#FEEL LOVED AND HUGGED WHEN YOU READ THIS!!! <3< /div>
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solxamber · 2 days ago
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Holding Them and Not Letting Go with: Housewardens + Jamil
a little something before i go all in for the milestone events <3
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Riddle Rosehearts
Riddle goes bright red the second you wrap your arms around him, stiffening in your hold like he’s forgotten how to breathe. He tries to splutter something coherent—maybe a reminder about PDA rules, maybe a request to know what’s going on—but his voice gets tangled up, and all that comes out is a confused murmur.
You don’t let go, though. Instead, you squeeze him a little tighter, prompting him to look down at you, his eyes widening with soft confusion. “Is… Is something wrong?” he stammers, gently pressing his hand to your shoulder, trying to read your face.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you answer with a warm smile. “I just love you, Riddle. That’s all.”
For a moment, he’s frozen. Just love him? He feels his heart stumble, so unfamiliar with this kind of simple, generous affection. In his childhood, hugs were formal gestures, love was measured and conditional—a reward to be earned, rarely felt freely. But here, with you… you’re holding him because you want to, with nothing expected in return.
Slowly, Riddle’s hands find their way to your back, and he pulls you close with a tenderness that surprises even him. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, an overwhelming mix of joy and disbelief, like he’s filling up with something he never knew he was missing. He clings to you, unable to speak, as though afraid that words might shatter the beautiful warmth settling between you.
You both stay like this, tangled together in silence. In this simple embrace, Riddle feels more seen, more loved, than he ever has before. It’s a feeling he wants to hold onto forever—a happiness he never thought he’d be allowed to have. For the first time, he feels completely at peace.
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Leona Kingscholar
You wrap your arms around Leona, your grip firm as if you’ve decided you’re never letting go. At first, he’s as stoic as ever, arching an eyebrow in mild confusion. “Oi, herbivore…what’s this all about?” he mutters, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
But when you stay silent, he lets out a chuckle, amused by your stubborn clinginess. “If you’re hoping to trap me, you might wanna try harder than that.”
After a few more moments, his teasing fades. You’re still holding him, your head resting against his chest, heartbeat steady against his. He tries to check if youre upset and realizes then that you’re not sad, nor do you seem upset; you’re simply content. When he starts to pull back to look at you, you give him a warm smile and quietly say, “I just…love you.”
The words wash over him, soft and simple yet deeply affecting. His expression shifts, from nonchalance to something much more vulnerable. To Leona, who’s spent much of his life overshadowed, unwanted, and fighting for recognition, the idea of being someone’s first choice feels like an impossibility.
And yet, here you are, holding onto him like he’s the only thing that matters. He swallows hard, not saying anything, but the look in his eyes says it all.
He finally allows his arms to come around you, drawing you in with more intensity than he’d probably ever admit aloud. His tail snakes around your waist in a protective loop, pulling you even closer, as if anchoring himself to you. “Don’t go getting mushy on me,” he mutters, trying to sound unaffected, but his grip tightens just a bit more.
But despite his usual attitude, he’s never felt this…full. Full of pride, full of warmth, full of something he’s struggled to admit he even wanted. And it’s all because of you, the one person who looked past his rough edges and stubborn exterior.
He chuckles softly, burying his face in your shoulder, whispering, “Guess you got yourself a lion for life, herbivore.”
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Azul Ashengrotto
Azul is hunched over his desk, papers and ledgers strewn around him, eyebrows furrowed as he works late into the night. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even notice you approaching until you gently climb onto his lap, resting yourself against him without a word. His body goes rigid in surprise, the usual control he wields over his composure completely shattered.
“Are you... feeling alright?” he asks, voice a little breathless, struggling to keep himself calm as you press your face into the crook of his neck. “Are you sick? Is there something wrong?”
You just shake your head, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I just love you, Azul,” you whisper softly, a warmth in your gaze that sends his heart into overdrive. “And I’m so proud of you.”
With that, you wrap your arms around him again, holding him close, and suddenly, all the strength in him unravels. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed this—how much he craved reassurance, wanted to know he was worth it.
All his insecurities, fears, and memories of feeling out of place resurface, but they’re softened by your presence, and with just one hug, you’re able to ease away all that self-doubt he keeps buried.
Without another word, he wraps his arms tightly around you, his grip firm and filled with an unspoken desperation. He clings to you as though you’re his lifeline, as though you’re the single steady point in his otherwise frantic world, and for a few moments, he allows himself to just feel—to let go of the worries, to set aside the constant weight of expectations.
The mountain of paperwork on his desk feels meaningless compared to the comfort you bring, and all he wants is to stay like this, holding you as closely as he can, reveling in the feeling of being loved for who he is.
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Kalim Al-Asim
Kalim is in his element, animatedly discussing ideas for his next big celebration. His hands gesture widely, his voice bright, detailing elaborate plans for decorations, food, entertainment—he's clearly in his happy place, and you can’t help but feel utterly captivated by his joy.
Without even thinking, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly mid-sentence. Kalim laughs, hugging you back with his usual enthusiasm, though a bit of surprise colors his expression when you show no signs of letting go. “Hey, is everything okay?” he asks, a smile in his voice.
You lean back just enough to grin up at him, eyes shining. “I’m perfectly okay. You just looked so radiant talking about the party—and I love you.”
He stares at you for a beat, completely dazzled, and then his face breaks into the brightest smile as he spins you around, laughter bubbling from both of you. When he finally sets you down, he pulls you close, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.
“I’m so glad you chose me,” he murmurs softly, his forehead pressing against yours. The simple joy radiates from him, a warmth and gentleness that wraps around you both. It’s a pure, unfiltered happiness that you feel too, knowing that you chose him, and he chose you.
You stay wrapped up in each other, reveling in that perfect moment, glowing with the warmth of shared love. For now, with his laughter filling the room and his arms securely around you, nothing else matters.
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Jamil Viper
Jamil walks into his room, the exhaustion from managing Scarabia weighing heavily on his shoulders. But before he can even remove his shoes, you’re already there, waiting for him. Without a word, you step into his space, your arms winding around him in a gentle but firm embrace.
His body relaxes instantly, the stress of the day melting away as you run a soothing hand down his back. The warmth of your touch settles over him like a blanket, but after a few moments, he notices you haven’t let go. The silence stretches, and his concern grows.
He pulls back just slightly, searching your face with quiet intensity. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft, careful, as though bracing for something serious.
You meet his eyes with a smile, your voice tender but full of affection. “I’m fine. I just… I love you. I’m proud of everything you do. You work so hard, and I see all of it. I just wanted to be here, with you.”
A deep warmth spreads through Jamil at your words, the weight of the day almost forgotten as he pulls you back into him. This time, his hold is even tighter, more possessive, as if he’s afraid that if he lets go, this moment will vanish. His face buries itself into your neck, and he inhales deeply, breathing in the scent of you—your presence, your comfort.
For once, he allows himself to fully sink into the embrace, no longer needing to wear his usual mask.
With you, he doesn’t have to hold back his feelings. For the first time in what feels like forever, he lets his guard drop, the emotional wall he’s spent building his whole life crumbling in the warmth of your arms.
“I could stay like this forever,” he whispers, the words barely audible as he holds you close. His voice is thick with emotion, a mixture of tenderness and longing. “I never want to leave your side.”
In the comfort of your touch, Jamil realizes something. He’s never felt more at peace, more cared for, than he does in this moment. He holds you tighter, savoring the feeling of being loved so deeply, so completely. No matter what happens, he knows this is where he belongs—in your arms, and with your heart.
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Vil Schoenheit
It’s been a long day, and by the time you reach Vil, all you want is to collapse into his arms. But before you can even speak, he’s already analyzing you, frowning at your slumped posture, the bags under your eyes, and the way you haven’t had time to take care of yourself. "Did you eat today? Are you even sleeping? Honestly, I can't—"
And before he can finish his lecture, you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck.
He catches you with his usual elegance, barely flinching. His lips curl in that slight, amused way, but the concern in his eyes softens as you cling to him, not letting go.
"Darling, What's wrong?" he asks, his voice taking on a gentler tone as he instinctively pulls you closer. You can feel the smoothness of his coat beneath your fingers as you bury your face in his chest.
"I missed you," you murmur. "I'm just happy to see you. I love you. And I love that you worry about me."
Vil’s chest tightens at your words, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him. He gently strokes your back, the movement slow, deliberate. “You’re something else,” he teases, his lips twitching, but there’s warmth in his voice. “You know you should’ve eaten something, and yet here you are, throwing yourself at me.”
His hands remain on you, though, pulling you closer, stroking your back with a tenderness he rarely shows in public. He may pretend to be exasperated, but the way his fingers gently brush the length of your spine betrays his true feelings. Deep down, he’s touched by how much you put up with him.
"You should be scolded for your own good," he starts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt. There’s no real bite to his words this time. Instead, he just holds you tighter, deciding that, just for tonight, you don’t need any more lectures.
“You’ll never be rid of me now,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “And you’re welcome to lean on me, always.”
In the comfort of his embrace, you let go of the day’s stress, finding peace in the warmth of his arms. There’s no need for anything else, just this moment, just him.
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Idia Shroud
Idia’s explaining the intricate details of a new strategy, his eyes wide with excitement. But then, suddenly, you set your controller down and throw yourself at him in an unexpected hug, effectively cutting off his speech. His hair flares a brilliant shade of pink as his brain momentarily glitches, clearly unsure of how to process what's happening.
And he is in full panic mode. His mind, always working a mile a minute, goes into overdrive trying to figure out what he did wrong, or if he's somehow messed things up.
“Uh—are you okay?” he stammers, voice filled with concern but entirely thrown off by the situation. You don’t answer with words, just a soft smile as you bury your face in his chest.
“I love you,” you whisper, “and you’re adorable.”
He’s used to being alone, to being misunderstood, to retreating into his games and hiding from the world. But here you are, in his arms, embracing him for no reason other than that you love him.
Despite his anxious thoughts swirling, he awkwardly places his arms around you, his body stiff at first, unsure of what to do. It takes him a moment before he relaxes, and as he holds you, his mind starts to clear. All those fears—of not being enough, or of being too much—slowly fade away, replaced by something that feels warm and real.
You, who listen to him ramble about things no one else would care about. You, who understand when he’s not up for going out, who accept him as he is. He feels so undeserving of someone so kind, but at the same time, something deep inside him stirs. It’s happiness. It’s love.
His arms tighten around you as he buries his face into your hair, his heart racing with a mixture of overwhelming joy and disbelief. He’ll never understand why someone like you would choose him, but as long as you’re here, he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
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Malleus Draconia
Malleus stands before you, holding the gargoyle he crafted with such care, the stone masterpiece shimmering in the soft light. "This is for you," he says softly, his voice full of pride. His eyes shine with the unspoken hope that you’ll appreciate the effort.
Before he can say anything else, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. He freezes for a moment, unsure, before his own arms encircle you with surprising gentleness. He’s always craved touch, but the depth of affection you offer fills him with awe.
The two of you stand there, the moment stretching on in comfortable silence, until Malleus pulls back slightly, his eyes searching your face. "Are you alright?" His voice holds a hint of concern.
You smile at him softly, your words simple but filled with a warmth he rarely hears: "You mean the world to me. I love you."
Malleus's breath catches in his throat, and before he can think, his arms tighten around you. He pulls you impossibly closer, as if afraid you’ll slip away. His heart races as he feels the weight of your love, the pure acceptance and tenderness you give him. The loneliness he’s lived with for so long, the misunderstandings, the isolation—none of it matters now.
He’s here with you. You see him, not as a prince or a fae of great power, but simply as Malleus. And that, more than anything, fills him with a kind of peace he’s never known.
Malleus buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if to make sure this moment doesn’t slip away. "I will never forget this," he murmurs softly. "I will cherish you... forever."
In your embrace, he finds something he thought was impossible—a sense of belonging. He smiles, feeling the warmth of your love seep into him, and he knows he is truly loved.
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Masterlist
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moonstruckme · 2 days ago
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I don’t know if you currently accept requests but if you do could you write something with Spence where reader isn’t really a touchy kind of person and the team goes out for drinks, r gets drunk and is super touchy with Spencer and he is so flustered but secretly loves it?
If not don’t worry about it<3
Thank you for requesting angel <3
cw: alcohol
Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 759 words
“Dave,” Prentiss says firmly, “I’ve got it.” 
“No, you got it last time.” Rossi’s trying to put his credit card down on the tab the waiter left, but Prentiss blocks him with a hand. “Let me take this one.” 
“I don’t care which of them gets it,” you say near Spencer’s ear. “Just glad it’s not me.” He laughs. 
Luckily, you’re not loud enough for anyone to hear but him. You’ve become surprisingly mumbly after a few drinks, imparting your observations and witticisms to Spencer alone, your cheek on his shoulder. Surprisingly tactile, too. 
“What are you doing?” he asks as you trace the creases spanning the insides of his fingers. He doesn’t think you’re doing anything really, drunk enough to be susceptible to whims and mindless fiddling, but Spencer likes to hear you talk. 
You make a muted humming sound. “Reading your finger lines.”
“You mean my palm lines?” 
“No, I mean your finger ones. I’m inventing a new science.” 
Spencer smiles. The tip of your nose is touching the knit of his cardigan, he wonders if it itches. You might not notice, though, with the way you’re so concentrated on his hand. Your lashes shadow your eyes like heavy clouds. 
“You know,” says Spencer, “there’s been some disagreement among biologists about palm lines. They’re called palmar flexion creases, and while it’s largely agreed upon that they form before birth to allow freedom of movement without stretching the skin on our hands, some also think that certain lines can indicate certain medical conditions.” 
“Huh.” You trace your finger down to his palm. “So, sort of like telling the future.” 
“Well, modern medical practitioners can usually identify those conditions early after birth anyway—but sure, if you want to think about it that way.” 
“That’s okay, I’m not that invested in palm line science anyway.” 
You say it placidly, even though you’re not moving away, like nothing is really all that important so long as you’re touching him. The dim, orange bulbs of the lamps in the bar cast shadows under your lashes and in the dip of your cupid’s bow.
Your finger keeps moving absently, past Spencer’s wrist until you’re nudging up his shirtsleeve. “You have really nice forearms,” you murmur. 
Spencer’s skin prickles with a blush. He takes your hand away in an effort to deter you, but you only go along with the deviation, linking your fingers through his. He glances at Garcia, relieved when she’s not looking. Just last week, she’d asked Spencer and Morgan if you secretly didn’t like her. 
I tried to give her a hug, she’d said, pouting confusedly, and she went as stiff as a board. It was the worst rejection I’ve had since high school.
Morgan had laughed. Not everyone is as warm and fuzzy as you are, babygirl. Don’t take it personal. She’s just not the touchy type.
You feel for Spencer’s other hand under the table, seeking to add it to your collection. He gives it over to avoid a fuss. 
On the other end of the table, Rossi seems to have successfully paid the bill. 
“Okay.” He gets up with a sigh, grabbing his coat. “I will see you kids tomorrow.” 
“Bright and early,” JJ agrees with joking weariness. 
As your team starts to get up, say goodbye, and (in Garcia’s case) hurriedly slurp up the remainders of their drinks, Spencer gives your fingers a tentative squeeze. 
“Time to go,” he tells you. 
You sigh heavily, warm breath permeating his cardigan. “Okay. I guess.” 
Spencer’s not entirely sure where your reluctance is coming from—if he were you, he’d be eager for his bed—but you stand without complaint, immediately looping your arm through Spencer’s and leaning comfortably against his side. 
Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Need some help there, pretty boy?” 
“That’s okay.” It’s out before Spencer can think it through, and heat comes to his face when Morgan’s lips lift with a knowing grin. 
Thankfully, Hotch spares him any elaboration. “I can take her home.” He’s watching you severely, the way a strict parent looks at their teenager before reluctantly getting them ibuprofen and a glass of water for the next morning. “She can’t drive.” 
“That’s okay,” Spencer says again. “I can drive her.” 
Hotch’s face is impassive, but Spencer can tell he’s not overly surprised. “Are you sure? I live closer than you do.” 
“I’m sure.” Again, his face heats at what he knows his answer is revealing. But Spencer looks down at you, contented and half asleep against his side, and it’s worth it. “I don’t mind.”
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levandright · 1 day ago
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𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆
their favorite way to show their love for you is through — giftsꜝꜝ
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if you enjoyed reading this consider leaving a like or reblog ᐢ..ᐢ
pairing ⋆ ot7 enhypen x gn! reader ʬʬ content / warning(s) ⋆ extra extra soft fluff, established relationship, non-idol au, just enha spoiling you with gifts <3 ꕀ word count : 1,637 ʬʬ go back to the start? ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : i wrote the whole thing with good thing by nct 127 on repeat and i think it did something to my brain. after making this i now want someone to gift like the boys do- cause the hell man :(( i envy their relationship its so cute T-T (i literally wrote this) thx for proofreading and editing this again twin <3 (gotta make sure twin gets their recognition)
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𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚 - plushies
you come home to find a familiar pink gift bag sitting on your bed, decorated with little hearts and a note in heesung’s handwriting: “a little something for your collection—hope they make you smile! - hee”
excitedly, you peek inside, immediately spotting the cute sanrio tags and soft pastel colors. you pull out not one, but three adorable plushies—my melody, cinnamoroll, and hello kitty, each one perfectly cuddly and looking up at you with their iconic smiles.
just as you’re hugging my melody close, heesung steps into the room, a shy grin on his face as he watches your reaction. “i couldn’t decide on one,” he admits, scratching his head. “so i figured… why not add a few more friends to your display?”
you can’t stop smiling as you place the plushies carefully among the others on your shelf, each one finding its perfect spot. “they’re perfect,” you say, turning to give him a grateful hug. “you know me so well.”
he chuckles, returning the hug. “i love seeing your face light up every time. besides your collection wouldn’t be complete without the whole sanrio squad, right?”
with a laugh, you look back at the shelf, feeling warm inside. thanks to heesung your little plushie family just got a lot bigger.
𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚 - clothes
you’re scrolling through your phone when you get a text from jay: “check your doorstep!”
curious, you open the door to find a large shopping bag sitting outside. you bring it inside, already knowing who it’s from. as you pull out one dress after another—soft fabrics in different colors, some with delicate lace, others with simple elegance—you can’t help but laugh, imagining jay going through the store and picking each one out.
a moment later, he shows up at your door, grinning like he’s just won a prize. “so, what do you think? i couldn’t decide on just one, so i got you…options,” he says with a wink.
“options?” you tease, holding up a deep blue dress. “jay, you bought out the whole store!”
he shrugs, unbothered. “i just wanted you to have the best. besides, i know you have that event coming up, and i wanted you to feel amazing.”
you shake your head, touched. “you’re too much, you know that?”
he grins, gently nudging you toward the mirror. “go try one on, just to see how perfect you look.”
with a smile, you head to change, grateful for his thoughtfulness and the joy he finds in seeing you happy.
𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡 - perfume
you’re sitting on your bed, flipping through a magazine, when you hear a light knock on your door. “hey, can I come in?” jake’s voice calls out from the other side.
“sure!” you reply, setting the magazine aside. as he steps in, you notice he’s holding a beautifully wrapped box, the corners tied with a silky ribbon.
“what’s this?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.
jake grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “open it and see!”
you carefully unwrap the box, revealing a stunning bottle of your favorite perfume, the one you always rave about. the familiar shape of the bottle brings an instant smile to your face. “jake! you remembered!”
“of course i did! i always remember,” he says, pride evident in his voice. “i figured it was time to restock your collection. i know how much you love this scent.”
you get up and give him a warm hug, breathing in the comforting mix of his cologne and the fresh scent of the perfume. “you always know how to make me happy. thank you!”
he chuckles, pulling back to look at you. “i just want to make sure you never run out. you wear it so well.”
you shake your head in delight, placing the perfume on your vanity. “i’ll always think of you when I wear it,” you say, feeling grateful for his thoughtful gesture.
𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡 - chocolate
you’re at your desk, sorting through some papers, when you notice a familiar small box tucked beside your things. smiling, you pick it up and read the note stuck on top: “just because. - sunghoon.”
opening it, you’re greeted by the rich aroma of chocolate—a collection of your favorite flavors. dark, milk, hazelnut-filled, and even a few fruit-infused truffles.
it’s the third time this week sunghoon has surprised you with chocolate, each box seemingly chosen with extra care.
later, as you’re enjoying a piece, sunghoon walks in, catching you mid-bite.
“caught you!” he teases, grinning as he leans against the doorframe. “how’s today’s selection?”
you laugh, holding up the chocolate box. “perfect, as always. i still don’t know how you manage to get these here without me noticing.”
he shrugs, looking pleased. “i have my ways,” he says, pretending to be mysterious. then, with a softer smile, he adds, “i just like knowing that you’re never without a little something sweet.”
you smile, feeling warmth spread through you. “well, thanks to you my lovely boyfriend, i’ve never been happier—or more stocked on chocolate.”
𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢 - jewelry
it’s a quiet afternoon when sunoo shows up at your door with a mysterious grin and a small, velvet box in his hand.
“what’s that?” you ask, your curiosity piqued as he invites himself in and settles onto the couch beside you.
he just smiles, handing you the box without a word. inside, nestled against the satin, is a delicate silver bracelet, adorned with a tiny charm shaped like a star. your eyes widen in surprise as you look up at him. “sunoo, it’s beautiful! you didn’t have to…”
but he’s already lifting his wrist to show you a matching bracelet around his own. “it’s not just for you,” he says, looking at you with a gentle smile. “it’s for us. i found these and thought it would be a nice reminder… something we can both wear.”
a warm blush creeps onto your cheeks as you turn the bracelet over in your hand. “it’s perfect. thank you, sunoo.”
he beams, taking the bracelet from you and gently fastening it around your wrist. “now, every time you see it, you’ll know we’re connected—even if we’re not together.”
you reach out, holding his hand, and squeeze it. “i love it, really. but i love you more.”
he laughs, giving your hand a playful squeeze back. “good, because that’s the part of the gift i’m hoping you’ll keep forever.”
you both sit there, admiring your matching bracelets, feeling closer than ever as the sunlight filters through the room, casting a gentle glow over both of you.
𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡 - flowers
the soft chime of the doorbell echoes through the house, pulling you from your cozy spot on the couch. you rise, curious about who could be at the door. as you open it, a burst of color greets you: jungwon stands there with a bright bouquet of flowers in hand, a broad smile stretching across his face.
“surprise!” he exclaims, presenting the bouquet like a trophy. the flowers are vibrant, a mix of sunflowers, daisies, and wildflowers, their sweet scent filling the air.
your eyes widen, and a smile blooms on your face. “oh, jungwon! they’re beautiful!” you reach out to take them, feeling the warmth of his enthusiasm radiate towards you.
“i thought you could use a little brightness today,” he says, stepping inside. “i know you’ve been busy with work and school, so i wanted to remind you that you’re doing an amazing job.”
you feel a swell of gratitude as you breathe in the flowers’ fresh scent. “you always know how to make my day better,” you reply, feeling the weight of your stress start to lift.
“i just love seeing that smile on your face,” he says, his voice sincere. “you deserve to be reminded how wonderful you are.”
as you arrange the flowers in a vase, jungwon leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile. “every time you look at them, i want you to remember that you’re loved, no matter how tough things get.”
you glance back at him, your heart warming at his words. “thank you, jungwon . this really means a lot to me.”
he steps closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “you know i’ll always be here for you, right? just like these flowers, i’ll always try to bring a little color into your life.”
you lean into him, feeling the comfort of his embrace. “i’m so lucky to have you.”
he kisses your temple gently, and you close your eyes, savoring the moment. with jungwon by your side and flowers brightening the room, you know that no matter what challenges come your way, you’ll face them with a smile.
𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜 - sunglasses
riki practically skips over to you, a mischievous grin plastered across his face and his hands hidden behind his back. you give him a curious look, and he finally reveals what he’s holding: two pairs of sunglasses, both sleek and stylish with tinted lenses.
“tada~ matching sunglasses,” he announces proudly, handing you one of the pairs. “i figured it was time to make you as cool as me.”
you laugh, slipping them on. “so, does this mean i get honorary 'riki’s fashion sidekick' status now?”
he nods, adjusting his own sunglasses as he strikes a dramatic pose. “absolutely. now we can both look this good,” he teases, winking at you from behind the lenses.
the two of you step out into the sunlight, instantly feeling like the coolest duo around. you both take turns posing, doing mock runway walks and playfully pointing at each other like you’re celebrities. riki laughs every time you strike a ridiculous pose, clutching his sides with giggles.
eventually, you both settle down, leaning against a wall, still wearing the shades and smiling wide. “i think we should make this our thing,” riki says, nudging you. “matching sunglasses, everywhere we go.”
you nod, grinning. “agreed. it’s our official look.”
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perm taglist. @honeychocos @kozumesphone @manaah02 (open)
wyll taglist. @lilly-cherry7 (comment or ask to be added)
©levandright
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goodlucktai · 1 day ago
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raised on little light (1/3)
rise of the tmnt word count: 2k pairing:��leo & oc i've had this idea rattling around since the rise farewell comic earlier this year made it canon that the turtles had another brother and a sister floating around somewhere. we know who their sister is, so this is my take on that 5th brother. i hope you enjoy meeting him <3 big thank you to @soldrawss and @mykimouser for enabling my insane behavior (and thank you again to sol for drawing the art i included in this chapter!!!) title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3
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2020
Leo regretted his last words as soon as they left his mouth.
