#still technically even though its so late!
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tellyouily · 3 days ago
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you can hear it in the silence
dnf - tooth-rotting fluff - 886 words
aka. the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed :)
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Lately, they’ve taken to sleeping in George’s room.
Which makes no sense, really, considering Dream’s bed is bigger, softer and the room itself closer to the main part of the house. Not to mention that his AC actually works like it’s supposed to and his curtains actually close all the way.
All of this, and they have still ended up under George’s covers every night for the last couple of weeks.
Like with most things these days, they can blame it on work.
George’s office is where most of the coding happens, because he is the one doing most of the coding, and it is conveniently located right next to his bedroom. So when Dream comes in at night, so tired he could fall asleep standing up, to pull George with him to bed, then well, it’s whatever bed is closest.
Not that Dream minds. He likes George’s room, even if it’s bare and boring. He also likes George, and sleeping next to him, and maybe those two facts outweigh everything else. Just maybe.
George who is all soft limbs and no sharp edges, and smells like home and is somehow always warmer than Dream is.
The truth is that he is the only person Dream can share a bed with and actually sleep better because of it. Whose breathing and tossing and turning lulls him to sleep rather than annoy him.
So yeah, Dream is fine with anywhere, any bed, so long as it’s the two of them in it together.
It is an early morning in the third week that the room thing becomes an issue.
The sound of birds chirping is usually pleasant… except when it’s the sound that wakes you up. Before sunrise. Slowly, Dream gets pulled from the comfortable depths of sleep, his face buried halfway in George’s hair.
Some quick deduction tells him that the birds are most likely sitting in the tree right outside of the window, and that there is nothing he can do to fix it. Great.
George stirs in his arms. “Can they shut up?” He mumbles.
A smile makes its way onto Dream’s lips, despite his weariness.
“No,” he answers helpfully.
Somehow, each little tweet seems to be getting louder, more incessant, and Dream knows they need to move to a different room. They have slept a handful of hours at most.
“My room?” He offers, pressing a kiss to George’s shoulder. “Should be more quiet.”
George groans, rolling over and burrowing his face in the crook of Dream’s neck. It makes his skin buzz gently when George says, “Too far.”
It’s really not far at all but he decides not to go down that road now. They can talk technicalities about  the distances in this house when the day starts for real, not when the need for sleep is weighing so heavily on them both. On George especially, apparently.
Dream noses at his hair. “My office then. It’s closer.”
No response, but he feels George’s hand slide up his chest over his t-shirt.
“Come on, baby,” Dream coaxes, taking the hand and lifting it off of him as he starts to sit up.
George groans, but starts to do the same. At about half the pace. Dream smiles at him fondly.
You would think he was being forced to do the most laborious task on planet earth with how much effort it seems to take him to move from lying down in the comfy bed to standing upright on the floor. Dream can’t really blame him, though; it felt a little bit like being ripped from a nice dream for him, too.
“Alright, I love you, let’s go,” he says, heading for the door and pulling George along behind him by the hand. He looks tousled in the best way, all sleepy and annoyed.
The hallway and the stairs are mostly dark, still. The light is that weird shade of grayish blue, and he wonders fleetingly if George sees it the same way.
Downstairs, George lets out a small scoff. “Why’d you say I love you?” He asks, rubbing at his eye with his free hand. “So dumb.”
Dream smiles, pushing at his office door. “‘Cause I love you.”
George scoffs again, but he doesn’t say anything else, which says enough in itself. Inside, it’s pitch black, and quiet. Completely quiet.
He lets go of George’s hand and puts a hand on his back instead, guiding him onto the bed before climbing in after him. He has never been more grateful that he keeps this bed fully made.
They settle down in the exact same position from before, with Dream closest to the wall and George in his arms, pressed as close as he can get. For a few moments it’s just their breathing and their heartbeats slowing in the silence.
“Better?” Dream asks, his voice a murmur.
George hums in agreement. Then, just a softly, “Love you.”
Dream smiles into the darkness, closing his eyes. He listens to George’s breaths evening out, the soft sounds of skin against fabric every time they shift in the sheets they’re sharing. Holding him close like this, just existing in the boyish and familiar smell of his shampoo and day-old aftershave, Dream feels like he is already dreaming.
Sleep washes over him like a ray of sunlight.
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mono-dot-jpeg · 1 day ago
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your strongest potions, shopkeeper! - blue lock
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summary; in which you (the reader, not y/n) learn of the tales of rafta
genre/extra tags; scenarios?, heavily inspired by potionomics (great game), characters as potionomics characters, fluff, comedy, modern fantasy au (technically), lots of potionomics references and fantasy talk, y/n a little stupid but it's fine.
a/n; hi, i've been playing potionomics nonstop lately and it's been on my mind and I already miss my silly baptiste. he's so babygirl. and naturally, why not smush my current interests together now since I got the idea in my mind already. i wont be discussing all the characters in the game and matching them with bllk boys unfortunately as im having a hard time wondering who would be who. tbh, a lot of them could probably apply to one character KHDJDKDJ
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the ingredient merchant is a teasing one. he's dry, calculating, and more than willing to add fuel to a fire during a heated conversation. but he would never do that with you. but he does live to tease you with his dry remarks and his smug grin. but he's the one who helps supply your potion ingredients, though. you don’t really know how... but you decide not to question it.
karasu tabito is a clairvoyant. he has his large all-seeing orb, which he's told you that it's how he finds all his connections to get all these ingredients. and then he's got his little chest mimic. maybe not that little.. it's bigger than a chair. and he can sit on it like a large ottoman.
he's kind of mysterious despite being one of your first friends you've made in rafta. he doesn't talk a lot of his past, and he appreciates that you don't press hard about it.
he's probably been by your side since the start, watching your growth to defeat the competition in the potion-making industry.
you fell for him first, but he totally fell harder.
"you know i've been getting a lot of visions of a person lately. from my orb." he started. "i see your...stupid face in them." he looks away from you, the large brim of his warlock hat covering the subtle blush on his cheeks. he curls in on himself slightly, resting against his floating all-seeing orb. "you.. see me? wait, does that mean i'm gonna die soon?!" you panic, flinching back at the possible implications of him seeing you in his visions. "god, you're such an idiot. i mean, yeah, we all die someday, but this.. is different. it means.. that i like you." he grumbled. "so, what are you gonna do about it?" "hm.. can i kiss you then?"
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the guild master is a man of the people... despite being born with a silver spoon in his mouth. he means well. he strives to make the blue lock guild thrive! he wants to support the amazing adventurers who supply and give their recent monster loot to the potion makers who keep them alive with their adventure commissions. but it's been hard for him, really. he's been so disconnected from the normal life that he doesn't understand low class or middle-class struggles as well as most would.
mikage reo is a man who wishes to experience what most people already have. he's sick of the cushy rich life of having everything (though his mother still sends him a care package of out-of-your-budget hair care). he's a sight for sore eyes, catching plenty of attention from anyone and everyone. he's a gentleman whilst being a little.. passionate (is passionate the right word?) about his experiences and his goal to improve the guild to its rightful peak. he's also the announcer for the potion contests in rafta! he's never biased in those. i promise. (/gen)
like how he's watched you grow to be a masterwork potion maker, you've watched slowly shed free of his insecurities of the past and worrying over not being a great guild master.
he's sweet, a little eccentric, and more than an open book than he realizes. he's loyal to his goal even if the seasoned adventurers give him side eye about his past and lack of proper qualifications to handle a guild.
you fell for each other just as hard as the other.
"lately, i've been going through quite a lot as i learn how to navigate this new life. it's been stormy skies and rough seas..." he said with a sad smile, but it turns into something more softer and happier, "but you've been there for me and had so much faith in my plans." "some days i want nothing more than to go back to luxury. to relax and be free from work." he said with an annoyed frown. "luxury and riches are nice." you nodded. "but you helped me and showed me things i have never experienced." he smiled brightly. "and for that, i found myself falling for you." he pulls out a bright red rose, handing it to you. "do you want to hear the love my heart has to offer to you?" you gently take the rose with your fingertips, "i already hear it loud and clear."
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the excitable new hero that was part of the guild was a fun one! he was a hero enthusiast, wanting to become a hero himself because of it. and he made it all the way to rafta! and now he helps gather new ingredients for you, ready for any dangerous adventure. he's absolutely an excited puppy. he loves doing anything as long as it was adventurous! sometimes if he was feeling really crazy, he would try the flavor of the day in the local ice cream parlor. (he cried the day he got his least favorite flavor, mozuku)
he's been kind of hung up on wanting a trophy or large weapon. so many heroes had them, so he should get one! he has to be a great hero after all! but in your eyes, he was already rather great at what he did. he's swifter than a bee and stung like one too. he seemed to have this innate talent for fighting and being adventurous. he just didn't seem to believe it when he was surrounded by hero legends or higher ranked heroes.
he's been your most supportive customer, often visited for plenty of potions or maybe a quick large order. sometimes he gives you a discount for his commissioned work out on the field.
you didn't fall for him at least, but boy, did he fall for you hard.
"it's silly, wanting to have a trophy or weapon to show off for your success." he said softly. "but i really did want one. i wanted to show that i was a great hero, you know?" he laughed sheepishly. "you might not have found one, but you really did prove yourself along the way. you're pretty high ranked, aren't you?" "yeah, it just feels weird to not have anything to show for it.." he smiled wistfully before it melts into a softer grin. "but hearing you say that i proved myself, it makes me feel so much better!" he groaned childishly, "but still! believing in yourself is hard." "well, it's easy for me to believe in you. it's probably the easiest thing i could do." he goes quiet, looking at you with adoration before blurting out, "can i kiss you?"
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the succubus currently living in your literal hell of a basement is certainly a character. you had beat him in the potion-making competition and he outed himself as a demon. which wasn't much of a shocker to you, considering his less than savory scams he did with his potions. but even so, he was considerably skilled in charms and illusions more than potions. he just needed some cash.
but now that he's lost, he had found solace in your unfinished cave basement.. that had a whole river of lava running through?! you curse your uncle ego for having such an odd home that's left for you to handle. so, you unwillingly take in the damn demon before he runs amok ruining other poor souls. he's charming. you'll give him that much. he often sells you illusions and charms that would help your potions sell better. and he even gives you some pointers on how to charm the customers into letting their guard down for a great profit. he's been looking for a place to belong in a while, and your home seems to fit that bill as much as he hates to admit. he's rowdy, flirty, invasive, most things that you don't really want to have around (especially since he unsealed the magic barrier that was keeping you safe from the heat of the lava).
but overtime, you seem to find yourself liking the odd presence of him. or maybe he had unintentionally put a charm on you. you may never know.
you fell first, he fell right after.
"you know i really saw you as a threat to my business and all." he said. "it really wasn't love at first sight." he laughed. "but you're still you, even after all your big decisions to change. still the same wrecking ball that crashed into my shop and right into my basement." "i was petty about a lot of things for a long time. many many years probably. when my own home got destroyed. i was just surviving to the next day." he said, frowning slightly. "but i changed. i changed to find my way to you." "now, you're thriving." "i really am thriving. and now, whatever i decide to do with my life. i want you by my side." "i want that too." "then show me, dear."
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danggirlronpa · 3 months ago
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Hey, hey! If you want to do some more, maybe Toko x Komaru for the ship template?
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gonna try to knock out a few of these today! you can tell komaru is one of my favorite chars because i fiddled with toko for an hour before giving up but i knocked komaru out in less than 20 min lmao
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midnightclover · 9 months ago
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Summon Night: Swordcraft Story (ATLUS, 2003)
#my actual posts lol#haha what if i made a daily diary post thing like nico#..i was just thinking#today was a good day#and i thought of this song#ive been playing summon night swordcraft story a lot as of late.. though none today actually#its still on my mind though#i considered using dweller empty path's song flying through a stary sky instead.. but this is what i thought of first#i think it fits best to use it#i actually had to jump through some hoops to upload music!#cus my tumblr app is kinda old.. i cant properly upload music. i could only put a link#which isnt exactly ideal#so i tried in my web browser.. but maybe its cus i havent updated it in a while or maybe just cus its tor.. it didnt work#so i downloaded firefox and did it on there lol#now im editing it in my drafts back on the app#dont ask why im not just doing it on my computer... shes having some technical difficulties. we're working on it#but not today#...#today was pretty eventful.. even if not very productive. but ive never been a very productive person#we went and saw some light festival thing! it was rly nice.. a little simple at times but it was fun#we went and got some yummy snacks earlier too! tho ive already eaten them all hehe#and i started up animal crossing new leaf. i hadnt played it in ages! its startling how much better it is than new horizions.. imo at least#only problem is i couldnt make it the same as my island.. and i didnt remember why i named my last town#we searched for a while for some reference or somfin to name it after.. but we ended up just going with ''faraway''#cus i liked the idea of being asked where im going.. and just saying far far away#and as beth said it has a kinda fairytail vibe!#...only after i named it did i realize i accidentally named it after the town in omori. oops!#...im about to hit the tag limit. so whoevers still listening i just want u to know..#i love you. ok?#goodnight
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dailyoyo · 6 months ago
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i need to think more abouyt roboy. i need to think more anout roboy. i keep forgetting him i dont want to forget him i like him.
#mod noname#not yoyo#its too late at night for me to start rambleposting bc i have work tomorrow#but like. i reread task failed successfully and bluescreen and roboy is barely mentioned in tfs and i tjink Not at all in bs#just realized bluescreen abbreviates to bs. Yeah seems abt right. anyway#and anyway the reason is definitely because me and pseud wrote those early in our hypfix and had not thought much abt roboy#(least of all what his dynamic with yoyo would be)#but still. WE FORGOT ROBOY AUUUURGH.#its not helped that we kind of jokingly hc'd that roboy doesnt get out of the garage much til postgame bc of like. battery lifespan issues#(a decision we made bc roboy is only playable postgame..... Well technically its a second roboy whos playable but we're ignoring that)#so hes kind of getting excluded both in and out of universe?!?!?#irt tfs and bs forgetting roboy you probably could read into it given theyre both yoyo pov and assume YOYO forgot roboy most of the time#or even more uncharitably simply Tends Not To Think About Roboy#which. i may dedicate more thought to that at some point bc it is a fascinating concept to ponder#(EVEN IF IT MAKES YOYO SUPER EXTRA ASSHOLISH LMAO)#but either way the truth of the matter is We Just Forgot........#i guess we could retroactively edit in Acknowledging Roboy More at some point if we felt like it#though i have an irrational aversion to editing my fics after theyre published XD#anyway the point is i need to think more about roboy. i like him and do not want to always forget him.
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koushirouizumi · 5 months ago
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{C.O.F.T.F.F.} ("Chosen of Faith") ~ Page 40 -> Page 47 + Taichi (+Bonus COFTFF!Koushiro/my older Koushiro writing) & O.C. Hikaru - Hikari's Arc
"I'M COUNTING ON YOU
to SAVE Hikari and DAISUKE, ALL RIGHT?" - TAICHI, to Hikaru
{Originally written: pre 2k11~}
{Fic I was writing back before I understood more about my own A u t i s m}
#fdd#fictional digidestined#hikaru and silvmon#chosen of faith: the fan fic#coftffverse#coftff taichi#coftff koushiro#coftff daisuke#daikaru#daisuke x hikaru#coftff taichi and hikari#taichi and hikaru#koushiro and hikaru#gold and silver d3#(Takeru is calling Ken 'Ken-kun' here because Miyakos friendship had progressed with both Ken and Takerus in general)#(thus Ken is kind of adjacent to Takeru because of their relationships with Miyako)#({Miyakeru are also still psuedodating Here})#(but iirc Takeru isnt using this for Ken even by The Beginning but I also have to listen to it AGAIN)#(This was my SUPER EARLY KOUSHIRO WRITING Y E L L S I HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS COMING FOR ME)#(I had Koushiro be Cool and offer to Hikaru to go through the P.C. because Koushiro being Fellow @utistic KNOWS its Difficult Getting Home)#(and Koushiro was also aware enough to know Hikaru would probably be too nervous to go home alone when it was so late)#(because Hikaru would be walking on foot and NOT D r i v i n g)#(ANYWAY YOUNG MEs CHARACTERIZATION OF TAICHI WAS ONE HUNDRED PERCENT CORRECT THANKYOU B Y E)#({I still really like this section and might keep it as is if adding in a few or handful of lines in a potential rewrite})#coftff spoilers#repeatverse spoilers#(are both tags Id be using for this series though its technically 'COF{TFF}-Verse' made LONG before Repeatverse stuff)#({'Healing Wand' is a parody of BSSMs Moon Stick aka Crescent Moon Wand aka Moon Healing Escalation ability in Digi-form})#(Essentially it basically 'reformats' Virus type Digimon and any Dark form Digimon in the series IF they can get into positions to USE IT)#(So even tho it was called 'Healing' its more like REFORMATTING em back into Data or Vaccine types but some RESIST&Good At Heart Still)
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goxjo · 2 months ago
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! 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨
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ALPHA! GOJO x F OMEGA! READER
+ synopsis. you live in a world where omega and alpha qualities are medically treated at birth to become dormant later in life. present day, only betas & pseudo-betas exist, pheromones & its effects are left in the distant past, and heats & ruts are reduced to monthly cycles of being slightly hornier than normal, nothing more.
so, what happens when a curse you encounter induces a heat in you far worse than anything recorded in modern times?
+ alternatively. in which even a special grade sorcerer isn’t immune to the curse-induced heat of an omega — you, the partner he's pined for over the course of your entire friendship — forcing you and him to go back to your primal roots.
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+ cw. forced A/B/O dynamics, lovesick! gojo, slight! geto x reader, sorcerer! reader, dubcon (technically sex pollen), reader is born an omega, gojo and geto are born alphas, gojo's infinity can't block scent for fic purposes, geto doesn’t turn au, use of restraints, mating call, mutual pining, it gets playful / lighthearted in the middle, implied 'medical' use of sex toys, dirty thoughts, lordosis, petnames (angel, love), pussy job, constant pov switches towards the end, cunnilingus, ass fingering, piv, cervix kisses, confessions, shared orgasm, creampie, knotting, no beta bye, 3.5k+ words, MDNI
+ masterlists. general ┆ jujutsu kaisen ┆ collab
♥︎ aki’s note. big thank you to raven (@raven-cincaide) for sprinting with me ♡ ++ this very late fic is part of my into the omegaverse collab ♡ please show some love to everybody’s amazing works when you can!
