#The answer is YES of course it's YES if your heart says that you were friends then YOU WERE FRIENDS

[polgarawolf1]

Omigods, this made me CRY for Hondo Ohnaka!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dammit, Hondo, YES, the answer is YES, whether Obi-Wan or Anakin or Ahsoka or those younglings ever really knew it or not, YOU WERE FRIENDS. You were friends with/to them ALL.

STAR WARS REBELS 2.06, Brothers of the Broken Horn

[arcadia-smith]

Unrequited love. (I will always think that this is something that breaks hearts painfully slow)

Simon Riley x Reader.

You’ve always known that loving Simon Riley was a dangerous thing. Not because of the nightmares that clawed at his mind or the ghosts that followed him like a shadow. No, it was dangerous because he never saw you the way you saw him.

And maybe that was your fault. Maybe you should have walked away before the feelings sank in too deep, before your heart curled around him like ivy, clinging even when it hurt.

But you never did.

Not when he smiled at you, a rare thing that made your chest ache. Not when he held you close after missions, his breathing unsteady, as if he needed to remind himself that you were still there. And certainly not when he whispered your name like a prayer in the quiet hours of the night.

It was easy to believe you meant something to him.

Until her.

She was everything you weren’t. Soft laughter and bright eyes, warmth in the way she touched him, an ease in how she held his attention. And he looked at her the way you had spent years looking at him.

You remember the exact moment you knew.

It wasn’t when he first mentioned her name, or even when he started spending more time away. It was when he showed up at your door, eyes shining in a way you’d never seen before.

“She said yes,” he breathed, almost disbelieving.

And you smiled.

God, you smiled so wide it hurt, because that’s what friends do. They don’t break apart in front of the people they love. They don’t let the cracks show.

So you pulled him into a hug, let him crush you in his arms as he whispered about how happy he was. You buried your face into his shoulder, blinking back the sting in your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Because he never looked at you like that.

And he never would.

—

You don’t go to the wedding.

You have an invitation, of course. It sits untouched on your counter, the elegant lettering spelling out his name alongside hers, mocking you every time you pass it.

Soap calls. Gaz texts. They ask if you’re coming, if you’re okay, if you need anything. You lie through your teeth, tell them you’re sick, that you’re busy, that you don’t want to intrude.

Simon doesn’t call.

You don’t think he notices your absence until much later.

Maybe it’s when the party winds down, when he’s alone for the first time in hours, when the realization creeps in like a whisper.

Maybe it’s when he looks around the reception, searching for you without even realizing he’s doing it. When he catches Soap's somber expression, the way Gaz avoids his gaze.

Maybe it’s not until years later, when the honeymoon phase fades and real life settles in. When he finds himself thinking of you in quiet moments, wondering why you aren’t around as much anymore, why it feels like something is missing.

You relocate. A different base. A different team.

You relocate to spare yourself.

—

Years Later

The news reaches him too late.

Simon is sitting in the common hall, watching the rain streak down the window, when his phone buzzes. He answers out of habit, not expecting much.

Soap's voice is quiet. Too quiet.

He barely hears the words over the rushing in his ears.

A mission gone wrong. Too much blood lost before help arrived. You were alone, left behind by your new team.

Gone.

The funeral is small. Simple. He doesn’t speak. Just stands at the back, hands clenched into fists, watching as they lower the casket into the ground.

Soap stands beside him, but no one else does. Not her. Not his wife. She hadn’t asked where he was going, and he hadn’t told her.

Because how could he explain it? How could he explain the way his ribs felt like they were caving in, the way his lungs burned with every breath? How could he explain that this loss felt different than any other?

He doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t say goodbye.

He just stands there, watching as they cover you with dirt, as the last piece of you disappears from his sight.

And for the first time, he wonders if maybe—just maybe—he loved you all along.

But now, he’ll never get the chance to tell you.

And that is the worst part of all.

—

Months Later

It happens on a quiet night.

Simon is going through old boxes in the closet, looking for something long forgotten. His wife is asleep in the next room, unaware.

He’s sifting through old mission reports, books, scraps of things that don’t matter—until he finds it.

A letter.

His name is scrawled across the front in your handwriting, the ink slightly smudged, like you hesitated before writing it.

He shouldn’t open it. He knows that.

But he does anyway.

His hands shake as he unfolds the paper. The words blur in front of his eyes, but he forces himself to focus.

Sim,

I don’t know if I’ll ever send this. Maybe it’s just for me. But if you’re reading it, then I guess I wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.

I loved you. I loved you in all the ways a person could love someone. And I never told you because I knew—God, I knew you didn’t feel the same. And that’s okay. I never expected you to.

I just wanted you to know.

I hope she makes you happy. I hope she gives you the kind of love I always wished I could.

And I hope, someday, I stop wishing things had been different.

—Y/N

The paper crumples in his grip.

His chest is too tight, his throat burning as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Because fuck.

He should have known.

Should have seen it.

But it’s too late.

It’s too late, and you’re gone, and all he has left is the ghost of what could have been.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.

[inseobts]

Threaded

trafalgar law x strawhat!reader

all you two do is bickering but maybe that just hide something else

a/n: this is one of the first I’ve written so I’m sorry if it’s not that good

tags: enemies to lovers?

word count: 1.6k

masterlist // ko-fi

The first time you met Trafalgar Law, you wanted to punch him.

You weren’t sure if it was the smug look on his face, the way he stood just a little too tall and confident, or how easily he’d dismissed you during a skirmish between the Heart Pirates and the Strawhats.

“Stay out of my way, Y/N-ya” he’d said coolly, not even sparing you a second glance as he used his Room ability to whisk his crew to safety.

Ever since then, your encounters with him had been a mix of competition and thinly veiled insults. You’d fought alongside and against him during chaotic battles, always at odds but somehow never truly harming each other.

And, annoyingly, the others loved to tease you about it.

“I think Law likes you” Nami said one night on the Sunny, smirking as you glared at her.

“Yeah, right” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “He’s just arrogant and annoying.”

“And yet, every time he shows up, you look very interested” Zoro teased, earning a laugh from the crew.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring their laughter as you stared out at the sea. The truth was, Law was interesting. Infuriating, yes, but undeniably clever and powerful. And every time he faced you in battle, there was a flicker of respect in his eyes that made your heart skip—though you’d die before admitting it.

The next time you crossed paths, it was during an ambush on a Marine base. Both the Strawhats and the Heart Pirates had the same idea: raid the place for supplies and information.

“Of course you’re here” you muttered as Law appeared beside you in the chaos, his Room ability slicing through Marine reinforcements.

“Likewise” he replied, his tone flat.

You rolled your eyes, summoning your energy to blast a group of Marines into the wall.

“Try not to slow me down, Surgeon” you taunted.

Law smirked faintly, his sword flashing as he neutralized another group. “I should say the same to you.”

The two of you moved in sync, your powers complementing his precision as you cleared the room. By the time the dust settled, you were both panting, but victorious.

“You’re not as bad as I thought” you admitted grudgingly, glancing at him.

“Likewise” he said, his tone softer than before.

For a moment, the tension between you shifted into something else—something quieter, almost… tender. But before either of you could speak, a loud crash from outside reminded you that the crews were still fighting.

“Back to work” you said, brushing past him.

After the raid, you didn’t expect to see Law again so soon. But a week later, the Heart Pirates docked near the Sunny, ostensibly to exchange information about the Marines.

“Sure, information” Sanji said annoyed as you watched Law step aboard. “More like an excuse to see Y/N.”

“Shut up” you hissed, your cheeks heating as you crossed your arms.

Law ignored the whispers and teasing from both crews, his gaze sharp as he walked toward you.

“Y/N-ya. Where’s your captain?” he said simply.

“He’s resting” you answer with a cold tone, trying not to question why he asked you out of everyone.

He nods, holding out a piece of parchment.

You raised an eyebrow, taking it. “What’s this?”

“Details about a Marine operation near here,” he replied. “I thought you’d want to know.”

“Why are you helping us?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He shrugged. “Your interference benefits me. Simple as that.”

But the faint smile tugging at his lips told a different story, and you couldn’t help but smirk in return.

“You’re lucky I don’t blast you off this ship” you teased, summoning a flicker of energy in your hand.

“And you’re lucky I don’t cut you in half” he replied, though there was no malice in his tone.

The crews watched the exchange with barely concealed glee, their whispers growing louder.

“They’re so into each other” Nami said, smirking at Robin.

“Think they know?” she asked.

“Not a chance” Nami replied, laughing softly.

Over the next few weeks, your encounters with Law became more frequent. You worked together to take down Marine operations, often bickering but always falling into a rhythm that felt almost natural.

And slowly, the tension between you began to shift.

It was during a quiet night on the Sunny, after a mission, that you finally confronted the elephant in the room.

“Why do you keep showing up?” you asked, finding him standing alone at the edge of the deck.

He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Maybe I enjoy the challenge.”

“Of working with me or putting up with me?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Both,” he admitted, a faint smirk on his lips.

You blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. “Wait, are you—”

“Don’t overthink it, Y/N-ya” he said, finally turning to face you. “But for what it’s worth… I don’t hate having you around.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fought to keep your expression neutral “Well, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t get used to it” he said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

The crews, who had been secretly watching from below deck, erupted into cheers and whistles, ruining the moment.

“JUST KISS ALREADY!” Luffy shouted, earning groans and laughter from everyone else.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “They’re never going to let us live this down, are they?”

“No” Law said, his smirk widening.

And as the chaos around you grew, you couldn’t help but laugh, realizing that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind being stuck with him.

It happened during one of those rare, quiet nights when the sea was calm, and the crews were resting after yet another skirmish with the Marines. The Heart Pirates and the Strawhats had docked together on a small, remote island to regroup. The two crews were enjoying a bonfire, their laughter echoing through the night, but you found yourself wandering away from the group, your thoughts racing.

As much as you hated to admit it, Law had been on your mind far too often lately. His sharp wit, his calm demeanor, the way his gaze lingered on you during battles—it was maddening.

You sighed, sitting on a rock overlooking the ocean, when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Y/N-ya” Law’s voice called softly.

You didn’t turn around, but the corner of your lips twitched. “Stalking me now, Surgeon?”

“I could say the same about you, wandering off to brood” he replied, stepping beside you.

“Brooding is your thing” you shot back, finally glancing up at him.

He smirked faintly but said nothing, his silver eyes scanning the horizon. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the sound of the waves filling the air.

“You’ve been quiet tonight” he said finally, breaking the silence.

“Just thinking,” you admitted, resting your chin on your knees. “About��� everything.”

Law raised an eyebrow. “Everything?”

You hesitated, debating whether to speak your mind. But something about the way he was looking at you—calm, patient, as if he already knew what you were going to say—made you want to be honest.

“About you” you said softly, meeting his gaze.

Law’s eyes widened slightly, the smallest crack in his usual composure. “What about me?”

“You’re infuriating,” you began, standing up and pacing in front of him. “You’re always so calm, so smug, like you know everything. And you drive me crazy because you do know everything half the time. And yet… you’re the one person I can’t stop thinking about.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and you froze, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

Law was quiet for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he stood, stepping closer to you.

“You drive me crazy too, Y/N-ya,” he said, his voice low. “Your recklessness, your power… the way you always throw yourself into danger without thinking.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “That sounds more like an insult.”

“It’s not,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Because for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could reply, a loud crash sounded behind you.

“DAMN IT!”

You whipped around to see the Luffy fall from a nearby tree, covered in leaves, turning to the others who were poorly hidden.

“What the hell?!” you shouted, your face burning.

“We weren’t spying!” Usopp says as the rest of both crews scrambled to hide behind trees and rocks.

“Yeah, totally not spying!” Luffy shouted, laughing loudly.

“Let’s just leave them alone!” Nami groaned, smacking Luffy on the head as the crews retreated, their laughter fading into the distance.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I’m going to kill them.”

Law chuckled softly, his amusement breaking the tension. “They’re persistent, I’ll give them that.”

When you looked up at him, his usual calm had returned, but his silver eyes held a warmth you’d never seen before.

“So… about what you said” you began awkwardly, your cheeks burning.

Law took a step closer, his hand brushing against yours. “If you’re done yelling at the audience…”

You laughed nervously, but the sound faded as he leaned in, his expression serious.

“Can I?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his lips brushed yours. The kiss was soft, slow, and far gentler than you’d expected from someone like him.

When you pulled away, your power energy flickered around you, uncontrollable as your emotions surged.

“Sorry” you muttered, trying to rein it in.

Law smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It suits you.”

From the distance, you heard muffled cheers and groans, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“They’re never going to shut up about this” you said, shaking your head.

“Let them talk” Law replied, his voice calm but firm “I don’t care.”

And for the first time, neither did you.

[azullumi]

"to your never, to my nothings" ; phainon

premise— he had never known the extent of his affection, of his adoration, until he had looked for you everywhere he went, searching for a semblance of you in a crowd. an unfortunate thing, however, as everyone knows that he likes you, except you.  content tags & warnings — pairing: phainon x gn!reader | one-sided pining (somehow), fluff, v3.0 trailblaze mission mentioned and used, lovesick phainon i advocate, reader is a normal citizen, phainon worries about reader, not proofread | wc: 1.4k | tagging: @felibrary

"jellyfish" — i hit my shin against the edge of the table while i was writing this and i nearly died

Not a single person is unaware of the affections a certain Chrysos Heir holds towards you.

The three children who bear different smiles were the first to notice—subtle, fleeting glimpses that betrayed PHAINON's carefully composed facade. They see the gleam in his eyes, talking—or gossiping—it among themselves even as he stands right there, lips pressed into a thin line, unable to protest without confirming their suspicions. The heat creeping up his neck is answer enough.

He can’t say anything against it, but only asking them to not tell anyone about it, albeit they tease him further. However, nothing can escape the golden threads of a certain demigod as the man found himself conversing in a topic about the weight of his feelings and the weight of his responsibility.

Then guess what happens after? Yes, news travels fast—like wildfire carried by the idle breeze—reaching Mydei because how come he also has something to say?

And of course; “Lord Phainon, your ears are red.” The lady, adorned with flowers, would say as they walked away from your store after the man himself insisted that he had to check on something, on you. Phainon brushes it off, muttering something about the weather being unusually warm. Albeit his deflection is as transparent as glass and the only thing helping him is the fact that he's a step ahead and Castorice couldn’t see the red that dusts his cheek.

He knows he adores you, and perhaps it is a terrible thing that he loves you more than he loves himself, because your name itself reverberates through the hollow chambers of a heart that beats only for you, his thoughts composing a fine melody that yearns for you to feel the same. And when the Titan of Strife had come to strike the city, the tremble of his fingers and the falter of his composure disturbed the calm waters of his gaze. 

“The city is under attack!”

The sound of rubble crashing down, a cloud of dust and thick smoke consuming the place, chaos and screams everywhere filling all of his senses. His eyes flick over from one place to another, his feet never stopping as he runs, brandishing his blade against titankins who stand in his way. His gaze searched for you amidst the fire and debris but you were nowhere to be found; he had asked citizens for any sights of you and got nothing at the same.

Fear seeps into his skin, violently clawing and numbing him, an icy grip tightening around his chest. But before he could let the feeling consume him, a fragile, desperate voice pierces through the haze of destruction.

“Phainon!” His head whips around so quickly you fear it could have snapped in half. A blur of smoke and shattered concrete, and then, you’re there. Relief washed over him like a violent wave and he nearly dropped his claymore at once; the heavy weight that dragged his footsteps against pavement became light, his legs moving before his mind could catch up, and before you could even comprehend it, you’re pulled in a tight embrace.

“You’re alright.” He says, low and breathless, his voice trembling as words stumble out, scratched with exhaustion and raw relief. You feel him relax as you pat his back, comforting him as the warmth of his own spill into yours. 

Phainon releases you moments after, his hands lingering as he checks up on you for any wounds you might have. His expression doesn’t relent and you have to reassure him that you’re fine—but he doesn’t believe you, not until he’s certain with his own eyes. However, his fingers brush against a spot on your arm, and before you can stifle it, a wince slips past your lips.

Thus, he sees it—a gash that begins from your forearm, extending to near your elbow, and his face tightens with a grimace. You jerk your arm away instinctively, turning from him to hide the wound, and the gesture cuts deeper than you intend. His lips part, trembling slightly, trying to find the words to say.

His hand tries to reach for you but it simply hangs in the air, hesitation lingering in his bones, and it falls away to his side.

“Phainon,” You say firmly, your gaze stilling on him, laced with conviction as if nothing he will say will move you. “ I’m okay, but there are others who are not.”

“But—”

“You must go.”

He is reminded of his responsibility once more, of the constant voice of his duty whispering against his ear, of the weight of the prophecy and his title—it draws a blatant line between you and him, making him fearful to cross it.

A bitter smile crosses your lips when you see his reluctance, your voice taking on a gentler tone when you speak: “It’s alright, I’ll be fine, so don’t worry about me.” Your words don't scour the tension on his shoulders but it managed to carve away the sharp edges of his worry. Not entirely, but enough. He exhales a slow, weary sigh—a quiet surrender—and steps closer. 

Without a word, Phainon tears a strip of fabric from his cape, the sound of ripping cloth sharp against the quiet between you. The chaos, the sound of destruction around you seem to have faded into nothing as the world holds its breath for the two of you. 

His hands move with practiced care, fingers steady despite the storm lingering behind his eyes. He wraps the makeshift bandage around your wound, his touch feather-light, as if afraid you might shatter under the weight of it. His brows furrowed with concentration, but there’s a softness there too, woven into the way he avoids pressing too hard, the way his thumb brushes over your skin like an apology he can’t speak aloud. All the while, you watch him, listening as he tells you to look for the High Priest, Tribios, for safety.

You don’t say a word, instead, you just nod, because it’s easier than admitting the fear clawing at your ribs. His hand hovers near yours, as if he wants to say more, do more—but instead, he steps back, leaving a hollow space where his warmth had just been.

And he leaves.

But you, the recipient of these affections, however, is oblivious. The very person who mistakes every small gesture, every stolen glance, every carefully chosen word, as nothing more than the courtesy of a Chrysos Heir fulfilling his duty. You dismiss his offers of assistance with casual gratitude, his thoughtful gifts as tokens of mere friendship. You brush off the moments when his gaze lingers too long, the way his voice softens when it’s your name on his lips.

“You’re a great friend, Phainon.” You’ve told him once. Friend. Friend. The word itself echoes, clinging to the corners of his mind, a bittersweet anthem that both comforts and torments. He wears the title with a quiet resignation, even as his soul yearns for more.

But who was he to expect more? After all, he’s not pursuing you with grand gestures or bold confessions, the way love stories are. Yet, it’s the small things that betray him—the quiet, unnoticed acts that slip through the cracks of his careful restraint.  Like how he willingly takes the longest routes, detours woven into his path with the fragile hope of glimpsing you by chance. Like how his hands seem to find trinkets and gifts that remind him of you, delicate offerings tucked into his pockets until he can gather the courage to present them, just to see that fleeting smile bloom on your lips.

And it is never for the hope of you liking him back. But surely, surely you should notice.

Maybe it’s the way his voice falters slightly when he says your name, or how his gaze softens in a crowd when he finds you, like a lighthouse catching sight of home. Maybe it’s the silence between his words, filled with everything he wishes he could say but can't because his feelings are messy, irrational things—and yet, here he is, drowning in them.

Maybe it’s the way he stands a little too close, but not close enough, like the distance is both a comfort and a curse. 

But you don’t notice. And perhaps you never will.

Yet, even if his words remain unheard, even if his gestures remain unseen, even if you’ll never know, he finds solace in being able to adore you from afar. The fire consumes him quietly, burning bright and unseen, tucked beneath the layers of his being. And he carries it quietly, like a secret melody only he can hear—serene, enduring, and his alone, etched not in words, but in the spaces between.

© AZULLUMI. plagiarism of any form and type, stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is NOT permitted.

[marsdql]

Two brats made for eachother [N.RK]

It’s not a good day if you didn’t annoy your boyfriend ATLEAST once. | ni-ki × bratty!Reader | fluff, crack | wc: 0.5-7k? | @teddybeartaetae

You were lying on the couch, arms crossed and lips pursed as you glared at your phone. You’d been in a mood all afternoon, and Ni-ki, of course, had noticed.

He walked into the living room, seeing you pouting and clearly upset. “What’s going on with you?” he asked, sitting on the armrest of the couch, his tone light but filled with curiosity.

You didn’t answer right away, just tapping away on your phone and ignoring him.

“Come on, I know something’s up. You’re being all quiet and moody. Are you mad at me?” Ni-ki asked, poking your side playfully.

You flinched at the poke, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not mad, just… annoyed.”

“Annoyed? By what?” Ni-ki leaned closer, clearly intrigued. “I didn’t even do anything.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Of course you didn’t. You never do anything.”

He raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor shifting to a more serious tone. “Okay, now I know something’s going on. You’re upset, but it’s not about me, right?”

You shot him an exaggerated look of disbelief. “Yeah, right. You just don’t notice anything. I’ve been asking you all day to help me, and you just ignore me like I’m not even here.”

Ni-ki blinked, processing your words for a second. “Wait… you’re upset because I didn’t help you with stuff?”

You nodded, a small frown still on your face as you crossed your arms even tighter. “Exactly. I asked you to get me a snack like three times, and you just kept playing games.”

Ni-ki’s smile dropped as he realized what you were saying. “Oh. You’re mad because I didn’t do what you asked.”

“Yes!” you huffed, sitting up slightly, your expression turning even more bratty as you pouted. “You’re so oblivious, Ni-ki.”

He paused, trying to hold back his laughter as he realized what was going on. “Wait… is this all because I didn’t do exactly what you wanted me to do?”

“Duh,” you muttered, still sulking. “I’m not a servant, you know. I expect some attention, and today you’ve been ignoring me.”

Ni-ki couldn’t help it—he burst into laughter, his hand over his mouth as he tried to suppress the giggles. “Oh my god, you’re being so dramatic. You really are acting like a little brat.”

You immediately scowled, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at your lips despite your efforts to look upset. “I’m not a brat.”

He grinned, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms, looking at you with an amused, almost affectionate expression. “You totally are. You’re mad because I didn’t wait on you hand and foot, huh? You didn’t even give me a chance to notice what you needed.”

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t have to ask for help every five minutes!” You were trying to keep the tough facade up, but Ni-ki’s teasing smile was breaking through.

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Fine, fine. I get it. You’re a brat. But I’m not going to leave you hanging like this.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, still crossing your arms, looking at him suspiciously. “Oh? What are you going to do about it, huh?”

