#sharps container for home use

[biohazardwastedisposal]

[uncanny-tranny]

I've always found the argument against sharps containers being in accessible, public places (e.g. public restrooms) to be weird because... If people are going to use anyway (which, at some point, becomes necessary because withdraw can be, literally, deadly), I'd rather them being able to properly dispose of their equipment. Sharps can be vessels that contain disease regardless of if you use the sharp for medicine, drugs, or drawing blood. It's a matter of the safety of the person using the sharp and other people's safety if the sharps containers are in places where it is known that sharps are turning up.

[hoonatic]

emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable. 

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you’d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself. 

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you. 

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms. 

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

[fluffylino]

angry sex with mean!dom minho

things get heated when the two of yall decide to have a petty argument.

-contains mature themes (minho is mean but its all consensual...sir kink?!?!?)

minho's pissed.

you're pissed.

the atmosphere in the apartment is beyond unimaginable. you came back from university, in a bad mood. sometimes people merely existing made you angry.

you couldn't explain it but you weren't in a great mood at all, and you weren't in the mood to try and make yourself calm down.

minho comes home, half an hour later. quietly entering and slamming the front door behind him.

not even bothering to keep his keys on the glass table with more care. walking right past you to the bedroom.

he has that look on his face when he joins you in the kitchen. drinking the water you had poured for him absentmindedly.

"wash the glass, will you" you mutter, sighing in exasperation. you knew this would only make things worse.

"what?" and his tone gets laced with irritation.

"i had a bad day, okay and i'm not in a good mood" you say to him. leaning back on the fridge.

"yeah? you think i'm not having a fucked up day too?" he spits back, crossing his arms, ready for battle.

"i never said that. stop being so bitchy"

"fix your attitude." minho warns. looking down at his feet before rolling his eyes at your behaviour.

"stop rolling your eyes at me" pointing a finger at him in annoyance.

"don't point a finger at me"

raising an eyebrow at you with a challenging look in his eyes.

"why don't you just go pick a fight with chan or seungmin"

you seethe out, not wanting to argue. if the two of you got more time to calm your nerves this wouldn't have happened.

"pick a fight? what the fuck"

he mutters under his breath. and it makes your eyes burn with tears. now he's mad at you.

"what fucking attitude do i have. i'm sick of dealing with people"

you raise your voice, exhaling heavily.

"and you think i'm not? i just had dance practice for nearly six hours and they told me i needed to do better"

minho says through gritted teeth. running his fingers through his messy hair.

"maybe you do need to do better" you snark back. wanting to get on his nerves just for the hell of it.

"watch what you say."

he warns for the second time and you take it as a challenge.

"or what? you're going to give me a lecture on how to..."

bringing your hands up to gesture quotation marks

"...fix my attitude?"

.

🐱

.

"not gonna fight back huh." your mouth opens to curse at him. and he uses it as the opportunity to pull you back.

ramming himself deeper into you.

"fucking brat"

minho grits out, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your sides. grip strong enough to have him holding you up singlehandedly if he wanted to.

"took it too far. i'm a bitch?" his voice shakes when your arms give in. falling face down into the sheets. back arched and ass up. the position makes things more sensitive.

"answer me."

you can't. teething at the pillow while you fisted at the soft bedsheets beside you. trying to ground yourself.

the feeling of his length pushing in and out of you with slow hard thrusts. torturing himself just to torture you.

"answer." eyes widening at the way he lays a sharp slap over your cunt. all while pulling out all the way.

"me."

sliding past your swollen walls with a filthy squelch. his force strong enough to have your whole body jerk forward. gasping in ecstasy.

you shake your head. or atleast try to, eyes rolling back at the strength he uses to meanly shove your thighs even further apart.

till you're practically presenting to him.

"open that smart ass mouth and use your fucking words." his tone dropping. theres a heartbeat of silence as he gives you a few seconds to answer him.

"ah- m-minnie"

moaning embarassingly loud when he slides his hand down the curve of your back. tugging a fistful of your hair, forcing you up on your arms. till you're on your fours.

"minnie? its sir to you. you don't deserve to even call me minho."

scalp burning with a mix of pain and pleasure.

your mind buzzing when he also gets on his fours. body pressing into yours from above.

"who's a bitch now"

minho says in your ear. brushing his lips against your earlobe. it sends a wave of heat straight to your cunt. throbbing uncontrollably around his dick.

the position has you thinking of how pathetic you are. cursing him out, only to be fucked like a dog from behind.

"are you my needy little bitch" hooking his chin on your shoulder. his arms on either side of yours.

thick thighs framing your smaller ones. you feel small under him. small and weak.

"y-yes sir" whispering softly. chest burning with humiliation. he clicks his tongue. not satisfied.

"speak up, mutt."

"yes sir...m'your needy bitch"

fucking the sentence out of you, in a way that has you breathless. arms trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.

"taking it like you're in heat."

slowing his thrusts to roll his hips into yours. hitting that spongey spot that has you keening for him.

"next time you act like a fucking brat, don't expect me to be this kind"

he warns, subtly rubbing at the redness on your sides from how hard he was gripping your waist.

you nod vigorously. quietly mumbling apologies.

"is my needy puppy gonna take me all the way in her tight wet cunt hm"

.

.

.

"if i'm your bitch, you're my bitch" you whisper, lightly smacking him on the chest.

"i never said i wasn't a bitch" minho smirks, successfully teasing you.

"y'know i love you, right baby?" he mumbles, kissing your cheek lovingly.

"you're my cute little puppygirl or WAIT MY KITTY CAT!!!"

.

.

..

.

.

tada!

[callsigns-haze]

Little life

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin has always been the centre of attention, but behind the cocky aviator façade, he cherishes quiet nights at home with his pregnant wife, Y/N, as they navigate love, routine, and a life the squad knows nothing about.

Warning: This fic contains fluff, pregnancy themes, and light teasing romance.

Word count: 1068 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

English is not my first language so I apologies for mistakes

Part 2 Part 3

Jake Seresin was a man who always seemed to attract attention. With his easy charm and cocky grin, women flocked to him the moment they laid eyes on him. It happened every time—at the bar, after missions, during social events. The second a woman saw him, they’d saunter over, usually with a flirtatious smile, batting their lashes, asking him to buy them a drink.

And every time, without fail, Jake turned them down.

It confused the entire Dagger squad. They’d tease him relentlessly about it, nudging him with raised brows and playful smirks, wondering why someone like him—someone who had the looks, the swagger, the perfect call sign—never took the bait. They couldn’t figure him out. To them, Jake seemed like the type to indulge in a little fun, to soak up the attention and enjoy the benefits of being the golden boy.

But Jake wasn’t interested.

Not anymore.

Because the truth was, when Jake wasn’t flying missions or teasing his teammates, he was at home in Texas, living a life no one suspected. He had a routine, a life outside of the cocky, brash aviator persona he wore like a second skin.

That life began with you.

You sat at your desk, soft lighting casting a warm glow over your latest manuscript. The smell of ink and freshly brewed tea hung in the air, and the quiet hum of a summer night filtered through the open window. You were three months pregnant now, the couple married for a month now, and the bump had just started to show beneath your oversized sweater, a fact Jake never missed when he was home.

He sat nearby, like always, in his favourite armchair. His legs stretched out casually, one arm slung over the back, while the other held a half-empty glass of whiskey. His eyes weren’t on the drink, though—they were on you, as they always were.

You highlighted another line in your manuscript, frowning a little as you moved the neon marker across the page. The ruler in your hand—one you used to make sure your lines were perfectly straight—had gotten a little too stained with colour, and without thinking, you reached out and wiped the edge of the ruler off on Jake’s hand.

He chuckled, low and warm, shaking his head in amusement. “You know, sweetheart, there are other ways to clean that thing. Ever heard of tissues?”

You glanced at him, giving a half-smile as you continued working. “Maybe. But I prefer you.”

That made him grin wider. “Lucky me, then.”

It had become a sort of routine for the two of you, especially now that you were pregnant and he was often gone on missions. When he was home, though, there was no place Jake would rather be than right here, with you, basking in the quiet moments. To anyone else, he was “Hangman”—the sharp-tongued aviator with an ego the size of Texas itself. But with you, he was just Jake, the man who found peace in the most mundane of moments.

He loved watching you work. The way your brow would furrow in concentration, how you’d absentmindedly tuck your hair behind your ear, or bite your lip when you were thinking through a tricky plot point. Jake would tease you for your little quirks, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on the top of your head when he couldn’t resist anymore.

“Need any help there, author of mine?” he’d ask, his voice teasing but soft.

You’d roll your eyes in response, but your smile always gave you away. “I think I’ve got it covered, flyboy.”

Jake would laugh and go back to his drink, but you knew he liked being part of your world like this. When you’d first met, you had been a rising star in the literary world, already on your way to becoming a bestselling author. You were about to turn 20 in a couple weeks just before you wandered into 27 year old Jakes life. Jake never made a big deal about it, though he’d brag quietly to himself every time he saw one of your books displayed in airport bookstores. No one in the squad had any idea who you were, much less that you and Jake were married. And he liked it that way. He liked keeping this part of his life private, away from the chaos of the outside world.

With you, everything was simpler. Real.

Jake loved you in ways no one ever saw. He loved you in the stolen kisses between your sentences, in the lazy mornings in bed when you pressed your nose against his chest, in the quiet I love you’s whispered as he pulled you close late at night. You were his world—everything else was just noise.

As you finished another page, you sighed softly, stretching your arms above your head. Jake’s gaze was on you in an instant, taking in the slight curve of your stomach, his eyes filled with warmth and pride. He got up from his chair and moved behind you, his large hands coming to rest on your shoulders, gently kneading away the tension that had built up from hours of working.

“Time to take a break, darlin’,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment. “Just a little longer. I’m almost done.”

Jake let out a soft laugh, low and teasing. “That’s what you said an hour ago.”

You smiled, but your body relaxed under his hands. You couldn’t deny that the warmth of his touch and the quiet affection in his voice had a way of making you forget the world for a while.

“Alright, alright,” you relented, setting your highlighter down. “But only because you’re so persuasive.”

Jake grinned, pressing a kiss to your neck before straightening up. He turned your chair around so you were facing him, his hands on either side of the armrests, caging you in. His eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint he always had when he was about to say something that would make your heart race.

“Darlin’, I don’t need to be persuasive,” he drawled, his Southern accent thick and smooth. “I’m your favourite distraction, remember?”

You laughed, shaking your head as he leaned in closer. “You’re impossible, Jake.”

“And you love me for it,” he said, his lips brushing against yours before kissing you softly, his hand resting on your belly, feeling the life growing inside you.

And he was right, even though he was nearly seven years older—you did love him for it.

I may or may not have made this into a mini series so let me know if you'd like to be tagged

Part 2 Part 3

[sceletaflores]

ghosts, ghouls, goblins, and other things that go bump in the night!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, resident bestie diva wade wilson, matching costumes ofc, established relationship, p in v, semi-public sex (bathroom), rough sex, mirror sex, gratuitous amounts of dirty talk, light degradation, light hair pulling, light choking, nasty dirty breeding kink (@guiltyasdave infected me with the breeding kink disease...it's all her fault), 4k words for straight up porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: happy halloween! sort of...i obvi couldn't wait to post this until the actual day cause i have absolutely zero patience so here you go! i thought up this idea in the middle of the night and literally got out of bed to start it. it's a nasty self indulgent mess...hope you love it! kisses <3

cutie divider by icon @saradika-graphics!

you and logan have some fun at wade's halloween party...

Unsurprising to no one, Wade Wilson knows how to throw a party. 

Every year since the two of you became neighbors, you’ve gotten a gaudy invitation decorated with cartoon bats and devils slipped under your door just in time for Halloween.

Of course, it’s always in some cheesy font, red and glittery. A crappy pun about “scaring up some fun with your favorite mercenary” with a return address listed as ‘Hell’s Playground’ inscribed on the front.

It's awful. You haven’t missed one yet.

And not just because you’re a sucker for free booze and cheap decorations. It’s like tradition now, you can't have your perfect attendance streak cut off four years in. That's just bad manners.

Besides, this is the first year you’ve gotten to do a couples costume.

“I look fuckin’ ridiculous,” Logan mutters, deep voice laced with irritation as he messes with the wolf ears perched awkwardly on his head. “Can’t believe I let you drag me to this thing.”

You don’t turn to face him, but you can still see the frown tugging his lips down in your mind. Logan’s never been one for costumes, but his options were either dress up or stay home while you went and had fun without him.

He was dead set on staying at home for most of the day.

One look at the frilly white bloomers that came with your costume and he changed his tune.

“Quit being such a baby,” you toss over your shoulder, pouring your second cup of whatever Wade mixed together in the mini cauldron sitting on his bar. “You look great, babe.”

He really shouldn’t complain, his costume is barely a costume. An old flannel with the sleeves ripped off and some mangy jeans.

The fake ears and tail were a struggle and a half to get him on board with, but Logan’s all bark and no bite. He was more than willing to roll over and show you his belly after enough begging.

Logan scoffs, big hand pawing at your hip to drag you to his side. “You owe me for this,” he rumbles low in your ear, the playful threat sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’ll survive,” you tease, a smug grin spreading across your face as you tug playfully on the tail clipped to his belt loop. “Unless you wanted to switch?”

Logan’s eyes drag over your body shamelessly, all the way from the floppy sheep ears sitting on your head to the lacy white corset and matching bloomers that do little to hide your curves. 

You don’t miss the way his eyes darken, how he runs his tongue along the sharp point of his canines like he wants to sink his teeth into you.

It sends a familiar heat coursing through your veins, warming your insides just as much as the vodka with a hint of mixer you’ve been sipping at.

You start to wish you shelled out for the fake fangs at the party store.

Logan tugs you closer, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smirk. “Not a chance in hell,” he rasps, voice dipping a couple octaves lower. “Looks better on you, baby.”

You hum idly as his arm snakes around your waist, fingers splayed along your lower back, inching dangerously close to the swell of your ass.

“You better behave,” you chastise, though it’s more playful than stern as you look up at him through your lashes. “We’re in public.”

Logan’s grip tightens, a soft grunt leaving him as he leans in, nosing along the side of your face. “Doesn’t seem like much of a party when all I’m thinkin’ about is how fast I can get you outta this damn costume.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, the warm puff of his breath over your skin makes your knees feel weak. You try to keep your cool, but it’s hard when he’s practically radiating heat and that intoxicating scent of leather and pine fills your senses. 

Before you can respond, a loud call of your name grabs your attention. 

"There you are!" Wade shouts from across the room, already making his way towards you.

All six foot two and half inches of him is wrapped in blue and white lace, paired with a matching hoop skirt that bounces with every step he takes. His shepherd's staff thuds against the floor when he comes to a stop in front of you. “Fashionably late, I see.”

“We’ve been here for thirty minutes,” you point out, brow cocked as you take in his costume. “Where’ve you been?”

“I’m the hostess with the mostest, honey bunny,” he says, throwing his arm out to gesture towards all the dressed up guests crammed into his living room. “Can’t spread myself too thin.”

He eyes Logan's wolf ears and fake tail, then turns back to you, wiggling his brows suggestively. 

"Kinky,” he comments, flicking the little gold bell hanging from the choker around your neck. “You two just couldn’t resist a little predator-prey roleplay, huh? Should I be worried about you getting all ‘Animal Planet’ on my couch?”

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his mouth brushing your ear as he mutters, “I’m gonna kill him before midnight.”

“Now, now, big bad wolf, no need to huff and puff and blow my skirt up. We’re all here to have a howl of a time!” Wade continues, undeterred. “Plus, if you behave, I might just let you keep your sheep when the night’s over.”

You can practically feel Logan’s eye twitch, but you snicker, leaning into him just a little more. “Play nice, Wade,” you say, trying to smother your laugh. “The wolf might eat you first.”

“Please,’ Wade snorts, twirling his shepherd's staff deftly in his hand. “If that’s on the table, I’ll lay out the fucking fine china.”

Logan lets out a huff of air, dropping his hold on you and brushing past Wade with a grunt. "I'm gettin' another beer."

“Try not to stab anyone!” Wade shouts after him, loud enough to be heard over the Monster Mash blaring from the speakers. “Al might blow the whole complex if any more blood gets on the linoleum!”

Logan throws a middle finger over his shoulder as he disappears into the kitchen. 

You watch him go, a grin plastered to your face at the way the tail swings with every step he takes. Something warm and fuzzy settles in your chest, blooming in the empty space of your ribcage.

You know Logan hates this–the people, the lights, the music, the costumes.

But he’s here anyway, for you.

Here wearing the stupid wolf costume you bought for him, surrounded by drunk people in inflatable dinosaur costumes and witches with dollar-store broomsticks. And despite all the grumbling, he hasn’t bolted for the door once.

All for you. And that makes your heart thump a little harder in your chest, your smirk softening into something sweeter.

"You’ve got him whipped," Wade deadpans, crossing his arms, the lace of his sleeves rustling as he does. “It’s really disgusting.”

You snort, shaking your head softly. "More like he's got a soft spot."

Wade eyes you skeptically. "Same thing, toots."

You hum noncommittally, turning back to him. “Cute outfit,” you comment, eyeing the white bonnet secured by a neat little bow under his chin.

“You like it?” Wade does a quick twirl, the blonde curls of his wig nearly slap you across the face as he does. “The guy at party city kept giving me weird looks, but I think he was just jealous of how well I fill in the blouse.”

You rake your gaze over him slowly, taking another slow sip from your cup. “The stockings are a nice touch, but don’t you think running around as Little Bo Peep will send some confusing messages.”

“Well, duh. That’s only the whole point, Sherlock.” Wade snorts, shaking his head like it’s obvious. “I’m way too emotionally invested in this relationship to not try and wiggle my way into throuple territory.”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes. “A throuple? Hate to break it to you, Peep, but Logan doesn’t really strike me as the sharing type.”

Wade leans in conspiratorially, cupping a hand around his mouth like he’s letting you in on a secret. “That’s why I’m playing the long game. Gotta wear him down with my irresistible charm, and when he finally snaps, I’ll swoop in with a bottle of Jack and a promise of no strings attached.”

You shake your head, chuckling into your drink. “You’ve got it all figured out, don't you?”

“Oh, honey,” Wade purrs, winking at you with a dramatic flutter of his lashes, “I've got a five-year plan.”

You roll your head to the side lazily, sheep ears swaying as you do. “I’ll give you points for persistence.”

"Damn straight," he says with a grin, straightening his bonnet proudly. “This level of commitment takes stamina. And by the way, I’ve got great stamina. My record is thirteen.”

You raise your brow, intrigued. “Thirteen what? Rounds? Hours?”

“Wouldn't you like to know,” he scoffs indignantly, rolling his eyes. “I’m more than just a pretty face in a killer dress, thank you very much.”

You groan, giving him a light push. "You’re impossible."

Wade grins, leaning closer to throw an arm around your shoulders. “I’m just pulling your tail, Wooly. You know I’d never come between you and your beefy boy toy. I mean, look at him. He’s practically pacing the kitchen like a caged animal just looking at you in your slutty nursery rhyme getup. How pathetic.”