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He came as soon as he heard. Plagued by his racing thoughts, Satoru stands still, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watches you from behind the glass window. Though he appears to be calm, seeing you like this is torture.
“How long has she been in there?” Suguru puts his hands in his pockets, taking the spot next to Satoru.
“Too long,” he breathes. And it’s only been half a day. His 6 eyes have been agonizingly locked on your form the entire time, piercing blue eyes peering through the glass and into your poor disturbed soul. You’ve been crying non stop ever since they found you. Eyes glossy, pupils blasted, spewing incoherent words, skin damp and hot.
They needed to restrain your arms and legs to be able to perform tests on you, but that didn’t stop you from crossing your knees, relying on friction to rub your pussy as best as you can. All this, as your body wriggles beneath the harsh clinic lights. You’ve gone absolutely feral. Your cries are pitched an octave higher than what Satoru’s used to. And as much as he doesn’t want to believe it, it’s as if… “It’s as if she’s calling out to someone.”
“To you, you mean?” Suguru scoffs.
Paper seals secure the walls of your room. Remnants of the curse linger around your body and because of that, they’ve deemed it safer to assume only born-betas are allowed direct contact. For now, at least. Shoko says they don’t know if there are aftereffects — meaning, if exposure to a victim could also trigger a rut in an alpha. And now they’re dealing with pheromones, not just cursed energy, so infinity is out of the question. That means Shoko gets to stay with you, and the two born-alphas are to stay on this side until further notice. 
Satoru hates it – being separated from you by a wall like this. Not like you weren’t already normally separated by one, considering your room in the dorms is right next to his. But he particularly hates how this renders him unable to barge in on you any time he wants.
Right now, he wants to annoy you. He wants to poke fun at you. He wants to pull your strings because he likes it when you get fake-mad. You’re cute when you do that. Plus, he uses it to his advantage knowing you can never actually stay mad at him for too long — a weakness the two of you share.
“Heard the report got it all wrong.” Suguru pats Satoru’s back. “Special grade 1, was it? Quite the leap from semi-grade 1.” Suguru shakes his head, chuckling in disbelief. He’s never seen his best friend so distraught. But Suguru reassures him, telling him not to worry and reminding him of the fact that, at the very least, “She’s alive and kicking. Well, kicking too hard for that matter. Those knots are gonna bruise.”
“She should’ve called me. Fucking idiot.” Satoru clicks his tongue.
They have brought in experts — historians, even. They have tried every omega medicine known to man. Emergency suppressants that were once obsolete are concocted that same day. Everything should’ve shown immediate effects. And yet, it’s almost laughable how it all seemed like they were only giving you placebo meds, forcing you to down so many in so little time. Since nothing has worked, Shoko sent them away.
What’s worse is, the curse is exorcised. And in the world of Jujutsu Sorcery, killing a curse usually takes all its enchantments with it. So, if the curse is dead and you’re still experiencing the worst heat known to man, they could damn well consider your revert permanent if they don’t do something about it quickly.
The two men jolt back upon smelling a very pronounced aroma of burnt cinnamon on Shoko who’s left the room for the first time in the last 6 hours. Her hair is slightly disheveled, slightly damp from sweat. And the circles around her eyes have grown visibly darker and heavier.
“Can’t imagine our forefathers going nuts over that stench.” Suguru lightens the mood, fanning his hand in front of his face. He blinks his tears dry as a result of inhaling a whiff of the strong odor.
“It’s not that bad.” Satoru scrunches his nose as he’s suddenly taken aback, though he’s not particularly repulsed by the scent. If anything, he’s immediately convinced it’s something he doesn’t mind living with. “Plus, I heard it’s slightly different for every omega.”
“Finally, some fresh fucking air,” Shoko murmurs as she leans on the glass, head thrown back as she lights up a cigarette. Apparently, she hasn’t had one since they brought you in. “Welp, tried everything. Even left her alone with toys to do—”
“Herself?” Suguru teases.
Satoru scratches his throat. “Did it- uhm… did it help?”
“Not one bit.”
“Maybe you… didn’t give her enough time?” Satoru nonchalantly suggests, pouting as he subconsciously takes notes for himself if he ever gets presented with the opportunity.
“I let her at it for an hour.” Shoko huffs out smoke in the direction opposite to the two men. “I even gave her… options, you know.”
Satoru mentally kicks himself as his thoughts run wild. He can still see the tip of the pink silicone popping out of one of the trays, girth not so different from his. He hates Shoko for doing a shitty job at concealing it because blood rushes to his cock just by looking at that thing, knowing it had gone inside you. He thinks about what other toys Shoko had you use — thinks about which one was able to make you cum the fastest, which one was your favorite?
Fuck. Now, he has to keep adjusting his stance, marching in place like a damn soldier till he manages to get his half-hard cock into a better position in his pants. Using his hands then and there is not an option for obvious reasons.
“Satoru.” Shoko’s tone becomes more serious. “You can drag this longer than it needs to be. But you know there’s only one surefire tried-and-tested-literally-by-millions-way to cure a heat.” She takes a long puff, blowing smoke in between words, embers flickering on the end of her half-done stick. “You up for it?”
“Don’t be stupid.” Of course he is.
Suguru and Shoko shoot each other knowing glances, the former raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘watch this’. “Satoru, If you’re not gonna do it, I wi—”
“I’ll fucking kill you,” Satoru spits, not letting his best friend finish his sentence. The two quickly exchange low fives, chuckling at the expense of their lovesick friend. Satoru turns to Shoko, paying no mind to his friends so blatantly enjoying themselves in the middle of a crisis. “You’re sure you’ve done everything you can?”
“Everything I can, yes. You’ve exhausted all the favors you can ask of me, it’s high time you deal with your own problems.” Shoko prods two fingers onto Satoru’s chest.
“Want her to want it,” Satoru speaks softly.
“Are you blind? Did your fucking 6 eyes stop working?” Shoko looks at Satoru, puzzled, as if she wonders why Satoru isn’t seeing what she’s seeing. “Oh, I’m pretty sure she wants it bad.”
“Want her to want me.”
Shoko rolls her eyes and disposes of her cigarette though it’s a couple more puffs away from when she usually stops. She’s at her limit. “Wait here.”
Trying to prove a point, she goes to the supply room and comes back with two handkerchiefs — a white one and a blue one. She then pats the white one with the sweat off of Satoru’s nape, and the other with Suguru’s. “Pray with me, boys. One of you’s gonna have to return to their roots.” She cracks her neck, preparing to head back in.
The sound of your cries increase and decrease in volume when Shoko opens and closes the door behind her.
“Shoko, Shoko, please! Make it stop! Make it stop! Make it—”
Shoko waves the blue handkerchief above your head, grabbing your attention for only a few seconds till you’re back to screaming in agony. She can almost hear Suguru scoffing on the other side. She then takes out the white cloth with Satoru’s scent, and like a moth to a flame, you’re instantly drawn to it. Your breaths have finally steadied. You take quick bouts of whiffs, head craning every which way she drags the piece of cloth.
She leaves you with the handkerchief after letting your arms and legs loose, allowing you to curl up in a ball as you desperately inhale Satoru’s scent. It’s the first thing that has calmed you in hours. Nonetheless, this relief is temporary. Pretty soon you’ll be needing something stronger. Something more potent. Something in its rawest form.
“S-satoru,” you breathe through the handkerchief, staring at the two-way mirror like a faint prayer to the god you know is there. “Shoko, please get me Satoru.” Your words are clear as day, and that’s the first coherent thing you’ve said all day.
Shoko’s eyes dart to where she’s sure Satoru stands. “Do you see it now?” she mouths.
Satoru’s jaw stiffens, stomach now a mangled mess of anticipation and guilt. On the one hand, he’s relieved. He’s not sure what he would’ve done if you’d reacted the same way to Suguru’s scent. On the other hand, he knows what’s going to happen now. Not like he didn’t see this coming.
Though she didn’t have to, Shoko chose to make a nest of Satoru’s clothes for you in his own bed. “Thought I’d at least make the effort to help make it romantic, no?”
Except nothing about this is romantic. Jujutsu dorm walls thankfully aren’t thin, but thin enough for him to hear your cries from behind his door.
Satoru takes a second to collect himself, getting square with the fact that this isn’t how he wanted your first time to go. He can smell you from where he stands, forcibly reminding him for every second he delays that you’re in there, waiting for him.
He’s played your first time over and over in his head as he fucked his fist — almost every morning in the shower, once or twice in your room when you were out on a mission, and many, many times in the very bed you’re nestled now. Out of the hundreds of scenarios he’s made up of him making love to you in his head, he’s never once pictured this.
His friends have pestered him about this for so long, urging him to take the first step or else Suguru — and on some occasions, Shoko — won’t hesitate to whisk you off your feet. But he tells them he has his reasons for constantly holding off. He says it’s because you’re perfect for him, and so he wanted your first to be perfect — plain and simple. He says it so matter-of-factly, too. But now, to hell with the perfect scenario because as it turns out, it’s mother nature herself who decides to give him one crazy hell of a push to make a move.
Satoru enters his room. Greeted with the raw and unbound fragrance of your heat, his heart pounds in his chest. He coos upon seeing you hugging his pillow, all plump and ready for him. Suddenly, it registers in his head that he’s seeing you naked for the first time, lying in his bed. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he says more to himself, trying to convince himself that this is real — that you’re real.
“‘M sorry, it hurts— hurts so bad, Satoru. ‘M sorry!” He’s sorry it has to be like this, too. But he’s not so sorry that you’d asked for him.
With dried up tears along your cheeks, and fresh ones in your eyes, your cried out voice croaks, “Satoru, help me please. I need you.” You roll on your belly, propping your forearms as you bury your face in his scent, whining into his pillow, back arching + ass perked up, as you shamelessly stroke your pussy to his face. “N-need you now, please, please, please?”
Fuck.
Even now, it melts his heart seeing you so full of want.
“Shh, shh, shh. I’m here aren’t I?”
Satoru doesn’t miss the way your hand grips the sheets as you watch him discard his clothes. He sees the absolute delight in your face, the flexing of your belly, the further bend of your back, the quicker strokes of your fingers around your clit. But it’s the sight of your nectar dripping out of you that finally makes him break.
With how hard he is and how much he wants to devour you like crazy, he could easily be mistaken for an alpha in a rut. He swears his chemical makeup has nothing to do with it. He just wants you that bad.
Suddenly, the space between you and him doesn’t exist. You moan out loud just by being touched by him. He engulfs you in his arms forcing you to sit up, hot skin against even hotter skin, your back pressed flush against his torso as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And your slick — god, your honeyed slick — begins to coat his hard cock speared between your legs and along your puffy folds.
Fuck.
“Sweet angel.” His eyes roll back as he takes in all of your scent.
His cock twitches between your legs, pre-cum starting to drip off his tip. He feels a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as soon as he gets into contact with your slick. Your touch is so fucking electric. One hand wraps around your stomach while the other reaches for your breast, cupping and kneading the soft flesh, feeling your thuds of a heartbeat beneath his palm. You smell so fucking good upclose, your scent keeps hooking and hooking him in, and taking care of you is all he cares about. That's all that matters. He’s holding you now and yet he’s unable to satiate this mad need to be closer to you. He needs to be closer. He needs to make love to you. Needs to be in you—
“S-Satoru.” You guide the hand on your breast, intertwining with his fingers, pressing harder, rougher, against your skin. “You feel so good, Satoru. Please move. N-need more.”
Satoru releases a deep groan in your ear when you bring your knees together, locking his cock between your legs as you begin to grind your pussy on his erection, nectar lubing your every sway.
“E-easy, eaaasy,” Satoru’s voice is low and breathy. He hisses with every roll of your hips, breath hitching as your pussy drags his foreskin back and forth, balls kissing the back of your thighs. Mind hazy with want, he presses his cheek on yours, planting open mouthed and sloppy kisses on the side of your face.
“Not so fast!” Satoru holds your hips in place when you start to pick up the pace, making you whine, “Wha–”
“Too fast, I’m sorry.” Satoru trails apologetic kisses along your jaw. “Not there- don’t want to cum there.”
He apologizes as a tinge of guilt prickles his throat seeing you so utterly vulnerable. Your eyes plead for him to fill you then and there but he needs this moment to last as long as possible, even if it means prolonging your agony.
“S-Satoru, can’t wait any longer!” You try to move your hips but they’re locked in place. 
“No.” He says, firmly, and it hurts to tell you that. “Not yet.” Tears well up in your eyes as your chest heaved at the height of your confusion. Your mouth opens, trying to find words, but before you get to complain, he gives you a soft, chaste kiss — your very first one, he realizes — and tells you, “Get down for me.”
And with tears in your eyes, you oblige. He supposes this is the work of the reemergence of your makeup and raging hormones, making you so pliant and submissive, you’re willing to do his bidding even when you’re on the verge of insanity — when, before this, you always had a stubbornness in you he’d always been fond of. But then again, at this very moment, you’re desperate. And you’re desperate for him.
“Satoru, I don’t know what you’re up to b-but please, don’t take long- oh!” Your protests are quickly replaced with cries as you feel a soft, wet muscle slide across your folds. He’s always had that habit of not letting you finish. To think it’s something he takes to bed with him makes your stomach coil. “Fuck!”
Hot breath fans your folds as he splits your slit open with his tongue, and all you can do is shudder in place, wallowing in the extreme pleasure that dozens of toys weren’t able to give you. You’re practically leaking on his face, honey dripping down his chin, the tip of his nose pressing into your ass.
His tongue squelches with every lick, twisting your core in knots with every line drawn. And then it’s as if Satoru’s lips are sealed around your clit, puckering and sucking on the sensitive bud.
“Satoru, oh god. ‘Toru, so good, ‘s so fucking good~” Your eyebrows furrow, lips pursing as he relentlessly flicks his tongue on your clit.
“Oh!” You scream when a honeyed digit enters your ass, thumb hooking and pressing hard against your g-spot, all while his tongue remains fixated on your clit. “Fuck- mmm!”
You can’t help but mewl and cuss into your first orgasm — the first one he granted you, that is — wave of pleasure washing across your body as he eats out your high. And while it’s a sensation that gives you a sense of satisfaction, you’re left wanting more. You’re left needing more.
“Please fill me- can’t wait any longer- please, alpha~”
Oh, now you’ve done it.
“Sorry, love.” Satoru pulls you back into his chest and cups your cheek, making you look over your shoulder and into his face. “Neither can I.”
“Sato- Oh!” Gagged by the feeling of friction in your aching walls, the very first one you had welcomed since your heat, you’re at a loss for words when his cock enters you, bottoming out straight away. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and he instinctively closes the gap, savoring your mouth, and with every click and swirl of your tongues, he thinks you are probably the softest, most delicate thing he’s ever tasted.
He knows he’s screwed, tasting you for the first time, knowing he’ll never want anything other than you, your lips, your pussy, this feeling ever again.
You feel as if every pump of his cock scratches that stubborn itch that’s spread across your pussy since your heat. And every satisfying ram of his hips kisses your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your high, as if this — his cock, and the feeling of his body rocking your own — has been what’s missing in your life.
“Scream for me, angel,” Satoru grumbles against your ear as he feels himself nearing his own climax. Suddenly, his mouth is back on yours, kissing you, with you purring against his lips as he fucks you through your shared high.
“I–” When his pace comes to a full stop, you know what’s about to come. And he doesn’t know what to say. Shoko’s already briefed him on what’ll happen to an alpha who cums in an omega in heat, not that he doesn’t know what a knot is. He just doesn’t know what to expect. Still, he wants you to take it. Even now, he wants you to want it. But he studies that curious look on your face, and as he scrambles for words, it seems it’s your turn to finally shut him up.
“I love you, Satoru.”
Satoru chuckles. More to himself.
“I love you, too.” Satoru, with breaths uneven, relaxes his forehead against yours. Satoru steadies himself, and pretty soon, you collapse in his arms as his knot locks in your core.
...
"Hey," Satoru breaks the silence. "You know... taking my knot like that means you practically asked me to marry you."
"Shut up."
Shoko alternates between looking at you and flipping the pages of the report in her clipboard. It seems that you’re technically back to normal but she’s got that look in her face as if a couple of words are stuck behind her throat.
“It’s fine. Hit me with it,” you prompt. “What is it?”
“Well, you’re now a full-blown omega is what it is,” Shoko says without an ounce of concern in her voice. “But seeing as you’ve got… help now,” Shoko’s eyes dart to Satoru who’s standing in the corner, “there’s really not much to do about it.”
“Is that so?” You chuckle at the playful tension between Satoru and Shoko.
“You’re ‘help’, by the way,” Shoko addresses Satoru.
“A big one, too,” he adds.
“Keep it in your pants.” Shoko puts her clipboard aside and scratches her temple. “Still, it’s insane that this is what finally brought you two together.”
Shoko’s words put a longing, knowing smile to your face. "This silly guy waited too long."
“Hey, if that’s what it took. Who am I to complain?” Satoru shrugs, ego fluffed by the thought that you’re finally his. And the fact that he and you are the only active alpha and omega in the world? How special is that?
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pspsps. reblogs and comments are appreciated ♥︎
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the-mechanisms-system · 7 months ago
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I love that feeling of high-strung exhaustion from an ongoing days long episode of near constant mid level panic that makes you tense and flighty and leaves your body wrung out after long enough of all your muscles clenching themselves as tight as they damn well please without your input :)) /heavy sarcasm
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gothgoblinbabe · 1 month ago
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Love Game
[Logan Howlett x fem!reader]
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Warnings: MDNI/18+ use of she/her, female reader, swearing, being referred to as a girl, mention of being a stress eater, mild alcohol consumption and mention of alcoholism kinda, jealous!Logan, mild violence, you’re shorter than Logan, unprotected sex (wrap it up), little bit of spitting, sub!logan x kinda dom!reader, voyeurism? Technically?, use of pet names, I believe that’s it but pls lmk if I missed any! ps. you wear a dress in this but if that don't work for you, imagine its a sick ass tux/ fancy attire you're comfy in
Also non cannon compliant because I know Logan is heavy as shit and his body weight would crush you but just for a minute you’re gonna pretend like it wouldn’t
Summary: essentially [this ask] with plot ! // Scott needs to mind his god damn business, but he might’ve done you a favor by snatching your diary and waving it in Logan's face.
Word Count: 8K
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
“That fucking kid.”
