#a fierce red is something that can be so personal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eupheme · 2 months ago

Text

— from eden

old man logan x mutant!f!reader

rated e - 5k

tags: Logan timeline, sorta divergent/fix-it fic, angst, hurt/comfort, everyone is going through it, wound tending, dark thoughts/references to violence/death (aligning with themes in the movie), neurodegenerative disorders (Charles), multiple pov, established relationship, shower sex, oral sex, PiV, feelings

a/n: still on my druid!mutant kick - reader absorbs the sun via photosynthesis and can transfer that energy to grow plants. no features described but small details & a codename are noted in reference to her mutation.

Every day you wish you could do more. More for Charles. More for him. But the harsh sun eats away at you. You weren’t built for this heat.

You were meant for gardens. For Eden.

But you think… as your fingers trail through the earth, your life force flowing down into the greenery below - if something can grow here, in the desert - then maybe, so can hope.

Logan finds you in the garden.

It's generous to call it that. Carved out with old bits of metal, used like a spade. Scraping through dirt, packed and hard from the burning sun. Dust swirling around you - catching under your nails that are as tough as bark.

The only bit of green for a couple miles, at least. Incongruous to the climate - all you can see is desert around you.

It's only you that keeps it alive.

Your hands pass over each stalk and stem. The low thrum that used to come so easily, siphoning your life force to the roots below, comes slowly now.

Used to be able to make things bloom, just by feeling.

A garden had sprouted your first night together. Blooming lush - vines twining around the bookshelves. Wildflowers in your hair. Moss spreading out across the wooden floor, out and into the mansion.

Everyone had known you were in love.

It feels so long ago now. Another lifetime.

Now you can only tend them. You’re at your strongest in the rain, but it’s day twenty-three of sunny, blue skies. No more than a wisp of a cloud on the horizon.

It leaves you wilting. A half-broken lawn chair, dragged to face the packed-dirt road. Watching for him, as your face tips up to the sky. A slowly-recharging battery, one that hasn't been full in years.

But the sun is unforgiving. The tips of your fingers and toes darken - it's too much.

And not enough.

An eye cracks open, with the slam of a car door. There's a limp to his gait - a hand braced against the limo. Something you notice immediately. The way it takes him longer than usual to reach you.

That severe frown softening at the edges, but still holding a weight he's carried for years. A brown bag held out silently, the top crumpled from his fist.

Your fingers brush his, and you know he can see the burn. The mark between his eyebrows deepens.

"Don't push too hard, blossom," Logan rasps, "'Bout time to go in."

It makes your jaw grit, as you bristle.

You want to protest. Ask him "well, what in the hell do you think you're doing/?" He's the last person that should be lecturing you, as he shifts - a crimson glint of red near his collar.

But you don't. He doesn't mean it that way.

It comes out wrong, you've learned that by now. Misplaced anger - seeping into your roots like poison. Loving him so fiercely that it aches, to see him this way.

The Logan you knew and loved changed that day at the mansion.

"I will." You tamp the feelings down, burying them with the rest, "Let me get these started, and I'll be in."

He lingers, for a long moment.

You rip the seed packets open, scattering them across the earth you've prepared. Essentials, fit to feed Charles.

Carrots, beans, tomatoes, onions. Kale and fresh berries.

A packet of wildflowers.

There's a lump, lodged in your throat. You look over your shoulder, just as he disappears inside.

An inhaled breath, as you begin.

He knows you hate it, all the dust. The heat.

Knows you stay, for him.

Logan always was your sun.

"He's bleedin' again." It's muttered out, in greeting.

Caliban's eyes flick towards the back door, "Don't know if I've got enough peroxide to get it out."

Your smile is weary, "We'll figure it out. Always do."

A fine pair the two of you make. Only the mornings and evenings spent together, in your slow rotation of work-Charles-eat-sleep, and always just out of sync.

He tends to the smelting plant. An attempt at keeping things in place, keeping things running. Something simmering on the makeshift stove, as you empty your apron into the sink.

Outside is your domain - days spent with wind-whipped skin. The desert heat surrounding you.

"Could use some potatoes," Caliban offers, without thinking.

Peeling back the husk and silk on an ear of corn, fished out. Peering down at the kernels beneath - still hesitating, even though it's clean.

Your arms cross over your chest, head tilting, "Well, you're welcome to ask him."

It all comes out hushed, even though you know Logan is out with Charles. He gives shoots a reproachful look your way - he's already taken an earful. Doesn't need another from you.

He's been with you both for a year now. A second set of hands, as the seizures worses. You hadn’t wanted to admit you needed help - but Logan had saw right through you.

Charles’s space feels like a tomb.

Each minute you spend in that dome makes you crave another five outside. Too much for you to handle alone - something that still eats away at you.

Never felt like you were doing enough.

Carried the others with you, as he did. The shame of feeling like you should've done more. That you should have been there with them.

Buried beneath the rose bush that bloomed, when you had first told Logan you loved him.

You had thought that he had been. Had spent two years adrift, so certain he had been lost. That adamantium had not been enough to suppress the force of the seizures - that it ripped through the metal and took him from you.

It's why you cling now. Worried. Seeing how each day changes him, like it does you.

It's why you grow the vegetables for them. Even then, it's not enough. The suppressants they released still worked its way into the water and soil. You'd already ingested enough food to have it affect you.

Used to eat for fun, for pleasure. Haven't had a bite in two years now. Haven't needed to, haven't wanted to. Looking to the sun instead, even if it burns.

Now, you're just maintaining. Trying not to worsen, trying your best to keep them afloat, even if it costs you.

"Sorry." You mutter.

Easing into the routine of ladling out bowls. Chunks of half-stale bread, from the last time he baked. Hadn't harvested as much wheat this season as you would have liked. Pests chewing up a portion before you noticed.

The drought makes you hazy. Running on fumes for a while now. Same as all the rest.

Two bowls set on a plastic tray. A glass of tepid water in a chipped mason jar tucked in the crook of your arm. Fingers swirling in the liquid to cool them, before you're tilting it back - taking a swallow. Just managing to ease your parched throat.

"How is he?" You ask.

Caliban's eyes are slow to meet yours. He looks at you like he knows something you don't. Few secrets between you, except ones like these that he keeps deep. It always sends a twist in your belly.

Curling vines, weaving between your ribs.

"Logan or Charles, dearest?"

"Both." You sigh, "Either."

“Logan is… well. You saw him.” Caliban mutters. His nose twitches. A breath - as if he means to say something.

He falls silent instead, pivoting, “And Charles still thinks he's in Macbeth."

It makes your heart lurch, how so kind and sound a mind had changed. Not his fault and it only makes you love him more, after everything.

“Been asking about someone named Erik lately, too.”

You and Logan had agreed. It was better that Charles didn’t know, if he didn’t have to. That the two of you would bear it - shielding him like he had shielded so many for years.

But it never made the memories any easier.

His head inclines towards the trays, "You want me to take those out?"

Caliban knows you hate it.

You know the sun is still setting, sitting golden on the horizon.

A shake of your head, as the tray tucks under your arm.

“Thanks, Cal. I've got it."

The music comes first - 60s-era jazz, floating through the opened door. Voices come after, as you step into the shadows.

“-sorrow words, the grief that does not speak," Charles's reciting pitches louder, as his chair wheels in front of you, "Knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break-”

Logan stalks after, reaching for the controls.

"Enough."

"Thrice the brinded cat-"

The tray clatters on the top of an old desk. You step in front of them, arms spread wide, "Charles."

The chair halts, going still.

Something scrapes at your brain, when his hazy eyes meet yours. Fingers sifting through files. A dealer skillful hands, l shuffling through cards - snapping them back into place.

Plucking old memories from you like weeds. Dragging them to the surface, long buried.

He doesn’t mean to.

Doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

Your breath coming in a ragged gasp, eyes meeting Logan's. He doesn't need Charles powers to know what you're thinking.

Afraid that he'll see. What he’ll remember.

"Come on." Logan is hoisting him out of his chair. A grunt as he struggles, near dead-weight in his arms, “Enough poking around.”

Depositing Charles in his hospital bed, the last golden rays of sun streaking across the worn blankets. Logan just starts to move away, when a hand fists in his dark tie, dragging him close.

"You're not listening to me. No one listens to me." The words almost seem lucid, with how sharp his eyes suddenly shine, "Liberty, Logan. They're waiting for you. Eden-“

"No one is waiting for me." It's barked out.

Uneasy, tipping towards harsh.

Logan's patience has always ran thinner than a knife’s blade. It's love that keeps him here, you know that as well as you know your own name.

You have to step between them to break the connection. Hand wrapping around Charles' wrists - soothing, easing them down into his lap - as Logan fishes a bottle out of his pocket.

Slipping a needle into his arm. It's fluid, how you move together. Easier to help him together, then when you're alone.

It soothes the seizures. Thoughts slipping between his fingers, as he settles. The anger with it, as you bring dinner over to them. Your hand extended to take the pills that Logan shakes from a bottle.

"Take these, Professor." You coax, handing over a stained mug from the attached tray.

The chalky pills disappear, with the tilt of his head and a swallow of weak tea. Only then does it feel like you breathe. Letting your fingers drift across the makeshift herb garden he has sitting on the desk, something you tend together.

Eyes closing, as you concentrate. Pink petals blooming, plucked from the stem, and placed in Charles' open palm.

Logan's gaze a heavy weight - too tired from the day - you could already hear it in his voice. In the slow shift of his weight, as he eats.

"Only one?" The wizened fingers close like a cage around the flower, "You’ll have to work harder, Crescere."

The name is one that you haven't heard in years. It ricochets through you like a bullet, threatening to rip you open. You must show it in your face - a hand reaches to smooth down your back.

It soothes you, until an edge creeps into Charles's voice.

"If you cannot do more, how will you ever survive without soil?"

Logan goes stiff at the words. Breaking contact as if he'd been burned. A rough tilt of his head, as he pushes himself up.

“I’ll be inside.” It’s gritted out, through clenched teeth.

Leaving you alone, perched on the edge of Charles’s bed.

His mood already shifting, as it often did. The anger and confusion flaring. Melding with the medication that slows his tongue, dulls his thoughts.

“Crescere,” His eyes fix on you, while you watch the door creak shut. The moonlight has just started to stream in now, and it's just dark enough to imagine a breeze, “Have I told you about Eden?”

You tuck him in. The worn quilt tugged up high against his chest. A fingers smooth down to wrap in his - his hands frail with age, but his grip is still strong.

Tears prick your eyes, but you smile - your hand gently squeezing.

“Tell me again.”

His fingers fumble with the buttons. The black tie tugged loose, hanging against his chest. A hiss of breath, as sore shoulders roll. The dress shirt caught against his bicep, the sleeves still pushed up around his elbows.

There’s a hand against his shoulder. Your fingers slipping beneath the fabric, easing it down his arms.

“You gonna stop running from me?”

It’s soft, in the room that you share. A far cry from the mansion - all cozy, stained wood. Home.

Here, it’s sheet metal. Car batteries running a broken coffee maker, blankets stained with sweat. An industrial fan, slowly spinning where it’s mounted into the wall.

Wasn’t trying to run.

Just couldn’t shoulder your hurt, knowing he caused it himself. Knows that the heat eats away at you. Has watched how you struggle, though you hide it so well.

And the open seas - the sun and the salt water - would it be enough? Could you ever be happy, away in a place like that?

You’ve told him all you need is him. But pretty thing like you should be somewhere else.

Somewhere safe.

Knew he was too old for you, even back at the mansion - and that was when his hair was just starting to grey at the temples.

Now, he wishes he could convince you to go. Even if he couldn’t live without you.

But he knows your answer. That set of your jaw. Rooting you in place, unmoving.

It flickers in you here, as your arms wrap around him. Nose buried against the nape of his neck, as he exhales a breath that he’s held all day.

His muscles going lax as he leans into your embrace - letting you move him. Touch gentle as you guide him towards the bathroom. Fitting between spread thighs as he leans against the cracked counter, your fingers tracing the red-stained rips on the white tank beneath.

A cloth, wrapped tightly around his fist.

“Running to you,” Logan husks, “Just lost my way.”

You soften before his eyes.

Unwinding the wrappings to check the wound across his palm. Your lips pressed against scar tissue. Moving to backs of his knuckles, between the angry red slits.

Something in his chest lurches. Calming the beast, as his palm cups your cheek. Letting you lead him into the old ceramic tub, even though the space was narrow.

Lets you strip him down, knowing your eyes flicker over each scar. Looking for ones you missed, though you know them all.

Already knows what you’re going to say, when your gaze catches on the still-healing wound - a bullet beneath his collarbone. In his chest, through his bicep.

“Can’t keep taking hits, baby.” You fingers trace just shy of the wounds. Blood flaking, where he hadn’t washed well enough - two days spent in a shitty motel, each one thinking of you.

Need to shield yourself. Pick your battles.

He’s heard it all before.

Tried to earlier - wanted to gut the Alkali-Transigen fucker who had climbed into his limo. He is trying, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

All he got was a business card burning a hole in his pocket. A lie of omission like a lead weight in his belly.

Another tucked against his chest - the bullet nestled in the pocket of his shirt. Resting against his heart while he drives. Hidden, when he returns home.

It’s insurance - but it would still crush you to find it.

“I’ll ease up when you do.” He counters, though his voice softens, “Pushing too hard, sweetheart. We could stand to eat less, if you need a break.”

You sigh, as you lean into him. Face muffled against his chest, and he only just catches the words.

“When I used to imagine playing house with you,” You breathe, “I always thought it would be a little different.”

It makes his heart jolt.

Something tearing inside him, as his mouth presses against yours. A hand searching to turn the handle - the water stale. A weak spray that only reaches room temperature.

But it’s enough.

You wash the red from him. Swirling down the drain as you coat the washcloth with a sliver of soap. Careful in your movements, as your hair dampens.

As his hands catch at your hips, looking for an anchor.

A little huff when you fingers twirl - when he has to let go, to turn around. Soaping up his back, fingers raking through his hair.

The stress of the day sluices from him. Melts away as your lips press against his back, trailing across his shoulders. Nails tracing against his abdomen, as he leans into your touch.

It’s always been softer than he deserved.

And when your hand drifts lower, swirling soap against the dark trail of hair that leads down, he guides your hand the rest of the way.

A throb, at the soft inhale of your breath. Fingers that close around him, coaxing him to full hardness. His own scrape against the tile, as he props himself up.

Eyes half-lidded, as you nuzzle against his scars. Fist working him from root to tip - he can’t resist bucking into your touch.

His own hand wandering. Hesitant.

Afraid he won’t find you the same.

Reaching behind him, feeling the stretch of healing muscle and sinew as he cups the curve of your ass. A held breath loosened, when he hears the needy sound you make, when his fingers slip to trace between.

Teasing, drifting down to where you’re slick. Honeyed.

Always for him. Only for him.

His eyes fully shut now, as his fingers work inside you. Feeling the clench, the way your hand stutters.

Your breathing turning harsh, panting. His name whined out as your hand dips to cup him - the pressure coiling low in his belly. Hips nudging against his as he pets at your clit, smearing your skin with your need.

Turning, when he isn’t able to take it any longer. Always would be strong enough to do this - to hitch your thigh around his hip.

Lifting you enough to rub his flushed cock against your folds. Your nails biting red marks into his shoulders as he lines himself up-

The water cuts off.

The evenings rations depleted.

Your laugh is more of a whine than anything, but it’s still a sound he treasures.

His own lips curving, and it feels like the first time in days.

The words rasps out, coated with need.

“Let me take you to bed, honey.”

His skin is still damp when he lays you down.

Nestling you against the pillows - ignoring your soft protests of needing to take care of him, as he seeks out the honey between your thigh. Hands tracing up your leg, calf to knee. Up against smooth skin, until he can hitch one over his shoulder.

Letting him bury himself deeper. Tonguing at your clit. Down to dip inside you, a rough groan against your skin as his hips rut into the mattress.

He had you close already. You always unfurled for him, and that hadn’t lessened with his age. Automatic, in the way his fingers fit inside you, finding the spot that has your back arching as you cry out.

Stroking against it again and again, a groan caught in his throat as your fingers twist into his hair and tug.

Logan’s name a soft cry as he tastes you sweeten against his tongue. The tight pulse around his fingers, echoing where his lips shift to suck against your clit.

It’s only when you reach for his wrist does he stop, content to spent the night right here if you’d let him - make up for the time spent away.

Only then does he relent. His arm stretching out behind the pillows as he finally lays back, the tug of a smile as he watches you.

There’s a sweetness about you - all limp-limbed as your thigh lifts across his waist. Straddling him, as you lean - tugging supplies out of the end table.

Squirming, as his head lifts - unable to help mouthing at your breasts. A heady throb down low when he can feel your heart kick up a notch.

Always doing things out of order.

Each shift of your hips rubs your pussy against his cock. Slick and wet and warm, and he catches the curve of your lips.

The slow rhythm, as you pack padding against his wounds. Affixing tape to his skin, a kiss placed against one - as if it would help them heal faster.

His look heated, and he knows you feel it too. The hitch of your hips. The pressure when you grind down - your eyes blown dark when you look at him from beneath your lashes.

He can give you what you need.

A grunt, as a hand grasps at your hips. The loose supplies slipping from his abdomen, as he coaxes you into your knees.

His other hand wrapping around the base of his cock, tilting his hard length up to rest against your belly.

“Need you.” It’s gritted out.

On another day he might have swallowed it down. Let you come to him.

But right now, he can’t take any more teasing, wrapped in your soft touch. He’s already resisting the urge to drive into you, as you angle him against your opening.

The slightest pressure, as you start to give around him - opening up. And when you finally sink down flush against him, he forgets himself.

It’s now and it’s six years ago - all those evenings spent, entwined.

Fitting together, watching the way your brow still pinches as your body makes room to take him - the stretch as your hands curl into fists against his chest.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” It slips from him, when your hips fully meet his.

It only makes you squeeze more tightly around him, his breath caught in a low rumble in his chest.

Your own admission, as you dip down to kiss him, “Missed you more.”