Ni-ki leaned in closer, his tone shifting to something more soft and sincere. “You really want me to spoil you, huh? You want me to give you everything you ask for without complaining?”

Your face softened just a little, but you didn’t answer him, still trying to hold onto your act.

He continued, his voice calm and warm now. “Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll get you your snack, I’ll help you with anything you need, and I won’t complain. I’ll spoil you today… but only because you’re so cute when you’re being a brat.”

Your heart fluttered a little at his words, and the bratty edge of your mood started to fade away. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

Ni-ki smiled sweetly, his eyes softening as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’m serious. I know you like when I take care of you, and I’m okay with it. But next time, just ask me without acting all grumpy. Deal?”

You hesitated, then slowly nodded, the tension in your shoulders melting away as you realized how sweet he was being. “Fine, deal… But you better actually spoil me.”

Ni-ki’s grin widened, his usual mischievous energy returning. “I’ll make it happen. You’re getting the royal treatment today. Starting with that snack.”

“Good,” you said, finally giving in and leaning back against him, feeling a lot more at ease. “I’m glad you finally figured it out.”

Ni-ki chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “I’ll do anything for you, even if it means putting up with your bratty side.”

You smirked and rested your head on his shoulder. “You’re lucky you love me.”

“I know,” he said with a playful sigh, “I must be a little bit of a brat myself to put up with it.”

[spiritedstars]

Spirit Meets the Bones XXXVI

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: physical abuse/triggering language. Author’s Note:  Thank you for reading <3

thank you @riorsonxaden for always being my beta <3

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @vanserrass / @positivewitch / @animezinglife / @zenkindoflove / @rosewood-cafe / @clockwork-ashes / @carnythian / @secret-third-thing / @runningwiththeoceans / @that-golden-lyre / @thedarkinmansfield / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @mali22 / @readthelastpaage / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @feysandfeels / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @gracie-rosee / @mage-neve / @illyrianvalkyrie / @saint-stella / @carolynmezzosoprano / @rainbowsnowflake / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @lalaluch /

Find it all here.

Iris tried to focus on her steps as she walked away from the one person who mattered more than anyone else. Tried to keep breathing, knowing anything could happen to him. 

She could sense Eris’s every emotion trickling through the bond as she stepped out of the ballroom and walked quickly down the hall. His panic became hers and as she ran a finger against her necklace in comfort, Iris knew better than to look back. If she did, she wouldn’t resist running back to him and he needed her away for his own sanity. 

With every step she moved away from him, her mess of a heart thumped how wrong it felt. She loved him. She loved him and should’ve told him anyway. She should’ve stayed —

Iris also realized she should’ve been paying attention when she collided with the one person she wanted to avoid.

“Iris.” 

She straightened at the voice of the High Lord and a strong sense of foreboding coiled in her stomach as she took a step back. 

Iris gave him a polite bow of her head. “High Lord.”

Beron tilted his head, giving her a sly leer that instantly put her on edge. “You usually say it differently, no?”

She worked not to let her expression shift from a pleasant smile and swallowed, bowing her head again, “How can I help you, my High Lord?”

“Better,” he said and took a closer step to her, his eyes tracing her body in a way he hadn’t openly done so before. He watched her with an almost morbid curiosity and it made Iris tense further. “Have you been enjoying yourself this evening?”

Iris’s jaw clenched but she kept her gaze even. “Yes, of course. It’s been a splendid night,” she answered. “Where is –”

“You’re doing better than I expected. I admit…I underestimated your capabilities.” Beron continued, ignoring her response as his gaze burned into her skin. “I am pleased to see that you can be taught whatever is necessary.” 

She couldn’t stop the slow blink at his words and the tone he said them, alarm bells ringing in her ears. Silence stretched between them and Iris knew by the way the corner of his mouth lifted, Beron could hear the rapid beating of her heart. His gaze shifted to her chest as if he could see right through her and suddenly, her mind took her back to the fight she had with Eris many moons ago about his father – about the High Lord’s particular interest in females. Eris didn’t believe his father would cross that one line to force himself on the females he wanted but…with the way the High Lord was looking at her now, Iris wasn’t as confident. Hating the way his gaze made her feel so dirty, she casually lifted a hand to rest it over the slight dip in the front of her dress, cold dread slinking down her spine. 

“I’m…relieved to know it was to your standard,” she said carefully. “But where is –”

The High Lord took another step towards her and Iris couldn’t stop her eyes from widening as he infringed on her personal space. She noticed too late how quiet the hallway was – how alone they were. How Oren, who was meant to be waiting for her, was nowhere in sight. “Where are you off to, without your husband?”

Cautiously, Iris backed another step with a tight smile. “I wanted to refresh before we continued with the dancing,” she said. “Where’s Mother?”

Beron’s face darkened and his demand was nearly a growl, “Stop calling her that. Do not concern yourself with her.” 

She blinked, her brows furrowing slightly and her free hand tightened in the folds of her dress. “As you wish…may I be on my way now?”

Instead of answering, the High Lord took another step closer, backing Iris against the wall and her eyes quickly darted to the empty hall they stood in again. Why was it so empty? And so quiet? Where the hell were all the people? 

“My lord –”

“My eldest son had always been my favorite of the children I sired. The most reliable. The one who followed orders.” he began. “Yet, since you appeared, he has challenged me more and more as the days go on. He’s become quite a nuisance.” Beron’s mouth curled in distaste as he watched her. “Every single one of them has become a nuisance but Eris…he has disappointed me the most. And I do believe it is all because of you.” 

Iris flushed and beneath the prickling anxiety at being cornered like this, anger pulsed under her skin. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, High Lord.” 

Beron snorted. “Do not pretend to misunderstand what I mean, Iris.”

They said nothing for a moment and Iris knew she had to tread carefully. Eris had suspected his father might be aware of something but she didn’t want to be the one to jeopardize anything else. 

“I think you are giving me too much credit, my lord.” she finally said. “Eris is a male of his own mind and has always…admired you. Strived to please you.” 

His brow ticked up at her words and Iris had to swallow as he leaned in closer to her. “And you, Iris? Do you strive to please me?”

Revulsion clogged her throat at the quiet, sinister tone he used and his choice of words. Iris knew he always toed this line with her, doing anything to piss Eris off. But this time…it felt different, more dangerous. 

This time, Iris wasn’t sure the High Lord wouldn’t act.

“I –”

“You and I haven’t gotten to know each other very well. I think that will be changing soon,” he said and Iris felt her stomach drop as he watched her with cruel amusement. “My son will not like it but I’ve let him slide without a more lasting punishment and he seems to be pushing his limit today. You will fit exactly what I have in mind for him.” 

Her face flushed deeply and Iris could do nothing to stop the disgust in her expression, that rage simmering beneath her skin. Did she dare pull out her dagger? Would she be fast enough? “W-what are you —”

Beron chuckled and Iris flinched back when he raised a hand to grip her face tightly. “In all honesty, you weren’t of any interest to me before,” he said, his voice as soft as a lover and Iris tried not to gag at how close his mouth was to hers. “My son and I had an understanding about you but the way he keeps you from me and hides you away…piqued my interest. I think it’ll be a very fitting punishment indeed for him to watch as I teach you all the things that do please me. He can watch you break until it shatters him.” That cruel amusement returned as he added, “And then I will slit his throat.”

The world slid out from beneath her feet and rage like none other scorched her skin. “How dare you –”

His grip tightened painfully on her chin and she hated the smile he gave her at the whimper that slipped from her lips. “You are aware your father offered you to me first, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone sharpening. “Your circumstances and level of comfort are rapidly changing and given how the rest of this evening will unfold, I suggest you watch your tone. Your husband will no longer be your shield.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” she breathed and a twisted smile curled on the High Lord’s face. 

“Do you think I’m unaware that my sons are trying to stage a coup? That my wife is a part of it?” he said, his voice low and Iris felt her lungs collapse. “They planned and planned and it will all collapse on their heads.”

Iris worked her throat, panic slowly unfurling in her chest as she thought about her next steps. This couldn’t be happening. “I don’t think –”

She yelped as the High Lord gripped her by the throat and slammed her body into the wall. “Do not even think to lie to me.” he hissed. “I know they will try to humiliate me tonight but I’ll be damned if I let them after everything I’ve done to get here.” His hold tightened and Iris wheezed as her nails dug into his hand. “You will get your share of the punishment as well but I promised your father he would get his turn first.”

Her father. Of course, that fucker was in on it. He must’ve come to them earlier on purpose, to rile her and Eris before disappearing. 

What if she pulled her dagger out now? Would she be able to gut him and run to find Eris? Her free hand twitched in the folds of her dress for the hidden pocket but the High Lord grabbed her wrist and pinned her arm to the wall, pressing his body against her.

Iris couldn’t breathe and she wondered if Eris could sense her panic – her fear. It was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t want Eris anywhere near his father right now and she tried to move but all it did was push her body against Beron’s even further. He smiled at her in a way that said he liked it too much. 

“You must have lost your mind. Let go of me.” she hissed, clawing at his hands but Beron only smirked, tightening his grip even further. 

“Do not give me orders, girl. Once I’m finished cleaning out the traitors, you will have the honor of being the first trained in the new ways,” he promised darkly. “I certainly don’t need four sons and can always find a new wife.” Much to her dismay, Beron leaned close to her ear and breathed, “I do have plans to keep you in the family, Iris. You and I can play then whichever of my sons survives…I’ll let him play with you too.” She froze, her breath stuttering as the High Lord pulled back and Iris looked at him with wide eyes, overcome with horror. “And do not worry, I’ll kill Eris after he has the privilege of watching his mate be used.”

Iris’s head emptied and she felt her body go slack against him. He knew. The bastard knew about their bond and Eris had been right – his father was going to make everything so much worse. 

She stared at him in repulsion and disbelief and so much anger boiled in her blood that she began to shake. How long would males like her father and Beron think to use her like bait? To keep finding ways to hurt her husband, the only male she’d ever loved? “You are a deranged bastard.” she seethed. “How dare you say these kinds of things? How dare you spit on something so sacred and try to twist it?”

Beron’s smile was one of her worst nightmares. “Soon enough, I will spit wherever I’d like.” he nearly purred and Iris fought back the urge to gag. “This isn’t the first time I’ve ruined someone’s mate. I will certainly enjoy ruining you as well.”

“You’re a fucken pig. Let - me - go.” Iris hissed and thrashed in his arms. “Eris will –” But Beron’s face darkened at the mention of his son, squeezing her throat tighter. 

And fight as she might, he was a High Lord — a vile, vicious High Lord that abused his powers in the worst ways and he would not let Iris break out of his grasp unless he allowed it.

He observed her for a moment, his mouth curling. “I do like your fighting spirit. We’ll see how long it’ll last when I’m done with you.” he mused then shoved her to the side hard enough, Iris stumbled and fell as she finally took a deep breath. “I plan to see how fast you can run, little gazelle.”

Iris blinked in shock, trying to breathe as she watched him casually making his way back to the ballroom – as if he hadn’t just stated his despicable plans to ruin everyone’s lives. Eris and his brothers had plans in place but the High Lord seemed to be ten steps ahead. How did he know? Who had betrayed them?

Iris rubbed her raw neck, noticing too late that her necklace had broken, and pulled her hand back, cradling it sadly. She tried not to take it as a bad omen as she shakily stood, torn in her next decision.

She would not think about the High Lord’s threats, shuddering through the ghost of his touch and gazing around the empty hall again. It was empty for a reason and she struggled to understand why Beron had let her go.

Did she run back and warn Eris? Would it be walking right into Beron’s trap and making it all worse?

Iris steeled herself, tucking the necklace into the pocket of her dress with shaky hands and finally pulling out her dagger. She would go back to Eris but not without some kind of support – Iris would be a help and not a hindrance. She would find Oren and hopefully, her mother-in-law.  As upset as her husband might be that Iris was still here, she’d be damned if she left him now.

Tightening her grip on her dagger, Iris carefully continued down the hall, wary of every sound she made. The emptiness of it was deliberate and as she took a few more steps, she felt her healer magic almost tugging her along. Iris did all she could not to run – not to draw attention to herself because the lack of people in this hall was not a good thing. She walked as casually as she could until Iris turned the hall and her body lurched as she came to a stop, her heart leaping into her throat.

“And where do you think you’re running off to, daughter?” 

Iris swallowed and her grip tightened even further on her dagger, observing as her father stood in the hall, alone. As if he’d been waiting for her. “What are you doing here?” she asked as calmly as she could. 

His smile made every inch of her tense. Running into the High Lord and then finding the male she hated most waiting for her was not a coincidence. 

In trying to avoid Beron’s trap of going back to Eris, Iris had walked right into another and it suddenly made sense why the High Lord had let her walk away. 

“I’m here to escort you to your next stop.” her father said with that awful smile and Iris steeled herself. 

“My next stop is to my husband.”

“Why, that’s exactly where I want to take you as well.” Aron said and took a step towards her. Iris took a step back. 

“I will not go anywhere with you. Move aside and let me pass.” she demanded and he raised a brow.

“Given your little stunt in the ballroom and standing here without your husband, I wouldn’t think you’d be brave enough to keep up with that attitude.” 

She felt anger flare in her bones and couldn’t help scoffing at her father. “When we shooed you away like the dog you are?” she mocked and his expression flattened. “I’m not sure why you get offended. You are the High Lord’s lapdog through and through, aren’t you? Willing to do anything and everything he requests of you?”

“Shut your mouth, you ungrateful bitch.” Aron seethed and Iris couldn’t help the small sense of triumph at riling him up, even as they stepped around each other, knowing his hands could harm her. “The High Lord and I have a mutually beneficial relationship that you and your stupid husband threaten to ruin.” 

“Ah, yes. The relationship with you on your knees for the High Lord doing all his dirty work and he allows you to reign free?” she dared to say. 

Aron's eyes narrowed and seethed, “And what do you dare mean by that?" 

And Iris knew should've stayed quiet. She should’ve listened to the part of her screaming to get away from him as soon and as fast as she could – the survival instinct that had stayed with her over the years of dealing with his fists. 

The other part of her, the one now thumping through her veins, was raging at her to keep going. She was a princess of this court. The mate and wife of the next High Lord come hell or high water and her husband was the reason she could stand her ground and know she was worth the fight. She had a right to fight for herself and not let this sorry excuse of a father keep diminishing her like this. So Iris channeled every ounce of arrogance she could muster and smirked, speaking in a tone of such uninterested boredom that she was slightly disappointed Eris wasn’t here to witness it, “Eris and I have often wondered if you get better rewards the better you suck his father's cock. I doubt we’re the only ones.” 

“How dare you!” 

Her father didn’t give her another chance to say anything else and Iris knew she was playing with fire taunting him but she’d spent her whole life dealing with him and his anger. She was sick of him and his jabs and his entire existence. She would fight fire with fire and consequences be damned. 

Aron lunged at his daughter and Iris barely dodged his grip, slicing her dagger up as she went. 

“You dare try to hurt me?” he seethed as he moved against her. 

“I will hurt anyone who tries to hurt me and you’ve been at the top of my list for years, you piece of shit.” She snapped and took a step back, her eyes darting around the hall for anything that may help her. Anything to stop him as he followed her, trying to corner her while she dodged him.

The hall was dimly lit, and that eerie silence of being alone with him had the shadows playing tricks on her senses as Iris continued to evade her father's advances. The bastard seemed to know her every move and each time she moved one way, he followed her with a snarl. She knew she couldn't quite match his physical strength; Iris had been on the receiving end of his blows for years and that small fear would always linger. But she had to remind herself that she was stronger now. Even if she couldn’t win, she sure as fuck could injure and this fueled her determination.

As Aron lunged once more, his sword now in hand, Iris quickly sidestepped him, her dagger slashing through the air and the metallic clash echoed in the hall as her blade met his. The sound vibrated through the room as father and daughter glared at each other.

“You dance this little number with me and yet, you couldn’t overpower me if you tried, could you?” Aron cooed mockingly and Iris’s jaw clenched as she shoved away from him and a gleam of silver caught her eyes from a nearby table. Backing away slowly, letting her father assume she was retreating, Iris darted towards it, quickly grabbing one of the lofty candlestick holders adorning the hall. The cold metal of the sturdy base felt reassuring in her hand as she held it, facing her father.

“This was always your problem, Aron.” she mocked and her father’s eyes flashed. “You always underestimated me.” 

Aron's face twisted with rage, and as he charged at her again, Iris was waiting. She feigned with her dagger and instead swung the candlestick holder with all her might, aiming for his head with a cry of rage, slamming into him as hard as she could. The impact sent him stumbling and she took advantage of his surprise to slam it into him again and watched with gruesome pleasure as her father crumbled to the floor. 

The weapon she’d brandished slipped to the floor with a loud clang and Iris allowed herself a moment of deep breaths, her hands shaking. She had knocked him out. She’d won. This round at least. 

The joy was brief as Iris remembered what she was originally supposed to be looking for and quickly hid her dagger once more. She glanced down at her father with distaste, grabbing his discarded sword and throat bobbing, Iris focused back on finding her family. She had no doubt her father would be coming after her with a vengeance once he awoke. 

Carefully glancing around the corner once more, ensuring she was alone and her father didn’t have anyone else waiting for her, she sprinted towards the guest wing that was rarely used, the only space she could think Beron had walked from. The buzz of her healing magic returned, almost urging her on and Iris focused on swallowing her panic, needing to keep a leveled head. 

They had a plan. She would find Oren then find Eris and they would be fine.

Lady Enya had to be fine. She had to be okay. She was finally leaving. Lucien was waiting – Her mate was waiting. 

And Eris…she would be by his side however the rest of this night goes. 

She skidded to a stop in front of the room, trying to control her heavy breathing as she glanced around the wing to find it deserted, the door to the main room closed. Her magic tingled at her fingertips and Iris knew this was the right place. Quickly, she knocked. “Lady Enya?”

A heartbeat passed and she knocked again, her tone sharpening. “Lady Enya?”

Nothing.

She heard nothing. 

Did that mean – had Beron –

Her grip tightened on her blade but Iris made herself take another deep breath and as she raised her hand once more to knock, she heard a pitiful groan. 

One of pain. 

Iris yanked at the door handle and groaned to find it locked. With a grunt, she threw herself against the door with everything she had once, twice, and by the third shove, her shoulders were aching and her hair had started to become disheveled, there was a small crack in the door. Mustering whatever was left of her energy, she threw herself against the door a final time and it finally burst open. Panting, her gaze swept the room until it fell on a body – three bodies and she nearly keeled over – Lady Enya, Emil, and Oren were bleeding out before her. 

Iris’s hands began to shake as she took note of each person and as if in a trance, slowly let the sword slip from her hands. Lady Enya lay face first on the floor, Emil on the ground with a chair toppled over him, and Oren slumped against the wall. 

Eris had told her what his father was capable of if provoked but it didn’t stop her from trembling at the sight of the broken furniture and speckles of scattered blood. 

“Oh gods.”

Quickly closing the door behind her, Iris rushed over and turned her mother-in-law, blanching at the paleness of her face. Her cheeks were marred with bruises, a cut to her lip and Iris made herself take a breath then another at the sight of the Lady of Autumn’s golden dress now stained with blood. 

The chaos had begun and the High Lord certainly knew where to hit.  

“Mother? Mother, can you hear me?” she called, trying to keep the frantic panic she felt at bay as her hand hovered over Lady Enya’s body, assessing her as carefully as she could. The High Lord seemed to have used his fists more deliberately with his wife, as if wanting to make sure his touch would haunt her forever and Iris bit her lip hard, sensing the amount of bruises across her mother-in-law’s body. A line of blood sat across her throat as if the High Lord had debated whether to slit it or not and Iris’s hands moved shakily, letting her healing magic find the hurt. 

Why hadn’t her body started healing itself yet? What had the High Lord done? 

“Please answer me. Please don’t be  –”

“Iris.” 

Her head snapped to the corner to where Emil struggled and her brother-in-law groaned lowly as he attempted to move. “Emil!” she said and froze for a heartbeat as her gaze flickered between the three bodies. If Lady Enya wasn’t healing, did that mean Emil and Oren hadn’t either? Grimacing, she focused back on her mother-in-law. “What the hell happened? Are you able to get up?”

“My father. He knows.” Emil wheezed and Iris watched him shove the chair off him with a shaky hand. “The fucker knows. Trapped us in here.”

“W-why is there so much blood? ” she asked, carefully shifting Lady Enya’s head to continue checking for injuries. “Why isn’t your mother’s body healing itself? Can you heal yours?” 

“No. F-faebane in the drinks he forced on us,” he said with a wince. “My magic is snuffed out.” 

“Try not to move, please!” Iris called out and glanced down at Lady Enya with a small sense of relief at the little bit of color returning in her cheeks. “Let me help you first. If you’re already hurt, movement will make it worse.”

With a final assessing hand over Lady Enya, Iris quickly shifted over to Emil, assisting him in sitting up and her brother-in-law hissed when she exposed the nasty wound to his gut. His face was no better than his mother’s and Iris winced at the way his arm was twisted. “The fucker saw me following him and Mother. I tried to make it seem like I wanted to walk her back to the dance but when Oren showed up, he must’ve known something was happening and called us in here,” he explained quickly, panting slightly as Iris carefully touched him. “He wanted to toast the evening and before we could stop him, he forced the drinks on us.” 

“What kind of weapon did he use?” Iris asked, moving her hands to scan Emil for further injuries and healing as she went along. “He must’ve –”

“His fists. His magic.” Emil said and moaned painfully as Iris set his arm back in place and healed the wound to his abdomen. “Then his sword. Oren got the brunt of it trying to protect my mother. H-help him, please –”

“I will, I will.” she managed and blew out a breath, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. “Eris – he’s – your father is aware of everything.” Iris helped him shift against the wall, handing him his discarded daggers. “He cornered me in the hallway and I think he has something up his sleeve. It’s going to get ugly.” 

“It absolutely will get ugly. He thinks he has one up on us because he knows we’re planning to overthrow him.” Emil seethed, grunting as he adjusted himself, carefully strapping his two daggers to his sides. “But he doesn’t know to what extent.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” she said quietly and Emil put a hand over hers, forcing her to pause but she gave him a tight smile and patted his hand. “I think he knows more than you think he does.” 

“What makes you say that?” Emil asked, his eyes narrowing and Iris shrugged helplessly. 