You turn to steal a glance at Logan, who’s leaned against the counter scanning the room from behind his beer bottle. You feel a thrill at the idea that he’s watching over you like a hawk, making sure no one gets too close, slowly working himself up over the mere sight of you. 

But more than that, it’s the slight reluctant smirk tugging at his lips as he takes in the party. You can tell he’s managing to find some enjoyment in all this, even if he’d never admit it.

“Well,” Wade starts, dragging the word out slowly. “Since you’re all cozy over here with your alpha male, I’m gonna go find someone to share these…”

He holds up two shot glasses filled with some unidentifiable neon liquid, “…artisanal beverages with. Maybe that guy dressed like a merman. I’ve always wanted to see what's going on under those tails.”

You snort, raising your own cup to your lips. "You're awful."

“Only on the outside, sugar,” he says leaning down to kiss your cheek with a wet smack before flouncing away into the crowd, his skirt swishing as he goes. “Don’t fuck in my house without at least inviting me to watch!”

You laugh to yourself, watching as Wade fades into the crowd of gyrating bodies. You take another long sip, relishing in the familiar burn as it slips down your throat.

The laughter, the music, the chaotic energy of the party—it’s all intoxicating in its own right, but it’s nothing compared to the way Logan’s eyes are boring a hole through the back of your head.

You can feel his gaze like a tangible force, wrapping around you and drawing you in. Logan’s not just watching; he’s assessing, hungry for something that goes far beyond the Halloween festivities surrounding you.

The heat radiating from his gaze only intensifies your already buzzing anticipation, mixing dangerously with the two drinks swirling in your stomach, making you bolder.

You throw back the rest of your drink, setting the empty cup on the bar and making your way across the room. You weave through the crowd seamlessly, the music pulses around you, drowning out the laughter and chatter.

You feel a daring grin spread across your face as you saunter closer, reveling in the way Logan tracks your every move like a predator zeroing in on its prey. 

When you’re finally standing in front of him, you lean against the counter, giving him a good view of the way your corset dips lower. The fabric hugs you in all the right places, teasing him with glimpses of your skin beneath the delicate lace. 

"Looks like Little Bo Peep lost his sheep," he mutters, voice like gravel drenched in honey.

You smirk, tilting your head to the side innocently as you step around the counter. “Maybe I was already planning to run away, to go looking for a big bad wolf to play with.”

You slip two fingers through the belt loop at the front of his jeans, tugging him closer with a rough yank.

Logan’s goes willingly, taking a step closer. His breath hitches as he does, the hazel of his eyes darkening as you press your body against his, not letting an inch of space between you.

“You're really pushin it,” he warns lowly, hands finding your waist, fingers digging in hard enough to send a shiver cascading down your spine. "Makin’ me watch you run around in this fuckin’ thing.”

“Am I?” you reply coyly, fingers toying with the button of his jeans. “I’m just—” you start, but the words are swallowed by the thumping bass of the music as Logan’s lips crash against yours, silencing you with a hungry kiss.

His mouth moves against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless, and you can’t help but melt into him, feeling the world around you fade away.

The taste of beer mingles with the vodka on your tongue as you sink into the kiss, his hands tightening around you as he pulls you even closer.

“You have no fuckin’ idea how hard it is keepin’ my hands to myself,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. 

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” you tease, biting your lip as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze. You can see the fire smoldering in his eyes, the predatory glint that makes your stomach flutter with excitement. “But maybe you could show me just how hard it really is.”

Logan lets out a low growl, and before you can blink, he’s snatching your wrist up and dragging you through the kitchen. 

Laughter bubbles out from your chest as you trip over your own feet in an attempt to keep up with him. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, the warmth in your stomach dipping lower to leak sticky and wet between your thighs.

He’s not rushing, but there’s an undeniable urgency in his step, a raw need that makes your pulse race in sync with his heavy stride. Weaving you through the crowd and out into the hallway until the noise of the party gets lower and lower. 

You’re familiar enough with the layout of Wade’s place to know where Logan’s taking you, the bathroom.

The door is hardly shut before Logan’s spinning you around and crowding you against the sink. His lips are on you before you can even catch your breath, rough and possessive, as if he’s been starving for this all night. 

The kiss is rougher than before, dirty and all consuming as he claims your mouth. A mess of teeth and tongue and spit that sends your head spinning, body arching off the counter and into his instinctively. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he growls, trailing his lips down your neck, kissing and biting his way to your collarbone. “Drivin’ me so crazy, baby.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as his calloused fingers trace over the swell of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh with a possessive grip that makes your breath hitch. 

Your arms circle his neck, dragging him down for more filthy kisses. The thick length of his cock pressing against your stomach insistently has you keening, a hard plane of scalding warmth even through the thick material of his jeans.

You let out a soft whimper as his fingers brush against your inner thigh, and he grins at your reaction.

He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "Bet you’re already soaked for me, aren’t you?" His voice drops even lower, a filthy rasp that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

You don’t answer, can’t answer, because Logan’s already got his hand between your thighs, fingers teasing over the soft fabric of your bloomers.

His touch is feather-light, but it’s enough to have you gasping, head lolling back to expose even more of your neck to his fever hot lips.

He groans when he feels how soaked you are, his breath coming out in a rough exhale.

“Figures,” he grunts, his fingers pressing harder, rubbing slow circles over the slick fabric. “Could smell it on you from across the room. You’re fuckin’ drippin’ for me, baby.”

You whine, high in the back of your throat, chest heaving with every quick breath. Your legs spread, thighs widening like you can’t help it. His words send a wave of heat straight to your core, fanning the fire of need festering inside you. 

“Next year we’ll get you in a skirt,” he says, nipping at your bottom lip teasingly. His fingers slip under your bloomers, running through your slick folds teasingly. “Easy access.”

You let out a breathless moan, your hips bucking against his hand, begging for more.

“Logan,” you whimper, but he just smirks, applying more pressure with his palm as he leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your ear.

“You like that, don’t you?” Logan rasps, his voice thick with desire. Dark tone laced with satisfaction as he dips one finger inside you, making your breath catch in your throat. “Look at you, drippin’ down my hand. You want more, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you nod frantically, your breath coming in shallow pants as he continues working you with skilled, relentless touches.

Two thick fingers plunged in your aching pussy, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clit. "Please," you whimper, gripping the edge of the sink so tight your knuckles turn with it, needing more, needing him to ruin you. 

“Please what, honey?” he rasps, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You gotta be more specific.”

You grind against his hand faster, desperate for any kind of relief from the unbearable heat building between your legs. “I need you,” you breathe out, your voice trembling. “Need you to fuck me.”

Logan’s response is immediate. A low growl tearing its way from his throat as he gives your bottoms a rough tug, letting them fall down the length of your legs to pool at your ankles.

He slips his fingers out of you, ignoring your displeased whine and spinning you around to face the mirror, hands gripping your hips as he roughly bends you over the sink.

You find his eyes in the reflection, and the hunger there makes your pulse quicken. His lips are swollen, red and slick just like your own. Hazel eyes blown out and stormy, as he meets your gaze.

The fake whiskers and nose you drew on him before the party using an old eyeliner pen are smudged across the lower half of his face along with the red remnants of your lipstick. You have matching black marks scuffed along your cheeks.

"You’re gonna watch while I fuck you," he growls, popping the button of his jeans and pulling them down just enough to free his cock. He strokes himself once, twice, before lining up behind you, dragging the blunt head along your soaked entrance. "Don’t take your eyes off the mirror, baby. I want you to see what you do to me, what I get to see every fuckin’ time."

You nod breathlessly, eyes locked on his in the mirror as he pushes into you with one hard thrust. You gasp at the stretch, head falling to your chin at the pleasant burn of his cock.

"Fuck," Logan groans, his eyes glued to your reflection as he bottoms out inside you, the sheer size of him making your body tremble.

"Tight little fuckin’ pussy," he mutters, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to move, setting a brutal, unrelenting pace. "You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to take my cock."

You can’t stop the moans that fall from your slack lips, pathetic little uh uh uh sounds that get punched out of you with every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Take me so fuckin’ well,” he growls, one hand coming up to grip around your throat, tugging meanly at the bell of your choker that rings as he pounds into you, each thrust harder than the last. “Such a good little sheep, lettin’ your mean old wolf fuck you like this.”

 "Fuck," you moan, the sound broken and desperate as he drives deeper, the thick length of him hitting that spot that has your knees buckling beneath you. “God, Logan…”

“Look,” Logan commands softly, reverently. His lips brushing your shoulder with every word as he tilts your head back up to the mirror, making yourself watch as you take his cock. “Look at how fuckin’ pretty you are getting wrecked on my cock.”

Your reflection in the mirror is a mess—flushed cheeks, eyes glassy with lust, your lips parted in a constant stream of breathless moans. You feel embarrassment mixing with the arousal swirling through your stomach, thighs shaking wildly from the onslaught of pleasure.

The loud slap of skin on skin rings through the tiny bathroom, underscored by the wet gush of your pussy around him each time he buries himself in you.

If anyone were to walk by, they’d surely hear it. They’d know someone was getting fucked, really taking it. The thought alone has you tightening around Logan’s cock, velvety walls clenching around him desperately. 

Logan notices, because of course he does, clever eyes picking up on the way your own drift to the door, lingering.

He threads his fingers through your hair, meanly yanking your head back to the mirror, a feral grin stretching across his face as he watches the way you fall apart for him. 

“Want me to howl for you, baby?” he teases, breath hot against the shell of your ear. You can feel the way his lips curve into an evil grin at the pathetic whine that bursts from your lips, at the feel of your pussy drooling around him even more than before.  

“She likes that, huh?” he chuckles darkly, his thumb finds your throbbing clit, rubbing tight circles as his hips speed up impossibly faster. “Dirty fuckin’ girl, you want everyone to know how good I’m givin’ it to you?”

You whimper, overwhelmed by the raw intensity of his words and the rhythm of his thrusts. Your thighs are trembling, barely able to hold you up as Logan takes you apart, piece by piece, with every deep, punishing stroke.

"Answer me," he growls, voice dripping with dominance as his hips snap against you, the head of his cock slamming into that perfect spot inside you again and again. "You want everyone to hear what a dirty little slut you are for me, huh? You want them to know how much you love being fucked like this?"

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice shaky and breathless as pleasure floods your system. "Yes, Logan, fuck—ah! Just—just don’t stop."

Logan growls, low and feral deep in his chest. It shakes through your body, rattling your bones just as much as the heavy smack of his metal laced pelvis against the raw skin of your ass.

“Greedy fuckin’ pussy, I can feel the way she’s sucking me in, baby,” he grits out, hips stuttering slightly. “She want my come, darlin’?"

You’re a mess of gasps and whimpers, nodding frantically as his words push you closer to the edge. Throwing your hips back to meet his thrusts as the spring inside you coils tighter and tighter, a hair's breadth away from snapping.

"Yes, please, Logan," you moan, your fingers digging into the counter as you brace yourself for the relentless onslaught of his cock. "I want it, want you to come inside me." 

Logan’s hips stutter as he slams into you, his cock buried so deep inside you it feels like he’s splitting you in half. He’s close, his breath coming out in ragged pants as his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pressing against your pulse just hard enough to make you dizzy.

“You’re gonna come for me,” he growls, heavy balls slapping against your ass lewdly. “Gonna come all over my cock, aren’t you? And then I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna fuck my come so deep inside you, you’ll be beggin’ me to give you more.”

That’s all it takes for the coil in your belly to snap, pleasure surging through you in hot, uncontrollable waves. You cry out, your vision blurring as your body clenches around him, and Logan lets out a rough growl, driving into you harder, faster. 

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, dragging out every last second of your orgasm until you’re shaking, your voice hoarse from how loud you’re moaning.

“Goddamn, baby,” he mutters, his voice thick with lust as he keeps fucking into your trembling body. “You’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—gonna come so deep in you.”

Your breath is coming in short, desperate gasps, your entire body still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm. But Logan isn’t finished. He used the fistful of your hair still trapped in his hand, tugging your head back to meet his wild gaze in the mirror. 

“Eyes on me,” he commands, his pace growing erratic. “You want me to fill you up? Want me to come in this tight little pussy?”

“Yes, Logan,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely a whisper. “Please—I need it.”

With a deep, broken groan of your name, Logan slams into you one last time, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and thick. His fingers tighten on your throat, and you moan at the feeling of his cock pulsing, filling you up to the brim. 

You can’t stop the whine that falls from your lips at the feel of his come spraying your insides, completely drenching you with it. So much that it just has to take.

A shudder runs through you at the idea, pussy clenching around his spent cock weakly.

Logan sighs contently, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he catches his breath, hands falling to your waist like it's the only anchor keeping him from floating away entirely.

For a moment, the only sounds in the room are your ragged breaths and the faint thump of the music outside bleeding through the walls.

Logan tips his head back up, meeting your hazy eyes in the fogged up glass of the mirror with a shit-eating grin. “Happy fuckin’ Halloween,” he says smugly, dropping a kiss to the sweaty skin of your shoulder. 

You huff, rolling your eyes with a reluctant fondness. The thought of walking back out there makes your stomach turn, nerves and arousal churning together at the chance that everyone knows what you two were doing after disappearing for so long.

You only hope the white fabric of your bloomers is good enough at hiding the come already leaking from your pussy.

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[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ under your roof ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ your baby daughter really likes uncle wade’s roommate, and logan would be lying if he said he didn’t form a quick attachment to the two of you as well┊2.9k words; prt one (here), prt two, prt three coming soon!!

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: probably occ logan, he’s on his best behavior, mostly fluff with a little side of angst, single mother reader with an unspecified age, this chapter is mainly between logan & your daughter, reader has a bad relationship with the father & he’s an asshole, one joking threat of stabbing

➤ author's note: this was so much fun to write! single mom reader and her daughter are so lovely and i have two more part featuring these two and logan coming up! i hope you guys enjoy

kids don’t like logan. it’s not a profound discovery nor is it a surprise to anyone who learns this fact. he’s intimidating enough to make some full-grown men piss themselves with so much as a glare, much less little babies who start sobbing uncontrollably when they see a giant scary man walking around believing that he would eat them or something even though he’s literally just standing there. whether the little ones have an instinct that signals him out as a mutant or he simply looks like a bad man from one of their fairy tales, he isn’t sure, but it’s not the best feeling either way when he’s trying to settle back into normal life with the constant weight of knowing that he’ll never fit in.

it doesn’t help that, in general, he isn’t good with kids either. he’s generally patient with their immaturity since they don’t know any better, but he finds the crying and whining extremely headache-inducing to his sensitive senses without a clue how to calm them down.

moving in with wade and acquainting himself with his friends was a start, but the missing part of his life to make him finally feel loved and at home was the family of two who lived downstairs. the first time he met you was also the first time he met your daughter when wade told him to dress a little nicer because the two of them were invited to your place for dinner. he explained that the two of you were practically siblings and that it would probably be something he should get used to, reminding him to “turn that frown upside down” because he was about to meet someone who “puts gordon ramsey to shame.”

the last bit sounded great to him, especially because no one in their household knew how to make anything more complicated than noodles without setting it on fire and the cost of outside food was really starting to tally up. still, he just wore some cargo pants and threw on a leather jacket, running his fingers through his hair once which was already a lot more effort than he’s ever put into meeting anyone else before.

wade didn’t even bother knocking, just being himself and picking the lock as he so typically does, kicking the door open and yelling a loud ass “daddy’s home!” which echoed throughout the apartment as well as the hallway they were standing in. the mouth-watering smell of grilled salmon filled the air, making wade hum in excitement, “do you need help with anything? taste testing, perhaps?”

“no, do me a favor and stay away from the kitchen!” your voice rang out loud and clear, sounding much like a mother scolding a teenager for the thousandth time. “i’ll stab you, do me a favor and just hang out in the living room.”

“okie-dokie!” he responded in an annoying sing-song voice, “come on, peanut, take off your shoes.” the said man could already tell how at home his roommate seemed in this place, just as comfortable as he was back home, walking with steps he’s taken many times before and prompting logan to do the same (except he was mainly keeping to himself and being much more mild-mannered in this unfamiliar area).

the place was as spacious as the small area could be and tastefully decorated, but all sharp corners of furniture were taped over to dull the edges and the carpet had multiple kinds of colorful toys littered about. in the center of it all, was a little toddler about two or three years old, playing with a kitchen set and trying to copy what her mom was doing by running back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. she didn’t even notice the two men at first, not until wade called out her name and she dropped the plastic utensils to clap her hands together before waddling over to him.

“hey, baby! how are you doing? did you miss me?” he cooed in the high-pitched voice reserved only for mary puppins, reaching down to pick up the girl by her underarms and kissing her cheek, spinning around with her in his arms as she giggled uncontrollably. “do you wanna meet the big scary wolverine while i go bother your mommy? who am i kidding, of course you do!” he then dropped her onto the couch, making sure that she didn’t bounce up too high on the cushion and hurt herself. “okay, you keep her company while i go see what’s for dessert— bye!”

before logan could say anything, he was already gone, disappearing around the corner into the sound of sizzling foods and the scent of herbs. pursing his lips together and shuffling his feet around for a second, he grunted and braced himself for the child to start sobbing uncontrollably because she was left alone with him. the first time he meets you, whom he’s heard so many good things about, is going to be when you have to kick him out with his tail in between his legs for disturbing the peace of your home.

but the cries never came, and his eyes met her big curious ones as she just stared up at him in silence. it was honestly a tad bit unnerving like she was sizing him up and carefully thinking about her next move. 

and then she started giggling like earlier, kind of a more gurgling noise of playfulness more than anything, standing at his feet and waving around her short outstretched arms to signal that she wanted uppies from him.

“oh no—“ he’s not sure why he even let out a word or protest to begin with when he knew she wouldn’t listen, but it was pure instinct since, once again, he had no idea how to handle children. although she would probably also start crying if he didn’t listen to her, so he reluctantly bent down to pick her up, holding her close to the side of his chest and nervously awaiting her next move.

she was motionless for a minute with a little hand on her chubby cheek and the other trying to clutch onto the thick leather of his jacket, eyes darting around like she was seeing the world from a new perspective for the first time even though he was a hundred percent certain wade held her like his when they are the same height.

“kitty!”

“what?”

she pointed at the top of his head, his hair tuffs specifically, and reached out to pull on one of them curiously.

“no— not a kitty!” he’s never going to escape that fucking nickname, he wouldn’t be surprised if his roommate taught her to say that before she met him in person, able to perfectly envision wade crouching in front of her with a stupid picture of him on his phone and training her to say “kitty” every time she saw his photo by rewarding her with candy or something since there is no way she associated someone who looks like him to a kitten so quickly unironically.

“no kitty?”

“no— logan, lo-gan.”

she tried to pronounce his name a few times before giving up after getting stuck in the second syllable, blowing a raspberry and going back to what she was doing earlier— finding the most fun in tugging on his cowlicks like she was trying to figure out if he naturally woke up like that with the inability to brush them down or styled them with gel every day.

he sat down on the couch, the cushion sinking under his heavyweight, and sat your daughter down on his lap instead, except she didn’t want to sit down. standing on his lap and pressing her little feet into his thighs, she began to climb onto his shoulder like he was a jungle gym, using his arms as stepping stones to reach her destination while he bent over at the waist to allow her to crawl onto his back without falling behind him.