Finding himself transfixed, in spite of the weariness. The ache in his bones that are now a part of him are forgotten in the way you watch him.

Eyes half-lidded, as you find your balance. Starting a slow grind of your hips, a look thrown his way when you feel his muscles string tight beneath you.

The lightest pressure of your palms against his chest, careful of his wounds.

“Want to make you feel good.” It’s a command, tinged with permission. It’s woven with love, and the thought of taking matters into his own hands ebbs.

“Always do, sweetheart,” Logan husks, “Every fucking time.”

Letting himself settle back against the mattress. Losing himself in the tight grip of your pussy. Your soft curves, as his hands wander.

Squeezing the soft flesh of your ass, urging you to ride him harder. Slipping up to tease at your tits, an upward flex of his hips when you cry out his name.

You once told him that you wanted him the first moment you met him. Now, he wishes he had met you sooner.

A year. A day. Even a minute.

The thought pulses in his chest, in time with his heart. Fingers skating over skin as you ride him. A flash of white when he thumbs against your clit, giving you something to grind against.

You’re molten around him. Soft and sweet and it’s all he can do to match the way you bounce on his cock. Feet planting against the bed to help can meet you, urging himself just that little bit deeper.

Melting just a little bit further, when you can’t help but lean down - needing his mouth against yours.

Flattening yourself against his chest, as your rhythm goes needy. Sloppy grinds instead of the sharp slap, taking him deep and keeping him there.

His thumb swirls, and your ragged moan breaks the kiss. Head dipping as you lean back - hips chasing your pleasure, rocking into his familiar touch.

Can smell how much you need it. How you drip around his cock, the coarse hairs matted with your desire.

Teeth clenching, and it only makes him fuck to harder into you, to loosen your tongue.

“Logan, fuck-” It’s whimpered, in that pretty tone that he loves, “Think I’m gonna come-”

The leash he grasps onto slipping between his fingers. A low heat in his belly burning brighter, a pressure ticking down with each slap of his hips.

“Know you’re close. Let go, baby. So fucking good for me-”

Something rasped out, as you flutter around his cock. Taking him deep, spearing him into your belly.

“Fuck, I can feel you coming on my cock.” It comes out ragged, his breath catching, “Gonna make me come, too-”

Your gaze is dark. Hands pressing harder against his chest as you find yourself again, riding him harder. Panting through it, as it tips towards too much - your orgasm still burning brightly.

He's surrounded by you, and he only wants more. Fingers pinching into your hips, driving himself into you.

“Wanna make you come,” You breathe, “Want to feel you tomorrow-”

It’s enough that he forgets himself. A hands tight against your hip, a sharp tug that pulls you flush. The other curls around the back of your neck as he flips you beneath him.

Your gasping laugh pairs with his snarl. An arm hooking under your knee - pushing, opening you up as he holds you in place.

Watching how your eyes glaze. Following the tug of your fingers, bringing his mouth down to yours. Your pulse thundering beneath his thumb, as his tongue licks into your mouth.

He tastes like you, as his eyes slip shut. You linger on his lips, smeared across his beard. A ragged moan as your hips lift to meet the sharp smack-smack-smack of his hips, and then his vision is going hazy.

Your name snarled out, twining with soft sentiments. Hilting himself just as the pressure reaches its peak, his cock throbbing as he spills with a growl inside you.

The tension easing with each flex of his hips, fucking himself empty into your warmth. Into your embrace, your arms wrapping around and keeping him close. The scruff of his beard scrapes your cheek, but you only hitch a thigh around his hips - nudging him deeper.

Logan would stay here forever, buried in you, if he could. It slips from him, then - rasped low into your ear.

“Fuck, I love you.”

He should tell you more often. Would tell you every day, if not for the guilt that twists in his guts each time you say it back.

But tonight, he can only lean into it. The soft whisper, as your lips drag against his cheek. You say it just like you used to. It still comes just as easily.

“I love you too, Logan.”

And when his breathing settles and his eyes open - his chest catches.

You're adorned with your devotion - hair dotted with alyssum. Forget-me-nots and primrose dappled across your shoulders, yarrow and heather blooming around your curves.

Had learned the names of them, long ago. They come back, as his fingers trace over each bloom.

You’re beautiful.

But you always have been.

Prettiest goddamn thing he’s ever seen.

He bites harder, when he’s wounded.

No more than a cornered animal. But the anger - it takes a hold on him. Leaving him to soften, when there’s a hand he knows.

Making words slip from him that he’d tuck inside, on a different day.

“I do it for you, blossom.” It comes out quiet, in the darkened room, “You know that right?”

You shift against his shoulder. Head cradled against his chest, ear pressed to his heart.

“We do it for Charles,” You breathe, half-asleep. Fingers splaying across his sternum, tracing against the dark whorls of hair.

His own brush over petals. Used to help pluck them from you, after stolen moments during missions. Would love the way your face screwed up - a soft veil of embarrassment washing over you. His own lips pulled in a smug smile, as he had tucked one behind you ear.

Logan huffs, the sound low. Almost a laugh.

“I keep going for you.”

His heart would keep beating for a long time, but he thinks it would stop if yours did.

You press yourself tighter against him. It’s mumbled against his skin, “Keep going for you, too.”

There’s salt against his skin, tears you can’t afford to shed. Silent, as the stars creep higher in the sky above you.

Should be out driving, right now. Can’t bring himself to leave.

So he holds you, until your breathing slows. Until the tension eases once again, sleep taking you.

You never were afraid of him. Only for him.

Never hesitated to crawl into bed beside him, even with his nightmares. Can still remember your insisting.

Clip the stem of the flower, and the bloom will fade. Skewer it though, and it will grow around it - oozing golden ichor until it heals.

It's supposed to be a comfort.

But Logan doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s afraid that he plucked you from the earth, long ago.

You just haven’t realized it yet.

Logan finds you in the garden.

Charles is out with you today. Tucked beneath the afternoon shadows of the smelting plant. He would laugh - does laugh - at your excuse of a garden. It pales in comparison to the mansion. The old ivy that crawled up the walls, across the sprawling grounds.

You laugh with him, because - what else is there to be done?

The sound dies, as the limo comes back early. A hand shades your eyes, as he steps out.

Still weary, though not as much as yesterday. Worry set in the lines around his eyes the grit of his jaw.

The reason revealed, when he steps to the side. A girl, stumbling out of the back seat of the limo.

Her eyes are feral, and there’s something so familiar about her that it steals your breath.

“Crescere.” Charles breathes - more lucid than you’ve seen him in days, “That is Laura. She’s the mutant I told you about. The one we have to help get to Eden.”

And for a moment, he’s the Charles he was a decade ago. The one you would have followed to the end.

Something blooms in your chest, at the sight of the girl.

The mutant, when there hasn’t been a new one in so long. A tight knot unfurling inside you, and it feels like a new beginning.

It feels like hope.

and then they all left to find Eden together and nothing bad ever happened again! 😌💖 I'm heading back to Trouble Will Find Me and Come On And Show Me after this, just was struck with this idea and wanted to explore it! thanks so much for reading!!

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett #james logan howlett x reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x f!reader #old man logan

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peachypixelpop · 3 months ago

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Paws and Claws

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x curvyf!reader | smut | 6k

SUMMARY | Your dog Bert accidentally knocks up Dogpool which leads to a meet cute with an angry Wolverine.

WARNINGS | Meet cute (but make it intense) kinda enemies, to friends to lovers, mutual yearning, daddy wolverine, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humour, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, piv s*x, what refractory period? we die like men, You know he talks you through it.

RATING | Explicit

NOTES | Okay so this is my first ever Tumblr spicy oneshot, soooo thoughts and feedback are so welcome. Enjoy my loves <3

“You,” he snarled, teeth bared as he thrust what could only be described as a pot-bellied gremlin toward your face.

“Me?” you splutter, glancing between the feral-looking man in front of you and the small creature he held in his hands.

“Yeah! You’ve got some audacity coming back here after what you’ve done,” he spat, gesturing around the park while transferring the small creature to his large bicep, cradling it against his impressively muscular chest.

The ‘here’ he was referring to was your local park, currently hosting its weekly ‘Social Snout Society.’ You had moved for work, and the event seemed like a great way to meet fellow dog owners.

And in a way, it had. You’d made friends with. many of the regulars and had grown your social circle considerably. There was the sweet young couple who kept trying to set you up with their ‘friend,’ and the lovely old lady, Barbara, who always offered your dog peanut butter-filled treats.

But then, there was him. The one person you couldn’t quite figure out. He was always standing off to the side, averse to socialising, with his thick arms crossed over a plaid shirt as he watched the dogs run around. There was something about his presence—an air of brooding mystery—that made it hard to ignore him. You’d caught yourself staring a few times—how could you not? He was handsome in a rugged, roguish Clint Eastwood sort of way. But more than that, he was The Wolverine. Yes, that Wolverine—the legendary superhero from the X-Men who fought bad guys and saved the world.

Each time he caught you looking, you quickly glanced away, your face turning a brilliant shade of red as you desperately tried to distract yourself by calling your dog over.

You had pegged him as the type who would own a large, intimidating dog—a mastiff, a rottweiler, or maybe a German shepherd. So, when the social was winding down and you saw a tiny Pugese bounding over to him, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The little dog, all stubby legs and wrinkled face, leaped into the gruff man’s arms with surprising agility. Its long tongue lolled out, swiping affectionately at his mutton chops as he caught it effortlessly. The sight of this fierce-looking man cradling such a small, adorable dog was almost too much to process, and you had to stifle a laugh at the unexpected contrast.

“What’s going on?” you finally manage to ask, your voice shaky as you look at the small creature nestled against his chest.

“Listen, bub, this clueless act ain’t gonna cut it with me. You can see what you’ve done,” he said, his voice rough like gravel. He adjusted his grip on the little dog, gently supporting its neck and bum as he sat it up slightly. You leaned in, taking in the wide brown eyes that blinked up at you as the dog gave a quick yawn, shifting in the man’s arms. Its little red leather outfit was twisted slightly around its body, looking snugger than usual.

“This—” he growled, nodding toward the Pugese, “is Mary. And thanks to your sausage, she’s gonna have puppies!”

You blink in confusion. “My—wait, Bert? You’re talking about Bert?”

“Who else?” he huffed, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Your daschund knocked up my dog!”

As if summoned, Bert appeared between your legs, huffing loudly from his sprint back from Barbara, a smudge of peanut butter on his lips. He looked up at you and the angry man with a proud expression, oblivious to the chaos he had caused.

“Bert?” you repeat incredulously, trying to process the information. “But… but I swear he’s been fixed!”

“Yeah, well, he figured it out somehow,” the man muttered, still fuming. “Found out today at the vet—Mary’s knocked up, thanks to him”

You glanced at the small dog again and noticed how her little pot belly did seem more rotund than usual. She was happily wagging her curly tail, completely unaware of the drama unfolding.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, covering your mouth as you look at the little Pugese. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

“Neither did I!” he retorts, though his tone softens slightly as he sees the genuine surprise and concern in your eyes. “I mean, Mary is the last dog I’d expect to end up pregnant. She’s never even shown interest in other dogs.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you. Of all the things I expected today, getting chewed out by a grumpy, muscle-bound guy over a pregnant dog wasn’t one of them.

“How do you even know it was him? There are hundreds of dogs around here”

He huffed as if appalled you would even ask that.

“How could it not be him, I’ve seen him - sniffing around her” he spat.

You side eyed Bert who had the audacity to flop on his back for a belly rub. It sounded exactly like him to your dismay.

“I honestly don’t know what to say except sorry” you finally manage wincing as Bert let out a long whine at being ignored.

“Just… keep an eye on your little Casanova,” he grumbled, rubbing Mary’s head. “We’re in this together now, whether we like it or not.”

“I really am sorry,” you say, reaching down to scoop up Bert, who was sniffing at the man’s shoes. Holding his little sausage body in one hand, you thrust a hand forward toward the man. “I’m Y/N. You’ve met Bert.”

The man eyed your hand for a second before clasping it in his own large one. “Logan,” he spoke, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Listen, don’t worry. Bert won’t be an absent father. I’ll step up—I mean, he’ll step up—well, I suppose we’ll be there for you.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Mary, of course. Listen, I’m a girls’ girl, and the last thing I would do is—” You freeze as you realise you’re still gripping Logan’s large hand and shaking it like you’re sealing the most important business deal of your life. Quickly releasing his hand as if it were on fire, you take a step back and stare at the grass in embarrassment.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up and tried not to get lost in his warm brown eyes. “Listen, can you give me your number or something so you can keep me updated?” You asked, shifting Bert on your arm.

“I don’t have a phone,” he said awkwardly.

“Right,” you responded, feeling mortified. It seemed clear he wanted nothing to do with you.

“Okay, well, I’ll be around if you need me,” you said dejectedly. With twenty minutes left of the social, you just wanted to escape the awkwardness.

Before he could respond, you turned away and left the park, your ears burning red with embarrassment as Bert gently gnawed at your fingers.

You didn’t see Logan again, a couple of weeks had passed since the man had confronted you about Bert’s promiscuous behaviour so you were surprised to find a bright pink envelope on your floor when you arrived home from work.

🎉🐶 PAW-TEE ALERT! 🐶🎉 Hey there, Fur-tastic Friends! Guess what time it is? It’s time to celebrate the most adorable, waggliest, and undeniably cutest thing in the universe—PUPPIES! Yep, you heard me right. Wade is throwing the ultimate Puppy Shower and you’re on the VIP list. 🎉 Come dressed in your finest puppy-themed attire or don’t—either way, you’ll look fetching! 🐾 Please bring a treat for Mary, our star-of-the-show, and no, we’re not talking about your grandma’s fruitcake. 🍪 If you can’t make it, don’t worry. I’ll be sure to send you a selfie of me and Logan covered in puppy slobber. 📸 RSVP: Hit me up with your best bark or, if you’re feeling fancy, just send a text to [Contact Information Here]. Either way, let me know if you’re coming so we can prepare an appropriately excessive amount of dog treats and possibly a few questionable dog costumes. Pawsitively Excited, Wade & Logan xoxoxo P.S. If you think this is just a ploy to get free snacks and a chance to see Logan out of his grumpy shell, you might be right. But you’ll also be helping celebrate the imminent arrival of tiny, adorable puppies!

“Wade?” You murmured, running your finger over the red glitter hearts on the page. It made sense why Logan wasn’t single; he was undeniably gorgeous. But your brows furrowed as you tried to recall whether you had given Logan your address.

Glancing at Bert, who was sitting in front of his empty bowl and giving you a reproachful look, you sighed. “Time to step up, buddy.” You spoke to Bert, who huffed slightly in agreement and continued to paw at his dish.

When you arrived at Wade’s flat, you were surprised to realise it was only a few streets away from your own place. Bert whined softly as you lingered outside the door, feeling the weight of nerves flutter in your stomach. You could hear voices and music drifting from inside. Glancing down at your dog, you took a deep breath before rapping your knuckles on the door.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing a tall man covered in a patchwork of scars. His expression was animated, and before you could say anything, he flashed a blinding smile.

“You must be Y/N! Come in, come in!” he greeted, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he ushered you and Bert inside.

“Thanks,” you replied, stepping into the cosy flat and carefully setting your wet umbrella near a pile of shoes and coats. Wade gave you a friendly hug as you shrugged off your raincoat, leaving you momentarily startled.

“It’s great to finally meet you!” Wade said, his tone warm and welcoming.

“You too! And, er, sorry again about the whole… getting your dog pregnant,” you replied, feeling a bit awkward.

“Pshhh, don’t worry about it! Our little Puppins is 90% G-spot, it was bound to happen sooner or later, the little tease,” Wade jokes, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Oh-oka—wait, Puppins?” you asked, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire conversation.

“Yeah, Mary—Mary Puppins,” Wade clarified with a wide grin, clearly proud of the clever name.

“Ah, now Bert’s name is starting to make sense,” you mused, the pieces finally clicking together in your mind.

“Yep, it’s very on-brand,” Wade replied, a mischievous glint in his eye as he let his thoughts wander for a moment. He shook his head slightly, snapping back to the present. “Anyway,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness, “where is our little absent father?”

You glanced down, spotting Bert near your feet, his little tail wagging as if he understood that the spotlight was now on him. Bending down, you scooped up the dachshund, who was proudly sporting a tiny yellow bow tie, and handed him over to Wade.

“There he is!” Wade cooed, holding Bert up like a prized possession. “Someone went out for milk these past two weeks, huh? Poor Wolvy has been looking for your mama,” he added with a wink, turning to lead you both into the lounge.

Wade marched into the room, lifting Bert high above his head in a dramatic gesture. “Everyone, I present to you the baby daddy!” Wade declared with flair, holding Bert up like Simba in The Lion King. The room erupted in laughter and applause as the small group gathered around, showering Bert with attention and affection.

But then your attention shifted to your usual target, who was brooding near the kitchen, lingering near some red velvet cupcakes. You moved closer, your heart pounding as you took in his form that seemed to take up most of the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you asked, reaching past him to grab a cupcake. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, alright. How’s it going with you?” he replied, his voice low and gravelly.

“Good, great actually. Bert hasn’t gotten any other dogs pregnant,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“That’s good,” Logan replied, his tone a bit flat.

“You know what blokes are like, only thinking of one thing,” you blurted out without thinking, immediately regretting the words as they left your mouth.

Logan raised a brow at you, his expression unreadable. “That right?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. To avoid saying anything else, you took a bite out of the cupcake. The texture was unexpectedly tough, and you found yourself chewing more vigorously than you’d anticipated.

Logan’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes narrowing slightly. After a moment, he reached out and gently wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“There was some icing,” he murmured, his voice suddenly softer, more of a rumble than his usual biting growl.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as your heart pounded in your chest.

He held your gaze a moment longer, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, that’s for dogs, right?”

Your eyes widened in horror as you looked down at the half-eaten cupcake in your hand. “What?”