“He threatened me with all his ideas for the future out there. Whatever it is, you all must figure out a way around it.” Iris said then backed away from him; she had healed him as best as she could. Swallowing, she met his gaze, her eyes pleading. “Please don’t let Eris deal with it alone, Emil. I know your magic hasn’t returned yet but –”

“You’d be a fool to only rely on your magic in this court.” he rasped and nodded. “I’ll be fine. We’ll get back to him.”

Iris nodded and blinked back the well of tears that surfaced. There was no time for this – no time to dwell on things she couldn’t control. If they couldn’t heal themselves, Iris would gladly do it for them, helping in the only way she knew how. She quickly made her way to Oren and Iris couldn’t help but hiss as she ran her hands over him to find multiple fractures and wounds. 

Eris’s friend and one of his most loyal soldiers was bloodied and bruised, left for dead trying to protect their family. Anger boiled beneath her skin at the injustice of it all. 

The High Lord had been pissed. 

Iris let her magic work, panting slightly at the exertion of so much of her magic all at once. She looked over as Emil slowly began to stand, his hands trembling slightly. “You lost blood, you need to let yourself rest a little longer,” Iris ordered.

“There’s no fucken time for that,” Emil said and breathed deeply, bracing a hand against the wall. “Time will cost us and he’s too prepared. I need to find out how. I need –”

The Lady of Autumn made a small noise and both Iris and Emil glanced over to find her shifting slightly. “Lady Enya?”

Without a word, Emil approached his mother and Iris bit her lip, watching him stumble slightly as he walked. Even with her help, the faebane slowed their healing and they needed more time.

“Emil.” his mother breathed, reaching out a trembling hand as her son assisted her to sit up. “What happened? Where –” Lady Enya’s gaze found Iris, widening, and Iris was grateful to see the bruises on her face had somewhat lessened. “Iris! What are you doing here?”

“I came to find Oren and ended up finding you all together,” she explained, focusing back on Oren’s wounds. “Are you feeling alright? I’m healing everyone as best as possible but I’m a little nervous that –”

“I feel better, thank you.” Lady Enya reassured quickly as alarm crossed her expression and Iris’s brows furrowed, her gaze torn between Enya and Oren. The Lady of Autumn exchanged a look with Emil before her eyes returned to Iris. “You need to leave. Now.” 

Iris blinked, her hands flattering for a moment before she resumed healing. “What?” 

“Beron —” Enya grunted as Emil helped her stand. “He left us nearly dead on purpose. But you – you – he’s going to use you to ruin Eris. You need to leave.” 

“But –”

“Now, Iris. Before he sends someone to –”

“He already had my father waiting for me and I managed to get away. I’m not leaving.” 

“Iris –” Emil began but she cut him a glare. “You know he has plans –” “I’m not leaving.” she snapped. “Everything is already going to hell and if your father is going to hurt my husband – my mate, then I am going to be here and help in any way that I can.” 

Emil’s whole body seemed to lurch as he froze. “Your what?” he asked as Enya’s expression shuttered. 

“You heard me.” Iris breathed and her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. She would not deny him. Not now. Not here. And Eris may have been terrified for people to know about their bond but with things escalating so quickly, how could she worry about anything else? 

“I am aware that I promised Eris that I would get out but things have changed and I refuse to leave him now. You think if I tried to run, your father wouldn’t find me so he could keep hurting Eris?” Iris met his gaze and then turned to her mother-in-law, her eyes burning. “He’s the first thing that’s ever been mine. The best thing that’s ever happened to me and I’ve waited my whole life to have what I have with him.” Her lip quivered slightly as she glanced down at Oren whose breathing had finally evened then she turned back at them. “This is my fight too and should this end in fire, I will burn with him.”

“Iris…” Enya began and her mother-in-law’s lips trembled but Emil watched her with a look of calculated interest that Iris could’ve sworn had a flicker of pride in it. 

Deeming Oren healed enough, Iris carefully stood, glancing down at her stained hands, and fisted them slowly before she faced them once more. “I am not leaving him. He is mine and I am his and whatever may come…we will face it together,” she said and rolled her shoulders back, her tone offering no room for argument. “I hope I have made myself clear.”

It was silent for a moment and Iris’s shoulders tensed, wondering if they’d argue with her or force her to leave — if it was the smartest thing to do but then both Emil and Lady Enya nodded.

“Then I hope my brother trained you well, sister,” Emil said solemnly and her shoulders dropped. “It’s going to be a hard fight.” 

“Then a hard fight it is,” she answered and felt nothing but grim determination. “Now tell me, how much of the faebane was in the drink? Do you think the effects will last long?”

“I have an antidote on me. So should you, Mother.” Emil said and ran a hand over his clothing until he found the small vial that somehow hadn’t shattered in the beating he’d gotten then turned to his mother. “We should’ve taken it sooner. I miscalculated and now it’ll cost us –”

“I don’t have it.” Lady Enya said and her face was grave. “He took it from me and crushed it right before you came in.” Her shaking hands fisted in her dress. “He took it and crushed it like he crushed everything else in my life.”

Iris’s throat tightened as Emil’s expression shuttered before thrusting a hand out to his mother. “Then take mine. I’ll be fine to fight until my magic returns.”

“No, Emil, you must –”

“I have an additional one.” Iris cut in, her hand sliding into the hidden pocket of her dress and quickly handing it to her mother-in-law. “You need it more than I do. I will take no argument on this either.”

Lady Enya’s shoulders dropped and Iris hated to see her lip quivering as she slowly closed her hand around the vial and huffed out a weak laugh. “Iris, I –”

The door that Iris had deliberately closed behind her swung open and they all tensed. Emil immediately slid in front of his mother, hiding the antidote and Iris froze when she saw who was standing there.

“You truly thought you could get away from me, daughter.” 

Aron stood in the doorway, a smugness mixed with anger in his expression, and was now flanked by three sentries who bore no mark of the Vanserra brothers. 

“Do you not know when to give up?” Iris asked in exasperation, her hand immediately sliding to her hidden dagger once more. “How many more times must I humiliate you for you to be gone?”

Her father snorted and the sound had her stomach coiling as that familiar anxiety flared again, not daring to take her eyes off him as she shifted closer to Emil and Lady Enya. He was angrier now and Iris had dared to hurt him. His revenge was coming sooner than she had predicted and she couldn’t help glancing at the bruise still prominent on his temple. 

“We’ll see who shall be humiliating who, you stupid bitch,” Aron sneered quietly, his mouth curled in distaste. Iris flushed angrily to be demeaned like this in front of her family but it was that quiet threat in his tone that put her on edge again. Her father’s eyes narrowed as if he could sense her hate, sense her raging heart but he jerked his chin to his soldiers and they began walking towards Iris.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Emil snapped and stepped forward but Aron only gave the prince a cursory glance as Iris backed a step, then another with her father’s soldiers still approaching her.

“You’re still alive?” her father merely said, unbothered by the prince’s reaction. “Your father will be disappointed.”

Emil drew his two blades, a rage she hadn’t seen before cut through the usual calm demeanor he presented, and an invisible barrier went up between them and her father’s soldiers. “You all take one more step toward her and I will cut you where you stand,” he said, his tone lethally calm. 

Aron scowled and Iris clenched her jaw, her fingers tight around the hilt of the hidden dagger, the air in the room thick with tension as Aron glanced at them with a tilt of his head. “Now, now, prince. This doesn’t concern you. I’m here for my daughter and nothing else.” he said and gestured with a hand. “Should you and your mother choose to flee, I will grant you a headstart before informing your father that you still draw breath.” 

“You dare stand before the Lady and prince of this court and behave this way?” Lady Enya said, her expression filled with cool disdain as she stepped towards him and the lord had the nerve to lift a brow, glancing over her.

“As far as I’m aware, you won’t be the lady of this court for much longer,” Aron replied then added with a small, mocking smile. “Per your husband’s support, I do dare. My lady.”

Emil let a breath pass then another, the room beginning to heat as he scoffed in disbelief. “My brother was right. You certainly are too bold for your own good.” he spat and without warning, threw a blade, landing it in the throat of the soldier on the right with a thud. “Stand down or the next step you take will be the last.”

Aron grimaced at the fallen soldier to his side then glanced at Emil. “That was uncalled for.” he tsked. “Are you sure you want to behave like this, prince? Don’t you know what your father has in store for you?” 

“And what do you know about my father’s plans?” Emil asked, taking a step forward. 

Aron smiled in a way that triggered every terrible memory Iris had of him. Every bruise, every hurt he had given her always started with that smile and her grip tightened on the hilt of her dagger. “I am your father’s hand. I will execute them as he wishes,” he said. “My daughter is the final piece of the punishment he plans to unleash on you all but do you know who else will be part of it?” 

Emil’s eyes narrowed as Iris shifted a step over, her eyes on her father. “Considering you seem to love the sound of your own voice, I assume you’ll be telling me.”

Her father chuckled and it made Iris’s skin crawl. “I do believe you know her quite well,” Aron said and Iris watched Emil’s body tighten, her gaze caught between him and her father. “She’s a pretty thing. Gave her quite the fright when we yanked her from her hiding place.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“No sense in denying your lover, Emil. It’s Cosette, isn't it?” Aron said, making a show of consulting his lapdogs behind him and Emil seemed to stop breathing. “You can imagine how fun it was to watch her succumb to her fear as she was blindfolded. Especially when we popped out that little earpiece and she could no longer hear clearly what was going on.” Aron gave a nasty laugh and Iris felt her stomach drop, watching as color leached from Emil’s face and his hands started shaking. “It was delightful.”

“You can’t be serious.” Iris breathed and Aron spared her a look of disdain before his eyes went back to Emil. 

“Henry Adler’s daughter is a bold move for you, boy. Your father will relish in breaking you with her in company.” 

“Tell me where she is right now you fucken piece of shit.” Emil snarled and Aron tsked again.

“I would watch that tone,” Aron said and wagged a finger. “Your father gave me free rein to do what I must and we barely touched her. It would be a shame for you to bring her further harm should you continue to be disrespectful.” her father said and Iris felt bile rise in her throat.

Cosette was supposed to be long gone alongside Theo. If they had Cosette, did that mean they had him too? How long had they had her for? How had they gotten their hands on her? Eris had said the signal had been clear this morning. Her eyes met Lady Enya’s and they seemed to share the same thought: how had this happened?

“Stop this at once.” Lady Enya demanded. “Do not bring an innocent girl into this.”

“She’s the daughter of a traitor and the lover of one. None of you are innocent.” Aron crooned. “And I will do as the High Lord has requested of me whether you wish to see it or not. Maybe if you give up her father, we’ll do a trade.”

“Tell me where she is right now.” 

Aron only snorted. “And what would be the fun in that?”

Without warning, Aron and his remaining soldiers lunged forward and chaos erupted in the room. Iris swiftly moved, her training kicking in as she dodged her father’s grip. She couldn’t believe he was challenging Emil and Lady Enya so openly. Had they all lost their minds? Had the High Lord really allowed him such leeway? Then again, he had left part of his family to bleed out in this very room and if had his hands on two of them, what’s to stop him from killing their significant others as well? What of Helene and the baby?  

“Stop this madness, you fool.” Iris demanded. “The High Lord is –.”

Aron didn’t even spare Emil and Enya a glance as they took on his sentries, continuing towards her. The bastard wasn’t even using a weapon. “Worry less about the High Lord and more about how your husband will be paying for his crimes.”

Iris faltered for a moment. “My husband committed no crimes.” 

“No?” he said with a smile full of malice. “Treason isn’t a crime to you?”

“Save me your bullshit.” Iris snarled. “The only criminal here is you and I am so sick of your shit.” 

“When you’re with the High Lord, nothing you do is a crime,” Aron said with a chuckle then lunged forward to grab her but Iris dodged, her fist flying out and connecting to her father’s cheek. 

He blinked back in surprise and almost absently touched his face. “That is the second time you have laid hands on me.”

“And I will do it again if you even think about touching me.” she promised.

Her father watched her and Iris hated to see the curiosity in his gaze. “So it seems you have truly learned to fight.” Aron mused and the mocking tone grated on every nerve in Iris’s body as she moved.

“My husband taught me well.” she snapped and her blade sliced up as Aron reached a hand for her. Her father hissed and the scent of fresh blood filled the air as Aron glanced down at his bleeding hand and then back at his daughter. Iris swallowed, her heart in her throat as rage clouded his expression but she stood her ground. “He gave me everything you tried to deny me of.” 

“Then it’s a shame you’ll end up being his downfall, won’t it?” Her father hissed and lunged forward, slamming her into the wall. Iris yelped but refused to go down without clawing at him, anger and fear fueling her every move. She sliced her dagger again, meeting flesh when her father backhanded her and she grunted, trying to step out of his reach again. But Aron was angrier than she’d ever seen him before and when she tried to move out of his reach, he shoved her back against the wall, his elbow digging into her throat. “I’ve had just about enough of you.” 

“Then get the hell out of my way.” Iris snarled but her father ignored her and instead, yelled over his shoulder, “Now.” 

Iris’s gaze quickly shot to Emil and Layd Enya still fighting but the look cost her. Her father now had a small vial in his hand and with a nasty smile that had her hackles rising, Aron crushed it in his hand. “Say goodnight, daughter.” 

“Wait –” she gasped but her father only smirked then blew the powder in his hand into her face and a wave of nausea washed over Iris, blind panic unfurling in her chest as the last thing she saw was her father’s smug face before it all went to black. 

——

He had made a mistake. 

As Eris watched the people enjoying the ball around them, he knew sending Iris away before his father returned was a mistake. He didn’t know where the High Lord was, Emil and his mother were missing and with Emil missing, he didn’t know if Mikel was in place to take his mother away. 

The longer he stood there, the more quickly his lungs were shrinking, and if Eris didn’t force himself to breathe, he’d likely have a stroke on the spot. Everything in his body was shriveling at the sense of wrongness surrounding him, and doubt began to fester in his mind in earnest. 

Something was wrong.

Had they been stupid enough to think they could take his father on? Should they have gone about this differently? Could they have tolerated him a little more and snuck their mother out on a different day? 

Too many variables were out of his control now and the one person who had ever settled him was gone and still, Eris regretted not sending her away sooner. 

His fists clenched behind his back and when Izak and Finn casually slid up next to him, Eris already knew it would get worse. He quickly shielded them from listening ears. 

“We’ve lost communication with some of the soldiers on the outside,” Izak muttered, running a hand over his beard. “And there seem to be more sentries we don’t know in the room.” 

“Mikel hasn’t checked in again and I’m starting to get fucken antsy,” Finn added and Eris’s gaze sharpened on his brothers.

“What do you mean he hasn’t checked in?” Eris said. “You haven’t heard from him about the others?”

“I heard from Lucien.” Izak confirmed with a frown. “Helene is fine.”

“Nothing about Theo? Or even Cosette?” Finn asked. “Where the fuck is Emil?” 

Eris scowled then rolled his shoulders back, feeling every inch of him tense. “I need to find Father. You two figure out what’s going on and try to stay together. I don’t trust a single person in this room.” 

“We’ll go with you,” Izak said but Eris shook his head.

“You both can’t follow me. People will notice.”

“Where’s Iris?” Finn asked and Eris felt the question snatch his breath. 

“I sent her to find Oren and get out before whatever is about to happen does.”

Finn and Izak shared a glance that had Eris tense further. 

“I was going to tell you that Oren’s been too quiet for a while. I – I can’t get a hold of him.” Finn said tightly and Eris felt his stomach drop.

“What.” he snapped.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything –” Izak quickly said but Eris’s glare shut his brother right up.

“You know it means something.” He hissed. “You haven’t heard from Mikel and now Oren is missing. I sent her — if he’s not — and your father is still –”

Eris made himself take a deep breath and fisted his shaking hands tighter. “Do as I told you. I need to find your fucken father and find out where my wife is.” 

“Let me find Iris and make sure she’s alright. Maybe that’ll lead me to Mikel as well. You and Izak focus on Father.” Finn said and Eris met his brother’s gaze. 

“Finn.”

“She’ll be alright, Eris. You trained her to handle herself, didn’t you?”

“You know Father is a different kind of beast and I –”

The words died in his throat as his father casually strolled into the room and all the air in the room was sucked out as he made his way over to them. Slowly, as if deliberately giving them time to note each step.

Eris swallowed once then nodded to his brothers. “Get out. Get out now.”

“And leave you here?” Izak demanded quietly.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure being here with him alone is wise?” Finn asked. “Eris, if he’s already –”

“Whatever the damage is, it’s already done. Find the others,” he said and spared them both a glance. “Go. Now. Before he gets closer.”

A heartbeat of silence passed and the grim determination he found on their faces matched his own. His younger brothers. How different would their relationship have been had they grown up anywhere but here? With any other father? Who could have they become? What kind of lives would they lead instead of this?

The question that plagued him all his life rose to the surface as he turned to watch his father again: what would it feel like to finally take a breath without worrying about his father’s hand choking it out of him? 

The three of them said nothing and Eris only nodded once before the two of them scattered. 

He kept his eyes on his father as he walked toward him, his brothers steering clear of the High Lord. Even as his Father addressed his guests as he passed them, his eyes never left his eldest son and every inch of Eris tightened, winding up for battle. Whatever his Father thought was happening, Eris knew deep in his bones that he would be taking the brunt of it all.

His heart was a ticking time bomb and Eris had a feeling it would explode any minute with each step his father took toward him.

Time seemed to slow as father and son met, standing before one another. The music was drowned out and the glittering lights did nothing to stop the darkness that sank into Eris as he stared at his father. 

Even as they stood in a room full of people, Eris heard and saw nothing else but the male in front of him. The one person who had ruined his life and those he cared about in every way possible. 

“You seem to be waiting for me, son.” 

The High Lord’s tone was conversational, almost light and Eris clasped his hands behind him, matching his father’s tone. “Your absence was noted, Father. I was coming to find you,” he said. 

The High Lord gave him a faint smile. “Did you miss me, son?”

Eris’s smile was thin as his thumb tapped against his hand. “Always.” he lied. “I see Mother isn’t with you.” 

Beron shrugged an elegant shoulder, the corner of his mouth curling up. “She’s decided to take a break from the evening. She doesn’t seem to be feeling well.” 

Eris’s eyes narrowed, his heart thundering in his chest. “Oh?” he asked carefully. “She seemed fine earlier. Where is she now?”

His father didn’t answer right away and instead, let silence dance between them. The High Lord said nothing and Eris felt his slowly magic start to thump in his veins again. Loudly. Enough that even the dagger at his side seemed heavier. He wondered if his father could sense it as he watched him.

“You seem to be implying that I am lying to you,” Beron said in that same conversational tone and Eris made himself take a small breath through his nose.

“Of course not. I am merely surprised at how quickly she seems to have fallen ill,” he replied. “I will go check on her. Bring a healer to examine her as well.”

Beron hummed and the disapproval in it made Eris stiffen. “Your concern for your mother isn’t necessary, son.” the High Lord said and gave him a smile that didn’t reach his cold, dead eyes. “She will be fine. I need you here, dazzling the guests.” Eris’s brows flattened and before he could object, his father turned away and demanded, “Walk with me.” 

The tension in the air thickened as Eris hesitated a beat and then followed his father, the echoes of their footsteps drowned out by the thrumming beat of his heart. The continued casualness in his father’s demeanor grated on Eris and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking towards the beginning of what felt like the final act.

As they moved through the splendor of the ballroom, Eris scanned the faces of the guests, both relieved and anxious that he saw no signs of his brothers. The uneasiness continued to grip his chest, thoughts of his mother and Iris making it difficult to focus on anything else. The laughter and music felt insulting as the weight of impending doom hung heavy around his neck.

He followed his father until the High Lord reached his throne and took a seat, leaving Eris standing before him. Beron gestured for him to move closer and Eris took the two steps up the dais until he was facing his father. Beron said nothing, merely snapping his fingers for a server to bring him a drink and a muscle feathered in Eris’s jaw at the deliberate waste of time, praying to whatever gods were listening that he didn't shove the whole glass down his father’s throat. 

As if reading his thoughts, Beron’s mouth curled and he finally broke the silence, his voice low, ominous. “You've always been intelligent, Eris. It's a trait that I had hoped would serve you well, but it seems to be backfiring on you lately. Causing more trouble than it's worth.”

Eris shot his father a sharp glance, his jaw clenching again. "And what trouble might that be, Father?”

Beron chuckled darkly, and the sound sent shivers down Eris's spine, tension lining every muscle as he stood there. But the High Lord only sat back on his throne, his finger tapping on the flute of champagne observing his son and for once, Eris let his anger flare.

“Are we really going to play these games right now?” he said flatly.

“Interesting you should say that, son,” Beron said lightly. “Considering you’re the one who is playing a very, very dangerous game.”

Eris straightened, his fists clenching behind his back. He let a beat of silence pass, slowly breathing through his nose again before he spoke. “Am I?”

Beron hummed, his gaze burning into Eris, his eyes calculating his son’s every breath. “I understand you’re used to insulting my intelligence given how much control I’ve given you over our court.” he mused then made a discontent noise. “One could even say it was my fault that I let you be so unchecked. That I…trusted you.” 

Eris's stomach churned at the tone in his father's voice. He tried to maintain his composure; he usually relied on his father avoiding a public spectacle but given the circumstances, Eris wasn’t sure it would stop the High Lord this time. The knot of anxiety tightened in his throat and he cleared it before he continued. “Father, I would never –”

“Do not look me in the face and lie to me, boy.” Beron threatened softly. 

The High Lord’s gaze raked over Eris with that signature distaste and every fiber of his being was on high alert. With his father, that could mean anything. Eris was a busy male, he had been up to many things but didn’t dare let any emotion other than feigned confusion slip through. 

“And what exactly am I lying about, High Lord?”

“High Lord.” he spat and Eris bristled. “You mock the title with your deceit.”  

Squaring his shoulders, Eris forced himself to maintain a sense of calm, refusing to let his father get under his skin. “I’m sorry to hear that even tonight, I have managed to disappoint you, Father.” 

Beron spared Eris a glance before looking back at the guests. “We’ll see how sorry you’ll be as the night goes on, son.” the High Lord managed and Eris’s confusion wasn’t feigned this time, trying as he might to keep the beat of his heart steady. 

He ran his tongue over his teeth and said, “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

His father chuckled and the sound sent a shiver down Eris’s spine. “There are many things I wish to tell you but it will have to wait for the show later.” 

A beat of silence. “What show? We have nothing planned.”

“You don’t have anything planned,” Beron said and it was the predatory gleam in his father’s eyes that made the thumping in Eris’s chest quicken. “I most certainly do.” 