“you’re like a little lemur,” he muttered, still in slight shock that this kid seemed to like him and wasn’t freaking out like he was the big bad wolf. he wouldn’t admit it, but it was a really nice feeling that gave him a sense of normalcy like he was just some guy rather than the killing machine mutant most knew him as. she wouldn’t stop giggling and holding onto him, which made him feel his ice-cold heart melting like snow by spring’s first touch. 

all the while, he could hear you and wade chatting away in the background: something about him needing to step away from the stove, how you needed to trust him because him starting “that fire” was a one-time thing, what was for dessert, and then taking a sharp turn when the conversation suddenly shifted to the topic of the father.

he felt somewhat guilty about listening in, but he knew that deadpool was going to tell him eventually, so there wasn’t really any harm in a bit of eavesdropping (besides, it would have been difficult to ignore considering that your baby was being very well-behaved and his hearing wouldn’t have been able to pick up on anything else.)

“so… any news about her dad?” the solemn tone of a man who was hardly ever serious a day of his life was more terrifying than anything he’d ever witnessed in his long life.

“... he suddenly wants to be a family man, i guess…”

“what the hell does that even mean?”

the sound of a knife chopping vegetables against a wooden surface slowly came to a stop followed by a sigh. “like he wants to have a family… just not with the one he already started… he’s busy planning his wedding with the girl he cheated on me with and told me not to contact him again for any reason.”

“oh my god, what an asshole! fuck that guy!”

“i can’t believe that was the guy i thought i was going to spend the rest of my life with, could you imagine? i don’t even know what i could have done wrong for him to be like this— i asked him so many times and he just said that he’s ‘fallen out of love,’ has ‘moved on,’ and that i would ‘be cruel’ to ask him to stay even if it was for the sake of our child…”

“well if it’s any comfort, he would have been on the next episode of forensic files the second i got a moment alone with him— i mean, the last time we saw him, he literally pushed his own daughter away when she tried to hug him! what kind of sociopath wouldn’t adore such a cutie patootie, especially his own flesh and blood?! ”

“it’s fine,” you hissed, gritting your teeth at the memory. “it’s not like he’s done anything to deserve getting to be called a father to an angel anyway, i’ll take care of her myself— wait… didn’t i also invite your new roommate? did he not come?”

“no, he’s in the living room, he’s been here this entire time,” he informed, taking a bite out of an apple like an asshole from a film.

“and you didn’t tell me?!!!” you quickly ran into the said area, finding logan and your daughter together on the couch. “hi! oh, i’m so sorry i didn’t come to greet you properly— and left my daughter for you to look after too— god, i’m just a terrible host!” you tilted your head, “what’s your name?”

he then realized he was staring which was rather impolite, mouth slightly agape too like a fish out of water which left a few seconds of awkward silence in between. “i-i’m logan,” he managed to sputter, “nice to meet you..”

wade raised a nonexistent eyebrow at his strange mannerisms before a wide, shit-eating grin split his face. 

“aww, baby, why are you bothering this poor old man— come to mommy, it’s dinnertime,” you clapped your hands and held them out fully expecting her to reach out and grab onto you as she usually does, but instead she looked up at you with big pleading eyes and held onto him even more tightly like a koala clinging to a branch. “oh, did you get attached already? you really are my daughter… logan, could you do me a favor and put her in her high chair while i plate everything?”

“yes, of course.”

you turned back into the kitchen, leaving the two men to follow with one holding your baby in his arms. all it took was one look to understand what he was thinking, logan didn’t need to be a telepath to know. 

“if you don’t shut the fuck up—”

“i didn’t even say anything!”

“good, keep it that way.”

love at first sight, wade has seen it plenty of times and understands it well, something so unpredictable and powerful, that it could bring the wolverine down on his knees. it’s even more potent when he trips over himself seeing you in your natural environment instead of all dressed up for a first date, slightly sweaty from the heat radiating off the stove, unkempt hair sticking to the sides of your face, no makeup or defenses up— just you as yourself to the core.

“alright, bub, let's get you seated…” it took a few tries to get her in because she refused to align her little legs into the holes of the plastic piece, but she eventually got into it just fine and he pulled up his own chair to watch you place a one of the most decadent plates of pasta with chunks of salmon he’s ever seen in front of him with a word of gratitude. 

“sorry it isn’t anything special, i completely forgot that i arranged this in the first place….”

“oh, no, it’s perfect—”

“you’re damn right ‘it’s perfect!’” wade interjected, “lemme tell you, wolvie, this simple plate of pasta is better than sex, i know damn well you’ve never tasted anything like it in all your two-hundred years!”

“well, now that you say it like that, he’s going to have high expectations and it will taste like ass compared to the actual best pasta dish he’s ever had.”

“he likes ass, don’t worry—”

the said man cleared his throat to steer the conversation back around, feeling the foreign sensation of embarrassment burning his face hit him at full force. “it’s delicious, thank you, truly the best i’ve ever tasted.”

“aw, you don’t have to say that.”

“no, he’s right, i think you really outdid yourself this time!”

the dinner was carried by cheerful conversations and fun stories, and despite just meeting you today, logan almost felt like he knew you for years and this was something a commonplace tradition between loved ones which was something he’s been yearning for for as long as he can remember. as he watches you laugh and feed your adorable baby, he can’t help but wonder about the idiotic man who was willing to throw away something so wonderful— something which would complete his life and fill the void in his heart.

“well, you two can hang around while i clean her up and put her to bed. there’s some wine and beer in—” you watched as deadpool had already opened your fridge and was digging around like a raccoon in trash before fishing out two bottles of beers and closing the door with his hips. “alrighty then, i’ll join you two in a bit.”

he watched as you disappeared into the hallway before diving headfirst into the couch next to the wolverine and handing him his beer, kicking his feet and smiling as if he was a middle-schooler at an all girls’ sleepover. “okay, so she has a solid job as an accountant, has her own place and car, is funny and pretty, but most importantly for you, single. she doesn’t like flowers as gifts, but if you gift her groceries or cleaning supplies—”

“she wouldn’t want an asshole like me,” he grunted, taking a sip from the bottle. “not when she just got free from another one.”

“peanut, i met the other guy, you’re infinitely better than him! as much as i would like to keep you to myself, i have already planned out my speech at your wedding as your best man, so just keep in mind that i’m your wingman, okay? don’t lie to me either, i know you have a little crush, and i think she does too—”

“no, she doesn’t.”

“quit cutting me off, you motherfucker!”

it was easier to try and suppress the sprouting seed of infatuation before it bloomed out of control. he didn’t want to hurt you or himself by chasing something that shouldn’t be in the first place. you deserve better, you and your daughter. you both should have someone who was younger and had the energy to be a good father and husband, not some old mutant who was freeloading off of his roommate and terrified of losing more people he cared about. if you knew about the blood on his hands and the claws embedded in them, you would probably be worried that you allowed him to hold your baby and shun him permanently. 

and yet he was already attached, sitting here imagining domestic life where he could see her grow up through the phases of life and help her navigate its complexities while also waking up next to you in his arms and seeing your beautiful smile everyday. 

maybe he won’t let that glimmer of hope die out and just hold onto it for a little while longer, allowing it to leave a little lingering smile on his weary face.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader + reader is wearing a skirt and tights

toji loves eating your ass from behind. and he especially loves doing it when you're standing and he's down on his knees – extra points if you're letting him do it somewhere public and if you're wearing a skirt or a dress; the muffled squeal you let out as he turns you around and guides you to lean against the wall is like music to his ears – he hears the slap of you slotting your hand over your mouth to conceal any other sounds that might escape from your lips and he can't help but grin to himself.

he bunches the material of your skirt or your dress up enough, so he can finally get a glimpse of your underwear and the groan he lets out makes your knees weak. he presses your thighs together, his mossy green eyes set on your ass; his lips darts out to wet his lips, his head flooded with every pose he could ever possibly put you in.

you feel his fingers skim over your skin and then gasp out loud, your hand falling from your mouth when toji rips a hole in your tights. he catches your gaze over your shoulder and flashes you a wolfish grin before sinking his teeth into your plush flesh. you screw your eyes shut and bit your own lip, the feeling of his sharp teeth sending mixed flashes of both pleasure and pain through your body.

you hear voices and footsteps somewhere behind the door and you hate how much doing this in public turns you on. and what makes it even worse, is that toji isn't even fucking you – he's the one down on his knees, frothing at the mouth because he simply couldn't wait until you two get home to get a taste. he's the one begging for it, he's at your mercy.

toji grabs at your ass cheeks and pulls them apart before placing a kiss to your awaiting hole through your underwear. and then he's already yanking them to the side and shoving his face into your ass as if that's where he belongs.

he shakes his head from side to side, his tongue pressed firmly against your hole as you try to contain your mewls. subconsciously, you push your hips back towards him and the act makes toji pull away, forcing another whine out of you at the lack of contact.

"greedy little thing, hm?"

he gives your ass a slap but it's far from anything strong and loud – despite his eagerness to have you in public, he does not want anybody to find you two like this. he acts all big but he's possessive like that – he wants to keep you all to himself. it's not often he wants to be greedy but he just can't help it when it comes to you. he guards you like a dog, always at your heel and ready to obey your every command, the ridiculousness of them irrelevant in his clouded mind. you're the one in power; you're the one with the leash, tugging on his heartstrings with a steady hand.

but still, every so often he crumbles at your touch and takes the risk of being bad – when he tugged on your hand, when he led you to the quiet little room away from everybody else, he knew he was acting out on nothing but his carnal desires. and yet, you let him.

face buried between your cheeks while you grind yourself against him, using him like he's your toy – it's like a dream come true. he moans into your skin, his tongue pressed deep inside your tight hole and the vibrations that run through your body make your eyes roll back inside your head.

while keeping one hand on your thigh, kneading the flesh with his big hands, he lets the other fall to his own crotch. he's so fucking hard.

toji palms himself through his pants, hissing sharply at the friction. as you rock yourself into him, his hand starts to move in tandem with you. it's a sight to behold – toji, the big grumpy man, now desperately bucking his hips into his hand as he fucks your ass with his tongue.

not a single one of your hushed little sounds goes unnoticed by his keen ears; he listens to your gasps and your whimpers, his mind set on memorizing them all.

your orgasm hits you sooner than you'd expect; the tight knot in your tummy unravels the second toji stops playing with himself and starts pulling your hips back against his face with so much force you fear that you'll both fall over. his mouth is so, so fucking warm and you can feel his spit running all the way down your legs, and with the way he keeps groaning into you as if he's nearing his own orgasm aswell makes it impossible for you not to let go.

toji holds you there as you shake and tremble, his grip on your thighs never faltering as he laps at your hole like the starved man that he is. this time, he will go easier – he really doesn't want anybody to see you like this, not while he's pleasuring you, not after. those looks are for his eyes only. so, he pulls away with a pop and leans back to admire his masterpiece as you pant and heave against the wall.

his heart does flips in his chest when you finally turn to him with a fucked out grin on your face. his heart gives out when you trace over his cheekbone and lean down to plant a kiss to his scarred lips.

when you whisper to him.

"good boy."

[miiyas]

ROUTINE

atsumu was late, but there’s one thing he’d never forget to do.

wc: 452, fluff, post-timeskip, gn reader, not proof read

late. atsumu miya was late as hell.

his practice was supposed to start bright and early today- six am sharp. it was six fifty four right now.

“shit, shit, shit !!”

atsumu fumbled with the bag strapped around his shoulder as it falls on and off him. he runs around the house with panic in his eyes and calls out for you, opening the fridge doors to look for his protein shake, the one that you make.

“babe, did you find the jersey ?!” after a quick dig for the bottle, he quickly grabs for it and closes the doors a little too hard, making the containers inside rattle against each other gently. almost on queue, hearing your rushed footsteps, the blonde makes his way to the genkan, crouching down and stomping on his shoes with more force than he intends, creating unwanted creases. with one hand on his footwear, the other tugged open his practice bags stubborn zipper, trying to make it easier and faster for you to put in his washed (and probably still a little wet) jersey.

“hey, baby. put on your shoes, i’ll do this.” atsumu looks up at you as he hears your voice. his shoulders relax slightly but he wastes no time. he mumbles a quick ‘thanks’ before using two big hands to slip on his shoes. just as he finishes putting the pairs on, you finish putting the leftover items into his bag, stuffed with his change of clothes, shoes, and a few snacks you’d always thrown in. he quickly grabs for the strap and swings it on his shoulder as you rush him out.

“hurry, you’re late enough as it is !!” you quickly open the front door of the house, but atsumu stops and looks down at you, wide eyes and still displaying a bit of panic. but … there was something else behind it. and no matter how much you try and struggle, it’s hard to move a six foot two pro volleyball player out the door,.

“i forgot something !”

“‘tsumu, are you serious ?!” atsumu nods quickly, iris’s shining gently and leaning down to meet your face. cupping the side of your cheek with gentle hands, he places a gentle kiss on your lips.

oh, have you forgotten because of all the rush ? there has never been a moment when atsumu had left home without a kiss to your lips and a gentle ‘i love you,’ making the ring on your finger feel all the more noticeable.

“love ya. i’ll be home soon, yeah ?” with that, atsumu leaves the house with a quick swing of the door, rushing to his car as you hear him start the engine.

[moonstruckme]

hi i love your blog! could you write poly!marauders where james is away on a business trip and everyone is moping because they miss him

Hi, I love you! Thanks for requesting :)

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 863 words

You feel a bit guilty resting your head on Sirius' shoulder while longing for another. But you reason that it’s not so bad if the one you’re longing for is Sirius’ boyfriend, too. And you like to think that if it were James’ warm, cushiony shoulder you were leaning against, you’d be missing Sirius instead. 

“How was everyone’s day?” you ask. 

Remus turns to give you a peculiar look. “It was fine. We talked about this already, didn’t we?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I just feel like we’re not usually so quiet during the commercial breaks.” 

“Well, our yapper’s gone,” Sirius says sulkily. 

“James does usually start the conversation,” admits Remus. “But we don’t need him to talk, yeah?” 

“Right.” You nod, sitting up with what you hope looks like conviction. “Sirius, you can yap just as well as James can.” 

“Yeah, but I need him to get me going.” Your boyfriend sighs heavily. “He’d probably ask something like ‘If we were all in a circus, what would our roles be?’ and I can’t come up with shit like that.”

“No, that’s great!” You try to sound peppy. “Um, okay. Sirius would probably be a trapeze artist, right?” 

Remus nods. “And I could see you being a tightrope walker.” 

You both look to Sirius for his analysis, but he looks unimpressed. Still, he plays along. “Rem would be one of those blokes who eat fire, likely.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. 

See, you can have fun! This is fun, right? But then your film comes back on, and you all lapse into silence again. 

“James would’ve never let us watch this,” you say after a few minutes. “He’d have made us pick a comedy or something.” 

“And he would’ve been right,” Sirius agrees. “This is fucking bleak.” 

“It’s not so bad,” Remus says, making you and Sirius exchange a look. For as much as James loves Remus, he’s most often the victim of his film vetoes. Remus’ taste is bleak. 

It’s another few minutes before an actress on-screen says a line, and Remus clears his throat awkwardly. 

“That’s what she said.” 

You and Sirius look at him with a mixture of befuddlement and alarm. 

“What?” He shifts in his seat. “I’m trying to fill a gap.” 

Sirius appears scandalized. “James’ jokes are far more advanced than that.” 

“He said ‘that’s what she said’ just last week.” 

“Yes, but in a completely different context!” 

“We could call him,” you point out. 

Remus’ expression creases longingly. “No, he’s been in meetings all day. I’m sure he’ll want to rest.” 

But Sirius clicks the speaker button on his phone, letting the dial tone play aloud. Remus looks almost relieved. 

James picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

“Hi,” you all say loudly, voices each trying to be heard over the others. 

“We need you to come home,” Sirius whines. 

“What?” James sounds closer to the speaker now, like he’s holding the phone tight to his face. “Is everything okay?” 

“Don’t say that,” Remus hisses at Sirius. “Everything’s fine, Jamie.” 

“We just miss you,” you clarify. 

“Oh.” The relief is obvious in your boyfriend’s voice, and you notice your other two boyfriends smiling fondly at the sound of it. You think your own expression probably looks just about as humiliatingly smitten. “Awe. I miss you guys, too. Like crazy, you have no idea.” 

“I think we have some.” Sirius raises a brow at the phone. “Rem just tried to make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke.” 

A sharp cough crackles through the speaker. “Did he? How did it go?” 

“Poorly.” 

“Ah, well.” You can practically feel the warmth of James’ smile from hundreds of miles away. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll work on it when I get back.” 

“I’d rather not do it again, actually,” Remus grumbles. 

“How was your day?” You lean on Sirius’ shoulder again, getting close to the phone like James is contained within it. 

“Boring,” he says emphatically. “I got told off by some old woman for tapping my pen on my pad too loudly while someone was giving a presentation. The hotel they’ve put us up in isn’t bad, though. Free breakfast in the morning to get us energized for another day or torment.” 

“Ooh, could you see if they have those little blueberry muffins?” Sirius asks. “And if they do, wrap me up a few to bring home with you.”

“Sirius,” Remus chides. 

“I’ll check,” James agrees easily. “Rem, do you want some chocolate ones if they have those?” 

If James could see the way your boyfriend flushes pink, he’d be grinning ear to ear. “Yes, please,” Remus replies. 

“Brilliant. And for you, lovie?” 

“I’ll just mooch off of Sirius’ blueberry ones.” You snicker when Sirius gasps, sneaking a hand around your waist to pinch at your middle. 

“Oh, perfect,” says James. “I’ll make sure to grab a few less, then, so you can really fight over them.”

“Prick,” Sirius accuses. 

“Love you, too. So, how was everyone else’s day?” 

You catch yourself smiling a second before seeing a similarly contented expression reflected on Sirius’ face. Remus moves from his armchair to the couch, and you all lean into the phone as you tell him. 

[r6eduss]

Girllll what if an imagine where S3! Daryl and y/n are a thing and when Daryl left with his brother, rick and the others were the one who told y/n that he just left and she was so devastated that when daryl eventually came back she treated him coldly then eventually breaking down in front of him because they think it's easy for daryl to leave them

Idk maybe angsty in the beginning then fluffy at the end?? This scenario is stuck in my head for D A Y S 😩

Anws thanks!!

Listen before I go.

•Summary: Daryl leaves with Merle without thinking how it would affect you. (Fem Reader)

•Warnings: 18+, Twd violence, angst, fluff

•Word count: 2.6k

•Setting: The Prison

•A/N: thank you for the request! I’m really sorry if this isn’t what you wanted and you aren’t happy with it 😭 I rewatched a couple episodes to try and make it as accurate as possible to the actual series. also I’m a very strong believer that Daryl would call his partner sweetheart 🤞🏼(I promise I’ve seen all the other requests I’ve gotten!)

Rick, Daryl, and Oscar had set out to rescue Glenn and Maggie, who were being held prisoner in Woodbury. Michonne had accompanied them, serving as their guide through the hostile territory. The operation, however, hadn't gone as smoothly as planned. They had lost Oscar in the chaos, and the Governor had captured Daryl, forcing him into a brutal situation—pitting him against his own brother, Merle.