“Wade’s idea of a joke,” Logan explained, clearly amused by your reaction. “He put them out with the regular food to mess with people.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment. “Oh my god…” you whispered, just before gagging as the aftertaste of beef hit your tongue. “Oh no, that’s disgusting!” you spluttered, wiping your mouth furiously as you tried to rid yourself of the flavour.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one he’s tricked,” Logan said, his smirk widening into a grin. You were momentarily taken aback, surprised by how the smile transformed his face, softening his usual stern expression and making him look years younger.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you as your cheeks flushed a tomato hue.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one he’s tricked,” Logan said, his smirk widening into a genuine grin that took you by surprise. The smile lit up his face, making him look years younger, almost boyish.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you as your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “Well, I guess it’s fitting. Bert and I are just full of surprises.”

“Seems that way,” Logan replied, his tone now more relaxed, a subtle hint of flirtation lacing his words. His eyes held yours, and for a brief moment, the air between you felt charged with an unspoken connection.

“Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” he grumbled, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

“Maybe not,” you teased back, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach. The intensity of his gaze made it hard to think straight, and you wondered if he could hear your heart racing.

Logan’s nostrils flared slightly, as if he were picking up on the tension between you. But before anything more could happen, Wade’s voice broke the moment.

“Ooh, this looks all cosy, doesn’t it, Wolvy?” Wade chirped smugly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he took in the lack of space between the two of you.

“Fuck off,” Logan muttered, his jaw clenching as he shot Wade a glare.

“Spicy, this one isn’t he? Muy, muy caliente,” Wade ribbed, his grin widening as he revelled in the discomfort he was causing.

You glanced down to see Logan clenching his whisky glass tightly, a small hairline crack forming in the glass, his expression one of barely contained irritation.

“Could you pass me the little tux behind you?” Wade asked, clearly enjoying himself.

Logan turned around quickly, grabbed the small tux, and tossed it at the scarred man without a word.

“Thanks, Peanut,” Wade winked before chasing after Bert with a mischievous glint in his eye.

As you watched Wade prance off, you noticed the pained expression on Logan’s face. Trying to smooth over the situation, you decided to make conversation.

“So… how long have you two been together?” you asked, your tone light but genuinely curious.

Logan, who had just taken a swig of his whisky nearly choked, sputtering slightly as he wiped away the spilled liquid with a large hand. “What?” he spat, clearly taken aback.

You blinked slowly, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment. “Oh, sorry—I shouldn’t have presumed.”

“Listen, we aren’t together,” Logan clarified, his voice firm, though there was a hint of something more beneath the surface.

“Oh… right,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “Sorry, I just… assumed.”

Logan shook his head, exhaling out of his nose “We just live together while I look for a new place.”

“Got it,” you replied, feeling both relieved and a little silly for jumping to conclusions. The tension between you eased slightly, though you couldn’t help but notice the way Logan’s gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than necessary.

You were soon swept into a whirlwind of party games organised by Wade, each one more spirited than the last. During the festivities, you met their third roommate, known as "Blind Al," though you quickly insisted on simply calling her Al. You chatted to their other friends too, laughing at some of their wild stories until your stomach got a stitch and your jaw ached.

As the evening wore on, the sky outside grew darker and darker, the stars twinkling faintly in the chilly night air. Feeling the onset of sleepiness, you decided it was time to head home. Logan, having observed your growing fatigue, volunteered to walk you back. At first, you insisted it wasn’t necessary, pointing out that you had Bert with you.

Logan, however, let out a dismissive snort at the sight of your chunky dachshund, who was currently curled up and snoozing with half his face buried in a muffin. “Seriously, you’re letting this guy be your bodyguard?” Logan remarked with a smirk.

You sighed at the sight of Bert’s icing coated snout and, realising Logan’s offer was genuine, you conceded. “Alright, if you insist.”

With that, you both left the warm, lively flat, stepping out into the crisp night air as Logan guided you through the quiet streets toward your home. The walk was peaceful, the cool night air brushing against your skin, and the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound in the quiet neighbourhood.

When you reached your door, you lingered for a moment, cracking it open just enough for Bert to scamper inside and head straight to his bed, exhausted from the day’s excitement.

“Thanks for today. I really like your friends,” you said with a grin, noticing the unexpected softness in Logan’s eyes—a stark contrast to your initial meeting.

“Just my friends, huh?” he teased, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh yes, I suppose Mary is lovely too,” you teased back, looking up at him with a soft smile. The warmth between you was palpable, his large frame nearly filling your small hallway, making the space feel even more intimate. You could hear the faint buzz of your neighbours’ TV through the walls, a reminder of the world continuing on around you, yet in this moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Logan’s gaze held yours for a beat longer, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a fleeting second before he straightened up, breaking the tension just enough to breathe again. “Get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly rough. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “Goodnight, Logan.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice softening.

As he turned to leave, you felt a sudden tug in your chest, an impulse you couldn't quite suppress. Before you knew it, you were calling out to him.

"Logan, wait."

He stopped and turned back to face you, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension that had been simmering all evening. You took a small step closer, closing the gap between you.

"Today was... nice," you said, your voice almost a whisper now, "and I don’t really want it to end."

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, the playful banter from earlier replaced by something much more intense. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space of your hallway. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of him—something warm and earthy—filling your senses.

“It doesn’t have to,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. Without thinking, you reached up, your fingers lightly brushing against the stubble on his jaw. Logan’s breath caught at the touch, his eyes never leaving yours.

In that instant, the tension snapped. Logan closed the distance between you in one swift motion, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, as if he had been holding himself back. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, your heart racing as you responded with equal fervour.

The world around you blurred as all your senses focused on the feel of his lips, the strength of his arms around you, the roughness of his stubble against your skin. It was intoxicating, the way he kissed you—like he was claiming you, yet with a surprising gentleness that made your knees go weak.

You felt the arms round your waist pull you closer to his solid body, causing you to whimper and him to slip a tongue gently into your mouth.

You broke apart just enough to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other as you both struggled to steady your breathing. Logan’s hands were still on your waist, his grip firm yet comforting, grounding you as you struggled to level your breathing.

“Come inside,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your hand slid from his jaw to rest against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

Logan hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read what you truly wanted. Whatever he saw there must have reassured him because he nodded slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, almost teasing smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

You stepped back, pulling him gently inside your flat, closing the door behind him. The click of the lock sounded louder in the quiet of your home. The cosiness of the small space wrapped around you both, the warmth and intimacy of it only heightening the tension that hummed between you.

You took his hand, guiding him deeper into the flat, past the soft glowing lamps outside and Bert who was already snoring softly in his bed, oblivious to the charged atmosphere filling the room.

Logan’s gaze was intense as he followed you, his hand warm and reassuring in yours. When you reached your bedroom, you turned to face him again, your heart in your throat as you searched his face, wondering if this was really happening.

Logan’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sent another shiver through you. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, slower this time, savouring each moment. Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, the feel of his solid frame against yours grounding you even as your head spun.

Without breaking the kiss, Logan’s hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him as he walked you backward toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding with anticipation and need, the heat between you building with every passing second.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you sank down onto the duvet, pulling Logan with you. He followed without hesitation, his body covering yours as you both tumbled onto the bed, the kiss never breaking, never slowing.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, marvelling at the feel of him—so strong, so present, so overwhelmingly real. Logan groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a thrill through you as his hands began to explore, tracing the curves of your body as if committing them to memory.

You arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he kissed his way down your neck, his stubble grazing your skin in the most delicious way. The sensation was electrifying as you gulped back another whimper as his tongue slipped back into your mouth, tasting the whisky on his lips.

As he slowly begins to undress you, You feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability as he unzips your last article of clothing and pulls your skirt down. Sensing you freezing he stops.

“Hey, where did you go bub?” He whispers, pulling back to meet your eyes.

“It’s just, er, been a while and I've put on a bit of weight recently” you mumbled, unable to hold his gaze.

Logan paused, his hands gently resting on your hips as he looked at you, his brow furrowing with concern. The intensity of the moment faded slightly as he took in your words, understanding the vulnerability you were feeling. He tilted your chin up softly, urging you to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that surprised you. “You don’t have to hide from me. You’re beautiful, just the way you are.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, the sincerity in his words sinking in. It had been so long since anyone had looked at you like this, let alone made you feel beautiful. Logan’s eyes were full of warmth, no judgement or hesitation, just blown pupils and an open gaze that made your chest tighten and your panties soak.

He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light. “You’re perfect, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through you. “Every inch of you.”

His words were like a balm, easing the anxiety that had been bubbling beneath the surface. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his hands held you with such care.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, grounding you in the moment. You felt the tension in your body slowly melt away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest, as your heart started to race with excitement rather than fear.

You took a deep breath, letting the anxiety flow out with the exhale, and nodded slightly. “I just… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way.”

Logan’s expression softened further, his gaze never leaving yours. “I get that,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “But you don’t have to worry, not with me. I’m here, and I see you. All of you.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His hands moved with reverence, as if he was rediscovering every part of you, appreciating each touch, each breath, as if it was a gift.

Logan pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression one of quiet reverence. “You’re beautiful, Y/N, but if you want to stop I will respect that, what do you want?”

“No I want this, I want you Logan.” You whispered, biting your lip.

He leaned forward to kiss you again before pulling away your skirt and panties. He groaned at the sight of you glistening and swollen. “God you are incredible sweetheart” he groaned before leaning down.

“I wha-” You started before cutting yourself with a loud moan as he swiped over your clit.

He drank from you like a man without water. The silence of the room is broken by the sound of his slurping and suckling. “I’ve been smelling you for weeks and you taste even sweeter than I imagined’ he whispered against you.

Unable to answer him you continued to pant as he greedily ate you out. Grunting like an animal, his oral could only be described as animalistic as he pushed you towards that high. It was only when he added two thick fingers did you begin to wail as the stimulation overwhelmed you.

“That’s it sweetheart, I know, it’s okay, let go for me” He grunted as he continued to eat you out, the prickle of his beard between your thick thighs adding to the sensations as he rubbed his face into your pussy.

When he crooked his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion that hit that sweet spongy spot inside of you. Something snaps inside as you whimper his name and come panting and wiggling on his face.

As you came back to yourself you let out a whimper as you saw him smugly looking at you from between your thighs. Slowly rubbing you as you came down from your high.

Standing up, you have to resist the urge to whine at the lack of fullness you feel and spy him suck his glistening fingers. As Logan swiftly removed his clothes, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his body was beautiful, all toned muscle and solid mass, every muscle defined and glistening under the soft light. The intensity in his eyes never wavered as he tossed his shirt aside, revealing the expanse of his toned chest.

He moved with purpose, crawling onto the bed towards you like a predator closing in on its prey, his movements slow and deliberate, each one making your pulse race. The heat between you was palpable, electrifying the air as he inched closer, his gaze locking onto yours with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the sheer magnetism of his presence drawing you in, making you feel both excited and slightly nervous.

When he finally reached you, his large hands framed your face as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both fierce and gentle, full of the passion you had felt building between you all night.

“I’m on the pill” You blurted out as he pulled back and you watched as his pupils dilated wider.

“You sure bub?” he questioned.

You nodded fervently as a surge of confidence rushed through you and you pushed him back onto the mattress so you could climb on top of him. It really was unfair, he made it look so natural as he laid back on the duvet like a modern day adonis.

Logan cursed when you sank on top of him. It took a few moments for you to be fully seated. When you were, you took a slow and deep breath as you felt his entire length inside of you. You had never felt so full.

You wiggled your hips slightly as you tested the length of him inside you and his hands shot out to grip your soft hips.

“Just a second darlin’” He growled, his face looked strained as he held you in place.

“If i’m too heavy we can turn over” You spoke shyly conscious of how he seemed to grip tightly at your hips.

He chuckled as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth “No, No, It’s not that darlin’ you’re just so tight” He muttered before starting to thrust at you.

You bit back a moan as you rode him. Large hands guiding you up and down as you bounced up and down, his cock rearranging your insides to make room for him, all of him.

Leaning forward he took one of your nipples in his mouth and gently nibbled and sucked on it before moving on to the other one. You were unsure of how much time had passed but you soon found yourself coming on his cock.

Unlatching from your nipple his hands went to your ass, taking over moving you as you came down from your high. “That’s it, such a good girl taking all of me” he rumbled before flipping you over and pushing your knees back to your chest.

In this position he felt even deeper inside of you, stretching you out in the most delicious way and nudging the spongy wall of your cervix. “Logan” you whimpered as you pulled him forward to kiss his lips as he lazily thrust into you stoking the fire in your stomach again. Wrapping your ankles above the curve of his ass you dreamily sighed into his mouth as the taste of whisky hit your tongue.

Your skin was damp with sweat as you clung to him desperately as his thrusts built up again.

“Think you can give me another one darlin’?” he questioned after he broke away from your lips and started kissing down your neck nibbling as he went.

At this point you were on fire, legs numb and eyes rolling back into your head. You felt like he had taken everything from you, yet, as his fingers rubbed over your clit a spark shot through you as you keenly lifted your hips upwards to his barraging cock.

“That’s a good girl, gonna fill you up” He grunted, taking the hand that wasn’t rubbing your clit and pressing down on your abdomen to make the space inside you even tighter.

“Logan, I’m close” You whimpered at the stimulation. The sounds of his animalistic grunts and squelching filled the quiet room.

“That’s it darlin’ come all over this cock for me” he growled as you felt the air get stolen from your lungs as you spasmed around him, muscles pulling him in as deep as possible. Hips stuttering, Logan followed you into your release pumping you full of his thick spend. You could feel the heat of it filling you up as some of it leaked out of the sides of his cock, your body simply incapable of holding the sheer volume of it.

Rolling to the side he pulled you with him to lay on his chest as his cock stayed nestled deep inside of you twitching occasionally with the odd spurt, not quite finished filling you up. You hummed gently against his chest as his arms circled around you, warm and safe.

"You okay, bub?" Logan grumbled softly, his deep voice carrying a warmth that sent a wave of comfort through you. He gently smoothed a few stray strands of hair back from your face, his touch tender against your skin. You sighed happily, nestling into the solid warmth of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

Tilting your head up to meet his gaze, you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m so glad Bert knocked up your dog,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips. The absurdity of the situation, which had once felt mad, now seemed like the best thing that had ever happened.

Logan’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, who would've thought?" he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a rare, genuine smile. He reached down, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek.

You shifted slightly and froze. Eyes widening in realisation at what was happening.

“Logan…are you still?”

“Let’s hit number four” he growled.

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tossawary · 3 months ago

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It's so funny that Palpatine is also a skilled lightsaber duelist and fighter, enough to take on 4 Jedi masters / war veterans at once and easily kill 3 of them (everyone except Mace Windu almost immediately gets wasted), and then to go on to beat Yoda too later. Like, it's funny to think about the logistics of it all. Who exactly has Palpatine been practicing with here? How often has he been hitting the gym in the past 15 or so years?

Up until that point in "Revenge of the Sith", it looks like Palpatine's main skill is manipulation. He doesn't really look like he's sunk a lot of points into melee combat. Supposedly, he trained Darth Maul, but Maul got wrecked by Obi-Wan Kenobi as a padawan and has been "dead" for over a decade by the time Palpatine is confronted by the Jedi and suddenly opens a can of whoop ass. Dooku is a skilled duelist, sure, but Dooku has been running the other side of the war, so he's not sneaking into Coruscant on a regular basis to be Palpatine's evil gym buddy.

Also, when is Palpatine finding the TIME to train that fiercely? He has a desk job! He has TWO desk jobs! He's the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and also secretly running both sides of the war, all to slowly build up his Galactic Empire. His schedule must be packed. His time management skills are the real legendary dark powers here. He has to regularly be going straight from meetings with Republic Senators and the Jedi Council into video calls with General Grievous and the Trade Federation. Where on his calendar is this man putting his evil workouts where he waves around a red lightsaber?

I really don't like the idea that Palpatine is just so formidable in the Force that he doesn't ever have to worry about spaceships falling from orbit or keeping in shape. He's definitely not a normal guy, but he is also just a guy, given that Darth Vader eventually throws him off a Death Star bridge to kill him (temporarily, if we're going by the sequel trilogy, which I... don't). I understand that at this point in time, Palpatine is possibly super-boosted by the Dark Side thanks to the sheer weight of misery he's inflicted on the galaxy thanks to the war, so he's feeling GREAT, strong and fast and ready to rumble, but I don't think pure power in the Force alone should necessarily translate to staying flexible despite your desk job and having refined sword skills?

So, I guess I have to assume that Palpatine has a collection of personal dueling droids somewhere that regularly get wrecked by a lightsaber or something? Is there a gym maintenance droid somewhere rebuilding these other droids and chugging happily along learning every week (it gets its memory wiped on a daily basis) that the Supreme Chancellor secretly likes to play with lightsabers like a Jedi LARPer? Not an uncommon hobby! There are fan conventions for that!

#tossawary star wars #palpatine #spoilers #character death

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sweetiecutie · 11 months ago

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Hi!

I fell in love with ur underbedmonster!simon au!

And I am sure everybody else fell in love with it.

Can we get some more stories with monster simon? If it's no problem, of course :)))

Love your work btw <33

A/n: sure you can, I think that this trope is my new obsession🫣☺️

Warnings: smut, mdni, possessiveness, monsterfucking, tentacle fucking

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4

Underbed monster! Simon who was slightly startled by such sudden change in your aura - once sugary sweet and syrupy turned into bitter and pungent, causing creature to sputter and hiss begrudgingly at the taste, his ears (or whatever that was that he had) straining to hear any words coming from you that could explain this drastic shift in your emotions.

Underbed monster! Simon who listened attentively as you spoke on the phone with your best friend, choking on your own tears and sobs as you told them how you broke up with your now ex boyfriend, about the ugly fight you had, how he called you numerous names, shattering your heart in million pieces just with his cruel words.

Underbed monster! Simon who felt rage simmering somewhere deep within him. How dare that pathetic scumbag treat you like that!? Yes, Ghost did torture you with horrible nightmares quite a few dozens times, but you were his human, his to scare, his to taunt, his to fuck, no one else’s. He felt possessive and angry, he wanted to soothe your poor little heart, to make all the pain go away so you could feed him more and more of that honey-like energy that your pleasure exuded.