You groaned, lifting your mattress and checking underneath and round your bed. You knew Scott was going to snatch your diary the moment you’d realized he overheard you tell Ororo where you kept it.  He was always busting your balls the same way he did Logans, even insisting it was a ‘two for one’ deal when he got to bother you at the same time. 
Well, he was really gonna regret messing with you this time.
“Summers! I’m going to wring your goddamn neck! Where is it?”
Your voice boomed through the open halls of the mansion as you barreled down the stairs, feet moving faster than your thoughts. Everything echoed in this place; if he was here, you know he heard you.
“Scott!”
You continued to call his name, stomping around until you locked eyes with him as you entered the kitchen. In his hands - to your abject horror - was your diary, spread open while Logan peeked over his shoulder. 
Truthfully, Scott was a little scared shitless of the consequences of what he’d done. He’d dealt with Logan back and forth, sure, but you? Terrifying. You had just about the same strength as Logan and about five times his rage. That’s why his eyes grew wide when he saw you, snapping the little book shut. 
You could feel your face burning. A diary was private within itself, but there were some things you’d written that were never supposed to be read by another soul; Scott and Logan’s included.
“Fucker,” you grumbled, reaching forward to grab the book from Scott’s hands until Logan snatched it, holding it above your head. 
“Ah, not so fast,” he teased.
You’d gotten into plenty of squabbles with Scott, but he was absolutely going to pay for this. He knew the way you felt about Logan and you swore he got some sick satisfaction out of trying to humiliate you. He only found out because he’d overheard you confiding in Jean late one night in the living room with a pint of ice cream in your hands, yapping while you shoveled Ben and Jerrys into your mouth.
Your eyes flickered between his face and Logan’s. If looks could kill, Scott would have dropped dead the second you walked into the kitchen. 
“Now what is this,” Logan asked with a lilt in his voice as his eyes scanned a page, “a whole paragraph for little ol’ me?”
Shit. 
“I’ll give it back, I promise, but I gotta read this.”
If you tried, you could maybe snatch the thing from his grip before he read too much. You considered jumping on him, piggybacking until he dropped it or handed it over. What lengths would you be willing to go through to keep it a secret anyway? Was it really even a big deal?
You had a crush. Everybody does at some point. A stupid, harmless crush and if this was how he was going to find out, so be it. 
You were still absolutely planning on tearing Scott from limb to limb, though.
“Huh,” Logan clicked his tongue, beginning to read from the pages, “No one knows how to piss me off like Logan.”
You sighed, dropping your head into your hands.
“True,” he commented, “and he spends a ridiculous amount of time in the bathroom to do his hair.”
“Also true,” Scott chimed in, becoming the subject of your seething gaze. 
“He’d save so much time if he just let me do it for him - like it would be hard to comb it into two cat ears,” he read, looking up to speak to you, “first of all, I told you they’re not cat ears.”
You simply nodded and rolled your eyes.
“Second of all, you couldn’t master ‘em anyway - I’d have to fix it myself.”
You just scoffed, leaning yourself back against the kitchen counter in an attempt to act nonchalant while you tapped one foot uncontrollably. Everything he’d read so far seemed to be the mundane stuff, nothing incriminating just yet. 
“God, how I wanna…play with his hair,” he read, eyebrow quirked in confusion.
Ah, there it is.
“That’s, uh - it’s really old, I didn’t mean, like - it’s from years ago,” you tried to blabber out an excuse.
“It’s dated - it’s from a couple months ago.”
You pursed your lips, nearly biting through the flesh at the same time from the pressure. You had to get that book out of his hands.
“He’s so stubborn,” Logan continued to read with a smug grin, holding the book high when you jumped to grab it, “I wish someone would just put him in his place.”
“Ooh,” Scott chuckled, looking to you, “are you gonna be the one to do it?”
“Fuck you, Summers - I’m so gonna get you back for this,” you snarled.
“I don’t think it would take too much for him to keep his mouth shut” Logan started to read again.
You instantly recognized the part he was reading and gasped, frantically reaching again for the book. 
“No, no, no, Logan, please - you don’t wanna read th-“
“I’d love to be the one to do it. I wanna take him and -”
He stopped reading and his eyes scanned the rest of the page, his amused smile faltering. You knew exactly what it was he’d read and you wanted to bury yourself alive. You remembered scrawling it down, snickering to yourself as you dragged the gel pen across the paper.
I wanna take him and tie him to my bedpost, probably shove my panties in his mouth and fuck him senseless.That would really shut him up.
Out of all the pages in that goddamn book, that’s the one he had to open up to?
You watched intently as his eyes flashed from yours to the page and then back again.
“What does it say?” Scott questioned, trying to lean over to get a look.
Instead of letting him read it, he snapped it shut and held it out towards you, his face expressionless. Was he mad? Grossed out?
“Don’t worry about it. We shouldn’t be readin’ her private stuff anyway.”
“Uh…,” you hesitated, fingers softly grazing his when you took it back, “thanks.”
You turned on your heel immediately and hastily made your way back to your room. You hoped to hide out there the rest of the day, praying maybe Logan would forget what he’d read or just let it be. You knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t.
You knew him so well because you were like mirrors of each other; smart mouthed and hot headed. You realized that the first couple months with the X-men, always butting heads with him until one mission where you had to grab the back of his jacket in an attempt to keep him where he was. You tugged with so much force that you nearly knocked him on his ass. Even Hank had never been bold enough to do that, not when Logan was as riled up as could be. From that point on, it was kind of an unspoken assumption that you would always be the one who calmed him down or held him back. So, you did just that; grabbing his wrist with both hands to force him to keep his claws to himself or pushing back against him when he tried to lunge at Scott for something stupid - though, after what he just pulled, you may just let Logan rip him apart next time. Though it was never acknowledged between the two of you, you were his anchor. You held him down when he began to drift away. Fortunately for you, he did the same - using minimal effort to keep you in place when you tried to go for someone’s face or going as far as to hike you over his shoulder and carry you away from the confrontation, all while you kicked and screamed to be let down. 
You avoided him the best you could for two days after the incident in the kitchen, quick comments in passing but never staying long enough for a full conversation out of fear that he’d bring up what he read. What were you supposed to say, anyway? ‘Sorry I thought about fucking you?’
You’d have to think of something because you were face to face in training a few days later. Scott stood to the side of you both, a stopwatch in his hand. 
“Alright, when I say go, whoever pins the other down for more than five seconds wins. Remember, you're each trying to beat your time from the last session.”
Scott’s voice almost sounded underwater. Your eyes were locked with Logan’s and though you wanted to rip your gaze away, you couldn’t.
“Ready? And…go!”
He backed out of the way and you tried to lunge at Logan, quickly being flipped onto your back.
“Okay, ow,” you whispered to yourself, immediately standing back up.
He tried to grab you when you stood but you caught his hand, twisting his arm behind his back to force him to the ground. You straddled his back and kept your weight on him but he was too quick, turning over and pushing you off him.
“Don’t get too excited, now,” he panted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
You were caught off by the low cadence of his voice, inadvertently letting your guard down and giving him an opportunity to pin your arms above your head and keep your legs down with the weight of his knee. Scott began to count down and you racked your brain for a way to get yourself out from underneath him. 
You were able to pull one of your legs free, sending him a little off balance and using your leg on the side of his torso to roll him over on his back again. You straddled his waist, using your hands and your forearms to hold his down. That, however, left you nose to nose while panting for air. 
“What, you thought I’d let you win?” You asked, tongue poking at the corner of your open mouth. It was usual for you to tease each other with little snide comments. Nothing any different from the usual, right?
“Nah, I just really like havin’ you on top.”
Nope, definitely different. 
You didn’t even hear Scott call time on your match at first. 
“Hey! Lovebirds! I said you can get off each other. Jesus,” he groaned. You finally remembered where you were and quickly scrambled off of Logan. 
“Aw, really? It was just gettin’ good,” he chuckled. You could feel his eyes on you as you gathered your belongings with your back turned. You tried to step out into the hallway, praying he wouldn’t catch you before you met the elevator doors - of course, you weren’t that lucky.
“Hey, hey - princess, wait up,” you heard him call after you and you stopped, turning on your heel with an irritated expression.
“About the other day, the thing you wrote - “
You sighed, rubbing your face in distress and cutting him off before he could finish.
“Listen, Logan,” you quickly looked around the corridor to make sure you were alone, “I know what you read, I don’t wanna talk about it. It - look, it was some stupid phase where I had a crush and it’s over, okay?”
He tilted his head. You hoped he would simply nod and move on, but you watched his lips curl into a smile instead.
“Aw, what happened - you changed your mind?”
You knew him well enough to understand the look on his face. He was never gonna let this go - in fact, he was probably going to nearly torture you over it. 
“Shut up,” you huffed and continued to walk away, keeping your stare straight ahead.
“Aw, pretty girl -“
You dropped your belongings to the floor with an audible thud and gathered the front of Logan’s t-shirt in your fists, tugging him down to your height so you were face to face. 
“First of all, I told you not to call me that - ‘princess’, ’pretty girl’ - like I’m one of your little girlfriends. Okay, kitty cat?” you scolded through gritted teeth. He hated being called that and you knew it.
His eyebrows were raised and his lips parted in surprise.
“And second of all,” you continued with a deep breath, “you read it, it’s done - leave it be, would you? It doesn’t mean anything.”
You still had his shirt in your tight grip.
“Alright, alright - I’m just teasing,” he admitted, trying to pry your fingers from his t-shirt, “and I’m sorry, I never should’ve been reading it in the first place.” 
You sighed and finally let him go.
“Fine, I forgive you. And you can’t ever tell anyone what you read. Promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“So, we’re cool again? Nothings weird?”
“Not unless you make it weird.”
“You were the one flirting with me.”
“Uh - was not. I was simply creating a distraction to throw you off guard and it worked.”
“I’ll get you back.”
“Sure, you will.”
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
You and Logan were in forced proximity hours later, standing with Scott, Jean and Ororo in Charles’ office.
“Do we really have to go?” Logan groaned, hanging his head back in frustration.
You were staring at the thick paper invite atop Charles’ desk. All your names were scrawled in cursive, surrounded by small gold detailing with the event written on top. It was some kind of Gala, something for charity that you couldn’t quite make out from where you were standing.
“It would be a wonderful opportunity to represent the school, yourselves and the mutant population as a whole,” Charles answered.
“You really think wolvie and his little hothead wrangler are gonna be well behaved enough to not make a scene?” Scott gestured towards you both.
Logan stepped towards him and you instinctively grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to hold him back. He looked back at you, clearly annoyed.
“We’ll be fine,” you insisted while glaring daggers in Scott’s direction.
You didn’t notice that you were still holding the sleeve of Logan’s jacket when Charles dismissed you. You let go and cleared your throat as you followed him out of the room.
“There's no way in hell I'm wearing a suit,” he grumbled, looking down at his flannel and jeans.
“You don’t wanna play dress up?” You teased.
“And look like a stuck up prick? No.”
“I'm kind of excited to wear something nice for once,” you admitted, “I’ve got a couple nice dresses I’ve never even worn. Besides, maybe there’s gonna be a couple of hot, rich guys there.”
You were looking straight ahead as you walked side by side down the hall, smiling to yourself. If you had turned your head, you would have seen the way Logan rolled his eyes. 
“What, you’re gonna go home with some rich schmuck just ‘cause he’s got money?”
He sounded almost annoyed. You furrowed your eyebrows and shrugged. 
“I don’t know, if he’s good looking, maybe.”
That was only a little truthful. You were not the type of person who was comfortable enough to go back to a stranger's place or hook up with someone you’d never see again. But maybe you could, if it would keep your mind off Logan and convince him to forget about what he’d read a few days ago. And if the guy did have money? It certainly wouldn’t be a problem for you.
“Oh,” Ororo piped up from behind you, stretching out the vowel, “I see - you’re going shopping. Gotta try before you buy, huh?”
She playfully poked your side and you chuckled, swatting her hand away.
“Call it what you want,” you responded, “but I’m gonna have fun, at the very least.”
You would end up having fun - just in a much different way than you expected.
You decided on getting ready for the night in Ororo’s room when the time came a few weeks later. She was touching up her makeup at her vanity while you changed behind the bathroom door. 
“Does it fit?” She asked through the wood with her eyes still on her reflection.
You were attempting to zip the back of your dress with your arm stretched uncomfortably over your shoulder.
“In a way? Kind of.”
Jean entered the room just then, having already gotten ready in her and Scott’s room.
“She’s trying on a dress that’s been in her closet since last year that still had tags,” Ororo explained to her as she sat on the edge of the bed.
“Can one of you zip me up, though?” you sighed in defeat and opened the door, “I can’t get it.”
“Woah, mama!” Ororo comically wolf whistled and you rolled your eyes with a smile.
The dress was your favorite out of your collection of unworn clothing; it showed the perfect amount of skin and hugged your figure phenomenally. To top it off, the color complemented your skin in the best way possible.
“I don’t look silly? I feel a little funny getting all dolled up,” you confessed, turning around so Jean could pull your zipper up the rest of the way.
“Definitely not silly,” Jean reassured you but mumbled under her breath after, “Logan’s gonna lose it.”
You turned back around to quirk an eyebrow at her.
“Who cares what he thinks? Did I say I care what he thinks? ‘Cause I don’t. Like, at all.”
“Honey,” Ororo began, “we already know you like him, remember?”
You groaned and bent down to look into the mirror on her vanity.
“I don’t - not anymore, at least.”
“Yeah, right,” Jean giggled, “keep telling yourself that.”
Ororo looked at the time on her watch and hastily stood to slip on her shoes, “We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave soon. Logan and Scott are supposed to meet us downstairs.”
You stepped into your shoes and grabbed the little bag you’d carry for the night, following her and Jean out the door. When you finally got to the staircase, you could see Scott and Logan talking to each other at the bottom, the latter of the two standing with his back facing the stairs. 
“All right, ready!” Jean enthusiastically announced. If she hadn’t said anything, the simultaneous clicking of your shoes would’ve announced your presence for you.
Logan turned around to face you. At that moment, he wondered why he ever complained about going in the first place. His eyes were glued to you as you came down the stairs and you could feel yourself start to get warmer. 
He looked so good in a tux, Jesus Christ. You liked when he wore those tight fitting tanks and jeans, sure, but something about the formal attire really did it for you. His cologne wafting into your space when you stood next to him didn’t do much to help dispel any feelings you had, either. How badly you wanted to just forget the stupid event, tug him into your bedroom upstairs and show him that you were so not kidding about what you’d scribbled in your diary. Alas, that was certainly not going to happen.
‘Just an old crush,’ you internally tried to remind yourself, ‘just an old crush - that’s it. I’m not into him anymore.’
Except that you knew damn well it was a lie. 
“We’re gonna be late if we stand here any longer, c’mon,” Scott began walking with Jean while you, Logan and Ororo followed.
“You look nice,” Logan finally spoke as you made it to the door, “think you’ll bag any of those rich guys?”
You almost asked what he was talking about, too lost in thinking about how you actually wanted to bag him and not some stranger.
“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully, “but if I do, you’ll be the last to find out.”
“Oh, really? Why’s that?”
“Because I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Got that right.”
You eventually found yourself in a large, decorated open room, sat in the corner with Logan while he nursed a glass of whiskey and you anxiously scarfed down appetizers. The rest of the team had walked off to mingle - like normal people do.
“Kid, you’re gonna choke if you keep eatin’ that fast,” he warned you.
“ ‘m a stress eater,” you explained with a mouthful of fancy cheese, “besides, you’re a stress drinker. Thank god there’s so many tiny foods.”
He scoffed and took a sip of his drink. 
“What are you even stressed about, anyway? Half your job tonight is to just stand there and look pretty and you’ve already got that down.”
“Thank you, I think?” your eyes nervously scanned the room, “I just hate being in a crowded place, especially one this big that’s full of complete strangers.”
“Why do you think I’m holdin’ a glass right now?” 
Your eyes flickered between his and the half full glass in his hand. You wordlessly took it from his fingers before he even had time to react and downed the contents in one gulp.
“Well, that’s one way to calm your nerves,” he commented, “but if you keep drinkin’ like that, you’re gonna be face first on the ground before the nights even started.”
You were still holding a grimace from the burn of the alcohol but shook your head and cleared your throat, “I just needed the kick in the ass - I’m good.”
“So, you’re gonna go socialize? Good luck,” he raised his eyebrows, “something tells me these people aren’t really who we want to be hanging out with.”
“Why, because they have an immense amount of cash to burn and we don’t? You can’t hate people just because they have money, Logan.”
“Then how am I doin’ it right now?”
You rolled your eyes.
“I think there’s gotta be a few genuinely good people out there who just happen to be rich.”
“Uh-huh, and I think two plus two is five - it doesn’t make me right.”
“You know what? I’m going to prove you wrong,” you said smugly, standing up from the table. 
“I think you’ll prove me right.”
“You wanna bet?”
“It’s a deal.”
“What are we betting, exactly?”
“How ‘bout this - if either of us can find someone here we actually want to go home with, you win. If we don’t, I win.”
“Fine,” you narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms, “what does the winner get?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “we can figure it out later.”
With that, you both dispersed. You were still feeling uncomfortable but that wasn’t going to go away unless you did something about it. Do you just go up and talk to someone? What do you say?
“Excuse me,” a voice said from behind you and you turned around, only to be face to face with a cute guy in a tux.
“Oh, so they come up to you,” you thought immediately.
“Uh, I don’t mean to be forward with you, but you look very beautiful,” he said politely, a charming smile on his face, “I saw you when you walked in and wanted to say something, I just wasn’t sure if you came with someone.”
You took a second to respond, still processing the fact that he even came up to you. 
“Oh, thanks,” you finally replied, “you’re not too bad yourself.”
You tried to use humor to dispel the awkwardness - the type of awkwardness you feel when you get asked to go to a school dance in the seventh grade - but this guy was cute. If you just got to know him a bit, the mild discomfort would probably pass.
“I didn’t come here with anyone, by the way,” you added, “Well, I mean, I did but not in that way - I’m with friends.”
“That’s good to know,” he said, grinning, “in that case, would you wanna dance with me?”
You hadn’t even asked each other your names, and you didn’t really care. 
You nodded and let him take your hand, “I have to warn you, though - I’m no dancer.”
“Well, do I look like one? ‘Cause I’m certainly not, either. But when there’s a beautiful woman in the room that you really wanna talk to, you’ve got to think of a reason to go up and talk to her.”
“I don’t know - I think you just might be a bit of a smooth talker.”