As the dust settled and the group reconvened, Glenn and Michonne stayed behind to watch over the car while Rick and Maggie went back for Daryl, determined not to leave him behind. Against their better judgment, they returned with more than just Daryl—Merle had tagged along, at Daryl’s insistence. Now, back at the car, an intense discussion was brewing over whether Merle and Michonne should be brought back to the prison.

“The Governor is probably headin’ to the prison righ’ now. Merle knows how he thinks and we could use the muscle,” Daryl’s eyes locking on Rick, his tone resolute. One way or another, he was bringing his brother back.

Tension radiated from Glenn and Maggie. Glenn, still nursing wounds from Merle’s brutal interrogation, was barely containing his anger. Maggie stood close, her face tight with the memory of her own trauma at the hands of the Governor. “He had a gun to our heads! You really want him sleeping in the same cell block as Carol or Beth?” Glenn's voice shook, both with fury and concern for his family’s safety.

Daryl shot back quickly, defensive. “He ain’t a rapist.” But Glenn was faster. His words were sharp, cutting through Daryl’s protest like a knife. “Well his buddy is.”

Daryl’s face tightened. “They ain’t buddies no more. Not after last night,” he said, growing more frustrated. To him, this was simple—Merle was family. Family was non-negotiable. Why was this even up for debate?

Rick, observing the growing argument, finally stepped in, his voice measured but firm. “There’s no way Merle’s gonna live there without putting everyone at each other’s throats.”

Daryl’s patience was fraying. “So ya gon’ cut Merle loose and bring the last samurai home with us?” His irritation was clear. They were even considering taking Michonne—someone they barely knew—while debating his own brother?

The group paused as Maggie spoke up, her voice softer but filled with conviction while gesturing towards Michonne. “She’s in no state to be on her own,” The trauma they'd all just endured weighed heavily on her, and she couldn't understand why Daryl seemed blind to it.

Rick and Daryl exchanged a look. They had their doubts about Michonne, and Rick had voiced that, telling the group that she’s not going back with them. “That’s righ’, we don’t know who she is. But Merle? Merle’s blood.” Daryl threw the statement out like it should end the conversation, as if everyone would automatically agree.

But Glenn’s response was immediate and cold. “No, Merle is your blood. My family is right here. And they’re waiting for us back at the prison.” His words hung in the air, heavy with finality. Maggie nodded in agreement, she wasn’t about to let Merle, of all people, endanger what little they had left.

Rick stepped closer to Daryl, his voice steady, attempting to bridge the growing divide. “And you're part of that family, Daryl. Not him.”

The statement struck Daryl hard. He looked baffled, wounded even. If they considered him family, why wouldn’t they accept his brother? “Man, y’all don’t know.” He shook his head, anger and confusion swirling inside him.

The silence that followed was tense. Everyone stared at Daryl, unsure of what more they could say. In their eyes, the decision was obvious—but for Daryl, it was far from simple. Finally, Daryl exhaled sharply. “Fine. We’ll fend for ourselves.”

The words hung in the air like a threat, and instantly the group erupted in protests. There was panic now, a desperation to keep Daryl from making a stupid decision out of anger. “No him, no me,” Daryl snapped, his voice thick with frustration. He felt cornered, like there was no room for him to protect both his blood and his new family.

Maggie stepped forward, “Daryl, you don’t have to do this.” He looked at her, and for a moment, his hardened expression faltered. “It was always Merle and me before this,” he said quietly, the pain in his voice clear. He was torn, and it was written all over his face.

Glenn, still reeling from everything, asked a question that Daryl forgot to consider in the heat of the moment. “What do you want us to tell Y/N?” It was a simple question, but one that carried so much weight. They both knew it would devastate you.

Daryl hesitated, his gaze dropping. “She’ll understand.” But there was a crack in his voice, a hint of uncertainty, deep down he knew that you in fact wouldn’t understand. The group fell silent, letting the gravity of the moment sink in.

For a long moment, Daryl stood there, chewing on the inside of his lip, torn between his past and his present. Finally, he began moving, heading toward the car. “Say goodbye to your pop for me.” Directing his comment towards Maggie. Rick quickly followed, refusing to let this situation go. “Hey, hey. There’s got to be another way,” he pleaded, knowing how hard this would hit not just Carol but you too.

Daryl paused, his back still to Rick. “Don’t ask me to leave him,” he said, accent thick as ever. “I already did tha’ once.” Arriving at the trunk he begins stuffing supplies into his bag, while telling Rick and them to take care of themselves. He hoists it over his shoulder, glancing one last time at the group, and walking away with Merle.

You stood quietly, arranging your belongings. Your cell had become somewhat of a sanctuary for you, a space to shape, however fragile, into a semblance of back home. You carefully sat down on your bed, deciding that you were going to nap, until you heard a knock, and saw Rick standing just outside. His hands rested against the cracked walls, not wanting to intrude too much. “How are you doing?” he asked, his voice very careful.

You offered a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m okay.” It was silent for a moment, you could tell he had more to say. “Is everything okay?” Rick slowly brought his gaze from your face to the ground, wondering how he could bring the news to you. “Listen.. Daryl’s gone. Left with Merle.”

Your heart lurched violently in your chest, but outwardly, you kept still, trying to keep your breath steady while each inhale felt like swallowing glass. “Is he coming back?” He was coming back right? You two had something special did you not?

Rick’s expression was one of apology, his shoulders heavy with the weight of what he had broke to you. “I don’t know. He told me you’d understand.” Understand? Understand that Daryl had chosen to abandon the love you thought you both had? Without even saying goodbye?

“Okay.” You replied softly, your voice refusing to betray the devastation roaring inside you. You couldn’t fall apart, and especially not in front of Rick.

He lingered for a moment longer, “if you need anything..—“

“I’ll be fine, Rick. Thank you.”

He gave you a solemn nod before stepping back into the hallway, the silence in your cell feeling almost suffocating. You sat frozen for a very long moment, staring at ceiling. Then, like a dam breaking, the tears came, hot and unbidden, blurring your vision as the enormity of it all crashed down on you. You sank onto your bed, your body shaking with silent sobs and your heart aching in ways you hadn’t expected. You’ve always known that Daryl was complicated, guarded.. but why did he leave? Were you not important enough to him? Did you really mean that little? A hundred questions burned in your mind, and none of them had answers.

It felt like an eternity before the next day finally arrived. The night had been restless, your mind circling endlessly around one thing, and that one thing was Daryl. The way he had just stood up and left you behind, it left a pit in your stomach that only deepened with each passing hour. But today, you had bigger problems, problems that made personal heartache seem almost insignificant.

Glenn was gone, in attempts to clear his mind. With Daryl gone and Rick wandering crazy town, he was the next in charge, and right now he had a lot of pent up anger on what the governor did to Maggie. But of course, while he was gone, the Governor had made his move, and it was brutal. His forces stormed the prison with a cold, ruthless efficiency, and everything erupted before you had time to prepare. Axel was the first to fall, a sharp crack of gunfire cutting through the air as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Carol, who had been standing just beside him, let out a sharp cry of shock. In a heartbeat she ducked behind Axel’s now motionless body, using him as a shield.

Bullets ripped through the air, the deafening sound of gunfire filling the space as you scrambled for cover. You crouched behind the crumbling remains of the prison walls that were near the gate, heart hammering in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins. You clutched your rifle tightly, hands shaking slightly as you peeked out from behind the wall, eyes scanning for targets.

There. One of the Governor's men was in your line of sight, crouched low, his rifle trained on the courtyard. Without hesitating, you aimed and pulled the trigger. The recoil jolted your body, but you didn't wait to see if you hit your mark. You ducked back behind the wall, the echo of gunfire ringing in your ears. Around you, The group fought just as hard, each of them locked in their own battles.

As you leaned out again, carefully scanning for your target who you hadn’t known already retreated, your eyes fell on Herschel, who was still exposed in the courtyard. Rick, positioned just outside the fences, was also in a precarious situation. At that moment, the Governor and his men launched an assault, sending a car to smash through the courtyard fence. Herschel, crouched in the field with his rifle, began to feel the weight on him as walkers started to flood in from every direction.

The fear was palpable among you, Rick, and especially Maggie as you all dreaded the possibility of losing Herschel. Just as the Governor began to leave, Glenn had returned, driving into the courtyard while Michonne followed the truck, cutting through the walkers that stood in her way. Their intervention was a lifesaver; they quickly rescued Herschel, escorting him into the truck and out of the courtyard, into the safety of the prison gates.

Outside, Rick was struggling to fend off the relentless walkers closing in on him. Just when things seemed dire, a bolt flew through the air, striking the head of the walker attacking Rick. Daryl and Merle had returned, joining forces with Rick to clear the remaining walkers. Daryl and the rest of your family were okay.. and that’s all you needed to know before bolting back toward your cell, trying your best to avoid the archer in the process.

A couple hours later you found yourself sat on your bed, running your fingers absentmindedly over the pages of an old journal you started keeping. Without looking up, you could heard the familiar sound of boots shuffling just outside your cell. Daryl stood awkwardly in the doorway, his hand brushing against the frame of the cell, his shoulders hunched slightly as though the weight of the world rested on them. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, the air between them thick with tension.

"Hey," he muttered finally, his voice gravelly and hesitant.

You looked up at him then, your expression unreadable. Daryl shifted his weight, uncomfortable under your gaze. Without a word, you stood and brushed past him, your shoulder grazing his as you walked out of the cell. Daryl flinched at the contact, his jaw tightening. The cold shoulder hit him harder than any words could have, and as he watched you walk away, he felt the guilt gnawing at his insides.

The distance between you two only grew more unbearable. As the days flew by, you continued to ignore him, feeling as if he didn’t deserve your attention, while Daryl found himself missing the soft touch of your hand, the warmth you brought into his life that no one else ever could. He couldn’t stay away any longer. He needed to fix this.

He found you sitting on the edge of your bed again, scribbling quietly in your journal like yesterday, not looking up when he entered, just blatantly ignoring him.

"Damn it, why’re ya avoidin’ me?" His frustration finally boiled over, his voice harsher than he meant it to be. You paused, setting the journal down slowly before looking up at him with steely eyes, the walls around you finally beginning to crack. "Why did you leave, Daryl?" Your was voice trembling but controlled, laced with anger. "Was it that easy?"

Daryl froze, his usual tough exterior faltering. He wasn’t used to being confronted like this, especially by you. He fidgeted, biting the inside of his lip. "It ain’t like that… Merle— he’s my blood."

"And what am I, Daryl?" You instantly snapped, voice rising higher as your emotions spilled over. "Why was it so easy for you to leave me? You didn’t even say goodbye. Did you not care?" Daryl’s gaze fell to the ground, avoiding yours at all costs. “I wasn’t thinkin’ straight”

Your eyes instantly widened in disbelief and hurt. “You left me here, alone, when I thought we had something! You weren’t even clear headed enough to think about how it would affect me!” Daryl flinched at edge of your voice. “I didn’t know what to do! I was tryin’ to do what I thought was right.”

You stood up abruptly, your anger radiating off you. “What was right?! You think abandoning me without a word is doing what’s right? Why’d you even come back if clearly all you needed was Merle.”

Your words cut deeper than any wound he’d ever taken. He stood there, staring at you, the silence stretching painfully between you both. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I came back 'cause I realized I love ya."

Your heart fluttered at his words, the anger in your eyes softening, though the hurt was still there. For a very long pause you just stared at him, scanning his eyes for any possible doubt for what he just admitted to you. “..Actually?” You really couldn’t believe it, you never thought he’d be the one to say those words first, but he did. All You wanted to do was stay mad, to push him away for making you feel like you didn’t matter, but the vulnerability in his voice stopped you. He again chewed the inside of his lips and nodded slowly to answer your question. "I’m sorry." he mumbled, looking down. He looked like he was about to cry, and in that very moment you just wanted to nurture him.

So without thinking, you closed the distance and wrapped your arms around him. Daryl tensed at first, his back stiffening at the unexpected embrace, but after a moment, he slowly relaxed, his arms wrapping around you in return and leaning down into your neck, feeling comfortable and safe.

"I love you too.. but don’t ever leave me again."

Daryl leaned back and pressed a gentle kiss onto your forehead, lingering just for a moment. “I won’t, sweetheart.”

And that was a promise he’d never break. Not for anybody.

@vampiresluv

[pupkashi]

a/n: i just wanted to write abt yuta being scary and sexy so here is my word vomit

masterlist

thinking abt bf!yuta who looks and acts so pathetic around u but is so protective and intimidating

yuta is so helplessly in love and devoted to you, even a blind man can feel the love he has for you a mile away. yuta is the first to laugh at your jokes, the first to tell you happy birthday and congratulate you on everything. he’ll give you anything you want the minute you ask for it, no matter what it is.

yuta doesn’t get into arguments with you, he’ll apologize for whatever he did wrong and prove to you he’ll never make the same mistake again. he’ll shower you in gifts and acts of service and spend as much quality time with you as you want.

there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you.

yuta okkotsu isn’t the beefiest man on the planet, nor is he the tallest. but he is the most intimidating when he wants to be. and whenever anyone is a little too friendly with you, he definitely wants to be.

it’s only been two minutes since he left to the use restroom and there there some douchebag was, trying to flirt with you. it makes his blood boil, seeing someone who isn’t him be that close to you, trying to buy you a drink as you politely decline him.

it takes only a moment for yuta to walk up to you, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you close to him.

“who’s this, angel face?” he asks you, his voice is soft and sweet as he speaks to you, but his eyes are sharp and venomous as he stares at the other man.

“he just was talking to me about some sport, he’s nobody yuu” you smile, trying your best to contain the situation while you could.

“yeah i was just leavin, don’t wanna waste my time on something used” the man snorts, turning around before his body is jolted backwards as yuta grabs his wrist.

the man immediately cried out in pain, knees buckling as yuta’s grip only tightened. “how ‘bout you quit crying and apologize,” yuta taunts, jaw clenched as his grip grew stronger.

“baby please i don’t want a scene” you plead, squeezing his arm and forcing him to look at you. yuta always thought your eyes were so alluring. something about them brought him a sense of serenity he never thought was possible.

“okay” he mumbles, letting go of the man’s wrist, rolling his eyes as the man cradled his now broken wrist, crying out about his pain and running the opposite direction.

the two of you don’t stick around, walking out into the hot summer breeze before you stop, hands on your hips as you stare at your lover.

“yuta” your tone is more than enough to stop him dead in his tracks, slowly turning on his heel with a sheepish smile on his face.

if you didn’t know your lover, you never would’ve guessed that the man who’s a stuttering and blushing mess in front of you broke a man’s write for flirting with you.

his shoulders are slouched a bit, strands of black hair framing his face perfectly as he tried his best to defend himself.

“I’m sorry darling” he begins, already giving you the puppy eyes you fall for, “i couldn’t just stand by and let some scumbag try to talk you up without-” you cut him off by grabbing his hand and pulling him to sit with you on a nearby bench.

“pretty boy, you know I’m only yours right?” the words make yutas fave flush a deep red, nodding softly as he looks at the ground. “you don’t have to fight or threaten every person who gets too close to me, i can handle myself” you explain.

“you shouldn’t have to” yuta mumbles, looking at you with a small pout. “i wanna be the one to protect you,” he sighs, “i wanna let the world know that they shouldn’t even think about trying anything with you.”

there’s a beat of silence and yuta is about to apologize again before you’re crashing your lips onto his. it’s a shock to him, but he immediately kisses you back, smiling when you bite his bottom lip softly.

“cmon let’s go home,” you smile, laughing when yuta practically jumps up, back to his sunshine smile as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“you wanna make some cookies and watch a movie?” he asks, swinging your held hands as you two walks together down the empty street.

“you read my mind, pretty” you grin, leaning into him as the two of you walked, loving how he instinctively put his arm over your shoulder and kissed the top of your head.

there’s not a care in the world for you. you’d never have to look over your shoulder or carry a weapon with you. as long as yuta was by your side the only thing you’d have to worry about is stopping him from killing anyone who hurt you, intentionally or not.

[lostfracturess]

─── games and matches | ch. 01

pairing — satoru gojo x suguru's daughter reader

summary — after a night of partying and drinking, you run into none other than satoru gojo — your dad's infuriatingly hot best friend who you haven't seen in years. blame it on the alcohol, but you start flirting with him. and he flirts back. so, can it really be that wrong to want to fuck your dad's best friend? after all, what happens in the kitchen at 3AM stays in the kitchen, right?

word count — 13.2 k (chapter 1/3)

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference, alcohol use, drunk sex, unprotected sex, penetration, fingering, edging, oral (female receiving), hair pulling, underwear in your mouth lol, in need of heavy daddy issues to enjoy this.

author's note — idk what to say about this, was in the mood to write something dumb and fun, so don't dwell too much on the plot and just enjoy the vibes of this story haha. happy reading !! comments and reblogs are love <3

masterlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

"Well well, look who it is."

Suddenly, the light flickered on.

You froze, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. Heart racing, you spun around to find Satoru Gojo, your dad's best friend — no, scratch that, your dad's ridiculously hot best friend — leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

You stood there in the doorway, taking in the sight of him. 

It had been years since you'd last seen him. You'd nearly forgotten about him — but not quite. He looked different now. Older. 

Hotter.

"Quite the late night, huh?" he remarked.

His piercing gaze raked over your barely-there party dress, taking in the way the short, black fabric clung to your curves. You could only imagine how you looked — smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, and cheeks flushed.

It was well past three in the morning on a Wednesday, and you'd just stumbled home from a college party, the remnants of cheap tequila still swirling in your bloodstream. 

The last thing you needed was a run-in with Satoru, especially when he looked so damn good in that black shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and a navy overshirt casually rolled up to his elbows. 

Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

"Fuck, Satoru. You scared me," you whisper-hissed, your voice a bit hoarse. "What the hell are you doing here at this hour?”

He raised an eyebrow, a slow, amused smirk spreading across his face. "I could ask you the same question, love. Don't you have classes in a few hours? Or did they start giving out degrees for partying these days?"

You rolled your eyes, slipping out of your heels and sighing in relief as your aching feet met the cool tiles. As you bent to arrange your shoes, your short dress rode up, the hem barely skimming the curve of your thighs.

"What does that concern you?"

"Because you're the daughter of my best friend, of course. Now, be a good girl and tell me where you've been."

You sighed. "I was at a college party, obviously.”

"You drunk?" 

“No," you lied, even as the remnants of tequila still thrummed through your veins, making everything pleasantly hazy around the edges.

Satoru's gaze followed your every move as you walked past him to the sink in the kitchen. The room suddenly felt smaller with his presence, the air thick. You reached for a glass from the cabinet, the hem of your dress riding up even further, a sliver of skin flashing in the dim light.

"That's quite the outfit for a college party," he commented, his gaze lingering on your exposed skin. 

You filled your glass with tap water. "It's a normal dress for a normal party. You're too old to know that. What, did they not have parties back in your day?" 

"I'm not that much older than you." 

"Yeah, like just a good 16 years or what?" you scoffed, taking a sip of water.

In the dim moonlight that spilled through the kitchen windows, you noticed the faint flush high on Satoru's cheekbones, the telltale glassiness in his normally sharp eyes. The subtle scent of bourbon clung to him.