Eris struggled to maintain a facade of calm as a storm of prickling anxiety and rage boiled beneath his skin. He almost wished his father would outright say whatever it was he was up to and let the cards fall where they may so Eris could rework his plans. 

Steeling himself, he decided he would find his mother first and ensure Iris had made it out. He was too tense to tell if the thread that tugged on his ribcage was because of him or because of Iris but either way, he didn’t want to wait too long to find out. 

Eris needed to get away from his father. 

“Well.” he finally forced himself to say. “I will…entertain our guests until your show begins. Send a healer to mother and –”

“No. I don’t think you will.” Beron said with a hum and before Eris could brace himself, his father’s magic locked on his body, holding him in place. 

He couldn’t move. His body wouldn’t budge. 

Panic unfurled in his chest as he glanced at his father who was eyeing the room again, with no care in the world. “Father.” Eris hissed. “What is the meaning of this?”

The High Lord glanced at his son. “You don’t need to go anywhere just yet. I like having you by my side.”

“But I –”

“Did I tell you?” His father asked with a small smile. “I saw your pretty wife in the hallway. She too, was looking for your mother.” Beron’s tone was nonchalant. “We had a lovely chat.”

Eris didn’t get a chance to even appear confused when the High Lord seemed to drop the glamour around himself and he felt the world tilt as Iris’s scent washed over him. 

Eris took a breath. Then another.

He felt his soul leave his body at the smile his father gave him. A smile that meant more than it should. For Eris knew his scent mingled with hers and with an ironclad shield settling around them, his father knew Eris would not receive this news well. 

“What did you do.” he breathed and fear like he’d never ever felt before spiked in his heart. He fisted his shaking hands and tried to move, demanding again, “What did you do?”

“Do not take that tone with me.” his father said quietly, observing him. 

“Then answer my question.” Eris hissed. “Did you touch her? Did you hurt her?”

Beron’s chuckle was sinister and every morsel in Eris’s body filled with rage. “I only touched her a little bit but…perhaps that will change later tonight.” 

“Father.” he snarled and Eris knew it was only because of his father’s shield that the whole room hadn’t heard him. “Do not toy with me.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Beron said with a small smile. “But your wife? I shall certainly enjoy toying with her.”

Eris felt the world slide from beneath his feet as his father’s gaze remained on him and Eris tried his everything not to let his expression shift – not to give the fucker any satisfaction but his lungs had lost air and he wasn’t sure how to –

A choked noise slipped from his throat and Eris hadn’t been imagining it – his father’s magic was choking him.  

“You seem so worried about her.” The High Lord mused. “I haven’t done anything to her yet.” His father’s gaze bore into him. “With your scent all over her, I’ll need to wait a little while before I have my fun.”

“Father.” Eris choked but the High Lord merely tsked, his expression almost bored. And Eris realized at that moment just how well and truly fucked he was. If his father was hinting at his mating bond with Iris, he had to know about other things. His eyes sought out the blur of people for his brothers but he had sent them out of the room and Eris was forced to stand there – forced to remain locked like this in his father’s hold, glamoured so that no one would see anything unusual happening. No one would be looking at him. 

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me, son?” the High Lord asked, tilting his head as Eris struggled. “This is your chance to do so before things get exceedingly worse for you.”

Eris’s throat bobbed. How big of a spectacle would his father make this? He could break out of this but too many people were missing. Too many fucken variables he didn’t control. Could he unleash himself without setting the whole room on fire? Without harming everyone else? 

Did it really matter as long as he took his father out? Would it be justified if, at least, the High Lord was extinguished?

But no. He was not his father. He would not harm for the sake of harming.

He let his expression neutralize and slowly calmed his raging heart. He wasn’t sure about his mother but if Beron let Iris walk away maybe it would be fine. 

His brothers were on the prowl. He would give them a little more time – just enough that when he exploded, Eris would know they would be alright.

So he met his father’s gaze and said as conversationally as possible, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Beron let a moment of silence pass then sighed. “I’m disappointed by that answer.”

The High Lord’s magic tightened around Eris’s throat and he made a wheezing sound as his father forced him to take a step forward, forcing him to kneel before him. 

Beron’s hand reached out and if Eris could have, he would’ve flinched back as the High Lord’s hand brushed his son’s face. Had anyone been watching them, the gesture would’ve been loving but his father’s hand was anything but as he gripped his chin and forced him to look up at him.

“Remember that I gave you a choice.” the High Lord said, his voice full of violent promise. “I gave you the chance to confess and you decided to continue lying to me.”

“I have nothing to confess,” Eris said, his tone strained and his father’s grip tightened painfully.

The High Lord shoved him back with a snort. “Then do not complain when it all comes crashing down on your head,” he warned and raised his glass. “I hope you and your brothers enjoy the consequences of your actions.”

And every lick of fear he had ever doused – every prickle of anxiety he had fought off in the last few weeks crashed over him and Eris was helpless to do anything but wait for whatever hell his father was about to unleash.

[jayaawrites]

To All The Boys I’ve Accidentally Hit Send To

A/N: This is my first fic!! it’s a To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before AU but with the JJK men, I’m hoping to be able to make this into a multi chapter fic so…. please give me feedback!!

Sometimes, there are moments of complete dramatic irony where all you can do is try your best not to laugh. This moment, where you and Yuki are sitting next to each other, is one of them. The two of you are sprawled across your couch, catching up on Bridgerton as you do every Friday after rehearsal. Her hands are fiddling with the remote, while her eyes are glued to the screen, mesmerized by the scene playing before you.

"Not to be that person, but I don't think I'd ever forgive you if you did that to me," Yuki suddenly remarks, snapping you out of your reverie. You shake your head to wake yourself up a bit. "Did what?" you ask, half afraid of what on earth she could be talking about. Yuki gestures toward the screen, and your gaze lands upon Edwina and Kate Sharma arguing. "I mean, just look at them," she points out. "How do you ever recover from someone you care about so much stealing the man that you love?"

You shift in your seat slightly at Yuki's observations. Is it really that bad to get romantically involved with someone your friend cares about? The answer, of course, is yes. It's been yes for as long as you can remember, and if you had been in this situation two years ago, there would be no doubt you'd agree with Yuki. But that was before, before Yuki and Choso started dating, and you'd had your heart shattered into pieces.

Before Choso had become Yuki's boyfriend, he had been yours. Okay, maybe not really, but he was most definitely fated to be. All your relatives had expected it, and he had even made jokes about it from time to time, commenting on how embarrassing it was that your parents let you do anything so long as it was with him. And while you'd been skeptical at the beginning (when push came to shove, childhood friends to lovers was so overdone), because you were stupid and because you never knew how to say no to his honey-brown eyes and annoyingly beautiful hair, you had fallen for him—and fallen hard.

It had been hell. How are you supposed to navigate a crush that was seemingly inevitable? You'd avoided him for days on end before finding the courage to speak to him like a normal human being. And just when you'd built up the courage to ask him out, Yuki had called you excitedly to tell you that your super-hot best friend had asked her on a date.

Hence, here you were, watching Bridgerton season two with one of the people you considered your closest friends and pondering the ethics of fucking her boyfriend.

"Well!" Yuki gets up and stretches as the end credits start to roll. "It's getting late, and we have early rehearsal tomorrow, so I guess I better head home. Don't forget to bring an extra water bottle for me tomorrow if you can!" She grins at you and gives you a small peck on the head to say goodbye. You grin weakly up at her from where you're sitting.

"Bye, Yuki!" you wave goodbye and lock the door behind her as she leaves before collapsing back onto the couch with a groan.

Fuck.

You're screwed. Heavily. You need to get over Choso ASAP. You sigh and feel around the table in front of the TV before finding your laptop, wiping your hands clean of food before opening it up and drafting an email:

dancedancerevolution@icloud.com

Dear Choso, Remember that one time someone new moved in next door to you? We were six and some of the kids in our class had been making fun of you for only being friends with girls, and so when your eyes had landed upon the beady eyed brunette child who'd arrived with his parent I can still recall how your eyes had begun to shine a bit brighter when they landed on him. you and him became fast friends and because you were boys you'd do everything together. I felt horrible. all I could think was that I was a failure because I was a girl. it took weeks of me acting out towards the two of you before you'd pointed out the obvious : I was jealous. Back then it was easier, we solved the problem of jealousy through communication and you promised to include me more. So why is it this time my jealousy doesn't seem to want no matter how much you and Yuki include me in everything? When did my feelings become so overwhelming? It sounds stupid but I truly never meant to fall in love with you, and if I'm being honest I regret doing so. But I'm getting better, I swear I am. If not for your sake then for mine. So I can stop feeling little pricks of pain every time I see the two of you together. with all my love, your best friend

You finish typing and close your laptop with a sigh before switching your focus to the TV. Sure, your love life may have gone to shit, but at least you could focus on somebody else's.

[screampied]

❛ BED CHEM! ❜ t. fushiguro + k. nanami

☆ sum. being sandwiched between two of your co-stars during a séx scene sounds like a fever dream. the real fever dream is finding out who you have better bed chemistry with. the sweet blond who always talks you through it or the smug dark haired one who’s constantly stealing your panties.

wc. 5.9k

warnings. fem! reader, actor au, thréesomes, unprotected, semi-public, they eat you out at the same time, cervix mentions, premature ejac, size difference, dirty talk, pússy drunk men, praise, spít roasting, óral (f! & m! receiving), hair pulling, size kinks, bóob fondling, overstim.

“annnnd action.”

you mentally bite your lip, feeling every nerve through your body convulse from your co-stars touches. toji fushiguro and nanami kento—the most current hottest topic, you had this last scene to shoot for a movie you were the lead in. the scene in question was quite raunchy to say the least, both of them take turns to plant soft chaste kisses down both sides of your neck. both signature scents of their colognes were loud, a musk that forevermore wafts against your nose. your eyes flicker toward the camera every so often, trying to stay in character. this was probably the fifth take—you had a bit of a bad habit of missing your lines so there’d be a few retakes. emphasis on few.

“ken, look at her,” toji murmurs, and a gasp merely slips from you once his parted tongue creeps past his lips and onto your neck. his hand slowly trails toward your thigh and he squeezes it. “such a pretty thing. want more, do ya princess?”

you nod as a response but that’s when nanami’s hand gently cups underneath your chin. gingerly, a thumb ghosts by your bottom lip and he speaks sweetly. “ah, now sweetheart. we talked about that, we need a pretty answer from you, not a nod.”

“i- i want more,” you stammer, and as toji’s scarred hands continue to roam down your body, you suck in a keen sharp breath. the air felt substantially thick, mainly due to how all three of you were acting in a big spacey sauna. your hand grabs toji’s wrist and you slowly guide it down between the valley of your legs. the static of his plump shriveled fingertips brush up between the crevices of your thighs and it nearly makes you break character. “i want you both, please.”

“aw,” toji hums hoarsely, his pursed lips forming into a wry grin.

the more their hands ran down every inch of your body, the more your heart beat raced. its thumping quickened, and your thighs forcibly squeeze themselves together. the dark haired male softly creates circles around your thighs with a single digit before speaking breathlessly. “you want both of us, huh. not jus one? that’s bein’ pretty greedy, doll.”

“toji, she can be greedy if she wants,” nanami coos, and you make direct contact with him. .

the nanami kento, you’ve heard a lot about him. him and toji were both hot favored actors but him. actresses would kill to be in your role, kill to be in your shoes.

nanami kento was as smooth as they come.

suave, a gentleman, and of course, a smooth talker. your eyes gawk down his attire and he’s wearing nothing but casual—his sleeves were sexily rolled up and his usually parted blond hair was slightly ruffled and unkempt - most likely due to the growing humidity of the sauna.

tender brown eyes bore into you before he places a kiss near the twitching corner of your mouth. “relax, sweetheart. you’ll get what you want, promise. just be a good girl. can you do that?”

feeling as if your thighs were stuck together by imaginary adhesive glue, you let off a soft panting whine. “y- yes,” and you gasp, watching as toji’s head creeps lower. he’s being slow on purpose, teasing you—wanting for you to long for more, for him to hurry up.

a few bristles of his hair tickles and pokes against your leg before your chin’s softly being grabbed by nanami again.

“ah ah, eyes on me. don’t worry about him, focus just on me sweetheart,” and the two of you lock eyes. nanami’s dimples poke against the left side of his lips and he’s so pretty, he cups your cheek and you instantly lean into his touch. “good girl, get lost in my eyes.”

your mind’s running at such quick speed—it’s trying to remember the next parts of the script as they continue the foreplay. nothing could really be heard except for nanami’s gruff low voice and the faint whirring inside of the sauna.

the next scene, nanami would lean in for a kiss and toji would eat you out. you remember looking over the filthy script many months ago before you even landed the roll.

as your eyes would skim through every word, the explicit dialogue—the mannerisms they’d perform on you, a school of swarming butterflies would pour inside the pits of your stomach.

and now, it’s finally here.

it’s as if time stood still once nanami starts to lean in, closing the awkward distance between you two. once his lips gently crash onto yours, it’s as if your heart stopped for a minute. tender, passionate, and open-mouthed.

your head slightly tilts as you part your lips wider to give him access. nanami lowly groans in your mouth, tasting your syrupy saliva tangle against his own. “mhm,” and every few seconds, loud echoing smacks would slam against both lips. he tastes minty, but on his tongue you could also taste a bit of alcohol lingering on his breath. it’s sweet, and you wanted more. whilst his tongue’s being shoved down your throat, toji scoffs. he’s propped right up between your legs and you feel his big wide hands spread your thighs more.

a nonplus gasp leaves your lips at his roughly gentle touch — your body can’t help but grind against nanami, wrapping an arm and tossing it over his shoulder. “fuck,” you speak between sultry hot kisses, another one of your hands running down the bare slit part of his exposed chest. there, you’re met with a few curls of blond chest hair. you twirl it around with your finger and he groans in your mouth at your touch. back to toji, he starts slow. he creates sloppy wet licks and kisses that trail all down from your waist until he’s finally near your shorts.

“watch that mouth of yours,” toji utters, hot breath ghosting between your thighs.

he’d get closer and closer, closer until he’s just inches away from your the pretty fabric that sticks against your skin. verdant green eyes peer into the cloth that’s attached to your panties and he hums. “cute,” he rasps, pulling down the hem of your shorts for a quick inside peek. “looks like you remembered to wear panties this time after all. somebody’s learnin’, heh.”

“toji, stop teasing me,” your breath hitches, feeling nanami pull away to kiss near your neck once more. he was so gentle, curling his tongue around that sweet spot buried right near the inside of your neck and it makes you oh so weak.

toji just gives you a sly deadpans at you needy comment, slowly pulling down your denim bedazzled shorts.

with a scoff, he tugs on your panties with his teeth. “nah,” and with the fabric in his mouth, his words were a bit muffled. “dunno what’s the point of wearing these stupid things since ‘m jus gonna steal them again anyway.”

a breath gets lodged in your throat once nanami starts to suck against your neck, his teeth gingerly grazing against your skin. his breath was always so warm, every time it sets against your bare flesh you moan. as your glossy eyes ogle down back at nanami, you huff with a cute frustrated expression. your eyebrows knit and compress together and you merely whine. “just hurry the fuck up,” and your neck starts to lean back a bit. with both men having their hands on you—you weren’t sure how long you’d last.

constantly, you had to keep reminding yourself, it’s just a movie, it’s just another scene. .

or is it?

you’re entrapped inside of your thoughts, fully forgetting that you’re on film. as you’re in a temporary fantasm—you bite your lip before a clammy hand finds its way through toji’s shaggy ravened strands. instantaneously, black tresses entwine between your silvery fingers and you moan. he lays his tongue flat, teasingly lapping near the center part of your panties.

fuck, you’ve read over his parts specifically at least a dozen times and knew what he had to do during this scene but you didn’t expect it to feel this good.

toji’s breath was balmy, slow breaths whirl and fan against your clit that’s just barely being protected by the string of your panties.

nanami’s sloppy kisses trail down toward your chest and oh, you felt like you were floating. “poor baby’s fuckin’ soaked,” toji snickers as a fat thumb drags down your sopping cunt. he’s so quick that you don’t even realized he pulled down your panties—you don’t even know where they went. probably in his pocket, again. you feel a wave of heat flush over you as you can feel his feral gaze stare into your twitching muscle. “look at my girl’s nasty ‘lil pulse.” he hums, and his tongue does one single beginning lick near your folds. you whine, and his cold tongue as cold as ice. it’s a type of feeling you couldn’t put into words.

“toji, don’t hog her. i want a taste too,” nanami says in a gentle voice. speaking of, nanami could say the most nastiest things and it would still end up coming out like a compliment.

“s- shit,” you kiss your teeth, watching both of them with near half-lidded eyes once you see nanami’s head creep down also.

now, you’re being met with a chilling hungry yet feral gaze. you throbbed even more as you’re sprawled all out against the fragile bench of the sauna. tears of perspiration start to bubble against your skin as the heat gets a bit more thicker. it’s humid, and you don’t know if it was the temp of the sauna or them making you feel hot but you wanted more. your eyes meet them again, and you feel yourself getting more aroused once you realize. . they were both down on their knees for you.

to your left—there’s toji, he’s got the must smug expression. already near the left side of his lip, there’s a few droplets of your honeyed slick coating against his mouth. all from a single lick, you felt embarrassed at how wet you were. it was actually in the script that they would use lube to help you but clearly, you didn’t need it in the slightest. toji’s wearing a burgundy tank top that nearly sticks against his hard toned pecs. he’s so toned, a burly beefy body that looks almost chiseled, stoned. he looks like he’s been literally carved and sculptured from top to bottom. your eyes stare at his broad shoulders, his thick pecs, and even how a few of his black chest hairs pokes out from his shirt.

and then to your right, there’s nanami. a thumb of his slowly makes its way down your drooling salivating cunt and he’s almost in awe.

his pink glossy lips press up towards your entrance before he gives it a soft welcoming kiss. you moan at how delicate he was, and the longing tender stare he constantly gave you merely made your knees buckle. as the humidity rises in the sauna, strands of his hair continue to swelter against his forehead with the help of slimy sweat.

“my, my,” he purrs in a low voice, and they’re both right between your thighs. you couldn’t help but feel a palpitating sensation brew up between your legs. “we’ve got ourselves a wet one, toji.”

“yeah,” the dark haired murmurs, and his eyes narrow. but toji wasn’t fond of sharing - not one bit.

with a piqued eye roll, he leans in to lap his tongue against your pussy once more before nanami follows.

you release a sweet elongated moan you were holding in for the longest - but you remembered you had to be dramatic for the scene — fake.

that was kind of hard considering the blatant fact that yhey were actually making you feel good. but alas, you lazily slouch back against the wooden bench, letting off your best exaggerated moan.

nanami and toji both look at you at the same time and toji refrains himself from bursting out laughing. staying in character, he clears his throat, spanking your cunt. you moan, and your grip against his hair becomes more rough. he feels you yanks forward with a solid tug, grunting, and that’s when you feel nanami’s soft tongue present itself too.

slow, his tongue slowly runs itself against your pulsing clit and your eyes gradually roll themselves back. it’s now to where they’re both lapping up your dripping taste at the exact same time—both sloppy tongues flicking and slithering against your cunt oh, and you were an entire mess. it’s as if they were competing against each other. as they both bury their heads between your thighs, you start to shake, dragging their heads back and forth into your sopping pussy.

with your toes curling and your chest heaving, you mewl out a sweet whine. “oh my g-god,” your voice squeaks out, swallowing your own sheer arousing embarrassment.

their breaths collide against each other and land right on your pussy. so pretty, nanami’s eyes were closed whilst toji’s were wide open. he’s giving you a smug cheeky grin the entire time, using a thumb to occasionally glissade down against your twitching pussy. “damn, taste so sweet,” toji grunts, and you can hear the salacious timbre in his voice. a voice so deep that your thighs vibrate together. fuck, your hands end up delving through each of their strands of hair, tightly pulling them closer towards your pulsating heat.

both hairs curl within your fingers before you pull their faces even closer against your crying cunt, almost suffocating them. “mhm,” toji’s lips nearly glue against your pasty folds.

nanami’s tongue romantically swirls itself around until it reaches near your sweet nub.

that spot - your brain haphazardly haywires and short circuits right away and your knees almost collapse. “fuck, f- fuck ‘ken.” you gasp, dragging his head up. once you do, you’re met with a sleazy smile—he’s pussy drunk. it takes you a minute to realize maybe he’s not being in character anymore. nanami’s dimple still prods against both sides of his cheeks before he leans down, spitting right against your cunt.

“go on, ‘toj. lick it up since you wanna be greedy,” nanami playfully titters, running a hand through his hair just so he could touch your fingers.

toji’s shooting vexed daggers toward the blond before he’s almost nose deep against your pussy.

once he’s actually nose deep, he sniffs your cunt, spitting on it before lapping it right up. he does it all while staring at you too. “hmph,” he grouses, his long tongue moving toward nanami’s area, now slurping up nanami’s own sheeny trickling saliva.

you couldn’t lie, watching the entire risqué scene of both men fighting over eating you out right before you, right between your legs made you throb even more.

toji’s raven arched brows tweak inward before a hand of his pries your left thigh further apart. “don’t fuckin’ tell me what ‘ta do.”

nanami chuckles, pressing kisses near the warm crevices of your thighs. fawn sparkling irises flicker toward you before he whispers. “you doin’ okay, sweetheart. ‘s alright?”

“y- yeah,” your voice grows more shaky as toji continues. as if it had a mind of its own, a hand of yours tugs on nanami’s hair, guiding his head back toward between your thighs. nanami shakes his head with a cunning smile, going back to lapping at your tasty treat stored right between your plush thighs. swallowing a circled lump that resides at the back of your throat, your legs start to jolt. “f- fuuuuck,” your voice strains, and toji and nanami’s just making out with your pussy.

you watch the entire time—occasionally glancing up at the large propped up canon camera that’s a few feet away from you. oh right, it’s just a scene.

you were practically using your bottom lip as chewing gum with how they were vigorously eating out your starved cunt as if it was their last meal. they both used their crimpy long tongues to create such filthy circles and shapes on and around your pussy, maneuvering their fingers inside your cunt and all.

your breath starts to grow more and more irregular — changing its speed to being a lot more quicker the more they remain sat between your thighs.