He was and it was definitely working. He clicked his tongue and waved his hand dismissively.
“Oh, c’mon, don’t make me blush.”
He was funny, too. All you had to do was find out a little more about him - for the sake of the bet, yes, but also to determine the probability of breaking his bed frame later if it all went well.
So, you let him rest his arms around your waist and you put your hands on his shoulders. It was kind of nice to have someone so close. You started to feel mildly uncomfortable, though, as if someone was staring at you. You ignored it anyway, deciding it was just the anxiety of being in a place with a lot of people.
Really, it was Logan standing across the room with his stare glued to you two. He looked like he wanted to bore a hole into the poor guy's skull. When you finally caught sight of him, he turned and seemingly disappeared.
You spent a bit of time with your new date, intending to subtilely interrogate him to find out if he fit the criteria for your bet with Logan. Even if he didn’t? You might let him take you home anyway.
You sat with him at an abandoned table, leaning your head on your hand as you half - listened to him talk about stocks. You glanced around the room and spotted Logan again almost immediately. 
He was leaning against the wall with a girl hanging from his arm. She was talking away and he looked completely disinterested. The whole point of coming was to distract yourself from anything to do with him and there you were, ignoring your date to silently seethe at a girl who was only in his vicinity.
You tried to zone back in on the conversation and really pay attention when he started to talk about his job. It was some tech company you’d heard of, a big name in the industry.
“Oh, so, what do you do there?” 
“Well, I own it.”
You squinted and sat up straight.
“You own the company.”
It was more of a statement than a question.
He nodded and you raised your eyebrows. This was going much better than you anticipated. You couldn’t help but glance over at Logan to see that girl still standing with him.  She was twirling a strand of her long hair around her finger. She was undeniably pretty, so you wondered why he wasn’t even looking at her while she hung all over him.
“Hey, would you wanna dance with me again? I know it’s a little slow paced, but I love this song.”
You returned your attention to the man in front of you and smiled as politely as possible.
“You know what? Sure, why not.”
You let him lead you into the middle of the room and rest his hands on your hips. He pulled you much closer than you’d been standing before, so much so that you were nearly stepping on his shoes. His hands slid down further and you laughed a little to yourself. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? So you wondered why it didn’t feel like something you wanted at all.
You caught Ororo’s gaze from across the room and she smiled, flashing you a thumbs up. When you caught Logan’s gaze, he was anything but smiling. There was a reason you felt like all this was something you didn’t want - you knew you wished it was him you were standing with. Still, you weren’t sure of why he wouldn’t tear his eyes from you or why he had such a scowl on his face. 
You stopped staring back when your date planted a kiss on your forehead.
“What was that for?”
“Well, I kinda wanted to kiss you but I figured maybe goin’ right for the lips might have been too much.”
“We don’t even know each other's names.”
“Do we have to?”
You thought hard for a moment, wondering if Logan was still watching. It wasn’t fair to kiss someone just to try to make another person jealous, you knew that. He didn’t even have a reason to be jealous.
“You can kiss me.”
He was an alright kisser - nothing exciting. His lips were soft, though, and you liked the smell of his cologne. Before you could deepen the kiss any further, he was tugged backwards and off of you.
Logan had the back of the poor guy's jacket in his fists, nearly yanking him down to the floor with how much force he used.
“Alright, bub,” he grunted, “I think that's enough, she’s leavin’.”
You glared daggers at him with your lips parted in surprise.
“I can leave when I want to,” you said through gritted teeth, “what the hell is your problem?”
“Is he your boyfriend?” your date asked, nervously looking between you both.
“He’s n-” you began to answer and Logan cut you off as he grabbed your arm.
“Yeah. Get lost.” 
You furrowed your eyebrows in anger but could feel your face becoming warm. You weren’t totally sure if you were turning pink from how enraged you were with Logan or from the words that just came out of his mouth.
“Outside. Now,” you demanded, tugging your arm from his grip.
You turned to walk away and he followed as you grumbled to him, holding your dress up a bit so you wouldn’t trip as you stomped out.
‘What the fuck was that?”
He didn’t answer, simply following at your heels with his eyes on the marble floor of the corridor. You swung open the door and stepped into the cool summer evening air, waiting until the door shut behind you to speak again.
“What, you didn’t want me to win the bet?” you guessed with raised eyebrows.
“You’re really gonna let some guy you don’t know shove his tongue in your mouth?”
You stood in stunned silence for a moment.
“Are you kidding? How is that any of your business?”
He scoffed and shook his head.
“I can’t believe you’re gonna let some asshole be all over you just ‘cause he's got money.”
“What?” you furrowed your eyebrows, “why do you care?”
“Why don’t you? Seriously, you’d just go home with some guy and fuck him?”
“I don’t - I don’t know,” you stuttered, “maybe, but that was part of that stupid bet! Not that it’s any of your concern!”
You were nearly shouting at each other.
He clicked his tongue and spoke in a sour tone, “none of my concern, sure. I didn’t think you’d actually try and go home with someone -”
“Okay, you know what?” you threw your hands up in frustration, “I don’t know what the hell your problem is or why you’re acting like some jealous boyfriend, but fucking cut it out!”
You were both finally quiet for a moment. The sound of cicadas and crickets songs filled the silence. Logan’s face was pleading, his features highlighted by the soft golden yellow light seeping through the building’s windows.
“You just don’t get it, do you?” he mumbled under his breath, his arms crossed over his chest.
You raised your eyebrows, “get what?”
You sounded exasperated, sick of playing what felt like the worst game of twenty questions ever.
Logan brought a hand to his face, scratching at his facial hair - something you recognized as a nervous habit.
“That stupid fuckin’ notebook, the little one you write in,” he groaned, “I just wish I never read it.”
“So, you’re mad about that?” You asked, clearly still confused as to what he was trying to say, “listen, I’m sorry, it wasn’t -“
“No, no, that’s not what I’m saying,” he interrupted, “it’s - fuck, I don’t know. I don’t know, It's like I read that damn thing and lost my mind.”
You waited for him to elaborate, a puzzled expression still plastered on your face.
“It’s all I can think about, all the time - it's like I close my eyes and I can still see it written down in your chicken scratch. I don’t even know what to do, It’s so stupid,” he huffed.
You still didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you or whether he was talking to you or himself.
“And then - I don’t know, alright - you look so…” he groaned with his face in his hands, “I like you - is that enough? Ya’ get it? I liked you for awhile and then Scott had to go peekin’ through shit that wasn’t his and reading that shit you wrote just made it even worse for me. I’m supposed to read that you wanna ‘fuck me senseless’ and just let it go? You thought that wasn’t gonna do something to me?”
You were slack jawed, feeling like your legs were going to give out from under you.
He seemed angry, his nostrils flaring while he held a frown.
“So…you -“ 
His hands cupped your face and he leaned down close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your skin.
“So, I want you to fuck me like you said you wanted to.”
Your eyes grew so wide that you feared they might pop out of your head. 
“Would you, if I asked?” He continued in a low voice.
Your stomach erupted in butterflies and you nodded without hesitation. Conversations like this with Logan had only ever happened in your dreams.
His lips finally connecting with yours made your head spin. If he wasn’t tenderly holding your face, you might’ve just let yourself fall to the ground.
“I’ve been thinking about you for months, you know,” he admitted when he pulled away, “watchin’ when you walk away, thinking about how you say my name, wishing I could just tell ya’ - I didn’t have the nerve. Seein’ you with another guy, though - I couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I could and I just can't.”
You almost expected to hear the beeping of your alarm clock that would startle you awake in your bedroom. Still, it never came. You could feel his hot breath on your face, the breeze on your skin, the warmth of his hands; it was all too real.
“You mean it? All of it?”
You didn’t know why your voice sounded so desperate, almost pleading with him not to toy with you.
“ ‘course I do. Of course, I mean - god, look at you.”
His mouth was on yours again and you smiled against his lips, your cheeks tinted pink.
“Hey, wait,” you pulled away momentarily, “why did you agree to that bet in the first place, then?”
He gnawed on his bottom lip anxiously.
“I kinda figured you wouldn’t be able to find someone good enough, I don’t know - maybe I could convince you to come back with me instead.”
“That was your plan?” you let out a small laugh, smiling so wide that your face began to ache.
“Well, It might’ve worked if you hadn’t met what’s-his-face in there.”
“I don’t know his name,” you shrugged, “didn’t care to ask.”
He quirked an eyebrow at you.
“I let him kiss me because I wanted to make you jealous,” you admitted, “I still like you.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
His expression was as smug as could be.
“That you still like me? Yeah.”
“How? Am I that obvious?”
“It’s not your fault,” he shrugged and lowered his voice to a whisper as he put his lips to your ear, “I could smell how wet you’ve been all night.”
You swallowed hard and shivered when his hand slid up your back.
“And it worked, by the way - I’m jealous.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded and leaned his forehead against yours.
“Well,” you affectionately scratched at the hair at the back of his head, “are you gonna do something about it, then?” 
He kissed you with much more fever than before and you caught his lower lip between your teeth, making him groan into your mouth. His hands were in your hair to push you even further into him to the point he was practically hunched over your body. When you finally took a second to catch your breath, you had a realization.
“I won the bet.”
He furrowed his eyebrows.
“Please tell me you don’t mean you’re actually still gonna go home with that guy.”
“No,” you rolled your eyes and let out an amused scoff, “I meant you, Logan.”
“Me,” he repeated with a beaming smile, “you’re coming home with me.”
You nodded and giggled, absentmindedly fixing the hair hanging in front of his forehead. 
He was staring into your eyes in a way that had you feeling as though there was nothing else around you - no fancy party inside, no responsibility to socialize - just you and Logan in the cool light of the moon. He was studying your face like he’d never see it again if he turned away.
“What if I couldn’t wait till we got home?” He asked quietly. His warm breath just barely grazed your lips.
Your eyes widened and you thought for a moment, looking between him and the door beside you.
“C’mere,” you instructed simply, taking him by his hand and leading him inside to walk down the main hallway. You scanned the area and once you were sure no one would see either of you, you began trying knobs of different doors to see if one would open. When one finally gave, you slipped inside with Logan in toe and flicked on the lights. It was a small dusty office, one that probably hadn’t been used in a few months at the very least.
Neither of you wasted any time in taking advantage of your newfound isolation. Logan was kissing you like he was starving to taste you, working his way down your neck with an open mouth to leave darkening spots slick with his saliva.
“Logan,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed momentarily from the way he was nipping and sucking at your skin.
“I love when you say my name,” he admitted, mumbling into your neck. His hands were everywhere - tangled in your hair, resting on your waist, your hips, your ass - he was desperate to keep his hands on you now that he had you. 
You disconnected your lips for a moment so you could hop back to sit up on the top of the desk behind you. You hiked the skirt of your dress above your knees to avoid ripping it and motioned for him to stand between your knees as you held the middle of the skirt down with one hand.
“I’ve got an idea for my reward for winning the bet,” you smiled mischievously, leaning up to hold his chin and force him to look you in the eye, “what do you say, pretty boy? You wanna be part of it?”
He nodded eagerly and the pace of his breathing increased significantly.
“Good,” you leaned back on one hand, using the other to tug at Logan’s suit jacket, “off.”
He obeyed without hesitation and shrugged the garment off his shoulders. He began to untuck his shirt and you stopped him with a gentle touch.
“Did I say to take that off too, sweetheart? I don’t think I did,” you spoke softly in a firm tone.
“No - no, ma’am.”
It drove you crazy to have him under your thumb in that way, his usual domineering nature and dominance melting away by the second. 
“So do as you're told, baby,” you instructed, “if you’re good for me, maybe I’ll reward you back.”
You could see him swallow hard, eyelids nearly fluttering closed when he thought of all the possibilities of what that might entail. 
“F- mhm, fuck,” he stuttered when you brought a hand to the front of his pants and barely grazed the spot below the button with your fingertips. He began to twitch more and more with every touch.
“Are you gonna say yes?” your voice was near taunting, “or do I have to try a little more convincing?”
You popped the button on the front of his pants with ease and slid your hand underneath to feel him over the soft fabric of his underwear.
“Yeah, yes, I - ah, yeah,” he moaned in response, rocking his hips towards your hand and resting his forehead on your shoulder.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
You smiled and gently kissed his temple.There was something so lovably vulnerable about the way he was acting with you. You knew he’d never let another soul find out that he loved what you did to him - dreaming of you whispering affectionate nicknames and praise as he sloppily pounded into you or spending hours on his sore knees just so he could feel you cum on his face - but the intensity of his devotion bordered otherworldly. 
“Do me a favor, baby,” you started, lifting your hips for a second to drag your panties down your legs, “take out your pretty cock for me.”
He obeyed, tugging his pants down his thighs just enough for his already hard dick to spring up out of the confines of his briefs. You inadvertently licked your lips at the sight, thinking of how heavenly he’d feel in you. He was huge, but for a guy who’s six foot two, it wasn’t a surprise.
He stood expectantly between your legs with his hands on your thighs. You leaned back on both hands, cocking your head to the side as you spoke.
“Touch yourself first and maybe I’ll let you touch me.”
The ‘maybe’ was a bluff. He knew as well as you did that you’d let him touch you regardless.
“Gimme your hand,” you ordered before he could even wrap his fingers around himself. You leaned your mouth over the palm of his hand and spat.
He groaned from the gesture alone, knees nearly buckling when he finally brought his hand down to coat his cock in your saliva.
“Feels good?” You cooed, eyes flickering from his face to his leaking cock in his fist.
“Mm - mhm, yeah, ‘s good,” he panted, “really fucking good.”
You failed an attempt to hide your wide smile, hypnotized by the repeated motion of his hand. He looked so pretty like this - his jaw hung open, chest heaving while his face became more flushed with every passing second. You could feel the rush of heat in your lower stomach just from watching him.
You couldn’t help yourself from leaning forward a little and unbuttoning his shirt from the top down, all while he watched you intently, his breathing becoming heavier the closer your hand came to his.
“Think of you all the time when I do this at home,” he panted, “you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”
The compliment made your heart swell; it was a sweet remark that so greatly contrasted the obscene speed of his hand as he stroked himself. 
“You’re such a pretty boy,” you whispered and planted a kiss on his pink cheek, “you look amazing.”
You caught the way the motion of his hand slowed and you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching forward and wrapping your fingers around his cock. He growled, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Don’t work yourself up so soon, kitty cat, or you’re gonna be finished before I even get to fuck you,” you murmured into his ear and he gasped as you started to pump him.
“Don’t - ah - don’t call me that,” he whimpered.
“Aw, you don’t like it, my pretty kitty?”
He growled again, even more animalistically , but his hips jerking into your hand told you he really didn’t hate that nickname as much as he told you he did.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” you continued to tease, “I know you like it - you love bein’ my big, pretty kitty.”
He groaned, lifting his head from your shoulder and crashing his lips into yours. 
“Sh-shut up,” he managed to grunt.
You immediately withdrew your hand and sat back again.
He whimpered from the loss of contact and looked at you with pleading eyes, silently asking why you stopped.
“I said you had to be good for me, didn’t I?” you asked.
He nodded, eyes traveling from your thighs, up your body and then back down again. 
“Good boys don’t talk back,” you said simply, raising your eyebrows.
“I’m sorry, I’ll - I’m good, I’ll behave, just please -“
His speech was cut short when you hiked your dress up even further to expose your bare, wet pussy.
“Fucking Christ,” he moaned.
You tugged the top of your dress down to expose your chest and he had to grip the desk you were sitting on so his legs wouldn’t give out from under him. 
“If you can be real quiet,” you pushed some fallen hair out of his face, “I’ll let you cum in me. You want that?”
“Please, ‘v been thinking of that for fucking weeks,” he begged, “please, please, baby.”
He tentatively cupped one of your breasts and you rested your hand atop his, encouraging him to squeeze and knead however he pleased. You spurred him on to the point that he couldn’t resist leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue and sucking while his fingers toyed with the other one.
You couldn’t help whining from the sensation of his mouth on you while you combed your fingers through his hair.
He finally detached himself after ravishing your chest in wet kisses and left a string of saliva connecting his tongue to your nipple. You giggled a little to yourself and crashed your lips into his again in a heated mess of tongues and teeth. You scooted your hips up on the table and used your grip on his cock to graze his tip up against you, making him shudder.
“You’re so - fuck, you’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he gasped and held your hips in an iron grip.
“What’d I say about back talk?” you moved the head of his cock further away from you.
He groaned in frustration, moving his hands to hold your face, “Honey, I’m already beggin’ -  please, I need you.”
The desperation in his voice made you even wetter.
“I guess you’ve been pretty good for me - do you think you deserve it?” 
He nodded eagerly and placed his hand over yours that was around him. You let him nudge your hand away to align himself with your entrance. His eyes bore into yours as he finally began to push himself into you, rocking his hips slowly to help you adjust to his size. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist. When he fully sheathed himself inside of you, he let out a loud moan that echoed through the small space.
“I told you to be quiet, sweetheart,” you whispered into his ear.
“Uh-huh, ‘s a lil’ hard when I’m fuckin’ a girl I’ve been dreamin’  about for months,” he mumbled, working up a steady pace while you wrapped your legs around him and locked your ankles at the small of his back to help push him further into you.
“You feel so good, Logan,” you moaned, kissing down his jaw and throat.
He groaned at full volume again.
“Are you gonna stay quiet? or do I have to shut you up? Hm?” you grinned and he made an even louder noise. You reached behind you to find your panties and folded them into a ball, holding his jaw with your other hand.
“Open.”
He obeyed immediately, rolling his eyes into the back of his head when you stuffed them into his open mouth.
“Good kitty.”
He let out a muffled growl and the speed of his hips increased.
“Yeah,” you panted, “I know you like that.”
The angle at which he was fucking you made it so that he was hitting the sensitive spot inside of you over and over again, making you gasp each time. Sweat was forming on his neck and down both your chests, practically sticking your skin together in the hot, stuffy room.
“You’re - you’re so pretty,” you told him truthfully, admiring the rosey tint of his face and the drool that was starting to run down from the corner of his mouth. His eyelids fluttered closed and he started to thrust into you hard enough to shake the desk you were sitting on. 
“Easy, kitty cat - you’re gonna break somethin’,” you muttered into the hot skin of his neck with a smug smile on your face.
His pace didn’t falter in the slightest, his hands gripping your ass to push you towards him every time he slammed his hips forward. The fabric of your panties muffled the guttural moan he choked on when you lightly sunk your teeth into his shoulder. He slid his hand between your bodies to bring his thumb to your clit, working tight circles around the bundle of nerves in rhythm with the thrust of his hips.