“Hero moves are totally your style”? As if Raph doesn’t have enough issues already.
But what he meant—what he would have tried to explain if there was time—was that Raph is his hero. He’s always been Leo’s hero. And if Leo could be anything like him, even for a second, even if it was the last thing he ever did, then he could be satisfied with that. 
It’s a silly thing to be stuck thinking about, laying on a torn up chunk of earth with a monster ominously lumbering somewhere below, looking for where it threw its toy. Laying there, feeling every bruise and broken bone, and hoping that he didn’t hurt his big brother’s feelings.
They’ll be okay, Leo thinks, trying to make it be the thing that gives him courage instead of just more homesickness. They’ll miss me, maybe for a long time, but they’ll be okay.
Leo’s supposed to be fighting for his life, but it’s all he can do to keep a grip on the photo in his hand, the only thing in this entire dimension worth holding onto. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open when every blink is longer than the last. 
It feels like enough of a rebellion. The Krang looked annoyed that he was still breathing the last time it batted him through the void like a fly, which gives Leo the idea that he should probably be dead by now. He feels a detached sort of pride at how grown-up he’s being about all this. Better late than never
Leo waits for the Krang to come for him, dripping his blood and sneering his daddy’s nickname for him hatefully as it does, and hopes he made his family proud. 
Leo hopes he’ll go wherever Gram-gram is. It would be nice to know someone when he gets there. 
Movement in his periphery snags Leo’s attention. His brain starts throwing up warning flags, signaling danger—anything moving around in here is another parasite, or a Krang hound, nothing he’ll want to be sprawled out on a silver platter for—but he can’t summon any urgency. 
He turns his head and finds himself looking up at another turtle. 
It’s the very last thing he expected to see. They both just stare at each other for a moment. 
The newcomer appears to be a few years older than Leo, based on the broadness of their shoulders, and half a head taller. Their skin is more gray than green and their plastron is so pale it’s closer to white than yellow. Their carapace, what Leo can see of it, is a deep blue-black and they’re covered, skin and shell both, in white spots. Two of the spots on their face give the impression of eyebrows lowered in a glare, but they don’t seem angry at him.
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The turtle is completely unfamiliar to Leo, which is saying something. He thought he and his family had the monopoly on… this whole situation. 
Disquieted, Leo remembers that he’s supposed to be the only turtle here. That was a very significant part of the decision he’d made. 
It must be a hallucination, he decides, instantly comforted by his own reasoning. That makes sense. He just wished that if his mind was going to conjure him some dying company it could at least be someone he knows. An imaginary Mikey or Donnie or Raphie for one last hug. One last affectionate forehead bonk. An “I still love you,” if that wasn’t asking too much. 
Don’t you cry now, he scolds himself sternly when his eyes start to blur and burn. It’s not about you. 
With a resounding crash of metal against stone, the Krang finds them at last. He’s snarling something that Leo is too slow to piece together before he cuts himself off—surprising the hell out of Leonardo by acknowledging the hallucination. That’s not how that works. 
“Another pest ,” the Krang hisses. His serrated teeth glint when he draws his gummy lips back in an ugly smile. His tone is oily and unpleasant when he adds, “You’re less colorful than those other ones. I would have remembered seeing you. Where were you when your accomplices were fumbling about in my Technodrome like the stupid creatures they are?”
“We won,” Leo reminds the alien, even though it makes him cough. His lips are warm and wet now but he won’t think about why. “Blew up your ugly ship. Who looks stupid now?” 
“Shut your mouth!” the Krang roars, going from slimy to homicidal in about three seconds. Leo cringes, every ounce of animal instinct in his body urging him to hide in his shell and ride the rest of this nightmare out. 
The spotted turtle snaps, “Don’t talk to him.” 
It would have made sense if he was looking at Leo when he said it. Don’t engage, don’t bait the big monster that could kill you with as much effort as it takes you to blink, et cetera ad nauseum. If only he’d had a nickel for every time he heard that. 
But instead the turtle is looking at the Krang, and he’s radiating the kind of cold-blooded murder that you mostly only see in movies. He has one arm flung out in front of Leo like he actually means to use it to stop the Krang from getting any closer. 
“Don’t even look at him,” he goes on, sounding seconds away from baring his teeth. 
This guy is significantly unaware of the danger he’s facing, and Leo ought to warn him about what enormous clusterfuck he’d just wandered into. Leo ought to say he appreciates the reptile solidarity, but you should definitely run, new guy. 
But this probably isn’t actually happening outside of his own head. And besides, Leo has to focus really hard on his numb fingers so he doesn’t drop his photo. 
“I’ll look where I please,” the Krang says, as unbothered by the hallucination as he was by Leo’s entire family. “Starting with that fool head of yours. I’m interested in whatever backdoor led you here. If it’s my way out, well —”
Adrenaline surges through Leo, and he’s hardly aware of moving before he’s lurching up and shouting out, “No!” 
He can’t get out, he can’t. Leonardo won’t be able to trick him again. He won’t be there to help this time. 
“I do have one thing for you,” the spotted turtle interrupts to say, reaching over his shoulder for what turns out to be a compound crossbow strapped to his back. 
Leo doesn’t know a lot about archery so it’s weird his fictional turtle does, crank-cocking the weapon like it’s an extension of his arm. He watches cluelessly as the turtle slides something very purple out of his jacket pocket and notches it into the groove where the bolts are supposed to go. It’s definitely not a bolt, but it’s a piercing-type projectile of some kind, and it fits in the crossbow like it was designed with crossbows in mind. 
The turtle aims the bow at the Krang, who clicks the claws of his metal suit on the ground the way Splinter would drum his fingers on the kitchen counter when he was waiting on the microwave. The Krang looks condescending and mildly curious, like he’s watching dumb little animals do something they’re not trained to do. 
“He told me to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t be here to see this part,” the spotted turtle says, and then shoots without a second of hesitation or unnecessary dramatics. 
The Krang bats the projectile away, or tries to, but it explodes on contact with his armor, and suddenly all Leo can smell is burning metal. Then burning meat. 
The Krang begins to scream, clawing at something defiantly purple with a mind of its own that eats straight through him the effortless, immediate way corrosive acid chews through soft tissue. It moves like nanotech, covering as much of the Krang as possible in a manner of seconds and clearly designed to consume whatever it touches like a school of cartoon piranhas. 
Donnie would love it, color scheme and all. 
The Krang stumbles drunkenly, howling like a creature possessed, and Leo and his turtle companion both watch silently until he tips over the edge of the hunk of torn earth they’re on. Gravity is nonexistent in this dimension, so he doesn’t so much fall as sort of drift in another direction while he’s distracted with the purple stuff that’s doing its best to eat him alive. 
The last handful of minutes have been so bizarre that it’s actually going pretty far in convincing Leo that none of it happened for real. The Krang hasn’t actually found him yet. This is clearly a dream. Or a pre-death electrical storm as the neurons in his brain fire up to fizzle out.  
He tips his head to the side again to stare up at the archer, who is putting his bow away with perfect confidence that whatever that purple thing was, it will do the job. 
“Who are you?” Leo asks stupidly. 
“Gio,” the probably imaginary turtle replies.
Leo’s mouth runs off before he can stop it. “Just Gio? Like Cher?”
God, he thinks. That was stupid, Leo. Not the time or place, Leo. You’re in the prison dimension. You’re dying here and you can’t even cut the jokes now? Raph was so right about you.
But the imaginary turtle surprises him by smiling slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling just barely upwards in a way that somehow completely transforms him. Not the time or place for jokes or smiling at them but here they are. Like company.
“Giorgio Hamato,” ‘Gio’ says. That lands in Leo’s ears as something remarkably worth making a lot of noise over, but he can’t begin to unpack it. And after a second, he forgets what the remarkable part was. His mind is a deck of cards that got shuffled too enthusiastically and ended up scattered all over the floor. Gio doesn’t seem to mind when Leo just blinks at him, adding, “I’m here to take you home.”  
“Pretty sure Uber doesn’t come out this far,” Leo mumbles, the words a paint smear, all thick and wet and muddy. One of his teeth feels broken and it’s keeping him awake, a blistering ache that cracks through the back of his mouth like lightning. “And I’ve got, like, zero bars.”
This is how I cope, he thinks, watching the bigger turtle absorb the second bad joke in as many minutes. Leo’s blinking fast so he doesn’t cry. He’s trying to focus on anything but the pain radiating through his whole body, and the swallowing darkness all around him, and the ruins of ancient metal ships looming where they float unrestricted by gravity, and the ballistic howls of a pissed-off pink alien still dealing with whatever the heck this Gio guy did to him.
He can’t focus on any of that because all of that is scary and he’s already terrified. He needs to not be terrified because he doesn’t want to be that kind of ghost when he haunts his family. He wants to be the friendly, funny kind, the kind that gets to stay at the end of the movie, the kind that will make silly faces at Mikey so he doesn’t get scared, and leave sticky notes for Donnie to remember to charge his phone and drink enough water, and cover Raphie with an extra blanket while he’s asleep because it gets cold at night but he always leaves his bedroom door open for them.
If Leo’s friendly and funny, if he helps, he’ll get to stay. He didn’t get to stay the first time, so this time he has to make it stick.
Larger hands wrap around his. It doesn’t register for a second, and then it does in a big way.
Leo jerks his head up. Moving just that much hurts like his ribs are broken all the way down and the bones in his leg have all melted into liquid agony, but it clears some of the fog away.
Someone is holding his hands in the prison dimension.
An alien like the Krang wouldn’t know the first thing about the human gesture, the togetherness of it, so it’s not some mean trick that’s being played. And it can’t be an imaginary turtle that Leo dreamed up, after all, because kindness would be the last thing he’d give himself.
Possibly very real Gio says, “Fuck Uber. Whatever that is. And don’t repeat that word.”
The punchy breath Leo chokes in is going to punch out again as a laugh or a sob. Leo squeezes the bigger turtle’s hands, photo crinkling between them, suddenly tethered to something in this void and hysterically certain that he’ll die for real if Gio lets go.
“I’m sixteen.” Leo’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t know what to react to first. He doesn’t understand how this is happening. He holds on. “I can say the fuck word if I want to, I’m practically an adult.”
Gio’s face does something it hurts to look at. His eyes are dark and sincere, the shape of them entirely familiar. There’s a warmth inside him that permeates the gloom. A star belonging to a much larger galaxy, but more significantly, belonging to the same crooked constellation Leo belongs to.
I know you, he thinks, surprised by the truth of it. I do. Where have you been?
“We’re going home,” Gio says, the certainty in his voice like one of those huge stones a river parts around, unmoved by the currents and crashing water. “I know the way out. Don’t worry about it. Close your eyes.”   
The worst thing that could happen has already happened, Leo thinks. There’s no reason not to trust him. There’s nothing left to lose. He closes his eyes.
He feels himself drawn in, tucked against the built-in armor of a turtle chest, head resting on a broad shoulder. He’s been carried like this a million times before. He didn’t think it would happen again. Somewhere along the line, he’d been picked up for the last time and put down for the last time, and now he’s here, where no one who loves him can reach him, to scoop him up when he falls asleep on the sofa and take him to bed.
But Gio lifts him up like he’s still a kid. The Krang is bellowing hateful promises in between the grating shrieks of pain, promises of what he’ll do when he gets his hands on Leo, but all of that is far away. 
Leo isn’t afraid anymore. He isn’t going to be a ghost.
He’s pretty sure he’s going home.   
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Hey babe, i love every Nathan fic that you wrote, and if you’re open to request and feeling fluffy would you do the honor to tell us what happen after Need You? I just want to snuggle up with Nathan so badddfdd, Thank You🥰
Awww <3 <3 <3 Of course!
Thank You
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Nathan Bateman x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •
Summary: Nathan is tired.
Warnings: Fluff, cuddles, Nathan being playfully grumpy, teasing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!
Word Count: 630
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“Hurry the fuck up.” Nathan says from the doorway. He stares at you a little more intensely than he normally would because his glasses are already off and on the bedside table.
You snort and nearly choke to death swallowing toothpaste. You manage to spit it out into the sink. “I’m brushing my teeth?” 
“You’re taking hours.”
“It’s been two minutes.”
“Far too long,” he uncrosses his arms, “You’ll damage your gums, come on.” He moves towards you and you yelp and giggle, brandishing your toothbrush like a weapon.
He pauses and smiles. 
“Let me wash my mouth, then I’ll come to bed. I’m not having you drag me again.” 
“Why?” He grins, pretending to start to move closer. “You liked it last time.” 
“I did n-” You stop yourself, you’re not even going to try to argue with him when he’s in this kind of mood. No matter what you say he’ll throw something else back, playfully of course. And over the top. And incorrect. It wasn’t worth the energy. 
So you poke your tongue out at him quickly before you turn and rinse your mouth with water.
His hands around your waist make you laugh. “Nathan.” 
“What?” He leans his chest onto your back like a baby koala. “You're comfy.” 
“Oh my god.” You mutter, but there’s humour in your voice. “You big baby,”  you tease as you stand. 
“Yes.” He pauses, meeting your eyes in the bathroom mirror. “Don’t make me do the baby voice again.” 
“Okay! You win.” You grin, turning to hug him and he kisses your cheek. 
“Bedtime.” He whispers and you just about manage to jump out of his grasp before he tries to pull you to bed. “Hey.”
“I’m going to bed!” You laugh as you dance out of the room and get under the covers. 
He smiles, turning off the bedside lamp and quickly joining you. He pulls off his t-shirt as you both get comfortable. He quickly urges you onto your side, so he can hug you, being the big spoon. 
The second your head hits the pillow he’s tugging at your top. “Take this off.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Why do you want it off?” 
“Want to feel your skin.” He grumbles, “Instead all I can feel is this.” He pulls at your top again, snapping it back a little. 
“Ow.”
“Sorry, also that didn’t hurt.” 
“How do you know it didn’t hurt?” 
He shrugs. “Wasn’t that hard.” 
“You don’t know what it felt like to me.” You give him a look over your shoulder and he kisses your cheek. 
“I can tell you real ‘ow’, from that fake ‘ooowww’ any day of the week.” 
You poke your tongue out at him again.
“Very mature.” He grins, “If you don’t stop doing that I’m gonna give you something to put in your mouth.” 
“I thought you were tired.” 
“I am.” He pushes his hands up under the bottom of your shirt. “A goodnight blowjob, that sounds great.”
You shake your head and laugh, but help him to take your top off so that he can snuggle you to your back. “You really want a blowjob?” 
“Always, but I don’t think I’d get it up for a billion dollars at the moment,” he yawns, curling up closer to you. “You can try though.” You know his eyes are already shut and he’s just playing, but you still make a show of pretending to try to turn over and paw at his waistband. 
“Nooo,” he mutters softly, rubbing his face and beard into your back. “Sleepy time.” He kisses your skin and breathes deeply, finally able to relax. 
You chuckle and settle back down to go to sleep. 
“Thank you.” You hear him mumble just before he dozes off. “For coming to bed.” 
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thatfrailsoul · 1 day ago
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– If you love me, then love me from the heart
tarot pick a pile reading ( → 1, 2, 3 )
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pictures from pinterest → one, two, three
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Slow down for a moment. Give your conscious mind a moment of rest, allow it to step back. Instead, listen to your subconscious mind, to that inner voice, to the intuition that is guiding you to the pile in which your message hides. A message about the love that your heart is longing for. The one that you are hoping to find…
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This is our third reading from our divination jukebox, inspired by possibly one of the most beautiful songs that I've ever heard - "Yağmur Yağar Taş Üstüne" by Mustafa Güzel and Batuhan Fırat (feat. Belkıs Güzel). I'm so deeply grateful for the person that suggested this song and gave us the possibility not only to discover it, but also to have such a deep and tender message through this reading. It is difficult to find the correct translation for this song, but I strongly encourage you to listen and read it, as it is simply magical in the softest way. I will leave you the links that were recommended to me here, in case you would like to listen to it. And if you would like to see a pick a pile reading inspired by your favourite song, you can discover more about how to participate here↓♡!
♪♡♪ Divination Jukebox ♪♡♪
P.s. This is my first attempt at a longer reading, so if you feel comfortable please let me know in the comments what you think of it! If you prefer the shorter ones, if there is any aspect of the reading that makes it difficult for you to read it, or in case you will take a look at the extended version of this reading, if you would prefer to have something more specific in the additional messages of our readings - I will cherish your opinion and use it to get better with each post!♡
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– Pile One,
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{ The love that you are longing for }
the magician, the seven of swords, the page of coins
Love… you so often consider it just a feeling. A feeling that after all these years alive you still can really connect only to your own self. To you who seems to be the only one to feel it. To give it. While all that others do is receive it from you. Giving you back some gratitude perhaps, but never something that feels like what you gave them. Nothing that really fills in that part of you that was emptied for them… Making you really wonder if perhaps you got it wrong for all this time, if what you considered love never was it. If you imagined and expected it to be more, made it be more. Giving others much more than any person could ever give you in return, more than you ever should've done…
All that attention, that care, that genuine dedication that you put in, time after time, for every soul that was close, going out of your way to be there, right by their side for whatever might come… But still standing alone when facing your hardships, your difficult moments. Only you on the first line, out there in the cold, just you against this world… You genuinely never thought that this is what love would be. You expected something different from what you always received from others before. A complete opposite of having to do everything on your own, of that fear of what will happen to you if one day things in your life won't work anymore. You thought that it should be different from that because you know for sure that all those years of struggle alone never had even a bit of love in them, not from the people that were all that time around and close to you, but never did anything to help you, apart from telling you that this is how it works and that you should grow and take care of yourself on your own.
You alway imagined it, in those dark and painful nights, a hug, a caressing hand, a soft voice that assures you that everything will be okay, that it won't be forever this way, that you are not alone but you will always have them… So you did your best to be deserving, manifesting those tender and loving ways through your own self. Through the way you looked after others, the way you cared for them. Not only knowing that this is the right way to treat others, the way you genuinely want to be, but that it will be also worth it, that you will one day feel the love you gave, through others that will do the same… But it never came. You never saw your reflection in them, you never saw that part of your heart that you gave away being nourished and taken care of… it was always mostly just appreciated in the moment. And forgotten. Or worst, taken advantage of by expecting or asking more. So after all these tears, all the days dedicated to others instead of yourself, all your prayers for help and support, just a little comfort, that you never received because they are too busy to take a moment to give you back that love that you never declined them…. You started to think that you are in the wrong. That the love you always waited for is just a dream that the real concept of love can’t live up to. No matter how much you can look for it or want it. It is simply not something possible. And you are asking for too much.
{ What this is all for }
the judgement, the ace of swords, the lovers
This world, this life in general… has a really unique way of helping us to learn, of guiding us in or through the right direction and path, of letting us know that everything will be alright… Their language is so different from ours that we really struggle to understand it, those words that come in the form of pure feelings directly from within us. The ones that we should trust the most but never do so. Especially when it comes to love, something that we so much idealise, something that we have so much desire for.
Your heart is so sincerely tired, it went through so many betrayals and wounds inflicted by those that you tried to love. To the point that it simply feels that heaviness, that weight of this experience that you never really wanted to begin with. So you feel like you are ready for something else, for that love that you did all of this for, if it even exists at all. But are you really sure of it..? Of knowing so well the person that you would like to have by your side each day, their character, their behaviour, their values? Are you sure that you really did look for them and not just anyone who seemed to be able to love? Are you sure that you really know your worth and the one of your love, how one must love you in order to really give you all that your heart needs and wants? Or did you think that you knew it before, and now you are settling for much less than you are deserving of, because of the overwhelming loneliness and fear that it will be this way for the rest of your days unless you accept whatever one gives you in return? Are you sure that you are remaining loyal to your own self and your soul, instead of trying to “sell” it to whoever is close and good enough?
Because, even though perhaps you are not doing it consciously, but you are changing. Little by little. Not in terms of who you are, but in the ones of who you allow others to consider you. Leaving it up to them to decide how much you deserve, what is the worth of your love and care that you give them after letting them in, where only the most sincere, genuine and trustworthy should belong. You just give them your all. Every single time. Without any limit or hesitation. Not even when all that you receive is another rude phrase, some judgement, coldness and distance once they got up and healed thanks to your love. You just do it. For everyone. Not choosing carefully, but treating every soul as the right one. And not in a good sense. Instead, you are not listening anymore to your own intuition or feelings, not trusting your own mind that recognises the things that are too off. You are just rushing in this hunt for “the one” as the time passes and you feel more and more scared and alone. You are throwing yourself at every possible connection, all in, wandering each time that it goes wrong what you did too little or too much of. And not realising anymore that it is not about how you love, if it is in the right way or the wrong one… But rather who you choose, even force yourself, to love. And how they are simply not the right one, no matter how much you sacrifice of your own values and preferences, just to make them fit in the place that it is not theirs to hold.
All these bad endings, failures, mistakes that you consider yours to be responsible for… Are just a natural consequence of you settling for less than you really desire and need in order to feel loved. All that sadness, that loneliness… are only your subconscious, your own heart that you willingly ignored at first, but that after some time managed to be heard by you, letting you know that the way you are treated, the crumbs that you accept, will never truly be enough.
Those endings, those coincidences that are never in your favour, those interferences in your connections from the outside world… are just its efforts to protect you and communicate with you, trying to show you that refusing your own standards is not what can help you find them, that right person that you can truly feel safe and understood with… Adapting to another person and changing, it is not what will make them love you like you want. It will only keep you stuck in a play pretend. Put you in situations and relationships that you won’t feel appreciated and cherished in. It will consume you from inside out, slowly but surely, just because that one time you believed more others, than your own self that always knew what was best and right for you, what you really wanted to feel and who you wanted to have with you…
The time already passed, you already got through so much. You can’t do anything about it, and it is alright. But you can do yourself a favour and listen again to your own heart, before following that overwhelming fear and anxiety of being left alone in the cold and the dark. Your heart, your love, they are unique. But not at all the only ones. There is a soul, out there, that is your perfect reflection, someone who resonates so much with your ways of feeling love. And you can and will find them. The moment you stop seeing all that happened and you went through as the mistakes you made, ways that you can be better by being more or less… And start to see them as simply were and when the things didn't feel right for your heart, for who you are. Because those things that you felt the lack of, or perhaps as though it is just too much, are the ones that you need to hold onto, to look for in others. Instead of ignoring them, just so you can fit in the perfect version of love of someone and they can accept you, even though you are not theirs to love…
Although it seems so easy to do through words… We know too well that sometimes it is not enough to just choose to listen to our heart more. It is not always enough when we, in a certain way, forget its language, when we are not able anymore to comprehend it and separate it from the voice of our mind that we learned to follow… For this reason, there is an additional message for you, if you want to, in our extended version of this reading. What you need to know and remember as you continue on this journey, in this search of the right person for you, but also of the confidence and trust in your own heart, that will be the things that will change everything about the situation in which you are now.♡↓
{ a little message for you }
– Pile Two,
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{ The love that you are longing for }
the wheel of fortune, the sun, the devil
It happened so many times… So often you felt overwhelmed, completely overtaken, by the life of someone you loved… Their problems, their difficulties, their fears that became yours. Yours to resolve, yours to take care of, yours to endure, even though you never could really influence them, not the things that depended on their actions, their decisions. Not when it was something that was purely theirs to create, destroy and live… It happened so many times, truly. You felt so often the urge to be there for someone, just because you knew them, just because you saw their struggle and couldn't help but to try to save them. Because this is what everyone deserves, yes… But with those that had a special place in your heart, those that you felt so close to you, so needed as the air you breathe, there never was a chance for you to say no. Not when your heart so ardently fought for them each day, no matter if it was your battle, your victory to take or not.
One by one they took a part of your life from you, gladly accepting your love, your support and help. And leaving it all to you, to your heart and mind that never were supposed to live so many lives, go through so many situations and emotions, bear so many consequences that were coming from actions that simply weren't yours. And they took it from you. That time and energy, the courage and strength that otherwise would have gone to you, to your own healing, growth and protection. They took it all from you and, worst of all, they were able to do so thanks to you. You who gave it to them, all that you had, in the name of the love that you felt. You that not even once regretted it. Not in the moment at least…
They took so much from you, making you get used to it, to have so little, to give away so much… That now, for once, you want to find someone different. Someone who will not take advantage of your heart. Someone who will understand that, no matter how much you want and try, it is not the right thing to leave it all up to you, to handle their life… Someone who, for once, just knows more, knows better. Someone who can teach you, gently, softly, as they protect you from your own self, from your own urge to disintegrate yourself for the happiness and safety of someone else.