Underbed monster! Simon who finally decided to take matters into his own hands after keeping a close eye on you when your state didn’t seem to get any better. Ghost sneaked out some of the sweets from kitchen to your bedroom so you had something to munch on, making you confused as to how those candies seemed to magically appear on your bedside. Simon tried keeping the house tidy and clean for you in hopes that it’ll make you get better soon, he even did your laundry once, causing you to freak out at the sight of your clothes, freshly washed and still damp, hanging off the rope to dry out.

Underbed monster! Simon couldn’t be more happier, watching your attention finally shift from your shithead ex to him. Simon was purposefully lurking right in the corner of your vision, making his presence in the house way more obvious. He watched with fierce amusement as you grabbed the sharpest knife from the kitchen, inspecting every nook and cranny of the house, not finding any signs of intrusion or anything that could’ve given a clue about another person’s presence, scrunching up your pretty eyebrows in confusion.

Underbed monster! Simon who fully revealed himself for the first time in your dream, standing in his full glory in front of small scared you, your breathing quickening in your sleep as you inspected his tall dark form, two red eyes glaring down at you from above. You felt paralysed as you watched this creature raise its smokey limb that slightly resembled human arm, cold tentacle fingers brushing your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear affectionately. And all of the sudden all fear and anxiety vanished, leaving place for curiosity and amazement as you studied monster’s features closer, not feeling threatened nor endangered by him. Slowly its mouth opened - even blacker that the rest of him, his voice clear and lucid, ringing right inside of your head “Wake up”

Your eyes snapped open - you were laying in your bed still, crumpled sheets dug into your back unpleasantly but you couldn’t care less as you stared straight into those crimson orbs, cold tentacles slithering up and down your sides, wrapping tighter around your limbs, immobilising you completely. Underbed monster! Simon just purred audibly at your obedience and lack of resistance, branching a few more extremities to slip under the hem of your pyjama top and wrap around your nipples, tugging and tweaking on them softly.

Underbed monster! Simon who growled satisfactorily at the small wet patch that started forming on your panties, slowly rubbing your sweet pussy while applying more and more pressure to his touch, watching you writhe and whine underneath him, begging for more.

Underbed monster! Simon who purred as he slipped a thick tentacle past the hem of your panties, stuffing your fluttering cunny so full of himself, finally that rich taste of your pleasure simmered right through him, filling his ghastly body with strength and energy he lacked all this time you were depressed. Newfound strength just nagged him into fucking you faster and harder, twisting out your nipples and rubbing your clit rapidly, all while forcing his thick tentacles in and out of your leaking cunt, making you scream and tremble in his inescapable grasp as fourth orgasm rippled through your weakened body, pure pleasure surging through your veins, hogging up your mind and making you incapable of thinking.

Underbed monster! Simon who only let you go when first sun rays peaked in through bedroom’s window, leaving you a fucked-out yet blissful mess, pinching you on your cheek affectionately before slipping under your mattress, curling up like a huge lazy cat and falling asleep, full of your delicious pleasure.

And even hours later as you peeked under your bed you could see a huge black spot there, still and unmoving; and if you listened closely enough you could hear your underbed monster purr softly in its sleep, happy and properly nourished.

That’s quite a pet that you have now, eh?

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, don’t be shy to give writers some love! Requests are open, so send me some stuff<3

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sanguineterrain · 6 months ago

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Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like ☝️ hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken

this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!

clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore 🥰

****

Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.

The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.

You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.

You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.

"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.

A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.

The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.

You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.

"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.

You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.

Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.

And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.

"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Are–are you okay?"

You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."

He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."

You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"

Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.

"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."

Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.

"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."

Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."

Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.

"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."

Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.

"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."

"Oh. Thank you."

You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.

He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.

"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."

"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.

"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."

Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.

"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I just—"

You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.

"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"

He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.

Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.

#clark kent x reader #superman x reader #superman x you #clark kent x you #clark kent imagine #superman imagine #clark kent fanfiction #superman fanfiction #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc x you #inbox #blurb

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hyunniesgirl · 8 months ago

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Can I be your favorite?

Pairing: Lee know x reader

Genre: smut, fluff

Summary: Lee Minho is unreachable, someone you can only just dream of being with. Until one day, you enter the wrong door at a party and ends up with him inviting you to sit on his lap.

Part 2

THIS CONTENT IS +18 ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: corruption kink, protected piv, fingering, Minho is kinda possessive.

You're okay with not being popular, it's not like you'll be like that forever, it's just college and in a few years everything will be forgotten so you just keep living your life, going to your classes and hanging out with your best friend.

The only time you ever wish you were popular, though, is when you see him. Lee Minho. The guy of your dreams. He's vice president of the greatest fraternity on campus, so everyone knows him.

Lee Minho is someone mysterious, no one knows much about him other than that he changes girlfriends faster than he changes clothes. So more than half of the girls in this university already had their heart broken by him.

That doesn't make you like him less though, it's not like something will ever happen between you two so a little crush on him is not something to worry about, even more so when he doesn't even know about your existence.

Your best friend, Jihyo is the opposite of you, she likes partying and she always tries to drag you to one of her nights out. That's how you ended up in the situation you're in right now. Alone in the kitchen of a frat house, listening to a drunk guy teaching you about your own major, while sipping on a drink you're not even sure about the contents.

You watch as a group of people play beer pong on the counter in the middle of the kitchen, everyone is sweating and there's alcohol being spilled all over the place. You're at a safe distance but you pity the person who's going to clean this up later on.

You have no idea where Jihyo went, she told you she was going to the bathroom half an hour ago and never came back. You're tired of hearing this guy too, he's talking about first year contents when you're already in your third year.

“That's so interesting”, you smile at him, “but I have to go find my friend now”, you don't let him say a word, quickly sneaking away from the kitchen.

You look around, trying to find your best friend, but she's nowhere to be seen. Maybe she's on the second floor, you ask people and they tell you exactly where the bathroom is. However, you shouldn't be so quick as to trust drunk people.

Because when you open the door people pointed out as the bathroom, you find a room with red lights brightening the dark space.

There's a bed in the middle of the room and in that bed there's a couple and that couple happens to be Lee Minho and someone you have no idea who it is. They are luckily not in a compromising position, not making out or something worse. She's just sitting on his lap, having her giggles stopped by the bright light that comes from the door when you open it.

Your eyes grow wide when Minho looks at you with his fierce unfriendly eyes.

“Hm- I'm- sorry, I thought this was the bathroom”, you smile sheepishly, fidgeting on your feet.

Minho looks at you up and down and you swear you can see a smirk forming on his lips, but you're not sure since the light is not great.

“I guess the sign with my name on the wall is not very visible”, he points out dryly, making your face turn red. Great, that's great. Nice way to be humiliated by your crush, y/n.

“I apologize, I really didn't see it”, you say again. You should already have gotten out of there but for some reason it seems that your feet are stuck on the ground.

“Honey, why don't you go downstairs, I'll talk to you later”, Minho says to the girl on his lap, making her groan in frustration. She gets up, angrily walking past you. “You should close the door if you're going to stay”, he tells you and your feet finally move just enough to be able to close the door with you still inside.

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” You ask like an idiot.

“I live here”, he says obviously, “but I don't think you're still looking for the bathroom”, he grins, seeing you lick your lips. “Why don't you come and take a seat?”

Your legs move on it's own once more, giving slow unsure steps in his direction. You sit on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully as he leans back, supporting his upper body on his hands, arms spread on the mattress.

He stares at you, surprised. Minho chuckles, shaking his head.

“That's not what I was talking about”, he tells you, landing his hand on his thigh and tapping there. “Why don't you try sitting here?” He asks.

You feel your whole body turning hot, why is he asking for you to sit on his lap?

“I-I should get going”, you stand up fast, but before you can walk away he takes a deep breath.

“Are you sure that's what you want?” Minho tilts his head, waiting for your answer.

No, that's not what you want. You really, really want to sit on his lap and let him do anything he wants with you. So you give in to your desires, stepping closer to him and bending down to sit on his thigh.

He bites on his bottom lip, watching you fidgeting and trying to get comfortable. By the way you're stiff, it's obvious you have never done this before and that gets him excited.

He corrects his posture, sitting with his chest close to you. One of his hands lands on your left thigh and the other goes to your waist.

Minho doesn't need to waste another second to find out that he likes you. You're just his type, shy and reserved, someone who he can corrupt. Someone who can make him go absolutely crazy.

“You see, I see the way you look at me”, he says, caressing your back with the hand he had on your waist. “Jihyo is not very quiet and every time she catches my attention you're there and every time I look at you, you're looking at me”, he says, like he's saying something you don't know. “After some time I just came to the conclusion that you may like me. Am I right about that?”

You nod automatically, like you're obligated to tell him the truth. Maybe your brain just doesn't work when you're near him.

“Hmm”, Minho hums, “tell me then, what can you do for me?”

“W-what do you mean?” You manage to ask, getting goosebumps with every touch of his.

“I mean to say, why should I choose you? I have a great number of options”, he smirks. He's teasing now, even though he's already set on making you his, he just wants to hear your answer.

You have so many things to use at your advantage, pretty lips that he wants to kiss, soft skin that he wants to leave marks all over and the sweetest voice that he wants to hear crying his name while he fucks you so deeply you'll beg him to keep going.

“Anything”, you gulp, “you can do anything you want with me, I'm entirely yours”, and that is better than anything else he could hear. That is the last straw.

Minho puts his hand behind your neck, pulling you to him and kissing you in a hungry, hot kiss. He grabs your hair with the other hand, pulling a handful and making you groan with the sudden pain but it's still so good. His tongue brushes on your lips, entering your mouth and slightly caressing yours. The way he's grabbing you is just too much, you feel like you're going to explode at any moment.

Minho lets go of you for a moment just to take his shirt off, showing you his bare chest. He gets back on grabbing you, pressing you against his body. You're not sure if this is right but it definitely doesn't feel wrong.

You take your crop top off, throw it on the floor and pray that Jihyo will forgive you for doing that with her clothes. Wrapping your arms around Minho's neck, you kiss him again, feeling his bulge beneath you.

He sneaks a hand down your stomach, unbuttoning your jeans and pushing your panties to the side as soon as he manages to reach your soaking cunt.

Minho presses a finger on your clit, you stop the kiss just to gasp and he pulls away, staring at you while he inserts a finger between your folds.

“Has anyone ever fingered you?” He whispers, listening to your low moans, you're cute trying to hold back.

You open your eyes to look at him, shaking your head. That's beautiful, he gets even more excited to know he's the first one giving you pleasure like that.

“And what about sex, have you had it before?” He asks one more question, pushing his finger in and out of you.

“A-a few times”, you struggle to say, feeling your cheeks hot.

“That's good, virgins aren't really my thing”, he smirks, “then, you can handle one more finger, right?” He asks, not waiting for your answer and pushing in another finger inside of you.

“Oh”, it's the only sound you can make. You hold him harder, with your mind dizzy. “It's too much”, you sob, feeling the stretch, it burns a bit but it's so good.

“Oh, Kitten”, he pouts. “How are you supposed to handle my cock if you can't handle two fingers? I'm bigger than that”, he smirks while saying that.

“I can do it, I can”, you nod frantically, too drunk on the pleasure of his fingers inside you to think straight.

“I'm glad you're confident”, he takes his fingers out of you and takes them to his mouth, liking every drop of your juice. “Your taste might be my new favorite”

He helps you get up, your legs are weak even though you didn't cum. Minho helps you lie on the bed, pulling your jeans down, trailing kisses down your legs while dragging out the fabric.

“You are pretty”, he mutters, taking off his pants and underwear, crawling back to stay on top of you, kissing your chest and your collarbone, biting on the skin and leaving a couple of hickeys there. Minho goes down your breasts, sucking and licking your nipples, kneading at the other with his hand. He's humping on your leg, rubbing his hard cock on your thigh.

His touch makes you feel like you're on fire, tingling sensations spreading all over your body. His kisses leave you so turned on, you don't think you ever felt this horny.

“Kitten”, he calls you, making you blush. It's crazy to think that even though you two are naked in front of each other, him calling you a pet name is what makes you flustered.

Minho gives you a peck on the lips, leaning over to the bedside table to look for a condom. He opens the package with his teeth, spitting the piece of plastic and stroking his cock on hand.

He looks so good, standing on his knees in between your legs, eyes closed feeling his fist caressing him.

“Let me do it”, you take the courage to say, sitting and taking the package out of his mouth into your hands. Minho watches you attentively as you grab the base of his cock, sliding the condom down his length.

“Fuck”, he murmurs, grabbing your face on his hands and kissing you so hard you can taste blood, not sure from which of you.

Minho positions himself in your entrance, looking at you to wait for your consent and when you nod he pushes in. You wrap your legs around his hips, trying to bring him closer even though it hurts a bit, it's so good you think you will go crazy.

“M-minho”, you moan, throwing your arms around his waist, digging your nails on his skin.

“Shit, you're perfect”, he starts moving, each trust making you moan louder. Your walls are squeezing him so deliciously that he can cum at any moment. His cock feels so good, reaching all the places you didn't even know existed.

Minho kisses you, fucking into you so fast you can barely breath. You never thought he could be even more beautiful, hair stuck on his sweaty forehead, eyes staring intensely at yours, bottom lip stuck between his teeth while he fucks you senseless. He leans closer, kissing your neck, leaving a long and a bit painful mark there.

“You're mine now”, he smiles shakily, clearly close to his release. You can feel your orgasm approaching too, cumming and tightening your legs around his hips, making his release follow yours.

Minho gives you a kiss before falling to your side, breathing heavily accompanied by you. You don't know what to say and you're scared he'll pretend this was nothing so you get up, collecting your things, not waiting for him to kick you out.

“What are you doing?” He asks, scowling.

“Getting dressed so I can get out”, you explain naively, being watched by him like you're the prey and he is the predator.

“What part of “you're mine now”, you didn't understand?” He asks, laying down with an arm beneath his head and the other stretched to the side of the bed, waiting for you to lie there. “Come back here, I'm not even nearly done with you”, he smirks, watching you blush again.

You drop the clothes you have collected, crawling back on the bed and snuggling close to him. Minho pulls you closer, turning to you and wrapping his free arm around your waist.

“I'll tell you what we're gonna do”, he explains and you nod, “I'm going to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is my name and after that I'll take you out to dinner”

Lee Know presses his body on yours, showing you that his cock is already hardening again and you giggle, blushing once more.

Never have you felt so happy to trust drunk people's instructions.

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

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harrysfolklore · 2 months ago

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omg i have a question for the bitchy carlos fic -

so nicole piastri came on red flags podcast recently and spoke about oscar and his childhood, what if there’s an au segment of her talking about older piastri & what would his reaction be

okay this turned out being way longer than intended bc i added the scene of carlos and nicole meeting bc why not, i hope i'm not annoying you with too much little bitch content, i'll promise i'll post for other drivers now READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

Host: "So, Nicole, we've heard a lot about Oscar's journey to F1, but what can you tell us about his relationship with his sister, YN? She has quite the personality online, doesn't she? Can you tell us about their relationship growing up?

Nicole:"Oh, those two. They've always had such a special bond. YN is a few years older than Oscar and yes, she's known as the Piastri who fights people online, but she's always been fiercely protective of him. From the moment YN first held Oscar as a baby, she appointed herself his protector. It was adorable and sometimes a bit much, but always came from a place of love.

Host: Can you give us an example?

Nicole: "When Oscar was about six and YN was maybe nine. Oscar had just started school and was having trouble making friends. He was quite shy back then, if you can believe it. One day, YN overheard some kids teasing Oscar in the playground."

Host: "Oh no, what happened?"

Nicole: "Well, YN marched right up to those boys and she told them off in no uncertain terms. She said, and I quote, 'My brother is going to be a famous race car driver one day, and you'll all be asking for his autograph. So you'd better be nice to him now!' The boys were so shocked they just stood there with their mouths open."

Host:"That's amazing! Did it help Oscar?"

Nicole: "It did, actually. Oscar was so impressed by his big sister standing up for him that it gave him a confidence boost. And you know what? Some of those boys ended up becoming his good friends. They still joke about YN's 'prophecy' coming true now that Oscar's in F1."

Host: "That's such a heartwarming story! It's clear YN has always been protective of Oscar. Now, speaking of relationships, we've heard that YN is dating Carlos Sainz. Can you tell us a bit about how that came to be?"

Nicole: "Oh, that's an interesting story! YN actually told us she was dating Carlos a while back, but we weren't surprised at all. We knew she liked him since that time in Singapore last year when our family visited. YN was trying so hard to act mad about Carlos' win, but it was obvious she was impressed."

Host: "So you had suspicions before they even got together?"

Nicole: "Absolutely! Even before that Singapore trip, YN used to go on these multiple rants about, in her words, 'this arrogant Spaniard' who kept pushing Oscar off track. She called him something I won't repeat but I'm pretty sure everyone knows it, it absolutely irritated her. But you know what? We all knew that deep down, she had a crush on him."

Host: "That's quite the turnaround! Have you met Carlos — as YN’s partner this time — yet?"

Nicole: "I haven’t, actually. I’m hoping to do that in Baku after the summer break. But I can see Carlos brings out a softer side of YN that we don't often see in public. Don't get me wrong, she's still fiercely stubborn and outspoken, but with Carlos, there's this gentleness that comes out. He seems to really understand and appreciate her passion, and he's not intimidated by her strong personality at all. In fact, he seems to admire it."

Host: "It sounds like they complement each other well. How has Oscar taken to their relationship?"

Nicole: "Oscar's been very supportive. I think he appreciates seeing his sister happy, and of course, it doesn't hurt that Carlos is someone he respects on the track. It's actually quite funny to see YN now, cheering for both Oscar and Carlos during races. She's always torn between wanting Oscar to win and not wanting Carlos to lose."

Host: "That's nice, Carlos sounds like quite the gentleman. Has YN picked up any Spanish since they started dating?"

Nicole: "Oh, that's actually a funny story. We love to tease YN about this. You see, she failed Spanish in high school - couldn't conjugate a verb to save her life. And now here she is, dating a Spaniard! Carlos has been trying to teach her, but let's just say it's a work in progress. She can now order a beer and ask where the bathroom is, so I suppose that's progress!"