He's drunk too, you realized with surprise.

You lifted your chin. "You're drunk."

"I'm not.”

"Oh really?" you challenged, setting your water glass down on the counter with a soft clink. "Prove it then. How many fingers am I holding up?"

You held up three fingers in front of his face. He squinted at your hand, before he reached out, his fingers warm as they wrapped around your wrist, tugging your hand down gently.

"That's not how you measure how drunk someone is. But I can assure you, I'm perfectly sober.” His gaze shifted down, resting on your chest. “Sober enough to see that dress of yours is way too low cut for a woman your age."

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you suddenly became acutely aware of just how much cleavage you were showing. You tugged at the neckline of your dress, trying to adjust it higher, but the silky fabric simply slipped through your fingers.

"I'm grown up now, if you haven't noticed. And besides, it's not that low.”

"If you say so.” He shrugged out of his navy overshirt. “But just in case, why don't you put this on? Wouldn't want you catching a cold in that scrap of fabric you're calling a dress."

He held out his jacket to you, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

"I'm not cold," you said, but even as the words left your mouth, a shiver ran through you. The kitchen tiles were cool beneath your bare feet, and the thin material of your dress did little to ward off the chill of the night air.

Satoru noticed, of course. 

His smirk widened. "Sure you're not. But humor me, will you?"

You glared at him. Finally, you snatched the jacket from his outstretched hand. "Fine. But only because I don't want to listen to you nag."

You shrugged into the jacket, immediately engulfed by Satoru's scent — a heady mix of expensive cologne, cigarette smoke and something uniquely him. The sleeves fell past your fingertips, and the hem hit your mid-thigh, covering much more of you than your dress did. You had to admit, it felt nice. 

Comforting, almost.

Satoru's gaze softened as he took in the sight of you drowning in his clothes. "There. Much better. Now you look less likely to give some poor teenage boy a heart attack."

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

He grinned. "Part of my charm, love, can't you remember?”

You rolled your eyes. 

He hasn't changed a bit. Still the same old Satoru, with his quick wit and insufferable smirk. But damn if he didn't look good. 

The years had been kind to him, that's for sure.

You hopped up onto the kitchen counter, the cool marble sending a shiver up your spine as it met your bare thighs. Satoru's jacket rode up as you settled, the soft fabric bunching around your waist, but you were far too focused on the man across from you to care.

Blame it on the alcohol.

You picked up your abandoned glass of water, taking a long, slow sip as you watched him lean back against the opposite counter, his long legs stretched out before him, arms crossed over his broad chest.

In the dim light filtering through the blinds, shadows played across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline and the subtle curve of his lips. God, he looked even better than you remembered him.

His gaze never left you, his eyes dark pools. His glance made you feel a strange warmth that spread through your body, a heat that had nothing to do with the tequila you'd consumed earlier.

But you pushed it away. 

It was just the alcohol talking, you told yourself. 

It had to be.

"So," you started. "You never did answer my question. What are you doing here at this hour?”

Satoru ran a hand through his tousled hair, the white locks falling back into place effortlessly. Damn him. "Well, your old man and I were out for drinks earlier. Celebrating closing a big case we've been working on."

You raised an eyebrow. "Dad doesn't usually stay out this late."

"No, he doesn't. Man's a total lightweight. Two bourbons in and he was ready to hit the karaoke stage".

You nearly choked on your water at the image. "Tell me you got that on video."

"Oh, you know it," Satoru grinned. "Blackmail material for a lifetime. But someone had to be the adult and get him home before he really made a fool of himself. Dropped him in bed right before you stumbled in, actually."

"My hero," you teased, taking another sip of water. "So, this big case, it was the Johnston trial, right? Dad mentioned it, said it was huge for your firm." You tilted your head, observing him. "You just here for the case, or are you sticking around?"

He shrugged, the movement casual, but you could see the glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Initially just for the case, but I'll be around for a bit to wrap things up. It was a team effort, though. Everyone put in a lot of long hours."

"Look at you, being all humble. Dad said you led this one. Said you absolutely destroyed the other side in court. Had them in tears, from what I heard."

"Oh, did he now?" His smirk widened, clearly enjoying the praise.

"Mhmm," you hummed, leaning back on your hands, the marble counter cool against your palms. "Seems the press is calling you a legal genius or something, too.”

"Well, they're not wrong, are they? I am pretty damn brilliant."

You huffed out a laugh. "Careful, counselor. Keep winning cases like this and that ego of yours might just burst."

"Ah, but you'd be there to keep me humble, wouldn't you?"

"I don't think anyone could keep you humble, Satoru. Least of all me."

"Oh, I don't know about that." He fixed you with his piercing blue eyes, the intensity making your breath catch in your throat. "I have a feeling you could bring me to my knees without even trying."

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry.

Damn him and his smooth lines. 

Satoru's eyes were dark, smoldering as they bore into yours. You felt pinned beneath his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, your skin tingling with a strange sensation. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he broke the silence. 

"So, how's tennis going? I heard you're quite the rising star on campus. Beating all the boys and making them cry, huh?"

You scoffed. "Did you really expect anything less from me?"

"Nah, I always knew you'd be dominating the court someday. You were born to be a champ." 

"Oh, don't tell me you're a fan now," you said with a grin. "Want me to sign something for you before I get too famous and forget all about you?"

"Please, as if you could ever forget about me, love." 

You tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze head-on. "That ego of yours is something else, isn't it? How do you even fit through doorways with a head that big?" 

"Look who's talking. Your ego seems to be doing just fine too." 

His lips curled into a smirk. He fixed you with his gaze, those piercing blue eyes seeming to see right through you, sending shivers down your spine. It was unnerving, his gaze — and undeniably thrilling.

For a moment you thought he was flirting with you. But that couldn't be right. The alcohol must be messing with your perception, making you read into things that weren't there.

Then, he spoke again. "How was the party?"

"Oh. It was...fine, I guess. Pretty lame, actually."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? And here I thought college parties were supposed to be the highlight of your young adult life."

You shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his jacket. "Maybe for some people. But getting drunk off of cheap beer and watching my classmates make fools of themselves isn't really my idea of a good time."

"No?" He tilted his head, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. "Then what is your idea of a good time?"

“I don't know. Something more exciting than a frat party, that's for sure."

"Exciting, huh?”

Satoru's eyes glinted with mischief as he pushed off the counter. He walked over to the liquor cabinet where your father kept his prized collection and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a bottle of top-shelf vodka.

"Well then," he drawled, grabbing two tumblers from the shelf above. "If the party was such a bust, why don't we make our own fun?"

He returned to you, placing the glasses on the counter beside your hip with a clink that seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet of the kitchen.

"And that's your definition of fun?" you asked. “Having drinks with your best friend's daughter at three in the morning?"

"Ah, but you're not just any daughter, are you?" He uncapped the vodka and poured a generous amount into each glass. "And besides, I'm curious. Those college boys at the party, they don't do it for you?"

He handed you your glass, his gaze never leaving yours. You took it, swirling the clear liquid and watching it catch the light. "Not really. They're all so... immature. All talk and no substance."

"Is that why you don't have a boyfriend? Because no one's managed to capture your interest?"

You emptied your glass in one satisfying gulp, the vodka burning a pleasant trail down your throat. You reached for the bottle, but Satoru was faster, his hand already at the neck, refilling your glass before you could blink.

"I guess," you admitted, watching the crystal tumbler fill with clear liquid. “That, and I've been busy with college, obviously. Dating hasn't exactly been a priority.”

"Mmm, I call bullshit.” He placed the refilled glass in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. "A woman like you, with your looks? You could have any man you wanted, studies be damned."

Oh god, you thought, your mind racing. 

He's indeed flirting with you. 

And you're flirting back.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous thrill that combined with the warmth of the alcohol was probably a bad thing.

Was this really happening?

Were you actually flirting with Satoru Gojo, the man your dad considered a brother?

But now, in the dim light of the kitchen, he was something else entirely. He looked good. Damn good. The kind of good that made your mind wander to places it definitely shouldn't. 

And the way he was looking at you, the way his gaze kept drifting to your lips, the way he leaned in just a little too close — it was clear he no longer saw you as just his friend's little girl. No, the heat in his eyes told you he very much saw you as a woman now. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. 

"Maybe I'm just picky."

"Oh, really?" Satoru moved closer, until he stood beside you, his hip brushing against yours, his hands resting tantalizingly close to your thigh. "And what exactly are you looking for?"

You met his gaze boldly, emboldened by the alcohol thrumming through your veins. "I don’t know. Someone older. More experienced. Someone who knows what he's doing."

"Is that so?"

You hummed in response, setting your empty glass aside. "What about you, Satoru? Where's your girlfriend tonight? Or boyfriend, I don't judge."

"No girlfriend. No boyfriend either. I guess you could say I'm married to my work."

You raised an eyebrow, tracing your finger around the rim of your glass. "Really? The great Satoru Gojo, eternally single? I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it, love," he said, setting his own glass down. His eyes, the color of a summer sky, never left yours. "I'm a busy man. Relationships take time and effort, two things I don't have in abundance."

"Sounds lonely.”

Saotru's lips quirked up at the corners. "Oh, believe me I’m far from lonely. Just unburdened by the messy attachments that come with a relationship."

"Ah. So you're a love 'em and leave 'em type, are you?"

"I prefer to think of it as knowing what I want and taking it.” He leaned in closer. You could smell the vodka on his breath, the intoxicating scent of his cologne. "No strings, no complications. Just fun."

“Why does that not surprise me.”

Satoru reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered on your cheek, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. "What can I say, love? I'm a simple man with simple needs."

Heat washed over you at his touch.

Oh god, he was definitely flirting with you.

And even worse, you were shamelessly flirting back. 

But could you really be blamed? It had been years since you'd last seen him, and time had been more than kind to Satoru Gojo. He'd always been handsome, but now, with a few more years of wisdom and experience etched into his features, he was practically irresistible.

And let's be real, you were both a little drunk. 

It was the perfect recipe for a little harmless flirting. Because that's all this was, right? 

Harmless. 

Just two adults engaging in a bit of playful banter, a bit of stolen glances and charged tension. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything.

After all, he was your dad's best friend. 

This was just the alcohol talking, just the thrill of seeing each other after so long. In the morning, you'd both laugh it off, chalk it up to a bit too much vodka and the nostalgia of reunion. 

But even as you told yourself this, you couldn't ignore the way your heart raced at his proximity, the way your skin tingled under his gaze. Blame it on the alcohol, but the truth was, you were enjoying this. 

It was exhilarating.

You scoffed, trying to regain your composure. "Oh, I'm sure your needs are anything but simple, counselor.”

"Mmm, you might be right about that. I've been told I can be quite... demanding."

"Does that line ever work on women?"

He smirked. "I can't complain. It's served me well enough so far."

Oh, he's so confident.

It made you wonder what it would take to throw him off his game.

"Is that so?” You sat up straighter, a coy smile playing about your lips. "In that case, why don't we play a little game? See if that silver tongue of yours is as clever as you think it is."

His eyebrows shot up. “What did you have in mind?"

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, just a classic. Truth or Dare. Unless of course, the great Satoru Gojo is afraid of a little challenge?"

Satoru's eyes narrowed, his smirk sharpening into something more predatory. "Oh, love. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

You leaned in closer. "Then why don't you enlighten me, counselor?"

His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a heart-stopping moment, you thought he might kiss you. But then he pulled back, his smirk widening. "Alright. You're on. But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Bring it on. I'm not afraid of you."

"Oh, we'll see about that.” He picked up the vodka bottle, refilling both your glasses with a practiced hand. He handed one to you, clinking his against it. "Ladies first. Truth or Dare?"

You took a sip of your drink, the vodka rushing pleasantly through your veins, making you bolder. "Dare."

He paused, his eyes glinting in the dim light. His gaze roamed over you with deliberate slowness, lingering on the curve of your neck, the swell of your breasts beneath the fabric of his jacket. You could practically feel the heat of his gaze, branding you.

"Take off my jacket."

"That's it? That's your big dare?"

He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm starting you off easy. Wouldn't want to scare you off too soon."

You scoffed, setting your glass down. "Please. It takes more than a little strip tease to scare me."

With deliberate slowness, you hooked your thumbs into the neckline of Satoru's overshirt, your fingers grazing the heated skin of your chest as you pulled the fabric apart. His eyes followed your every move, the blue irises darkening with each new inch of exposed skin.

You shrugged the overshirt off your shoulders, letting it pool around your elbows. The cool air of the kitchen kissed your exposed skin, causing your nipples to harden beneath the thin fabric of your dress.

"Your turn, counselor. Truth or Dare?"

"Dare," he replied without hesitation, taking a long sip of his vodka.

You leaned back on your hands, the cool marble of the countertop a welcome contrast to the warmth spreading through your body. Tilting your head, you made a show of considering your options, drawing out the suspense.

"Take off your shirt."

His eyebrows shot up. "Didn't take you for the forward type, love."

You shrugged one shoulder. "What can I say? I appreciate a good view."

"Is that so? Well then, who am I to deny a woman what she wants?"

With equally deliberate slowness, he reached for the hem of his shirt, his gaze never leaving yours as he began to lift it inch by tantalizing inch. Your breath hitched in your throat as smooth, pale skin was revealed, stretched taut over toned muscles that rippled beneath his touch.

He pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Your eyes drank him in greedily, tracing the defined ridges of his abdomen, the broad expanse of his chest, the subtle play of light and shadow on his skin.

The waistband of his pants hung low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of white curls trailing down from his navel.

God, he was gorgeous. 

All lean, hard muscle and power.

"See something you like?" He asked, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

You dragged your gaze up to his, your pulse pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the vodka. "I'm not blind. You're... easy on the eyes."

"Wow, that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Why?" you challenged, tilting your head. "You’re craving my attention, Satoru?"

“That’s a question for a truth, isn’t it? Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you said.

He tilted his head to the side as he considered you. "Did you make out with any guys at that party tonight?"

“Yes.”

“Did you fuck him?"

"Quite bold of you to ask your best friend's daughter that question.”

He shrugged, unrepentant. "What? It's a valid question. So, did you?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Almost."

"Almost?"

You held his gaze, as he watched you over the rim of his glass. "I don't know. One minute we were all over each other, and the next...I just wasn't feeling it anymore. It got boring."

Satoru threw back his head and laughed, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "You really are the bane of every university boy's existence, aren't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He grinned, his eyes dancing with amusement. "It means, love, that you're a goddamn tease. Getting them all hot and bothered, then leaving them high and dry. It's almost cruel."

You scoffed, taking another sip of your drink. "It's not my fault they couldn't keep my interest.”

"Oh, I'm sure," he replied, taking a long, slow sip from his own glass.

You watched as his throat bobbed with each swallow, your eyes tracing the strong column of his neck down to the defined hollow of his collarbone. God, even the way he drank was hot. It was infuriating.

He set his glass down, his tongue darting out to catch a stray drop of vodka on his bottom lip. Your gaze followed the movement, heat curling in your stomach.

"Alright," he drawled. "Your turn. Truth or Dare?"

You lifted your chin, holding his gaze boldly. "Dare."

"Brave choice. I like it."

He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest, the pose showcasing his lean, muscular physique. Your mouth went dry as you took in the sight of his defined biceps flexing with the movement.

"Slip those straps of your dress off your shoulders.”

"Wow, Satoru. Why not just ask me to strip the whole dress off?"

"But where's the fun in that?" he countered, a wicked grin playing about his lips. "Besides, that's a job for me."

You hesitated for a second.

A small voice in the back of your head whispered that you were treading treacherous waters, that letting things go further with Satoru was a bad idea. But the alcohol flowing through your veins and the heat in his gaze silenced your better judgment. 

It was just a bit of harmless fun, right? 

No need to overthink it or make it into something it wasn't.

Slowly, you reached for the straps of your dress, sliding them down your shoulders, one after another. The silky fabric whispered against your skin as it fell, the neckline dipping precariously low, just barely concealing your hardened nipples beneath the lace edge of your bra that peeked out.

Satoru's gaze followed the movement, his eyes darkening as more and more of your skin was revealed. His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against his biceps as he watched you, the air between you thick with tension.

You leaned forward slightly, your hands gripping the edge of the countertop, the cool marble a stark contrast to your overheated skin. You pressed your arms against your chest, pushing your cleavage together, the dress threatening to slip further with each heaving breath.

"See something you like?" you mirrored his words back to him.

Satoru huffed. He reached for his glass, bringing it to his lips and taking a long, slow sip, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, he moved to stand right before you, placing the glass beside your thighs, each of his hands coming to rest on either side of you, caging you in.

“Truth or dare.”

"Truth," Satoru said, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Getting shy on me now, counselor?”

"Oh, trust me. There's nothing shy about me. But I don't think you can handle me fully stripped."

You scoffed, even as a shiver of anticipation raced down your spine, your skin prickling with goosebumps. "Pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?"

He leaned in closer, his breath fanning across your cheek, warm and intoxicating. "With good reason, love. I've never had a complaint."

Your pulse jumped, heat pooling low in your core, your thighs clenching. This was dangerous territory, toeing the line of no return. If you weren't careful, you'd end up doing something very, very stupid.

Like finding out first-hand if Satoru's claims were true.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to his proximity, the way your nipples tightened and your breathing grew shallow. "I thought we were playing Truth or Dare, not stroking your ego."

"Oh, we are. And I believe it's your turn to ask a question."

You bit your lip. "Why do you have the daughter of your best friend undressed in the middle of the night on a random Wednesday?" 

His lips curved upward, his fingers flexing against the countertop on either side of your hips. "I don't know, maybe because she didn't get what she needed at the party."

"And what do I need?"

Satoru's eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your parted lips, lingering there for a moment before flicking back up to meet yours. 

"I think you need someone who knows how to appreciate you, love. Someone who can make you feel things those fumbling college boys never could."

"And you think you're that someone, do you?"

"Oh, I know I am. I could make you feel so good, you'd forget your own name."

Shivers ran down your spine as want battled with reason. It would be so easy to give in, to let Satoru have his wicked way with you. But the rational part of your brain knew it was a terrible idea. Still, you couldn't help but lean into him.

"That's a bold claim," you managed, your voice breathier than you would have liked. "But I'm not sure I believe you."

"No? Then how about another dare, since you're feeling so brave?"

Your stomach flipped, nerves and anticipation tangling together. "What did you have in mind?"

His smile was slow, predatory. "I dare you to let me prove it to you."

"Prove what, exactly?"

He leaned in, until his lips were a hair's breadth from yours. "That I can make you feel better than anyone else ever has."

You inhaled shakily, your fingers curling tighter around the countertop edge. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"However you want me to, love. I could use my hands, my mouth, could touch you in places no one else ever has. Make you come so hard, you can do nothing but beg for more."

A shudder ran through you at the promise in his words, your core clenching with need. You could picture it all too clearly — Satoru's hands on your body, his fingers sliding over your skin, wandering lower and lower. His mouth hot and hungry on yours, trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, lower still—

You fought back a moan, trying to maintain some semblance of composure even as your body screamed for his touch. Reaching for your glass, you took a slow, deliberate sip of the vodka, holding his gaze as the liquid burned down your throat.

"Is that so?" you said. "And what makes you think I'd ever beg for you, counselor?"