For once… you want to be overwhelmed by someone's joy, their hope, their desire to be here and to live this life. Their strength to choose to see the best aspects of the things. Their strength to be patient, to have faith, to believe that everything will work out in the end. For once you want to receive that strength, not to give it away. For once you want to be protected, guided, as you trust someone who doesn't expect you to lead the way out of the darkness of their days…
It might sound selfish to some, so entitled to look for someone who has it all figured out, who has better and more control of their life… But you are simply tired. And a little lost, if one can say the truth. Tired of figuring everything out constantly, keeping others above the water, as they push you down, never thinking of the air they are taking away from you. It’s not about an easier life, about receiving constant help or guidance, leaving it up to others to make the choice for you… It is about just wanting to have something that is left for your own self too. A little time, a little love, that you can give yourself without being afraid that in the meantime someone would get upset or hurt. You just want to be able to take care of yourself too, not only of those that you love, of your connections, of your situations, that seem to be destroyed each moment you are not looking after them. You just want to have someone that is by your side, living their life, instead of living yours that becomes so scarily about them, their necessities, their dreams, their worry and losses. You just want someone to learn from, or together, how to live this life in the most right and healthy, loving way. Not to teach it. While you yourself don't have any idea of how you are still here, how you made it until now every day.
{ Will you ever find someone like them }
the justice, the eight of wands, the queen of wands
This new and almost desperate desire in your heart now, might feel a lot like frustration, the last realisation of how things should've been when everything already happened, when it is too late to change them… But instead of a tragic end, it is more of a hopeful and promising beginning. The one that you are creating with your each thought, with each moment of understanding of what it is that you really want to feel, when sharing your love. The taste of it, the feeling, the emotions it can give you. With each found answer in your heart you are changing your life, much more than you expect now. Because it really is all about your choices. Your decision of who you will be accepting into your life from now on.
There is a part of you that is growing, getting stronger, preparing to be vigilant and serious about its duty: the one to protect your heart. One little thought created by the tiredness, the sadness of all that you endured… was enough to move the waves of the whole world, of the reality around you. Of who will be brought right to you, and who will be pulled back, not being the right ones. Changing your connections one step, one person at a time. Giving you back the right to decide for yourself, making you remember that you can in fact do it, you can choose the ones dear to your heart.
And it won’t be delusion, entitlement, selfishness, or any sort of limit that you will put on your heart… It will be just you, all grown up, who will now know that it is okay to not take it all on yourself, whatever and whoever comes, because of the fear of what not doing it will cause. It will be your understanding that people can and will make it through on their own, even if they are so afraid or feel incapable of facing their life right now. And it will be also your acceptance that not every story you hear is yours to live, to feel, to make sure it has a good ending. Not everyone is yours to protect and help. Not everyone has the right to come before your own self.
It might be a change that will take its time to settle in, especially in your heart that is just so full of love. Love that you didn't give yourself for so long, pouring it all in the needing hands of those by your side. But it will happen. It will feel safe and right, to allow yourself to choose how much the realities of others influence your life. And as you will go through it, as you will seek that courage and strength… It will be enough to remember that everything will be okay. Even in those moments of uncertainty, it will be enough to hold on tight to the message that we will receive, if you want to, in the extended version of this reading. A message about how you can and will change your life.♡↓
{ a little message for you }
– Pile Three,
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{ The love that you are longing for }
the ten of wands, the star, the death
It is so difficult to need to explain yourself, your actions, your urges, your reactions. It is tiring to open up your mind and your heart sharing them with others, again and again. Just for them to not understand it, to not pay the slightest of attention, to not take it seriously, all those things that are still consuming your soul… It just feels so useless to go through it, to come out of your comfort zone so hopeful that they would be that right person… only to see them walk away, who scared, who uncomfortable, who deluded or bored. Leaving you feeling like a poor seller who is unable to demonstrate the worth of your broken, lived, soul. When you don't even want to do it in the first place. When it is so ridiculous that you need constantly and so fiercely to defend or explain your wounds, as if they didn't already hurt enough.
It just consumes you. Consumes your every desire to go out there, interact and try to connect with people, creating with such dedication a relationship that - you know it too well - will just be destroyed. By your own past, your own frail soul that is too difficult for others to manage, to use or control. Too delicate to do anything with it without hurting it more.
Deep down you know that not every single person you met was truly so evil at their core. But it still hurts you like hell, being rejected, just put aside, simply because of the way you feel so strongly and deeply every detail about this world. Just because you have more depth to your feelings, more power to the emotions that simply overwhelm you, good or bad, every single bit of them that fills you whole. And that you welcome and feel completely, still remembering how cold and dark it was when there weren't any emotions in you at all.
It just would've been much easier, for once, to not have the need to defend yourself, the way you became. If for once the one in front of you focused on who you are now, and not on who you were or who you could become if only you suppress your soul. Because you changed, yes, and it might be sad to not have that spark that others adored so much about you anymore. But the you who survived still and always deserves the same admiration and love, perhaps even more, after all that you were able to endure. This you who is so different is still you. The you who gave you the strength and courage to face it all. The you who shouldn't at all be forced to explain yourself to those that can't even do one thing: just listen to you, hear you truly, at least for once.
Because it is not so difficult, in the end, to just accept someone and love them for the way they are, without any if or but. You know it well, because you always did it and always do with everyone that is close to you. But while they can be themselves, knowing that they will be truly safe with you, their every wound that will be taken care of without any judgement or expectation to receive something in return… You are always asked to be less or more. To hide your pain, to be more joyful. To not react too much to the things that hurt you. To, instead, be more understanding and patient, accepting, of the ways of others. Even though they never tolerate yours.
So you remain here, among so many of them but still feeling so lonely, so trapped, exactly like it used to feel before. You still are being hurt, even though you had so much courage in not hiding yourself, your scars. Even though you learned to have the needed strength to stand your ground when others didn't see that they were stepping on your heart… And you still hope. That one day, somewhere and someone, for once will just feel drawn to you. Not a memory of you or your potential change. Just someone who, for once, is gentle and kind in their ways. Not because you asked them to, not because they were forced by your tears… But just because they are connected enough to their own heart. Enough to recognise the painfully familiar stories behind your tired and scared eyes. Just one person, just one single time would be enough. Just one single moment in which you would feel loved and cherished the way you are, even with all those fears and doubts that everyone has always something to say about. Just one true and genuine connection. One single chance for your heart to find again the hope that you, exactly the way you are now after all your battles, not less not more, will be enough.
{ You are not in the wrong }
the page of coins, the strength, the six of cups
Finally standing up for yourself, taking your defence, pushing back those that don't make you anymore feel safe… it took a lot of courage, especially when every decision that was already hard enough was also met with judgement, with pure rage, just because for once you weren't ready to be there for someone else. But while you thought that the worst part will be this, finding the strength to prioritise yourself, the most difficult part revealed itself to be resisting the urge to take all your words back, bowing your head, surrendering to discourses of others about how you shouldn't ever do that again, and coming back to your old and consumed self, asking it to endure it once again. But this time with the full awareness of how it is wrong, to give away so much of you, remaining with so little that it is never enough to take care of your own heart and mind…
You are resisting it now with all your strength, but the single thought that they might be right, that you are indeed acting too selfishly, is already enough to shake you to your core, to fill you with the pure terror that you might be becoming one of those that hurt you, coming down to their level without realising what you've done.
But you are not. I promise you. There is nothing wrong in putting yourself first for once. There are no mistakes when you are acting from your heart, from the pure desire to protect yourself now that you are realising that it all just has been too much. You are not the villain here, even if perhaps there isn't one among them either. There is no evil in knowing what you deserve and want, and not accepting nothing less from others, even if they so perfectly mask it with words like “It is the way I love”, “This is the best for you, the best you can ever find or hope for”...
You’ve endured a lot, so much that it is truly non conceivable and admissible that someone belittles it. That someone doesn't give it the importance and incredibly powerful and heart wrenching meaning that you surviving all of that holds. Don't stop for them, for their fears that you will change. Because it has already happened, in the good and in the bad. And if someone can't accept and respect the new you, if they, even in the name of their love, can't accept you… then it is okay. There will be someone else. Someone else who will meet you, get to know you, and learn to appreciate and cherish you for the way you are now, not a memory of who you were.
It might be sad to let go of some people, to lose some connections. It might be frustrating to see their absolute conviction that you are the one in the wrong… But you are tired now, you feel weak after needing to fight against them again and again just to protect yourself… so don't waste your last remaining energy on them, on proving them wrong when they already ended this story as it is more convenient for them in their head. Let them go. Let them be. Not to allow them to think that they are right. But for your own self and to give you that space and time to rest and recover, to take care of yourself.
This world is vast, there are so many of us. Remaining now for a moment alone… doesn't at all condemn you to have all the days of your life lonely and cold. It is just a phase, just a precious moment that will sign a new step in your growth, in how much you consider your own worth and protect yourself at all costs. People come and go. Some are good and some are not. But you are unique, you are the only one you have, the most important person that you need to love and take care of. Even if it means to not accept the love of others, simply because it is so different from what you are longing for. Even if it means to reject the company that you so much want, because they never offer it genuinely but only when it is so convenient and needed for them.
Times will change, you'll start new journeys, go through different paths that will align with others, new and completely different persons. And you'll create new connections, better ones. Better because of the ways and motives of those that will come closer. Better because you will be much more rested, healed and confident after this focus on yourself and this pause. Better because there won't be any play pretend, endurance or feelings that will be ignored. It will be better. Simply because you will learn from your mistakes, you will grow. And so will those that you will let go of, but not at your own expense and endurance of the way your heart hurts for them. Because they might not realise it now, they might be so convinced that you are the one hurting them… but you are making the best decision not only for your own self, but even for them. You are giving all of you a new chance. A chance that you for sure will take and use it to nourish a new beginning in your life, new connections that will love you, cherish you, protect you at all costs. Exactly like it should be between truly loving souls.
And if it feels still a little too overwhelming, a little too scary and unsure, the decision to put yourself first… There is a little message about the future, at what it holds, in our extended version of this reading, right here, if you want or feel the need to hear more.♡↓
{ a little message for you }
_
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swrkn · 3 days ago
Note
Hihi! I see you have blue lock in your fandoms you write for, do you have any ness headcannons? thank you <3
𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒
Alexis ness x g/n reader
Genre ; sfw , fluff
Author note ; hii , that’s my first request for blue lock so i would like to thank you for that ! English is not my first language so im sorry if there are mistakes, my request are open !!
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⇨ Thoughtful Supporter
Ness is the ultimate doting partner, almost to a fault. He's incredibly attentive, always noticing the little things that make you happy, like your favorite snacks or how you prefer your tea. He's fiercely loyal and seeks validation in the relationship, similar to how he idolizes Kaiser on the field. He wants to feel like he's your number one supporter.
One evening, you casually mention craving something sweet while you're both texting. You don't think much of it and move on with your night. The next day, there's a knock at your door, and when you open it, Ness stands there with a box of pastries from your favorite bakery. "You mentioned these yesterday," he says with a shy smile, his cheeks slightly flushed. "I couldn't let you go another day without them." You're touched by his thoughtfulness, and as you both sit down to enjoy the treats, you realize how much he pays attention to even your smallest remarks.
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⇨ Your Biggest Cheerleader
He's deeply invested in your personal goals and will do everything he can to support you, much like how he supports Kaiser on the field. He'll be your biggest cheerleader, no matter what. In return, he appreciates when you show interest in his soccer career, even if it's just attending his games or asking about his training.
You're working late on a project, and Ness texts you: Don't forget to take a break, okay? You're doing amazing. A few minutes later, he shows up with a coffee in hand, ready to cheer you on.
After one of his big games, you greet him with a proud smile. "You were incredible out there," you say. His eyes light up, and he pulls you into a tight hug. "Hearing that from you makes it even better," he murmurs.
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⇨ The Peace Maker
Ness hates conflict and will do his best to avoid arguments. If a disagreement arises, he'll try to resolve it calmly, often prioritizing your feelings over his own. He's quick to apologize, even if he's not in the wrong, but he appreciates it when you acknowledge his feelings too.
A minor disagreement arises when your schedules don't align, and you end up snapping at Ness out of frustration. He takes a deep breath, choosing not to escalate the situation. "I'm sorry if I upset you," he says calmly, his eyes soft with concern. "I just want us to work through this together." His willingness to approach the issue with understanding rather than anger helps you cool down, and together, you find a solution. By the end of the conversation, the tension has melted away, replaced by mutual understanding and affection.
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⇨ Romantic Gestures
He's a romantic at heart. Expect surprise dates, handwritten letters, and spontaneous compliments. Ness loves making you feel cherished. His favorite thing is to cook for you, insisting that he knows all your favorite dishes. Even if it doesn't turn out perfect, he'll put his heart into every meal.
One weekend, you find a small envelope on your pillow. Inside is a handwritten note from Ness, detailing how much he appreciates you. "I just wanted to remind you how amazing you are," it reads. "Thank you for being in my life."
Ness surprises you by setting up a cozy picnic at the park, complete with a blanket, snacks, and your favorite playlist. "I thought we could use some fresh air and time together," he says, beaming.
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⇨ Jealousy and Insecurity
Ness is prone to jealousy but tries to hide it. If he sees you getting close to someone else, he'll quietly fume but won't confront you directly. Instead, he'll subtly seek more of your attention to reassure himself. In moments of insecurity, he'll need you to affirm that you love him for who he is and not just for how much he supports you.
After one of Ness's matches, you find yourself talking with one of his teammates, complimenting his skills. From a distance, Ness watches, his smile faltering slightly as he sees how much you're enjoying the conversation. Later, when it's just the two of you, he hesitates before asking, "You seemed really close with him... Do you think they're funnier than me?" His voice is soft, almost uncertain. You immediately cup his face, looking into his eyes. "Ness, you're the one I love. No one else comes close," you assure him, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. His expression softens, and he pulls you into a tight hug, his insecurities melting away in your embrace.
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⇨ The playful Competitor
He's surprisingly competitive when playing games with you, especially if it's something like board games or trivia. He loves teasing you when he wins but takes it gracefully if you beat him.
During a trivia night, Ness surprises you with how competitive he can get. "No way you knew that answer!" you laugh after he correctly names a random historical fact. He smirks and says, "What can I say? I'm full of surprises." When you finally beat him in the final round, he dramatically clutches his chest. "You've defeated me, but I'm proud of you," he says, making you both burst out laughing.
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kalmiaphlox · 13 hours ago
Text
Damn, this is what it feels like to be you?
AO3 Link / Masterlist
Part 2 / Part 3
Don't Touch That!
All it takes is one little touch and now they are no longer where they should be. Hircine is Astarion. Astarion is Hircine. Hircine knows better than to mess with mysterious eldritch artifacts, and so should Astarion. This knowledge does not stop them from looking into the unknowable. Chaos ensues as they learn what it really means to be alive and undead.
Pairing: Astarion x Named Female Tav (Hircine)
WC: 6.7k
Main Tags: Body Swap, Humor, Fluff, Astarion loves himself and boobs, smut coming in later parts, Touching things you shouldn't, Astarion now has an eldritch being in his brain.
Tag list: @zozoparsnips
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Dredged up from the deepest bowels of the Underdark, the three mystery artifacts now lie before them, foreign and incomprehensible in their geometry, protectively encased in enchanted glass on the marble slab table.
Hircine claps her hands together softly in excitement, rocking back on her heels, eager to inspect these things in whatever capacity she is able. 
His knowledge of abyssal is worthless here; unfortunately, there will be no wowing his wife by name dropping Ubothar and Malcanthet, or monologuing about the caste system of the tanar’ri—or lack thereof. 
Clearly the subjects of her fascination tonight are from the far realms, a topic Astarion has been learning diligently about, even if it is all a bunch of incoherent devilshite. At the end of the night, eldritch horrors beyond their wildest imaginations are one of the few things that breaks Hircine out of her melancholy, so he’ll indulge her when he can.
The three scavenged objects were somehow so similar to each other in their aura, yet so completely different in their makeup. One warps and writhes in place, as if tentacles might sprout forth from its shell at any moment, but nothing ever happens as the intangible masses flow beneath the surface. The middle object floats a few centimeters off the table, morphing between geometrical and amorphous shapes, hovering within its glass encasing, pulsing an ominous purple, a beacon of nefarious purpose that could easily fit in his palm. The last is a green ball-shaped rock, unassuming in its appearance.
Hircine tugs at his sleeve, pointing at the relatively normal looking rock. “Husband, that's a dormant slaad egg! They are typically implanted into a host and then burst out in a shower of blood and guts. I’ve only ever seen a red egg before… The green ones are more rare since they require a high concentration of magic from the host.” She sighs dreamily, hugging onto his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder.
Astarion fails to ignore the way her breasts press against him, the warmth all too pleasant as it radiates from her body. 
Ugh. If he humors her now, she’ll humor him later. “Will the egg stay like that or is a host-eater about to make us dinner?” 
“Hmm, we should be fine. They need to feed on their host's insides to hatch, so keep it outside of your body.”
“Good to know,” he mutters. “What are the other two?”
To his disappointment, Hircine releases her hold on him, moving in to inspect the more ‘active’ objects. “That's what I'm hoping to find out. I brought some books to help with identification, but I don’t have a lot of confidence that we can glean their true purpose from some texts.”
She reaches forward, carefully removing the boxes encasing each of the eldritch… baubles—that probably isn’t a good idea, just giving the things open access. They stay in place, but Astarion swears the purple glowing one begins to pulse faster now that it’s ‘free’.
“Don’t touch them.” Hircine says.
He nods, not needing to be told twice as he takes a step towards the table, careful to stay slightly out of arm's reach. Astarion won’t be getting infected with slaad parasites tonight.
While he stares between the artifacts, Hircine flips through books on another table off to the side, reading aloud as she tries to find any useful information hidden in their pages.
Like a fish caught on a line, Astarion can't take his eyes off the amorphous orb-thing as it begins to blink between flashes of purple and white, its buzz drowning out all thought. Astarion makes another move closer, a tug within his mind calling out to him, begging for his touch. It whispers inchoate nothings, a madness so real and tangible he could grasp it easily in his hand, feel the coil of its vibrant light as he slips into its unreasonable cocoon.
E̸̳͙̖̟̳̰̟̜͈͙̪̖̲͗̓͗̅́͗͗̚͜͝͠X̵̛̤̟̲̜̳̤̠́͌̈́̈́̓̇̈́́̋̀͘C̵̢͇̤̩̹̬͎̱̀͛H̸̤̦̙̳̬̪̫͇̭̼̩̱̗̅̀̌͋͘͘͜Á̷͎̣͓̓̂̾͂̽̊̂̈́̂̀̀̚͘̚ͅN̸̢̨̧̛̺̟̭͓̖̅̈́̇́̔̓̈́̀̆̈́̚͝ͅG̸̡̠͕̣̝̝̺̗̘̟̺͕̼̗̅̿͂̓̔̈́̏͛͂̋̽̕̚͝͠E̷̡̙̟̔̒͐̅̽̌̕͘
All he has to do is release it.
Hircine’s voice, a distant melody floating through time and space, reaches him within the fog of irrationality. “Husband, did you hea—No! Don’t to—”
Astarion’s fingers brush against the object, a hard jelly beneath his touch, incomprehensible visions flashing before him and—
++++
c̴̛͎̓͌̾̀̓͋̒̋̇͘͝ą̸̫̱͔̥̝͎̯̦͈̼̮̂͂́̊̈́̇̽̿̓̈́̚̚͝͠ĩ̸̡̜͖̫̥̮̬͆́̄̀̒̃̎͒͂̍͑̾̈́̕͜s̷̢̛͇͖͇̰̰̱̻̬̄͂̇͑̕̚ľ̷̩͕̟͕̃̃ȉ̵̙̼ǫ̶̡̲͎̰̗̻̺̦͚̙̼̱̳̌̈́͐͂̒͐̿͆̓̓͛̓̕͝͝ả̵̛̝̞̭̙͖͚̟̻̼̲͑̍̓̋̂̌͗͛͒̉̽ś̸̢̛͖̹̲̖̻̫͉̘̥̮̉̈̃̆̆͝͝͝
Oh gods, his body aches, muscles tight and strained as if he spent days in the kennels under Godey’s watchful care. Even his eyelids are heavy, unwilling to open as Astarion slowly stirs back to consciousness. 
What happened?
He had been watching the eldritch things while Hircine was reading, and then… nothing. 
Did he pass out? 
̴̨̨̢̤̘̞̹̲̻̻̦̓̆̊͜͜h̴̛̗̰̝͚̔̑͜͜͠ḱ̶̮̝̠̜̙̜̤̞̣̗̟͖̑̑̀͌̈́̒̾̔̄̕͠H̷̛̺̟͓̳̱̝̜͈̺̥͉͇͉̖̱͛̂͒̓̿͛̌͘O̴̮̮̞̱̰̙͖̼̹̽͆̒̓͆̿͛H̵̡̨̻̭̗̤̥̰͕̱̘͗̅͑́̓̂̄͛̅͆̾̿̑̕͘g̸̭͚̬̻̻̤̦̺̏̈́̈́̾̏͜͠
There’s this alien warble that ebbs and flows within his head, discordant and atonal, but just as it appears, it is gone, fading from his mind without a second thought as to why it is there to begin with or where it came from.
A twitch of his finger confirms he’s regaining some mobility, slowly working inwards as joints are flexed and rolled around, anything to feel something more than this soreness.
But why do his legs and feet feel bare? Astarion was definitely wearing pants and shoes when they entered the mines. 
Perhaps someone brought them back up and Lexi stripped him down.
Except his shirt is still on and strangely tight against his chest.
He tilts his head side to side, a new feeling other than the ache permeates under his skin—a soft, blooming warmth, so welcoming in its arrival. Not the kind brought on by lying beside a roaring fire, but one deep within, as if Astarion gorged on a mass amount of blood. It's been a few days since a meal like that.
Finally, his eyes open.
The hewn rock ceiling greets him. So, he's still in the mines. 
Then where is Hircine?
Everything feels so… shrunk down, like his limbs aren't where they should be. He raggedly groans as he struggles to sit up but a breathy rasp is all that rattles out of his chest.
Bones in his neck pop as he stretches upwards. Hells, since when has he been so tense? There's such a heaviness to the back of his head too, a weight pulling him back down to the ground. 
And then he feels it, that constant rhythm pounding against his ribcage.
A heartbeat, powerful and steady, screaming that he's alive once again. 
His hand shoots up to place itself over his chest but collides with something much too soft and squishy to be him.
Astarion looks down and—
What in the nine hells is this?!
Fleshy mounds protrude from his(?) chest, draped in skin-tight silk dyed a color only one person wears everyday of her life. Strands of gray and silver streaked hair spill over his(?) shoulders. The hand grabbing at his(?) chest a pearly light gray with neatly filed nails rounded at the ends.
Astarion has no pants on because he's now wearing a dress that is a little too form-fitting, and there's no shoes since his wife hates those.
He is no longer him. 
He doesn't want to be something else again. Isn't one horrific change enough in his terrible, no good life?
But Astarion is alive, literally. His(?) heart beats a familiar cadence, one he knows well from so many nights resting his head right atop where it lies, while the fingers he now controls stroke through his curls or down his arms.
If Astarion is here, inside of Hircine, then where is she? 
That ever-present hunger for blood is now gone. He’s at peace—mostly. He recalls Hircine ate a few hours before they started their artifact inspection and now there is an emptiness within his—her—stomach, though it does not compare to the cavernous, never-ending desolation of being unable to truly sate oneself. 
He should be fine without real food for a little longer. 
Struggling to stand up, Astarion grips onto the table, unsteady on his(?) feet. His balance is completely off center as he uses the table to hoist himself into a standing position but he tips forward, leaning against the cool granite in an effort to not collapse completely. 
Gods, how does she walk around like this, so top heavy all the time? 
No wonder Hircine never complains when he holds her tits.
Now, where is—
Ah, there is his body, face down on the ground, one arm outstretched as if reaching for something.
The steady pace of his heart quickens, his breathing—gods above, I'm breathing because I need it and I didn't even notice!—hitches as he chokes for air. 
What if Hircine is gone because he took her place? 
What if his body is now an empty husk, never to move again?
There's no sign of life from his actual body, and of course there wouldn't be because he's an undead vampire! 
It's not time to stand yet with these legs, they feel so… thin. Astarion gets back down on hands and knees, crawling his way over to his prone body. With shaking hands he tugs at his body, failing to roll himself over. 
Am I that heavy or is Hircine really weak? 
Adjusting himself so his—her back is pressed against a table, Astarion pushes with shaky legs, slowly working his body over onto its side before it flops onto his back, head lolling around limply. 
When Hircine learned that Astarion no longer remembers what his face looks like, she immediately hired a painter to capture his—their likeness together. In Darkfire Hall, there now hangs a single portrait of Astarion and Hircine in the sitting room and he might spend a few minutes a day staring at it, memorizing that face so he will never forget it again. 
But this is his actual honest to gods face, in the flesh, laid out on the stone ground where he can touch it. 
Astarion leans in close but is stopped by his head throbbing with more of that accursed fuzziness. 
ḏ̶̢̼̹̤̣͕͉̘̼͈̑͒̓͌͑͌s̸̡̡̖̟̝͚̜̙̣̖̘̪͍̀̐͒ṣ̶̪̭̙̻̐͑̔̒̂̄̃̄͂̈́̓̚̕͝͠ķ̷̡̧̻̮̹̼͓̦͙̫̩̭̤̝̉͌i̷͎̠̰̠͕̊͌͋̕ͅͅ
And then it's gone again. 