“Fuck, fuck, I-“ you were speechless, at a loss for words from the brutal combination of the pressure he applied with his fingers and the way he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you. His eyes were squeezed shut and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration, still whining and growling like an animal into the fabric of your underwear. You felt the heat in your lower stomach start to build and you buried your face in his shoulder, your mascara smudged under your eyes.
“Logan, Logan, I’m - ah - ‘m gonna come,” you warned, tugging on the back of his hair.
He groaned and yanked the fabric out of his mouth, immediately bringing his lips to yours so he could tenderly make out with you while the squelching sound of your dripping cunt filled the room. 
“C’mon,” he growled into your mouth, “c’mon, baby, please.”
Both your chins were slick with each other's saliva from the frantic way you’d smashed your lips together. Your whining and pleading became louder with every roll of his hips until the sensation sent you over the edge, euphoria blossoming from your lower stomach and spreading all throughout your body.
“Oh my god, Logan,” you nearly yelled, your hands slipping under his open shirt to scratch down his back, “s-so good. I love you.”
The three words slipped out without hesitation and your eyes widened, mild humiliation replacing the fading feeling of your orgasm.
His hips rutted against yours when you spoke and he leaned his face down so he was nose to nose with you.
“Love you so much.”
He kissed you softly with both his hands on your cheeks, so filled with affection that you could’ve cried. He slid his hands down back to your hips and kept his forehead against yours as he continued to drill into you.
“I don’t - I don’t ever wanna see ya’ with anybody else,” he panted, “I needed ya’ so bad. You - ah - ya’ drive me crazy.”
Even after having already came, his pussy-drunk rambling still spawned butterflies in the pit of your stomach.
“You’ll never see me with someone else, baby - promise. ‘s always been you. Only ever really wanted you,” you admitted with a soft voice.
His thrusts became sloppy and you could tell that spurring him on with your words would make him finish just as quickly as you did.
“I’m yours, always have been,” you whispered in his ear, “you’re the only one I’ve ever thought about fucking me like this.”
He choked out a sob into your shoulder and came with an animalistic growl, looking down to watch the mess being made all over your inner thighs.
“Love you so fucking much,” he repeated with a sigh, slowly stopping the thrust of his hips and resting his head against yours again.
“I love you, too,” you replied and planted a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Sorry I made such a mess of ya’,” he apologized, spreading your thighs as he pulled out, “I’ll clean ya’ up when we’re home, I swear.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” you chuckled, readjusting your dress and slipping your underwear back on while Logan tucked himself back into his pants and buttoned his shirt.
You caught a glimpse of the watch on his wrist as he moved and grabbed his hand so you could see the time.
“Shit! We were supposed to meet everyone back out front ten minutes ago,” you realized aloud, slipping yourself off the desk and pulling your dress down.
He mirrored your haste and let you fix his hair, doing the same for you and wiping away the mascara under your eyes.
“Okay, okay, c’mon,” you insisted, opening the door and slipping out hand in hand. You scurried down the abandoned corridor and all the way to the front exit. When Logan pushed open the door, you were met with Jean, Scott, and Ororo standing with worried expressions.
“What happened to you guys?” Scott asked before Jean nudged him in the arm, pointing towards your intertwined hands.
You looked towards where she was pointing and back up again, “Oh, uh…”
You tried to think of an excuse and looked to Logan beside you for help. 
“Nothin’,” he said in a nonchalant manner, “just got lost around the place - lot’s of rooms in there.”
Ororo raised her eyebrows suspiciously. 
“Sure, and, uh - Is that why you’re holding hands?”
You laughed a little, tugging his hand behind your back.
“Well,” you started, “remember I said I’d try to bag a guy tonight? Um-”
“I’ve been bagged,” Logan interrupted with a huge, smug grin.
“I wasn’t gonna put it like that,” you insisted, “but - yeah.”
“Finally,” Jean huffed and rolled her eyes, “I thought we’d have to have an intervention.”
“Huh?” Logan narrowed his eyes.
“Oh, c’mon,” Ororo laughed, “we all knew you liked each other, even before you did.” 
“And you never said anything?” Logan asked.
“Neither of you ever believed us!”
“True,” you agreed with a shrug and giggle. 
“I believe you now,” he stated, still holding your hand as you all made your way into the night, “She might like me. Just a little bit.”
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A/N: Thank you so much if you read till the end :) !! I did get stuck with some writers block in the middle of this and I'm not completely fulfilled w it but if I kept working on it it may take another week and my brain can't do it
Still working on requests rn so if you sent one in, I haven't forgotten about you!!! I'm trying to do two at a time so I can keep up (I won't burn myself out dw I usually do nothing all day till I work in the afternoon) <3
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deadsnakey · 2 months ago
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𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔? 𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔!
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𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐘!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 𝐱 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄
—> Mattheo Riddle and Theodore Nott love to bother you, it's so obvious they hate you. Do they really, though?
Check out the request here!
—> Enemies to lovers, kind of... Fluff, a little angst possibly and two idiotic boyfriends who think bothering you very clearly means they like you.
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★ Ok, this might be a little messy but just stay with me here.
★ since first year, mattheo thought you were so pretty and just adorable. though, he always kept his distance as much as possible.
★ it wasn't untill around third year that mattheo and Theodore started getting really close, eventually dating in 5th year.
★ but there was still a huge problem, you.
★ they both knew they liked you, they've talked about it voguely a few times and since then they've had to an understanding that you belong to them and no one else...even if you didn't know it yet.
★ unfortunately for you, they only knew one way to flirt; teasing and bothering you.
★ its not too long until you start trying to avoid them as much as possible, knowing you'll be teased relentlessly or the butt of their joke that you never found funny.
★ they always called you names like princess, sweetheart, doll or darling. nicknames in Italian from Theo that you didn't really understand.
★ Stealing your pencils, notebooks, homework or even your wand just to get your attention. They'd dangle it where you couldn't reach. Anything for your attention.
you were going to your last period of the day, hoping you'd be able to make it through without seeing them, the two boys. you've been lucky enough to go the whole day without seeing them but you still technically had two more hours before you'd be safe in your dorm for the night.
you've made it to class, and successfully made it through. walking through the halls, listening to music. your huffy puffy friend ended up stopping you for a few minutes to ask about the material you both were learning at the moment in potions.
once done, you quickly started walking again, about to press play on your music again when you feel someone lightly tap your shoulder. you sigh to yourself, hoping it wasn't the two boys whom you've been dreading of seeing; let alone talking to.
"hey, princess. where you've been lately? hm? avoiding us, weren't you?" mattheo taunted, a smirk stretched on the side of his lips.
you slowly blinked, in disbelief. "why? miss taunting your toy? can you guys just leave me alone? I've done nothing to you." they both huffed, "toy? is that how you really see it? you know it's quite saddening you'd think of us in such a way, darling." mattheo put his arm on theodore's shoulder, slighting leaning on it.
"yeah, okay." you harshly spat out, turning on your heel to get away from them. Theodore was quicker. he gently but firmly grabbed your arm and pulled you into his chest making you stumble; your back now touching his clothed chest. you were quickly intoxicated with the smell of faint cigarettes and cinnamon.
"what? got nothing to say now, tesoro?", "don't call me that. and let me go!" you struggled. "someone's feisty, eh? c'mon, lets go to my dorm. I think we need to have a little chat with you." mattheo said, gently putting his hand on the top of your head in a genuine gesture as Theodore started walking, mattheo in front as he led the way and Theodore making sure you're not trying to escape from behind you.
★ safe to say, you were scared.
★ but they really did just want to talk to you. they confessed their feelings for you although you were confused. they hated you.
★ they explained that they didn't hate you, they were head over heels for you if anything. they just...had a really bad way of showing it, hence the constant and brutal teasing.
★ you were shocked. but you told them that they needed to give you some time, you told them as long as they toned it down and stopped being so cruel with their teasing and jokes and actually got to now them, you'd consider dating them.
★ They finally got your attention and they loved it.
★ after 4 awful months of torture from these two, it payed off.
★ fast forward to the end of sixth year, you developed feelings from them both and heavily overtime. that's when you told them that you had came to falling for them and would love to date them both; now that you felt ready.
★ they were soooo happy, definitely lots of affection from these two the rest of the day and night.
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envy-of-the-apple · 9 months ago
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ive been really obsessed with your gojo/geto naga oneshots and asks lately it feels like literal brain rot at this point its so good. ive reread it 6 times lol
i was wondering though, what would Geto do if Gojo was just a little bit too heavy handed with you? to the point of a sprained or broken arm or leg. Would he get mad at Gojo or just mad in general that reader was hurt? Also how would they act in response to the injured reader who can't do basic tasks themselves, I personally think they would enjoy the fact she relied on them even more to even move now.
Reminder requests are still closed!!!! I just love this idea so so much holdon lemme-
Part one Part three
(Yandere, dark, implied forced relationships, noncon touching, biting, language barriers, drugging(?))
Top of the Food Chain pt2
Dark!Naga!SatoSugu x reader
Two days later, Satoru still wasn't allowed inside the cave.
You can hear him, hissing and clicking, right outside, hovering just behind the invisible line Suguru refused to let him pass. If you weren't already in so much pain, you would have found pity on the poor thing. He wasn't allowed in his own home, even though the incident wasn't entirely his fault.
Technically, Satoru saved you. It was yet again another escape attempt. Something you'd been doing a lot these days once you've figured out these beings' intentions with you. You'd gotten past the rock quarry this time, a new record. Your plan was filled with holes: there was no way to truly escape the island. You had no boat, no way to call for help. Still, you ran, forgetting that there were more dangerous things on this island other than two territorial serpent men.
It was a monster. There was no other way to describe it. Big, ugly, shiny spikes and sharp teeth, eyes dripping with bloodlust. You would have been eaten, killed, maimed, if Satoru hadn't caught up with you in time.
The only collateral was the loss of nearby plant life and your broken wrist.
That had been Satoru's fault. He'd pulled at you too hard at the hand. The remnants of adrenaline from the fight, his anger, anger made him too rough on your fragile body. He froze at the wet snap, and then you started screaming. That was how Suguru had found you. Despite how much Satoru clicked and hummed and tittered, from his mate's look, you doubted it helped his case.
Another lonely coo made you wince. Suguru only huffed, wrapping you tighter in his coils. They were already warm from your body heat. The numerous animal pelts helped your comfort too.
"Make him stop," you beg, "he's been going on for hours."
At that, Suguru lifts his head from the base of your neck. He tilts his head as he surveys you, and you can't help but think how awful you must look. Sickly-looking from the pain, clammy skin. He can't do much about your appearance, but the least he could do was shut Satoru up.
"What want?" Suguru asks, "water?"
At that, he picks up a sack filled with sea-smelling water. You wrinkle your nose, turning away, cocooning yourself within his coils. With the increased pain, your appetite has decreased, as well as your thirst. The stress of being trapped like this along with your broken wrist was starting to take its toll on your body.
Suguru makes a sound of disapproval, shuffling around behind you. You know he's still mad about the escape attempt, but he's concerned enough for your well-being to put his anger to the side for now. He'd helped wrap your wrist, using something stretchy and soft.
You raise your wrist up, inspecting the thin material wrapped around your wrist. You're not sure what it is, it's too silky to resemble cotton. It must be from the foliage around the island. Yet, another strange thing you'd never find the answer to.
There's another rumble coming from the Naga's chest. He wraps a hand around your chin, bringing your face closer. In his other, he holds the dripping sack.
"Suguru," it's too soft to be anything more than a whine, "it hurts too much to take anything right now. Stop."
"Hurt?" he asks.
To that, you gesture to your broken wrist. It may not have been broken, you were no doctor, so you couldn't say for certain. But considering you'd been in the same amount of pain for two days, it really didn't matter to you.
A click, before he's tossing a glare at the entrance of the cave. He'd already given Satoru a beating right before coming to coddle you. Despite being bigger than his mate, Satoru is docile enough to take them. Suguru had been acting more aggressive lately. You had a feeling it was your fault.
He'd been inspecting your wrist every so often, but you see a different look within his brown eyes now as he takes your injured hand. He carefully turns your palm over, pressing slightly into your wrist. When you yelp, he retracts.
"Hurt." Suguru confirms. You can only nod.
"Hurt. No drink? No eat?" You don't like the way he's talking. As if he's putting a puzzle piece together. Coming to a solution you won't like.
When you go to pull away, his grip only tightens.
"No hurt," he says it like a promise, as though you're a toddler and he's coaxing you into drinking a sour-tasting medicine. His lips part, revealing the fangs you've often seen him use on meat, on Satoru.
Never did you think he'd ever use them on you.
"Suguru," you're pleading, trying to move away when he bends down, his hair brushing your sweaty forehead. You can feel his breath on your neck.
"No hurt," he repeats, and then he bites down.
He lied, of course, he did. His teeth puncture your skin, tearing through like paper. You think you screamed, or maybe it was more akin to a pitiful whimper. In the background, you can hear someone hiss, Satoru maybe?
For a second, you feel everything, the pain, the puncture wound, Suguru lightly licking your neck.
And then, you feel weightless.
It's hard to describe, but your brain feels like it's turned to mush. Your body feels like you're on a soft cloud, just there, floating. In the back of your mind, you remember how dazed Satoru would get whenever Suguru bit him. At the time, you just thought he was lovestruck.
When Suguru pulls away, he's smiling. A trail of blood, your blood goes down his lip. You can barely keep your eyes on him, close to falling asleep.
"No hurt," he says. When he leans down to kiss you, you accept without a single fuss.
You don't remember much after that, but you remember accepting whatever Suguru put in your mouth. The panic in your body was non-existent as he held the water-sack above your lips, watching as your throat bobbed. You think he kissed you a few more times, but you're not too sure. You were a lot more averse to kissing before. It'd make sense he'd take advantage of it.
When you wake up again, you're in between two bodies. The pain in your wrist is still there, but not as horrible as before. You're still groggy, mind fuzzy. Whatever Suguru had given you was still in effect.
Satoru is the first to notice you're awake. Suguru and him must have made up during the time you were unconscious. He props himself up, peering down at you. With how dim the cave is, you can barely make out his features. He looks just as guilty as he had two days ago.
"Sorry," he mutters, "is sorry."
If you weren't still high, you might have laughed. When you continue to stare, he takes it in stride, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then your lips. You wince in distaste, leaning back.
"Stop," you say but don't fight when he licks at your jaw. You can barely move your fingers.
Panic is still far away, a distant call than anything alarming. It should worry you, but you still can't feel anything.
Suguru is at your back. You can hear his scales move across the cavern floor. He gives a hum, content as he curls himself around you. He doesn't seem to mind Satoru's touches. Your theory that they must have made up is unfortunately starting to strengthen.
You could barely manage Suguru's coddlings. You don't think you'll survive Satoru's.
"Sorry," he mouths into your neck. You can feel the grip on your waist starting to tighten. He stops, rising up to stare at you.
Blue, almost glowing.
"But no more leave."
You're coherent enough to piece together what he means. You can't escape Satoru. You can't escape Suguru. You can't leave this island. Running away is useless.
The nagas understood it. It's time you did too.
"Yes," you finally say, "no more leave."
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skzdarlings · 2 months ago
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alternate ending ; sharing a bed ; chan
original sharing a bed one-shot with chan.
author's note: i do love the final smut edit (and it's my most popular piece so clearly i was right!) but i always missed this fluff version. the love confession is very cute in this one.
content info: still some suggestive content, the first half of the story is the same and there's some heavy kissing, but this is definitely the fluffy director's cut lol
word count: 1800 words
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You let yourself into Chan’s room, expecting to find him awake and working despite the hour.   Whenever you sleep over, your friend is more than happy to let you sleep in his bed when you can’t get comfy on the couch.   Many nights have passed that way, nestled under his blankets and falling asleep to his typing and clicking and absent-minded humming.   He likes to work through his nights so you sleep until morning then leave when he turns in.   
He must have been tired tonight.  His laptop is shut, the room dark save for the little flickering lights of his computer station.  Chan is in bed already, laying with his back to you and the blankets tucked around him.  He is sound asleep, so much so that he didn’t even hear your gentle knocks. 
You feel bad for disturbing him now.   Commandeering his bed is a little different when he is already in it.
You turn to leave when the blankets rustle behind you.  Chan’s groggy voice breaks through the silence, a raspy, “Babygirl?  That you?” 
Maybe it’s the cold floor under your bare feet, maybe it’s the late hour, or maybe it’s the roughness in his voice, but despite how many times Chan has playfully and affectionately called you baby girl, this time a little shiver brushes up your spine. 
You turn back around, wrapping your arms around yourself.   Thanks to the faint light from his work area, you can see Chan clearly even in the dark.  He has rolled onto his back and is rubbing a hand over his face. 
“Sorry, Channie,” you whisper.  “You sleep.  It’s fine.” 
His blanket slips down his bare chest and he drops his arm, looking at you with crinkled, sleepy eyes.  His curly hair is an endearing mess, though your eyes go a little lower when the blanket falls to his waistline.  You quickly lift your gaze from his abdomen to his sleepy eyes.  He squints at you as he adjusts to the darkness.   
“Everything all right?” he asks, still groggy. 
“Yeah, don’t worry,” you say, as if that has ever stopped Chan from worrying anyway. 
He is a little more awake now, his brow pinching as he looks at you.  All at once his face goes slack with realization.  A smile pushes at his dimples. 
“Right,” he says.  “The couch sucks, yeah?  Sorry, wasn’t thinking—”
“Don’t apologize,” you say with a little laugh.  “It’s your bed.” 
“Auuggh,” he says with faux-agony, “I’m such a bad host.” 
You cannot hide your amusement, smiling when he slaps a melodramatic hand over his heart.  As usual, the goofball makes himself giggle with his dumb little theatrics, the sound twinkling in its delight.  Your heart skips a beat.  
“All right,” he says.  “No worries.  Big bed.  You wanna share?” 
It isn’t really a question because he doesn’t wait for an answer, flipping open the covers for you to slide in. 
When you step towards the bed, he throws up a cautionary hand and laughs again.
“Sorry, uh, just wait one second,” he says.  “I’m not, uh, technically decent.”
Your eyes drop again.  The blankets only just reach his hips and when he shifts to get out of bed, it becomes abundently clear that Chan is completely naked under the covers.   You very nearly choke on your own spit, swallowing hard as your frantic eyes dart around his body.  He is seemingly oblivious to your startled state, turning his back to you as he steps out of the bed.  The sheet slips smoothly off his body.