"Oh, you'll beg. I'll make sure of that. I'll tease you until you're dripping wet and aching for me, until you can't think of anything but how badly you need me inside you. And then, when you're right on the edge, when you're so desperate you can barely breathe,” He leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing yours, “that's when I'll make you beg."

"You sound pretty confident. But I'm not sure you can back up all that big talk."

Satoru pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce, hungry intensity. "Oh, I can back it up, love. And then some."

His hand slid up your thigh, his fingers skimming the sensitive skin just beneath the hem of your dress. "But the question is," he continued, his fingers tracing maddening patterns on your inner thigh, his touch light and teasing, "are you ready for me to prove it to you?"

"One dare?"

"One dare is all I need, love."

You shivered at his promise, heat rising deep in your core, your body aching for his touch. God, the things this man did to you—

But you wouldn’t give in that easily. After all, where was the fun in that?

Emboldened, you let the dress slip a bit lower, revealing more of the lacy edge of your bra. "As tempting as that sounds, counselor, I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass on that particular dare."

"Oh? And why's that?"

You shrugged one shoulder, aiming for nonchalant even as your heart raced in your chest. "Maybe I'm not ready for you to put your money where your mouth is. Maybe I want to savor the anticipation a little longer."

"Is that so? Well then, how about another truth instead? Since you seem so fond of them."

Nerves fluttered in your stomach, but you refused to back down. "Hit me."

Satoru leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, his breath hot against your skin. "Have you ever touched yourself while thinking of me?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry, your brain short-circuiting as a wave of heat washed over you. Because the truth was—

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours, a knowing glint in their azure depths. "You have, haven't you? You've laid in bed at night, your hand between your thighs, picturing me doing all sorts of things to you."

You didn't need to confirm it, he could tell by the way you trembled as his lips trailed along the line of your jaw, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake.

"Tell me, what was I doing to you?" He caressed the sensitive skin of your throat with his lips, drawing a gasp from your parted lips. "Was I kissing you? Touching you?"

"Yes," you panted, your fingers curling into his silky hair, holding him against you, all good reason vanishing into thin air.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending sparks of need skittering down your spine. "Did you come, love? Muffling those pretty moans in your pillow as you cum with my name falling from your lips?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your thighs clenching at the memory — the way you'd writhed against your sheets, your fingers stroking your slick heat, chasing the release that only thoughts of Satoru could bring you.

"Yes," you whispered. “Every single time."

His eyes darkened, his pupils blown wide, his breathing growing ragged. "Where did you imagine me touching you, love? Show me."

Heart pounding, you reached for his hand, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his warm, calloused skin. Slowly, deliberately, you guided his hand to your neck, your breath hitching as his fingers skimmed over your racing pulse.

"Here," you whispered. "I imagined your lips on my neck, your teeth grazing my skin.”

Satoru's fingers tightened on your throat, a possessive gesture that made your core clench. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over your neck, his touch feather-light, teasing. You shivered as his breath ghosted over your sensitive skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.

"Like this?" His lips traced a path of fire from your jaw to your collarbone, his teeth nipping gently at your skin. "Is this how you imagined it?"

“Yes,” you gasped, your head falling back to give him better access, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Just like that."

His tongue flicked out, tasting you, savoring you, as his lips mapped every inch of your neck, finding all the spots that made you shudder and moan.

"Where else?"

Biting your lip, you guided his hand lower, over the swell of your breasts, your nipples tightening beneath the thin fabric of your dress. "Here," you breathed, arching into his touch. "I pictured your hands cupping my breasts, your fingers teasing my nipples.”

Satoru groaned, his control slipping a notch. 

His hand curved over your breast, molding to your shape, his thumb brushing over your nipple in a maddening caress. "Fuck, you feel perfect.”

He tugged at the neckline of your dress, exposing more of your chest to his gaze. Dipping his head, he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, his tongue darting out to lick over your heated skin.

His lips trailed lower and lower until they hovered just above your nipple, his breath hot and damp against your sensitive skin. And then, he closed his lips around your nipple and sucked, hard, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

You cried out, your back arching into him, your fingers clutching at his bare shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

He caressed your breasts, licking and sucking and biting until you were writhing and whimpering. His fingers plucked at your other nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his thumb and forefinger until want coursed through your veins like molten lava.

"Keep going, love. Show me where else you want my hands."

Emboldened by his words, you slid his hand lower still, his lips still on your breasts, over your stomach, your muscles quivering beneath his touch. 

Lower, lower, until his fingers were brushing the hem of your dress, dipping beneath the fabric to skim the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You shuddered as his fingers crept higher, teasing you, tormenting you with fleeting, feather-light touches.

"Here," you gasped, your thighs parting. "I touched myself here, imagining it was your hand between my legs, your fingers buried deep inside me, filling me, making me come.”

His fingers inched higher, skimming over your damp, lace-covered sex, making your moan softly. He rubbed slow, maddening circles over your cloth clit, the friction delicious but not nearly enough.

"You're so wet," he marveled, his fingers sliding under the edge of your underwear, gliding through your slick folds with a tortuous, leisurely stroke. "So hot and ready for me. Tell me, love, is this all for me? Do you get this worked up just from the thought of my hands on you?"

You whimpered as his fingers parted your folds, running lightly along your slit, barely grazing your aching clit. He was teasing you, exploring you with a maddening, light touch that set your nerves ablaze, making you part your legs wider for him.

"Yes," you gasped, your head thumping back against the cabinets as he circled your entrance with a single finger, dipping in just to the first knuckle before retreating. "Yes, Satoru, all for you. Only for you.”

He groaned at your admission, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he fought for control. "Fuck, the things you say. You have no idea what you do to me, how badly I want to just bury myself inside you and fill you up so bad.”

But still, he held back, his fingers continuing their lazy, tortuous exploration of your slick heat. He gathered your wetness, spreading it up and over your clit, circling the swollen nub with a slippery, gliding pressure that made your thighs shake and your breath come in shallow pants.

"Satoru," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders, your hips rolling shamelessly against his hand. "Quit your games. I need more, need you inside me."

He chuckled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck with his teeth. "Patience, love," he chided, his fingers dipping back down to your entrance, swirling around the rim in mad, spiraling circles. "I want to savor this.”

He punctuated his words by pressing one long, thick finger inside you in one slow, smooth glide. Your back arched, biting your lips to swallow the scream that tore from your throat as your inner muscles clenched around his finger.

"Fuck, you feel incredible." He pumped his finger in and out of your clutching heat, curling it against your front wall. "I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my cock."

He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, filling you in a way that was maddeningly good but still not enough. He scissored his fingers inside you, stroking your slick walls, teasing your most sensitive spots until you helplessly moaned into his mouth that hovered over yours.

"Look at you," he marveled, his eyes hot and heavy on your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure that flickered across it. "So responsive, so desperate for my touch. I bet I could make you come just like this, couldn't I? Just with my fingers buried inside you, rubbing all the right spots until you soak my hand and scream my name."

"Yes, oh god, yes—more, Satoru. I need more, make me come.”

But instead of giving you what you so desperately craved, Satoru withdrew his fingers from your aching core, leaving you empty and bereft. You whimpered at the loss, your eyes flying open to meet his, a protest ready on your lips.

But the words died in your throat as you took in the wicked, hungry gleam in his gaze, the predatory curve of his lips. "Oh, I'll make you come, love. But where's the fun in doing it with just my fingers?"

Before you could even begin to process his words, he was sinking to his knees before you, his hands gripping your thighs, spreading them wide. Your dress rode up to your waist, exposing your lace-covered sex to his gaze. 

With that, he dipped his head, his breath hot against your aching skin. He pressed soft and wet kisses to your inner thighs, his lips and tongue and teeth teasing you until you were squirming and whimpering above him.

"Satoru, please," you begged, your fingers tangling in his hair, trying to guide his mouth where you needed it most. "Stop teasing. I need your mouth on me. I need you to make me come."

"What, you begging now? I thought you said you didn't beg for anyone."

“Oh shut up and go to work already.”

"So impatient," he murmured, nipping at your inner thigh with his teeth. "But I'm not done savoring you yet." With that, his mouth trailed up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your aching core with every kiss and nip and lick. 

Your breath came in shallow pants, your hips grinding subtly against his face, seeking more contact, more friction.

When he finally reached your core, he didn't dive in like you expected. Instead, he placed a soft, almost reverent kiss to your sex, his lips lingering, savoring the heat and the dampness and the scent of you. 

"Fuck, you're so perfect." 

Then his tongue darted out and licked a broad stripe up your clothed sex.

You moaned, your thighs falling open even wider, offering yourself up to him. "Please, Satoru," you whispered. "Please, stop your stupid teasing and fuck me already. Please, Satoru, please, please—"

For a moment, he didn't respond, and you thought he might continue to torment you. But then he slowly pushed your underwear aside with his finger. 

He placed soft, delicate kisses all over your sex, tracing your slit with the tip of his tongue, circling your entrance, flicking over your clit in feathery strokes that made you melt.

But it wasn't enough. You needed more. You needed him.

You arched into his face, your hands fisted in his hair, holding him against you. "More. Satoru, damn it, more, fuck me with your mouth, please, please.”

"Fuck, I love it when you beg.” With that, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, the fabric stretching taut as he began to pull them down. “I think you've earned a little reward."

His eyes never left yours, watching your reactions as he slowly undressed you. You gasped at the sudden exposure, the cool air of the kitchen kissing your heated flesh. He slid your lacy fabric down your legs, taking his time to savor the moment. 

Once they were off, he straightened up again, and leaned into you.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

You hesitated for a moment, but something in his eyes told you there was no point in refusing. You parted your lips and allowed him to stuff the underwear into your mouth. The taste of your own arousal filled your senses.

"Be quiet for me, will you? We don't want to wake Suguru after all.”

Before you could even begin to think about how wrong this all was, Satoru was between your legs again, burying his face between your thighs and under your dress.

You cried out, muffled by the fabric in your mouth, as he licked a broad, flat stripe up your slit, from your entrance to your clit, the warm, wet rasp of his tongue making you squirm. 

He did it again, and again, setting a slow but steady rhythm, his tongue parting your folds, delving deeper with each pass, until he was fucking into your entrance with his tongue.

Your back arched into him, your thighs clamping around his head, but he held you steady, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you spread open for his mouth. 

"Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.”

He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking hard, the feeling so intense it bordered on too much. He sucked your clit between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue until you were shaking.

You whimpered around the fabric in your mouth that Satoru stuffed inside you to make sure that no one in the house could hear the sinful things he was doing to you as he worked you mercilessly, his tongue dancing over your clit, flicking and swirling and lashing, driving you higher and higher with every pass.

Satoru seemed to understand your body perfectly, reading your desperation in the arch of your spine, the clench of your thighs around his head, the needy, broken sounds that escaped around the fabric in your mouth.

"You want to come, don't you, love? You need it so badly, need my mouth to push you over the edge. But I'm not sure you've earned it yet. I think you can take a little more teasing, a little more torment. What do you think?"

You shook your head frantically, tears of frustration pricking the corners of your eyes. You couldn't take any more, you were sure of it. If he didn't let you come soon, you would surely lose your goddamn mind.

He pressed a soft, almost mocking kiss to your throbbing clit. "No? You don't think you can handle it? But you've been such a good girl, taken everything I've given you so beautifully. Surely you can hold on just a little longer for me."

You let your head fall back, teeth biting into the fabric, so you would keep quiet and just endure his torture. You would do anything, anything at all, if he would just have mercy on you, if he would just give you the release you so desperately craved.

Satoru seemed to sense your surrender. "That's my girl. Just a little longer, I promise. And then I'll make you feel so good.”

He suited actions to words, his mouth descending on you again, his tongue thrusting and swirling and lashing over your clit, driving you to new heights of pleasure with every skillful stroke.

You could feel your orgasm building, ready to snap at any moment. Your thighs were shaking, your stomach clenching, your breath coming in short, sharp pants.

Without warning, he thrust two fingers into you, the sudden stretch burning. His fingers were thick, stretching you deliciously, and you could feel every ridge and callus on his skin. He began to move, thrusting his fingers in and out, hard and fast.

"Good girl, take me in, take me deep."

And then, with a final, bruising suck on your clit and a deft thrust of his fingers into your clenching heat, you felt your orgasm crashing over you, tearing a ragged, muffled scream from your throat.

You shook and shuddered and sobbed through the aftershocks, your inner muscles clamping down on Satoru's plunging fingers. He worked you through it, his mouth and hand gentling but never stopping, drawing out your pleasure until you felt you might die here and there.

"You really come easily, love. Makes me wonder what the college boys did wrong?”

You wanted to curse at him, but you could only whimper in response, your body feeling like it was made of jelly, your mind blissfully blank.

He pressed a final kiss to your clit before straightening up. Then he removed your underwear from your open mouth, allowing you to breathe properly for the first time, but not long enough for his lips to collide with yours.

And then you realized that you were kissing Satoru Gojo for the very first time in your life.

Because Satoru Gojo managed to make you come before he ever kissed you.

It was a deep, sensual kiss that stole what little breath you'd managed to regain. You could taste yourself on his tongue. Satoru moaned into your mouth, his hips grinding against yours, the hard, hot length of him pressing insistently against your thigh. 

He reached for your hand and guided it downwards, encouraging you to touch him through the fabric of his pants. Even with the barrier of clothing, you could feel the heat of his hard length pulsing beneath your palm. 

He was hard and thick, throbbing beneath your touch, and you couldn't help but wonder what he would feel like, skin against skin.

"Feel what you do to me.” He broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your neck. "Feel how hard I am for you, how much I want you, how much I need to be inside you, need to feel you squeezing my cock."

"Then do it already." Your legs fall open in invitation, your hands clutching at his belt, urging him closer. "Fuck me, Satoru."

With trembling fingers, you fumbled with the button and zipper in your haste to remove the barriers between you. His hands joined yours, his eyes locked with yours as you worked together to remove his clothes.

You couldn't help but gasp as his cock sprang free, long and thick and perfect. 

“Fuck.” 

The head was flushed and glistening, evidence of his need for you. Your mouth went dry at the sight, a fresh flood of want coursing through your veins.

"Told you I never had any complaints.”

“Oh shut up.” You reached out to wrap your fingers around his length, marveling at the way he pulsed and throbbed in your grip. He was scorching hot and rock hard, and you couldn't wait to feel him inside you, stretching you, filling you, completing you.

Slowly, teasingly, you began to stroke him from base to tip and back again, your grip firm and sure. 

He let out a low moan, his head falling back and his eyes fluttering closed as he lost himself to the feeling of your touch. His hands gripped your hips almost bruisingly, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“Is this payback now?”

"Why? Can't handle a little teasing, counselor?"

"You play a dangerous game, love. Because I will not stop until I've fucked you senseless, until I've ruined you for anyone else. You're mine now, and I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

You leaned in closer, your lips just a hairsbreadth from his, your breasts pressing against his heaving chest. "Then prove it. Ruin me for anyone else but you.”

Your hand stroked him faster, harder, your grip tightening around his throbbing length. You could feel him growing even harder in your palm, cum leaking from the tip and slicking your fingers, making the glide even smoother.

Satoru was panting now, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he fought to maintain control. “You sure you’re up to this?”

"I dare you," you breathed against his lips.

Satoru didn't hesitate for even a heartbeat. 

His hands left your hips to fist in your hair, pulling you close. His lips crashed against yours, firm and demanding, a claim and a conquest all in one.

He licked along the seam of your mouth, seeking entrance, and you granted it readily, your lips parting on a sigh of surrender. His tongue swept inside, tangling with yours. He explored every inch of your mouth, mapping the contours, savoring your unique flavor like a man starved.

He kissed you deeply, thoroughly, with a skill that left you weak and dizzy. 

Your hands roamed restlessly over his broad shoulders, his muscular back, before tightening in his hair. Your fingers played in his hair, scratching lightly over the short part at the back of his neck and tugging on the longer locks. 

Satoru seemed to really like it, groaning into your mouth and pulling you even closer. His hips rocked against yours, the thick ridge of his cock pressing insistently into you.

"Satoru, please, take me already, need you inside me."

“Can you keep quiet for me, love?”

“Yes, yes. I can be so quiet, please Satoru.”

“Good, because we’ll have a problem if you can’t.”

Satoru's hands slid down from your hips to grip your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he lifted you up from the kitchen counter like you weighed nothing. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck as he held you close, never breaking the kiss. He carried you out of the kitchen and into the living room, navigating the familiar space.

This wasn't the first time he'd been here, after all.

When he reached the couch, Satoru threw you onto the plush cushions. Before you could even catch your breath, he was on you again, his big body covering yours, pinning you to the sofa. 

He grasped your hands and forced them over your head, lacing your fingers together as he pinned you down, taking control in a way that had your breath hitch.

He started kissing and licking his way down your neck, finding all your favorite spots, the places that made you shiver and gasp, exploiting them ruthlessly. His free hand slid down your chest, over the curve of your breast, teasing your nipple. 

"Fuck, Satoru. Feels so good,” you gasped, your head falling back as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck.

"God, why didn't we do this sooner?" Satoru groaned against your skin. "Think of all the nights we could've spent together, all the time we could've spent fucking each other's brains out."

"Because you were busy being a lawyer overseas, and I was stuck in college."

"Trust me, love, I would've made it work, would've moved back here, and have you bent over the desk in my office, not giving a damn who heard. Would've driven to your college every weekend, just to bury myself in you and make you scream."

His words had you throbbing with need. You could practically feel it — the hard wood of his desk against your skin, the scratchy sheets of your dorm bed underneath you as he pounded into you.

Satoru started grinding against you, rubbing his hard cock right where you needed it most. 

"I could've sucked you off under your desk while you worked," you panted. "Wrapped my lips around your dick and swallowed you down until you couldn't think straight."

"Fuck, and I would've eaten you out in return, snuck into your room and buried my face between your thighs until you forgot your own name."

The thought alone had your core clenching desperately around nothing. You needed his skin on yours like yesterday.

Satoru must've read your mind, because suddenly he grasped the hem of your dress and yanked it up and over your head, throwing it somewhere behind the couch. You were left in only your lacy bra, your skin flushed and heated.

"You're fucking stunning.” His eyes raked over your body as if he wanted to devour you whole. Like he couldn't quite believe you were real, that you were here, that you were his. "I'm the luckiest man alive, getting to see you like this, getting to touch you like this."

He released your wrists, but you kept them obediently above your head, gripping the armrest like a lifeline. His hands roamed all over your hips and thighs, knees pushing your legs apart until you were spread wide open for him.

Satoru reached between your bodies, rubbing the tip of his dick against your dripping core. You could feel him sliding through your wetness, teasing your clit with every stroke, making you whimper and squirm with how badly you needed him inside you.

But he didn't push inside. Instead, he just rubbed himself against you, teasing your clit with every pass.

"Satoru, please," you said, trying to arch your hips, to get him to slip inside. But he held you down, his grip on your hip too strong to fight.

"Please what, love? Use your words.”

You swallowed hard, your pride warring with your desperation. But fuck it, you were too desperate to care about your pride right now. "Please fuck me. I need you inside me, need to feel you inside me. Please, please just fuck me already."