Good riddance. He has more important things to think about.
The painting is nice and Astarion will forever be grateful, but nothing—nothing—compares to the real thing.
A strong, sharp nose stands prominently at the center of his face, accentuated by high cheekbones and sunken smile lines that must have formed from times long forgotten, never to be remembered again. Thick, dark lashes line his shut eyelids, no movement to be seen beneath them, and right now he wishes more than anything they would open, even if all he’ll see is the same eyes as his siblings.
The same eyes as Cazador, yet Astarion’s all the same.
He moves on, roving over his features, impressing them upon his memory. 
I will not be forgotten again.
To think all this beauty has been kept from him, and all because of the eternal curse Cazador has subjected him too. He won't be thanking whatever plight they've fallen into, but Astarion can certainly take the time to enjoy what's before him now: the most beautiful man in all the realms—Hircine would agree. 
He uses Hircine’s slender fingers to trail delicately from his full gray brows, down the slope of his nose to the bow of his lips, feeling them give as he presses lightly upon them. His hummingbird heart flutters in his chest at the sight, relishing every moment. Raising a lip, Astarion finds those pesky fangs that speak to his vampiric nature, never perfectly hidden but can be easily explained away with enough wine and sultry stares—not something he has to worry about anymore, being married and out of Cazador’s iron grip, at least for a little while longer.
Oh, and his hair. Styling it without a mirror, he knows it is perfect, but seeing it like this is much better. Those silver curls, softer than maratman silk and styled with more care than a mother would lay upon her babe. 
The incandescent glow of the magic lamps does nothing for his pallor, casting a sickly sheen over his skin that highlights and enlarges his pores, and turns the dark spots under his eyes into something garish, harsh.
How awful. He needs to get his body out of here and into better lighting to remember it by.
Not that Astarion can carry himself like this, not with Hircine’s willowy frame that bows against the slightest breeze in its frailty. 
And what if she is gone?
A lump has formed in his—hers? Fuck it, his!—throat and he swallows it down, rough as sandpaper. 
It was fake to begin with, yes, but their marriage is real as it can be under the current circumstances… It doesn’t feel fair to lose her like this.
Please, be here.
Steeling himself with a deep breath, Astarion winds his hand back and slaps it across his real face, watching it snap away. His palm stings something fierce, good gods, no wonder Hircine is pain-averse. Her skin’s so sensitive. 
It worked though.
The eyelids flutter as a strangled growl gets caught in his body’s throat, head rolling side to side when another pinched groan rumbles from his chest. Red flashes, catching the light as his eyes open completely, searching crazily around the room until they land on Hircine’s face. Scared recognition flares in those molten garnet pools.
Gods, I’m beautiful.
“Hircine?” Astarion says in her feminine voice, barely speaking above a shaky whisper.
His body’s jaw drops open, clicking and choking noses eeking from his throat as he sits up, scrabbling at his neck.
What is happening?
Astarion watches a moment longer in confusion before it hits him. He lunges forward, failing to grab the hands clawing at his real throat as they wrench out of his grasp easily. “You need to breathe! You can’t speak unless you take a breath! I know it’s strange, but you’ll get used to it.” Those words work, his body’s panic calming as a gasping breath is taken in. “Is it you, Hircine?” Astarion needs to know if he’s speaking to his wife.
A nod while she practices breathing in and out, no doubt alarmed by how unneeded it is.
Oh, thank fuck. He isn’t confident in his ability to kill anything right now, let alone a vampire being controlled by an unknown entity, and he's unbelievably relieved that Hircine is mostly safe and mostly sound within his body.
“I—I don’t—” She chokes on her words, struggling to get anything out. All in his voice, with his accent and it’s very, very strange. “I can—member…”
“I know, I don’t either, pet. Take your time, get your bearings,” he moves in to hold her cheeks between his hands, disturbed by the noticeable coolness of his body’s skin. How does she not flinch away everytime he touches her? “We’ll be fine.” Astarion has survived much worse transformations, this is a lot less awful than being turned into a vampire.
Finally, she tests her speaking abilities again, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to be a man.” Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, making those beautiful eyes shine with more polish than a red dragon's scales.
Pinching the high cheekbones, Astarion focuses her attention. “Don't you cry with my face! There are worse things than being turned into a man!”
Hircine rejects his words with a head shake. “You don't understand, this is awful! I can't be a man! Mother will—”
His eyes nearly roll back into his head permanently and he drops his hands from her face. “Keep the man hating inside, you little brat. Come on, get up.” It’s a feat of wills as Astarion staggers to his feet. “Do you feel sore as well? Gods below, I’m just aching all over…”
Hircine shakes her head again, the silver curls atop the crown of his—her!—head loose enough to wiggle with the movement. “No, not really…” She gets up fine, maybe faster than expected as she stumbles backwards into the table that holds the eldritch items.
That’s it!
Holding himself steady along the table edge, Astarion crosses over and finds nothing. They’re gone! “What happened to the artifacts? I think I… might have touched one before we��� passed out, but now they’re just gone.”
She turns around, eyes wide in panic. “Even the slaad egg?”
“Yes.”
“Oh gods.” She clutches at her broad chest. “I don’t—I don’t think it’s inside me—you… I’m not sure how I would know, though I would imagine it hurts since they need to feed on your insides.”
Astarion looks down, worried there might be a lump nestled under his skin when all thoughts of slaad eggs invading his body are replaced with other, more lustful urges.
 While Hircine searches around the room, flipping over sheets and muttering angrily, Astarion takes this opportunity to really learn his wife’s body—for his eternal obsession and her future enjoyment, should they ever return to their bodies.
He loves her breasts.
A lot.
They’re perfect in every way. Impossibly soft, round, and heavy with the slightest, barely there sag that makes them even more delightful, always overflowing in his grabby hands, but aren’t so large that they dwarf her toned body. He also can't forget the ghostly white nipples that are not too good to eat, especially since they match her pretty little mouth when her lipstick has been wiped away.
He cups them, her small hands sinking into the malleable flesh, though the tight silk of her dress keeps them from moving around too much. 
There's never been a lot of thought put into how this feels for Hircine other than that it's very, very good when he's pinching or pulling on a nipple if her moans and gasps are anything to go by. 
The fat of her breasts being touched, it doesn't feel good or bad, mostly neutral as if he's grabbing at any other part of his body. 
Maybe it feels different with someone else touching them… Experimentation can come later if they don't change back soon.
His lively heart thrums in anticipation of his next move.
The pads of his fingers brush over where he’s sure her nipples lie and—
“Ahhh~!” A high-pitched whine breaks past his lips as his legs squeeze together involuntarily. Gods below, that was—
Hircine looks up from her destructive scavenge, a scowl furrowing her manicured brows and twisting her mouth down. “Seriously? Stop touching me!” She hisses, just the same as he has in the past when telling Petras to get his mangy hide out of the way.
“How do you keep your hands off yourself all day?!” Just that touch sent the most delicious tingle down to his nether regions. 
“I don't have much desire to touch myself,” she says, stepping beside him, “especially while out in public.” She grabs his wrists firmly, pushing them from her breasts and Astarion yelps with shock.
“Ow! Can't you be more gentle?” He demands, yanking himself out of her grasp to massage his probably bruised wrists. “You damned brute!”
Red eyes blink in surprise as Hircine looks down at her—his body’s hands. Oh gods, this is so confusing. His body is now hers, he needs to commit to that. She speaks quietly. “I thought I was being gentle… I barely touched you.”
Oh, dear. “Is this how it feels for you all the time? Am I too rough with you?”
Turning away with a noncommittal shrug, she says, “I don't know. Things feel the way they feel, I never put much thought in it.”
Her non-answer tells Astarion that yes, he probably is too rough, along with everyone else. No wonder she was so touch-averse in the beginning. 
Well, it could be that, or her intense hatred of men…
Or a certain other bastard.
Actually, Hircine lets him know when she doesn't like something. She would have said by now if Astarion wasn't handling her with care.
He’ll still be more gentle going forward.
With a shake of her head, Hircine groans in frustration. “The artifacts are gone without a trace. I don't know what to do!”
Knowing the far realms, they’re probably gone for good. “Why don't we go home and ask Lexi? She can undo curses.”
“I-I guess, but what if someone needs me here in—”
Astarion interrupts her. “Pet, I am in your body and we both know I can't hold a passable conversation in undercommon. I won't be able to answer any of their questions when they only come to you.” He takes her large hands in his, startled again by the room temperature coolness of them. “Besides, I'm always telling you to take a break. It's a sign from the gods—or the unknowable!”
She chews at her lip, a fang peeking through before Hircine nods. “Alright. We should go quickly though.”
They exit into the hallway of the mines, luckily clear of any employees but that could change at a moment's notice. Swiftly winding their way down the hall to the elevator that takes them back home, they are stopped by the disgusting jermlaine, Thirsk, who holds a tiny hand-made shiv in his hands. His beady little eyes dart between the two of them, but they both know he's going after Astarion's body. 
The vile thing lusts after his wife! It's only goal is to remove Astarion from the equation now—too bad for Thirsk, Astarion isn't going anywhere. 
“Oh, someone's in a bad mood.” Hircine whispers. she scans along the ground, pointing out broken glass along the ground. “Watch your feet.”
“I wouldn't have to if you wore shoes!”
“Not happening~” Is her sing-song response that falls very flat in his voice. “You have no idea how badly I want to tear yours off right now.”
“Ugh, whatever! Just kick that thing into oblivion so we can go!”
Hircine gasps. “How dare you! I will not allow you to hurt Thirsk!”
“You and you're—” Astarion's grumbling is cut off as another idea comes to him. “Carry me and then just run for it! He's not fast enough to keep up.”
If Hircine has any doubts about this plan, she keeps it quiet. Quickly placing her arms under his back and knees, she lifts him up with so much ease that Astarion gasps as they make their break for it, sprinting past Thirsk before the ugly beast even knows what's happening.
The elevator entrance is slammed shut and latched before the lever is pulled, beginning their ascent home.
Getting carried is nice. That won't be a common occurrence when they return to their original bodies so he'll make the most of it while he can.
“Will you carry me back to Darkfire, my love?” He asks, fluttering his lashes with the sweetest simper. 
Hircine’s face twists with disgust. “Begging with my face does nothing for me… but yes, I think I can do that.”
He throws his arms around her neck, pressing kisses to her smooth cheek that earn him nothing but an eyeroll. “I could kiss myself all day.”
“Ugh,” she scoffs.
They settle into a silence as Astarion enjoys being held by himself.
He would very much like his body back, as soon as possible, but a day or so of play shouldn't be so bad. Especially when he gets to experience living again. 
“Are you always so… hungry?” Hircine asks eventually, strained and quiet.
His last meal was two nights ago, and a quite filling one at that with a deer and Hircine’s blood to top it off. 
But yes, he is always hungry. An eternal thirst that will never be quenched no matter how hard he tries.
“It's just the nature of being a vampire, Love. Don't worry about it too much.” He sweeps a hand across her face, tucking loosened curls back into place. 
“How do you ignore it?”
“Years and… years of practice. It does get easier, but it will never truly disappear.”
Those sparkling red eyes find his, wide and frightened. “I'm not feeding you enough, am I?”
“No, no. Don't think that. Trust me, Hircine, it's enough, more than enough actually. You give me more blood in a week than I've received in probably ten years.”
 Bringing their lips together, they share a hesitant kiss before Hircine pulls away fast, disgruntled. “I really don't like kissing myself.”
Astarion laughs loudly, echoing off the cavern walls. “How could you not? You're so beautiful!”
“I'm not attracted to myself. It's weird.”
“Fair enough. I'll be attracted to us both then.” He taps her nose, getting ready to say more when that atonal droning shatters his thoughts once again.
ļ̴̨̻̝̻͙͚͙̔à̵̡̢̼̖̞̺̝͍̻͕͊͛̍̈̍͑͘͠d̶̹̬͖͔̩̯͉̳͔̍̓̈́̅̌́͋͛͝Ỳ̴̰̬͙͓̤̹̬̠̳͖̰͋̓̄U̵̢͖̜͚͎̼̙̱̦̲̮̻̦̔̇̿̉̃̈́̌͑̅̍̏̃̕̕͜
Wincing, Astarion kneads his fingers into his temples. He can't be the only one, right? “Do you hear that noise? It's like, uh, a voice but not. I can't understand it. Do you think it's—”
“It's Herma-Mora.” She says definitively.
“As in the far realm entity that corrupted your mind at too young an age?”
She rolls her red eyes. “Yes. Just avoid actually reaching out to him. It’s not like he’s actually meaning to  communicate through our connection, they just slip through. I’m able to block it out for the most part.”
Great, so Astarion is stuck with her mind invader, unable to silence him completely. The only upside is that Herma-Mora can’t hurt him… allegedly. What if his mind just isn’t equipped for it’s irrational chatter?
They depart from the elevator, and make it back to Darkfire without any interruption. Astarion doesn’t fear faking his somber and quiet wife—anyone can do that since that would be easy. It would be the cornering by one of her brothers or her mother’s sharp eyes, catching any wrong movement or inflection when they are always looking for Hircine's imperfections. 
If anything, Hircine is the one in trouble should they be caught by one of her siblings. They both know she can’t make passable conversation on a good day, and having Astarion who is always loudly speaking with his hands be still and stoic would be instantly suspicious. 
Nothing to worry about, of course. 
The doors to their hall are opened, greeting them with silence. Sometimes Lexi is standing here waiting for them…
Ah, right. “How do you do that mind talking thing? Isn’t that how you summon Lexi around?” He asks as he’s set down on the ground. 
Hircine is quick to shed the shoes and socks Astarion put on this afternoon, groaning in relief as her feet are bare once again. “Yes… but I don’t really know how, it’s second nature, I guess. Maybe focus on me and see if you can send anything over?”
Her telepathy only works one way, thankfully. They would have been in for a bad time if Hircine could have read his thoughts since the beginning.
Dragging Hircine over to the couch, which isn’t that easy because his actual body is shockingly immovable when Astarion goes to push her forward, he makes her sit so he can attempt this special form of communication.
Across from her on the couch, they lock eyes as he concentrates, willing his thoughts into her head.
‘Can you hear me?’ — No response from Hircine.
‘What about now?’ — Nothing again.
There’s a chance it’s not even possible, what with their bodies changed, but gods damn it, he wants it to work. Feeling frustration well in his chest, Astarion gives it one last go, forcing a message to Hircine, demanding she hear it.
‘LISTEN TO ME!’
Instantly, she crumples in on herself, clutching her head with a gasp. “Agh! What the—Is that what it feels like when I speak to you? Oh my gods, that hurt!”
Oh, maybe he went a little too hard. “I—No, it’s never hurt me. The first time was alarming, but no pain accompanied it. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t play with it lest I inflict some real damage.”
“I think that is a good idea, Husband.” She presses fingers into eyes for what he can only assume is relief from whatever he just assaulted her brain with.
Being called ‘Husband’ by his own voice is weird… and maybe a little arousing. Astarion chews on one of his very soft lips, willing the thoughts away so they can return to their more serious problem. “Do you think Lexi can… help us?”
Stretching back upright, Hircine shrugs. “I don’t know. I forgot she’s out of the manor until tomorrow, so we might have to wait. Maybe we’ll turn back on our own in due time or maybe the slaad egg is buried in one of our bodies so we’ll die horribly and not even have to think about it.”
“I’d rather not die to a fucking frog demon bursting out of my chest, Hircine.” 
She waves his concerns away. “We would have known already if it was inside us, trust me. Let’s just endure what we can until Lexi returns. She can fix anything.”
Tsk, for Hircine maybe. Lexi sure wouldn’t mind Astarion becoming a host for any assortment of things if it meant getting him away from her lady.
How are they going to pass the time like this? He could read, but he feels like that will open his mind up for more of Herma-Mora’s disturbing vocalizations. No wonder Hircine is so scattered all the time when she has multiple people clamoring for her constantly, inside and out.
Actually, there is—
His stomach growls, loudly, demanding all of their attention. There’s an emptiness inside of him, nothing like his thirst for blood which is all consuming and constant, but a slight nagging sensation that could be easily ignored—for now.
Hircine smirks, all fangs. “I guess I haven’t eaten in a while.” 
“I—No, I guess not. What should I do?” Astarion places a hand over his flat stomach, feeling small vibrations from within as it growls yet again.
“Well, you should eat. That’s what I do.”
Eat? Like real, normal food? His mouth begins to salivate. “I can eat whatever I want?”
“Whatever’s in the kitchen, but yes.” Hircine laughter is bright.
Jumping to his feet, Astarion runs for the kitchen with Hircine trailing close behind him. “What do you like? Pick it out for me so I can try it!” Two hundred years of starvation and he can finally, truly eat again. Gods, he cannot wait to be full and satisfied—happy!
As she digs through the ice chest, Astarion looks over her shoulder to see what Hircine is grabbing. “Do you want a full meal or to just try whatever you want?” She asks.
“Give me anything! I want it all!”
So maybe getting their body’s swapped, while not ideal, isn’t so bad. To eat again, to live again, even for a day, is wonderful.
If only it were his own body.
Fruits and berries, sweets of all kinds, cheeses, crackers, dried meats and bread are set on the counter. While Hircine plates them, Astarion paces back and forth behind her, in absolute disbelief of what he is about to experience. 
The hungers of (wo)man have returned to him.
“Sit,” Hircine requests, and he all but throws himself into a chair at the small table in the kitchen. He could request they eat in the dining room for a proper experience, but Hircine hates that room so the kitchen will have to do.
The plate is put in front of him, a veritable feast for his senses with its assortment of choices. 
“What do I start with, love?” He glances at Hircine before staring back down at the food, barely bridled excitement boiling over. 
Sitting across from him, her lips twist with consideration. “How about starting slow with a cracker? Take a nibble, see how it feels.”
He’s eaten plenty of times over the past two hundred years. It always tastes like ash, but eating gives the appearance of non-threatening normalcy and there’s nothing that mortals love more than bonding over a shared meal. 
Taking one of the crackers delicately between his fingers, Astarion inspects every minutiae of the crisp food product. The surface is rough and maybe a touch oily, colored a light tan with toasted edges, along with some flecks of some unidentifiable green thing littered throughout.
“Rosemary,” Hircine clarifies as if reading his mind. 
He likes rosemary, the smell of it at least. It's what he uses in his perfume to mask the scent of his undeath.
On an inhale with the cracker close to his nose, he can detect the rosemary, along with salt and the yeasty scent of baked flour. His stomach rumbles loudly this time, a plea for him to take a damn bite.
The cracker is brought to his mouth, barely pinching the corner of it between his teeth, breaking off a crumb to taste. 
Just that small piece is an explosion of flavor in his mouth, the rosemary and salt a perfect combination of savory delight. 
The rest of the cracker is gobbled down, and now having eaten something, his stomach cries out for more.
Hircine really likes berries so he goes for one of those next. 
Astarion is not prepared for the tart burst on his tongue when he pops a blackberry into his mouth, a trickle of its juice running down his chin. 
Alternating different flavor profiles each time, Astarion pairs food that probably does not go together based on Hircine’s disgusted expressions but she lets him do as he pleases until the plate is completely clean. 
He's stuffed. Full. Sated. No desire to eat another bite lingers.
A dream come true.
When he stands, he pats his hand over his stomach finding it no longer flat. There's a little paunch now from having his fill and honestly, Astarion kind of likes it. “Look at this! I'm full!”
Hircine smiles up at him from her seat, very much enjoying his excitement. “Indeed you are. I definitely gave you a bit more than I'd usually eat but it doesn't hurt to indulge every now and then.”
“And indulge I did. Wow, what a feeling and I—Now, I'm so…” He fails to find the words.
“Tired?” Hircine supplies. “When I eat a lot, I want to take a nap.”
Hmm, a nap doesn't sound so bad but there are other things on his mind. “That sounds nice and all, pet, but could we go to our room? I want to look at myself in good lighting.”
She points at her face and he nods. 
Astarion will see all of him.
In the bedroom, lamps are lit and the fireplace is set ablaze. Hircine dutifully sits on the couch, still as a statue, while Astarion buzzes about, pulling at the soft silver curls set atop his real head, tracing his fingers over the high point like the cheekbones, nose, brows, shoulders, everything and just admiring those beautiful features. 
She lets him work in peace with eyes closed when he isn't staring longingly into them, careful to not interrupt his joyful wonder of relearning his face. What a perfect girl, his wife. Astarion would reward her but in their current predicament, that might be a struggle.
He's pinching and bending the tips of his real ears while sitting on her lap when Hircine opens her red eyes, searching him out. Her voice is quiet and hesitant when she speaks. “What if… we’re stuck like this?”
That is the thought he is not ready to fully confront. 
Inside the manor, they can make it work, hide away practicing their mannerisms to present themselves as they should be, that is until Hircine gets called for by the matriarch and then Astarion has to present himself before her, playing the daughter.
Iimithra would see through the farce immediately, but if she can be avoided, then they could prolong the inevitable—or escape perhaps.
What the family will do to them could be manageable, even for frail little Hircine—he hopes, she’s escaped Lolth and death near one hundred fifty years this long.
No, his worries lie with Cazador. His wife understands to a degree what happens now when he is forced home. 
She would break the second Cazador laid his hands on her, in Astarion’s body or not, and that is not the fate Astarion wants for Hircine. He won't see that hard-earned smile wiped from her face.
For now, there is no plan. They will wait, enjoy the night as is until Lexi returns and then they will do whatever they need to survive, just as he's always done. 
Cradling her cheeks in his hands, Astarion smiles before placing a kiss on Hircine’s nose. “We will be fine. I'll make sure of it, my sweet love.”
And fine, they will be.
“Could you do something for me?” He asks as he pulls back a bit, staring into her gorgeous ruby eyes. 
“If it's within my power.”
Getting up, Astarion takes her hand, attempting to help her to her feet, but it's really all for show when this body is weaker than a rabbit. A few steps are taken away to give them enough distance so that Astarion can capture his entire body in view. “Alright,” he begins, “can you copy my movements? I move this hand,” his right hand shakes before he points at her opposing hand, “you move that one, as if I were looking in a mirror.”
Her pale eyebrows raise up high and then Hircine nods. “Absolutely. Show me what you want.”
Astarion places his hands on his hips, standing up straight, and Hircine follows suit quickly, imitating him wonderfully, just as his perfect girl should. He turns his head left and right slowly, watching as she does the same so he can see every aspect of his body in whatever way possible. 
A soft, no-teeth-bared smile is given with Hircine performing impeccably. Is that how Astarion smiles at her when she’s being cute and sweet? No wonder she turns into a puddle for him all the time. 
Next, he morphs his smile into a seductive grin and Hircine follows as well as she can, lips twisting up so a hint of fang is revealed, eyes narrowed slightly, head tilted to the side… Dashing. Handsome. Stunning. 
Gods, I love that face, and it's all mine!
They strike poses, some silly, some serious. A hand here, a foot there, ‘No, no, the leg should go like this!’ before they go in for some really dramatic looks, kneeling down in a crouch as if they're sneaking their way through the room silently, bumping into each other and collapsing into a tangle  of limbs as they laugh. 
They kiss briefly and Hircine doesn't immediately pull away in disgust, thank the gods.
“Thank you for indulging me, pet.” Astarion says as he tucks some of the wispy curls behind her beautifully pointed ears, propping himself up over her large body.
“Anything for you, Husband.” Hircine smiles, fangs and all.
He's ready to go in for another kiss when a new, very strange feeling encroaches onto his happy high. A slight pressure, a need to get rid of something. “Hircine, I feel weird.”
“Weird how?” 
They both sit up, Astarion now straddling Hircine's lap. “I don't know… It's here,” his hand slides over his stomach, “I think or maybe lower.” 
Her mouth opens, then closes, and opens again before her tongue runs over a fang. “Uhm. I think you have to use the restroom…”
Cold dread coils within Astarion’s gut. “Fuck.”