Host: "That's hilarious! I'm sure she'll be fluent in no time."

Nicole: "Bless her, she's really trying. She's determined to have a full conversation with Carlos' parents in Spanish by the end of the year. We'll see how that goes!"

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 498,646 others

ynpiastri our queen is here !! and no one is ready

tagged: nicolepiastri

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username1 NICOLE PIASTRI IS THE MOMENT

username2 SLAY THE HOUSE BOOTS DOWN

mclaren Icon 🧡

lilyzneimer the besttttt 💓

username3 IS SHE MEETING CARLOS ??

username4 oh i can’t wait to see our queen giving carlos a run for his money again

landonorris Coolest ever

↳ ynpiastri her favorite will always be yuki don’t even try it

↳ username1 HEEEELP

yukitsunoda5511 Nicole is brat

↳ username2 I LOVE THEM 😭

oscarpiastri I’m ready, your boyfriend however…

↳ username3 LOOOOORDDD

↳ username1 POOR CARLOS

↳ ynpiastri leave him alone 😤😤

Baku had a special energy during race weekends. The tight streets and high-pressure atmosphere gave you a mixture of excitement and nerves, but today, the butterflies in your stomach had nothing to do with the Grand Prix. Instead, it was about the lunch you were about to have, where Carlos would meet your mom—officially, as your boyfriend this time.

You walked through the paddock with Carlos by your side, his hand wrapped around yours. Oscar was a few steps ahead, casually walking toward the hospitality area where no other than Nicole Piastri waited. She had met Carlos briefly before, like many of the other drivers, but this was different. He wasn’t just a name on the grid anymore—he was the man you were dating, and Carlos seemed to be nervous about the meeting.

"You think she likes me?" Carlos adjusted his hat for what felt like the hundredth time, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Carlos, she’s going to love you," you couldn’t help but smile at his nerves, "She already does. But, you know... as a mum, she's entitled to give you a little hard time."

"That’s what I’m worried about," Carlos chuckled, but his smile was still tight, "I just want to make a good impression, you know?"

"You will," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "Just be yourself."

Oscar slowed down, overhearing your conversation and grinning like he already knew how this would play out. "Mum’s gonna grill you, mate," he teased, throwing a glance back at Carlos. "She’s been waiting for this."

"Not helping, Oscar," you muttered, giving your brother a playful shove. He just smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

When you finally reached the hospitality tent, your mom was already seated at a table, smiling warmly as she saw you all approach. She stood up to greet you, wrapping you in a familiar hug before turning to Carlos with that same welcoming smile—though you knew there was a glint of mischief behind it.

“Carlos, it’s so good to see you again,” she greeted, shaking his hand.

"It’s great to see you too, Mrs. Piastri," Carlos said, his polite smile fixed on his face. His Spanish charm was dialed up a notch, but you could still feel the slight tension in his grip as he held your hand.

“Please, call me Nicole,” she said, taking her seat again. “I’m not that formal, especially not with my daughter’s boyfriend.”

As you all settled into your seats, you couldn't help but notice the amused glances Oscar and your mom were exchanging. You knew that look—they were up to something.

"So," Nicole began, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "how long have you two been together again?"

You glanced at Carlos, who seemed to relax a bit as he answered, "About two months officially, right, cariño?"

You nodded, but before you could add anything, your mom raised an eyebrow. "And unofficially?"

"Mum!" you said as you felt your cheeks heat up.

Oscar, who had taken a seat across from you, let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the dynamic unfold.

"That’s what I thought," she teased, making Oscar let out a loud laugh.

You felt your face grow even hotter as your mom's implications hung in the air. Carlos, to his credit, managed to maintain his composure, though you noticed a slight redness creeping up his neck.

"Well," Carlos cleared his throat, his accent a bit thicker than usual, "I think it's safe to say we've known each other for quite some time now."

"Oh, I remember. You two weren't exactly friendly at first, were you?"

"That's putting it mildly, Mum," Oscar snorted, "Remember the time she came home absolutely fuming after a race? She was ranting about 'that little bi—'"

"Oscar!" you cut him off, "We don't need to relive that."

Carlos squeezed your hand under the table, clearly amused. "No, please, I'd love to hear about this."

"Oh mate, you should've heard her," Oscar spoke again, "'Carlos this, Carlos that.' I swear, she talked about you more when she hated you than she does now."

"I did not!" you protested, but your brother's knowing smirk told you he wasn't buying it.

"It's true," your mum added, her eyes dancing with laughter. "I remember thinking, 'This girl protests too much.' I had a feeling even then that all that anger was hiding something else."

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "I can't believe this is happening."

Carlos wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "It's okay, hermosa. I love to hear these stories."

You looked up at him, seeing the warmth in his eyes. It was hard to believe that those same eyes had once glared at you across the paddock.

Nicole smiled, watching the two of you with that familiar mom look—part teasing, part proud. "Well, now look at you. I guess all that bickering was just a cover-up for how much you liked each other."

"You’ve gone soft," Oscar rolled his eyes dramatically. "I kinda miss the days when you’d call each other names."

"Don’t worry," you muttered, giving Carlos a playful glare. "He’s still a little bitch sometimes."

Carlos laughed, his arm tightening around you as he kissed the top of your head. "And you’re still my favorite enemy turned girlfriend."

Your mom let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in her chair. "I knew it all along."

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hjijp · 3 months ago

Text

haechan boyfriend thoughts

pairing. haechan x reader // warnings. mentions of the kpop industry, mentions of feeling like a burden? a/n. // this is rushed ngl, my bad

bf!haechan who is constantly seeking opportunities to establish physical contact with you, whether you're in a public setting or in the privacy of your own space. his desire to be in close proximity to you at all times is evident, and he finds great comfort in the warmth of physical touch. any remarks or teasing about his attachment to you are inconsequential to him, as nothing else matters when he has you by his side.

bf!haechan who can truly be himself when around you, with no judgment or cameras watching. haechan lives a stressful life, which is evident when he returns to your shared apartment with tense shoulders and a frown on his face. during times like these, he loves to cuddle up with you while watching his favourite show in the background.

bf!haechan who will fiercely defend you. he always stands up for you when someone says something negative about you. he's the kind of boyfriend who will fight tooth and nail to protect and support you, no matter what.

bf!haechan who always insists that you play his favourite games with him, even if you don't know how to play. he'll either bring another chair for you to sit with him at his desk or he'll pull you into his lap. he loves to teach you how to play a game he's passionate about. It brings him great joy to share his favourite things with you.

bf!haechan who is always concerned about not burdening you with his problems. he puts in a lot of effort to shield you from the negative side of the industry so that you don't worry about him. however, his reluctance to talk about his issues only increases your concern for him. he swears he'll try harder to be more open about his problems.

bf!haechan who makes it a priority to stay connected with you by sharing his day-to-day experiences while he's away on tour. he loves sending you not only pictures of sunsets and sunrises but also little mementos that remind him of you. he loves to pick out small souvenirs from the places he visits, hoping to bring you a piece of the world he's exploring.

bf!haechan who is a playful tease who finds endless joy in making you blush. his mischievous nature knows no bounds as he continually finds ways to playfully poke fun at you, leaving your cheeks a constant shade of red.

bf!haechan who always puts in the effort to ensure that every day is filled with fun, especially when you're on a date. his greatest joy comes from seeing your happiness, especially when it's because of something he did.

bf!haechan who never fails to express his belief that you are the most beautiful person he has ever laid eyes on. he adores capturing candid images of you which he cherishes and adds to his dedicated album filled with those lovely moments.

#nct dream x reader #nct dream drabbles #nct dream fanfic #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream timestamps #haechan x reader #lee haechan x reader #lee haechan imagines #nct dream headcanons #haechan headcannons #lee donghyuck x reader #lee donghyuck imagines #nct dream reactions #haechan timestamps #nct dream fluff #haechan fluff #haechan fanfic #haechan scenarios

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madwomansapologist · 8 months ago

Note

Hi, are you still looking for Baldur's Gate 3 requests? Could you please write something about the main BG3 Companions (+ our boi Halsin) with a Tav/reader who's really short and adorable and just an absolute sweetheart but is horrifyingly powerful in their lore? Like NPCs who know about them back away in fear kinda thing. Maybe Tav can even transform into some sort of battle form where they're like 9 feet tall (as opposed to their usual height of like 4' 10") and can absolutely kick ass on the battlefield?

Thanks so much, I hope you have a wonderful day! Take care!

bg3 companions with a adorably powerful tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: Who could imagine such a sweet thing as you had the reputation of a hero?

warnings: companions (lae'zel, shadowheart, astarion, gale dekarios, wyll ravengard, karlach, halsin, jaheira) x tav. fluff.

note: thank you for your request! oh gods how i missed writing headcanons. i hope you like this, have a wonderful day!

Lae'zel

Lae'zel knew your shared condition had a cure, and was willing to put herself in danger by taking the entire party with her to the nearest crèche. That being said, how couldn't she judge you?

You were too easy on everyone. Making promises you clearly shouldn't, taking them seriously despite her best efforts to put some sense in your head. The party was supposed to only stop walking when surrounded by githyankis, but no burdened tiefling or hurt animal escaped your careful gaze.

That you knew how to fight surprised her, but to see fear and admiration in the eyes of civillians... that made Lae'zel pay more attention to you. You had a reputation. Not as a writer, bard or patron. You're know for striking down your enemies.

Fighting at the goblin's camp, there were so many oponents even Lae'zel didn't knew if it would be her last fight. You saw it too, so you made sure to use everything you had to win. Even if you would rather not turn into an eldritch creature.

She got enchanted by your battle form. Steel and iron where nothing against the pure strenght of your skin. Whatever crossed your path that day suffered at your hands.

That was the first time Lae'zel got happy for being wrong about someone.

"Perhaps I've judged you too hard. You are fierce, foracious, as sharp as my sword and as brave as a red dragon. Keep on surprising me and a istik you'll be no more."

Shadowheart

Shadowheart couldn't care less about the tieflings and their problems, but it was endearing to watch you wandering throught the Coast in an attempt to ensure their safety. It was a sight she couldn't expect to observe in this journey, not when considering the worm twitching behind her eye and the artifact messing with their dreams.

Still, you could shut down her biggest fears with ease. While she tried to remain quiet, you were full of kind words to share with whoever was near. You care for all beings, great and small, and Shadowheart can respect that. A person without a truth to follow is empty, but one with a mission turns into so much more than just a walking corpse.

She focused on protecting you during fights. Always giving you some sort of magic shield, casting sanctuary, begging you to drink potions and elixirs that would keep you safe.

Goblins attacked, and for a second everyone was too surprised to react properly. Except by you. You were quick to defend your party, to fight for them, and won a fight no one was preparad to.

Shadowheart decided not to underestimate you again. Kind words, gentle actions, caring gaze: she was so focused on her own view about you that forgot to pay attention to the way everyone else saw you.

You're powerful. The kinda of powerful that their party had to be grateful that you were fighting besides them.

When you revealed your beast form to her, Shadowheart already knew you were a sight to behold.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you? Good. I like how you keep me on my toes, love."

Astarion

In theory, he should've been delighted with your personality. You were the perfect prey. A leader so sweet, he could change your mind at his will and you wouldn't even noticed. Others respect you. Astarion would be safe and sound.

But Astarion isn't capable of forgetting how easily you fought back when he tried to fool you. How he didn't even saw you moving, and was alone on the floor before he could understand what had hit him.

Instead of a person, you were a walking question mark. How can you be so sickenly adorable, and still so ready to strike down your enemies? Were did the sweet half of you finished and the other one started?

People know you. He saw respect in druid's eyes, fear when goblins heard your name. Halsin knew about you. And so did Minthara.

Few are able to live up to their reputation, but you're one of those. So strong, so brave, but your kindness wasn't ignored by him. It was as if in your head the whole world deserved your kindness, until it did no more. Only then you react.

Astarion don't know what to think about it.

When you attacked as a beast, tearing spiders apart as if they were a piece of meat in your plate, Astarion laughed until his belly ache.

How could be so right and so wrong about someone?

"Don't mind me, darling. I'm just rejoicing at the sight of your bloody hands. Come here. Let me taste your heroic mess."

Gale Dekarios

Gale learned two things about you when you pulled him out of stone: you were kind, and so damn strong.

You were adorable. A perfect equation between what people must do in order to survive and what they must do in order to live well. He can't see you not being surrounded by friends and admirers, all enchanted by your sweet words and rightful attacks.

He feared the party's reaction to the Orb, but a part of him knew you would let him stay. He never imagined you would give him magic artifacts without a second question, or that you would hug him after he told you his whole story.

You didn't let him go. Neither did Gale.

To say he was willing to agree with whatever you did was to say his heart beats. It was only natural. Maybe you both differ on the path you want to take, but the destination is usually the same.

When he saw you feral, body changing to give space to something else, Gale wondered if he was one of those enchanted people surrounding you. If he wasn't fighting for his life, Gale would gadly gaze upon you for the rest of the day.

"Disgusted? I was unable to look away from you! You are the one I love, no claws or tentacles will ever change that. Must I add, my love, your light remains strong in whatever form you decide to use."

Wyll Ravengard

To say the least, he's a fan. Oh, how lovely are the tales of your adventures through Faêrun. He remember arguing with bards about the accuracy of their versions and the reason behind their choice of words. You were what a hero must aim to.

How long were the nights he spend wandering after he was casted out of Baldur's Gate. Lonely nights, but never silent. Wyll's mind fought against itself. He lost everything to help and protect others. Sometimes he worried if he had lost himself too.

Your tales weren't his salvation. None of them shut down those voices that insisted on telling him about the mistakes he made, neither did them shut Mizora. But they inspired him. If you did all those things, remained human even as a beast, he could survive a talkative cambion. Wyll Ravengard can defeat her by staying loyal to himself.

Wyll didn't had to hear your name to know you were fighting next to him, defending the grove against goblins and worgs. He saw enough drawings of you to recognize you from miles afar. When you asked him to be a member of your party, Wyll felt as if a million fireworks exploded inside his chest at the same time.

He did felt anger and pain because of the tadpole, but never fear. Fighting beside you, Wyll knew he didn't had to fear for his future. And after seeing how willing you were to argue with multiple cambions, he started to have hope.

"I used to read about legends, myths of bravery and rightousness. Some see it as just tales for the naive. Thank you, my heart. For proving them wrong time after time."

Karlach

She's the only one with an excuse for not knowing who you are. When strangers call you by your entire name, when companions use your epithet: Karlach just never thought about it. She ignored it, paying no mind to others.

But Karlach did knew you were a absolute sweetheart. What you didn't had of height you compensate with a gigantic personality. For her, the way you behaved was simply alluring.

While many prefer to think the world is a bad place and no one living there can chose to be or do better, you are just another reason for her to know that it's bullshit. Because Karlach is good, despise it all. And Wyll. And you.

And Minsc!!!

You had a fire on you whenever you had to fight. She didn't need to know your story to see how great you can be. Some people just have that. She don't know if that fire is born or forged, but some people just have it.

To see you as a beast made her the most happy woman in Faêrun. She got speechless, all she could do was laugh and run around to have a better view of you ending the Steel Watch.

"You got 'em, soldier! Go on, bite his arm off! You see that monster over there? The one with glowing eyes. That's the love of my fucking life."

Halsin

He saw you before. Druids and harpist fought against sharrans, and you were one of the heroes who joined their cause. At that time Halsin didn't talked to you, but he knew you fought until the very end and stayed to help with the infirm.

When you rescued him, Halsin knew you remembered him too. There was some understanding between you both, a companionship that only those who foght together can share.

He knew you were a hero, one of those who fight wars that don't affect them because someone needs too, but your personality was a good surprise. Halsin haven't imagined you so easy going. Always offering smiles, light jokes, being clumsy without a care when danger was far away.

After the battle against sharrans, he thought those who refered to you as a monster were trying to make others understand how eficient you were. It surprised him to see they were just being honest.

Nothing would stop Halsin from turning into a bear and joining you.

"In this damned city, you are a beacon of hope. The Oak Father graced us with your light. From your fiece strikes to your honey soaked words... I am lucky to live at the same time as you, my love."

Jaheira

As a fellow adventurer, it surprised Jaheira that you weren't already tired. You both lived for so long, did so much, it would be only natural for you to give a pause on your endless smiles and envied patience. She was wrong, but that wasn't a bad thing.

Jaheira knew how this life can steal things from you. Peace feels like a threat, to stop make you feel like a prey, to laugh makes you wonder if it will be the last time. Is impossible to be a hero without losing. She's glad you didn't lose yourself in your path.

There was an unspoken pact between you both. The stories, the songs, the faux memories. So many think to know everything about you two. Sometimes Jaheira will read you a book you're in when she knows it's a shameless lie, and you sing her songs about adventures she did not lived.

Your laugh could make her feel younger. Alive. You both were so differents, but knew each other in a way few could.

Whenever you chose to strike as a monster, she would join you as a myrmidon and had her fun. You both deserve it.

"I did well not underestimating you, cub. It is impossible not to laugh at those who can't see how your bright smile hides sharp fangs. As pretty as a diamond, and as fierce too."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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solxamber · 1 month ago

Note

hello!, I was wondering if I can request twisted wonderland with male reader with a fierce wild cat personality? Any characters are fine but preferably the dormleaders, thank you! :)

thank you for the request <3 and i interpreted it as a wild cat beastman reader, and if that's not what you meant, you can resend the request and i'll write that! and i got carried away and did all the characters but the dormleaders' parts are a little longer

Characters: All NRC + Staff(completely platonic) + Grim(completely platonic) + Rollo, Neige and Chen'ya as a little treat

Riddle Rosehearts: The Stressed but Sweet Caretaker

Riddle was trying his best to remain composed, really. But watching you—a wild, fierce, untamable beastman—dangle upside down from a tree branch while growling at a confused pair of first-years was not helping his stress levels.