“she’s gettin’ close,” toji murmurs between sloshes of smacks with his lips. each lewd ‘pop’ he makes with his lips leaves you dizzy and begging for more. the edge of his scar that runs down the right side of his mouth smears and rubs all up against your clit and it feels so good. it tickles, but in a more raunchy kind of way.

with nanami occasionally blowing and whistling against your folds, you were surely about to lose it. your mind’s spiraling—and as your fingers remain tangled in both ruffled strands and curls of hair, their chins start to glimmer and stream down with your candied slick. “look at me, girl.” toji pats your cunt, although it’s more of a wet slap. you whimper, moist doused droplets coming from your own pussy wetting his palm right away.

your eyes meet toji and the laps of his tongue grow faster. he’s munching against your pussy, swerving his head from back and forth before he grunts, playfully biting down on your clit. not hard, but enough to where it makes you let off a cute shriek. “cum, cum on my tongue, baby.”

“ah, i think you mean cum on mine,” nanami corrects him, giving your sensitive twitching clitoral hood a single kiss.

your eyes go back and forth between the two of them, but you can’t even reply because within seconds, you’re cumming, hard.

your mouth slightly drops whilst your jaw dramatically hangs open—pathetically dangling open as they’re still lapping you clean. both scorching hot tips of your ears were stuffed with imaginary fuzz. you couldn’t hear for a few long seconds—not to mention, your body was being invaded by a plethora of tingles that shot through your body.

“f-fuuuckk,” you whine, and you’re uncontrollably shaking. it’s a rush, a crazed rush that you do don’t want to stop. as you’re spasming, you glance down at the two of them.

“mphm,” toji’s still slurping at your dewy slick juices that stream from you before nanami’s tongue gets tangled with his. he blinks thrice, and their lips abruptly meet. panting and heaving, you watch—not really remembering if that was on script but neither exactly pulls away.

they’re focusing their sloppy slick tongues on your spasming convulsing cunt while mashing glossed lips together. you throbbed at the lewd sight of your two co-stars, seeing toji grow flustered and nanami being a bit more dominant.

that was rare, as stoic as of a man that he was, you’d last expect to see toji this way. you moan, still felling their sloshing wet tongues twirl around the insides of your sobbing pussy all whilst they’re making out. at contact, they’re both tasting nothing but you on their tongues the entire time, a concoction of saliva entangles with each other as they relish in savoring your sweet taste on their tastebuds.

“maybe you’re the one who needed attention,” nanami gradually pulls away, stands of shimmery saliva dragging away from both pursed lips.

“tch. shut up,” toji grumbles, and he focuses back toward you. he slides a tongue across and over crooked his lips.

the next thing you knew—you were being lifted up, tossed right over toji’s burly shoulder.

you gasp, feeling nanami’s gentle eyes bore into your curves before he positions you, using a single hand to spread your shivering thighs apart. you were still a bit shaky and sensitive from your most recent release—your teeth still shattered and saw how their jaws locked, especially toji’s.

you felt every nerve jolt through your body, coursing through your veins.

but once the actual scene came, you were screwed.

it wasn’t fake anymore, your orgasms and moans were very much real now. and that was perfect, you were perfect, because behind the lens—it not only felt real but it looked real too.

your pretty expressions, your flat pink tongue lolling out of your mouth and the way you’re panting. toji’s fucking you from behind and he’s just mean. hard thorough strokes that makes his hips snap right into you, crash into you at full speed to where he’s creating a fatal collision.

“ah, open,” nanami whispers, and your eyelids that were practically droopy glance up. you’re met with nanami. the blond’s got a hand resting on top of the crown of your head before he taps a thumb against your cheek. “let me see that pretty mouth some more, my love,” and you lean into his touch. toji’s hips however were so rude—your sweet incoherent babbles soon starts to grow a bit more quavery due to how rickety he made your body. the olden wood of the sauna nearly splits and you can hear the blaring cracks after each rocky thrust. your lips part open and your eyes go straight toward his cock. his boxers were halfway on with the cerulean blue hem of it just hanging and protecting his sharp carvend v-line.

so pretty, you just wanted to run your tongue up and down and across every line and spot that decorates his soft skin.

“ngh, a-atta girl,” the blond’s brows reluctantly twist together, watching your warm mouth slowly take him in fully.

god, your eyes were so mesmerizing to look at. he delicately cups underneath your chin, feeling the minuscule amounts of saliva drip from your lips. your jaw remains to hang open, dangling like an earring—and that’s when he’s slowly inching himself inside your tight warm throat.

immediately, you see a bit of his blond curly pubes through your blurred peripherals. nanami’s abs clench and tighten at the feeling of your hot mouth and he groans. “my good . . girl, ugh. pretty girl with an even prettier throat.”

toji’s still propped up behind you, two broad hands attached to your waist—practically glued on. you whine, your sweet noises becoming muffled as his hips plummet into you raw.

you feel your toes curl up within each sloppy degrading thrust he makes. as you’re taking nanami’s cock, you swirl your tongue around his mushroom tip that’s got a faint splash of pink painting near the very top. he’s bittersweet, your lashes flutter as your pretty plump lips envelope around his hefty length. a single prodding vein that runs down his cock twitches inside of your mouth and you moan at the feeling.

“fuck,” toji hisses, feeling your gummy insides squeeze and clamp around him. you’ve got your back arched as your hands cling onto the sauna’s ligneous bench.

the furniture’s woody and it continuously tottering by the second—loudly creaking as his pivotal strokes deepen. every few seconds, he’d swat a palm against your ass just to hear your cute whimpers. toji likes to gawk at the recoil, the way your ass cheek jolts back against his hand from the spank, it’s cute.

the concise twinges that follow from his hand makes your moans get louder, reverberating through the thin tapered walls of the sauna.

raspy pants leave from toji’s gruff vocal chords before his callous fingertips dig deep into the fat of your hips. his foot’s tapping against the floor as his head slightly cocks itself back. “mhm, shit. such a nasty girl, gettin’ stuffed from front ‘ta back. ‘s that what you really wanted, hm?”

since your mouth was currently occupied with nanami’s thick inches—you nod while starting to feel his bulbous tip repeatedly thwack back against the roof of your mouth. your eyes squeeze shut for a second as you’re twirling your tongue around his veiny length. steadily, nanami’s cock grows inside your mouth and you happily keep it warm. each twitching vein that runs down his shaft, you flick your tongue against it just to hear him moan out your name. you’re so aroused that you try to sneak a hand down between your trembly thighs, only to be swatted away by toji’s hand. you whine, a pout forming against your swollen lips as his pace quickens.

“no touchin’ my pussy,” he mumbles, and you felt yourself twitch. now that wasn’t in the script, but the more he smacked your cunt, the more you felt extra butterflies stir inside your stomach.

toji’s got such a good angle on you—he’s ferocious, ravaging through your pasty walls, feeling your sloppy slick run all down his cock.

your ass almost glues against his pelvis, and that’s when he leans right up against you. skin against skin, big hands reach near your chest, toying with your bouncy neglected tits. you moan, feeling his thumbs curl and squeeze against your perky nipples that poke through the blouse of your shirt. “such a pretty rack, yeah,” he lowly whispers, licking near your neck. his voice was so low up against your ear. so low, the playfulness in his voice was almost enough to make you cream on his cock right then. toji’s base was very full, and he’s now just smacking against your bare ass with. a few seconds later, he groans, feeling the brief pangs of electricity ripple near the undersides of his meaty calves. “ugh, god such a pretty view like this though. ‘ken fuckin’ wishes he had my spot.”

“oh, don’t flatter yourself, toji,” the blond hums, though as he’s speaking, you could tell he’s flustered.

your tongue has nanami stammering a bit, he’s patting your head, strumming a thumb against your pursed lips. once he meets your gaze, his breath nearly gets stolen away. “you’re doin’ so good, sweetheart. makin’ me feel so good,” and you watch his adam’s apple bobble. his praise warmed something in your heart.

it was something about being degraded from behind and praised near the front.

toji’s reeling your ass further back into his hips with ease whilst you’re focusing your eyes strictly on nanami. nanami’s heart races at the sight of you and now, he’s wondering if this really is just a scene anymore.

he found himself getting lost in your eyes—maybe it was a bit unprofessional, but you’ve had the gaze of an ethereal galaxy. the way your pupils would doe up and dilate as your head goes up and down against his length, he wanted more of you.

“that’s it,” he grunts, running a hand through his matted blond strands. nanami nearly loses his balance once your sucking turns into slurping. you’re a mess, your entire chin being damp because of your own saliva. he wipes some of it up with his thumb, only to taste it himself and he moans. your head continuing to bobble and he’s about to break, no, he is breaking. “slobber a- all on it, don’t be shy pretty girl. ‘s okay to be my messy girl. there we go.”

“tch.” toji’s eyes roll, and he’s still striking into you. your cunt was clingy, gripping around him tightly like a vice. the feeling makes his jaw tighten whilst your stomach seizes in rapture. he’s so deep, your limbs felt so flimsy as your pathetic breaths start to get more strained and breathy.

toji’s grip was angry, it’s french kissing right up against your cervix and you can’t help but let off a squeal. right there, he knows that’s your sweet spot and once he suddenly realizes it, his rude thrusts become purely maddened.

more souse streams of saliva drips down your chin as you’re slathering the entirety of nanami’s cock with your own filthy viscid spit. you look so pretty, cock drunk and on the verge of finishing yet again.

toji fucks like a madman—each stroke felt like your entire body was gonna snap in half. his body’s hovering over you and his warm completely radiates against your own. he’s so close that he’s merely humping you, sloppy greedy strokes becoming more feral as the seconds pass. his tip massaged your walls through and through, and your eyes were rolling way back until you saw nothing but pearly white at the back of your sockets.

by this point, this entire scene didn’t feel like you were filming for a movie anymore. it slipped your mind, you forgot this was literally your job.

“s- sweetheart, ‘m gonna cum,” a husky voice interrupts your thoughts, and your tongue still toys with his leaky slit. a hand of yours wraps around his full base, stroking him with a few good solid pumps and he’s so close. your touch made him shudder, the kind of shudder where he’s just addictive for more.

more of you.

“heh, that’s right. milk the pretty boy, babygirl. he’s all flustered because of y’er throat. that’s rich,” toji snickers, a rough cackle leaving his lips as his eyes meets his abashed co-star.

it was true, nanami was entirely flustered—he’s even avoiding eye contact now and sweating pinballs. toji’s hands were now sweating from the palms and he pulls your hips continuously back into him, each slam becoming more merciless.

but fuck, his cock was just insanely thick — it expanded through your walls as your cunt merrily constricts around his length.

it slides in and out, the squelches that your cunt makes because of it leaves you craving for more. your sopping wet, and he’s only making it ten times worse nanami narrows his eyes at toji’s teasing, lightly pulling your head down just a bit more to keep your attention back towards him. “hah, don’t listen to him, pretty. eyes on me, let me see that gorgeous face ‘m about to p-paint, fuck.”

nanami’s blushing tip reddens, and once he finally cums—it’s so much. it shoots out in stringy milky ropes, velvety and all.

it paints right onto your flat tongue and your eyes snap shut for two seconds at the bittersweet taste. your lips felt tepid, still having your mouth wrap around his cock as his dick now becomes soft and flaccid. “god,” he whines, multiple metallic fingers of his delving in your scalp.

nanami’s so pretty after he finishes, he’s got somewhat of a feverish glow to him and you see his veins pop out through each of his bulky muscles. it shows right through his shirt he wore, which was close enough to being see through.

“take it, swallow it f’ me sweetheart,” and he cups your chin, removing his dick from your dampened lips. his eyes were just as droopy as yours and he’s heavily panting. “ah, can you do that?”

with your cheeks all puffed up and stored full of cum, you’re completely dimwitted. you give him a nod, swallowing the hot seed before taking a second to breath. nanami doesn’t waste any time and he leans in, pulling you into a kiss. “i want a taste of myself too.” he murmurs breathlessly between kisses. as his head lowers to your level, you moan at the feeling of his lips pressing onto yours. it’s passionate, his tongue intertwines with your own and he then roves the tip of his tongue near the crevice of your mouth. there, he tastes a few remnants of his cum and it makes him groan.

toji’s still plowing into your sopping cunt that’s fully drenching down on him before he quips.

“hn. freaks,” and literally seconds after that, his cockiness fades away because he’s now cumming too. it’s quick, it hits him at full force like a speed of a semi-truck. toji’s ramming his cock up against that sweet spongey texture that’s making you whimper before he finishes himself. the build up was practically non existent. it was just sloppy, the hormone rush drives him insane and now he’s the one that’s short-circuiting. “oh s- shit,” he growls, feeling his dick starting to tighten and shrivel up whilst deeply buried inside of you. your grip was just so wet, it makes him suck his teeth in elation at how dripping wet you were.

from the waist down, he feels numb and his hips start to slow. it’s a buzz that even spreads toward his spine and he gruffs, spanking against your ass. “ngh, pussy’s fuckin’ dangerous,” his voice falters, it’s husky low pitch turning more high. it’s cute, and there’s a faint pout growing on toji’s lips.

nanami looks up at him with a flustered expression. “aw, too much for you toji?”

“shut up,” he groans, still feeling the after effects. toji came a lot too, masses of creamy hot cum fills up inside of you before it spurts toward your womb.

your thighs were on its final hinges as you were still arched and hunched over, desperate to see what you looked like from behind.

you were probably a mess, a mess with cum dribbling out of your fluttering hole. a saturated translucent ring forms around his base as he stops his thrusts completely, preparing to pull out. for once, hes speechless—at least for a few seconds anyway. “fuck me,” he groans, and his cock too, was now flaccid and idle.

your fingers run down towards your puffy clit to feel for yourself and oh, it’s even more stuffed than you even imagined.

sappy runny amounts trickle down your cunt, past your swollen lips and onto the sauna’s floor. you moan, squeezing two fingers inside to toy with yourself some more but that’s right when nanami swiftly grabs your wrist.

“ah, no sweetheart. no touching what’s ours,” he whispers, a thumb softly caressing near your palm. he sees the pout that mangles against your lips and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “i’ll think about letting you touch her after we shower.”

“and who says it’s up to you,” toji rolls his eyes, his voice still a bit shaky. he reaches near the glass cabinet for a dry towel before wrapping it around his slim waist. “i mean, i wouldn’t let her touch herself either but still.”

“but—”

“there there,” nanami shushes you, bringing a soft kiss to your lips. your face softens as you return the gesture, and you then gasp once he toji lifts you up. nanami wraps a towel around his waist also, and toji creeps up beside him. cool air wafts against your skin at the sudden movements as he then opens the glass sauna door. “c’mon, let’s at least shower on it.”

as you’re slung over toji’s broad shoulder, your eyes were met with the floor. all of you walk out of the scene set and toji’s big hand squeezes near your ass. “wonder if she can take us both at the same time.”

“she’s a good girl, i think she can,” nanami kisses your forehead as toji walks with you. “right, princess?”

you still felt hot all over your body, but you nod, wrapping your arms around toji’s neck. “y- yeah,” and your nose buries inside the depths of his collarbone. his strong brawny cologne scent again, you’re hit with it face first from each whiff. “i can take you both.”

“um excuse me? this isn’t in the fucking script!”

nanami and toji both glance at the director who’s got a vein popping out of his forehead. toji snickers and nanami grows sheepish.

“eh. it is now,” toji shrugs, and he gives your ass a teasing smack. “c’mon, doll,” and he snickers, turning his head to whisper to you. “we aren’t finished with ya just yet, heh,” and toji glances at the director, giving your ass a spank as you’re still thrown over his shoulder. “cut.”

[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-” 

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

[simpforboys]

surprise!

drew starkey x fem!singer!reader

summary: ever since the reader started blowing up, all the interviews and promotions that would ask her who her celebrity crush is, she always had the same answer. so when Jimmy Fallon invites her on his show, he might have a surprise in store…

warnings: fluff!! second hand embarrassment, reader gushes about Drew, she’s just a fangirl at heart

‘perfume’ by del water gap mentioned <3

part two , part three, part four

2020

“Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Drew Starkey, he plays Rafe in Outer Banks.”

“Do you have a celebrity crush?

“Yeah, Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

“Are there any people you would hope to collab with or meet?”

“Definitely Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

2021

“Last year you said multiple times Drew Starkey is your celebrity crush, is this still true?”

“Yeah, he’s still my main one.”

“Are there any guys you’re interested in?”

“My dream guy is Drew Starkey, if that’s what you mean.”

“What’s your type in a man?”

“Umm… probably Drew Starkey.”

2022

“Update us on all the boy drama! Anyone interesting?”

“Just waiting for Drew Starkey.”

“You look stunning! Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your crush around Drew Starkey, is that still a thing?”

“It still is… have you seen his new movie ‘Hellraiser’?”

2023

“Your new EP just released, are any of the songs about Drew Starkey?”

“Not on this one, no. Maybe the next one.”

“Are you seeing anyone? Has Drew Starkey called?”

“No, not yet. Maybe next year.”

“Have you seen season three of ‘Outer Banks’ yet?”

“Yes, oh my god! Drew looked so good.”

2024

“Your new song ‘Perfume’ is an absolute hit! Is it about Drew Starkey?”

“Omg, no, but it should’ve been.”

“You’ve quickly risen to fame! Has Drew Starkey noticed you yet?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s probably hiding.”

Ever since your career started, in every single interview you get the question regarding celebrity crushes, the answer was always the same.

Drew Starkey.

It became a known meme revolving you and your fans, along with the media. Practically every interview just loved to teased you about your known celebrity crush.

Your popularity rose more in 2023 to 2024, so, when Jimmy Fallon reached out to you to have you on his show, your agency immediately agreed.

Standing behind the curtain wearing a tight brown suit, the pants wide-leg. Black boots were your choice of footwear, your makeup done perfectly to match the outfit.

“Ladies and gentlemen, bring your hands together for Y/n L/n!”

When Jimmy announced your name, you came out from behind the curtain, a big smile on your face as you waved to the audience.

Shaking hands and hugging some of the crew members before you finally hugged Jimmy, settling down in the blue chair.

“How are you doing tonight?” Jimmy asks with a warm smile.

“I’m doing good! Pretty nervous to be honest, this is my first talkshow.” You answered sincerely.

The audience clapped and Jimmy sunk back in his seat a little more.

“Well, I’m glad to be your first one! So, your new song ‘Perfume’ recently came out, congratulations on 200 million streams.”

“Thank you so much, really.” Your hands were shaking as you fidgeted with the brown fabric on your knee, one leg crossed over the other.

“So, you’ve been singing since 2020?” Jimmy asks.

“Yeah, I started posting videos on Tik Tok but my career really took off at the end of 2023 and now here we are.” You smile, the whole experience still so surreal.

“Your voice is phenomenal, seriously. I’ll need to have you come back and sing on the show for us.” Jimmy says, causing the audience to erupt into cheers.

You laughed a little, nodding your head. “Of course, anytime.”

Jimmy continued to talk to you for a few more minutes about your career, the conversation flowing smoothly as you cracked some nervous jokes.

“So, I have to ask, Y/n. Since your career began you’ve said your celebrity crush is Drew Starkey, can you tell us more about this?”

You felt your face get a little warm as you shifted in your seat, an anxious smile on your lips.

“I dunno, I guess I’ve just always found him attractive. He’s insanely talented and just seems like a very genuine soul.” You say sheepishly, avoiding looking at the camera.

“He’s also becoming more and more popular right now, with season four of ‘Outer Banks’ that came out in October and November along with his new movie ‘Queer’.” Jimmy adds on.

“Yeah, I’m a pretty big fan so I’ve been following along with it. I’m very proud of him, in like a supportive-fan way.” You say, making the audience laugh at the last part.

You were completely oblivious to Jimmy looking behind you, motioning with his hand underneath his desk.

“So it’s not just his looks?” Jimmy teases.

“I mean, he’s a very beautiful man. He looks good with any haircut especially that mullet he had last year — and oh my god, he just looked so good in season four of ‘Outer Banks.’ Plus he has these big biceps that just bulge out of any shirt.”

You hadn’t even realized you were gushing over your celebrity crush until you finally caught yourself, hearing the audience laughing.

“Oh, gosh. You are really into him, huh?” Jimmy teases.

“What would you do if he was standing right behind you?” The host asks.

If you weren’t so nervous from being on a national talkshow you probably would’ve understood his message.

But your brain caused you to miss it, being as oblivious as ever.

“Probably pass out.” You answered, hearing the audience giggle more. Jimmy had an amused grin on his face.

“Please don’t pass out.”

Your posture immediately straightened, body tense as you stood up from the seat.

Turning around, your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw Drew fucking Starkey standing there.

The audience’s laughter grew as well as Jimmy’s, clearly satisfied with the surprise.

Your hands went to cover your mouth, face feeling hot like you had a fever. You just gushed about this man practically to his face.

“Hi, Y/n. I’m Drew.”

You couldn’t respond, just in pure shock as you stare at the tall man.

Drew also looked a little sheepish, his cheeks pink as he grinned at you.

“Did you— did you hear everything?” You finally managed to choke out.

“Maybe.” Drew chuckled, scratching the side of his neck.

“How do you feel after hearing all that, Drew?” Jimmy chuckles.

“I’m honored,” Drew replies.

You hated the way he fucking said that and the way you understood that reference.

Drew held his hand out for you to shake, but your heart was beating too fast and your brain was turning into nervous mush that you just embarrassed yourself in front of your dream man.

“Are you going to shake his hand? Hug him?” Jimmy chuckled.

“I’m… scared.” You murmured, the audience swooning and giggling over your shyness.

“Can I hug you?” Drew asked.

Stunned, your head slowly nodded. His strong arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

You couldn’t even hug him back properly, just too much in shock. He smelt like cologne and it made your knees weak.

“I love your new song, by the way.” Drew murmured softly in your ear.

“Yeah?” You whisper, feeling like an idiot for the way you were reacting in front of him.

Drew just nods and hums, soothingly caressing your back in an effort to calm you down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up one last time for Y/n L/n and Drew Starkey!” Jimmy has to end the segment.

The audience cheers as Drew continues to embrace you.

He had known about you for the last few months, having a few of your songs in his playlists.

He was just constantly busy so he never really got the chance to reach out, but when Jimmy’s team contacted him about surprising you on the show, he was excited.

And nervous.

“Sorry about surprising you like that.” Jimmy comes over, causing you and Drew to finally pull away.

“You gave me trust issues for talkshows now.” You said jokingly, finally calming down a bit.

Drew and Jimmy both laughed softly.

The film crew told you and Drew that the commercial break would be ending soon so to step off stage.

You did your signature on the wall dedicated to Jimmy’s guests, feeling familiar blue eyes gazing at you.

After thanking each crew member and shaking hands or hugging, an assistant pointed you and Drew towards where a car will take you both back to your perspective hotels.