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adult Van being your ex lover and trying to get you back - headcanons 𐙚
some detailed thoughts about the scenario of having dated her "casually" for a while until she broke it off bc it got too intense and romantic - only for her to beg for forgiveness after a while. this is narrative in structure, basically a timeline from the first date to where it ended up eventually <3
warnings: nsfw mentions (minors dni), a good amount of emotional lesbian dating drama.
how it all started:
you met on an app, nothing out of the ordinary, but the thing that was unusual, was the Van asked you to meet up after just one day of texting
with other people, she was often the type to leave them on read for a few days before eventually agreeing to a date, but with you she found herself smiling at all your texts right from the start, which was new for her, so just one day after you first texted, she straight up asked "hey would you wanna go out for dinner this weekend?".
your first date was at a nice yet underrated Italian place downtown that she wanted to show you, it was a dimly lit space that was romantic but not overly so and you felt at ease around each other right from the start - you were both insanely nervous the few hours before you met (she definitely felt very sick at one point) but the moment you hugged hello, it felt so natural that all nerves just fell off, replaced by the giddiness of sensing an instant attraction
the evening was lovely, from start to finish. Van made you laugh way more than you had expected, which delighted her immensely and only made her try even harder to win you over completely - she made you try her meal and insisted on you taking a few more bites when it was clear that you really liked it, she never broke eye contact, she leaned closer and touched your hand about an hour into the date when it was clear that you wanted her to - you talked about everything under the sun and lost track of time, sharing a desert and gazing at each other over the table with sparkling eyes, you making her flush whenever you complimented her or looked at her for too long - so by the time you were ready to leave you both felt a shared sense of disbelief like "wow.. this was so nice. I already like you so much."
she offered to drive you home when you told her that you had walked there and once you were parked in front of your house, you both kind of just sat there in silence, a bit nervous, the good kind, smiling to yourselves in the dark before you looked at each other and you told her "I had a really nice time. can we do this again sometime?", she nodded and leaned over to you and said "yes. please." a pause before she added "can I kiss you?", unsure if you would want her to after just one date but you didnt even answer, you just leaned in and gave her a deep, passionate kiss as a response, feeling her smile into it.
your next date was a few days later at a bar, around 9pm, because you had great chemistry and were clearly dying to get your hands on each other, but didnt just wanna make it a hook-up - so you spent about an hour getting tipsy, touching each other under the table, staring into each others eyes and saying overly sweet things like "you’re so pretty.." and "I thought about you a lot this week" before she finally caved and said "should we go back to my place?".
the main thing that made you both obsess over each other was the intimacy you shared. the first time you fucked, you were both out of breath and frantic with desire but it was heavenly - you giggled when you both almost tripped on the way up to her apartment and tore each others clothes off without much elegance, you spent a good amount of time just dry-humping and making out because you were so deeply into each other and really wanted to savor every part of it - moaning pathetically as you both took turns kissing each others necks while grinding and moving, growing unbearably needy and wet from it before you went down on her for the first time.
Van hadn’t told you this explicitly but the second she had her thighs around your head, you realized that your instinct about her had been right: she wanted to surrender. she wasn’t the kind of older woman who only dreamed of dominating her younger partner, she was the type to get most turned on from the idea of you ruining her, so, you used it to your full advantage: eating her out until she was a shaking mess, addicted to her taste, to her sounds, her sensitivity and reactiveness to your touch, and Van thought "yeah, I am fucked. she got me good. this is perfect."
she definitely returned the favor just as eagerly and took her time jerking you off, feeling how wet you’d gotten from eating her out, praising you and lapping it up and kissing and biting your thighs - which was just the beginning of a long night of you taking turns, losing track of time, tribbing and rubbing up against each other, taking little breaks to just kiss and caress each other and catch your breaths. you took a water break before you looked at her and said "do you wanna sit on my face..", which nearly made her choke on her own spit.
you ended the night with your face entirely covered in her juices, blissed out from the feeling of her using you like that, whining and moaning and uttering things like "fuck you feel so good.." while she held your head and rocked her hips against your mouth, already sore from the fucking before but not too sore to absolutely ride herself into oblivion on your tongue. you definitely needed her to do that again, and again and again...
eventually you both fell asleep naked and exhausted around 4 am and both woke up naturally around 10 the next morning. you both laid in bed for a few minutes, smiling almost a bit shyly at how desperate you’d been for each other, both of you turned on from the sight of little hickeys and love bites youd left on the others body - she made you coffee and lent you some of her clothes and asked if youd wanna come over again in the coming days - of course you did.
from then on, you saw each other more and more. sometimes you went on proper dates, like getting lunch and a coffee after or going for a walk and looking at some book stores or thrift shops together, a few times even driving out of the city a bit to see some pretty nature and get fresh air (maybe messing around in public a bit) but a good amount of the time you just came over to her place after school or work and spent the night together, relaxing together, chatting and drinking or watching a film before you inevitably ended up in her bed.
Van definitely liked you more than she said out loud. she did not go on any other dates after she met you, didn’t even talk to anyone else, she was completely focused on you. at first, she thought "oh this is fun, I have a hot girl that I can just call over and have fun with" but a few weeks into it, she realized just how far from casual it all was. she hadnt planned on it, she had gone onto the apps with the goal of finding a way to get off, not to fall in love, but... things were turning out a bit differently..
she started texting you throughout the day, asking you how you were, making sure you were fine, offering you rides whenever you had to be somewhere far from home or had to be picked up. she held you whenever you fell asleep in her bed and comforted you when you were going through something, she wiped your tears when you were embarrassed about crying in front of her, you confided in her and she often gave you little gifts to cheer you up - in general, she gave you way more than you asked for, she was sweet to a degree that shocked even herself.
she is old-fashioned so rather than texting too much, you often called each other, which turned into a sweet ritual: you having her on speaker when you cleaned your room or folded your laundry, her talking to you while making her coffee in the morning and saying "oh come on, you’ll do great" whenever you complained to her about a nerve-wrecking thing you had to master that day. her promising you "how about this, when you get done, text me, I will pick you up and we can go to your restaurant of choice to celebrate, okay?"
Van acted like your girlfriend, right from the start. she didn’t plan on it, it just happened because she liked you so much that none of her usual attempts at keeping her distance even registered to her: she forgot about them all together. you broke down her defenses without even trying and did it so gently that she had no clue, until she was already kind of in love. maybe not just kind of.
it only dawned on her how deep in she was when she started dreading the weeks where you spent more than a few days apart. it scared her, that feeling of "I need her. I need to see her. I miss her so bad." she had a full on crisis and told herself "I cant depend on someone like this. I just can’t."
she freaked herself out and imagined you leaving eventually, all of her old paranoid. avoidant thoughts came bubbling back up, so she spiraled and fucked it up.
how it ended:
about two months into it, after weeks and weeks of you sleeping over at her place, wearing her clothes, spending entire weekends together, you falling for each other and more each minute you were together, she called you over one afternoon and sat you down to talk.
you couldn’t believe it at first when she said "listen. I have really enjoyed this time with you.." because you were so startled by her sudden shift in tone. just a few days before, you had spent the whole night kissing and laughing and there she was, nervously tapping her foot as she tried to tell you it was over, or at least, on ice.
Van said some vague bullshit about "needing some distance" and "not being in a place where a relationship would work" and worst of all that you "deserved better than that". you couldn’t even cry then because it was so shocking - just the night before you had gushed to someone about how safe and held you felt with her -
she said something about seeing each other less, that she wouldn’t cut you off, but you refused let her have any access to you after saying all that - it seemed insulting to you, degrading even, after everything you’d done, you wouldn’t just be her hookup, her play-thing, without the romance you had shared up until then, so you just said "yeah no I can’t do this, I can’t" and walked out of her apartment before you might have thrown up or cried or collapsed or worse, trying to keep your dignity in tact, fleeing the scene.
Van tried to say something like "hey, stop, no I didn’t mean-" as you stormed out but it was too late, she had hurt you too deeply, had crushed your heart, so the moment you were gone, she fell into a self-hatred that was so dark and awful that she didnt open the store for three days after.
Van knew she fucked up BAD. she knew it was just her stupid old urge to push people away the second they had the ability to hurt her, but in the process she had been the cruel one, she had used her fear of vulnerability to make you deeply regret yours and it killed her. she definitely got drunk out of her mind that night to drown out the voices that told her "you didn’t deserve her anyway. she’s better off like this. you’re an awful fucking person. using a girl like that. you deserve to be alone. to die alone."
you were absolutely broken and wrecked to your core from the sudden break-up, you were shattered, so, when she sent you a text the next day saying "I am so sorry, I handled that so badly, can we talk again sometime?" you just said "no. leave me alone, Van. find someone else to fuck." and blocked her number after because you were so hurt in your pride.
you had opened up to her, in a way you hadn’t to anyone else before, you had given her your heart and soul, you had the most intimate sex of your life with her, you talked to her day and night, fell in love with her - the way she seemingly had for you - only for her to ruin it all for no reason other than vague nonsense about not being suited for a relationship, when youd never even asked her for one! part of you wanted to cave and run back to her but you promised yourself to keep your heart guarded from that point on.
the pain was too much. you were too scared of seeing her again and just breaking apart crying, having to be held by her, losing your dignity. you were so devoted to her for two months, you had been convinced that you had found your future girlfriend, that it was only a matter of time, judging by the way she looked at you and kissed you and held you, and you promised yourself to never ever let her have you again.
for a week it was absolute and utter hell. you completely isolated yourself and slept whenever you weren’t busy because you couldn’t face reality while not being distracted - you lost your appetite, ignored calls and texts, stayed inside on the weekend, neglected your chores and just tried to go more than a few hours without crying (it hardly ever worked. once you broke out in tears in the middle of the street because a song that reminded you of her came on)
after that first week, spite and anger took over. you tried to tell yourself that she was just some middle aged loser and that you could find way better than her (that didn’t help at all) - you watched films with actors she hated as a “fuck you” to her but it didn’t work either, it obviously only made you think of her more - you were irritable and pissed off and almost broke a plate once when you stood in the kitchen and remembered how she’d held you in her sleep, how she’d helped you shower when you were sick once, how she had kissed your back all the way down your spine when you laid on her bed face down, how she’d just sat there after doing all that and told you it was “too much” for her. as if she hadn’t been the one to shower you in affection first. as if you’d ever pushed her to do a thing.
about two weeks later you almost unblocked her because you were so miserable and lonely without her, but you were steadfast and just cried your eyes out each night instead, wishing she hadn’t ruined it, hadn’t pushed you away, the memory of her laugh and her scent and her hands all over you and her voice over the phone haunting you and messing with you so horribly that you cursed yourself for blindly falling for her the way you had.
eventually you managed to regulate your feelings somehow but you still avoided walking down the street where you two had always gone to get coffee. you still flinched whenever you saw a woman with long red hair. you still dreamed of her, all the time, hoping and praying that she was being eaten up by guilt. that she regretted it all. that she hadn’t gotten over you already.
how she got you back:
three months after you broke it off, you were sitting at a cafe, doing some work, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.
Van had just gotten her cup of coffee and thought it would be really weird to sit at a table near you without acknowledging you at first, so she got over her absolute panic and tapped you on the shoulder
for a few seconds you stared at her, not smiling, not frowning, just processing, overwhelmed by the thought "fucking hell. I still love her." the moment you laid eyes on her face, her freckles, her hair, a bit messy but pretty as always, her outfit that was one of your favorites of hers, your whole body buzzed with that old need to reach out and touch.
still, you tried to mask it and just said "oh... hi." as coldly and unfeelingly as you could manage. Van was really nervous and a bit awkward as she said "hey. sorry, I really hope I am not disturbing you. uh, would you mind if I-" she gestured at the seat across from you. you crossed your arms and remained somewhat stoic as you said "sure, yeah", trying to act like her voice wasnt burning your whole body up, wasnt forcing the echo "I missed her, I missed her, I missed her" into your mind.
she sat down and drank from her coffee and cleared her throat, while you just sat there watching, waiting for her to talk because you wouldn’t make it easy for her.
Van started by saying "so, how have you been?" immediately regretting it after, realizing how weird that was to say to someone whose heart you had broken mere months before. you gave her a puzzled look and just said "well, I’ve been better. but it’s fine, nothing much changed since we last spoke." you wanted her to feel bad and she did. she really did. so she cut the small talk and got to what she had wanted to say to you for weeks.
her voice was quiet and low when she said. "okay. listen. I am really glad I ran into you here, because I wanted to apologize, properly. I know that it won’t change a thing and I know you might not wanna hear it but I need you to know that I regret it horribly. what I did. what I said. how I said it. everything. it was just... yeah I was awful to you." she admitted, looking at her hands, not at you. you could tell she meant it, you could hear the hurt in her voice, you almost teared up but you didnt say a word. you waited for the rest.
she went on "and I need you to know that it had absolutely nothing to do with you." and that made you scoff then, laugh almost, but she shook her head and insisted "no please, I mean that, it was my fucking issues, nothing you did", but you interrupted her and said, "Van you do realize that that is insanely hard to believe right? to be cut off like that out of nowhere, after everything we did together, of course that made me feel like fucking shit. like I went wrong somewhere without knowing. of course I have been wondering about what I did wrong, what else would I be doing?".
that made her feel even worse. her eyes went all soft when she saw it written all over your face and she had to stop herself from reaching out to touch your hand. she sighed and thought for a second before changing strategies.
"okay, this is gonna sound so weird but please bear with me. you have never googled me, have you?" she said next, which confused the hell out of you. you shook your head and she said "yeah I figured, because uh... well. you’d have seen something. go on and look up my name for a second, and add the word "yellowjackets"" she told you. you almost asked her to leave and stop the weird shit but you felt generous so you said "okay." and pulled out your phone, curious enough to see what on earth she was referring to.
Van realized that it would take ages for her to explain all of her trauma and all of the reasons why she is fucked up in regards to trust and feeling dependent on someone, why letting herself be open scared her, on a visceral physical level - she knew she wouldn’t be able to find the right words, she’d tried, she’d drafted letters and texts and had despaired over what to say if she ever saw you again, but sitting there she thought fuck it. might as well try this.
you typed in her full name and added "yellowjackets" after - Van watched your face intently, a bit scared, a bit embarrassed and saw it then: your utter disbelief. the search results flashed in front of your eyes: words like "plane crash", "mysterious case", "true crime", "cannibalism", "cult", "miracle", "rescue". a bunch of links to podcasts discussing the case of the plane that crashed in the 90s with a high school soccer team and sure enough her name "Van Palmer" among a bunch of others, again and again, a blurry picture of a young redhead that was obviously her next to other girls.
you couldn’t process it - you silently scrolled through a few articles and skimmed them as she whispered "yeah.... yeah. and I am not making you look at that to use it as an excuse for how I acted, absolutely not, that was my fault, fully. but maybe this sheds a light on why I am... well. you know" - "fucked up" you finished her thought, which made her laugh in relief, the fact that dark humor was still something you were willing to offer her, "yes. exactly."
you hated to admit it but it did make you see things a bit differently then - she’d told you about her mother, her home life, and that horrible nightmare-ish experience on top of her already less than ideal upbringing seemed like an explanation for how she’d acted, why she might have some issues with closeness. it wasn’t an excuse but you could acknowledge that her trauma was uniquely awful: at age seventeen, all of that.
for second you felt like crying, thinking of her at that age, being that scared and hurt. in a way it impressed you almost, that she wasn’t a completely lost cause, that she was so charming and funny and able to put up a tough front. a lot of conflicting feelings swirled around in you then.
her heart beat out of her chest as she watched you process it all but she was also a bit impressed by the fact that you didnt seem scared or disgusted. she was prepared for you to yell at her that she was a fucking freak for keeping that from you, that she was a disgusting person and should leave you alone for good, that you felt deceived, but you did none of that.
you were quiet and eventually put the phone down, looking at her, and shaking your head, sighing, "god. so you lived in the fucking woods for 19 months as a girl and actually survived all that??" unable to believe it. Van nodded and said "yeah... would have been better for you if I had perished out there, huh", which got the first hint of a smile from you. you tilted your head and said "no. it wouldnt have.", genuine, almost as if to say "you idiot. I love you so fucking much." which didn’t escape her.
Van was bold enough to touch your hand then, to hold it and to say "god I am so sorry. really. I thought of you every day, it killed me." she confessed. "so did I." you told her, which only softened her more. she leaned forward and squeezed your hands, whispering "please. you don’t have to forgive me at all but give me another chance. let me make it up to you."
you really struggled then for a second because you had told yourself again and again that she was dead to you, that she would never be allowed to have you again, but looking at her in that evening light, her hair on fire, her face kind and open - actually seeing her again, hearing her, feeling her touch, it made it impossible to deny it: you wanted her back. you wanted her back more than anything.
she seemed genuinely sorry and you knew you would regret it all your life if youd deny yourself a second chance with her, so you nodded tentatively and said "alright. let’s see what you got", which made her smile as if the sun had just come up for the first time since three months of pitch black. she couldn’t believe that youd actually agreed, so she took both your hands in both of hers and kissed your knuckles briefly, while saying "I missed you... I missed you so much."
in that moment you thought about her past, the fact that the woman youd cried over for weeks had been the subject of many articles and podcasts and crime documentaries, and you hadn’t been aware at all - it made you feel an unexpected rush. a sense of power. that someone who apparently had a past of brutality and cannibalism and feral living, had often been so soft and submissive with you, had let you boss her around and manhandle her, had wanted you to. it made your grin to yourself, and she caught it, that you liked it, having someone with a past like that throwing yourself at your feet while begging for forgiveness.
it turned you on, to think that Van was portrayed as a barbaric monster in some of the discussions about her time out there, when she had often surrendered to you, had never tried to overpower you because she liked being your baby, she liked being all weak in private, while seeming tough out in public. she had missed it terribly, she had missed it to a point of almost going insane, the way she had felt in your arms, when you stroked her hair and kissed her, when you gave her exactly what she needed, when you turned her on with just a simple touch.
"so uh" she said then "do you wanna maybe.. come home with me, like.. right now" you agreed and got up with her to leave the cafe and go to her place which was a few blocks away.
as you walked, you definitely teased her about what you had just found out, asking her things like "so. did you guys all have group lesbian stuff going on out there, or..." which she laughed at and said "oh, no, nothing that fun, we were too busy starving and fighting and having freaky religious ideas to all fuck each other. but who knows, maybe I just don’t remember" she was glad to see that you could laugh with her again, that you let her take your arm, that you were amused by her past instead of disgusted or shocked.
"I really fucking suffered you know" you said as you took off your jacket in her apartment "I couldn’t eat for like three days after, I cried so much it started pissing me off, I couldn’t go anywhere because it all reminded me of you. you did me in good" you were in the mood to rub it in a bit, and it worked, she made a sound of pain and looked at you "no, no, stop", but you went on as you sat down on the couch and said "yeah, I was a wreck, you ruined me."
Van joined you and said "if it makes you feel any better if was close to calling 911 on myself not once but twice because I was convinced you could physically die of heartache, so. there’s that." you could tell she wasnt lying, so you said "yeah it does actually", not meaning it, since you hated the idea of her in pain, even when you were cross with her.
you wouldn’t just let her kiss you. you sat close together and she was clearly very desperate to touch you, so you said "beg me for it. I remember you being quite good at that." your tone stern, your eyes never leaving hers, and that made her weak in the knees then.
she flushed and nodded as she leaned closer to you and whispered "I missed you so much, you have no idea. I dreamed of you all the time, all the fucking time, I havent been with anyone since, I couldn’t, didnt want to. I need you to touch me so bad, please. please..." she kissed your cheek, once, twice, a third time, gently, as she caressed your neck, waiting for you to cave. you closed your eyes and soaked it up, being pleaded with. she gave you more, "I will do whatever you want, I will do anything. you can do whatever you want to me."
that was the way to win you over for good, she knew it, you opened your eyes again and took her face in your hands then. you stared at her lips, then at her eyes and said "I should punish you, you know."
instead of protesting Van sighed "please. yes." which made you lean in and breathe against her lips, smiling "yeah?", her whole body hot with sheer need.
Van had always been somewhat of a masochist but with you, right then, it was even more intense because she believed she deserved whatever pain you would make her feel. she craved it. she wanted you to take it out on her. she wanted to repent. you could tell. but you would keep that for another time. in that moment, all you wanted was to have her at your mercy, and you did, so you eventually leaned in and kissed her.
the hours after were a total blur. all of your unspoken feelings bursting out at once, both of you clinging to each other and kissing like you had been separated for years - it was deeply charged and emotional and intense in a way that surpassed everything you’d done before, you almost cried at certain points when you fucked that evening, both of you, because you’d missed it so much. the one upside of all the ache and the hurt over her was that fucking again made you both orgasm in ways that almost scared you in their intensity, similar to your first time of having sex, but so different too, a shared attempt at melting back into each other after your period of almost dying of heart ache over each other.
from that point on Van worshipped the ground you walked on. she had been a sweet lover before but the thrill of you letting her back into your life, opening your heart again, made her feel such a deep sense of gratitude, that she became an even better lover to you, just to prove herself worthy of your grace. she wouldnt lose you again. no way. no way in hell.
the day after getting back together, in the morning, she used a quiet moment to look at you and ask "so. do you want to be my girlfriend." making sure that you knew she was deeply serious about you, that she was not going to back away again, that she wanted you to be hers for good.
you took a second to answer, to make her wait, but then you smiled and said "yes. of course." which made her come over to where you were sitting to tightly wrap her arms around you from behind and kiss your neck, whispering "I love you, I did all along, you know", something neither of you had said before, and she didnt expect you to say it back but you did - you stood up and face her, your hands on her waist "I love you too. so much. it nearly cost my sanity". Van kissed you then and as she felt you give into it and caress her skin under her shirt, she thought of the world "girlfriend" over and over and wondered how she ever convinced herself that that wasn’t exactly what she had wanted all along: you, being hers, all hers.
a bonus, how you had sex after you got back together, including the punishment idea:
you once tied her arms to her bed, to make her watch you as you got off. Van just squirming and whining and growing unbearably wet as she watched you touch yourself - you getting turned on from her gaze burning into your body as you jerked yourself off and gave her a good show, knowing it was killing her that she couldnt touch you or herself - you threw a "you sound pathetic" her way in the middle of it, to try and be mean, but predictably that only turned her on more... you weren’t all that sadistic, so after you finished and untied her, you let her lap up the mess youd made and let her get you off again.
before that though, you pushed your fingers down her throat to make her lick off your cum, but that wasn’t a punishment at all, she sucked your fingers off gladly, and deep down you knew that you were giving her what she needed, that she wasn’t suffering one bit, that she was delighted by your dominance
overstimulation. yeah, god help her... you did that already before but after you got back together, you really got into it: fucking her senseless, leaving her a shaking mess, making her cry from how relentlessly you were pleasuring her - telling her "this is what you wanted, right?" while giving her yet another orgasm, her just taking it and pretending it was too much when it absolutely wasn’t - few things pleased her more than having you manhandle her and get all over her, teasing her, pinning her down, adjusting her position to eat her out from the back while she cried into the pillow and lost her mind.
bruises. you had never been shy with bruising her but after getting back together, you definitely got more aggressive with it, sensing that she wanted it, having a physical reminder of your force - on her inner thighs or her chest or her neck. she loveees it, seeing bruises on her body when she gets dressed, makes her feel claimed <3
on the other hand, when you were on the receiving end, she loved being on her knees, especially during the weeks after you got back together - she loved to have you standing up or at the edge of the bed while she hurt her knees to please you, to eat you out with feverish need, to give you exactly what you needed and to be in a position of repentance. her every touch a way of saying "I love you. I wish I had never hurt you. I will be so good to you from now on. so so good. my baby" and it worked: you were all hers when she got like that, moaning her name and tugging at her hair and letting her take care of you, opening up again, literally.
sometimes you’d sit on the couch and complain about a random ache in your body and she’d immediately be like "I got it" and get you to lay back so she could give you head, whether you were dealing with period cramps or back pain or general discomfort, she would immediately be of service (I think her approach to topping/giving is rather submissive, she just wants to please, that’s it, no need to give orders, she just wants to take them and please, and she does. always.)
you definitely fucked so much during your first week back together that you both got sore from it and had to slow it down... you were starveeeed.
about a month into it, things got settled, you were used to being openly in love by then, being girlfriends - you realized that you had all the time in the world and fell into a comfortable rhythm, both in and outside of the bedroom - you knew each other so well that it came naturally. you also moved into her place eventually <3 and you took a trip together for the first time to get away and have a feeling of a fresh start <3
yeah, thats it 💌
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eclectic-sassycoweyes · 18 hours ago
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Hi Ada! Sorry your mind is in a bleh place - sending you lotsa hugs!!💗💗
1) I FINALLY replaced by gravel bike that was stolen this summer (long story short I bought a replacement that was on a prize offer for the insurance money but couldn’t break on it properly bc even though it was a ‘women’s’ model the grips were too big and the breaks too hard to push for my nimble hands hehe and I had to convince the store to buy it back and sell me another one and it’s generally really difficult to find a good one in my size so I’ve been worried cause it’s a lot of money😩) and the guy who sold it to me was soo nice he like helped me out for an hour at least and was so helpful answering all my questions. And he gave me so much off the prize for the best bet of a bike he had, so that I actually got a BETTER more expensive bike and hardly had to pay extra! And we joked too - so I left yesterday feeling both really excited and like ‘successful human interaction checked!’ (People are nice and random things will sometimes work out!!)
2) this weekend I messaged my professor this weekend bc I’d completely missed the deadline for an assignment that could help me get some feedback on my ideas for my exam project. I’ve never interacted with him outside of class and of course I got all over sharing about why I missed the deadline and why I’ve missed class a few of times and struggled to be on time, telling him about the memorial days for my best friend, my anxiety and ADHD and how it’s been difficult to get back to everyday life after travelling and then when I’d sent it I felt super weird about it. But then he replied sharing that he’s struggled with his anxiety this month and a personal anecdote about how he’d actually been in the process of getting his doctor to prescribe anti-anxiety meds when he held the presentation on mental illness (the course is called ‘normality and deviance’). He ended the mail by sending me a ‘mental hug’ and it really meant a lot to me. The day before, in class I’d been late, but still participated and we had a guest teacher who when he left called my name and said ‘it was interesting to hear from you!’. I’ve been feeling bad about my academic skills and aspirations lately bc I feel like other stuff is holding me back. So these two things reminded me, that so many people struggle even those that you think are successful, and it doesn’t take away from the things you’re good at and love doing!!!🥹
3) I wore my binder out for the first time this weekend, for my friend’s birthday and following night out and felt really affirmed and good about myself and in my body!! (Of course I was still hit on by a straight guy who got a bit gross when I very gently rejected him but oh well).
