letting the world outside the lab fade away.

"Stay like this a little longer," he whispered, his voice a gentle plea.

"I’m not going anywhere," you promised, your hand finding its way to his chest, where you felt the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

His lips brushed your temple in a featherlight kiss, and you felt him relax further beneath you, his body molding against yours as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle. For a man who often carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, you holding him close to your heart, was the best gift you could ask for.

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