“You ready?” Drew asked you.

You nodded, feeling nervous due to the fact that you were about to be alone in the back of a car with your celebrity crush, other than the driver in the front.

Drew opened the door for you as you climbed in, hyperaware of how he slid in behind you onto the leather seat.

It was quiet for a few moments, you nervously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

“So… you like my new song?”

You finally manage to choke out.

Drew smiled softly, turning his head to look at you. He was still a little flustered at everything that happened, but also very amused.

“I do, yeah. Are you going to shoot a music video for it?” Drew asked.

You nod, making eye contact with him.

“Yeah, my idea is to tell a story about these two lovers who move to like a quieter part, I was thinking either the forest or a desert, that live in poorer conditions but are completely happy and content because they have each other. I want it to be full of love, so kissing, affection, a sex scene.”

You rambled on to him, your eyes falling to your hands as you played with your rings.

“Oh, wow. That sounds cool as fuck.” Drew murmured, also watching your hands fidget. He thought it was cute.

“I’ve had the idea in my head for a few years, actually. I started writing ‘Perfume’ in like… 2021? So, I just want everything to be perfect.”

You added on, looking back at him. He had his left leg crossed over his knee, his body language towards you.

“Well… if you need a male costar, I would love to do it.” He gave you a smile.

A small grin curled onto your lips, stomach hurting at realization of what he just implied.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips.

“Mhm. I told you, I love the song. Plus, your idea sounds amazing, and if you want me to, I would love to be apart of it.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat when it finally hit you that Drew fucking Starkey wanted to be your on-screen lover.

“You’re not just fucking with me, right?”

You had to ask, blurting it out of your nervous mouth.

Drew just snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay… I’ll have my manager reach out to your’s about details for when we start shooting. I appreciate it a lot.”

You were unaware the car finally came to a stop, parked outside your hotel, fans and security guards waiting for you.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be there. Have a good night, Y/n.”

Drew smiled at you, your heart fluttering.

“You too, Drew.”

You got out of the car, letting the security guards guide you inside the hotel. You tried your best to take photos or sign autographs for your dedicated fans, something Drew admired as he watched from the back of the SUV.

By the time you finally got back into your hotel room and kicked off your boots, you started taking off your jewelry.

Flopping down onto the bed, you grabbed your phone.

It felt like your heart dropped to your stomach when one notification specifically caught your eye.

@/drewstarkey started following you back

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙲𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚙 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛

LADS Men and a cramp simulator. This is how I imagine they would handle it.

A/N: I’ve gotten many requests for a cramp simulator so this is for those who wanna torture their man hehe

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

[Before]

Of course he is berating you with questions. Where did you get this? why do you want him to do this? Will this have long lasting effects?

Believes you when you say your cramps are bad so he’s having a hard time understanding why you want to cause him immense pain

Agrees anyway because he will always do whatever you want him to do

[During]

This would be one of the rare moments you see Zayne break his calm cool and collected composure

“Are you sure you’re not having a heart attack every month?” He’s leaning on any surface he can find long after you’ve taken the simulator off of him

I imagine he has a high pain tolerance, but this was too much “You can turn it off now” you turn it up. “My love please turn it off” red in the face sweating and hands are shaking

[After]

You gave him your heating pad to help with the lingering pain “I was unaware of what you were dealing with every month”

Prepare to be pampered every time you get your period now; he's stocking up all your feminine products, tea, heating pads, painkillers, and your favorite foods and snacks

Monitors your heart closely during the week because he's worried you might have a heart attack

Brings up the option of medical grade painkillers, but immediately changes his mind because he doesn’t want you getting addicted

“Next time you start you period just take the week off” insists you stay home and let him take care of you, bringing you tea and rubbing your stomach

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

[Before]

Overconfident to start — he can sense when you’re not feeling well, but can’t sense your cramp pain he just knows you’re not okay

Believes you when you say your cramps are bad, but "there’s no way they’re that bad" he has a high pain tolerance so “this will be a piece of cake turn it up”

[During]

Trying to hide the grimace on his face when he feels the first ‘cramp’ “Keep going?” “Yea this is nothing” he’s already sweating

Screaming, whining, crying and damn near throwing up “I’m dying there’s no way im not dying I see the light” “You’re not dying” “YES I AM”

“This is what you go through? No wonder you’re so mean” “I was being nice this is what I actually feel” you turn it up and he throws himself on the floor “I’M SORRY I’M SORRY TURN IT OFF PLEASE” gasping for air as he rolls around

[After]

Leaves you little snacks and gifts outside the door whenever you get your period now

Has never asked “Is it really that bad?” again because he knows the answer now; gets pains just thinking about it

Had to go lay down and take a nap after you took the simulator off of him.

Stocks up on heating pads and rubs your stomach and back religiously now

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

[Before]

Isn’t nervous, but also isn't excited “I’m ready”

Is only doing this because you promised him hotpot afterwards

“You’re no stranger to pain” “Im not a masochist” “Debatable”

[During]

The pain was so bad that it pissed him off “This is complete bullshit” “I’m not interested in continuing this turn it off please”

When you turn it up so show him what you actually experience he’s kneeling at your feet begging you to turn it off “My Star please I understand please end this”

Accidentally grips whatever is near him so hard he breaks it

sweating, red in the face with tears in his eyes

[After]

Nurse Xavier now

Whenever you get your period he’s making you lay down and take it easy all week.

Is helping you in and out of bed

Leaves either a tampon or fresh underwear with a pad already lined in it on the counter for you when you get out of the shower

Loves these weeks now because he can nap with you as much as he wants

Carries you everywhere “Xav I promise I can walk” “With cramps as horrendous as those? You really are superwoman”

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

[Before]

Nonchalant as always has almost a bored expression

“I still feel pain Princess, but I'll indulge you”

You tell him to sit down, but he opts to stand

"You shot and stabbed me before I can handle this" "I scratched you" "You stabbed me clear through the chest" "What?" "What."

[During]

Panting and red in the face does his best to try and handle the pain

Breathing heavily and doubled over leaning against the nearest surface he can find

“Okay okay thats enough” brought him to knees once again “I thought you could handle pain?” “That does not mean I enjoy it”

Has to sit down for a while completely still like a statue after that

[After]

Already pampered you during your periods, but he’s upped it now

Literally tracks your cycle and makes sure he’s always nearby incase it comes early

Wants you to stay with him the entire time “I need to go to work Sylus” “No you don’t you need to rest”

Makes a nesting bed for you and is at your beckoned call

[nikkento-writes]

It starts with a distasteful joke from Gojo. "I bet Nanami's pretty vanilla in bed, am I right?" He nudges you playfully as he sips on his lychee mocktail in the restaurant. Your boyfriend excused himself to use the bathroom and Ieiri went out for a smoke, leaving you alone with Gojo, who you met for the first time just a little over an hour ago.

You're shocked that he'd even ask such a personal question, especially since your relationship with Nanami is still four-months fresh. Unsure how to respond, you simply laugh, not answering. When he continues to stare at you through his blindfold, your smile falters. "You're being serious?"

He smirks, clearly egging you on. "I just can't imagine our little strait-laced salary man being very fun in the sack. No offense."

You're torn between changing the subject all together into something less inappropriate and defending your lover's honor. And unfortunately for you, as the anger inside you begins to bubble at Gojo's tactless words, you choose the latter. "If you must know, he's very, very fun in the sack." You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. 

He shrugs, the shit-eating grin still on his face. "I just can't see it. But as long as you're satisfied, that's all that matters."

"I am very satisfied, thank you very much!" you emphasize, cheeks hot now, annoyed. Before you explode on him, Nanami and Ieiri return, so you try to contain your rage as much as possible throughout the rest of dinner.

You intend to keep his outrageous comments to yourself, not wanting to start any unnecessary drama, especially with Nanami who is above this type of ridiculousness. But remembering Gojo's smug expression makes you irate all over again. That night, while you're cuddling with Nanami, you share the story. "So, Gojo said something funny to me while you were in the bathroom." As you recount the short conversation from earlier, you keep it light-hearted, laughing about it as if it doesn't grind your gears (which it does). In all honestly, your sex life with Nanami is amazing, and while it's nobody's business but your own, you can't help being bothered that certain people think otherwise. 

When you're done, Nanami doesn't respond right away, processing it all before he speaks. "Interesting." His voice is steady, though you can sense a hint of annoyance in his tone. "He's an idiot," he adds, holding you closer, grazing his lips on your forehead. 

You giggle, snuggling into his chest. "I know."

"But...you are satisfied, right?"

The waver of uncertainty in his voice breaks your heart and you almost regret telling him. "Of course I am! You know I am!" you answer confidently, peering up at him.

He kisses your forehead. "You promise?"

Grabbing both his cheeks, you smooch him on the lips. "I promise."

Gentle kisses soon turn into sloppy ones as Nanami rolls on top of you, surrounding you in his strong and muscular body. It happens quickly; the blanket is shrugged off, clothes are stripped and scattered on the floor, your legs are spread wide for him as he eats you out voraciously, proving how much fun he can be in bed. He makes you orgasm twice like this, getting it nice and wet for his hard cock, throbbing in his fist as he strokes it. “Ride me,” he demands, laying on his back, licking his lips while you mount him.

You oblige, sinking down on his cock slowly, adjusting to his size. “Fuck, Kento,” you whine, wiggling on his lap until he bottoms out.

“Feels good, huh sweetheart?” He traces your mouth with his thumb, teasing it.

“Yes. So fucking good.” You suck on his fingers, rocking back and forth on his lap. 

He fucks you like this, his feet planted on the bed, bucking his hips up into you at a steady pace. Suddenly, his phone rings, interrupting for a moment. He glances at it, his expression tensing, showing you the name displayed on the screen: Gojo Satoru.

"Answer it," you say, grinding on him with a wicked smile on your face. "Prove him wrong."

For a split-second, he looks at you like you're crazy. But something in him snaps, probably the same thing that made you so angry earlier. Sometimes, you just want to prove yourself right. 

He picks up the phone, putting it on speaker. Gojo's voice rings out. "Nanami, I feel terrible. I said some inappropriate things to your girl - "

"Fuck me, Kento," you whine, bouncing on his lap as he thrusts up into you faster, entire body hot and electric with pleasure. 

Nanami has the phone in one hand and the other that was just in your mouth playing with your clit now. Through labored breaths, he says, "Sorry Gojo, I'm a bit busy being an absolute bore in bed. Isn't that right, kitten?" 

He holds the phone closer to you while you moan your boyfriend's name, your third climax of the night approaching quickly. "Kento, Kento, fuck me Kento!”

Satisfied, Nanami sets the phone down on the bed, gripping your hips to pound up into you, the squelching of his cock pummeling into your wet cunt so erotic and lewd. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. Gonna breed this slutty little pussy.” Over the edge now, he shoots his load inside you, letting out his own husky moans. He hastily lifts you off him to eat you out one last time, his cum leaking down from your cunt onto his chin as he sucks on your swollen clit until you come on his face, moaning obscenities incessantly. Completely spent now, you pull off him to cuddle, kissing each other messily as you both come down from your high. 

"Ahem." Gojo's voice startles you as you realize that neither he nor Nanami bothered to hang up the call. Horrified, the two of you wait with bated breath for his response, noting the suggestive ruffling in the background. "I apologize. I stand corrected."

[himbosandhardwear]

"Look who's talking, Mr Ponytail and a Crop Top," Steve says with a smartass grin.

Eddie looks down. "Huh?"

"You," he waves toward Eddie's general vicinity, "looking like some kinda Metal Cheerleader." He noticably swipes his tongue over his bottom lip.

Okay. This is it, this is the perfect moment to tell Steve he's sending signals that he definitely doesn't understand he's sending.

"Steve," he has to clear his throat before continuing, "I need to tell you something."

He leans in, wide eyed and focused. "Yeah?"

That's not helpful. "Um. So, to guys like me... Gay," he chokes out, still hard to say aloud even though he knows Steve knows, "sometimes you say things or do things that come off as...flirty. And I know you didn't know," he rushes to explain, "but I wanted to make you aware. To not do that. You know, in case the wrong person overhears it. It's a safety concern," he finishes lamely. Safety concern! Ugh. More like 'You're breaking my heart, I can't take much more of it.'

He waits for Steve to say something but he's just blinking owlishly.

"Steve?" He prompts, concerned.

"......yeah?" He finally seems to come back to himself. His eyes drift away, over Eddie's shoulder. "So...you want me to stop flirting?"

"Yeah, just in case, you never know who-" Wait. What? "What?"

Steve still isn't looking him in the eye. "What?" He mumbles.

"Did you say..." He can't even repeat it, it sounds like putting words in his mouth, but he did say that, right?

"Yeah. Sorry. I'll stop. I didn't realize it was bad, I guess. I thought... It's stupid. Nevermind. I'm gonna, um, take off actually. I'll see ya around, maybe."

He hops off the back of the van and actually starts walking away, like they're not 6 miles from his house. That snaps Eddie out of the paralysis spell he was under, adrenaline taking over like a bump of cocaine.

"No!" He shouts, like an insane person, and then takes it one step further by jumping up and tackling Steve into the grass.

"Uggff," Steve grunts when Eddie accidentally shoulders him in the gut, but he ignores the embarrassment in favor of crawling up his body so they're eye to eye.

He gets Steve's face between two hands and smooshes it. "Were you flirting with me on purpose?" He shouts.

"Are you serious?" He mumbles, half coherent, through pursed lips. "I'm gonna jump into the quarry."

"Answer the question!" He rattles Steve's head a little bit, for good measure.

"I work for Scoops Ahoy." Steve deadpans, unamused.

Eddie is going to throw one hell of a tantrum in a second. "Steve."

He smacks Eddie's hands away from his face. Doesn't bother to move out from under Eddie, he notes absently. "Yes, dude, obviously I was flirting with you on purpose! I thought that was, like, an understood thing that was happening. Why are you surprised?"

He feels like he's losing his mind. Why are you surprised the grass is made out of taffy? Would've made more sense as a question.

"Because you're straight." The duh is implied.

Sensibly, he asks, "Why would I flirt with you if I was straight?"

Eddie becomes very aware of every inch they are pressed together. Aware of the sound of the leaves rubbing together in the wind, aware of Judas Priest still playing through his speakers. Love Bites is a hell of a track to be having this revelation to.

"You're not straight?"

"No."

"And you were flirting?"

"Yes."

"With me?"

He rolls his eyes, not an ounce of bitchiness lost to his embarrassment. "No, Eddie, with the crusty blanket on your van floor. Yes, of course with you- Mmmphh!"

They probably shouldn't be making out on the ground at Settlers Quarry in broad daylight but, honestly, the shambling corpse of Jason Carver could show up right now and Eddie would not give two shits. Steve slides a hand down the back of Eddie's pants, grabbing what little bit of ass cheek he has, and Eddie thinks, Hope you're watching from hell, you bastard. Enjoy the show.

[filmstarved]

i can fix him and fuck him.

18+ [logan x female!reader]

nobody can break through logan's walls with ease like you can. and he actually lets you, welcomes it even. he needs it to breathe and when he's ready to walk out of the gifted youngsters door, there you are again.

word count: 5,737

logan sulks. he’s so devoid of love and compassion that he sulks. he’s confused most days, too. unsure of who he is and what he even wants. the people who are somehow closest to him can’t even find their way past the fire breathing dragons that guard the drawbridge to his heart. (scott jokes that he doesn’t have a heart and that the adamantium replaced it and he’s fully pumping cold, hard metal).

logan is a man who answers to himself and doesn’t give people even the slightest chance to ask him a dumb fucking question because he’s not in the fucking mood. he’s never in the mood…unless you put him in one. usually a good one.

you earn a smile from logan as easy as the sun makes it seem to rise every morning and the moon to take its place at night. it leaves the team dumfounded. they believe if you weren’t here, logan would have left a long time ago. they’re right. logan used to search high and low for any excuse to leave. he never knew where he’d go, he’d just…go. but you didn’t dare let him out of your sight. not ever since the professor had brought you to what you call home a little over a year ago now.

deep down, he wanted reasons to stay. somewhere deep inside that metal frame…he wanted things to be right again. he’d find it tiring most days to carry around his grief and anger. but you gave him reasons to stay just one more day.

“so we’re working on that thing for charles together tomorrow right?” you asked on a wednesday, standing so cutely in the threshold of his door that it was almost annoying to him.

“so we’re catching that movie downtown with ororo and hank tomorrow right? it starts at 6!” you asked on a thursday.

“heeyyy, lo…do you possibly, maybe think you could sub for scott’s morning classes tomorrow? he has a dentist appointment…,” you shyly asked on a very late sunday night. (logan heard scott’s jokes about his heart so he made you ask. logan was the only one available.)

but behind his stoic stature and intimidating glare fixed on his face accompanied by knitted brows, he’d always say yes…to you. you were his reason for staying. he knew it but would never admit it. you knew it but played the oblivious part well. and the rest of the team would gossip about it when you two weren’t around. but as long as you were here, logan has nowhere else to be.

although as of late, you’ve been busy. much busier than usual. charles has you creating plans for a mission happening soon. when you’re not teaching mutant ethics 101 to freshmen, you’re hauled up in the lab or library; sometimes darting back and forth between the two multiple times a day leaving very little time to worry about logan.

tonight, you brought your work back to your dorm. as you cleaned up a rough draft of an exit strategy, rain began to tap lightly on the window. you had lit candles littered around the room as well as grouped on your table, a small desk lamp illuminated the surface further. as you reached up to stretch your aching back muscles, you were startled by the sound of a throat clearing.

your eyes shot to the sound at your door where logan stood, leaning against the frame; arms crossed and still like he had been glued to the spot. 

“hi lo,” you say. “y’scared me, heh.” you aren’t used to logan greeting you often, especially not this late. he’s over 150 years old, of course he’s grumpy and an early bird. you’re usually the one at his door with requests and invitations to social events he assumes can be nothing short of insufferable. he sighs, his stare dropping to burn holes in the ground. “logan, are you-“

“i think i’m gonna get out of here, bub.”

those words felt like an arrow hitting the bullseye in your chest and then another splitting the first one right through the center.

“wha-what do you mean?…you’re leaving?” you asked, confusion and frustration trembling in your voice.

“it’s too hard being here.”

with that, you stood up from your chair, beelining to him. “c’mere,” you say hushed, pulling on his leather clad arm, trying to unfold them and get him out of the door frame. he doesn’t budge and you pull “the look” that you know he can’t say no to. “come sit with me please, lo.”

he unfolds his arms which allows you to grab his hands to lead him to take a load off on your bed. your bare feet pat on the hardwood floor as you quickly go back to close the door.

you walked back over to him, assessing his body language. ever since he let you use your mutation to “read him” a few months ago, you told him you’d never do it again without his permission. one gaze into his eyes and a touch of his skin and you could feel everything wracking around in his head. anxiety, rage, hate but love, pain. it was hard to feel just for a moment and your heart cracked knowing he was riddled with those feelings constantly.

but right now you couldn’t help it, he was slouched on the edge of the bed, his head dropping to rest in his large hands, and apparently ready to walk right out of the door. your powers are amplified with a touch and even more when you can look into their eyes. from a distance, you could feel a sense of unease and something else… a pressure…built up in your stomach as you surveyed your friend. it didn’t feel bad though…it felt familiar. a good familiar. you stopped reading him and did your best to shrug off the aching stomach feeling and care for your disheveled logan.

he wasn’t emotional, like ever. he hid all that, only showing you what you wanted to see; what he believed you wished him to be — happy, whatever that was. but that couldn’t’ve been farther from the truth. sure, you want him to be happy but also just whatever he wanted to feel, you wouldn’t suppress it or try to change it to fit some ideal of who people on the outside want him to be. yes, he was one of the meanest motherfuckers you had ever met but he was your mean motherfucker. (whatever that means because nothing has ever really been clear between you two).

you walked closer to him, forcing yourself in his diabolical bubble. you stood between his legs, removing his hands from his face to wrap them around your waist. you scooped your hands under his scruffy chin, pulling up to get a look into his bloodshot eyes. oh, he’d been crying.

“lo…,” you muttered. “why were you crying, wolv?” you slide a thumb across his cheek where tears had stained the skin. “why do you want to leave?”

he pulled his face away, breaking his stare with you. he dropped his head forward to rest on your stomach, wrapping his arms around your legs so his hands rested on the back of your thighs. he began to slowly rub the exposed skin of them that your very short night shorts didn’t cover. he lifted the hem of your shirt slightly to press his hot face into the soft, cool skin underneath. he hummed into it, allowing you to feel the vibration.

“logan,” you softly moaned his name under your breath. his fingers press firmly, inching closer to the crease in the skin where your ass meets thigh.

“is this okay?” he asks lowly, when he looks up for confirmation to keep going, you’re already looking down at him nodding. “say it’s okay for me to touch you like this, bub.”

“yes, keep going, logan,” you said curtly. in your voice there is a hint of need. you hadn’t been touched like this since jean’s christmas party, tipsy off spiked egg nog in the garden with a guy whose mutation was a very wet, long tongue. flirting with him seemed intriguing in the moment, but five minutes later, it rendered itself utterly useless due to user error. the sexual tension between you and logan is so potent it usually clears out a room. aside from accidental brushes of hands and quick looks at each others lips mid conversation, neither one of you has acted on it.

his hums turn to growls and soft whimpers as your hands ran through and tugged his hair. your fingers found their way to his nape, splaying out to grip the hair there in your fist. he managed to place a single kiss on the skin right above the elastic of your shorts before you pulled his head back to scrutinize his face.

“you don’t have permission to read me,” he groaned. before you could ask how he even knew that’s what you were doing he said, “you get this serious, focused look in your eyes. i can feel you in my head.”

“logan, what are we doing?” you ask, releasing his hair and stepping out of his bubble. 

his hands drop from the absence of your thighs onto his lap and his sighs frustratingly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, admiring your body in the dim light with a semi pressing on the denim of his jeans through his boxers.