He cursed under his breath, his hips pressing against yours, the head of his cock catching on your entrance. But still, he didn't give in. 

"C'mon, you can do better than that."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the needy sounds that wanted to spill out. "Satoru, I'm fucking begging you here. I need you. Please, I'll do anything, just give me your stupid dick already."

"Fuck, the things you do to me," he gritted out, his control finally snapping. And then, with one hard, deep thrust, he was balls-deep inside you, stretching you out so good it made your eyes roll back.

You bit down hard on your lip to keep from screaming, your back arching off the couch, your nails digging into the armrest. He felt fucking huge like this, so thick and hard and perfect, hitting spots you didn't even know could feel this good.

"You're so tight." His forehead dropped to your shoulder as he tried to keep it together. "So fucking perfect. Like you were made for me." 

"Satoru," you whined breathlessly. "You're so big, fuck, I feel you everywhere."

He let out a strained chuckle. "Can't help it if those college boys you fucked before had pathetically small dicks. Guess you just needed a real man to show you what's what, huh?"

“Oh, shut up.”

Then, without warning, he slammed back in, burying himself to the root in one brutal stroke. He didn't give you a chance to adjust, didn't let you catch your breath. He simply took you, hard and fast and deep, claiming what was his.

He grabbed your legs and threw them over his elbows, spreading you even wider, opening you up completely for him before he pounded into you, his cock hitting deep with every thrust. 

When you opened your mouth to moan or scream or fucking something, he clamped his hand over it, muffling the noise. "Shh. What'd I say? Quiet, love."

You could feel his breath on your face, hot and heavy, as he fucked into you harder and faster. Your muffled cries were barely audible under his palm, making everything feel even more desperate.

You could hear skin slapping on skin, the wet noises of his cock pounding into your soaked core, the smothered gasps and whimpers spilling from your covered mouth. You could feel every inch of him as he moved inside you, the feeling almost too much to take.

Each thrust was harder than the last, his hips slamming into yours so hard it made the couch shake. He was relentless, his pace brutal, as he took you, claimed you, made you his fucking property. 

You could feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, ready to snap at any second.

Suddenly, Satoru shifted your positions, his strong hands gripping your hips as he rolled onto his back and brought you with him. You found yourself straddling his waist, your hands splayed across his bare chest for balance.

"Ride me, love. Take what you need."

You rolled your hips in a slow grind, savoring the feeling of him deep inside you. His head fell back against the pillow, quiet moans rumbling in his chest as you took him inch by inch.

Encouraged by his response, you picked up the pace, rising and falling on his hard length, taking him deeper with each downward thrust.

"That's it, love." Satoru's hands tightened on your hips, helping you keep a steady rhythm. "Ride me just like that."

One of his hands left your hip, sliding up your body to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple. You gasped at the feeling, your back arching, pushing your chest further into his touch.

Satoru's other hand slid behind his head, propping himself up a bit so he could watch you better. "Fuck, you look so hot like this. My perfect girl.”

You braced your hands on his sweat-slicked chest for leverage, your nails digging into his skin. His hips started to rise to meet your downward thrusts, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every pass. 

"Fuck, just like that. You feel so good. So tight and perfect around me. You're gonna make me come so fucking hard.”

"Satoru," you panted, your head falling back, your spine arching as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core. "I'm close. I’m so close—"

But just as you were about to come, Satoru suddenly sat up, his arms wrapping around your waist, his chest pressing against yours. The change in position drove him even deeper, making you cry out and your nails raking down his back.

His mouth found your neck, sucking and biting, leaving hickeys you'd definitely have to cover up tomorrow.

"God, you’re doing so good."

You could tell Satoru was right on the edge with you, his groans turning harsh and throaty, his fingers digging bruisingly into your hips, his movements growing erratic and desperate beneath you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he warned, his voice strained and breathless. "You're gonna make me fucking come.”

With that, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his hands gripping your hips as he yanked you up onto your hands and knees. He pushed your legs apart with his knees, settling behind you.

You could feel the hot, hard length of him pressing against you before slowly, inch by torturous inch, Satoru pushed forward, sinking into you until he was buried to the hilt. He started to move then, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a punishing pace that had the couch shaking and creaking beneath you.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he railed you from behind, hitting even deeper than before.

"Satoru," you gasped, your hands fisting in the cushions, your back arching as he pounded against your cervix again and again. "Oh fuck, yes. Just like that. Don't stop."

His hand slid up your spine to fist in your hair, yanking your head back and bending your spine into a deeper arch. You cried out at the sudden stretch, the change in angle making him hit new spots inside you.

Before you could even catch your breath, he pushed your face down into the couch cushions.

"What'd I say? You gotta keep quiet or I'm gonna have to shut you up myself.”

A shiver raced down your spine at his words, his grip on your hair in the back of your head keeping you pinned in place. You could only moan into the plush cushion beneath you, slowly soaking it with your spit as you whimpered and panted with each deep, brutal thrust.

Satoru's thrusts grew harder, faster, more erratic as he chased his release. His hand in your hair tightened, the sting pushing you closer and closer to the edge. 

Satoru suddenly wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up against his chest, changing the angle yet again.

His thrusts slowed, becoming deep and deliberate. He held you close, one arm around your waist, the other hand splayed across your throat, keeping your head tilted back against his shoulder.

"Tell me, did those frat boys ever make you feel this good?" he panted in your ear, his hips rolling into yours in a slow grind. "Did they ever take the time to fuck you the way you deserve?"

You whimpered, your inner muscles tensing around his thick length as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "No." Your hands came up to grip his forearm, your nails digging into his skin. "Never like this. They never fucked me half as good as you do."

He hummed, his teeth grazing the side of your neck. "That's a damn shame," he mused, his hips keeping up that slow, deep rhythm that drove you mad. "'Cause you deserve to be fucked right."

As if to prove his point, he thrust into you even deeper. You cried out, your back arching, your nails leaving crescent moons on his arm. His arm tightened around your waist, the other hand reached up. His fingers brushed over your parted lips, feeling the panting breaths escaping you.

"Open up," he commanded.

Obediently, you parted your lips, letting him slip two fingers into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around them, sucking gently, tasting the salt of his skin.

"Fuck, love. Your mouth feels so good.”

You moaned around his fingers as they thrust shallowly in and out of your mouth. His hips picked up speed, slamming into you harder, faster, spurred on by the muffled sounds you were making.

He pushed his fingers deeper, until they brushed the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, your eyes watering, moaning around each thrust.

"Good girl," he praised, his thumb stroking your cheek, "taking my fingers so well, just like you take my cock."

Satoru's hips were pounding into you faster again. His arm around your waist held you steady as he thrust into you, hitting that spot inside you over and over until your eyes rolled back.

Then, his hand slipped between your thighs to find your aching clit. He rubbed the sensitive nub in tight, deliberate circles, the calluses on his fingertips creating the most maddening friction.

Suddenly, Satoru pushed you forward, your face shoving into the couch cushions again. He draped his body over yours, pressing you deeper into the plush fabric, his muscular arm stretching above your head to keep your head down, his hot breath panting against the nape of your neck.

"Gonna come," he gritted out, his hips moving faster, harder. "Fuck, I'm gonna come so fucking hard."

You could only whine in response, the sounds muffled against the cushion your face was pressed into. Above you, Satoru let out a string of curses, his hips stuttering and jerking erratically against your ass as his orgasm hit him. 

He buried himself balls-deep inside you, grinding against your cervix as he pumped you full of his hot, thick cum.

"Fuck, fuck, you feel so fucking good," he babbled, his voice low and tight as he rode out his orgasm. "You take me so fucking good."

He shook and shuddered and cursed as he tried to catch his breath, his sweaty forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. 

Slowly, he straightened up, your hips still raised in the air, and released his grip on your head, allowing you to turn your face to the side and suck in a desperate lungful of air.

But he didn't pull out. Instead, he started thrusting shallowly into your oversensitive core, his softening cock sliding through the sloppy mess he'd made of you. The wet, filthy sounds of it made your face flame, made your core clench weakly around him.

Then, to your shock, he pulled out completely, making you both wince at the sensitivity. But before you could ask what he was doing, you felt his fingers between your legs, spreading your swollen lips apart.

"Fuck, look at that. You’re so perfect. Prettiest cunt I've ever seen."

You whimpered as you felt his cum start to leak out of you, dripping down your thighs and onto the sofa — the family sofa to be exact. But Satoru didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed fucking pleased by it.

Then, you felt his tongue on you, lapping at your used sex. 

He groaned as he tasted your combined arousal, the vibrations making you clench and shiver. His tongue dipped inside you, scooping out his own cum before licking a broad stripe up to your clit.

You gasped, your hand flying down to clamp over your mouth, stifling the desperate moan that wanted to escape.

"One more, love. One more for me. I wanna taste you coming on my tongue, wanna feel you come all over my face."

With that, his mouth sealed over your clit, as he started to suck in hard, rhythmic pulls, you knew you were done for. Your exhausted body had no defense against his ruthless onslaught, his tongue pushing you to the brink with embarrassing speed.

Your thighs started to shake, your abs quivering as the tension built and built, your core clenching around his tongue. Desperate moans spilled from your lips, muffled behind your hand as you tried to stay quiet. 

But fuck, it was hard when he was eating you out like a starving man at his last meal.

"That's it, that's my girl," Satoru encouraged between licks and sucks, his stubble rasping against your inner thighs. "Gonna make you feel so good, love. Ruin you for all other fucking men.”

It was too much, too intense, too fucking good. 

With a sharp cry that teetered on a scream, you shattered apart. Satoru fucked you through it with his tongue, drawing out your orgasm until you were boneless and shaking.

Finally, finally, he relented, pressing a few soft kisses to your twitching core before crawling up your body and collapsing next to you on the couch. 

He gathered you close, smiling at your weak grumbles of protest as he manhandled you into the position he wanted — tucked against his chest, your face pressed into his sweat-damp neck.

"You're perfect, you know that? Like you were made just for me."

His hand drifted up and down your back in soothing strokes, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin. The gentle touch made you sigh, your body sinking even deeper into his embrace.

For a long moment, you just laid there in comfortable silence, basking in the bone-deep satisfaction of being so thoroughly fucked by the man you at least expected to ever fuck in your life.

"You know, Suguru's gonna kill me when he finds out about this."

You sighed against his throat, your fingers absently tracing the defined ridges of his abs. "Mm, probably. He made you promise to keep your hands off me, after all.”

"Wait, you knew about that?"

"Mhmm, he mentioned it once. To be fair, he was pretty drunk at the time."

Satoru huffed, his hand drifting lower to palm the curve of your ass. "Guess I fucked that one up, huh?" he drawled, not sounding the least bit sorry. 

"In more ways than one." You shifted in his arms, propping yourself up on your elbow to look down at him, your other hand coming up to stroke his stubbled jaw. "But seriously, this can't happen again, you know that right?"

Satoru leaned into your touch, his eyes drifting shut for a moment as he savored the feel of your fingers on his skin. "Yeah, I know. We just got a little carried away, that's all. Blame it on the alcohol."

You grinned, tracing the curve of his lower lip with your thumb. "Mhmm. I mean, don't get me wrong, it was—"

His eyes opened, fixing you with a heated look that sent a shiver down your spine. "Fucking good?"

"Yeah" Your hand slid down to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Real fuckking good. But still, we can't do this again."

Satoru's hand continued to run over your ass, his touch sending heat through your body even as you spoke of ending this. "Definitely can't happen again. It would be a mistake."

You nodded, even as you arched into his touch. "A big mistake. Dad would kill us both if he found out."

"He would," Satoru murmured, his other hand sliding up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. "And I value my life too much to risk it. Even if the temptation is—"

His gaze raked over you, hot and hungry.

"Hard to resist?" you finished for him.

"Impossible to resist," he corrected, his hand cupping your breast now, his thumb grazing over your nipple. "But we have to. This can't be more than a one-time thing."

You bit your lip, stifling a moan at his touch. "Right. One fun night, and then we go back to normal. Like it never happened."

"Exactly." But even as he said it, he was pulling you closer, his hips coming up to meet yours, his length, already hard again, pressing against your core.

You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut. "Satoru—"

"One more time," he breathed, his lips brushing your ear. "One more time, and then we'll stop. We'll be good."

You knew you should say no, should put an end to this before it went any further. But god, the feel of him against you, inside you — it was addictive. You craved it, craved him, like nothing you'd ever known.

"One more time. And then never again."

"Never again," he echoed as he rolled you beneath him. His body covered yours, his mouth claiming your lips in a searing kiss before he buried himself deep inside you once more.

Little did you know, it wouldn't be the last "one more time" of the night. 

Or the morning. 

In fact, you lost count of how many times you and Satoru broke your "never again" promise before the sun finally rose.

Each time you thought you were finished, that you'd finally satisfied the hunger, one touch, one kiss, one whispered word would reignite the flames and you'd find yourself tangled up in him all over again.

Satoru was just that good. And you were just that far gone for him.

Heaven help you both.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Next day you woke up with a serious hangover.

No surprise there.

You stumbled down the stairs, your head pounding and your stomach churning with the aftereffects of last night's alcohol. And, let's be real, the aftereffects of Satoru's very thorough attentions too.

The memories of what you'd done, of how completely he'd wrecked you, made heat rush to your cheeks even as a pleasant soreness throbbed between your legs. God, you could still feel the ghost of his hands on your skin, his mouth on your—

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

Your dad's amused voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You blinked, focusing bleary eyes on where he sat at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and the morning paper in the other.

"Morning, Dad," you croaked, wincing at how wrecked your voice sounded.

He raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"

You flushed, praying he'd think it was just the hangover and not the vivid flashbacks of Satoru pounding you into the couch. "Uh, yeah. Guess I partied a little too hard."

"I'll say." Your dad folded the paper and set it aside, standing up to grab a plate from the counter. "Made you some breakfast. Greasy eggs and bacon, perfect hangover cure. Eat up, then you can go sleep it off before your big tennis match later."

Right. Tennis. 

You'd almost forgotten about the match in the wake of last night's activities. The idea of running around a court in the blazing sun made your head throb even harder.

"Thanks, Dad," you said, mustering up a smile as he set the plate in front of you. "You're the best."

"Mm-hmm. And don't you forget it." Your dad settled back into his chair, sipping his coffee as he watched you dig into your breakfast. "So, you ready for your big match today? Coach says you've got a real shot at taking the title this year."

You swallowed your mouthful of eggs, trying to muster some enthusiasm despite your pounding head and sore thighs. "Yeah, I'm feeling pretty good about it. I mean, assuming I can get through the match without puking on the court."

"If you can party, you can play. No excuses."

"Wow, so inspirational. You should be a motivational speaker."

Your dad snorted. "I'm just here to keep you in line."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't quite suppress a smile. Your dad could be a real hardass sometimes, but he had a great sense of humor and a surprisingly laid-back attitude when it came to your occasional youthful indiscretions.

Perks of having a young, cool dad, you guessed.

"If I win today, maybe I should make this a pregame ritual," you said dryly, taking another bite of your breakfast. "Tequila shots and a good fu—" you caught yourself just in time, "fun. A fun night before every match."

"Good luck getting that one past your coach." Your dad shook his head, laughing. Then his gaze sharpened, his brow furrowing slightly as he leaned forward to get a better look at you.

"Hey, what's that on your neck? Looks like a bruise or something. Did you get hurt last night?"

Your hand flew to your throat, your fingers pressing against the tender spots you knew were littered with Satoru's marks. Shit, you'd completely forgotten about the hickies in your hungover daze. You probably still smelled like sex and Satoru's cologne too, since you hadn't had a chance to shower yet.

Satoru was probably going to be insufferably smug about marking you up like this.

Bastard.

"Oh, uh, it's nothing. I must've just... bumped into something. You know how clumsy I get when I'm drunk."

Your dad's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as he studied your neck more intently. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought he might call you on your obvious lie, might put two and two together and realize just what — or who — had left those marks on your skin.

But then he just shrugged, leaning back in his chair and taking another sip of his coffee. "Huh. Well, be more careful next time, yeah? Don't want you getting hurt."

You let out a subtle sigh of relief, your hand dropping from your neck. "Yeah, of course. I'll be more careful, promise."

"Good." Your dad nodded, seeming satisfied with your answer. "Oh, by the way, I invited Satoru to come watch your match today. Figured he could use a break from all those long hours at the office."

You choked on your bacon, your eyes going wide as you sputtered and coughed. "You—you what?"

"Invited Satoru. To your match," your dad repeated, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "He's always been so supportive of your tennis career, you know? Thought it'd be cool for him to see you play in such a big match.”

Cool. Right. 

More like hell, considering the man had spent half the night with his head between your thighs and the other half fucking your brains out.

The thought of facing him now, in broad daylight, with your father right there beside him — it made your stomach churn even harder than the hangover did.

"Oh. That's... great," you managed to croak out, your smile so strained it probably looked more like a grimace. "Thanks, Dad. That was really... thoughtful of you."

"Wasn't it?" He grinned, looking pleased with himself. "I knew you'd be happy to have another friendly face in the crowd, cheering you on."

Friendly face. 

Jesus Christ. 

If your dad had any idea just how friendly Satoru's face had gotten with certain parts of your anatomy last night—

You shuddered, trying to shove aside the vivid flashbacks that kept flooding your mind. Now was so not the time to be thinking about Satoru's tongue or his long fingers or his huge, perfect cock—

Fuck. You were so screwed. In every sense of the word.

How the hell were you supposed to focus on your match, on winning the title, when all you could think about was Satoru's hands on your skin, his breath in your ear, his body moving over and in and around yours?

How were you supposed to look him in the eye, knowing what you'd done, what you'd let him do, how completely you'd surrendered to him in every possible way?

And how were you supposed to do it all with your dad right there, oblivious to the secret brewing between his daughter and his best friend?

You didn't know. You had no fucking clue. 

All you knew was that this match, this day, this whole goddamn situation was shaping up to be one of the most awkward, uncomfortable, excruciatingly tense experiences of your life.

And considering you once drunkenly hit on your TA in front of your whole class, that was really saying something.

But what choice did you have? 

You couldn't exactly tell your dad that Satoru couldn't come, that having him there would be way too distracting. Not without raising all sorts of questions.

You were just going to have to suck it up and act like last night never happened, like it hadn't changed every fucking thing between you and Satoru.

Easy, right?

God, you were so fucked.

next chapter ->

author's note: hii friends !! hope u enjoyed this silly little first chapter of my new series & it didn't come across as creepy, and if it did, just ignore it. it wasn't meant that way, of course.

anywayy, it will have three chapters in total and will be mostly smut, not gonna lie, but i really had fun writing it bc it's just pure tension, teasing and stupid conversations that i love to write haha. and also a ridiculously older satoru and a bold reader ?? i think that's my thing to write haha.

anyway, thank you all so much for reading !! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and i hope this fic brings a smile to your face (or preferably other emotions) whenever you read it. stay awesome, friends, and have a fabulous day !! <33

taglist is closed !! you can subscribe to this story on ao3 to make sure you never miss an update :))

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© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[evie-sturns]

Sorry - Matt Sturniolo

summary: you and matt have been bickering the whole day, but one thing that comes out of his mouth accidentally makes you cry.

contains: arguing, crying, comforting, fluff.