“Get down this instant!” he barked, glaring up at you. “That behavior is absolutely—”

But you just smirked down at him, tail flicking lazily as you refused to budge. “Make me,” you teased, stretching out leisurely across the branch, fully aware of how much you were winding him up.

Riddle’s eye twitched. “I will write you up for insubordination! Or worse, I’ll—”

You jumped down right in front of him, landing with perfect, feline grace, and leaned in close, a wild grin on your face. “You’ll what? Punish me?” you purred.

For a brief moment, Riddle’s composure cracked, his cheeks going bright red. He stammered, flustered, and finally looked away, exhaling sharply. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

And though you teased him relentlessly, you eventually backed off, surprising him with an affectionate headbutt that left him speechless. You had a knack for driving him to the brink of insanity—and then doing something sweet that made him almost enjoy it.

Trey Clover: The Beast Tamer

Trey’s patient, steady demeanor makes it impossible to ruffle him, no matter how feral you act. You once threw a fit in the kitchen, upset that someone had left out a bunch of vegetables instead of the meat-heavy snacks you craved.

Trey calmly handed you a whisk, nudging you toward a bowl of dough. “You know,” he said, smiling like a saint, “kneading dough is a great way to get rid of all that extra energy.”

You blinked, glaring at the flour-coated mess, but before you knew it, your hands were working the dough, tension easing. Trey just chuckled, somehow always knowing how to soothe your wild side.

Cater Diamond: Magicam’s Feral Star

Cater’s camera is practically glued to his hand whenever you’re around. “Omg, this is gold!” he chirps as he snaps shots of you mid-growl or pounce.

He even convinced you to strike some fierce, dramatic poses just for his Magicam account. “Okay, now show me that ‘wild beast who’s secretly a softie’ look,” Cater teases with a wink.

You snarl, lunging at him to swipe the camera from his hands, but he just laughs and dodges. “Wow, so wild!” You grumble but secretly enjoy the attention.

Ace Trappola: Professional Button-Pusher

Ace never misses an opportunity to tease you. He’ll poke at your cat ears or flick your tail when he thinks you’re not paying attention. “Careful, or I’ll have pictures of you chasing your own tail like a housecat,” he reminds you, grinning.

One day, after an especially exasperating comment, you lunge at him, claws out—but instead of fleeing, Ace bolts behind Deuce, who yelps in panic. “Hey, he’s your problem too!” Ace cackles, leaving you growling while Deuce looks panicked. “Ace! Quit using me as a shield!”

Deuce Spade: Honor-Bound Sparring Partner

Deuce tries to treat you with the utmost respect, but sometimes your wild side catches him off guard. The first time you wrestled him to the ground as a playful challenge, he froze. “I-Is this a duel?” he asked, wide-eyed, his honor-bound sense of duty kicking in. “Uh, no. It’s just a cat thing,” you explained, blinking down at him. But instead of calming him down, he took it way too seriously, swearing he’d learn to be strong enough to one day match your strength. Now, every time he challenges you to a spar, you just sigh and pat him on the head.

Leona Kingscholar: The Sleepy, Grumpy Mentor

Leona had never expected to find a wildcat who could match his laziness and his stubbornness. Yet, here you were, lounging next to him in the botanical gardens, basking in the sun.

“Yer blockin’ my light,” he grumbled half-heartedly, pushing you away with a lazy hand as you sprawled out over him.

You didn’t move an inch, only let out a low growl of satisfaction, “Find your own spot, ‘King.’ This one’s mine now.”

Leona snorted, amused despite himself. He didn’t care much for company, but you were an exception—mostly because you never tried to impress him or suck up. You just existed beside him, like another lazy lion in the pride.

Occasionally, though, you’d get a burst of energy—pouncing on him when he least expected it, challenging him to wrestle, which would invariably end with you two snarling and rolling around the gardens like cubs until Leona finally pinned you down.

“Quit strugglin’,” he’d mutter, half-sighing, half-grumbling as you squirmed under his hold.

“Never,” you’d retort with a cocky grin, only to go limp the moment Leona let out an exasperated sigh, settling back in as if nothing had happened.

“Yer such a pain,” he’d grumble, but secretly, he liked the challenge you brought to his otherwise lethargic life.

Ruggie Bucchi: Partner in Mischief

Ruggie absolutely loves that you’re a beastman like him. The two of you frequently team up for pranks and schemes. “Hey, we could totally swipe those sandwiches before anyone notices,” he whispers, and before you know it, you’re both in action, working as a sneaky duo.

He’s also not afraid to roughhouse, tackling you in the halls to try and wrestle something you’ve stolen back from him. “C’mon, share! You can’t hog all the loot!” he laughs, half-heartedly trying to swipe whatever you’ve nabbed.

When you snarl back playfully, he just smirks. “Alright, alright, keep it! I’ll get ya next time!

Jack Howl: Honor Among Beasts

Jack is all about training and honor, so your wild nature keeps him on his toes. He’s not one to flinch from your growls or playful attacks.

Instead, he meets your ferocity with a determined stance. “Come at me,” he grunts, and before you know it, you’re in a wrestling match, claws and teeth bared—but it’s all in good fun.

Afterward, he’ll clap you on the back, panting but grinning. “Good fight. You’re pretty strong, you know that?” You snicker, catching your breath. “You’re not bad either, pup.” He glares at the nickname but doesn't deny the compliment

Azul Ashengrotto: The Nervous Businessman

Azul had never met someone more unpredictable than you, and that was saying a lot. You had a tendency to pounce on him from the shadows whenever you felt like it, scaring him half to death and knocking his neat little world into chaos.

“Why must you insist on scaring me like that?” Azul shrieked one day as you leaped from behind a curtain, sending his papers flying everywhere.

You grinned, fangs gleaming as you crouched low. “Keeps you on your toes,” you teased, tail swishing playfully behind you.

Azul tried to collect himself, adjusting his glasses with a huff. “I’m running a business, not a… a circus!”

But despite his protests, he often found himself secretly enjoying your antics. They kept him sharp and on edge—qualities he valued, even if they did come with a side of perpetual anxiety. And, more than once, you surprised him by showing up with some rare, exotic item you’d “hunted” in the wild, much to Azul’s gleeful interest.

Though he never openly admitted it, he had a soft spot for your fierce and untamed spirit, even if it did give him heart palpitations on a daily basis.

Jade Leech: Amused Observer

Jade watches your antics with an almost academic fascination. When you’re in the middle of a fierce bout of wrestling with Floyd or Jack, he’ll stand by with a serene smile, making comments like, “Ah, such fascinating instincts you have.”

You never know if he’s complimenting you or analyzing you like a strange specimen. “You’re surprisingly dexterous for someone so… untamed,” Jade remarks after you dart past him in a chase with Floyd.

You roll your eyes, but when you snarl playfully in his direction, Jade’s eyes glint with amusement. “Very intimidating,” he chuckles.

Floyd Leech: Playtime, Anytime, Everytime

Floyd finds your feral energy endlessly amusing. The first time you growled at him, he practically sparkled with delight. “Ooh, a wild kitty! Let’s fight!” Without waiting for a response, he lunged at you, and what followed was an intense but weirdly fun brawl.

Floyd’s unpredictability keeps you on edge, but you’re the only one who seems to match his wildness blow for blow.

He loves sneaking up on you too, draping himself over your shoulders like a scarf and whispering, “Hey, kitty~ Wanna play?” You swat him off, grumbling, but Floyd just laughs and bounds away, promising to find you later.

Kalim Al-Asim: The Overexcited Hype Man

Kalim absolutely adored you.

“Woah!” Kalim exclaimed, jumping around with pure excitement as you leaped effortlessly onto the highest point of Scarabia’s rooftops. “That was amazing! Do it again!”

You, perched like a wild animal on the ledge, gave him a toothy grin. “You’re too easy to impress, Kalim,” you teased, flicking your tail and jumping back down beside him.

“But it’s so cool!” Kalim gushed, eyes sparkling with admiration. “You’re like a real-life king of the jungle or something!”

You ruffled his hair, your normally fierce demeanor softening in the face of his endless enthusiasm. “Well, someone’s got to keep you out of trouble, right?”

Kalim laughed brightly, wrapping you up in an affectionate hug that almost knocked you off balance. You huffed, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t help but smile at his boundless energy. Sure, he wasn’t the most intimidating guy, but he had a way of making you feel like a hero in his eyes, and that was more than enough for you.

Jamil Viper: The Exasperated Handler

Jamil didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask for a fierce, wildcat beastman to constantly wreck his plans with reckless abandon, but here you were. Whether it was stealing food from the kitchens or causing chaos during training sessions, you were always finding ways to make his life harder.

“I swear,” Jamil muttered under his breath, wiping his brow after yet another one of your wild stunts, “you’re going to give me gray hairs before I turn twenty-five.”

You grinned, lounging lazily on a nearby couch, completely unbothered. “You should loosen up, Jamil. You’d have more fun.”

Jamil shot you a withering glare. “I don’t have time for ‘fun.’ Someone has to keep things running smoothly around here, and it certainly isn’t you.”

But despite his constant complaints, Jamil often found himself unconsciously looking after you—making sure you were eating properly (even if you preferred hunting your own food) and quietly smoothing over the chaos you left in your wake. He’d never admit it, but you’d grown on him—like a particularly troublesome stray cat that he couldn’t help but care for.

Vil: The Patient Tamer

Vil had dealt with divas, but you were a whole different beast—literally. Yet, somehow, the idea of taming your wild nature was a challenge he couldn’t resist.

“You could look so much better if you just let me help you,” Vil sighed as he brushed back a lock of your messy hair.

You growled in response, swatting his hand away. “I’m not some house cat for you to groom.”

“And that attitude,” Vil replied with a perfectly arched brow, “is why you continue to look like you just crawled out of a jungle.”

You gave him a sharp-toothed grin. “That’s because I did.”

Vil sighed dramatically but never gave up. Over time, you begrudgingly let him “polish” you up, as he liked to call it, and much to your surprise (though you’d never admit it), you didn’t hate the way he made you look. And for all his refinement, Vil had a deep respect for your strength and fierce independence, often praising you for qualities that no one else seemed to notice.

“You have a certain wild charm,” Vil once told you with a smirk. “Just… let me polish it to perfection.

Rook Hunt: Enthralled by the Beast

Rook absolutely adores your wild side. “Ah, magnifique!” he’ll exclaim whenever you bare your fangs or show off your feral grace. “Such raw, untamed beauty in your movements! You are truly a predator among men!”

It’s flattering at first, but eventually, you find yourself trying to escape his relentless admiration.

He’s always trying to sneak up on you, challenge your senses. “Ah, mon ami féroce, can you sense me even when I am but a shadow?” You snarl in annoyance, knowing he’s nearby but unsure where. He cackles, “Très bien! Your instincts are sharp, as always!” You’ve accepted that Rook will forever be your most persistent fan.

Epel Felmier: Wrestling Buddy

Epel thinks your wild nature is the coolest thing ever. He’s always asking you to spar, wanting to prove his strength. “C’mon, I ain’t afraid of a few claws!” he boasts, puffing out his chest. You can’t help but laugh at his bravado, but you indulge him.

After a few rounds of wrestling, you let him win, watching as he struts around proudly. “See? I can handle it!” he declares, even though he’s panting and disheveled.

You chuckle and tousle his hair. “Sure thing, champ.” Despite the light teasing, Epel genuinely enjoys having someone around who doesn’t treat him like he’s fragile.

Idia: The Startled Cat Owner

Idia didn’t do well with social interactions, let alone a wildcat beastman who liked to sneak up on him while he was gaming.

“Gah!” Idia yelped, almost knocking his controller out of his hands when you suddenly appeared behind him, your tail swishing lazily. “D-Dude, warn me next time!”

You chuckled, plopping down beside him. “You’re way too easy to sneak up on.”

Idia grumbled something about “max stealth stats” but let you stay, mostly because he was too nervous to tell you to leave. Though, as time went on, he started to get used to your sudden appearances, even finding comfort in the fact that you always seemed to gravitate toward him—like some kind of guard cat.

It wasn’t long before you both ended up gaming together, with Idia quietly giving you tips while you teased him about being the “weakest cat in the den.”

And though Idia would never admit it, he appreciated your presence more than anyone knew. Having a fierce beastman around made him feel a little safer, even if you did constantly startle him half to death.

Ortho: The Curious Brother

Ortho is instantly fascinated by you. “You’re so cool!” he exclaims, scanning you with his eyes glowing as he processes data. He’s always asking questions about your wild beastman nature, wondering about your enhanced senses, strength, and agility.

“Is your tail prehensile? Can you communicate with other animals?” His curiosity never ends, and you find it endearing.

Sometimes, Ortho will run simulations with you, testing your speed or sparring with you in a safe environment, always careful to make sure you don’t get hurt.

He even programs a few custom video game challenges for you to try, and despite his more robotic nature, you swear you see him puffing up with pride when you praise his efforts. "I knew you'd like that feature! Maybe one day, I can create a robotic panther, and we can team up!"

His enthusiasm and innocence make your interactions lighthearted and full of adventure—like having a little brother who looks up to you in every way.

Malleus: The Intrigued Fae Prince

Malleus had never met someone so wild yet so intriguing. Your untamed nature reminded him of the old stories of beastmen who roamed the forests long ago, and he couldn’t help but be fascinated by your strength and unpredictability.

One day, during one of your many impromptu sparring sessions, Malleus observed you with a rare smile. “You are quite remarkable,” he said as you pounced toward him, claws out.

You grinned mid-leap. “And you’re not too bad yourself, dragon boy.”

“You’re quite the lively one,” Malleus remarked, barely winded as he effortlessly dodged your attacks, his long coat swishing elegantly behind him. “I must admit, I find your untamed spirit... refreshing.”

You growled in frustration but couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at your lips. “If you keep talking like that, dragon boy, I might think you’re flirting.”

Malleus’s lips twitched upward. “And if I were?”

Lilia Vanrouge: Playful Mentor

Lilia finds your wild antics endlessly entertaining. He’ll often join in, playfully flipping around and encouraging you to let loose even more. “Yes! That’s the spirit!” he cackles after you leap onto a high ledge during one of your spontaneous chases.

He even offers you advice on how to hone your instincts, and you’re surprised at how sharp and perceptive he is. “Ah, you remind me of some old friends from centuries ago,” he says with a fond smile.

“Such ferocity is admirable.” You growl, but it’s half-hearted—Lilia’s playful energy is contagious. Plus, he’s surprisingly good at dodging your attacks, making him an entertaining sparring partner.

Silver: Sleepy Companion

Silver finds your energy a bit exhausting, to be honest. But he doesn’t mind it too much. In fact, he often naps while you’re causing havoc, and you’ll find him fast asleep in the middle of a brawl or sparring match.

“How do you sleep through all this noise?” you ask one day, poking him awake. Silver yawns and stretches lazily. “I’ve gotten used to it,” he says with a sleepy smile. “Besides, you’re not as scary as you think.”

You grumble, but there’s something endearing about how relaxed he is around you. Sometimes you’ll sit next to him while he naps, and you catch yourself softening, just a little.

Sebek Zigvolt: Constantly Offended

Sebek is furious about your untamed behavior. “How dare you act so… so savage in the presence of Malleus-sama!” he roars whenever you’re being particularly wild.

He’s always lecturing you about manners and proper decorum, but you find it amusing how easily ruffled he gets. One day, you purposely growl while gnawing on some meat in front of him, just to see his reaction. “Disgraceful!” he yells, practically sputtering. “You are in the presence of greatness, and you—!”

You cut him off with a smirk. “Relax, Sebek. It’s just a joke.” Sebek fumes but can’t seem to argue with your nonchalance. Malleus finds it funny, and that only makes Sebek more frustrated.

Rollo Flamme: The Begrudging Observer

Rollo isn’t quite sure what to make of you. He’s used to quiet order and isn’t a fan of anything remotely chaotic or, in your case, wild. You can see his disdain every time you let your beastman instincts slip—climbing trees, lounging on rooftops, or hunting for sport on school grounds.

“That behavior is unbecoming of a student,” he huffs, glaring at you from across the room. You just give him a toothy grin, flashing your sharp canines, which makes him bristle. Still, he’s too much of a stickler for rules to do anything drastic.

He does, however, go out of his way to avoid you during events, always muttering something about ‘chaos incarnate.’

One day, you catch him staring at you from afar, and when you wave with a lazy smirk, he turns sharply on his heel. “I have no time for such nonsense,” he grumbles under his breath, but there’s a hint of curiosity in his eyes that he refuses to acknowledge.

Neige LeBlanche: The Overly Cheerful One

Neige is utterly fascinated by you, in the most innocent, endearing way possible. “Wow, you’re so strong! And those ears!” he exclaims every time he sees you, eyes sparkling with genuine awe.

He’s constantly asking you questions about your beastman traits, from your heightened senses to your climbing skills. “That’s so cool! Can you teach me?”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, though sometimes it gets a bit overwhelming when he tries to copy your movements (and fails spectacularly).

You find yourself softening around him, his pure-hearted nature making you feel oddly protective. He’s always showering you with compliments, and despite your rough exterior, you can’t help but be a little charmed by his sweetness.

He even tries to make matching flower crowns for you, though you’re not quite sure how to break it to him that they don’t really go with your vibe.

Chen’ya: The Mischievous Kindred Spirit

Chen’ya is someone who truly gets you. “Another cat in the mix, huh?” he teases as he appears upside down in a tree, his signature grin wide. “You’re not so bad. Almost as sneaky as me.”

The two of you share a certain playful, mischievous energy that makes for some chaotic fun around campus. You’re constantly trying to out-prank each other, leading to a sort of rivalry-friendship that keeps things exciting.

“Think you can catch me?” Chen’ya challenges before vanishing into thin air, and you’re always up for the chase, grinning like a feral cat.

He enjoys pushing your buttons, but you give as good as you get, earning his respect. “You’re pretty wild, huh? I like it,” he laughs, the two of you often ending up in trouble together—but always with a good story to tell.

Grim: The Feline Frenemy

Grim, naturally, sees you as competition from day one. “Hmph, I’m the only cat anyone needs around here!” he declares, puffing out his chest. Every time you cross paths, Grim tries to one-up you, whether it’s showing off how many cans of tuna he can down or demonstrating his “powerful” magic.