Without thinking, you spin around to give him some privacy.  This plan fails spectacularly as his closet door is a big mirror and you end up looking at him through it. 
He is nonchalant, walking up to his dresser.  Your view is his backside but you have no complaints.  You know you shouldn’t stare, but you do, eyes on the breadth of his shoulders, the definition of his arms, going down his sturdy back to his ass where you linger a beat longer, then diving down his strong thighs until the view is blocked by his bed.   You watch him step into a pair of boxers, doing a little jump before snapping the band around his hips.  He turns around and you quickly close your eyes, grateful he cannot hear your heart going a mile a minute. 
“All right,” he says pleasantly. “All good now.  Come on.” 
He gets in the bed first and holds it open for you.  He is smiling so sweetly and you feel like the world’s nastiest horniest monster, gawping at him as you stumble to the bed.  You try not to think about how Naked Chan was laying between these sheets just moments ago.  
Somehow, you slide into the bed without making a huge fool of yourself.  You even manage to settle down, albeit stiffly.  So stiffly that Chan notices and laughs again, that same bubbly giggle as he reaches out to tweak your nose. 
“Y’okay?” he asks, his bare face so open and sweet that you melt with both affection and embarrassment. 
“Mhm,” you lie.  Your heart skips another beat when your leg brushes his under the covers. 
“C’mere, silly,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you across the bed.   You go with a squeak of surprise, planting your face in his bare chest.   “Better?” he asks.
“Mmmhf.”
With a little more shuffling, you settle again.   Chan lays on his back with one arm wrapped around you, you on your side just as snuggly holding onto him.  You rest your head on his chest, your fingers bouncing where they rest on his abdomen.   It takes a lot of effort not to start tracing the lines of his body, and even more effort not to drool all over him, but you do manage. 
Your heart is still beating quickly.  You are way too awake to just drift off.   Still, there is something cozy and safe about laying in his arms.  Even though you can’t sleep, you are content to rest in silence.  Your close your eyes and let your breathing follow the same cadence of his chest as it lifts and falls. 
You begin to slip into a drowsy, dream-like state, but you are awake enough that you feel his hand slip down your back.  It doesn’t go lower, but he touches the base of your spine and holds you a little closer to him.
“Baby girl,” he whispers.  “You awake?” 
You are lucky you don’t mewl like an overly amorous kitten.  A few little pets and a whispered name and he almost has you whimpering. 
Not trusting yourself to behave, you pretend you are fully asleep.   He just sighs, his thumb rubbing a little circle on your lower back.  You keep your eyes firmly shut the whole time. 
“I’m so fucking stupid,” he whispers.
He sounds exasperated. You don’t think it’s your fault, because he lovingly tips his head to rest it on yours.  There is another moment of silence, so you assume he was talking to himself about nothing particular, but then he releases a deep breath. 
“I told myself I was gonna talk to you tonight,” he says, still whispering and still exasperated.  “Talk to her when you meet for coffee, Chan.  Buy her favourite tea and tell her.  Tell her now, Chan, while she’s sitting on your couch.  Don’t hide in your room.  She’s hugging you, Chan, tell her now...” 
You try not to get ahead of yourself, but it sounds like your friend is grumbling his way through a love confession.  A grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.
“Does it count if I tell you while you’re sleeping?” he asks.
Yes, you think.  You massive dork.
You have no idea how one man can be so dweeby and so hot at the same time, but Chan manages it.  His hand covers your hip while his other hand brushes hair out of your face.  Is he staring at you with the same lovestruck goofiness that you looked at him?
You get your answer when he speaks again. 
“Love you, baby girl,” he says, voice gone even softer than his previous whispers.  His hand falls away and he sighs.  “Maybe you’ll, like, internalize it or something, in your sleep, yeah?  Please. ‘Cause I’m crazy about you.  I love you so much.  I’m so fucking stupid.  What am I even doing right now?  Fuck, I’m a fucking idiot.” 
You crack an eye open.  His eyes are closed and he looks incredibly pained by his performance despite thinking you didn’t even hear it.    
Joy is a bubbly thing in your chest, threatening to burst out of you with an explosion of giggles.  You restrain yourself in favour of another manouvre. 
You shift as if moving in your sleep.  Your hand slides up his chest and hooks onto his shoulder while you lift your head.  He must be looking at you because you feel a little puff of breath against your cheek. 
“Channie,” you murmur in a sleepy voice. 
“Yeah, baby, I’m here.  What’s up?” 
You blink your eyes open and hit him with the most tender, wanting expression you can muster.   He visibly swallows. 
You wrap your hand around the back of his neck, your nails scratching the way he likes.  Sometimes he just plops his head in your lap and shoves your hand somewhere up there to tickle and scratch his head.  You know what makes him happy and it causes the usual shiver of pleasure.   Combined with your steady gaze, it makes him effectively pliant.  You easily pull his head closer. 
The once impossible space between you is finally closed.  Your lips come together in a gentle, careful kiss, one that is interrupted by his sharp intake of breath.  You take in a shaky breath of your own. 
“Chan,” you whisper.  “I love you too.” 
“Oh,” he says, staring at your mouth.  “Good.  That’s good.”  He smiles when you giggle, then he brushes his nose against yours.  “Good thing.  Otherwise it would have been really awkward when I do this.” 
He rolls over you, kissing you with such ardor that you feel as if you are melting into his sheets.  You hum sweetly against his lips as he gathers your hands to pin them by your head.  When he licks into your mouth, you arch against him and make him moan. Your knees cradle his hips as he settles against you.  
His head falls to the crook of your neck where he kisses you softly. 
“Chan,” you say, a breathy sound.  You wrap your arms around his neck. 
“Yeah, baby girl,” he says.  He kisses under your jaw, your cheek, then your mouth again.  “I got you,” he says. 
Knowing it’s true, you smile into the next kiss. 
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chaepink · 1 year ago
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DAY 31: A HOUSEHUSBAND'S DUTY | RIMMING
after coming home from a hard day at work, your househusband surprises you by wearing a maid outfit. though he's annoyed that you're late so how about you bend him over the kitchen counter and eat him out to make up for it?
⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ PAIRING ⸻ househusband!nanami kento x reader
⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WARNINGS ⸻ dom!gn!reader, nanami in a maid dress, rimming, alternate universe, teasing, pet names, kitchen sex, fingering (m receiving), anal play, praise, edging
⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ WORDS ⸻ 2k words
KINKTOBER EVENT
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Weight gets lifted off your shoulder the moment you walk into your place, the delicious scent of dinner hitting your nose and making you let out a hum. You immediately recognize it as your favorite meal.
Even since you and Nanami chose to get away from the magical world together and start someplace new, its been the best choice you two have made ever since. Nanami had offered to stay at home and take care of the shared house as you work and support the two of you. And lets just say that his cooking is some of the best you've ever tasted.
You quickly take off your jacket and shoes to make your way to the kitchen where the smell is coming from and a smile appears on your face at the thought of seeing your husband after such a long day at work. You had stayed at work for an hour and a half longer than usual due to technical difficulties and traffic but after getting through it all, you hurried back home to see your darling.
Though when you turn the corner into the kitchen, you stop in your tracks, your eyes immediately widening at the sight: Nanami is wearing a fucking maid dress.
"You're late." He mumbles without looking at you but you can still just barely see his flushed face. You rapidly blink to make sure you're not seeing it wrong as your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes roaming the back of his figure. The frilly black and white dress adorned with lace seems a couple sizes too small for him, the material tight against his skin and hugging him in all the right places. The short dress stops a little below his ass, barely covering the plump skin and sure to rise up if he bends down (or over). Black puffy sleeves adorn the dress and add to the overall cuteness of it.
The thought of dinner has left your mind the second you stepped into the kitchen and something else has taken your attention instead.
"Are you... wearing a maid dress for me, Nanami?" Though the answer is obvious, he doesn't answer your question and instead lets out a huff. You suddenly realize he's annoyed at your late timing and you chuckle.
You walk towards him and wrap your arms around his chest, playing with the adorable lace and buttons on the front. "Sorry for being late today. There were some difficulties at work, you know? Though you in a maid dress certainly takes my mind off that." He still refuses to look at you. You sigh at his pettiness as your hands slowly trail down his down, feeling his defined body under the thin material of the dress. They make their way down his exposed thighs and squeeze them, relishing in the way Nanami freezes and stops adding ingredients to the pot.
"Could I make it up to you, baby?" You tilt your head sideways to take a view at the flushed face behind his glasses and you grin when he finally glances at you with a hint of neediness in his eyes.
You can't help but go under the maid dress and grope his ass, loving the way Nanami lets out a gasp that turns into a small moan.
"Turn around for me." Nanami slowly does and avoids your eye contact and how the look in your eyes screams 'i just want to rip it off.' The buttons on the front seem almost as if they're about to pop off due to the size of Nanami's chest in the dress but it just looks so good like that. Now that he's facing you, you can finally see him in all his glory. Especially the bulge against his skirt that Nanami just prays in his head that you don't see or pay attention to.
"Already hard, hm?" You laugh at the way Nanami covers his face and groans. Seeing a 6 foot man who just looks so serious and stern all the time dressed in a little maid dress outfit—while its something you never would have expected—has your mouth watering. "Don't worry," you say, getting closer to him. Your body presses against his and you harshly grab his chin to look at you.
"I think it's rather cute." You begin to feel him grind his bulge against you and you quickly pull away from his body, making Nanami reach out to grab you but you slap his hands away, shaking your head. "No touching."
Leading him to a nearby free counter after turning the stove off, your hands begin to roam his body even more. Your rough groping and squeezing leaves Nanami breathless and hot underneath the outfit.
"All this for me? You sure do love spoiling me, honey." He lets out a grunt when you turn him around and push his body on top of the cold surface of the counter, his nipples immediately hardening. His face is pressed against the surface as his breaths become ragged.
"H-Hurry up, [name]." You chuckle at his eagerness. Though your husband is usually always quiet, stern, and serious, you love it when he becomes needy around you and when he surprises you with stuff like this.
The maid dress rises up his ass, giving you a full view of his ass as well as the pair of white lacy panties he's wearing.
"Holy shit."
Though you didn't prepare for the panties, you're certainly not complaining. A hand goes to the hem and lifts it off his skin before letting it snap against his hip. Nanami lets out a whimper at the feeling and your rough touches.
"I never thought you would look this good in a maid dress. I definitely should've asked you to wear one ages ago." You let out a small chuckle. Nanami turns his head to say something back, probably a sarcastic retort, but a squeeze of his ass again shuts him right up.
You pull down his panties to reveal a butt plug in his hole. Surprise after surprise leaves you eager to ruin him even more but a little teasing never hurts anyone.
"Already prepped, hm?" He quickly nods.
Nanami shivers when he feels your fingers grip the plug, slowly pulling it out at such an agonizing pace. When it's halfway out, you push it back in, making him let out a moan, his back slightly arched at the feeling. You keep doing it for a while and Nanami quickly becomes impatient.
"J-Just take it out already." He glares at you but the glare lacks any real threat. After all, you're the one in control and he doesn't look very threatening when he's bent over a counter in a maid dress with a butt plug in him. Nanami realizes that quickly and looks away.
You tsk at his bratty behavior. "I don't think you're in the position to be giving me commands, darling. Not when you're the one about to get your ass eaten too." Nanami chokes on his spit at your blunt words.
However, you decide that you've done enough teasing and pull the plug out of his hole, leaving him to squeeze around nothing and left feeling empty.
But the empty feeling leaves and the feeling of being full returns when you shove two fingers in him and immediately curl them, hitting the spot in him that makes pre cum splurt out of his hardened dick and onto the floor. You feel him grind against your fingers in fervor and you add another finger, stretching him out even more than the plug did. You still feel the lube he used meaning he must've prepped himself only a couple hours ago.
"S-Shit ngh g-go deeper..." You plunge your fingers deeper into him. His glasses fog up from his heavy breathing as your movements quickly make him fall apart in front of you. But before he could warn you that he's about to cum, you take your fingers out.
He groans in displeasure at you and you just smile. "I can't just be fingering you the entire time, can I?" You get on your knees and leave a teasing kiss on his cheeks. You give his ass a light slap before spreading them apart, revealing his twitching hole to you, making Nanami's dick twitch. "Though I'm sure you would still enjoy it."
He feels your intense gaze on his behind and his face flushes as he grumbles at you. "Q-Quit staring and get on with it." You roll your eyes. "So eager," you mumble under your breath.
Nanami practically melts against the counter when he feels your tongue begin to circle his rim, a groan bubbling out of his throat. You notice his knuckles begin to turn white from how hard he gripping the shelf above him.
Your tongue teases him as it continues to circle the outside before catching him off guard and pushing your tongue inside. It goes in easily due to the plug and your fingering earlier and Nanami lets out a high pitched whimper that certainly doesn't fit his appearance.
"O-Oh God..."
You hum at the taste of him and as your tongue goes deeper inside him, you feel Nanami slowly grind against it, eager for more. The harsh grip your hands have on his ass will surely leave red nail marks on his ass afterward but you've learned that Nanami is a fan of the marks you leave on his body and sometimes even begs you to leave them.
Now that the pleasure finally got to his head, he's gone rather quiet and isn't talking as much, only the sound of his groans and whimpers filling the room. The lewd, sinful wet sounds of your tongue in his ass makes his mind go mushy. It's so dirty but the thought only makes him grind against you even more. He feels his legs begin to shake and he could only let out a cry when one of your hands goes to his hardened dick and begin to pump it. His pre cum leaks out of his dick and onto the floor, making a mess on it.
The pleasure from your tongue and your hand on his dick makes his back arch as he subconsciously pushes his ass up in the air. The kitchen quickly feels too hot as your clothes cling to your skin. Your hands speed up on his dick, wanting to quickly bring Nanami to his release. Your hands bunch the material of his maid dress up his back as your hands grip his hips to push him closer to your face.
When your tongue hits a spot in him that makes his eyes roll and toes curl, Nanami doesn't have enough time to tell you that he's about to cum as his release hits him like a tidal wave, a loud moan erupting from his throat.
Nanami slumps against the kitchen counter as his orgasm sends shocks up his spine and his dick makes a mess underneath him and on the cabinet in front of him. Some end up on his skirt and you can't help but think how sinful Nanami looks with his dick out, maid dress wrinkled and soiled, and cum underneath him.
His breaths are ragged as he tries to recompose himself from his intense orgasm. His half-lidded, hazy gaze turns to meet yours when you stand back up. He sends you a half-glare half-pout look with his face full on red when you choose to lick your lips at him, grinning at his state.
Your hands suddenly make their way up his body and when you bend over to murmur in his ear the warm feeling of your breath sends shivers up his spine. "Shall we take this upstairs?" Without wasting a second to think about the dinner that needs to be made, Nanami nods.
It's safe to say that dinner was long forgotten but who cares when you have an appetite for entirely something else.
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note: day 31! ugh it went so fast and now my first kinktober is over already :') happy halloween to those who celebrate it!
🏷️ : @Vealize21 @fabitheraven @sourissue @jksstuffposts @gallantys @tired-of-life-86 @ineedsleeporilldie @aphoneixnamed-angel @flawlessvictorymentality @wowonamo @euphiroo @saintravey @tomiokx @archer-fb @d1gitalbathh @Lifesucksweswallow @rxflen @aspengagrimlin @ilovemenwhowhimperandbeg @deffnotstarguys @laraleafs @lamees004 @literary-latte @cl-0-vr @qweenjx @katebaku7710 @yenakwyl @katsuslover @mysicklove @fairyvibez @someonepleasesedateme @arminsesposa
2K notes · View notes
nubisaureus · 2 years ago
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how they react when you slip out of their arms
how the genshin boys react when you try to get out of their arms in bed because it's hot
character(s): Tighnari, Diluc, Zhongli
pairing(s): fem!reader x Tighnari, Diluc, Zhongli (separately)
content: fluff, established relationship, clinginess, cuddles, sleeping in the same bed, silliness, a touch of angst, suggestive language?
a/n: please bear with me, I'm still trying to find a formatting that I like, as I'm very new on this site. So my apologies if the posts are formatted differently every time!
It's also my first time writing for Tighnari and Zhongli, so please let me know what you think <3
not proofread
That being said, enjoy!✼ 
┍━━━━━━━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━━━━━━━┑
Tighnari
It had been a hot day. Not in the way one may be thinking of though. Hot as in, scorching hot. The sun had been mercilessly beating down in the Avidya Forest, resulting in a humid weather that had been sucking the absolute life out of you.
One would also think that the night would be cooler, and technically, it was, if it wasn't for your boyfriend's tail, wrapped around you as an almost third arm, mimicking his actual arms that were hugging you close, making you sweat because of the weather.
You carefully slipped out of the hug, finally breathing some fresh air, and slightly moved out of Tighnari's reach, desperately looking for the colder side of your pillow.
«Mh...?» Tighnari's groan suddenly alerted you, and that was soon followed by his tail wiggling around, only to curl around air.
«[name]?» he called, still half lidded.
You freaked out: you didn't want to tell him the truth, so you pondered whether to pretend to be asleep or confess.
He opened his eyes, staring at you.
«Oh, there you are.» perking up at the sight of you, he kept staring. «Is.. everything alright?» he then continued, concern finding its way on his features.
You looked away, ashamed.
He gently grabbed your chin, redirecting your gaze towards him. «Hey. Talk to me. What happened?» he continued, even more concerned.
You sighed, not able to bear his concerned face. «I..was just hot, Nari. Your tail is very warm, and it's lovely in winter, but in this season..it's rather uncomfortable. I'm sorry.»
He sighed. «You could've just told me, you know.» and moved his tail out of the way, putting it behind his back. The bed now felt much cooler, and you felt like you could breathe again.
He then looked at you, dead serious.
«What is it now???» you were on the defensive.
«You're obligated to cuddle now.» he said with the best poker face you had ever seen.
You gasped at how he could look so serious while saying the silliest stuff, and got closer to him.
His arms sneaked their way back to your waist, and you rested your head on his chest, inhaling his scent, that was so familiar to you by now, yet so foreign at the same time.
«Goodnight sleepyhead.» he kissed your hair.
«Goodnight, Nari.»
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Diluc
Despite Mondstadt being the city of the wind, it seemed like Lord Barbatos hadn't been very benevolent on his citizens as of lately. And that came in the form of hot wind that, combined with the hot weather of the season, had led to many restless nights.