4) have a few pics of my family dog!!
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And one of Moo Dom (thank you for the name suggestion D @carlos-tk ) who is one of your biggest cheers for writing delectable smut and making this fandom kinkier!!!🥳🤩 he reads along over my shoulder from where he’s placed on the couch pillows and he’s a big fan😌
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I’ve been in a bleh mood myself - on and off everyday obligations this semester has felt a bit overwhelming, doubting my academic aspirations and the winter depression symptoms hit hard suddenly after my all-nighter to follow the election last week.. but these little things made me feel better and I am coming up from it and the sun is out today!!☀️
I hope you feel better soon too and take care of yourself and can relish in some of the little things along the way<3<3<3
- Life is a rollercoaster and a WIP! <3😌
what's up wednesday
Hey everyone! Thanks for the tags. I've been steadily working away at both kinktober and the rent boy au, but I'm kind of in a bleh mental space right now so I don't really feel like sharing.
That said, because of bleh mental space, I'd love, love, love to hear something positive that's happening with all of you!
Whether that be something that made you smile, something you're proud of, a picture of your pet, I want all the good vibes! Feel free to reply, reblog, send an ask, message me or not reply it all, I won't take it personal!
Tagging those that have tagged me already:
@nisbanisba, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @heartstringsduet, @paperstorm, @carlossreaders
@strandnreyes
Then I'll tag some of the usual crew:
@reyesstrand, @herefortarlos, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @carlos-in-glasses, @carlos-tk
@theghostofashton, @bonheur-cafe, @basilsunrise, @never-blooms, @literateowl
@lightningboltreader, @honeybee-taskforce, @guardian-angle22, @goldenskykaysani, @eclectic-sassycoweyes
@freneticfloetry, @fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @sanjuwrites, @sheholdsthemoon, @actual-sleeping-beauty
@ironheartwriter, @irispurpurea, @your-catfish-friend, @whatsintheboxmh, @welcometololaland
@rmd-writes, @butchreyes, @emsprovisions, @tellmegoodbye and then here's a tag for anyone who just wants to share some good news <3 <3 <3 <3
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memento-morri-writes · 2 months ago
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I've been thinking a lot about how Rook's reunion with his former mentor, Zara, is going to go, and since I can't predict what the DM is going to have her do or say, I can only dwell on what I know is going to happen. Which happens to include taking off the illusion ring that's been hiding his injuries from her. So have a snippet of the description I have planned for that moment:
tw for description of (mostly healed) injuries
He hesitates, twisting a ring on his finger. Looking at it more closely, she can tell it’s very finely crafted, and must have been very expensive. A large emerald is set into the band. Rook sighs, and pulls the ring off his finger in one quick motion.  Immediately she’s struck by the difference in his appearance as the illusion melts away. He looks awful. His warm, healthy skin fades to a dull and sickly grey. There’s huge bags under his deeply sunken eyes, and his cheeks are hollowed, as though they have been carved out by an overeager sculptor. He looks like he’s recently risen from the grave.  While he was thin before, now she can see his ribs under the skin, and his collarbones are exaggeratedly pronounce. Thin white lines left by dozens upon dozens of recently healed cuts are scattered across his body. On top of that, faded bruises cover most of his visible skin, a mottled mosaic of purple and yellow. They’re clearly days, maybe weeks old, and she can only begin to imagine what they must have looked like when fresh. Bandages are barely visible under his shirt, wrapping around his back, hinting at even more injuries.
#morrigan.text#my writing#dnd writing#oc: Rook#oc: Zara#Poor Zara.#she's gonna feel so fucking guilty about everything that's happened to him in the last 3 years even though it's not her fault.#yes she pissed off Wolf but she had no way of knowing Wolf would go after Rook instead of her.#(I don't even know what she did to piss off Wolf. That's the Big Reveal that's going to happen when Rook sees her again.)#but yeah. Seeing him like this and knowing/thinking that it's because of her actions... it's going to destroy her and that kills me.#I don't know what she did but I *do* know that she never intended for Rook to get hurt. She loves him too much for that.#but Rook could never blame her for anything. He'd forgive her just about anything. And that will probably only make her feel worse.#Rook and his mentors will never ever fail to fuck me up big time.#his undying devotion and naive faith in them which is such a stark contrast to his usual distrust of people.#and it gets him hurt every time even though the don't *mean* to hurt him. But Sigmar's case was definitely much more malicious than Zara's.#this reunion is going to be such a huge turning point for Rook's character and his personal development as a character.#well really it's a combination of things all happening at once that are going to be the turning point.#1) the fact that the party rescued him from Wolf which has literally no other explanation than that they love him and care about him.#2) seeing Zara again and finally getting that closure that he never got three years ago plus being to reestablish the most important#relationship in his entire life. Plus she's just a good influence on him all-around a much-needed source of support after Sigmar's betrayal#3) getting gifted the Tide Breaker (Zara's old ship) and having to learn some responsibility for once in his life will be very good for him#and I guess you could also say that 4) my temporary character Val talking some sense into him has something to do with it lmao.#but we'll see how this all plays out bc while I know these things are going to happen they technically haven't happened yet.#I'm not gonna RP the conversation between Rook and Val bc it would just be me talking to myself for a long time but I am gonna write it up#when we get to that point so I can show it to the DM so he knows what they talked about. Plus it will be a very fun exercise bc Val was#literally designed to be Rook's opposite in just about every way. They're very wise and responsible and Rook is a reckless idiot.#(but I love him anyways.)#So it's gonna be fun to balance writing both of them in the same conversation.#anyways. these tags are SO FUCKING LONG already. If you read this far I'm giving you your favorite dessert and a hug if you want it.#and also pledging you my undying allegiance for life. <3
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avatar-aaang · 2 months ago
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I had such a good day oh my god
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silent-sentinels · 5 months ago
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tomorrow, tomorrow, i'll love you tomorrow~ <33
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sapsolais · 8 months ago
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<3
#it's 2 am and i'm thinking about drawing all the things that've really made me feel butch lately#it's like a small scrapbook in my heart#lots of smaller moments when i get on my knees and help my kids tie their shoes. or make them smile or laugh by doing something silly#or whenever i do my best to be there for them when they need me#showing my grandpa the leather jacket he gave me after i got it altered to fit me better#going shopping for my mom the day before her birthday party. the moment i drove her home when she wasn't feeling well#���pissing off” my coworker by being polite and doing small things for her like putting her lunch in the fridge when she forgets to put it in#whenever i get all my coworkers food or snacks and insist they don't owe me anything#the other day when i was helping my boss pull weeds with my coworkers and i proudly held up a clump the size of my head like an excited dog#last week when some ladies were trying to start a car that wouldn't turn over and i let them use my battery pack#when i hold the door open for people at the gym#when other queers (friends/mutuals/my kids) say or show that they feel safe around me. like they can be themselves#when i came home the other day after my mom told me my uncle died and came inside and dropped off my stuff#and went to give my grandma a hug. i didn't know what to say. and i sort of knew there was nothing i could say. but i didn't have to#i was just there. and i think i Got It in that moment. like. what it really means. to have someone completely and wholly#collapse into you. even if they're trying not to show it. but you try and hold them together. i think it's about trying#trying to let people know you love them. in everything you are and everything you do.#there's other moments too#like pushing gracie really fast in a shopping cart in an empty parking lot shdjghfnh#or the other day when lyd twitch streamed 2 me and let me quietly fold laundry with them#or when i'm up talking with toast and veronica and 3 in the morning#moments where i'm shown unconditional love and kindness and wholly accepted even if it's just for that moment in time#allowed to be myself without stifling any part of me#if you're reading this i love you#:]#g'night#sap says
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healmydesires · 2 months ago
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cross that line ꕤ (l.h)
part two
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pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
summary: For a long time, you were content hiding your feelings, but lately, the longing for someone you can’t have has become unbearable. Despite knowing he could never be yours, you still cherished the sweet ache in your heart whenever he smiled or gave you a warm, platonic hug. Then, one day, everything changed.
genre: fluff + angst + smut (18+ mdni)
word count: 14k (14k on the dot to be precise but yeah uhm. sorry. I swear I'm normal)
warnings/tags: friends to lovers, roommates to lovers, thunderstorms, idiots in love, mutual pining, assumed unrequited love, jealous!reader, reader is described as shorter than logan, emotional!reader, miscommunication kinda, inexperienced/virgin!reader, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom logan, ok… just in overall bye, logan is soft for reader, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, major size kink, praise kink, dirty talk, oral fixation. some daddy kink? breeding kink aaaaa sorry. I wrote this while ovulating. they’re both FREAKS. scent kink? lots of pet names. this is high key sweet and turns filthy. logan is worshipping his sweet girl ok! reader is a mutant. reader has hair, no further description though. this is not beta read sorry!
a/n: GUESS WHAT!!! user healmydesires is back with another self indulgent fic about a new blorbo! I’ve been having all random kinds of scenarios about logan in my head and I just didn’t know which type of story to go with. until I felt like there weren’t much of inexperienced/virgin reader fics for logan and tbh… that’s kinda my brand (I’m high key kidding but lowkey that’s what I love to write the most) if you’ve read my works so. I thought I’ll write what I WANT to read. so this is high key self indulgent. english isn’t my first language so pls bear with me <3 also ngl.. a lot of it is just smut 😭 I literally wrote this while ovulating… EDIT (19/09): I kinda edited it a bit because it had a lot of grammar mistakes and I'd often jump from present tense to past tense so ye
this goes without saying, but if you don't like it don't read it <3
AO3 • masterlist
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Being roommates with your best friend had its perks. You were together almost all the time, sharing both the big and small moments. As fellow teachers, you could easily swap teaching tips, lend each other a hand with tasks, or offer guidance when you were feeling stuck. Your tall best friend effortlessly reached the top shelves, and you both enjoyed laughter-filled moments during movie marathons. Sharing responsibilities became more fun too—splitting chores like cooking and laundry felt easy and natural. Plus, there was comfort in knowing your best friend was always dependable, ready to support you whenever you needed it. And whenever you were in need of a hug, your best friend was probably already ready to envelop you in his warm embrace.
But it also had its disadvantages.
Especially considering that Logan Howlett, your best friend, was quite the menace.
Logan had always had a rugged handsomeness that effortlessly made people swoon all around him. It wasn't fair how pretty he was. He had always been lucky with finding partners—or rather, when it came to finding bed or sexual partners. He'd often bring those one-night stands or partners to your shared apartment only to have sex with them. Logan had never been the type to stick with one person, always preferring flings over long-term relationships. Or so you thought.
You, on the other hand, had always craved a long-term relationship. You dreamed of finding your true love—someone to share adventures with, to have fun with, and to dive into deep, meaningful and random conversations. You loved the idea of being with someone who let you be your true self, where you could spend hours talking about the most random things—discussing your favourite TV shows one minute, and passionately criticising capitalism and the world the next. You were all about affection, from kissing to being held, but you also longed to hold your partner close and make them feel cherished, just as much as you wanted to feel loved in return.
Unfortunately, you had never had the chance to experience anything like that.
It wasn't like you had never had the chance or had the opportunity to explore and possibly experience a potential relationship. You had just never been really interested in creating a relationship with a stranger.
Plus the thing was, your best friend wasn't just your best friend. You had been in love with Logan for god knows how long.
Charles Xavier was the one who had introduced you both, years ago. You remembered that day very vividly.
You had just arrived at the Xavier Institute, and the professor had offered you a two-sided job, to be a teacher at the school and be part of the X-Men.
You'd always done your best to keep your powers hidden, but being welcomed into a school designed for people like you—a mutant—felt incredibly liberating. That's why you hadn't hesitated when Charles Xavier invited you to his school. You'd always known you were powerful, with the ability to control and manipulate water, but you had kept your abilities a secret, not wanting to be treated any differently in a world that didn't really like or understand people like you.
As the professor took you around the grounds, you couldn't help but be impressed by how big and beautiful it all was.
You were so captivated by the mansion's grandeur and stunning architecture that you didn't even notice a guy casually leaning against the nearest wall outside of Charles's office. But the moment your eyes met his, it felt as if time itself stood still. Looking into Logan's eyes, you felt like you could drown in them. You had never seen anyone so effortlessly handsome.
Completely entranced by him, you almost forgot to introduce yourself. Your body heated up in the moment, and the professor definitely noticed. Logan Howlett gave you a knowing smirk, making the warmth inside you intensify even more.
That day you both became friends, though you still didn't quite understand why, given how different you both were. Logan was gruff and blunt, while you, though capable of being direct, tended to choose your words more carefully. He was passionate and strong-willed and opinionated, and sometimes he let that get the best of him. You were deeply in tune with your emotions, while he always seemed to hold back, keeping certain feelings tightly guarded. Logan was never one to be very straightforward with his emotions. He would rather keep most of them to himself, and didn't want to seem too vulnerable. Communication was something you valued and needed a lot, but Logan, by contrast, didn't seem to rely on it as much. You were an overthinker, always caught up in your thoughts, and he would often step in to ease those worries of yours.
You could say that opposites attract.
Over time, your friendship grew, and one day he asked if you'd like to move in with him into a new apartment near the institute. He craved a bit more peace and genuinely enjoyed your company. It seemed like a good idea, so you thought, why not?
You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with your roommate. All you knew was that one day, you were suddenly overcome by an emotion so intense, it was unlike anything you'd ever felt before. It hit you all at once. Before Logan, you'd never really had a serious crush, never experienced feelings this powerful for anyone. You often told yourself it must have started shortly after you moved in with him, but deep down, you knew that wasn't the truth. This feeling had been quietly growing from the very first moment you met him, slowly building until it became impossible to ignore.
It was funny, you thought, how life had a way of bringing you things—and people—you never realised you needed. People like Logan, who became so essential that you couldn't help but wonder how you had ever lived without them. People like Logan Howlett, who somehow managed to be both your saving grace and your greatest temptation.
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A few months into your roommate arrangement, you still couldn't get used to Logan constantly bringing one-night stands to your shared apartment. It was pure torment.
As you ate cereal at the kitchen island, one of Logan's many one-night stands quietly slipped out of the apartment. You rolled your eyes, as Logan routinely walked them through the apartment to the door, their faces often adorned with sly smiles as they fluttered their eyelashes at him. A knot of anger twisted in your belly as you watched them play with the collar of his shirt, their fingers lingering while he made no move to pull away. You'd never felt such intense rage before. He responded with a grunt as they would casually give him a goodbye kiss.
You hated experiencing feelings like these. It was a gross emotion, a heavy sensation that felt thick and tar-like, clinging to your chest and making you ache with its heavy weight.
Anxiety? Sure, you were often more anxious than most mutants, but that wasn't the feeling you had at this moment. Maybe it was jealousy? You disliked how that emotion fit so easily on your tongue, leaving a bitter taste.
Each time you witnessed these scenes unfold, jealousy and frustration would wash over you. Or how you'd feel utterly awful whenever you accidentally overheard them having sex.
As Logan reentered the apartment and closed the door behind him, you couldn't help but snort. “So, what number are we up to now?”
He stared at you for a moment, before chuckling and shaking his head with a smirk. “Not sure, lost count.” He shrugged, grabbed an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen island, and took a bite.
“What was their name?” you asked, staring daggers at your bowl of cereal.
Logan shrugged again. “I don't know, and honestly, I don't care,” he replied curtly before walking away.
You couldn't understand how he could be so nonchalant about this situation.
It wasn't just jealousy; you longed for any kind of affection or love from Logan, more than you ever thought possible. You were grateful to be his best friend and you knew it might seem foolish to hope for a chance with him, but you couldn't help yourself. Deep down, you feared you'd always feel this lonely, believing you could never fall for anyone but him. He was everything you craved and needed in life.
You felt foolish, constantly embarrassed and rejected. More than anything, you felt hurt, knowing that you were the only one to blame. It was your own feelings that had caused all this pain.
The thought of him one day falling in love with someone else made your stomach sink, but you pushed and suppressed your sadness aside daily. It didn't really matter—Logan was free to date whoever he wanted. He was your best friend, only his best friend.
One day, you'd have to come to terms with the fact that he would always be just your best friend.
You just hoped that one day it would become easier to deal with these feelings.
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It was the middle of a cold winter night — the air cool against your skin, even with your large pink puffer jacket to keep you warm. The thick curtain of night enveloped the sky, painting it a deep midnight blue, with stars twinkling like the clearest diamonds. Despite the cool ambient air, you found yourself relaxing, your shoulders gradually easing.
“You see that there?” you pointed up at the starlit sky, leaning unconsciously into Logan's warmth as you both lay on the grass of the X-mansion grounds. “That's the Pleiades. People often mistake it for the Little Dipper, but it's just a star cluster.”
Logan hummed, but his eyes were focused on you, how you gazed up at the stars with an awestruck expression. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, as he enjoyed how you looked so endearing as you were so engrossed in the stars that you loved so dearly.
He glanced up at the part of the sky you were pointing to, located the cluster of stars you had mentioned. He studied it for a moment and thought he had seen something similar to the Pleiades before, but never illuminated in the night sky like this. Logan's gaze then returned to the earth, settling back on the grass where he lay beside you.
“Beautiful,” Logan whispered as he stared at you. “Truly beautiful.”
You were too busy gazing up at the sky to realise that he wasn't talking about the sky.
For as long as you could remember, you had loved the night sky, finding its dark embrace profoundly comforting. More than that, you adored the stars—coming out at night to bask in their radiance, with their distant coldness soothing your soul.
You had always felt so mesmerised about the universe, especially the stars and the moon. They appeared beautiful, glittering magnificently beside one another as they hovered in the upper stratosphere.
“Why did you bring me out here, Lo?” you finally asked, looking up at your best friend. You noticed him smirk down at you and saw a fleeting hint of hesitant insecurity in his green eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
He shrugged against you, still grinning. “I know how much you enjoy stargazing, and I'm aware you've had a rough week, so I wanted to give you a chance to relax for a bit.”
You softened as you gazed up at him. Logan was right—you had been having a rough week. The children had been sweet, but the workload had been overwhelming. You couldn't help but appreciate how Logan was always looking out for you.
“Thank you…” you whispered.
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He winked before he looked back up at the sky. “Why don't you show me another constellation?”
You giggled as you pointed out another cluster of stars, but more often than not, Logan found it hard to focus on the stars. After all, he had a bright light of his own by his side daily that captured all of his attention.
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A year had passed since you moved in with Logan, and autumn was already around the corner. The temperature was gradually dropping, and the air became crisper. The trees' leaves were starting to fade from vibrant greens to tamer shades of bronze and gold. You had always loved this time of year—it was that perfect season where you could bundle up in layers when you were outside, then retreat indoors in the evenings, getting cosy with a hot chocolate and a good book.
It was during seasons like this that you found yourself wishing you could cuddle up with someone, enjoying a movie or simply each other's company. But it wasn't just anyone you wanted by your side—it had always been Logan for you.
For the longest time, you were content in just keeping all your feelings hidden. Lately, though, the longing had been getting harder to bear. Wanting someone you knew you couldn't have was starting to feel unbearable, slowly eating away at you. And even though you knew he could never be yours, it didn't stop you from savouring the sweet ache in your heart every time he smiled or when he pulled you into a warm, platonic hug.
All the stupid fluttery feelings in your stomach every time his eyes would catch yours, or the way your heart beat fast whenever you were in close proximity to him. You knew it had been years since you'd known Logan, but you couldn't help the effect he always had on you. The way he left you yearning for more. But, of course, you tried to bury those feelings down deep, reminding yourself that Logan could never feel the same way about you as you felt about him.
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One lazy afternoon, with no classes scheduled for you to teach, you found yourself by the lake on the X-Mansion grounds, practising your water bending. The water flowed seamlessly around you as you moved your arms, bending it effortlessly to your will. As you went through each movement, you could feel a pair of eyes on you, observing every precise motion, your muscles tensing with each fluid shift. A light sheen of sweat formed on your brow, and your face held a fierce look of concentration as you focused on perfecting your stance and movements.
Several moments had passed, and the person watching you still hadn't spoken a word. By now, you were almost certain it wasn't just anyone—it had to be Logan. Anyone else would have said something by now, maybe greeted you or asked about your training. But not Logan. He had a way of lingering in silence, watching you in that quietly intense way of his, never feeling the need to fill the space with unnecessary words.
“Well, are you just going to stand there and stare, or do you plan on saying something?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.
Logan grunted, “I think I'll just keep watching. I quite like the view from here.”
A flush of warmth spread across your face, butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach at his words. You hesitated for a moment, pausing your movements before he spoke again.
“Don't stop on my account, sweetheart.”
You knew he was wearing one of his signature grins, and you so desperately wanted to wipe it off his face. As you grew more flustered, a wave of frustration built up inside you—how could this man always have such an effect on you? An idea sparked in your mind, a mischievous smirk tugging at your lips. Deciding to continue your water bending practice while he watched, you let the water flow effortlessly around you, fully aware of his eyes tracking your every move.
Once a peaceful stillness settled in the air, you saw your opening. Without warning, you spun around with swift precision, bending the water toward him and drenching him in seconds.
Logan stood there, completely perplexed as you broke into a fit of giggles. He was drenched from head to toe, and you knew it wouldn't be long before he sprang into action. Sure enough, just seconds later, he smirked again, though this time it carried a sharper edge. “You think this is funny, bub?”
“Yeah, I kinda do,” you replied between laughs, unable to contain yourself.
But then, Logan's grin turned devious, and with a determined march, he began closing the distance between you. Your eyes widened in realisation, and without thinking, you bolted away.
“You're not getting away with this, princess,” he called out, his voice low as he gave chase.
He moved swiftly through the gardens, but you were quicker, slipping just out of sight every time he got close. His eyes darted around, scanning the area, frustration slowly turning into determination. You could hear him muttering under his breath, his footsteps getting louder as he searched for you. Your heart raced as you ducked behind a tree, trying to stifle your laughter. The thrill of the chase had adrenaline coursing through your veins.
For a moment, you thought you had lost him, but then he sniffed and just as you peeked around the tree, you saw him spot you from across the grove. His eyes gleamed with mischief as a smirk curled at the corner of his lips. “I got you,” he muttered before he moved towards you with renewed speed. You tried to slip away again, but it was too late—he had you cornered.
Soon enough, two strong arms caged you in, trapping you between the tree and his chest. A startled yelp escaped your lips as you tried to back away, only to realise there was nowhere to go. “Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, the familiar playful glint in his eyes making your heart race even faster.
You squirmed, trying to find a way out, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you in place without being overbearing. “Logan! Let me go,” you protested, laughter bubbling up in your throat despite your attempt to sound serious.
“Thought you could get away that easily, huh?” he teased, leaning in so close that you could feel his wet clothes and the warmth of his body. The heat from his proximity spread across your own, making you acutely aware of how close you were. You bit your lip, your cheeks becoming hotter as his smirk widened. The sight of your flustered expression seemed to delight him, his satisfaction evident in his playful gaze.
“Well, this is cosy,” you remarked, but your voice barely rose above a whisper. There was a tremor in your tone, one that matched the rapid beat of your heart.
“Hm, I think so too,” he responded with the same teasing tone. You gazed up at him with bright eyes as the golden hour of evening cast a warm glow around you both. It took all his willpower not to look away, not to acknowledge the tension that hung thick in the air.
You shifted against the tree, searching for a different way to elicit a reaction from him. Your touch light, almost accidental, but it sent a shockwave through him, his breath hitching in his throat. You could feel him stiffen, sensing the tension as he reacted to your contact.
He leaned in, just enough that he could feel your breath against his skin, just enough that the space between you became almost non-existent, and just enough to hear your breath hitch.
Logan closed his eyes, as he pressed his forehead against your own. Every time he tried to speak, the words got tangled up in the mess of emotions swirling inside him. All he could think about was how close you were, how your touch burned through him, how the smell of you, that unique soft scent of yours, filled his senses and made him want to lose himself in you.
“Lo—”
Before you could finish, Ororo's voice rang out, calling your name. You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you as you realised your moment with Logan was interrupted. You had forgotten about the promise to cook together with her and Jean, and your friend's timing burst the bubble of what you thought might finally be a shared moment with him.
He grunted in frustration, pulling away from you and looking off to the side. Ororo, Jean, and even Scott soon found their way to you, their presence drawing closer. As they approached, each of them wore a grin that suggested they had noticed the tension between you and Logan. The air was thick with unspoken understanding, and it was clear that your friends had picked up on the charged moment that had just been interrupted.
You cleared your throat and stepped reluctantly away from Logan, trying to regain your composure. You forced a smile as you addressed your friends, saying, “Sorry to keep you guys waiting.” You then walked away with Jean and Ororo towards the mansion, though you couldn't help glancing back over your shoulder. Each time you looked, a hint of longing appeared on your face as you cast a final, wistful glance at Logan.
As you walked away, you heard Scott remark, “You look wet.”
Logan responded with a huff, “Fuck off, Summers.”