“Bet you can’t shoot fire like this!” he boasts as he sets a small flame dancing on the tip of his tail. You just shake your head, amused at his antics. Sometimes, though, you play along, sparring with him in mock battles or sneaking bits of food his way during mealtimes.

As much as he tries to assert his dominance, it’s clear he sees you as a partner-in-crime of sorts. “Alright, you’re not so bad for a giant furball,” he begrudgingly admits after you help him out of a particularly tricky situation involving some overzealous ghosts.

You’ve grown to enjoy the little gremlin’s antics, even if he refuses to admit how much he likes your company.

Crowley: The Ineffectual Handler

Headmaster Crowley is at a loss for how to handle your wild side. “Please, dear student, try not to destroy any more property!” he begs after you accidentally claw through some furniture during a particularly energetic moment.

You barely pay him any mind as he waves his arms dramatically. “Oh, but think of the expenses! The repairs!” he wails. “Why must you make my job so difficult?” You flash him an innocent smile, “Oops, sorry Headmaster.”

He flinches but quickly shifts into his over-the-top persona. “Ah, but I am a forgiving man! Just be more careful next time, won’t you?” He backs away quickly as you flex your claws playfully, clearly unsure how to handle your unpredictable nature.

Divus Crewel: Training the Beast

Crewel doesn’t tolerate any of your wild antics during his class. “Sit down and behave, pup,” he orders with a snap of his riding crop, his tone sharp as he glares at you over his glasses. “You may be a beast, but you will learn discipline under my watch.”

Surprisingly, you find yourself respecting his no-nonsense attitude. His strict demeanor keeps you in check—at least during his lessons—and though you grumble about it, there’s a small part of you that likes the challenge.

Crewel gives you pointed looks whenever you slip up, and when you’re particularly rambunctious, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you aside for a stern lecture.

“Remember, you’re not a wild animal,” he says, patting his ever-faithful Dalmatian beside him. “Though sometimes I wonder.”

Mozus Trein: The Disapproving Scholar

Professor Trein does not approve of your behavior, not one bit. “Such undisciplined conduct!” he mutters under his breath every time you act out in class.

His cat, Lucius, is constantly glaring at you from his perch, seemingly sharing his master’s distaste for your rowdy nature. “Beastmen are always so… difficult to manage,” Trein sighs as you grin mischievously at Lucius, who hisses back.

You’re not one to back down from a challenge, so whenever Trein isn’t looking, you and Lucius engage in little standoffs, making Trein exasperated.

“One of these days, you’ll learn the importance of decorum,” Trein scolds, though you can’t help but notice that Lucius seems to be warming up to your playfulness—just a little

Vargas: Ultimate Hype Man

Vargas loves your wild energy. “That’s what I’m talking about!” he cheers whenever you leap over obstacles or use your beastman abilities to ace his physical challenges.

“Now that’s a true athlete!” He encourages your every move, making you feel like a superstar during his training sessions. “Come on, show everyone what real power looks like!”

Vargas is always hyping you up, and you admit it feels good to have someone who appreciates your raw strength. He constantly pushes you to go harder and faster, treating you like his prized student.

“Beastman power, yeah!” You just smirk, playing along with his enthusiasm, knowing that you're pretty much is favourite.

Sam: The Mysterious Merchant's Favorite Customer

Sam finds you absolutely fascinating. Every time you step into his shop, he grins widely, the shadows in his shop almost seeming to stir with excitement.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite wild child,” he chuckles, waving you over to his counter. “Got something special just for you.” You’re intrigued, of course.

Sam always seems to have exactly what you need, whether it’s something to tame that unruly beastman fur of yours or an ancient charm for your next competition.

“I always get the most interesting customers,” he says with a wink. You suspect there’s more to him than meets the eye, but hey, as long as he’s got what you need, you won’t complain.

Plus, his shop has a certain mysterious charm that keeps you coming back.

Masterlist

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 11 months ago

Text

Green Eyed

Pairings - Rafe Cameron x Reader (Jj x reader & Jb x reader)

Summary - You want Rafe to admit you’re his girl so you set out to make him Jealous.

Warnings - drinking, language, oral, sex, choking, scratching, name calling, slight manhandling. 18+

The party was in full swing, red cups lined the kitchen bench and the stench of tequila wafted through the vents. You sat upon the couch, pressed between Rafe and Topper. Both of them talking above your head while you watched your best friend flirt with her coworker, you loved people watching. Especially at parties where they really let loose and show you their hidden personality.

“It’s rude to stare '' Topper jokes, his arm resting behind your head casually. Ignoring the glares Rafe was throwing his way, this usually caused an argument between the two of them. Rafe would say ‘don’t touch my girl’ and Topper would throw the ‘she isn’t your girl until you make her your girl’, it would just spiral from there. Honestly it was kind of draining, Rafe always telling people you were his girl but never officially making you his girl.

“So Topper, do you think Rafe is jealous?” You're adding fuel to the fire, smirking up at Rafe who’s brows are scrunched together in annoyance. You could practically feel the anger radiating off his broad frame.

“Why yes y/n, I do think he is jealous” Topper chuckles, his fingers dropping to your shoulder giving you a small squeeze. Rafe scoffs angling his body to face the both of you, anger still riddled his features.

“Please… I am not jealous” he states, no hesitation to his words. Your heart drops, did he really mean that? Or was he fucking around?

“Oh really?” Your eyebrows raise at him, a challenge. You were down for a challenge, you’d show him. “You wouldn’t mind if I did this then”.

Your lips are on Toppers before Rafe can even respond, your tongue invading his mouth. Your hands cup his jaw as his own hands greedily pull you in by your lower waist.

You feel his body move from beside you and when you pull away he’s storming through the party, fists curled at his side in anger. “That worked”.

“Sorry, I should have asked if that was okay” you say, giving Topper a soft smile which he reciprocates. “That’s alright, I’m down to make Rafe jealous any day. Bro needs to be knocked down a peg or two” he jokes, watching his best friend throw back shot after shot. The both of you laugh at how quick he was to leave, your feeling rather cocky until he’s pulling the girl you have such a deep hate for to his lips.

The breath is knocked out of you at the sight, his hands are feeling all over her body. She’s fucking loving it, practically humping him like a goddamn dog. He’s pushing her against a wall and slipping his fingers under her dress, the anger is bubbling within you.

“He’s a dickhead” Topper says beside you, his hand runs up and down your arm in a comforting friendly sort of way. “Don’t worry, I’m going to win this thing” you state, pushing yourself off the chair and storming into the dance floor.

There was no one else Rafe hated more than JJ Maybank and you knew he would be around here somewhere, your tapping Kiara on the shoulder giving her a smile which she reciprocates surprisingly. “Do you know where JJ is?” You ask, you don’t like your odds with her. She was fiercely loyal to her friends and hated Kooks to the core. She was a hit and miss when it came to being her friend, something you’ve dealt with since you were kids. “Probably outside smoking a joint”.

She’s turning back to her friends before you can ask anything else, you look back over at Rafe one last time and set out on your hunt.

Back inside Rafe is pulling away from the girl in front of him, turning back to the seat you once occupied. Grinning to himself when he sees you're gone, pushing the girl's skanky hands away from him and stalks back over to Topper. “That was low bro” Topper tutts, shaking his head at Rafe who rolls his eyes in response. “Where did she go?”.

“Oh you don’t want to know” Topper grumbles, Clearly unhappy you were going to use a pogue instead of a Kook. He was all good with this little game but didn’t like the idea of the pogues. “Tell me”

“Your not going to like it bro”

“Just fucking tell me!” Rafe shouts, fisting his friend's shirt in anger. “Went to look for Maybank”.

Rafes face is pure red, the vein in his neck threatening to burst. He shouts a few curse words and drops Topper back on the couch, storming his way through the house.

You're kissing JJ Maybank, someone you never thought you’d kiss. He always jokingly said how much you wanted him and would say he’d rock your world, you’d be begging to be a pogue, you just didn’t expect to be dropping to your knees in front of him.

“Right here?” JJ stutters, aware that you were not at all in private. Anyone could step behind the shade cloth and see you on your knees with his cock in your mouth. “Don’t be scared” you purred, stroking his cock slowly emitting a low groan from his chest.

Your tongue swirls around his head, swallowing him deep into your throat. Your cheeks hollow around him, tongue gliding up and down his shaft. He’s a moaning mess, fingers curled into your messy hair. Leaning against the wall for support, he was not surprised with how good you took his cock. “I always knew your pretty mouth was good for something” he groaned, rolling your eyes at his words you pushed him to the back of your throat, spit trailed down your chin.

Rafe was about ready to beat the absolute shit out of JJ, eyes staring hard from across the garden. His anger was radiating off him, his body shook with rage. “Fuck” he screamed, causing the bodies in the garden you scatter from him. Not wanting to be caught in the crossfire of Rafe Cameron.

The moment you hear his voice, you move faster against JJ, it only takes a few more strokes of your tongue and you're pushing him away and angling his cock to his exposed stomach. He’s shooting his load all over himself, eyes hooded and breath labored. He watched you pull yourself to your feet, wiping your mouth with your thumb. “Thanks” you breath, spinning in the spot you walk away from him and towards where Rafe and Topper stood.

You should feel slightly afraid with the way he’s staring at you, his eyes are dark with anger and the veins in his arms are straining hard. “Like the show?” You smirk, patting him on the chest. His fingers grip your wrist tightly and worry floods your veins at the tightness, screwing your face up in pain. Topper's hand comes up to squeeze Rafe’s shoulders, reminding him where he is and who he’s touching.

He lets your wrist go instantly but doesn’t say a word, you expect him to cave and admit he is jealous and finally ask you to be his girl. Instead he is once against stomping away, you roll your eyes hard and turn to Topper.

“He’s so damn stubborn! What the fuck!” You exclaim, snatching the drink from Topper you skull the half warm beer and pass him back the empty bottle. “I need something stronger”.

A fair few shots later, you're dancing like an absolute mad woman with Topper and your best friend. Glancing around the room looking for Rafe, expecting him to be lent against the wall watching. “Where is Rafe?” You question Topped, he shrugs and goes back to dancing.

You step away from them in search for him, suddenly feeling nauseas that he’s fucking some one else up stairs.

Your opening doors and searching high and low for him, the last bathroom stares you in the face. You knock but no one says anything, gripping the door handle you open the door. Rafe’s eyes meet yours and evil smirk paints upon his face, your eyes drop to the floor where you're supposed friends kneels in front of him. His cock burried deep in her throat, tears of pleasure soaking her cheeks.

You're slamming the door shut and running away from the bathroom, tears are threatening to spill. Topper and your best friend are nowhere to be seen, searching the crowd for anyone to hide with.

“What’s wrong” John B is questioning, his arm comes around your shoulder pulling you in for a hug. It was no secret that you and John B got along, he was the only pogue who didn’t just look at you as a piece of shit or a piece of meat. “Rafe”.

That’s all you need to say, John B nods and pulls you up the stairs. You follow closely behind him, walking into a room unoccupied. Moving over to sit on the bed. “He’s just so infuriating, he won’t admit he’s jealous, he won’t ask me to be his girlfriend” you blurt, covering your face with the palms of your hands. “I am purposely going out of my way to make him jealous and he just one ups me, I just caught him getting a fucking blow job from Beck! She’s meant to be my friend!”

John B takes a seat next to you and pulls you into a hug, your fingers crunch up the material of his shirt in anger. Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, he lets you complain and mumble into his shirt for a few moments until he pulls you away.

He’s kissing you to stop your rambling, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. Moving your body to straddle him, his hands run up the length of your thighs. “Let's make him jealous and you’ll even get an orgasm out of it”

You're nodding your head and pressing your lips to his, grinding your hips into him. You can feel him growing beneath you, your wetness begins to soak the material of your panties. Your grabby hands bunch up his shirt until he’s throwing it over his head, your fingers dancing across his chest and abs.

Dipping your hands low to unbutton his shorts, you step off him and pull your dress over your head. Your breasts sat bare, John B’s eyes trained in on your hard nipples.

“Just to make Rafe Jealous” you state, he nods his head and you step towards him. He grabs you by the waist and pushes you down onto the bed.

Rafe is wild, running around the house and outside looking for you. Topper follows close behind him, they both search for you. “You took it too far bro, if you just told her you were jealous she wouldn’t have run off” he says, rolling his eyes at his best friend. Rafe comes to a stop and turns his body, running the palm of his hand down his face. “Shut the fuck up… I already know that! She’s mine okay and I’m going to show her that she’s mine!” He growls, storming back off again. He runs up the stairs, pulling open doors. He just about falls to his knees at the sight of you laying upon the bed, somebody’s head between your thighs. Your face screwed up in pleasure, explicit moans fall from your open lips. His hand shoots out to stop Topper from walking in and seeing you naked upon a bed, your head turns to the door in shock at the sound of Topper grunting.

You're coming around John B’s tongue at the sight of Rafe watching, his eyebrows creased and he steps into the room. “You’ve had your fun, now get out before I break your goddamn face AGAIN” he growls, his eyes don’t leave yours. He knows if he sees John B’s lips glisten with your arousal he will pummel him. He watches as you sit up slowly, waving your hand towards John B. “It’s okay” you say, giving him a look of ‘this is what I wanted’, he nods his head and pulls his shorts back on and stumbles out of the room.

You reach for your dress, but Rafe is quick to snatch it from you. “Give it back” you exclaim, reaching for the material. Your bare chest presses to his, you could feel the thud of his heart rattling against you. The heat from his anger radiated from his body, he dropped the dress and enclosed his fingers around your throat.

“You know I don’t like to share” he growls, he walks you back until the back of your knees press to the bed. Tightening his grip around your throat, watching your face flush red. You let out a choked cry scratching at his forearm, he lets go slightly and pushes you down on the bed. “You were jealous Rafe, just fucking admit it!” You shout, you dig your nails into his forearm causing him to pull away from your throat. “Fucking admit it Rafe! Fucking admit that you want me to be your girl! If you don’t, I’m done” you warn, you press your foot into his chest and push him away from you. He stumbles back into the wall giving you the opportunity to grab your dress and run around the side of the bed.

“Admit it… I’ll put this dress on and I’ll walk out that door. You’ll never see me naked again” your chest is heaving, anxiety bubbles in your stomach. You weren’t sure he would admit, he was stubborn and could be such an asshole when he wanted to be. You weren’t sure you could take it if he let you leave, you were in love with him.

You both stare at one another, you begin turning the dress inside out. Before you can slip your arms back into the holes he is once again ripping it out of your hands, grabbing your jaw instead.

“Your mine… I own you” he growls, smashing his lips to yours. A moment of weakness takes over and you kiss him back, reaching around his neck with both arms. “Wait Rafe no.. Rafe stop” you mumble pushing on his chest, he wasn’t going to get away with it again. “Fuck! Y/n, I love you okay! You're my girl.. your mine!”.

You forget how to breathe, staring at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t expected him to say he loved you. His thumb caresses your bottom lip, your breath fanning over him. “I love you to” you manage to squeak out, your lips are on each other again.

Your naked body pressing against his, his greedy fingers grab and pull at your skin. His fingers reach between you to cup your cunt, already dripping for him. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I’m not going to punish you for letting fucking John B touch you!” He growls, biting down on your neck. You let out a squeal, legs opening just enough for his fingers to slip through and into your hole. “This pussy better be wet for me and not that fucking pogue” he states, his eyes have darkened with lust. His fingers roughly thrust deep into you, you let out a hiss when his thumb circles your throbbing clit. “Answer me”.

“It’s.. it’s wet for you Rafe!” You cry out, he drags his tongue down the length of your neck. Dropping just enough to enclose his mouth over your nipple, biting and sucking. You're trembling around him, nails digging deep into the skin of his shoulders. One of his hands holds your leg up, exposing your abused cunt to him.

“That’s it you dirty slut, fuck my hand. This is the only goddamn hand that’s going to be inside you until you die”

His fingers abruptly stop, pulling out of you sharply. The sound of your dripping cunt is heard over your gasp, your orgasm fizzles out leaving you high and dry. “Rafe! What the fuck!” You cry, he ignores you and begins taking his clothes off. His cock stands tall, he lets out a hiss when he fists the base. Pre cum drips down his hand, the tip is a deep red calling out to be sucked.

Your eyes meet again and he is quick to snatch you up, throwing you onto the bed like a rag doll. Moving your body so you were on all floors, ass up high and head down low. “I’m going to show you who fucking owns you and this sweet fucking pussy, do you understand me?”.

You're nodding your head furiously, your hair covering your face. A moment of sweetness he reaches down to gather your hair up and swipes it to the side exposing your face to him. That moment is quickly gone and he’s gripping your hips, he doesn’t give you a chance to steady yourself. Slamming his cock deep inside of you, no matter how many times you have fucked him he always stretches you out. Your cunt burns from the intrusion, his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. His own hips meet your ass roughly, his palm pushes against your back stopping you from looking back at him.

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pounds into you, his cock hits so deep you think you can feel him in your guts. Your cries are muffled by the blanket, tears stream down your face as you chase your high once again. “Fuck your pussy never ceases to amaze me”.

His grip is tight and you're sure you’ll have bruises in the morning, he’s relentless, letting all his anger out on your pussy. “So fucking wet”.

His words just cause a waterfall between your legs, dripping all over his thick cock. “Fuck… Rafe! Fuck!”.

Your walls are sucking him deep, pulsating around him. “Please.. oh god please” you cry, you want to cum so bad it’s to the point of pain now. It’s stirring in your belly, toes curling and blacked out vision.

“Not yet”.

He’s pulling out of you again, clenching your pussy down on nothing. That orgasm so ready to explode fades away again, he grips your hair and pulls you from the bed. He manhandles you until you sit upon his lap, his cock teasing your lips. “Ride me”.

It’s an order, and an order you shall take. You're sliding down his cock, bouncing against him for dear life. “Fuck.. that’s it your dirty slut! Taking me like an angel but really you're the devil”.