---------------└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘---------------

matt and i have spent the day out together, but hes been snapping at me for the smallest things. i've just brushed it off, i decided hes just tired and needs to get home.

"ready to go matt?" i ask, squeezing his hand as i heave myself up off the chairs in the mall.

"mhm.." matt hums, shutting off his phone and sitting up.

the loud chatter from crowds of people in the shopping center echos through my ears. matt walks ahead of me, i follow close behind as he walks through the double doors out into the parking lot.

he unlocks the car before letting himself in, shutting the car door behind him. "jesus" i mutter under my breath before opeing the passenger side and jumping in.

"so what should we get for dinner tonight?" i question, breaking the painfully loud silence.

"don't know" he replies quietly, his voice monotone.

"i could make us something?" i say, tapping my fingers on my leg as matt pulls out onto the street.

"sure." he responds with a slight nod of his head.

the rest of the car ride is silent, matt grips the steering wheel with both hands, taking sharp turns towards home.

"matt..?" i ask quietly,

"mhm" he mutters back,

"are you upset with me?" i say, my voice soft as i look directly on the road ahead.

"nope" matt sighs as he pulls into our garage.

i nod silently as he opens the door of the drivers side, he slams the door shut behind him and walking into the house. he doesnt even bother letting me out of the car, let alone leave the door to the house open.

i sit in the car for about a minute in silence, trying to think about what is actually pissing matt off today

i get out of the car and walk up the concrete stairs to our house, i approach the door to matt and i's bedroom, the door handle rattles before swinging open.

matt is sitting on his desk chair, scrolling on his phone. he doesn't even look up at me as i flop down on the bed.

i grab my airpods off our bedside table, accidentally knocking matts cup of coffee which has been marinating on the table for several hours.

the mug hits the wooden floor, the porcelain shattering and coffee painting the wooden planks.

i look up at matt, "shit-"

"can you actually fucking stop?" matt says, almost disgusted by me.

"you've been so annoying all day and i'm so sick of it. stop." he continues.

he stares directly into my eyes as those words exit his mouth.

i usually wouldn't cry if anyone said this to me, but today it feels so personal. they way hes been so uninterested in me, and now he says this to my face?

my eyes water as matt maintains eye contact, my bottom lip trembles as my throat feels like its practically closing in.

a loud sob exits my mouth as tears instantly start to stream down my face, my shoulders slouched and bouncing up and down as i stand infront of matt.

"you're being mean now matt" i say in between shaky breaths.

he stands in shock in front of me for a few seconds before grabbing me and pulling me into a passionately tight hug, he holds my head as i feel his hands shake slightly as he takes deep breaths.

after a few seconds i pull away from the hug "look at me, please" matt says, his voice soft as his mouth parts slightly.

i look up at him, my face drenched in tears. he bends over and picks me up, holding me up around his waist by my thighs.

he sits down on the bed with me, i'm sitting on his lap, almost straddling him as he sits back against the headboard.

"please don't cry, i promise i didn't mean to make you cry im so sorry-" matt rambles on, panic in his voice.

"i've been a proper dickhead today i don't know whats wrong with me i am so sorry"

i nod, he takes the sides of my face in his ringed hands, "i am so, so grateful to have you. i have been so tired recently and i've only been getting three or four hours of sleep a night because of nick, chris and is schedule for the past few weeks and its taken a toll on me"

"and its not your fault, nothing is okay?" he finishes, his eyes scanning my face for a reaction.

i nod "thank you", matt takes his hand and casually wipes the snot from under my nose.

"can you please give me a smile sweetheart?" he asks, his hands finally dropping slowly from the sides of my face down to my palms.

i wipe my eyes and give matt a somewhat ugly smile, matts face lights up "there she is" he smiles "gorgeous girl."

he taps my waist "do you want a shower?" he asks, its been a 'tradition' that matt and i have a shower together mosts nights.

"yeah" i smile warmly at matt, he sits up, picking me up off his lap and carrying me into his bathroom.

he sets me down on my feet and helps me get my clothes off, he follows, his clothes in a neat pile by the door.

i turn on the shower up to a high heat, the steam fogging the room.

matt steps in, "holy shit- i know i've been an asshole but do i deserve to be scolded alive- fuck." he laughs, his eyes scrunching and his wide grin plastered on his face.

"its nice!" i joke back, matt steps in again, trying to keep a straight face. "oh my god-" he whispers with a smile as he turns down the water temperature. "matt!!" i whine, slapping him lightly with a smirk "i had to" he says, reaching for the shampoo and squeezing it into his hand.

he rubs the shampoo into my hair, a comfortable silence fills the bathroom along with the sweet smell of strawberry shampoo.

suddenly matt breaks the silence,

"for the record, i did enjoy the mall with you earlier sweetheart, and i'm sorry i ruined it for you."

"awh matt, its okay i go to the mall every 2 days anyway." i coo back at him with a cheeky smile.

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

matts smile btw in the shower heat cause i thought it was cute

[yandere-daydreams]

Black Cat!Wanderer, who you find in an alleyway behind your apartment complex, badly bruised and barely conscious. He's poorly dressed, even for a hybrid, shivering and deathly pale, but he still finds the strength to snap at you as you approach him. You have to bribe him with fish you can't afford and a blanket nicer than anything you'd buy for yourself before he lets you so much as touch him, and even then, he's quick to growl and tell you to get away from him as soon as you try to pet him. He's a temperamental kitten, but considering the state he's in, you can't say you blame him for being so defensive.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who lets himself into your apartment after a few weeks of alleyway visits and offered meals. He doesn't scratch at your door or ask to come in. You find him splayed out on your couch when you get home, muttering that it'd been too long since the last time he saw you and scowling into a clawed-up pillow. He still comes and goes as he pleases (you wouldn't try to keep a hybrid so clearly used to being on his own contained), but he spends most of his time curled up on your bed or trailing after you around the house, still pretending he'd rather be anywhere on earth other than in your lap. He says that you're just like every other human, that he only hangs around you for the food and a warm place to sleep, but the way he purrs when you scratch at his ears says otherwise.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who doesn't just visit you at home, either. He always seemed to ""coincidentally"" be passing by your office just in time to walk you home from work, and doesn't seem to consider a quick grocery run or shopping trip to be a good enough excuse to get rid of him. You're lucky he's a cat, rather than something bigger, something more difficult to pass off whenever he follows you into a cafe or bodega. He's lucky that he's so cute, or else you might call his bluff and start treating him like the housecat he won't admit he wants to be.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who doesn't know that you know he likes to cuddle up to you while you're asleep. Most of the time, he'll wait until you go to bed properly before curling up against your side, but you've found him laid out on top of you after passing out on your tiny couch, fast asleep despite his best efforts to always scurry away before you notice he's there. You never considered yourself a catperson before you met him, but god, sometimes you feel like you could spend the rest of your life fawning over your shy little alley cat.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who's been with you long enough to be hyper-aware that there are people - humans, nonetheless - you'd rather spend time with than him. He doesn't need your attention, he doesn't need you, but he's not going to lose you to a human, either - not when you're the only person he can stand to be around.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who might just be a cat but still has teeth and claws as sharp as any predator. Following the coworker you've mentioned just a few too many times home is child's play, and it only takes a few seconds to drag his claws across their throat, to dig his teeth into their jugular and shut them up before they can scream. It's just like killing a rat, something you've praised him for a thousand times, even if he still cringes when the taste of iron hits his tongue.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who spent enough time as a stray to know the best places to put something he doesn't want anyone else to find. The body is dropped into a gutter with a loose grate, the blood washed off of his face in a relatively clean drainage canal. He's home by sunrise, and he can't control the way his chest rumbles as he slots himself against your side - happier than he's ever been before.

Black Cat!Wanderer, who'd do anything to make himself the center of your little world.

[kaciidubs]

Catnip and Kidnappings

Hi, 🧿 nonnie! This one's been a long time coming, and though it doesn't have much smut, I hope you still enjoy it! ❣ Summary: You just needed to go to the pet store for two things - so why were you suddenly in a car with a man you didn't know? ❣  ❣ Word Count: 2.5k+ ❣ Warnings: Mafia! AU, fluff, meet cute, implied danger, slight humor, cat talk, reader is a bit sassy but so is Minho ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Two things. You just needed two things from the pet store, then you would be back home with your lovely tabby cat and show you’d been putting off for the better half of two weeks because it just ‘wasn’t the right time’.

So how, you ask, did you manage to find yourself hurriedly escorted away from the storefront of the pet store by a man you’d just met?

Well, you could target the beginning of the end the moment you stepped foot into the pet store, making your way to the cat aisle on instinct with your goal clear in your mind; catnip and premium cat food.

Premium cat food - you wished you could trick your furry child into eating a cheaper form of food, but his picky eater tendencies had set him in his ways ever since your mother decided to spoil him and introduce him to the world of Sheba pate and cuts of various meat and fish flavors; the same woman who claimed she didn’t like cats, yet bought him almost all of his toys.

Huffing out a quiet laugh at her change of heart, you bent to grab a box of the food packs, silently thanking the corporate gods that it was still on sale, before heading deeper into the aisle to grab the second item on your mental list.

You scanned the rack with the box still in your arms, adjusting it slightly every now and then until your eyes landed on the empty spot that usually had the brand of catnip you needed.

“Wonderful…”

“If you’re looking for catnip like that brand, you could go with the one with the red label - they look different because of the companies, but they’re really the same ingredient wise.”

“Oh, really? Thank-” The next word immediately died on your tongue as you turned your head, ready to thank a store worker but, instead, you were met with possibly the handsomest man you’d ever laid your eyes on.

Sharp eyes and a nose that looked like it belonged on a marble sculpture, paired with lips set in a faint frown and the prettiest jawline you’ve ever seen - he was gorgeous.

He seemed to either not notice your brain freeze or blissfully ignore it as he stepped closer to pick up the container before placing it on top of the cat food box in your arms.

“I have three cats and they all like both brands, there isn’t really a difference besides the fact that you don’t have to use as much of this one as the other one, which makes it better considering the price.”

Once his eyes finally met yours, you felt your brain kick back into gear, “O-Oh, okay, thank you so much!”

He hummed out a small sound of acknowledgement, giving you a curt nod and reaching forward to grab a container of his own; his eyes scanning across the small printed words for a moment before he looked to you once more. “Do you need help? Carrying that, I mean.”

“This? No, no, I’ve got it handled.” You adjusted the box once more, the catnip container sliding to the right until you balanced it out quickly, “All good, thanks again, though.”

Before you could embarrass yourself more than you already had, you thanked him once more and shuffled past him and out of the small aisle in record time, mentally cursing whatever line of fate led you down this path.

Placing your items on the conveyor belt, the cashier greeted you as they scanned your items and you typed in your rewards card onto the card reader’s keypad.

“Are you getting this, too?”

“What?” Looking up, you stared at the catnip in their hand with confusion creasing your brow.

“Um-”

“Yes, we are.”

The familiar voice made a chill run down your spine, your head whipping to see the same man from before, the faintest of curves to his otherwise neutral expression alleviating his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Shrugging lightly, the cashier proceeded to scan the second container before announcing the total.

Pressing his black card to the one-tap reader, he seamlessly slid it back into his wallet before stuffing it back into his pocket, “Think of it as a little gift for your cat, they deserve to be treated.”

For being stunned for the second time that day, your recovery was just as fast, “I’ll make sure to let him know a kind stranger cares about his picky habits.”

He huffed out a quiet chuckle, but that was more than enough to inflate your ego and make your heart flutter, quickly taking back your previous curse to thank fate instead.

After grabbing your bag of items, you made your way out of the store with your new companion following suit.

“So… Was that really just a gift for my cat? You don’t have any ulterior motives, do you?” You mused, turning to look at him fully as you stood outside of the storefront.

Shaking his head, he raised his hands in defense, “It’s just a gift - like I said, I have three cats so I know how it can get, better than most. Besides, the picky eater phase is really rough on the pockets at the worst of times.”

“Well, Miso appreciates your generosity.”

“Miso… cute.” He hummed softly, though his true excitement was evident in the small glimmer in his eyes.

“Do I have the honor of knowing your name?” Clocking the possible unintended implication of the question, you quickly backtracked, “Um- Just so Miso knows who he can thank while eating his pate salmon, of course.”

His lips parted to speak but closed twice as fast, his once relaxed smile turning into a firm line as he looked at you - almost enough to look through you, or rather, past you.

As you went to turn your head to gauge for yourself, you were stopped by the warmth of his hand around your wrist, winning your attention for himself like jingling keys in front of a baby.

“Let me bring you home, and I’ll tell you on the way.”

You felt your heart flutter, though you couldn’t ignore the unease creeping up your spine, “I appreciate it, but you really don’t have to-”

“I just want to make sure you make it home safely.” His mouth pressed into a tight lipped smile and his grip tightened ever so slightly, “Trust me.”

Maybe it was the fact that he sounded so sincere, aligning with the image of the kind man you’d seen in the pet shop, or perhaps it was the way his firm gaze flickered with a hint of urgency, but you found yourself nodding softly.

“Okay.”

With that, you were tugged down the sidewalk and around the corner, hurried footsteps falling alongside his long strides in hopes of keeping up.

“Is- Is there something wrong? What’s happening?”

“Everything’s fine.”

You bristled at his nonchalant, clipped tone, falling back on your pace by half a step. “I have a feeling you weren’t lying to me before, so, please, don’t start lying to me now.”

Feeling your resistance, he took a short breath and spoke, “Nothing’s wrong yet, and nothing is happening - I’d rather keep it that way, if you don’t mind.”

“But what did you see?”

“Someone who has no business trying to approach me in public unless they’re looking to start something they have no chance of finishing. I have no desire in getting innocent people caught up in those types of affairs.”

“Those types?” Your eyes widened as you neared a black car - slim, sleek, and a model that you had no chance of owning for yourself on your current pay grade. “Are you-”

“I’m no one.” He shut you down with ease before reaching forward to open the passenger’s side door, “Get in.”

Putting a temporary pin in your conversation, you quickly slid into the car, the faint scent of jasmine mixing with the musk of sandalwood and leather seats filling your nose; watching through the windshield as the black haired man rounded the car before sliding into the driver's seat.

“I don’t think a nobody just casually owns a car like this,” clicking your seatbelt into place and setting your bag on the floor, you shot him a wary glance, “if you’re going to kidnap me, Miso’s going to be royally pissed.”

The car’s engine roared to life, masking his light chuckle but doing next to nothing in hiding the slight uptick of his lips. “I’m not a kidnapper, though I’ll make an exception if Miso’s as cute as you make him out to be.”

With that, he shifted the gear and drove out of the parking lot, using the one-way street to get away from the pet store and the unknown assailant. Buildings and cars passed by in a blur after you told him your address, your hands nonchalantly turning your phone while the silence was placated with the sound of the engine and the radio - though, you had no hope of hearing what the song was from how low the volume was.

Taking a deep breath, you turned toward him, eyes tracing over his unfairly handsome side profile. “So… Is this the part where you tell me who you are?”

“I told you, I’m no one,” he hummed simply, eyes trained on the road ahead.

“And I told you I don’t like liars - you still owe me your name, you remember that, right? Now, since you’re saving me from some unknown evil, you owe me a full introduction.”

He glanced over at you, amused astonishment filling his face, “For someone who’s in the hands of a complete stranger, you make a lot of demands.”

“Think of it as your atonement for giving me two new life experiences in one when I was minding my own business buying catnip.”

You could just barely catch him rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath and hearing the words ‘worse’ and ‘friends’.

“Minho.”

“Minho?”

Minho rocked his head to the side, huffing, “My name is Lee Minho, I have three cats - Soonie, Doongie, and Dori - and I’m a businessman. I like going to that pet store because they donate some of their profit to shelters, and I know about the catnip brands because I have three cats - changing brands is a nightmare whether it’s one cat or several.”

A small smile found its way to your lips at the new information, your mind running wild at the image of this enigma of a man playing with three cats of his own. “Okay… But, when you say businessman, what type of business do you do?”

“The type that prefers to go unmentioned to civilians for their safety.”

“What- Like working for some secret branch of the government? Are you a cult leader? A member of the mafia?” An incredulous giggle bubbled past your lips, though when his demeanor grew colder, your stomach dropped. “You’re… You’re not, right?”

“What’s your name?”

“What?”

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, granting him the grace to look at you, brown eyes locking to yours with a firm stare. “You never told me your name. If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my job - it’s your repentance for asking me more questions past my introduction. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t, but I won’t tell you my job.”

Your name for his profession, your safety in exchange for his safety - it was only fair, truly.

Taking a deep breath, your name fell from your lips with a small air of confidence, “You already know about my cat, and my job pays just enough to support his picky eating habits. I like that pet store because they hosted an adoption event that brought Miso into my life, and I’ve been supporting them ever since.”

He made a sound of confirmation before turning his attention back to the road, pressing the gas as the light turned green and continued the journey to your apartment.

His choice of silence was almost enough to have your conscience second guessing your decision, until you noted the way his fingers drummed against the steering wheel; twitching, anxious, compared to the streamlined, firm grip he’d showcased at the beginning of the drive.

Eventually your apartment building came into view, the car slowing to a stop once he reached the front door.

“Well…” Lingering for a moment longer, you looked at him in hopes of seeing him turn to you one final time to honor his end of the agreement, but when he remained staring at the road ahead, you let it go. “I guess this is goodbye - thank you for what you’ve done for me, Lee Minho, I appreciate it.”

As you went to unbuckle your seatbelt, his hand wrapped around your wrist, his touch sending a chill down your spine and stealing your attention just like he did outside of the pet shop.

“I’m part of the mafia,” Minho spoke plainly, his tone emotionless, statement oriented, “the person I saw earlier was someone we’ve done business with before, some low life’s henchman most likely sent to get even, that’s why I wanted to get away like I did. I didn’t want our chance encounter to end with you getting hurt - you did nothing wrong, and I wanted to make sure you would be safe.”

The mafia… You weren’t sure if him being a cult leader would’ve been better or worse than this, but staring into his eyes, you could feel it wasn’t a joke, nor an elaborate cover up.

“What I said before, about not mentioning what I do for the safety of others… I swear to you that you’ll be safe after this - I’ll make it my personal job of making sure nothing happens to you because of this, okay? No lingering ties or deals to be made, you’ll be under our watch until we take care of that stunt they tried to pull.”

His promise eased the first stretch of fear growing within you, though the rest would have to be handled once you had the proper time to process your less than normal morning.

Nodding, you slipped your wrist from his grasp and grabbed your bag, turning to get out of the car until you froze.

“If you’re worried, you don’t have to-”

You leaned across the center console and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, a sign of gratitude, “Thank you, Minho.”

Reaching into your bag, you placed his container of catnip in his hand then quickly left the car - making your way up the flight of stairs to the lobby’s doors,only to turn around to see him patiently waiting for your entrance before slipping your way past the glass doors.

On the elevator ride up to your apartment, you couldn’t help it as your thoughts ran through the events like a film reel, though you weren’t sure if it was to get over the shock of reality, or to commit the image of that man to your memory.

Lee Minho, cat owner and catnip expert.

Lee Minho, morally gray mafia member.

Lee Minho, a man you hoped you would see in the pet store again.

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