You couldn't help but wonder what would've happened if your friends wouldn't have interrupted you.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
It had been Friday evening, and you were in your office at the institute, finishing up grading the last of the papers while waiting for Logan. The two of you had plans to head home together, but he had yet to come and find you. Growing impatient, you decided to look for him yourself. You grabbed your bag and jacket before going out of your office, closing the door silently behind you. The smell of stew wafted through the mansion as you jogged down the stairs from your office to the kitchen. You quietly approached and paused when you saw him with Jean. She was chopping vegetables, while Logan leaned against the island, holding a cup of coffee.
“I don't see why you don't just do it. Everyone can see how perfect you two are for each other,” Jean had sighed.
Your eyes widened and you bit your lip nervously as you instinctively hid behind the wall. You truly hoped Logan wouldn't smell your scent while hiding, considering his heightened sense of smell. You knew you shouldn't be eavesdropping, but your curiosity had gotten the better of you. Jean's words had left you intrigued about what they were discussing.
Logan huffed, “I've already told you—” he tried arguing, but Jean cut him off mid-sentence.
“Logan, come on,” Jean said pointedly. “You keep denying it, but everyone here has seen the two of you dance around each other for years. You can't honestly tell me that you're just friends. Friends don't act the way you two do with each other.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Logan asked, tilting his head to the side. Your stomach churned as you realised they were talking about the two of you. Silently, you pressed your back against the wall and shuffled further behind it, continuing to listen.
“It means that friends don't stare at each other longingly, or they don't flirt with each other, and they certainly don't cuddle together while sharing the same bed,” Jean said, emphasising her point as Logan began to argue. “Besides,” she continued, “you've known her for a while now. There's no one you've been more comfortable with than her. We all know you'll look after each other and be happy together. So why haven't you done anything about it? All we want is for you both to be happy,” Jean concluded.
You bit your lip at her words, feeling a mix of hope and nervousness churn in your stomach. With trembling fingers, you held your breath, waiting for Logan's response. When you heard him sigh, you felt your world begin to crumble around you.
“Yeah, but Jean, it's not like that. We are not like that. We're just friends,” Logan had replied. You had pressed your teeth harshly into your lip, biting down so hard you feared you might draw blood. It was the only thing keeping you from sobbing out loud. Logan's words replayed over and over in your mind. While you had always known he felt that way, hearing it confirmed so casually had left your heart breaking.
Not wanting to listen any longer, you silently turned and hurried toward the main entrance, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once outside, tears flooded your vision as you ran to the mansion gates, searching through your bag for your phone to call a cab. Since you hadn't brought your car and had driven in with Logan that morning, calling a cab was your only option.
When the cab finally arrived, you slid into the backseat and gave the driver your instructions. As he drove you home, you took a deep breath, struggling to swallow the lump in your throat. Your breath came in labored gasps as you fought to keep from breaking down in tears. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you tried to process his words. Silently you let the tears flow down your cheeks.
When you arrived at your building, you paid the cab and noticed your phone buzzing incessantly. You quickly silenced it as you entered your apartment, not bothering to look at who was trying to contact you.
Once you entered your bedroom, you broke down just then as you let out a choked sob while stripping off your clothes. With great effort, you managed to put on your pyjamas before climbing into bed. Soon, you would let your destructive thoughts take over. Deep down, you knew you shouldn't have eavesdropped on their conversation and jumped to conclusions, especially since Logan wasn't done speaking with Jean. But you couldn't bear to stay and listen any longer. You felt too vulnerable as you let his words echo inside your head.
You had been ignoring all the texts from your friends and the calls from Logan specifically, too drained to even hold a conversation.
Eventually, you felt sleep overtaking you, utterly exhausted from a long workweek and an emotionally draining evening.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
That same night, you had jolted awake to the sound of a loud rumble. Outside, storm clouds loomed ominously over the city, with thunder crackling through them every few minutes. The storm had been raging outside your apartment, with thunder booming so fiercely it shook the windows. Curled up in your bed, you had whimpered softly, clutching a thick blanket tightly around you—not just for warmth, but for comfort and a sense of protection.
You had never liked thunderstorms, and by now, you must have tried a thousand different ways to distract yourself from them. You'd put on headphones to drown out the noise, but the knowledge of the storm outside still fed your anxiety. Thunderstorms always had a way of making you feel small and utterly helpless.
You felt a tightness building in your chest as you trembled beneath the sheets. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing and calm yourself down. In moments like these, you felt truly helpless. You knew you shouldn't feel ashamed for being this terrified, but you couldn't help it.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the song playing through your headphones, desperate to drown out the storm. Moments later, you felt the bed dip. Slowly, you opened your eyes and found Logan sitting at the end of your bed, his soft gaze fixed on you with a look of quiet concern. A wave of relief washed over you just at the sight of him. Part of you wanted to ignore him and continue being upset with everything that had happened earlier that evening, but you couldn't find the power to do so. After all, he probably didn't even know why you were upset and who were you even kidding, he was everything you needed.
He was sitting there shirtless, dressed only in a pair of grey sweatpants. His hair was tousled from sleep. If it weren't for the sheer terror you felt because of the storm outside, you knew your cheeks would be burning at the sight of him like this. You noticed his mouth moving and, reluctantly, you slid one headphone off your ear to hear him.
“W-what?” you squeaked, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Sweetheart,” Logan whispered cautiously into the darkness.
At the sound of his voice, the tears that had been brimming in your eyes finally spilled down your cheeks. “I'm so sorry, I feel so stupid,” you whispered, taking off your headphones and quickly trying to wipe your tears away, embarrassed by your emotions and the fact that you were terrified by the storm.
Seconds later Logan was climbing up the bed and he was lying right next to you. His strong arms wrapped around your shaking form almost immediately, holding you tightly.
“Shhh it's okay sweet girl, I've got you,” he whispered softly as he kissed your temple. Warmth spread through you at the action and you melted into his embrace.
“I hate being scared of them, Lo,” you mumbled into his chest as he squeezed you tightly.
“It's okay princess, I got you. I won't let anything happen to you.” His hands, surprisingly soft, were stroking your skin in a soothing manner as he continued to press soft kisses around the top of your head.
As Logan held you, you felt yourself slowly begin to calm down. Even though the storm showed no signs of letting up, his presence made you feel much more at ease and secure. Logan meant everything to you—he was your anchor.
“Please, stay,” you whispered as the last few tears slipped down your cheeks.
In the dark, Logan whispered your name and tightened his embrace. “I'm not going anywhere, baby girl.”
As Logan held you close, you felt your body relax gradually. He gently ran his hand through your hair, pulling the covers over both of you and adding an extra layer of warmth.
You reflected on how he often spoke to you and the way he treated you with such care. You couldn't help but overthink his sweet and gentle treatment. You knew you were more emotional and needed extra reassurance and patience, but you had never considered that he might actually have feelings for you beyond friendship. You often felt like a burden to your friends and especially to Logan. You were fairly certain you were the only one he treated this way. His teasing sometimes seemed like it could be flirting, and despite your attempts to deny it, deep down you sensed that you were somehow special to him. 
But another part of you couldn't shake what he had said earlier that night to Jean. You felt deeply conflicted and confused about everything happening between the two of you. The uncertainty and mixed emotions left you struggling to understand his true feelings, unsure of how to navigate the situation.
So you did what felt best to you, which was communicating. Even if you hated confrontation so much, you hated being unsure even more.
“Lo?” your voice trembled as you whispered against him.
“Yeah, sweet girl?” He said gently.
You took a little longer to respond, lost in your own thoughts, overthinking everything. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest. Sensing your hesitation, Logan spoke up again, breaking through your spiralling mind.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice lingering in the air as your eyes fluttered open. His head was tilted slightly, worry etched across his face.
“'M-am fine… I just—” you stuttered, your voice cracking. Logan stared at you, waiting patiently for you to finish. “I need to talk about something, or-or it will probably eat me alive if I don't.”
Logan's brow furrowed as his concern deepened, but he remained patient, waiting for you to continue.
“I- I overheard you and Jean earlier tonight…” your voice barely above a whisper.
Recognition settled over him at your words. He sighed shortly after. “What exactly did you hear?”
“You said…” your voice faltered, cracking slightly before you took a deep breath, closing your eyes. “You said we weren't like 'that,' and that we were just friends. After hearing that, I couldn't stay. It hurt too much.” You paused, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I know I shouldn't have eavesdropped, and I'm sorry... I just—” Your voice trailed off as you buried your face in his chest, your rambling finally coming to an end.
He let out a deep sigh, pulling you closer into his embrace. One of his hands gently cupped your cheek, causing your breath to hitch at the contact. “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice steady but filled with warmth. Slowly, you opened your eyes, tears welling up as you met his gaze. Logan's expression softened, and he let out a soothing sound. “Angel, if you'd stayed a little longer, you would've heard the rest of the conversation.”
“W-what?” You squeaked, your heart pounding against your chest as you anxiously waited for him to continue.
“First of all,” he began, locking eyes with you as he spoke, “I told Jean that I couldn't tell you how I felt because I never thought you'd feel the same way. I figured you were better off not knowing how I feel about you because…” His voice faltered for a moment, a heavy sigh escaping him before he continued, “I've always believed I didn't deserve someone like you. Someone so beautiful, so patient, intelligent, caring and so sweet.”
“Lo—” It was difficult to process everything he had said. You had been so sure that he didn't feel anything more than platonic for you, so hearing that he did was overwhelming and you needed to let it sink in. “I just thought... you know, with all the people you've had over in the past, you wouldn't feel anything for me,” you said, your sadness making it hard to finish the sentence and your nerves bracing for the words you had been dreading to hear.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​
“I know it sounds stupid, but I kept convincing myself that if I would have meaningless sex with random people that I would get over you. That if I told you how I felt, I’d lose you,” he went on, his vulnerability tugging at your heart. “That’s the last thing I want. You mean too much to me to risk that. I love you, and the thought of losing you—even if it meant not having you the way I wanted—was unbearable.”
Tears welled in your eyes, slowly slipping down your cheeks as he poured out his heart, leaving you in disbelief. You hiccuped through your tears, “You... y-you love me?”
His expression softened further as he took in your puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Gently, he used his hands to wipe away the tears that were slipping down your cheeks, handling you with far more tenderness and care than you had shown yourself earlier.
“Of course I do,” he replied softly. “In every universe, there's no one I love more than you.”
“Logan, you deserve me. Just as much as I deserve you,” you said, cupping his cheeks as tears continued to stream down your own. “You don't have an idea how much I love you.”
Logan smiled softly before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. His arms tightened around you as he began to pepper your face with tender kisses. You couldn't help but giggle against him, feeling the tension between you both melt away bit by bit. The tears slowly came to a stop.
As the emotional intensity of the moment subsided, you felt a sense of relief and contentment. The storm outside seemed to fade into the background as you basked in the warmth of your newfound understanding. You knew that challenges would still come, but facing them together felt infinitely more manageable now that you had acknowledged your feelings for each other.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​
After placing a final kiss on the tip of your nose, he pulled back, his gaze filled with such deep affection that it left you feeling overwhelmed—but in the best possible way.
Logan caressed your face with fondness as he admired you. “You’re beautiful.”
You’d feel flustered instantly. “You’re so handsome Logan.” You whispered timidly. 
“Really?” He’d smile down at you. 
“Yes,” you whispered, continuing to meet his gaze shyly, your heart racing as his touch lingered on your skin.
You felt his hand slip beneath the hem of your nightshirt, his fingers tracing the soft skin of your back. A shiver ran down your spine at his touch, drawing his playful gaze as his eyes glinted mischievously. Your breath hitched when his other hand brushed against your bottom lip, sending warmth flooding through your body as his touch became more intimate, exploring you with quiet intensity.
“Do I make you nervous?” he teased with a devious grin.
“I guess you do,” you admitted, biting your lip bashfully.
“And why's that?” Logan asked, leaning in even closer. You could feel his breath against your lips, his nose brushing gently against yours. 
There’s a moment of silence as Logan’s face moves closer and closer to your own, both unable to verbalise just how desperate either of you feel for each other.
His hands are warm as they wander all over your back, underneath the soft fabric of your pyjamas. Your eyes flutter close as you enjoy his attention. You feel yourself get lightheaded by his affection and by the close proximity of your bodies.
As your eyes remained locked with his, the intensity between you grew. You found yourself studying every detail of Logan’s face—the small moles scattered across his skin, his beautiful green eyes, the rough stubble along his jawline. Your gaze drifted from his eyes, down the slope of his nose, until you were irresistibly drawn to his lips. His mouth looks so inviting.
How much you’ve dreamed of having them on your own.
You swallowed dryly at the intensity behind his eyes, your heart beating madly in your chest. A flare of heat rushed to your cheeks as you resolved to reveal the truth. You didn’t want to keep it from him any longer, especially with him looking at you as if he was about to devour you.
“B-because I—” you finally spoke as you stumbled over your words. You felt weak in his presence, but in the best way imaginable. Heat spreads through your body, a feverish sensation overwhelming your senses. Your heart raced, refusing to calm down, and your limbs trembled uncontrollably. It wasn’t the kind of fever that came with illness, but a warmth—tingling, like anticipation coursing through your veins. You whimpered as the same warmth settled between your thighs. “I need y-yo—”
Before you could finish your sentence, his lips crashed onto yours, kissing you with an intensity and passion that left you trembling and helpless, while soft whimpers escaped your throat. He’d tug your body fully closer against his own as his mouth claimed yours.
All your thoughts overwhelmed your brain, disabling any rational understanding of what was going on. Gradually, you leaned into Logan, melting into his embrace. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him back.
Logan groaned as he continued to kiss you with a fierce intensity, giving everything he had. You felt his tongue tracing your lips slowly. Knowing what he wanted you parted your mouth slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue inside and swirl it around yours.
You absorbed all his passion, savouring the warmth of his closeness and the sensation of his rough yet soft hands holding you tightly. You didn’t want to ask how this was happening, nor did you dare question whether it was real or just a dream.
One of his hands roamed over the bare skin of your back beneath your pyjama shirt, leaving goosebumps in his wake, while the other explored the tender curve of your neck. He held you with such tenderness as his mouth continued to move ferociously against yours.
You whimpered against him as warmth and wetness continued to pool between your thighs, your pussy throbbing as his voice rumbled with a chuckle. “You okay there, kitten?” he asked softly, his voice low as his lips brushed against your jaw.
You knew he could smell your arousal, knew he could hear how fast your heart was beating. You bit your lip, trying to stifle another sound, and you tried to bury your face into his chest, feeling the heat spreading across your face and body. Logan was having none of that, his lips quickly reunited with yours. He groaned softly, a deep rumble in his chest, as you trailed your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opened for you without hesitation. His hands gripped at your waist and brought your body flush against his.
You wanted Logan to consume your very being. Claim you as his completely.
Soft little noises of pleasure kept leaving your mouth as he continued to kiss you. His lips pressed against yours, guiding the kiss with a gentle control that made you melt into his embrace. You surrendered completely, letting him lead as you revelled in the sensation. He was so good at kissing that all you wanted was to stay in this moment with him forever.
He pulled away after what felt like hours to breathe, his warm pants fanning across your heated face. He was still holding your face with one hand, and his thumb on your cheek moved a little, stroking your skin with so much tenderness. Murmuring against your lips, he said, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I love you so much.” before delving back in for more.
You whimpered as he nipped at your bottom lip, then gently swiped his tongue over it to soothe the sting. You gasped, and Logan seized the moment to explore the inside of your mouth with his tongue once again. As the kiss grew more heated, you moaned, feeling lightheaded and dizzy.
Surprisingly, you completely forgot about the storm that’s raging outside.
Logan devoured you, pouring all his love into you and claiming your mouth and kissing you with so much passion, your body shuddered with want, from the need for him. He moved his lips with yours and swirled his tongue with your own. His hand then moved to tangle in your hair as he pressed his body to yours completely.
Your hands moved to bury in his hair as well. When you pulled at his hair it was a bit rougher than you intended to and it tips his head all the way back and he lets out a loud, wanton moan that makes your whole body flush with arousal. You whined as he finally pulled away, as he left your body flush and panting and craving so much more.
His mouth then moved from your lips to your cheeks as he whispered his love for you again and again. He started trailing long, hot kisses down your jaw and neck. You whimpered pitifully as he suckled lightly on the side of your neck, tilting your head back instinctively to bare more of your soft skin to him.
“Fuck, baby, you’re everything.” He groaned as he bit down gently on the junction of your neck and shoulder. You cried out, impulsively grinding your hips against his own, desperately searching for some much needed friction against your throbbing clit. “You’re mine.” He’d growl against your skin.
You gasped, your eyes flying open when you felt his erection pressing against your pussy. You moaned as your core started clenching around nothing, begging for some attention, his attention.
Logan groaned as you continued to grind against him, grasping your hips into his hands to halt your movements. You whined in protest, as he then rolled you both over, hovering above you as he pinned your arms gently against the mattress.
“So needy.” He chuckled as a devious smile would grow on his face. “Does your sweet little pussy want some attention?” He grinned when you whimpered underneath him, before he continued. “I can always smell how much you need me.” He growled before he rolled his hips against yours again. “This virgin pussy is always begging for me to fill her.”
You didn’t have time to become embarrassed as high pitched whimpers slipped past your lips as he continued to grind against you. You’ve craved this man so bad, and now that he was yours you didn’t want to hold back anymore. He intertwined your hands together as he moved his big straining and clothed cock against your now soaked panties. 
“Love those little noises you make for me, such a good girl.” He moaned against the skin of your neck as he pressed open mouthed kisses and licks across your skin. 
You whined as he gave you a particular hard thrust. You could feel how massive he felt as he rubbed his cock against your clothed folds. You couldn’t deny that it made you nervous but all you could think about was that you needed and wanted him to take you so bad. More wetness would pool down your heated cunt as you fantasise about him filling your tiny pussy with more than just his cock. “Ah, n-need yo-you Lo…”
Suddenly everything became overwhelming, the temperature in the room rising quickly, the feel of his thick cock thrusting against you, the feel of his touch as it wandered all over your skin and the fact that you were going into a foreign but intimate territory with your best friend had you feeling hot all over.
His features softened as he took in how overwhelmed and flustered you looked. He slowed down his movements and one of his hands would move to hold your face as he slowly leaned down to peck your lips. “You’re okay baby girl, I’ve got you. I will take good care of you.” He whispered against your lips. His low voice sent a new wave of arousal down your body. “Tell me what you need, kitten.”
“You, I need you, Logan. I've always only needed you,” you whimpered against his lips as you reconnected them. His hands gently caressed your thighs, and your mind became hazy with intense lust and overwhelming love for him. Your brain instantly turned into mush as you continued to kiss each other passionately.
The kiss then increased with an intensity that had you gasping for breath. You rolled your hips into his, rubbing your throbbing clit against him for some friction against your core. You moaned into his mouth as you rubbed against him. The front of his sweatpants strained as he moved along with you.
As you kept losing yourself in the kiss, you felt his hands wander up your thighs up to the hem of your shirt. His fingers brushed delicately over the sides of your ribs, moving up and down your skin repeatedly, his fingertips mapping out every dip and curve as they wandered all over your skin.
“You're beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, admiring you, making you glance up at him shyly from beneath him. He pulled away just slightly only for him to hold the hem of your shirt, and you could tell what he was about to ask before he opened his mouth. You bit your lip and nodded vigorously, causing him to chuckle breathlessly. “You want me to take this off?” He questioned as he tugged at the fabric gently. 
You nodded bashfully, unable to use or trust your voice during that moment. 
He smiled softly, his hands gently brushing under your shirt before hooking his fingers into the fabric. Slowly, he lifted it, and you raised your arms to help him slip it off.
You felt heat rising on your skin the way his eyes roamed all over you, taking in every little detail. The way Logan was looking at you, eyes filled with nothing but love, adoration and lust, made you feel so alive.
He discarded the piece of clothing to the side and began mouthing along your collarbone with affection. You trembled underneath him as he showered you with his attention. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered repeatedly as his mouth travelled all over your exposed skin.
His large hands moved to the curve of your waist where it met your hips and clutched it, holding you tight as he littered damp kisses and nips to your shoulders and any skin along the way down to your breasts. You whimpered as he traced the tip of his nose over the swell of your breast.
He smirked as he looked up at you, breathing in through his nose as he inhaled your scent and you couldn’t help but shiver when he exhaled warmly through his mouth and onto your nipple. “Fuck, baby girl, you’re so hot.”
Then, he wrapped his lips around one nipple, teeth just skimming your skin as he sucked and licked with passion.
“L-Lo,” you mewl as you try to grind your hips against him, your cunt seeking friction as it throbs with need.
“Feeling good kitty?” He quipped back as he grins up at you. You felt your skin flush with heat as you just stared down at him. Lust was written all over your face and he had no trouble reading your expression. So he resumed licking, long, lavishing licks with the flat of his tongue over your pebbled nipple as the other hand which was occupying your other breast, travelled all the way down to your panties. 
As his fingers slipped underneath the band of your lacy underwear, down to where you needed him the most, his mouth fell open to unleash a loud groan onto your nipple as he felt your wetness, sliding his fingers between your soaked folds.
He explored your wet cunt patiently. Heat overwhelmed your senses as Logan continued to litter soft kisses all over your chest. Your hands found his head, running your fingers through his hair as his mouth continued to wander all over your naked skin.
Logan’s lips moved slowly down your body, kissing every little place he could find on your skin while his hands traced along.
Soon, he would retreat his hand from your heat, leaving you a whimpering mess. He then leant forward, his face meeting your sex, breathing in the smell of your pussy, running his nose against the damp patch on your underwear. You whimpered as he inhaled your scent. “Fuck kitten,” he growled as he couldn’t seem to stop smelling you. “This pussy smells so good, I can’t wait to taste ya.”
A devious smile played on Logan’s lips as he looked up at you through his eyelashes. “I am sure you taste just as good as you smell, if not better.” He groaned before taking your underwear between his teeth, while pulling it off your legs slowly. A shuddering breath left your lips, speechless as you watched him take off your lacy panties, becoming needier the longer you watched him. Logan kept looking at you as he slid down your body, pulling it off of you when it reached your ankles.
Once he took them off completely he gently pushed your legs wide for him, whimpering as the air hit your wet slit. He took a moment as his eyes took over you, your glistening centre clenching around nothing as he continued to stare at your wet hole. The man between your legs would moan at the sight. Not much later, Logan smirked as he kissed all the way up to your leg, taking his sweet time to give your body the attention you deserved. He pressed soft kisses from your ankles up to your knees, his hands moving along with his mouth, caressing the insides of your thighs as he gradually moved up your legs.
His lips lingered on your thighs, licking and sucking some kisses on your soft skin, Logan’s lips were so close to where you needed him the most yet he felt so far away.
“So pretty,” he murmured as he guided your legs over either of his shoulders.
You were about to beg as his lips detached from your thigh, only for moments later to feel him nuzzling against your pussy, smearing your juices across his lips and opening you up to his skilled tongue.
You gasp and squirm at the contact of his wet tongue.
He then pulls back for a second, “pussy tastes so good,” he moaned before his fingers moved to spread your outer lips for him. “But I think I'm gonna play with my girl for a bit.” Logan smiled as he slid a finger inside of you, watching the way your body squirmed at the sensation, moaning against the pillow next to you as you tried to muffle yourself.
You moaned as he moved his thick and long finger inside your tight walls. “So wet for me baby girl, you’re literally dripping on my finger,” he said before he pressed some kisses on your pubic bone, making you buck your hips in response. “Easy, kitty, we have all night.”
“L-Logan, please please I need more. Need your mouth and just. More. Pleaseeee need you so ba—” your whining got cut off the moment you felt his lips wrap around your clit, sucked it into his mouth, coaxing a loud but broken moan out of you. “F-Fuck!”
You felt like screaming, you didn’t know what to do with your hands, feeling so lost and overwhelmed with the pleasure Logan was giving you already. He dove between your legs, licking a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dipping his tongue into your entrance along with his finger before he travelled up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet appendage before sucking your button into his mouth.
The whine that came out of you only drove Logan to seek out more of those heavenly sounds. As his one single digit pumped in and out of you, you couldn’t help but appreciate that his fingers felt so much more pleasurable and thicker than your own. As bliss overwhelmed your senses, you felt your whole body start to tremble. 
Your core began clenching around his finger, begging for more. He pumped his finger in and out of you at a leisurely pace. Instinctively you tried moving your hips, slowly, grinding against his hand and mouth as he moaned. He gave you an intense look as he continued to fuck you with his finger. His eyes couldn’t seem to stay in one place as he admired how beautiful you were underneath him.
You were panting heavily, barely able to think straight, your mind turning hazy as he slowly slipped a second finger inside your tight channel. 
Logan moved them slowly at first as your pussy tried to adjust to the addition. The stretch was overwhelming but oh so satisfying. Little whimpers left your lips as he fucked you with his fingers. He moved his face back to meet yours, engulfing you in a passionate kiss, swallowing all your little mewls.
You gasped, his tongue slipped inside your mouth, kissing you with so much passion, giving you everything he had to offer. “That feels good doesn't it, princess?” Logan groaned as his thumb made contact with your clit. You bucked your hips and nodded quietly. “Use your words pretty girl,” he taunted while he curled his fingers inside you as he played with the sensitive spot inside you.