“i’m…not doing this with you…if you’re just gonna disappear from my bed before the fuckin’ sun comes up. i’m not doing this,” you said, with your hands on your hips.

he pressed his hands into his knees to push himself up to tower over you. he took two big steps forward and stood in front of you. his hand raised up to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek to cup it and rub his thumb over the warm skin. 

he pressed his lips to yours, skillfully allowing his tongue access to it. you let him. “i give you permission,” he moaned in your mouth. “read me. feel how i feel about you…how i’ve always felt about you.”

he welcomed the hesitant slip of your hands past his jacket and under his shirt, shivering and chuckling “mm, cold” into your mouth. you rested your cool touch on his hips and with his mouth obsessed with yours, you read him. 

your head dizzied instantly and the hair on the back of your neck stood up. you had never felt anything as strong as this. you could almost taste the colors in logan’s head. your heart dropped to your stomach like you were on a rollercoaster, feeling sick from adrenaline in the best ways. and then, returned that good familiar feeling. this time buried even deeper in your stomach, moving it’s way lower…and lower until logan was swallowing the noises escaping you. before you literally passed out, you dropped your hands and took back ownership of your lips and tongue. breathing heavily, you moved away from him to collect yourself.

a beat of silence followed by a heavy sigh and a “well, say something” from logan passed and you opened your mouth to speak before shutting it again.

that…was the best thing you had ever felt. no drug could compare to the euphoria that a minute of kissing logan could bring. you could practically feel yourself lubricating and your upper thighs unconsciously squeezed together as you scrambled to find thoughts.

there were none. your mind already dumb and wanting more of him…more of the feeling. your fists planted firmly on both your hips as if you were grounding yourself to the floor to avoid buckling. you eyed the ground, looked back up at him and forwarded with another heated, taking-in-each-others-breath kiss. your hands found their way to the same place gripping the hair on his nape to which he praised the tug with a moan. he supported your balance as your whines got more whiney and needy and your hands held onto him like life support.

“lay down,” he said into your kiss. it wasn’t really a command, more of a warning because he tossed you on the bed like unfolded laundry.

he stood over you as you collected yourself, darting your tongue out to taste the spit he left behind. you propped yourself up on your elbows to get a look at the man casting a shadow over you. without the sounds of pleasure exclaiming in each others mouths, your ears absorbed the comforting sound of the battering rain. a tree branch smacked the window as thunder rumbled outside.

logan took a moment to admire your presence. starting at the top, he gazed upon your hair that he associates with vanilla and roses and the times he’d touch himself wondering how it’d feel being wrapped around his hand and pulled.

as he removed his leather jacket, he took his time mentally undressing you. feeling even more pressure build in your clit, you bore your hips down into the mattress, rolling them in circles to stimulate the swollen nub. he beheld your tits, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip at the sight of your hard buds under your very thin, white tank top. he threw his heavy jacket to the side, letting it thud in a ball on the ground.

“you look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he said, deeply enthralled by your scantily clad figure laid out in front of him. unable to stop staring, you could see the bulge in his pants get larger and it ridiculously turned you on. with you making eye contact with the crotch of his jeans, he effortlessly unfastened his belt buckle. the metallic buckle clanked to the floor as his jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. 

he stroked himself while he looked upon you. it was like you could read his mind, because you began to touch yourself. the twitch of his lips and darkening of his eyes validated your teasing. letting yourself drop back on the bed, you caressed your body for him. one hand occupied by cupping your tit and pinching and twisting your nipple while the other is exploring the wet spot left on your panties. not being able to handle eye-fucking you any longer, he dropped to his knees on the edge of the bed between your legs. logan hooked his arms under your knees, pulling you close which in your intoxicatingly lustful brain you found funny, so you laughed.

logan spread your thighs open so he could fit in between them to leave wet, sloppy kisses all over your skin. he nibbled here and there, earning soft hisses and hums from your parted lips.

kiss kiss nibble hiss mmm kiss hum nibble nibble bite kiss suck

he spent about a minute just doing that, leaving warm welts in his mouths wake. “i need these off of you, princess.” once he had kissed his way up to the elastic of your shorts, he snapped it. you nodded and he did the honor of pulling them down and flinging them across the room like he was opening presents on christmas morning. 

he let out an amused scoff as he ran his trembling hand down his face, caught between ecstatic disbelief at the sight of your black lace panties with little black bows adorning the seams. you mentally thanked your past self for slacking on doing laundry and only having your “special occasion” panties left to wear.

“d’you know how pretty you are,” he said. his eyes traced over every inch of you in excitement like you were artwork he stole from the louvre and made out like a bandit with.

his hand disappeared to slickly stroke himself, his mouth watering in anticipation for your taste. his chest heaves as he takes in the sight of you, studying every curve prettily laid out before him; thinking about every position he wants to see you in and every way he wants to please you. without another groan inducing thought, he lunged forward to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue demanding attention. you drink his breath like liquor becoming completely intoxicated by him. he needed this, he needed you.

“need…to taste…you,” he breathed in between kisses. with this mouth obsessed with yours, his hands caress your tits, his thumbing circles on one of the nubs while he’s pinching and pulling on the other. your head falls back and your neck rolls at the sensation, earning profanities from your pretty, swollen lips. your tit misses the hand that he proceeds to run down and up your thigh to locate the spot in your panties you were playing with a moment before. as he parts from your kiss, he’s hooked two fingers under the elastic, pulling those off swiftly.

you yelp when he pushes your torso down. you stare up at the decorative ceiling as he savors you, kissing and massaging your thick thighs. he’s enjoying playing with you as much as possible before allowing himself any pleasure. he wants your juice to cover his face…his neck…his arm…the bed…the floor too when he gets you to pop like a water balloon.

“logan…please, please,” you beg, pawing at his hair. you lift your head to watch the man between your legs taking in the sight and smell of your pretty, wet pussy. even in the dim light, he could see how much you ached for him. he not so secretly got entertainment from watching you lightly buck your hips up to his face and he would’ve let it continue but your pheromones became overwhelming for him; engulfing his head in it’s enchanting aroma.

like fresh pie on a windowsill, he was drawn into you. logan opened wide to swipe one flat tongued lick up your slit. he had one goal — to knock all sense out of you, to fully engulf you in pleasure. he wants you dumb and begging for him to stay right where he is — at the mansion and also all over you. 

logan audibly sucked and popped your clit in and out of his mouth, teasing the most sensitive bit. he’d suck and pop and then lick up your slick, repeating the act. one of his big hands reached up to cup your tit, pinching and twisting and circling. from his hair to the tit he wasn’t playing with, you clawed at whatever would ground you. being eaten by logan felt like floating above the stratosphere.

your wet soaked his beard and it only made him more horny, his cock dripping and throbbing in his fist. tasting you, inhaling you, winning pretty sounds from you, knowing he’s the one making you buck up and fuck his nose only made his appetite for you insatiable. he let go of himself to push his pointer and middle fingers into your needing pussy. you hissed and cursed. the thrill of him devouring you began to reach its peak. his fingers pumped relentlessly into you, curling them to stimulate your g-spot. moans, curses, the gushing of your wet cunt, his sucking and popping and vibrating moans mixed with the rain and thunder grumbling outside filled the dorm like mozart’s symphony no. 25.

he wanted to kiss you, so he did. with his fingers still coaxing an orgasm out of you, he shared the sweet taste. he got back on the bed with you, sliding his free hand under your back to push you up to further to see the mess you were making on the sheets.

“look at how good you’re taking my fingers,” he groaned, inching closer to your ear so you could hear his dirty language loud and clear. “you can come for me, baby.” he peppered a few kisses to your forehead, removing his hand from behind you so he could press it into your stomach. this only heightened the overwhelming wash of pleasure coursing through you.

“lo…logan, i’m-“

“fuck my fingers, baby. use them…oh that’s it…that’s it…i feel that clenching, c’mon you can do it for me. go big baby, make me happy.” his dirty mouth and sporadic clit circling and pumping in and out of you with his tireless wrist pushed you over the edge. you cowered into his neck, pulling on his white tank top and biting the salty skin below his ear as your pussy obeyed, erupting with your juices. out of breath and fucking dumb already, you could feel the wet soak the sheets under your ass.

logan pulled his fingers out of you, landing a light smack on your pussy before licking you clean off of his digits. you fell back on the bed, your arms above your head as you heaved and saw stars.

“‘m not done with you, princess.” he slid off the bed, still delighted by your taste and engulfed in your aroma.

“fuuuck,” you groaned. the pulsing lightning feeling spread throughout both legs as an effect of your rocking orgasm. logan was wicked with his tongue, a devious magician with his fingers and you were his sole audience member wondering about his tricks for sleight of hand.

he quickly tossed his tank, that had tug marks from your attempt to ground yourself, to the side, his muscles flexing under his skin. as he let your post orgasm, cock-dumb brain fog clear, he spit in his hand to fuck his fist. his saliva mixed with the pre-cum leaking from the head, he groaned and sighed heavily at the feeling of giving his dick some sort of relief. you, needy for another hit of him, propped yourself up on your elbows to watch the most delectable creature pleasure himself.

just the sight of him illuminated by candles and flashes of lightning outside as he gets off to how fucked out and dumb you look was enough to have you open up again and play with yourself. the sensitivity from your swollen nub required a delicate touch but your pussy ached, clenching around nothing. his knitted brows relaxed, eyes darting from your pretty face, to your tits, to your fingers rubbing circles where his mouth resided moments ago back to look longingly into your eyes.

“you’re gonna stay,” you said. your hand reached your mouth, your tongue swiping a lick up your middle and ring fingers, wrapping your lips around them to coat them in your saliva. “tell me you’re going to stay for me,” you elaborated. your wet fingers found your aching center.

“there’s no where else i want to be,” he answered. he paced closer to the bed where you laid, his dick basically making eye contact with you as he stopped a few inches away. “you’re mine, you know that?” he noticed your hand slow, “keep going,” he commanded. logan reached out to cup your face, tilting his head to get a look at you obeying his every request. “your face…your mouth…,” his thumb swiped across your lips as he spoke. “your body…your cunt.” he leaned down to kiss your mouth, leaving a string of spit attached to your lower lip. “your laugh…your heart,” he said kindly, his hand massaging your scalp. moans earned from his praise escaped you. “you’re all mine. is that okay with you, baby?”

you’re so bewitched by his aura and his subtle touches make your heart race so fast that you can’t do anything but try to maintain his torrid eye contact and nod.

“use your words, honey.” his thumb returned to the softness of your parted lips.

“i’m yours, logan,” you said, taking his thumb in and closing your lips around it. “if you’ll stay with me, i’ll be yours forever,” you breathed around his thumb, speaking from a mix of eager lust and the terrifying need for him to not to be an asshole, just once.

“i’m not going anywhere…i promise,” he said matter of factly before leaning back down to hungrily devour your kiss. “i need to…fuck you…now,” he cursed in between swallowing moans. 

“do what you want…i’m yours,” you said just clearly audible over the storm rumbling outside. you two shared eye contact so intense that you noticed his dick twitch from your peripheral. you took his dick in your drooling mouth, reaching up to squeeze the base of him. it twitched from the warmth, pressure and tongue swiping rhythmically around his angry, red tip. you kept yourself enveloped around his length, bobbing your head to hit your gag reflex. the added lubrication drove him crazy, his abs twitching under the toned skin of his abdomen. you moaned around him purely from the enjoyment you got out of having him stretch the corners of your mouth, feeling the sting from it. 

logan reached down with both hands to hold your head steady while he sped up thrusting into your throat. your gags and gasps for air, his praise and the storm filled the room beautifully. 

“fuuuck, baby, keep that throat open for me please,” he begged. his hands left their position to find a new one — one supporting his thrusting hips, the other petting your head. “oh, you look so fuckin’ pretty with my cock down your throat…you’re taking me so good, sweetheart.”

he pulled his dick out of your mouth to smack it on your face, complimenting how gorgeous you look. he kissed and licked the mess off of your mouth.

“mm, baby i need to know how good you feel.” with that, he rounded the bed to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” you turned around, crawling on all fours to obey him. his cock in its usual place to be, in his fist, leaks pre-cum in anticipation for you to smother it with your warm, clenching pussy.

“lay down,” he said.

“damn, yes sir,” you say, jokingly annoyed with all of his demands. you lay down next to him, your knees instinctively parting slightly. he lays on his side, resting his hand on your stomach, rubbing his large hand in flat circles.

“d’you know how long i’ve thought about this moment with you?” he asked, leaning in to kiss and suck the skin in the crook of your neck. you lustfully sighed at the sensation of his hot breath. his hand finds its way between your legs again, tickling and tapping at your slit. “i want you to read me the whole time i’m inside…can you do that?”

“are you—“

“yes i’m sure, i feel so fucking good right now and i haven’t even felt you. i want you to feel that and more,” he explains, pulling your chin in to taste the desperation on you.

before he came just from your kiss and rutting against the sheets, he hovered above you. his lips stayed attached to your chest, kissing lower and lower to suck a tit into his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue then biting softly on the nub. his hand disappeared from the side of your head to grab hold of his shaft, flicking his tip against your clit. his head dropped as he watched and listened to your slick coating his cock. he quickly swiped up and down your pussy trying to savor every fold and feeling. his brows furrowed, not being able to resist your warmth, he lined himself up with your hole, using his hand to guide just the tip into it.

“oh…fuck,” he groaned in excitement. he pushed in just a little more which caused you to hiss. his head shot up and eyes scanned your face for any sign of regret or unsureness. “are you okay? d’you want to stop?”

“no, baby,” you giggled, lifting your arms rest around his neck, one hand always finding a way into his dark locks. “just been a while…keep going, i’m okay.”

with your permission, he pushed in a little more. he let out a deep groan at the feeling of you stretching to form perfectly around him. you gasped, pressing a hand into his chest, feeling a similar sting to the one you felt in the corners of your mouth earlier. against his want to start thrusting his whole length into you, his went slow, watching your demeanor for cues to keep going.

“you feel…fuck…like it was made for me,” he said which caused the butterflies in you to flutter their wings even faster. “are you okay?” his chest heaved and his breath fanned your face.

“fuck me…please logan,” you said. your hands reached his hips, pushing them down onto you. without wasting another minute, he did. 

he bent your knee more to press it into your chest as his hips repeatedly slammed down hard, his balls smacking your ass. with one hand giving him better access by positioning your leg higher, the other cupped and squeezed your bouncing tit.

“oh my…fucking god,” you moaned. you had let the walls of your mutation down, allowing yourself to be flooded by not only your pleasure…but the love logan feels for you plus the absolute sheer euphoria that he was experiencing deep inside of your pussy. it coursed through your body like a steam engine leaving the station. it had felt like you had been brought to five earth shattering orgasms before the one that was bound to shake you again soon.

“you know you feel so good, look at that fuckin’ fucked out smile. can you feel it? can you feel how good you make me feel, baby? don’t stop readin’ me, princess. it’s all for you,” he praised for you to hear every word.

“holy shit…mm fuckin’…ahh!” your hands couldn’t help but find their way above your head, subconsciously reaching for the bed post for something to ground you again.

“here, baby, hold onto me.” logan grabbed your wandering wrist with his free hand, slapping your hand on his chest which you pressed into as if you were pushing him away. before your cock drunk mind could register what happened, he had flipped the two of you so you were on top. 

logan looked so fucking pretty under you. you took a second to breathe and take in the view before bending your knees to put yourself in a squatting position on his cock. you placed your hands on his heaving chest for support as you started to bounce your ass on him. ��oh this is so fun’, the thought making you giggle in elation as you drilled down your hips, rocking them back and forth to feel him stimulate the deepest parts of you. his thumb bored into your clit, drawing circles on it. 

as you kept bouncing your wet pussy on him just how he liked, logan lifted his knees up behind you and pushed you back onto them. he moved his hand away from your clit and picked his head up to watch his dick disappear deep inside you. then, he spit. his saliva landed on your pussy and stomach. he went back to stimulating you, fully realizing how much that turned you on from the tight clench around him and the extra juice running down his ass onto the sheets under you two.

he, still playing with your clit, summoned your face closer to his with the middle and ring fingers on the other hand. once closer, he grabbed your neck to kiss your fiercely. 

“you’re my good girl, huh?”

‘mhmm’ was all you could muster with his hand around your throat and his hips still ramming his cock into your stretched out hole.

“use those words for me, baby. are…mm, fuck…you my good girl?”

“ye…sss, baby i’m your…good…oh my fucking…girl!!”

“open your mouth.” he fucking spit in it. you moaned tasting him again and feeling it on your face. “good…fuckin’ girl,” he complimented, kissing you and then squeezing your cheeks to spit on your tongue again. 

your body started to go limp and your eyes were practically glued together. you could feel the searing hot orgasm burning up inside. you could feel logan in a way that you never thought possible. everything. 

his love, his passion, his longing, his fear, his anxiety, his lust, his heart…everything was yours in this moment. high on his feelings, you let your head fall back coming undone on top of him.

“oh you’re so pretty…that’s pretty, baby, keep…fuck…use me, it’s all for you.” his words took you further and further into ecstasy. it was a really good fucking trip that you never wanted to end. the pain of his cock fucking you out and his grip clutching your skin like he’d fall off earth without doing so made you moan so intensely that not even the thunder outside could compete.

he could tell you were a few fucks away from collapsing but so was he. 

“baby…you keep clenching around me like that…i’m gonna fuckin’ fill you,” he said. you kept bouncing on it, wanting him to even feel a fraction of how he just made you feel. he closed his eyes trying to last as long as possible in the heaven that he found in you. his thumbs bore into your hips as he used them to ground himself.

“i want it, baby…fill your good girl up.” you leaned down to speak into his ear and then carry on kissing his neck, letting him claim your moans as trophies. 

“fuuuuck…fuuuck,” he moaned as his thrusting became sloppy and you weren’t bouncing as much anymore. his abs twitched again along with his face. 

SNIKT!!

you hissed at the cool metal of his claws against your skin and the feel of him throbbing severely inside you as he let himself paint your walls. you thanked him in pleased moans before falling on his chest. still semi-hard inside, he kissed the top of your head to which you looked up and he gave you a proper kiss. he let himself twitch out a few more dribbles of cum inside you before pulling his claws back in to carefully rub your back.

a few beats of silence went by as you listened to each others hastened breaths and the rain tapping the glass. 

“…i love you, logan.”

“i think you know how much i love you, baby,” he said, smugly remembering how you looked coming on his dick, further escalated by his letting you read him.

you two snuggled naked under the covers and as you laid on his chest and listened to his light snoring, you read him again. 

ease and silence…and love.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

PLEASEEEE MORE POSSESSIVE JELOUS DRACO🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️YOUR BAD SANTA FIC WAS LITERALLY EVEYTHING. POSSESSIVE MEN GOT ME WEAK

thank you for the request!! hope this is satisfactory 🫶🏻

Flutterby Baby | D.M.

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Draco finds out another student sabotaged your Herbology project.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, draco’s pov, established relationship, possessive!draco, bullying, hurt/comfort, men suck, sort of rough fingering & piv, affectionate degradation if you squint (he refers to her as a plant), blood/fighting

masterlist

Draco watched as you pushed your pasta around your plate, staring absently at the whirls of sauce on the porcelain. You’d been quiet the entire meal, only speaking when directly spoken to by your group of friends, and even then, it was half-hearted, brief answers.

Both were unusual for his talkative, carb-loving girl.

He placed a light hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. The warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your perfume, beckoned him even closer, but he ignored his impulses. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked, low enough that your friends couldn’t hear.

“Yes, just not very hungry,” you said in your pretty little voice, placing your hand over his and pecking his cheek.

He didn’t buy it. “I can track down some takeaway and we can eat in my dorm, if you’d like,” he offered, wondering if the commotion in the Great Hall was a bit too much for you.

You shook your head, another stunning development. You never turned down takeaway. “I’m fine, baby. Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll make one of these sod’s fetch it for you,” he teased, hoping to get a smile out of you. He didn’t.

Draco sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning back to the conversation he was in the middle of with Theo and Pansy. He continued to watch you in his periphery as you started to play with his fingers, twirling his signet ring around and around. As much as he enjoyed the mindless contact, the delicate brush of your skin, he knew this was a nervous habit of yours.

He had half-a-thought to excuse you both, but he knew that would only draw more attention to your melancholy state, which would likely make you feel even worse. He could pick your brain later. Right now, he needed to make sure you were fed.

Casually, he picked up his fork, twirling a bit of his own pasta around the tines. Without breaking away from his conversation, he held the fork up to you, hoping you’d take a bite without really thinking about it. It was a small ritual the two of you developed during lengthy family dinners, something you often did automatically if he offered food to you. He felt you shift forward, your mouth wrap around the small bite, and you ate it.

He squeezed your thigh, a flare of affection making his heart pound. Good girl, he thought, but refrained from saying aloud.

The rest of dinner continued like that, Draco keeping your friends talking and distracted while he fed you small bites of his own dinner, your fingers twined with his in your lap. When he held up a bite and you gave small shake of your head, he knew it was because you were actually full, and he set his fork down, satisfied. For now.

That night in the common room, you were curled up in your chair by the fire, a book open in your lap while everyone pretended to study around you. He watched your eyes, your hands curled around the cover, and you were motionless. No pages turned, no lines devoured.

His worry deepened. Blaise seemed to notice as well, and gave him a curious look, dark brow raised. And of course, Theo caught the exchange, but turned back to his work, pretending he didn’t.

A prickle of suspicion climbed Draco’s neck. Typically, Theo was the first one to make a fuss over someone being in a sour mood due to his inability to tolerate negative emotions, but this time, he stayed silent.

Very odd, indeed.

But he could worry about Theo later. Draco lifted himself from the couch and walked over to you, dropping onto the floor in front of your chair. He tilted his head back, resting it against your shins. You reached down, dragging your fingers through his hair while you continued “reading” your book. He let his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and tried to think of a way to draw you out of your head.

Lips pressed against his forehead, your perfume wafting over him, and he hummed in appreciation, reaching up to cradle your face. You leaned your cheek into his palm, and he titled his head back a little further to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

Your lips moved against his, brief and tender, and some of his tension unwound. It didn’t seem that you were upset with him, which was a relief. But, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what exactly was troubling you.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you murmured in his ear, and he blinked in surprise, checking his watch.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“So early, love? Are you feeling alright?” He turned to face you, rising to his knees. The group noticed, but he was too concerned to care. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your cheek, your neck, but you waved him away.

“I’m fine, D. Just tired,” you said, averting your eyes from his and rising from your chair.

“Baby—”

You leaned down and kissed him again, cutting off his protest. “I love you, I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, pecking his cheek one more time before walking towards the girls dormitory and ascending the stairs.

Draco slumped back to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What did you do to her?” Pansy accused after a moment of tense silence.

“Nothing,” he snapped, though it was mostly toothless.

“She was acting strangely at dinner too,” Blaise noted. “She didn’t even have dessert.”

“Yeah, and she loves those chocolate things—what are they called?” Theo chimed in.

“Cauldron cakes,” Draco answered, glaring at them, irked that they were paying that close of attention to you. That was his job.