Tonight was no different. Despite the bed being more comfortable than the one at the Knight's Headquarters, Diluc's presence made falling asleep an arduous task.
Not only because you had been staring at him for the past 10 minutes or so, his relaxed face a sight that you wanted to cherish as much as possible, but the connection he had with the Pyro element made him rather unfit for the current weather.
It also didn't help that he had forgotten to take his Vision off, and so he was even more in contact with the Pyro energy imbued within it, and you couldn't do anything about it. (a/n i have this headcanon where only the owner of a Vision can freely move their Vision around).
You were uncomfortable. Actually, uncomfortable couldn't even begin to describe it.
What to do..?
His arms were tightly wrapped around you, as if he was afraid to lose you any second, but you couldn't take the heat anymore, so you carefully slipped out of his arms, standing up and stretching your body.
You walked all the way towards the open window facing the beautiful vineyards of Dawn Winery, letting the cool breeze of the night caress your features. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the quiet atmosphere all around you.
After a few moments though, you heard rustling coming from behind you.
«[Name]? [Name]! Where are you?» the slight panic in Diluc's tone alarming you, you rushed back to the bed.
«Diluc. I'm here.» you climbed onto the bed, making your way to his side once again. He held you close, and you could feel his pounding heartbeat calming down.
«You scared me, [name]. Why are you up so late?» he inquired.
You blushed, your cheeks threatening to become redder than his hair.
«I was..hot. You forgot to take your Vision off last night, and I obviously can't do it in your stead. But you looked so peaceful, I couldn't find the courage in me to wake you up. I'm sorry..» you looked at him, his expression turning into one of guilt, only to turn soft as you finished speaking.
He took his Vision off, setting it on the bedside table.
«I'm sorry I forgot to take my Vision off, love. Next time though, wake me up. I don't want you to overheat and potentially pass out, especially in this hot weather, okay?» he looked at you, waiting for a confirmation that you had received and understood his words.
«Alright. I will. I promise.» he smiled gently, opening his arms again, beckoning for you to claim your place back.
You gladly took the bait, and snuggled closer, his temperature now that of a normal human being.
«Feeling better?» he asked, gently stroking your hair.
«Yes. Much better.» and you kissed him goodnight.
──────────────────────────────
Zhongli
It was a hot night in Liyue. Despite the rooms at Wangshu Inn being decently ventilated, you were feeling hot. Zhongli's massive body wrapped around you wasn't helping either.
You tried to wiggle around, but your boyfriend, true to his archon element, had a rock hard grip on you, and so you were effectively caught in his embrace.
You sighed.
«Zhongli..» you whispered, trying to wake him up so he would let go.
No answer.
«Zhongli.» you called further, a little louder this time, and his eyelids finally fluttered, signaling he had at least heard something.
You called him again, finally catching his attention, getting rewarded with his half lidded amber eyes looking at you.
«Yes, dearest?» his groggy voice sent shivers down your spine, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts, but you quickly got a hold of yourself.
«I'm too hot. Could you move a bit please?» you asked, getting rewarded with a giggle.
«But of course. You should've said that sooner, dear. Maybe you should also take a shower to cool down? This temperature is very demanding of one's body.»
You looked at him, confused.
«But I had a shower before bed, and besides, I'm not dirty, I don't want to waste water.»
He smiled mischievously, and abruptly changed your positions, pinning you down on the bed.
«Oh, we can change that rather quickly.»
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bayjaruchel · 1 year ago
Text
Strawberry Blond
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Pairing: Peeta Mellark/AFAB Reader
Rating: Explicit
Summary: Late one night, you get a call. (4.7k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )
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You know that your relationship can never be normal. 
Even now, when you technically should have peace of mind— and you're out of the arena, out of the Games— there's still the ugly truth that lies beneath it all. The Victor's Village is beautiful in comparison to the rest of District Twelve, but because of the reason why you earned a residence here, you're not sure if you'll ever truly enjoy it. Brick houses with plenty of room, and yet yours is still far too empty, even if you have your family to keep you company. 
Peeta lives alone in his. 
There's always smoke coming from the chimney, and he keeps most, if not all of the lights on. The only room that occasionally has its lights off is his, which is on the second floor. You've woken up in the middle of the night many times and glimpsed the shining evidence that he's still awake. It's not like you get perfect sleep yourself— but you worry, sometimes. 
You do visit him, sometimes. But you've never knocked on his door when it's nighttime. You're not entirely sure why that is; maybe it's because you're afraid of what the cool silence will bring. Maybe it's too intimate. Neither of you are strangers to intimacy, and you've definitely maintained a little of that, but … There's still a certain distance. Away from the cameras, you still struggle to discern what's real and what's not. 
The way he looks at you is certainly real. 
You don't know if you'll ever feel exactly the same way towards him. 
Sure, you do like him. A lot. He makes it easy. He's the type of guy that you could bring home to your parents. He's the type of guy that one would want to come home to every day. Of course, he's a little more reserved, and his eyes are duller, but— he's still Peeta. He's still the baker's boy. Deep down, he'll never lose what made you— and all of the Capitol— fall in love with him. 
Is it really love, though? Or is it just admiration? 
It's something that you think about a lot. You've never said those three words to him when not in front of an audience. And he knows that on those specific occasions, it wasn't real. It was just an act. Maybe when he kissed you, he wasn't acting. Maybe when he looked at you and said those lovely things to you, he wasn't acting. 
You can dream. You can hope. 
However, most of your actual dreams nowadays are just nightmares.  
No golden boy is holding you, shielding you from the awful weather. There's no bright, happy future in which everything turned out right. And there's none of those strange, albeit interesting dreams where your house is upside down and your teacher at school is telling you that somehow, you've suddenly graduated and you're being sent off to the Capitol to become one of them. 
Instead, there's just fire. 
Tonight, you dream of fire. 
Burning bodies that fall from the highest trees. You can vaguely make out who they are— there's a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach, a primal guilt. Everything around you is blazing, and you know you should try and get out, but your feet are frozen, rooted to the spot. You can't move, even as the flames begin to lick around your ankles. Even if you did run, you wouldn't be able to escape. This has been a long time coming, hasn't it? 
Despite the almost blinding brightness emanating from the fire, everything else is foggy and dark. The only thing you can focus on is the corpses, the trees, and everything coming down around you. Someone shouts your name, but it's muffled like you're underwater. You fail to register it fast enough. 
A scream, crystal-clear. 
You whip around, and there it is. The evidence of your failure. You're helpless to do anything— you can only watch— more screaming, more yelling, more pleads for help— 
There is so, so much blood— 
You're awake, and the blistering heat is gone. 
Gasping, you sit up, struggling for breath. It keeps catching in your throat. Your heart's pounding at a pace that makes your head spin. Dizzy, disorienting. But it used to be worse than this. 
At least you don't wake up sobbing anymore. 
This is still awful, though. Trembling, you wrap your arms around yourself, attempting to regain control. In, out. In, out. Your lungs shudder with the effort, but you keep going. Despite the comfortable warmth of the house, there's still goosebumps prickling up and down your bare skin. Your arms. Your neck. The sheets are tangled around your waist and legs; you almost feel trapped. 
There's no point in closing the curtains, since virtually nobody is in the streets, and the other inhabitants of the Village couldn't possibly look through your windows. When you glance out of the one nearest to your bed, it's almost pitch-black outside. There are no street lamps, after all. You try to focus on the cold, empty houses to distract yourself. 
Finally, your breath slows. Your pulse calms. 
You're still shaking, faintly, but your knees don't give out when you detangle yourself from your blankets and slip out of bed. You consider that a minor victory. 
Taking care not to make too much noise, you head downstairs. The polished stone is cold underneath your feet, but it's grounding, in a way. It settles you back down to earth. For a short while, you frequently lost your way due to the sheer size of the house, but now you know the quickest route to the kitchen by heart. Even when half-asleep, you know exactly where to go. 
The light flicks on with a quiet buzz when you gently press the switch. 
Quietly, you wonder if the ultimate prize for winning the Games was running water. It's cold, as it splashes over your fingers and into the basin. There are plenty of pristine, artisan glasses and whatnot in the overhead cabinets— probably made in District One— but you always reach for the mugs you had before. The ones with a couple of cracks and dents littering their bodies— evidence of their long lifespans. 
You lean against the counter as you take a long gulp of water. It's pleasant, the feeling pooling low in your chest. 
The silence used to be unnerving, but now, you welcome it with open arms. 
You take another, smaller sip from your mug. Maybe you'll be able to sleep for another few hours. Until the sun rises, at least. Then, you can take a walk. You can wander around all you like here, provided that you don't stray too far. Regardless, you're sure nobody will be too concerned about that. Haymitch is the sole man responsible for the lax rules concerning the victors. 
You're still not sure if you like him or not. 
Slowly, you finish your drink. But, just as you're ready to set it into the sink and head back upstairs—
—the phone's ringing. 
You can hear it pretty clearly, even if it's muffled. 
Who could be calling at this hour? Furrowing your brow, you put down the mug and start heading down the hallway, towards the study. You're well aware that Haymitch tore his phone out of the wall ages ago, so it couldn't be him. Nobody from your District calls you, either. And if you get any calls from outside the District, they're usually during the daytime. Not at two-ish in the morning. The Capitol may be invasive, but they're not that invasive. They need their beauty rest, you figure.  
So, taking all of that into consideration, that only leaves— 
"Peeta?" You mutter, upon picking up the phone. 
There's a beat of silence. 
"Hello," he replies. 
It's a bit hard to tell over the line, but he sounds nearly as groggy as you. Delicately, you shut the door of the study behind you with a quiet click. Just in case. 
"Is something wrong?" You allow yourself to be a little louder, now that there's a barrier between you and the rest of the house. "Couldn't sleep?" 
"Something like that." There's a slight rustling. "I mean— nothing new, right?" Even though you know he meant it as a joke, the grim truth makes it fall flat. 
Still, you breathe out a quiet laugh. "Nothing's changed." Affixing your gaze on one of the chairs sitting around the mahogany table, you fiddle with the telephone cord. "Did you, uh— did you need something, though?" 
Peeta hesitates again. 
"I just—" He cuts himself off. "I'm sorry for calling you so late." He's entirely earnest in a way that makes you ache. "Did I wake you up?" 
He's also dodging the question, even if he is genuinely worried about your sleep schedule. 
"No, you didn't," you assert, "don't worry about that. It's fine." 
"Okay," he responds, relief palpable despite the crackly quality. 
The telephone cord is somewhat cold where it rests on your knuckles. You continue to twist it around your idle hand. 
"You still haven't answered my question, by the way."  
Peeta audibly exhales. 
"Oh." More rustling. "Yeah. I, um—" he clears his throat, "—yeah, I do need something, actually." 
That could mean a lot of things. Does he just need to talk? You know he does, sometimes. Or maybe he just needs some more flour, and is too embarrassed to admit it. He does seem like the type of guy to stress-bake in the wee hours of the morning. However, you seriously doubt that he wants anything related to that. 
"What is it?" You ask, finally. 
His next words are rushed, as if he's afraid that if he says them slowly, he'll never get them out. 
"Could you come over? I just—" it's only a momentary gap, "—don't wanna be alone right now." 
Ah. 
The thing is, you understand. You know what it's like. And there's only one possible response that you can give right now. Vividly, you can see him— the cave—  his face, shining with a cold sweat, his eyes scrunched tightly in pain— 
"Okay." You're already mentally mapping out where to go. "I'll be there in a few." 
-- 
When he opens the door, Peeta looks exhausted. 
But when he smiles at you, there's still that light in his eyes. That look he gets whenever you're around. It used to make you feel sick to your stomach, but now— now, you're not quite sure how to feel. You've been told that in comparison to him, you're rather good at keeping your feelings hidden underneath the surface. It's been necessary, after all. 
"You're here," he says after a beat, as if he expected anything else. 
"I'm here," you echo. 
Wordlessly, he steps aside to let you pass by. Somehow, although the layout of his house is exactly the same as yours, his still feels different. Warmer. A little cozier. The remnants of something sweet are still floating through the air, and you glance back at him. Maybe you were right about the possibility of him making cookies— or apple turnovers. Or those little cakes. 
"Been baking?" You ask. 
"Earlier," he clarifies, shutting the door behind you. 
"Smells nice." 
Peeta lingers by your side. "Want some?" 
"If that's okay." 
"It's always been okay." He raises his eyebrows. "How many times have I told you that you don't even need to ask?" 
You shoot him a look. "Doesn't hurt to ask." 
Flawlessly, he copies your expression. "How do you know that?" 
"It's called being polite, Peeta." 
"Polite," he repeats. "Polite…" 
You let out a short sigh. 
"Just show me where they are." 
He gives you a shit-eating grin. "And there it is." 
You don't even bother trying to respond; he's already padding past you, anyway. It's a short trip to the kitchen. His is more cluttered than yours— recently-used, more lived-in. There are more dishes in the sink, more stuff on the counter. But your eyes are drawn to the two wire baking racks on the stovetop. On top of them sit around two dozen pastries. They're prettily decorated with pink, blue, and white icing, and you take some time to admire them as you join him in front of the stove. 
"You've outdone yourself," you can't help but murmur. "Wow." 
At your compliment, Peeta instantly turns bashful. 
"Oh, thanks." Of course, he can't let those words sit. "It's— it's not my best work, but I—" 
His volume drops, and he pauses. 
"Well— my hands were shaking, so…"
Abruptly, you turn your attention away from the pastries. 
He notices, interrupting you before you can even open your mouth to speak. 
"I know what you're gonna ask," he says, softly. "And, yeah, I do want to talk about it. Just—" Peeta sucks in a breath. "Just not now, okay? Give it a little while." The corner of his mouth quirks up, and he gestures towards the racks. 
"Eat." 
You consider pressing the question. You consider urging him— did it happen again? Was it worse this time? It had to have been worse, considering that he wanted you over in the first place. Just thinking about it makes your stomach perform an uneasy flip. You can read Peeta. And right now, you can read the bags under his eyes. The tiredness he's trying to fight away. 
However, you don't want to push him. You don't want to break him down. Not again. 
So, you take a pastry. 
It's really, very good. 
Peeta takes one for himself, too, and you eat in silence. You know that despite your frequent approval of his various baked goods, he's still carefully watching your reaction; you make sure to look pleased, and it isn't hard at all. He seems satisfied. You're also satisfied. Once you've finished your pastry, you lick the remnants of the icing off your fingers. 
You pretend not to notice the way he stares— briefly, before forcing his gaze away. 
You pretend to ignore the way your heart skips. 
Mercifully, he breaks the awkward tension. 
 "Do you— would you want to take some home?" He asks, after swallowing. "We both know that I'm not gonna eat 'em all." 
"Oh, yeah, I'll take some," you answer. Thinking for a second, you add, "Were you going to risk bringing some to Haymitch, or—" 
He snorts. "Not this time." 
"More for me, then." 
"And your family, you mean?" 
You smile. There's no way that you're going to give up those pastries without a fight. 
"Sure. And my family."
Peeta doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he returns your smile all the same. 
-- 
He always keeps his bedroom windows open at night. 
You're not exactly sure why, but you suppose it's because he runs warm. Always. 
The duvet's soft on your bare skin, and his hands are gentle. With the way your head is positioned, if you move your ear just so, you can hear his heartbeat thumping through his chest. A steady rhythm. He's calm, and so are you. You're certain that you could fall asleep like this— if it weren't for the fact that you have other, more important priorities right now. 
When you look up at him, shifting an increment closer, he talks. 
"I thought things were getting better." His Adam's apple bobs as you watch. "I thought that— that things were gonna start improving. That I'd— " He trails off, for a second. 
"That I'd start going back to normal, I guess. But I should've known that it's… It's impossible." His gaze is focused on the ceiling. "It was hopeless to try and believe that I could just keep on going like nothing happened at all." 
You find your voice. 
"But you still tried?" 
The chuckle he lets out is completely humorless. 
"Yeah, I tried." 
He's always been optimistic— he's always trying to see the best in people. And seeing him like this makes you feel hopeless. You know what he's going through. It's essentially the same thing that you're going through. However, it's not like you can read minds. He knows the right words to say, but you don't. Even though you wish you could. Words— even though actions can speak louder than them— still mean a lot. You turn that word over in your head a couple of times. Actions. 
"What happened?" You ask, quietly. 
 A beat. 
"I let down my guard," he starts, volume barely a whisper. "I was confident in my stability. I thought that I wouldn't— break down, or anything. Because it had been a few weeks, and—" 
His eyes shut. Tightly. "God, I'm stupid." 
"You're not," you rush to interject, "don't say that." 
Peeta lets out another huff. "But it was stupid. To assume that I'd be okay, I mean. I should've— I should've expected it, at least." He quickly carries on. "Even after everything, I still let myself fall into a routine." 
I still let myself fall back into a routine, you know what he means. The bad dreams pale in comparison to the real monsters that loom over the both of you. Haymitch is a living example of what can happen; what will happen, if you don't hold on to tight control of the hypothetical reins. You ache. 
"Don't blame yourself for any of this," you murmur, "please. It's not your fault. Not in the slightest." You have to speak slowly, pace yourself. Keep yourself from everything you want to say. "Even if you tried to— I don't know, stay hyper-aware of everything— it would still come crashing down eventually." A breath. "It's inevitable, Peeta. It's always going to be here." 
"But I don't want it to be here," he chokes out, "I really, really don't!" 
You push yourself up from your previous position. His eyes are open now, wide and looking up at you. 
When you move backward and open your arms, he's on you in an instant. 
You rock back and forth, gently. You're not sure which one of you is holding onto the other tighter. Clinging would be a better word. His face is pressed firmly into your shoulder. You can feel him shaking. 
Despite everything, he won't let himself make any noise when he cries. 
You don't know how long you stay like this. It could be minutes. Hours, even. All you can feel and register is him. Peeta. He's trembling. The barely-there sensation, combined with the undeniable tightness of his arms. His hands. It's almost like he thinks that if he loosens his hold, even by just the slightest fraction, you'll suddenly disappear. 
That you'll cease to exist. 
That you'll become not real.  
When you finally draw back— slowly, tentatively, and only because he does it first— 
He sniffs, eyes red. They're not brimming with unshed tears, but they're still wet. You can't help but thumb away what little remains on his lower lids, even though you know that you probably look about the same. 
Peeta returns the gesture. 