“Yes, please please Lo, feels… so good.” You moaned loudly.
Soon his lips travelled all the way down your body as whines and whimpers left your trembling lips, silently begging for more — all while he was still finger fucking you.
Logan inhaled your scent as soon as he leaned forward, but didn’t let you wait in anticipation much longer. He wet his lips before his head dipped between your legs, warm tongue licking a slow stripe across your outer lips, all the way up to your button.
“Ah, fuck!” You cried out, your hips bucking off the mattress. 
Squeaky, senseless noises bubbled up from your throat wantonly. Your hips stuttered against him and he just sighed like there was nothing in the world he'd rather do than this, eating you out on your bed.
You were a mess of his name, chanting and stuttering over and over again like a prayer. Your eyes squeezing shut to the point of tears, his mouth licked up your clit, as he continued to finger you while one of his other hands was holding your hip, pinning you to the soft sheets as you bucked into him, trying to urge him to do more.
The way he build up your arousal by pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you. The familiar coil in your belly continued to build up as Logan suckled on your sensitive bud. Your abdomen tightened as he began quickening his pace again, his fingers hitting into that sweet spot with precision, had your toes curling as you clenched your thighs around his head.
Logan was lapping at you with determination, moving his fingers continuously as he slowly got you to the edge.
“Oh, my—”you whimpered, trembling digits sinking half into his brown hair and the other against your teeth, as you tried to silence yourself. “Fuck, aahh Logan, f-fuck…”
He moaned against you as his lips sealed around your clit and you bucked your hips at the action. Warmth spread throughout your whole body as he began talking you through it. “Fuckin’- you taste so good. Feels so good. You’re just… everything.”
You whimpered as he continued. “Come on,” he grunted as he pumped his fingers faster in and out of you. “Come on baby, cum for me.” 
“Ah, d-daddy,” You gasped loudly as your whole body trembled even more, the hot familiar feeling continued to spread all over your body, your body tingling, your hips moving at their own accord against Logan’s hand and face. Totally unaware of the word that slipped past your lips as your body tensed as he called you ‘a good girl’ and shortly after you came against his mouth and around his fingers. 
“That’s my girl.”
Your whole mind felt like exploding and all you could see were stars. You felt so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and emotions you were experiencing. Your body still trembled as you felt yourself come down from your high.
As you slowly came back to your senses you felt him gently pull his fingers out of your pulsing hole. But you still felt Logan’s mouth on you, licking and sucking at your pussy and it didn’t feel like he was gonna stop any time soon. You whined as he moaned against you while he licked against your tight entrance, licking up your release, his tongue prodding your slick hole.
“‘S too much.” You whimpered at the overstimulation.
Logan ignored your pleas, moaning against your heat as he continued to eat you out. The man you adored so much between your legs kept sliding his tongue up and down your sensitive slit. Your little mewls and other noises of ecstasy spurred him on, to move his lips back up to your clit, sucking the nub softly between his lips. 
“You love having daddy eat your sweet pussy don’t you?” He smirked, looking up at your flustered and embarrassed face as he continued licking your soaked cunt. “No need to be embarrassed, baby. I like it.”
The walls of your pussy clenched furiously, the empty feeling inside you intensifying with every lick, and as your wetness trickled out of you, your core practically begged him to fill it up.
“Oh sweet girl.” Logan tutted as you began grinding your hips against his face as moans kept spilling from your lips. “You’re so sensitive, kitten.” He chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your clit. 
Eventually he leaned down, finally slipping his tongue into your entrance, he curled the muscle upward to brush your walls, the sight of your fingers bunching the fabric of the sheets in a tight grip encouraged him to do it again and again.
Writhing below him, you felt him lick up and press against a sensitive spot inside that had you seeing stars, while your hips bucked against his face uncontrollably. Your fingers moved once again, gripping onto his dark hair rather harshly as you pushed your hips against his face shoving his tongue deeper inside your hole.
“Please,” you begged. “‘M close.”
“Please what?” He taunted as he continued to lick your heat.
“P-please,” you stuttered and paused before finishing timidly. “Daddy.”
“Good girl,” he said before plunging his tongue back inside you as his thumb came up to press against your little bundle of nerves. Moments later, the tension snapped inside your lower tummy, cumming with a loud whine, your hips stuttered as your vision blurred. You cried out his name, your voice unable to remain steady. 
Your hips stuttered until the final waves of aftershock pass. As you slowly came back down to reality again while you tried to catch your breath, you heard him praising you softly while he continued to lap at your wetness gently. You whined and nudged him away with your leg, only to react with a chuckle.
“Taste so good, baby. Could eat your sweet pussy all day.” He grinned as he licked the wetness off his mouth. Logan smirked, holding eye contact with you as he brought his glistening fingers to his mouth.
You giggled as he licked his fingers clean, feeling slightly embarrassed by the action. Trying to hide your flushed face, you lazily raised your hands to cover it, but Logan wasn’t having any of it. With a gentle smile, he placed tender kisses all over your hands, pulling them down slowly. Then, he leaned in closer, pressing sweet kisses to your nose, your forehead, and both your cheeks before finally capturing your lips. Each kiss was playful, filled with warmth, as laughter bubbled softly between you, his grin widening against your mouth.
He pulled away with a satisfied sigh, a warm smile spreading across his face as he reached to touch the side of your neck, tracing his fingertips up and down.
You exhaled as you melted at the feel of his touch and kissed his thumb as it came to trace across your lips. Your shaky legs wrapped around his hips, and with a playful gleam in your eyes, you gave his thumb a tender lick, holding his gaze as you rubbed your still sensitive heat against his clothed cock.
“F-fuck, you can’t just do that kitten.” He groaned as his hands came to hold your hips, stilling your movements.
You whined, pouting as you looked up at him. “Why not?”
“It’s hard to control myself around you.” He grunted as he started grinding his cock against you. Your gaze wandered downward, following the line of the vein near his V-line as it disappeared beneath his grey sweatpants. You couldn’t help but whine underneath him as he continued to grind his covered cock against your growing wetness. You gasped after giving you a particular hard thrust, that’s when you realised and felt he wasn’t wearing any underwear underneath them. He felt massive. “I’ve been trying to control myself for years. I think I’d have to control myself a bit longer.”
“W-why?” you hiccuped as he kept rutting his hips into yours.
“Don’t wanna hurt ya.” He mumbled, as his cock strained against his sweatpants.
“But I know you won’t.” You said, your voice steady, filled with all the confidence you could summon. You watched as his jaw clenched, his grip tightening slightly as he held himself back, resisting the urge to just take you like he always wanted.
“How are you so certain?” His breath hitched when you tightened your legs around him.
“I-I, because I trust you.” You continued to stutter as you both rolled your hips against each other. His eyes darkened with desire, but you could tell he was trying to restrain himself, fighting against what he truly wanted, even though the tension between you was nearly unbearable. Still, you held his gaze, unwavering. “Because you love me.”
Logan groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought to keep control, every muscle in his body tense with the effort. You could see the conflict etched across his face, the battle between what he wanted and what he was trying to hold back. His grip on you tightened slightly, a sign of the restraint still lingering in him, though it was slowly slipping away. His breathing was ragged, and for a moment, you thought he might give in. But then, he swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay still, clinging to the last shred of restraint that hadn’t left him yet. “You don’t know how hard this is,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice thick with desire. “How difficult it’s been, every day since I met you, trying to hold back while being around you.”
“I think I do, Logan,” you whispered, gazing up at him. “Maybe not in the exact way you feel it, but I’ve struggled too, convincing myself daily that I could never have you. And now, realising I could’ve had you from the start—it’s almost unbearable.” You bit your lip, noticing how his expression softened. “That’s why I don’t want us to hold back anymore. I don’t think I can endure it any longer. Please, I need you, Logan. I love you, and I’ll always want you—”
Your words were cut off as Logan surged towards you, cupping your face as he kissed you passionately. His lips moved fervently against yours, as if he was trying to make up for every moment of restraint. Making up for any lost time. The intensity of his kiss made your head spin, your heartbeat quickening as you melted into his embrace. His hands then started roaming around your body, his hold on you tightening occasionally, pulling you closer, while his breath grew heavy as you felt every emotion as he kissed you. You clung to him, pouring out every feeling and emotion out with every heated kiss.
“I love you,” Logan murmured between tender kisses, breathlessly whispering your name.
Your own hands began wandering all over his body and eventually down his solid chest until your fingers met his abdomen, slipping momentarily underneath the waistband of his sweatpants. With a mix of urgency and desire, you tugged at them while whimpering underneath him as you continued to kiss him deeply.
“Just relax, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered softly after pulling away from the kiss. He eventually took it upon himself to slowly peel back, shuffling a bit to rid himself of the last piece of fabric on his body. He tossed it aside, fully exposing himself to your hungry eyes.
Your breath hitched, your eyes wide. Fuck, he was massive. Long and thick in all the right ways. Just as you thought, the vein between his V Lines moved down to his cock. A spark of heat shot down to your pulsing core as you imagined how he would fit or fill you up. But it was also accompanied by a twinge of nerves.
Logan chuckled as he moved closer to you, his lips chasing your own as he enveloped you in another sweet but deep kiss. 
The two of you kissed languidly for a moment, treasuring the heat of each other's bodies as your lips slot together with ease, but soon enough the kisses become deeper, more frantic and hands start to grip tighter and legs tangling together. 
It's like you're both starved, this insatiable hunger for each other. 
You couldn’t help but roll your hips against his to feel his thick cock. You whined as it turned slick as you kept grinding yourself against him, and he had no trouble gliding his hips against you and rutting it into your clit.
You gasped openly into his mouth, desire growing quickly. You were so wet. Logan swallowed your whines with his lips against yours, hips rolling against you. He kissed you full with fervour, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.
He held his length in his hand as he kept rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you were squirming underneath him, and back down. The thought of his thickness finally entering your pussy made you wetter by the second, turning you more on. Logan swallowed your little mewls with his mouth, his hips rolling with yours.
You were trembling against him, full of anticipation. His body covered your whole body with his. You writhed against him, wishing he was just in you already and filling you up and consuming you with pleasure once again.
“P-please, Logan.” You stuttered, your body trembling underneath him as you waited for his next move. 
Logan hummed as he concentrated while circling your clenching hole teasingly. You arched your back slightly as you whined, silently begging to finally fill your pussy the way you’ve always wanted him to do.
“Relax, baby girl.” He whispered after he licked and kissed underneath your ear.
“Please d-daddy, I-I need you.” You whimpered in anticipation. Logan would grunt loudly before nudging the tip of his cock against your soaked hole. Your legs trembled underneath him, a mix of nerves and excitement. “Want you to fill this little pussy. Need you t-to fill it with more than your cock. N-need your cum.” You whispered seductively against his ear as his last bit of restraint snaps. 
At your words, Logan gradually put more pressure on your entrance making you whimper underneath him, once he finally slid his tip inside you, a gasp elicited from the both of you.
You’re aware this was just barely the tip of him, but you couldn’t help but feel the stretch burn already. Logan slid in so slowly it was agonising. You cried out as he gradually pushed more of his pulsing cock inside your own clenching hole. He was so big.
You tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly as you whined underneath him. He panted along with you, his warm breath fanning over your face while he kept his forehead pressed against yours. The stretch stung, but his pace kept it bearable. He guided himself a centimetre further, then another, another, until you were digging your nails into his scalp, a gasp spilling from your lips.
His hips stilled instantly once he heard the pained noises falling from your lips. Tears began to prickle at your waterline, a combination of discomfort and the overwhelming feelings that were coursing through you.
“Doing so good for me baby,” he praised as he peppered your face with gentle kisses. “You’re doing so good for me.”
“Please,” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered close.
Logan continued to move almost painfully slow, letting you adjust to every centimetre of him. After a couple of seconds you were able to relax more into it. You whimpered, clutching his shoulders at the stretch, the heat in your abdomen growing as your walls fluttered around him, pleasure beginning to bloom in your stomach.
“So full…” you whined.
“Such a good girl,” he grunted softly. You think there wasn’t a possibility to get more wet but as he utters those words you felt your heat get even more wet. He leaned down as he kissed your lips gently, as he filled you up bit by bit. He hoped the sweetness of his embrace would soften the sting.
You’re trembling as you canted your hips up, begging for him to fill you to the brim, while you gripped the bedsheets between your fingers. “Please Lo, need more. I can take it, daddy.” You whimpered as you involuntarily and repeatedly tightened around his thick cock.
He groaned at your desperate whines, losing his composure momentarily as he thrust the rest of his length all the way inside your tiny hole. The head of his dick kissing your cervix once he bottomed out. You cried out as you were trembling underneath him, trying to adjust to his size while your pussy kept pulsing around his cock.
“Fuck, so fuckin’ tight.” He hissed as he let you adjust to his cock. 
His lips came to press soft and tender kisses all over your face as he let you relax. Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes as you continued to adjust around him. You felt so full, as if he was made for you, and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely had you seeing stars and digging fingernails into his shoulders. You felt one of his hands finding your hand, lacing them with yours as the other one reached up to your face.
His breathing was heavy as you squeezed his cock repeatedly. Small whimpers left your lips as you squirm underneath him.
You needed more. 
You hadn’t even realised your eyes had drifted shut until you slowly opened them, gazing up at Logan with a soft, pleading look. “Please, Logan.”
“What do you need, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated deep in his chest.
“Need more.” You whispered.
“Aww, does my sweet girl need me to move?” he teased, tilting his head with a playful smirk.
“Need you, please.” You begged as your pussy clenched around his thick cock rather hard which made him groan above you. “Please, I need you to fuck me so bad.”
His breath hitched as he exhaled shakily, before nodding quietly. Slowly, he started moving inside you, gentle but deep. One hand reached down to play with your clit, while the other one went to intertwine your fingers together, holding your hand tightly. 
The sting hurt for a while, but it easily morphed into a more pleasurable feeling as he moved against you. You’re so overstimulated from all your previous orgasms that the sensation he was giving you was mixed between pain and pleasure.
He grunted as he dropped his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin just below it. Soon enough the pain would completely disappear and all you could feel was pure bliss.
Slowly, you were getting used to his girth, anticipating it every time he pulled out of you before moving forward. Your legs are splayed open on either side of his hips as he ground his cock into you. The angle was so good, gradually he would pick up his pace, leaving you a whimpering mess underneath him. As he fucked into you in languid strokes, the sound of slick skin and your noises of pleasure could be heard in your bedroom.
“How do you feel?” he whispered against your ear.
“Feels so good.” You moaned as you tightened around his cock, this time voluntarily.
You whimpered as he picked up the pace, angling himself in a certain way inside you. He finally leaned down to wrap his arms around you, the action elicited a gasp out of you as you grab at the sheets around you, as he fucked you harder and faster.
Every time he’d thrust inside you, his pelvic bone would drag along your throbbing clit, making you cry out his name in pure ecstasy. 
“You’re taking me so well, sweet girl. Doing so so, good for me.” He whispered against your skin as he moved to nuzzle his face against your neck.
Soft grunts fell from Logan’s lips whenever he hit a specific deep spot inside you. You whimpered as his lips moved back up to your lips, enveloping them in a heated kiss. You melted completely against him, holding you close to him as he fucked you. He snaked one of his hands down between your conjoined bodies finding your clit as he rubbed two fingers over the sensitive nub.
At a certain point you felt him slide into a pressure point in your core and coupled with the way his fingers circled your clit, it had you clenching like a vise around his dick. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the pleasure he was providing you. The whimpers that fell from your lips became higher pitched as he picked up his pace.
“Feeling good, kitten?” He groaned, as his lips curled into a mischievous smile as he admired the way your face twisted in pure bliss. Too overwhelmed by the new experience. Filth and praise continued to come out of his mouth as he fucked you. “This pussy was made for daddy.”
His mouth covered your own instead as he swallowed all your little noises of pleasure, you could feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulls tighter with every movement and every touch.
Your whimpers, gasps of pleasure and pants increased as ecstasy and warmth overwhelmed your senses.
“Taking daddy’s cock so well, baby.”
His hands couldn’t get enough of you, sliding around your hips and lower back, wanting to feel all of you, touch you everywhere. You whimpered at the feeling of his speed, feeling another orgasm coming so close, eyes tightly shut and legs locked bruisingly around Logan’s hips. He could feel it too, in the way you clenched and squeezed around his length, and he began to drive even harder into your pussy as he tilted his hips gently, searching for the one place that he hoped would blow your mind.
“Ah, daddy—” you hiccuped as he fucked you so good you felt like a blabbering mess. “Need you to come inside my pussy...”
“Is that what you want?” He growled as you pulsed around him. “Can’t believe it… it’s your first time and you’re already begging for me to cum inside. So filthy. You’re close aren’t ya?”
You nodded furiously as your arms trembled as they wrapped around him, your nails digging in his back as he moaned on top of you. The feeling of the coil tightening in your belly, was tingling down to your legs, ready to snap at any moment.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, cursing under his breath when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “Bet you’d look even prettier with my cum inside your pussy. All full and messy.”
“Please…” you moaned as you thought about him filling you up. “Please Lo, baby, daddy… please fill this pussy up.”
He grunted as he buried his face into your neck as he fucked into you, making the whole bed rattle at his force.
“You want to cum pretty girl?”
You nodded frantically at his words while your eyes fluttered close as you bit your lip harshly. You were bucking up beneath him, nails digging into his skin even more as his hand moved back to your clit as another came to intertwine your hands together, pinning them to the bed. He rubbed your clit with enough pressure to ensure you’ll cum around him.
“Cum for daddy.” Logan demands softly.
And when he finally nudged against that spot inside you coupled with his deep voice– you were exploding, shattering, and detonating all at once, as you cried out his name. Blood was rushing so wildly in your ears that you couldn’t possibly hear the way you wail and sob as he crashed his lips onto yours, swallowing all your noises. Your head lolled back, your back arching violently as you twist and contort in pleasure underneath him.
“That’s it, good girl.” Logan moaned in your ear as your walls spasmed and pulsed around his cock, begging him to cum inside, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pushing himself up as he thrust deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “You want me to fill this pussy up? Make it all messy?”
You were still in a daze but you were able to understand him so you nod vigorously at his words, whining even more at the sensitivity. Your pussy squeezed around his cock in anticipation. “Please…”
“Fuck, take it baby.” It washed over him instantly, hips stuttering into you as he grew desperate, eyes squeezing shut when he felt his cock throb inside of you before hot spurts of his seed splashed along your walls, painting them in ribbons of white. The warmth of his seed filled you up and spread inside your pussy. The feeling made you whimper, limbs limp on the bed as he shallowly thrust into you, making sure you took every last drop. 
His warm cum filled you up deeply, the mild heat of it settling deep inside you and causing you to squirm under him. Logan panted as he let his body slump against yours. He rested on top of you, trying to steady his breath. His cock was still nuzzled deep within you, still half hard as it kept his cum from leaking out.
It was a blurry haze when you came back to your senses, your whole body was aching whilst simultaneously feeling the most relaxed you've ever been, equally as exhausted as it was energised, and you didn’t bother trying to question why. Just pure contentment.
Once both of you caught your breaths, Logan leaned his forehead against yours before kissing you tenderly.
“That was…” He breathed, smiling tiredly at the complete dopey mess he's made of you; hair all over the place and eyes lidded heavily, heated skin glowing and your lips looking swollen from all the kisses you’ve both shared.
“Oh yeah, that was mind blowing.” Your voice came out hoarse, still recovering from the height and volume it had gone, and you cleared your throat gently before you smiled up at him.
“I love you.” He whispered before he captured your lips in a deep and lazy kiss. You could feel his soft mouth smiling against yours as you whimpered against him. You felt yourself melting against his embrace as he wrapped his arms around you.
“I love you too.” You whispered back against his mouth. 
You shifted slightly when you felt that he was still hard inside you. Biting your lip, you squeezed purposely around him at the realisation. Logan groaned at the feeling, his large palms sliding up your sides in a soothing manner. 
“Don’t do that.” Logan grumbled but you saw a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Why not?” You giggled as your hands trailed through his hair.
“Makes me wanna fuck you again.” Your boyfriend mumbled.
“Hm, that’s kind of the point.” You continued to giggle.
Logan chuckled as he pulled his head back, looking at you with a mirthful smile.
Before you knew it, he pulled out only to man handle your body in the position he wanted you to be. Manoeuvres your body until you’re on your tummy. His hands came to hold your hips, pulling them up, your ass in the air for him.
He kneads the flesh of your cheeks before spreading them apart for him. Your body slumps slightly forward with exhaustion but Logan is quick to grip your hips, holding you in the same position. “Oh kitten, I’m not done with you yet.” He tutted. 
Your cheeks flushed with heat as you prepared yourself for a long night filled with passion.
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thank you for reading 🩷🩷🩷
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ariaste · 6 months ago
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listen ok so i made some good jokes yesterday about Lestat having an onlyfans but i am back today with a new essay and this one is entitled
Why The Invention Of Social Media Is Going to Permanently Save Loustat's Fucking Marriage
come on this journey with me.
ok so on one hand we have Louis, who does not like to leave the house except when he absolutely fucking has to and even then he resents it. my man wants to be at home with a book 100% of the time and he's so fucking valid for that. When he leaves the house, bad things happen to him. He has learned this and honestly i can't fault his evidence. it sucks out there. it truly incredibly sucks out there.
the problem is that sometimes he is married to lestat, who starts clawing at the walls if people aren't paying attention to him for 12 consecutive seconds, and being Out Of The House is the best place for him to go foraging for People To Pay Attention To Him. my man once had a rock star career the way that some people get addicted to meth brewed in a trashcan in someone's garage. Louis, through no fault of his own, is simply not capable of filling this psychological need no matter how hard he tries, except he should not even HAVE to try like that, because no one can do it, because Lestat is fucked up and like wasn't hugged enough as a child or something
this imbalance in their relationship is the core source of all their marital problems since day 1: THIS man's idea of a good time is chilling on the sofa in silence and maybe staring contemplatively at the wall for a while, and THIS man starts self-destructing at a truly astonishing rate if no one is making eye contact with him. If you make Louis go outside and socialize with people, he's miserable and sulking and whining about "are we done can we go home". If you make Lestat sit in silence in a chair for five minutes he starts crying and claiming that No One Has Ever Loved Him, Ever, Ever, And No One Understands Him, And He Hates Everyone In This House and He Is Being Actively Neglected And Cruelly Mistreated Right Now And No One Even Bothers To Feel Sorry For Him, This Is BASICALLY Domestic Violence Against Him Personally, If Only Anyone Knew About The Quiet Hidden Tragedies Of An Unhappy Marriage, and then he breaks some furniture and a window and isn't seen again for six weeks and comes back like "you will not believe what just happened, i [checks notes] met Merlin and also a dragon who gave me three wishes, brb i'm going to write another book about it :))))"
all you fucking have to do to fix their problems is to hand Lestat a cellphone and say the words "do you know about social media? you can say whatever shit you want and there's always someone awake in some time zone to talk to you." Suddenly Lestat is now very interested in sitting quietly on the couch, Lounging Alluringly and posting thirst traps on instagram and finally getting emotional fulfillment from all the likes and comments of "omg???? omg this is the hottest man alive". he does not have to leave the house anymore to get his attention meth. His yawning abyss of neediness is being fulfilled by having parasocial relationships with millions of strangers online who all think he's sexy and don't have to experience how fucking awful he is up close. he can flirt pointlessly with 200 people at once which is FINALLY ENOUGH FLIRTATIONS FOR HIM TO SATISFACTORILY JUGGLE
Meanwhile Louis is 3 feet away, vaguely reflecting to himself that HE is feeling all emotionally fulfilled because they're spending this great Quality Time together in perfect silence while he reads his book and Lestat plays on his cellular telephone and only OCCASIONALLY giggles to himself or says "louis which of these photos do you think is sexier, the one with four buttons undone or the one with five buttons undone" Louis is feeling like his Opinion is being Valued, Louis feels like he is being Consulted on Matters that are Important To Lestat. He has opinions about the photographs. It is not that much trouble to be interrupted from staring philosophically at the wall to spend five seconds looking at a photograph and then saying "that one". Finally he is experiencing Cozy Domesticity. he is so horny about it. lestat is surprised and bewildered about the sudden sharp increase in the amount of sex he is now getting but before he can make any vaguely mean comments about it (bc he's confused and vaguely defensive and worried that it's going to stop out of nowhere and he doesn't know any other interpersonal skills for expressing a thought) his phone pings about how he's just broken 5 million followers on instagram and he totally forgets to even mention the sex thing, which means that he continues getting the sex instead of inciting an argument about the sex and going through his 800th divorce from Louis
all their friends are extremely confused when a whole month, and then six months, and then a year goes by without another Loud Divorce happening and no one crashing through their front door like "I HAVE TO SLEEP IN YOUR GUEST COFFIN FOR THE NEXT MONTH, HE IS INTOLERABLE". They are worried. they are concerned. what is going on over there. are they both dead. no, they can't both be dead, Lestat just posted another tiktok of him sucking on his own fingers, which he would not be doing if Louis were dead. there is an ecosystem collapse happening in the groupchat and it's because the main Drama Vectors have been neutralized
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