“Are you going to follow her?” Blaise asked, glancing at the stairs.

“No, he should give her some space,” Pansy said, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly capable of managing my girlfriend’s needs. Thank you,” he bit, and they fell quiet. He would leave you be, for now, but if you were still in a funk tomorrow evening, he’d be forced to intervene.

You were decidedly still unlike yourself come the following morning, and when he saw you during your shared Potion’s class. He continued to monitor the situation, trying to be patient like you often asked him to be, but that went out the window when you returned from your Herbology class with Theo in tears.

As soon as Draco saw your red and puffy eyes, he was on his feet. You ran straight into his chest, burying your wet face in his robes and digging your chilled hands into his back, trembling as your tears returned in earnest.

“Darling, what’s happened? What’s going on?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn’t respond, just held him tighter as you cried.

Theo tried to slip around the two of you, but Draco pinned him with a glare.

“What happened?” Draco hissed at him.

“Her Flutterby bush is dying,” Theo whispered, and you started to cry harder.

Shit. You’d slaved half the semester over this Flutterby bush in Herbology, it was your pride and joy, and you often stayed after hours with Professor Sprout to tend to it and the rest of the greenhouse. You had the greenest thumb Draco had ever encountered, and that plant was your baby. There was no way it would just suddenly die.

Draco raised a brow, and Theo made a ‘tell you later’ face. He nodded his head to dismiss his friend and turned his attention back to you, his poor, sensitive girl.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on—”

You shook you head. “It doesn’t make sense,” you sniffled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “It was perfectly fine. There’s no bugs or blights, I don’t understand.” You lifted your face, cheeks streaked with tears and lashes spikey, your eyes rimmed with red. The state of you made his heart ache.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to your nose. “If anyone can save it, you can. You’re brilliant, love.” He used his sleeve to wipe your eyes and your nose before bundling you into his side. “Come on, relax for a bit with Pansy. That’ll help you think a little more clearly, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him deposit you on the couch beside your friend, who immediately abandoned what she was doing to fuss over you.

He kissed the top of your head, satisfied that you were well looked after for the time being. “I love you, I’ll be right back, okay?” He murmured, and you nodded again.

Theo was waiting for him in the hall. “Okay, so don’t get mad,” he said, holding his hands up.

Draco’s anger instantly flared. “Don’t give me a reason to get mad then.”

“She told me not to tell you because she knew you’d get all—” Theo gestured vaguely at Draco. “All…this.”

“Out with it, Nott,” he growled, fully prepared to punch his best friends nose through the back of his skull. What could you possibly want to keep from him?

“We think someone poisoned her plant,” Theo said, grimacing.

Draco froze, rage flaring so suddenly it darkened his vision. “What?” he snarled.

“We can’t say for sure yet,” Theo said hurriedly, trying to get ahead of the oncoming storm. “But there’s this one guy—”

“Who?”

“Reinhardt? Renfield? Something like that, I don’t know, he’s a Gryffindor. But he—Draco, where are you going?”

Draco was already halfway down the hall, formulating a plan in his mind about how to find this guy, and how to make him wish he’d never been born.

Theo grabbed his shoulder. “Listen, I have a better idea than storming the Gryffindor common room,” he said, and Draco paused.

“Go on.”

Draco loitered outside the Greenhouse, hidden by some trees, a stupid plastic ear in his hand. Theo had the other tucked into his robes, and Draco could hear Sprout beginning her lecture through their connection.

Draco sighed. This was ridiculous, he should just waltz in there and figure out exactly who this—

“Hey, y/n,” he heard someone mutter, an unfamiliar male voice, and he immediately held up the ear to listen. “Flutterby’s not lookin’ so good. Maybe I could help clear away some of the dead stuff?”

Draco's ears started ringing so loudly, he almost missed your response.

“I'm killing it just fine on my own, Renley, I don't need any assistance from you.”

He heard Theo snicker in the background, and Draco smiled. Atta girl.

“My mandrakes are thriving, thank you,” Renley replied, his voice tight with indignation. “It's a real shame about yours, though. Probably would have gotten you top marks.”

You didn't respond, and Draco gripped a tree branch to stop himself from charging through the glass to get this audacious fucker.

“Fuck off, Renford,” Theo warned, the feed clouded by his robes rustling.

“It's Renley,” the prick corrected, his voice a little louder, and Draco could practically hear Theo roll his eyes. “So, what do you say, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Oh, this fucker was a dead man walking. “I'm willing to stay after and help you out. I'm good with poisons—”

“Poison’s?” You asked, a snarky lilt to your voice, and Draco loosed a relieved exhale despite the implication. For the first time in days, you sounded like yourself. “Who said anything about poison?”

“Oh, I—uh—”

“Reindeer, how did you know her plant was poisoned?” Theo prodded, his smirk audible.

“I don't! It's obv—it’s probably not p-poison!” Renley stammered.

“What's this about poison?” Sprout interrupted at the same moment Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from the treeline.

“Check fucking mate,” Draco mouthed, grinning.

“Professor Sprout, I do believe Renley here just confessed to poisoning y/n’s beloved Flutterby bush,” Theo said.

“Is this true, dearie?” Sprout asked you.

“Yes ma’am, it explains the strange phenomena we noted, as well as the sudden nature of the ailment. Renley’s been taunting me for days, and finally his mouth got ahead of his brain,” you said, poised as a Queen, and Draco was so proud of you it hurt.

Sprout gasped. “Mr. Renley! To Dumbledore's office this instant!”

“Crabbe, Goyle, grab him,” Draco ordered, stuffing the ear into his robes.

The two of them lumbered over the door, staying out of sight until the culprit stepped out into the sunlight, and Goyle grabbed Renley by the shoulders and started to drag him back around the Greenhouse.

“Hey! What the fuck—” his words pinched to a strangled whine when he saw Draco and Blaise waiting a few feet away, arms folded over their chests, completely hidden from the rest of campus.

Goyle shoved him to the ground at Draco's feet, and the coward was already sniveling.

Draco crouched down, nose to nose with the fucker that made his girl miserable, and smiled. “Was it worth it, Renley?” Draco asked, his voice low.

“Look, Malfoy. I didn't mean to—”

Draco didn't give him a chance to finish his paltry excuse and cocked his fist back, slamming his knuckles square in the side of his jaw. The bone crunched under his fist, sending Renley flying sideways in a spray of spit and blood, and Draco rose, clenching and unclenching his aching hand.

Normally, he'd step back and let the others get their hands dirty, but you were his girl. And if anyone was going to defend your honor, it would be him.

“No, no please!” Renley begged when Goyle hauled him back up. Draco punched him again, dead on the nose, then the temple, then the sternum. Goyle let Renley fall, groveling and weeping as blood ran down his face, his eyes already half-swollen shut.

Draco grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up so he could whisper in his ear. “You're lucky it wasn't poison,” he snarled, and dropped Renley’s head into the dirt. “Leave him on the front steps of the castle,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle, who immediately pulled the boy up and started dragging him back towards the castle.

Blaise chuckled. “That was fucking brutal, mate.”

Draco looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles, the pain bright and deliciously satisfying, his signet ring splattered with red. “Like I said, he's lucky I didn't decide to poison him.”

The chatter of students filled the air, and he looked up to see the Greenhouse emptying. Theo headed straight for them, glancing at Draco's knuckles and the blood in the grass before breaking out in a wild grin.

“Sorry I missed it,” Theo laughed.

“Where is she?” Draco asked.

“Staying behind to administer the antidote. Sprout is leaving her to ensure Renley is dealt with accordingly.”

“Well, she certainly won't be disappointed,” Blaise snickered.

“So she’s alone?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to clean himself up before seeing you, but wasn't sure he could resist the temptation. Not with his blood still running hot and your smart little voice echoing in his mind.

“Yep.” Theo smirked. “See ya’ back in the common room.” He and Blaise turned and started heading back to the castle, leaving Draco alone.

He rounded the greenhouse, knocking with his sore knuckles so he didn't startle you.

“Draco? What are you—saints, your hands!” You cried, rushing over to open the door for him. You grabbed for his hands, face pinched with worry.

“I'm fine, love,” he cooed, letting you fuss. The air in the greenhouse was thick and warm, coaxing him in like a embrace. It smelled fresh and lush, sweet soil and green leaves, like you.

Merlin, he couldn't think straight with you looking at him like that.

“Who did—” you paused, eyes narrowing. “Renley?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Draco!” You huffed, dropping his hands. “I had it under control!”

“I know you did! You were amazing! I just...accelerated the consequences.”

You glared at him, but he could see you softening by the second.

“Baby, I'm fine. And he'll be fine in like, four to five business days.”

“Draco!” You shouted, but you were smiling. He fucking loved what you called his name in that exasperated but undeniably affectionate voice. “You don't have to get involved all the time. I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, and Professor Sprout was working with me to solve it and—”

Draco reached out, pinching your cheeks with one hand, pursing your pouting lips and dragging you closer to him. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No one fucks with you so long as I'm breathing, is that clear?”

You nodded, eyes round and sweet like honey.

He released your face, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and craning your head upwards. “Can I kiss you now? Or would you like to keep telling me off?”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a playful, smiley kiss. “Anything for my hero.”

“Anything?” Draco purred, walking you back into the long work table. You gasped, arching against his chest, and he caught the sound with another kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste you.

Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his tie to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it.

And he could feel how much you loved it, your hips pressing against his as your hands wandered his chest, unable to pick a resting place.

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he spun you around. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself, your perfect ass pressing back against his rapidly hardening cock.

“Draco,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him.

He tsked, sliding up your skirt, admiring the way his ruined knuckles looked against the soft flesh. “Do you want me to be gentle with you, darling?” He already knew what your answer would be, especially after a few stressful days, but he felt inclined to double check.

You shook your head side to side, pressing your ass back into his hands. “No.”

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “That's my girl. You want me to scare away all those bad thoughts? Turn your brain off for a bit?” He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties.

You nodded, nails scratching along the wood when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle.

“Words, love,” he said, pausing his movement.

“Yes, baby. Please,” you whined, and his cock gave a painful lurch against his thigh.

“Colloportus,” he murmured, flicking his wand to lock the Greenhouse door. “Don't move,” he ordered, then walked over to the sink, washing the blood from his hands and muttering a quiet episkey to fix most of the damage on his skin. Some cuts remained, and his hands were still sore and slightly bruised, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to you, where you remained perfectly still, nibbling at your lower lip. In quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fall around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest against the table.

“There we go,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly.

“Better, darling? Nothing to worry about besides being my good girl.” He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, his signet ring kissing your entrance before he curled his finger up. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out, only to graciously stretch for him when he added a second.

“Fuck, D,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand. “You said you wouldn't be gentle “

He smirked, enraptured with the way your pretty little cunt yielded for his battered hand. “Just so pretty,” he hummed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, pressing you harder against the table. “Can't help but worship you a little.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he slammed his fingers inside of you, drilling into your channel with sloppy, punishing strokes. You cried out, feet sliding around on the floor, but he had you pinned and at his mercy.

“This better, brat?” He growled, nipping at your ear when you keened for him, unable to formulate a response. “Oh, how that fucker wishes he could see you now,” he drawled, straightening while his fingers fucked into you. “What'd he call you? Sweetheart?” He chuckled. “Sweet doesn't begin to cover it.”

“How did you—”

He slipped his fingers out to work your clit, the bud swelling under his touch as your orgasm built, and your words twisted into a moan. He tried to stay focused, keep you on the edge until he was sheathed inside of you, but couldn't bring himself to stop just yet.

“Are you sweet, baby?” He asked, swatting your ass cheek, enjoying the way your flesh rippled.

“Only for you,” you gasped, starting to tremble as that knot wound tighter and tighter.

“That's right,” he praised, undoing his trousers and taking his cock in his hand. He was insanely hard, the head a deep pink, pearly precum beading from the slit. He pumped himself twice to relieve some of the ache, then notched himself at your entrance, not pausing his assault on your clit for a moment. “All fucking mine,” he growled at the same moment he thrust inside of you, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, muscles contracting hard around him, and he groaned low in his throat. You were so fucking tight, gooey and supple when you weren't squeezing the life out of him. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your ass cheek in his free hand to keep you spread for him as he pounded into you.

He felt your orgasm hit the second before you did, your cunt clamping down on him a heartbeat before you screamed, your whole body locking up before going completely limp. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook, how much you begged. Your tears left damp spots on the wood, your knees trying to buckle inwards, but he planted his feet on the inside of yours, forcing you to stay upright.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back. “Doing so well for me, sweet thing.” He was panting, the heat of the greenhouse coupled with the exterior making sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. His knuckles burned from the salt, hands ached from being used long past when they should have been bandaged, but he didn't give a single fuck.

“Draco, shit—fuck me so good.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis.

“Give me one more, baby. I know you can. Then I'll water my favorite plant.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled. You were such a little freak, his little freak, and he loved you all the more it.

“You like being my pretty little houseplant? All mine to take care of?” Fuck, he was close, rambling in an attempt to distract himself and spend just a little longer in the delicious heat of your body.

“Yes, yes—fuck!” You were coming again, your whole body convusling as it ripped through you, and he was done for. He came with a yell, hips stuttering against your ass as he pumped rope after rope of release into your spasming cunt.

“Bloody hell, baby,” he moaned, bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, poor thing, were left drooling and trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “Did so good, love. So fucking perfect,” he murmured, throat tight with affection.

“Squishin’ me,” you giggled, squirming beneath him, and he straightened, nearly toppling over himself at the weak feeling in his knees.

“Sorry, darling,” he chuckled, and you groaned, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. He moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

“Mm, how did you know he called me sweetheart?” You asked, peeking over your shoulder at him while he grabbed his wand to clean you both up.

“I have my methods,” he replied, righting your clothes and helping you stand up, relishing in the lingering tremble in your limbs.

“Were you spying on me, Draco Malfoy?” You teased, tugging him down by the tie so you were face to face.

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

“What a horrible invasion of privacy,” you snickered, giving him a playful peck.

“You want to punish me for it?” He nipped at your lower lip and you grinned, pushing lightly on his chest.

“Enough you, I have to administer the antidote before my plant gets any sicker.”

“Good thing I already cured mine,” he teased, and you swatted him before slipping out of his arms.

“You're insufferable.”

“And you're adorable.”

You grabbed some items from the shelves and a watering can, then paused, turning to look at him, a deadly serious look on your face. “Can we get takeaway after this?”

He snorted, his heart doing a giddy little flip. “Of course we can.”

[liliavanrougelover]

Every universe

Summary: You ask the TWST boys if you're soulmates in every universe. This is their response.

Characters: All NRC (+ Che'nya, Neige) (Platonic Ortho, obvi)

A/N: guess who's learning to ✨drive✨?

Riddle Rosehearts:

He glances up at you from his desk in confusion.You’re simply laying on his bed and scrolling on your phone while he sits at his desk doing homework. “What?” he simply asks. And you repeat the question for him. He thinks about it for a second, letting himself process the question. He flushes and turns back to his homework. He clears his throat and finally responds, “Yes.” The amount of certainty in his voice could convince anyone that he’s right. And in his mind he is. He couldn’t imagine a world where he doesn’t love you and where he doesn’t get to express that.

Trey Clover:

Trey hums as he closes the oven, having just pulled out a freshly baked cake. He puts it down on the counter and grabs the frosting. He looks at you with a small happy smile and nods. “I hope so.” His words are sincere. He really does hope. He couldn’t imagine a world where you weren’t. He couldn’t say for sure, but he could hope that every version of himself had you.

Cater Diamond:

“Of course we are,” he responds instantly. He didn’t have to think about it. Or actually he has. He’s thought about it a lot. He’s seen this trend about asking your partner that question and has been wanting to try it on you. He would think you were doing that trend, but you’re not holding your phone and it’s not propped up anywhere. He thought about it when he first saw it, and came to the conclusion that you were. In what world would he not love you? The idea’s unthinkable.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce looks up at you and simply blinks. He takes a moment to think about it and smiles. “Yes,” He says softly. He looks back down at the work he’s doing. Or rather trying to do. He smiles at the idea. He thinks about different versions of you, and different versions of himself. And in each of them, he sees those two versions loving each other. He looks over at you again and smiles softly. He loves you. And he always will.

Ace Trappola:

“No,” he jokingly responds. He has a shit-eating grin on his face as he looks at you. After a moment, he realizes you’re serious. His smile drops and he takes a second to think. “Yeah,” he says, “Yeah, we are.” And when he sees you smile, it reinforces his answer. He couldn’t imagine any version of himself not loving that smile. He scoots over to you and kisses you. Yeah, he’s right.

Leona Kingscholar:

He grunts in annoyance when you ask the question. He was just on the verge of sleep before you spoke up. He processes your question for a second and mumbles something about you being stupid. When you give him a light slap on the arm, he chuckles. “Course we are,” he says, “You think I’ll let anyone else have you?” He then pulls you closer into his chest and nuzzles into your hair. “Now let me sleep.” The instant the words leave his mouth, he falls asleep. He doesn’t want to give you a chance to ask another stupid question.

Ruggie Bucchi:

At first, your question doesn’t register. He keeps his eyes on the shirt that he’s sewing. He pauses in his movements and then continues. “What do you think?” he asks, turning the question back on you. Of course his answer is yes, but why would he answer so easily? When you demand he answers, he laughs and looks at you with a smirk. “50 thaumarks,” he says.

Jack Howl:

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. He looks up from his homework to you sitting across from him. “Mates are destined to be together in every universe,” he explains, “that’s what my mom told me.” When you smile at him, his heart skips a beat and his tail starts wagging. Yeah, his mom’s right. Only you could pull this reaction from him. And only you will. In every universe.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul freezes at the question. His hand stills, leaving his pen in one spot on his contract. He blushes brightly once he fully registers that you just asked what he thought you asked. He stares down at the paper, but doesn’t register anything on it. His mind is racing. “Yes,” he finally says. And then he goes back to his contract. After all, you’re his. In this and every other universe.

Jade Leech:

The moment the words leave your mouth, Jade smirks. He looks at you with a grin, all his teeth on full display. “Why do you ask?” he questions. When you urge him to answer he simply chuckles. “I’d never let my prey escape,” he simply says. It’s a concerning answer (he sees you as prey??) but it’s also comforting in a Jade sort of way.

Floyd Leech:

“Of course we are, shrimpy,” he says with a smile. He wraps you in his arms and holds you close. He squeezes you without a care. “Why was that a question,” he asks, suddenly serious. “You think the same, right shrimpy?” It’s in your best interest to say yes.

Kalim Al-Asim:

“Yes,” he responds instantly. He smiles at you and passes a piece of paper over to you when Trien’s not looking. On it is a doodle of you and him holding hands. He smiles brightly at you, and makes a heart with his hands. And when you smile back at him, he can’t help but scoot his chair closer and throw his arms around. And he doesn’t regret it, even when Trien scolds him.

Jamil Viper:

He thinks about the question as he adds some more spice to the curry he’s making for both of you. He brings the ladle to his mouth and tries it before adding some more spices. “Every universe,” he questions as he shoots you a glance. When you nod, he lets out a contemplative hum. “Try this,” he offers the ladle to you and watches you take a sip and then takes a sip himself. “In most,” he finally answers. He knows all is impossible, but he knows in most of them you’re together. After all, that’s not impossible.

Vil Schoenheit:

“That’s an interesting question,” he says as he applies foundation. He glances at you in his mirror and softly smiles. “Yes, Potato. We are,” he answers. When he sees you light up his face softens further. He was soft for you. In every universe, he would be soft for you.

Rook Hunt:

Rook lights up the moment those words fall from your lips. “Of course we are, mon cheri,” he says with a smile. He wraps his arms around you and leans his forehead on yours. “You think so too, don’t you? That's the only reason you would ask,” he closes his eyes in contentment. And then he leans in and kisses you. In every universe, you would always be his muse. He can just feel it.

Epel Felmier:

“Huh,” he looks up at you from his apple carving. “Where’d that come from,” he asks in confusion. When you shrug, he huffs. From your mind, he presumes. Such a dumb question. “Course we are,” he says. He then adds a final touch to the apple and hands it to you. A heart.

Idia Shroud:

Idia freezes like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn’t expect this. His mind starts racing, as the question repeats in his head. His hair turns pink and he starts sweating. No romance game prepared him for this! “Uh, um… What do you think,” he asks. He needs your answer so that he can repeat it back to you. But when you insist he answers you, he lets out a deep breath. Quietly, he says, “yes.” He looks at you and he eases up when he sees you smile. Romance level has gone up, thank god.

Ortho Shroud: Friend

“Yes,” he says, “of course we’re still friends in every universe.” He smiles, or tries to. He then has a thought and giggles. “There’s probably a universe where you’re friends with my living self,” he says. That thought leaves you two theorizing about different universes. And in all those universes, you’re his friend.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus looks up at you with a curious gaze. Every universe? He smiles, “Yes. I’ll make sure we are,” he says simply. You’re not sure what that means, but it’s sweet. And he means it from the bottom of his heart. He’ll make sure in every universe, every life, every dimension, that you two are together.

Lilia Vanrouge:

At first, Lilia doesn’t respond. He’s in the middle of his game and he’s about to win, give him a sec. When the game ends- he won- he finally thinks about the question. He chuckles and looks over at you, laying on his bed. “Of course, my little bat,” he says with a soft smile. He takes his headset off and stands up. “Why don’t I prove it to you?” He throws himself into your arms and starts kissing every inch of your face.

Silver Vanrouge:

Silver perks up at your question. He was just starting to nod off. The question was unexpected, but it kept him awake, so that’s good. He looks at you and thinks for a moment. “Yes,” he says, “My love for you seeps into every universe and every version of myself. So yes, we are.” He softly smiles at you and wraps his arms around you. He holds you for longer than normal. Oh. He fell asleep.

Sebek Zigvolt:

“YES!” he yells. Who do you think he is? Of course he would be with you in every universe. If he is going to serve his liege in every universe, he’s going to be with you in every universe. You’re his human, after all. He’s going to take care of you in this and every other universe.

Che’nya:

He looks at you blankly for a moment before giving you a lopsided grin. “Who’s to say,” he responds with a shrug. He leans over, dropping his head on your shoulder. “Does it matter? We’ve got this universe.” He wraps his tail around you and leans in to kiss your cheek.

Neige Leblanche:

“Yes,” he says without missing a beat. He sweetly smiles at you and leans in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. “After all, a prince needs his knight,” he jokes. But there is a small truth to that joke. He could definitely see you as his literal knight in shining armor in another universe.