Unlike you, though, he lingers, hand dropping to cup your cheek. 
There's a moment. 
You've done this before, of course. You've held each other. Comforted each other, brought each other back down. But since the end of the Games— since you've gotten away from the clamoring audiences desperate for a romance despite the sick circumstances— you haven't done anything more than that. 
You haven't kissed him since the end of the Games. 
But right now, you realize that you want to. More than anything. Anyone could see that Peeta wants it, too. Maybe even more than you do. 
So, when he leans in— just barely— closing the distance— 
It's practiced, at first. Familiar. Almost nostalgic. 
But then he melts, and it's suddenly something completely different.  
Peeta lets you softly maneuver him down onto the mattress, up against the pillows that are still too soft for your liking. He kisses you in the way those terrible poets describe— it's all excessively large bouquets, a clear starry night, longing looks across a crowded room, and—  
It's real. 
He gives. You take, and exchange it for everything you have in return. His hand stays on your cheek, the other behind your head, pulling you down. He kisses you like he needs it to breathe. You lose yourself in the feeling. Whenever you part, it's only out of necessity, and you're soon leaning back in. You're making up for lost time— you're making up for every action you didn't mean, every word that was too sugary-sweet. 
Soon, your kisses grow deeper. And neither of you wants to stop. 
It's only when his hands are trailing down your body, down to the hem of your shirt, that you bother addressing it. Even if you want this— so, so desperately— you don't want to force anything in a situation that doesn't require it. Just kissing is nice. It's very nice. Nice enough that it takes a little while for you to regain control of your mouth. 
"Is this—" 
—and he's already speaking. Hushed, like you. 
"Please." 
It's almost embarrassing, what that single word does to you. But you barrel on. 
"It's okay?" You ask, "Just say if it's not, and I'll stop—" 
"—I just," Peeta visibly struggles with what to say for a moment, before settling on: 
"Need you," he says. "Please." 
It's more than enough, and you're in no place to deny him for much longer. You recapture his lips, welcoming his touch. His hands on your back, then your waist, then your hips again. His grip is firm, but not overly so. He would never hurt you, after all. Especially not here. Especially after what he's witnessed. 
His hands are warm and calloused on your bare skin. Strong, with all the work he's done since he was old enough to knead dough. You have to sit up in order to take off your nightshirt, and he takes the opportunity to do the same with his. You've already seen him shirtless, and at close proximity, too— but it wasn't like this. You couldn't trail over every little detail with your lips, back then. 
Peeta shivers, letting out a short giggle when you press a kiss to his stomach. He's sturdy, that's for sure. Impressive biceps, a toned chest. He's beautiful, and you tell him so. You think he blushes, but it's difficult to say for certain from your position. You're too focused on finding all the little freckles you can. 
He likes it when you kiss his neck, breath audibly hitching when you do so. 
But even though he lets you entertain yourself for a decent while, he makes sure to return the favor. He's never liked being in the spotlight for long, after all. And he wants. 
He finds all of your scars, from the arena. From before the arena, too. He maps them out, painstakingly, mimicking the way you'd kissed him all over earlier. Sensitive, he notes, when you make a small noise when his thumbs find your nipples. Soft, he observes, as his fingers slip underneath your waistband, moving lower. 
Soon, you're completely exposed, and he is too. 
Peeta pays more attention to certain parts of you— your thighs, your chest— but he doesn't skip over anything in particular. He wants to know everything; he wants to learn everything. And he's eager to learn. By the time he reaches the spot between your legs, you're already wanting for him. You've grown needy from his kisses, his caresses. You can feel him against your thigh— he's just as needy as you. 
His fingers are clumsy, at first. But they're strong, and you guide him. One, then two. Then another. His breath is loud, and he hums, biting his lower lip at your quiet moan after you tell him how to crook his fingers. You jolt when he finds your clit, paying careful attention to it while he works you open. 
At your whispered insistence, he grips himself by the base— already having put on protection— you don't care enough to ask exactly how he obtained it— and he pushes in. The groan he lets out sounds like it's been punched from his gut. 
He sets a slow, measured pace. Almost awkward at first, but he's a fast learner. He learns what angle makes you spread your legs wider for him. You wouldn't even use fucking to describe what you're doing— somehow, that word's too rough. He kisses you, nose bumping against yours. Most of your noises are muffled against his lips, but he takes them all the same. He absorbs them, and drinks them in. Drinks you in. 
"Peeta," you sigh, and he breathes your name in return, before ducking to kiss your shoulder. Your collarbone. Your neck. 
He comes first, twitching, pulsing deep within you. He stifles his whimper by tucking his face into the divot between your shoulder and your neck— but you can still feel it. You help him ride it out, until his thrusts falter, and his hips still. 
It's a few moments of limbo, in which he catches his breath. He meets your eyes. His are hazy, half-lidded. He kisses you. 
Then, he pulls out— disposes of the garbage, of course— and wastes no time in making his way down your body, to where you need him most. 
You're certain that he's never eaten anybody out before, but he's a natural. He's enthusiastic— much more so than when he was inside you. This is just for your pleasure, now. When you thread a hand through his tousled hair, he moans into you, increasing his efforts tenfold. He doesn't care for the mess— or the noise, as he laps at you. He doesn't even care for his own need to breathe. Peeta just wants to give. 
His brow is furrowed in concentration as he rapidly pulls you closer to orgasm. You can do little but take. And when you finally topple over your peak— 
"—that's so good, ah— Peeta, I'm gonna— ohh—" 
You cry out, heat rolling low in your abdomen— gathering, passing through your entire body. 
You float on blissful waves, and he licks at you through it all. For a single, brief moment, your mind is perfectly calm. 
When you relax, the warmth steadying to a hum, he notices and stops working at you. He wriggles a little, and leans forward to rest his chin on your stomach while you catch your breath. You can feel his, too, and it's hot on your skin. Peeta seems reluctant to take his eyes off you just yet. 
It's quiet, you register. You're reluctant to ruin it, but he looks pretty messy. 
"I should get you a towel or something," you say. 
He cracks a smile, his eyes softening. "Should you?" 
"Yeah." You're powerless not to return it. "But, you know, for me to get the towel, you have to get off me." 
"So demanding." 
You let out a short, offended sound. "Hey, that's just—" 
"I'm getting up." And he does. 
It doesn't take long to clean up, and the obnoxious white fluorescent lights of the bathroom don't blind you for long. Again, Peeta looks on while you wipe off his face— this close, you notice how brilliantly blue his eyes are. You notice the precise angles of his jaw. His cheek. He's probably doing the same to you— tracing the contours of your face. 
To your relief, you're back in his bed a few minutes later. He completely shuts off the lights, flicking off his bedside lamp, and then crawls under the duvet with you. You're not sure if it's creepy or weird to enjoy it, but everything here smells like him. A sort of earthy, warm scent. Even though you're both well aware of the multiple floral shampoos that the Capitol has to offer— he still retains that one thing. 
You're comfortable. You're safe. 
Peeta wraps his arms around you from behind. 
You're not sure if you should say something or not, but he does it first. 
"You'll stay?" Whispered, into the stillness. 
"Of course." Without hesitation. 
His grip tightens, almost imperceptibly. 
"Thank you," he breathes.  
The words are stuck in your throat. 
You can't bring yourself to say them, even though you know you'd mean them. Every single syllable. 
But you have time. You can tell him tomorrow, even. Or the day after that. Tonight, you didn't say it aloud, but you still told him all the same. 
You understand exactly how you feel, just before you drift off. 
You love him. 
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em1989ts · 1 month ago
Text
𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒑𝒕. 3
five hargreeves x reader
word count: 2.4k
part one. part two. part three.
summary: you head back to the academy with your timeline's five in order to save the world, in hopes that once this is all over, you can run back to max's delicatessan.
author's note: i tried to post this on oct 1st for five's birthday but i'm an hour late lol. but that's it for across the universe! thank you to everyone who left a comment or reblogged i appreciate it so much :) please let me know some more fic ideas in the comments or in my inbox
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You heard the bell reverberate as the door shut firmly behind you, yet it was still welcoming as you looked back through the deli windows as all the Fives waved you farewell. 
The Five that was still technically your husband held a harsh grip around your wrist as he pulled you away from the warm lighting of the deli and back into the cool chill of the time-traveling subway station. 
Once the two of you reached the top of the stairs onto the platform, you dug your nails and bitterly as possible into the veiny flesh of his hand. 
He grabbed your other hand to separate your sharp manicure from him. You snatched your hands back and took a step away from him with a sneer. 
He looked down at you as if you were an animal cowering in defense. He sighed with a heavy chest, weighed with guilt, as he said, “Look, I don’t want to upset you anymore than I already have. Can we save the world and then discuss this?” 
As you glared at him, a subway train pulled into the station, whirring loudly as its strong gust blew your hair past your face. It screeched horrendously as it halted, the door alighting with your stances. 
You simply nodded with a furrowed brow as you walked past, hitting him with your shoulder, and boarding the subway car. 
As you sat down with folded arms and a firm stare at the floor, you ignored him as he sat directly across from you, holding his face in his hands. 
He took the time to memorize your face, this time in the privacy of the train car rather than watching a more deserving Five hold you close. 
He wanted to save the world for you. So you could be happy. Yet there was a lingering part of him that wished the world would cease to exist, knowing there was no chance you’d be happy with him ever again. 
You felt his gaze on you burning your cheeks. It felt like ages since he had looked at you with such care. 
You had always known how much he loved you. Even though public displays of affection were quite rare he had always made you feel seen and heard. You were life partners. You did everything together, you shared everything with the other. You thought you were so lucky to find such a soulmate, believing the two of you being the only people in the world left alive was such a test of fate that there wasn’t a doubt in the universe your names were written in the stars. 
You were so sure. So confident and secure. 
Yet, you were also sure he would’ve never considered breaking your heart the way he did today. He would’ve never considered Lila of all people. 
Your head throbbed from the confusion and the flickering lights from above. You were so tired from dealing with the Cleanse, Reginald, Jean and Gene. You wondered if you’d ever catch a break. 
You thought you already had. Six years of domestic bliss which included sharing an apartment with your lover and frequent date nights. You thought you finally got the rest you both deserved after years of endless struggle for survival. 
You let out a breath you didn’t realize was trapped in your lungs as you sat up straight and met his stare. 
He didn’t say a word so you decided to speak the only one that was on your mind. 
“Why?” 
His jaw tensed as he tried to find the words. He had been trying to justify himself to you in his head ever since the moment he kissed Lila in that greenhouse, yet now it was hard for him to come up with an explanation. 
After a moment, he spoke, “I didn’t think we’d make it back.” 
Your eyes narrowed, “You were gone for 7 years Five. You mean to tell me you just gave up?” 
“I,” he cut himself off, not wanting to admit his first instinct of a response. 
“You what?” you pressured. 
“I wanted to stay.” 
He looked down at the grimy floor which contrasted with the shine of his dress shoes. You felt as if barbed wire was slowly being pulled around your throat as you held back tears. He didn’t seriously just admit that to your face. He couldn’t have. The Five you grew old with would never have done this to you. After visiting the deli, you knew those Five’s had given up on their timelines, but their reason was that they lost you. They lost their spark that ignited their call to action. They lost their love, the one person who kept them strong enough to endure hell just to save the world for. 
You were speechless. 
Luckily the train slowly came to a screeching stop at your timeline. An unintelligible announcement was made in the overhead speakers as you rushed to stand up and make your way out the train. 
Your Five didn’t immediately follow you. He hung his head and sat for a few seconds before slipping through the closing doors. 
You quickly made your way through the dimly lit station as Five jogged to catch up with you. He took your arm and blinked you up both to the academy in a flash of pink light. 
He let go of your arm as you took a pause to calm your dizziness. You had gotten used to his old blink fairly quickly but this new power messed with your head which already suffered an ache. 
The group quickly acknowledged your presence as the two of you walked into the living room where they were all consulting with each other. Lila’s family and Claire were huddled closeby. 
Five immediately greets Lila as she whispers his name in return. You side-eye them with a scoff, hoping to get this done as soon as possible so you never have to see them again. 
With his hands on his hips, Luther says, “Why’d you two come back? Things are pretty bleak here.” 
“Trust me, we weren’t planning on it,” Five explains. 
You step in, “Fortunately, we had a very informative conversation with an alternate version of him which led us to form a plan that could stop all of this.” 
You began explaining everything to them. You told them that the marigold inside each of you was what caused the destruction of the timeline and how the timelines were bleeding into each other which provided evidence for those like Jean and Gene to believe in the Umbrella effect. You explained that if Viktor could remove the marigold from you all and combine it with the durango inside the Cleanse, the timeline would go back to its original, unbroken state. 
Viktor interrupted your explanation, “That would work, but I’m not entirely sure I have enough power to do that.” 
“I can help,” Lila stepped in, “I’ll copy your power.” 
“What happens if they can’t get the marigolds out of us?” Klaus questioned.
“We will have to merge with the Cleanse with the marigold still inside us,” Five paused before continuing, “which will make us cease to exist.” 
Klaus didn’t exactly like this answer as he responded, “Old Klaus might have been down for some recreational hara-kiri, but it turns out that I’m really not into killing myself.” 
Five explained that if Viktor didn’t remove our marigold and you all had to merge with the Cleanse then none of you would have ever existed, erasing you all from history and the memories of your loved ones. 
They group went silent, tearing up at the thought of that fate. 
“Okay,” Viktor said firmly, not wanting to think about that outcome, “Let’s do this before the Cleanse finds us.” 
Him and Lila met in the center of the room, chests and eyes glowing as they brought forth their powers. The rest of you met around them, preparing yourself for the extraction. 
A glow of orange and blue lights illuminated the room as they began to swirl around all of you, whirring by your ears as they surrounded your body. You could feel the power rushing through you, feeling similarly to doing a cannonball in a hot tub: an initial burn from the impact but soothing more and more as you relax. Your eyes were squeezed tight as you felt a pressure lift from your chest. Before you know it, the wind has stopped and the lights that shined past your eyelids had left, returning your sight to eigengrau. 
You opened your eyes to find your marigolds huddled together, swirling in a warm glow which resembled fireflies on a summer night. 
“What do we do now?” Luther let out. 
Five put his hands in his pockets as he responded, “We wait.” 
Everyone avoided contact with the marigolds as they left the living room. Allison returned to Claire and Lila made her way to her family who engulfed her in a loving hug. 
You watched them have their moments. You were glad Lila had such a loving family after living under the Handler’s manipulation for so long, yet you wondered how it would be now that Five had homewrecked her relationship with Diego. How would this situation affect their kids? Would they see their mom any differently? 
You didn’t realize someone was watching you as you contemplated your inner monologue until your shoulders were turned and a pair of arms were wrapped around you. You refocused your eyes as you looked up to see Diego, understanding he must feel the same pain, wondering what would become of the family he’s made over the last six years. You brought your arms up to return his hug as your squeezed your eyes shut as a dam to not allow any tears to pass through. 
A crumbling noise grew louder and louder as you two broke apart. An orange hue penetrated through the makeshift curtains as Klaus went up to the window to peel them back, allowing you all to see the Cleanse was destructively making its way towards the marigolds. 
Five’s face hardened as he watched the monster grow nearer. He turned to Lila and held her arms, instructing her to take her family and Claire into the subway until the Cleanse took the marigolds to ensure their safety. She looked into his eyes and nodded before breaking away to round everyone up and mimic his power, blinking them away. 
The rest of you took cover as the Cleanse broke through the windows and entered the academy. You watched as it reached out and collected the bundle of marigolds, letting out a fearsome screech and glowing brighter. The light became so intense it was all you could see until you blacked out. 
You awoke on the floor of the academy, your face sticking to the shining tiles. As you sat up, you noticed everything was pristine, unlike the abandoned academy you were just occupying. Sunlight shone through the windows as you looked around, noticing all the others adjusting to the light and new surroundings. You all looked around, thankfully seeing no sign of the Cleanse. No destruction. No glow. 
As you all stood up, Five rounded you together as he blinked everyone into the subway. 
Allison immediately ran over to Claire, crying happily as she held her daughter. Lila and her children ran over to Diego, tackling him with a loving hug. You saw Five in the corner of your eye, looking on at the scene with a stone face yet with hurt in his eyes. 
As the family regrouped, you remembered what the offer that waited for you back at the deli. You remembered the Five who was waiting for you to save the world so he could see you once again. You ran between Klaus and Luther as you made your way towards a train that was waiting to take you back to Max’s Delicatessen. You never looked back as you boarded and sat down. Surely you’d see them again, but you didn’t want to watch your Five look like a lost puppy following Lila any longer. 
You wanted to find a certain Five that reminded you of your husband before he got stuck in the subway. A Five who had his eye on your and only you. Luckily, you had already found one. 
You didn’t even wait for the train to fully come to a stop as you jumped up from your seat and anxiously waited in front of the door for it to open. Once it did you bolted through the station to the stairwell that led to the deli. As you ascended, you didn’t see the warm, welcoming glow. 
You stopped in front of the deli, dropping your shoulders as you lost all hope. 
The space where the deli once occupied was gone. In its place was a wall of tile. You finally let the tears you had been holding all day stream down your face as you realized your mistake. 
Saving the world meant saving the original timeline, the timeline where the only Five Hargreeves that exists is the one that broke your heart.
☕︎
bonus ending cause i can: 
You dropped to your knees as the weight of everything that’s happened crashed upon you, and the fear of not knowing what to do next ate up rational. 
A whoosh was heard from behind you, echoing off the tile surrounding you. The last thing you wanted at this moment was the comfort of your Five. You didn’t want him anywhere near you, yet you wanted him to see how miserable his stupid delusions and actions made you. As you turned your face to look at him with a teary face, you saw Five standing there, making no move toward you. 
You wanted to berate him until you looked closer, there was something different about him. 
You couldn’t point it out until he smiled slightly and said, “You saved the world.” 
A look of shock painted your face until your tears flooded back, this time of utter happiness as you ran into his chest, his arms enveloping you, his chin on your head. You didn’t question how this could even be possible, what this meant for the timeline, you got just what you wanted.
☕︎
author's note: oh my god i cannot believe i wrote this in one day i'm so exhausted and haven't had time to proof read this yet but i really really hope you enjoy! my inbox is open please let me know any requests for future stories!
taglist: @madscamp02@buttermilkpetals@leitor-sonolento@ren-ren23@alavit@tofueater78 @buzzbuzzlilbee @clownwritesfanfic @beanzwritez @pholuvre
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