He’s kissing upon your neck and chest, leaving behind dark red bruises. Marking you as Rafe Cameron’s girl. You did not care, you wanted everyone to know you were his girl. Your tits bounce, pussy swallowing him until you can’t tell where you start or he ends. Buried so deep within you, you feel full. “Such a Fucking perfect pussy hmm”.

“Yeah.. oh god Rafe! I can’t take it! Please please Rafe… please let me cum” you beg, gripping onto his shoulders as you bounce hard and fast. “Go on, cum on this cock. Show me how much you love me”.

You do as you're told, you chase that high. You chase it until blood drips down his shoulder blades, your body trembling above him. “Oh Jesus fucking Christ.. oh fuck! Oh my fuck—”.

You screams of pleasure can be heard from the first floor, your eyes squeezed shut, Rafe has to physically move you above him as you black out from the pleasure. His own release following, burying himself deep inside of you.

It takes you a few moments to come back to reality, your forehead pressed to his shoulder. Taking deep breaths to steady your heart rate, moving just enough to look him in the eye.

“You called me a slut” he’s quick to fall back into the usual Rafe he was when around you. “I didn’t mean it”.

“Good because if I’m a slut so are you… you let my friend suck your cock” raising your eyebrow up at him in amusement, he closes his eyes for a split second and looks back at you. “I think we are even”.

“Yeah alright, let’s call it even. So you do love me?”

“I do love you”

“Suppose I love you too”.

Tag list- @laylasbunbunny @h34rtsformilli @lydiasxxsworld @hallecarey1 @mountloverr @outerbankspov @cameronmedia @crunchy-leaves77 @vigilanteshitposting @pedrisgatorade @phoenixssugarbaby @rafemotherfuckingcameron @s-we-e-t-t-ea @rafesthroatbaby @alltoomay @moremaybank @drewstarkeysbae @mrssturnioloo @darleneslane @tierra-0604 @xo-hayleyy-xo @ethereal0810 @eliana772 @gabys-gabs @applelovesposts @starkey-zegras @definitelynotholly-blog @renmpsworld @delicatepiratecloud @hdhdhsy @speedycomputerfury @tiacordelia02 @loverofdrewstarkey @bbycowboi @teresalesbian @imnotpretzelsstuff @its-ria-07 @jscameron @rafegirly (If you no longer want to be tagged please let me know and if you want to be tagged please let me know)

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schoenpepper · 2 months ago

Text

Here Kitty Kitty Kitty (Housewardens)

Intro: You're a wild little thing, aren't you? Let's see how the NRC dorm leaders deal with you, then.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, not much i think idk tell me if i should pop a warning somewhere, it's reaaally long

A/N: My goodbye gift before I die in college. Not that I'd be too busy though, my prof list isn't even complete yet. Hollywood lied to me about college it all sucks (not even started first day yet). Oh this was a request btw so I hope you like it anon. Even though I'm not sure I really followed through with the request I'm sorry.

Masterlist

Headcanon order (on the what he thinks of you part):

Fierce, reckless, territorial, soft to people close to you

You tried to tell Neige you weren’t interested in the National Arcane Academy Culture Fair, you really did. But your best friend is a lot less of a pushover than he seems to be, hanging onto your arm and pulling you right to the middle of the chaos. NRC is dark, dreary, and every corner seems to be black and covered with spiderwebs. Which, honestly, is quite the refreshing turn from the bright white glitter you’d gotten used to in RSA.

“Their science club is doing a cafe!”

The black-haired, starry-eyed boy points at a spot on the map. “It’s not too far from this place, maybe we can drop by and try out their treats.” he smiles happily. You look away (two years is not enough time to get used to the sparkles that magically appear whenever he beams) and sigh. “Where are the dwarves? Won’t they enjoy going to the cafe more than I would? I told you I was just fine sitting on a bench somewhere until the SDC.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re right. Where are they—” you pull him back as he turns, but not before he bumps into someone.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking…”

“Hm? It’s fine, oh hey, aren’t you that superstar on the news?”

The ginger is getting uncomfortably close to your friend’s personal space, so you get in front of Neige, shielding him from this nosy NRC student.

“Y/N!” Neige gives you a worried look, tugging on your sleeve, “I should apologize.”

“What? He said it’s fine already.”

“Ace, are you disturbing these visitors?”

At the sound of the new voice, the young man in front of you straightens up almost unnecessarily straight, back taut and expression nervous. A short student with strawberry red hair is accompanied by a tall student with glasses and green hair. The redhead seems very uptight, with the way he drags down this ‘Ace’ person to his level by the collar to chastise him from apparently ‘disturbing’ you. Neige waves from behind you, trying to stop them while making sure not to leave your circle of protection. “No, we bumped into him, it was my fault really.”

“Ah, I see,” he nods as he lets go of the other person’s collar, “my apologies that you had to see that shameful act. If you need anything, please let the culture fair committee members know, you will recognize them by this badge.”

“Cool, but we’re just going to the cafe. Thanks for the help, bye,” you cut the conversation short and pull Neige away.

“Y/N, that was very rude.”

You shrug, “What was I supposed to do? Didn’t you see that guy has an on and off switch for exploding like an active volcano? Did you want to be on the receiving end of his next outburst?”

“Don’t be so judgmental, Y/N, you barely know the person,” Neige sighs.

“I don’t need to know him.”

Exchange program:

It turns out that you did, in fact, need to know him. Neige somehow managed to convince you to sign up for an exchange student program between RSA and NRC, so you got sorted into Heartslabyul and the guy you insulted at the culture fair is now your housewarden.

Ace and Deuce are okay, if not a few cells short of a brain sometimes. You do enjoy getting caught up in their shenanigans whenever the dorm leader and his eight hundred something rules get a tad bit too stifling. At some point, their dumb (affectionate) tactics manage to work their way into your heart, so you begrudgingly call them friends.

You think Cater’s a good guy, if not a bit social-media-obsessed. You don’t mind having him nearby because he generally just chats about random things. As long as you manage to put up with him asking for a pic every once in a while, he’s not awful. Trey is a comforting presence. He may or may not have Pavlov’d you with the way he always has a sweet treat with him, making you calmer and more susceptible to behaving within his general vicinity.

Riddle is a whole ‘nother thing altogether; you make him mad. Er, madder than usual, at least. Something must be in the tea in Heartslabyul because you and the housewarden in the same room is a guarantee for a beheading. Usually you, but there have been a fair number of innocent victims who’d just happened to get caught up in your squabbles. Riddle is a flame and you’re a tankful of gasoline, always with a witty comeback or something else that’s sure to make every situation worse.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Think a dry, wooden cottage smack dab in the middle of the woods and a wildfire. That’s how you and Riddle get along. You’re hot tempered; pot, meet kettle. You’re sarcastic and snippy, traits that he most certainly does not appreciate. Every time he’s lecturing you about something or the other, you speak. And every word that comes out of your mouth makes him want to collar you.

…Another one? How did his dorm somehow get stuck with the most ‘act first, think later’ individuals? You give Riddle a headache, but don’t worry, he’s all too used to it. He will bail you out of trouble and every stupid situation you find yourself in, but also, he will assign you a 5000 word apology essay each time he does.

Riddle gets it. It’s a sign of disrespect when people touch your things without your explicit consent, and he’d get mad too if it was him in that situation. Does, however, do a double-take when he sees you tackle someone to the ground after you hear them insult Neige, screaming something about “your people”. Turns a blind eye.

Since…since when have you and that duo been so close? He’s not mad (for once). But he does feel rather…upset. You’re always such a spiky individual, so to see you almost melting into the couch, head on Deuce’s lap as he patted your hair and legs over Ace’s, it’s almost surreal. He’s not angry, no, but then why does he still feel unhappy?

Love story climax:

“I just don’t understand. Why do I feel so uncomfortable when I see Y/N together with other people?”

Trey hums from where he’s standing in the kitchen, letting Riddle know that he’s listening while whipping the bowl of cream.

“You’re smart,” Trey chuckles, “you’ll figure it out.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and looks back down at the chopping board, cutting off the top of another strawberry. It wasn’t an illness, but maybe if he diagnosed it like one, he could arrive at a proper conclusion. He mentally retraces his steps and every unpleasant feeling that had welled up inside him. He feels okay, good maybe, when he sees you. He gets mad when you retort while he’s trying to discipline you, but even then, he seems to have started to find it rather…cute? And he gets unreasonably anxious when you’re so close to your friends.

…No. No. Absolutely not.

Riddle Rosehearts is not in love with you.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

You still make him mad, but now instead of being collared, you just need to coax him a little and this strawberry shortcake is ready to fold like a collapsible tent. Make it up to him by being sweet and loving him lots, okay? If it’s to other people, he doesn’t really care as long as it doesn’t get violent. You are exempt from the apology letters though, congrats (he thinks that time writing them could be better spent with him).

Riddle probably needs heart medication at some point, you’re going to drive him either insane or to his inevitable death. He gets a lot more protective of you now because you’re his partner, but please please please at least try not to get hurt. Or try to consider if you might get hurt before doing something. Or how about this, you call him up before you make any decision at all?! Yeah. Heart attack.

Honestly, he probably doesn’t realize that you have a tendency to be overly possessive and territorial of him. Riddle isn’t exactly the type of guy to frequently get love confessions (he should be), you know? So the only time he nottices is when you catch him in the middle of equestrian club meetings or something, and he’s just a step too close to some newbie. Tells you to keep it down and assures you, his love for you is real and unchanging.

Happy guy. He thinks he’s silly when he gets so giddy at the smallest things you do, like kissing the back of his hand, but he can’t exactly stop the somersaults his heart does whenever you’re being so affectionate with him. Regardless, it’s quite rude to make public displays of affection, so be reserved and try to keep it all in private. Will blush at every little thing until like, two years into the relationship.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Neige’s words are cut short when you tackle the hyena beastman to the ground. He looks at you, horrified, and was likely about to chastise you before you pulled out a familiar leather wallet from the beastman’s pocket. “Thief,” you hiss, “you picked the wrong students to mess with.”

“Tsk, [laugh with me].”

The hyena rolls around and you’re unable to control your own movements, rolling with him. You’re lying on the ground when the magic snaps but he’s already running away, Neige’s wallet in hand. “Oh no you don’t!”

You weave through the crowd of students and booths, trying to keep your eyes trained on the mop of caramel hair that was zooming farther and farther away from you. You finally spot him by one of the stages, where he sprints by a tall lion beastman who catches him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten. You come to a stop, panting lightly as you glare at the lion beastman. “Is this guy a friend of yours? He has something of mine, so you better have him give it back quick or I’ll—”

“Ruggie,” The lion yawns, “no stealing during the culture fair.”

“Finders keepers!”

“Ruggie.”

“Fine.”

You get Neige’s wallet back and immediately turn tail and leave. These NRC students are freaks (no stealing during the culture fair? then it’s okay to steal any other time?).

Exchange program:

Something something it’s better to make friends than enemies. While not a saying you’ve ever given a fuck about before, it’s hard not to care when it led you to where you are now. Due to a mass voting in RSA for whoever to send to the exchange program, you’ve been bolted out as the sacrificial lamb (that’s what you get for always picking fights). Savanaclaw takes you in because you wrestle one of their dorm members to the ground on your very first day.

Jack Howl is probably one of the closest things you’ll see to another RSA student in this place. You get along well with him because he doesn’t take your quips at face value (or rather, he doesn’t care for your insults and dry sarcasm). Ruggie takes a bit more getting used to, but he’s a really cool dude when you manage to keep all your valuables away from arm’s reach.

And Leona…he’s like a stray cat. And you’re also a stray cat. And you’re in the same dark alley, coexisting together. You ignore each other most of the time unless the other gets a tad bit too close. It’s not too bad when the boundaries are in place.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

He’s too tired and sleepy most of the time to deal with your temper. Not as if you can do anything about it though, try as you might, you can never win against Leona. You can talk crap about how lazy he is or whatever, he doesn’t care, but whenever you even attempt to fight him you’re already subdued one way or another. Leona thinks you should pick and choose your battles well.

While Leona is a big believer of instincts, there’s a fine line between believing and charging in like a bull seeing red at the first tingle of a gut feeling. He’ll let out a sigh but still, he’ll fish you out of trouble and claim you’re bothering his naptime and he’ll totally leave you to fend for yourself the next time the consequences of your stupid actions find you (he will not).

He’s a lion, of course he’s territorial. So he understands your need to stake your claim on a certain place or item, as long as it’s not something he’d already claimed as his own. Leaves you about it. Territorial about people though? Same thing. Do as you will, he can’t muster the energy to care.

A low growl is emitted from his chest, pupils constricted into pinpricks, ears and tail stiff—Leona isn’t dumb. He knows that the instinctual actions of his body mean something, and in this case, it means he’s annoyed watching you be all buddy buddy with Ruggie. You, the little porcupine you are, laughing so easily with the guy you swore was your enemy, it makes him gnash his teeth in anger (envy).

Love story climax:

He can’t get you out of his head.

The few months you’ve been at NRC, you’ve started to become an existence that he didn’t mind constantly having around. He’d found you annoying at first, so why is it that now, just seeing you so happy with Ruggie is enough to drive him insane? He keeps his eyes closed but he can’t sleep. You’re still lingering in his vision, a hazy mirage by the moonlight of the savanna. Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

Why can’t he stop thinking about your hair and how soft it looked to touch? Why can’t he stop thinking about how incredible your skin would feel on his? Why can’t he stop thinking about your lips…?

Fuck.

Leona rolls over in his bed, burying his face in a pillow. Maybe if he suffocated to death he wouldn’t be haunted by thoughts of you. But, if you’re so willing to be close to Ruggie, why not Leona? He could be your…friend too. Do you already think of him as a friend? You tend to run to him with that stupid smile and chatter away even when he tells you to go away, is that a sign that you saw him as some sort of confidant? Whatever.

Leona’s not good with emotions, but he’s the farthest thing from a coward.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Okay wildfire, Leona likes it, but you need to tone it down a bit unless you want your ass handed back to you on a platter. No he’s not threatening you, it’s just that you should already know the folks in NRC aren’t scared of fights. No he doesn’t care that you’re not scared of fights. Stop picking fights. If you sass him back enough he will sling you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

There’s a reason why he always has one hand on you, whether on your hip or the back of your neck. It’s not because he’s a clingy kitty (stop teasing, he’s not a cat!), rather, it’s so he can easily stop you when a situation arises and you decide on something he wishes you didn’t decide on. Now that you’re in a relationship, he’ll sit you down and start a long discussion on why you should learn to think before you act.

Let’s get something straight, you are part of his territory, not the other way around. He’s just as protective and possessive of you as you are to him, if not more, so pretty much everyone knows to book it when they see you two together. Any poor soul who has a crush on either of you quickly get the picture.

Tsk, you’re so clingy (affectionate). Unlike most guys on the list, Leona doesn’t give two shits about other people, ergo, he doesn’t care when you kiss or touch him in public. In fact, he encourages it. Go ahead, mark him up. But if he reciprocates, he’ll tell you he’s just doing what you’ve been doing, so you have no right to refuse.

You knew it was instantly trouble when the person he bumped into had all the tells of a bad mood. You push Neige behind you while he apologizes profusely to the stranger. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry!” His words obviously went unheard because this annoyingly tall NRC student only grimaced, and you know from experience that when someone bares their teeth at you, it means they haven’t forgiven your pitiful apology.

“You can’t see where you’re going, hah, maybe I should squeeze you ‘til your eyes pop out? Maybe you’ll see it then?”

Let it be known that though you were half this asshole’s size, that did not mean you were going to take this lying down.

“Hey, back off. He said it was an accident.”

You feel Neige tugging on your sleeve. “Hey, Y/N let’s just—”

“I don’t care if it was an accident, I’m in a slump and you just made it worse, y’know?”

“Well I don’t care if you don’t care. You better back off before I take your slump and shove it down your stupid—”

Another unfamiliar figure approaches, this one shorter than the asshole, with purplish-white hair and glasses, yet somehow looking just as dangerous with the kind smile he has on. He gives the guy in front of you a very pissed-off look behind the carefully maintained grin. You think he might be trying to whisper, but it’s not very quiet.

“Floyd! I told you to sell the drinks while Jade and I are gone, what are you doing here?”

“Ehhh, but I didn’t feel like selling drinks.”

They’re gone before you even know what’s going on.

The interaction only cemented what you’d known before you even got here; everyone in NRC is a weirdo.

Exchange program:

Apparently, someone’s great idea for a prank is signing you up to be an exchange student to NRC. So, hurray.

You’re plopped into Octavinelle because the very reliable headmaster of NRC drew lots from some magical (rigged) thing. It doesn’t take you too long to realize that the quick-to-violence guy you’d met a little while back is one of the frontrunners of the dormitory. Thankfully, your second meeting has Floyd in a better mood than before, and he decides that you’re interesting before bestowing you your very own nickname; catfish. You do not appreciate it.

Jade is easy enough to get along with, you’ve discovered it’s good to just do as he says and as long as he has nothing to gain from it, he won’t torment you (too much). Though, he does make your hackles rise every once in a while because dear Seven he gives you the heebie-jeebies, even despite the perfectly polite thing he has going on.

Azul, it takes you way too long to befriend. He starts off avoiding you almost entirely, like you’re a contagious disease (if only you knew). You’re not the type to suck up to anyone, and definitely not the type to force close proximity with someone who seems to hate you, so you leave him alone. Eventually, one potion explosion, two torn contracts, and one messed up lounge later, you and Azul become acquaintances. Friends, maybe. Uh, tentatively.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Azul thinks you’re unnecessarily high-strung. Well, where do you get the energy to always be so combative and hot-tempered? He’d rather stay away from people like you when business isn’t involved. He’s one to always keep calm and cool after all, he doesn’t think he’d get along with you at all.

Your tendency to act according to your nature and intuition and just general however you feel like acting, it’s an enigma for sure. Azul prefers a plan and at least three other backup plans, so you running headfirst into any situation makes him sigh and take another step back from you. Sevens know it might be contagious (does not call you stupid to your face, but to your back? Absolutely).

The first time he saw you almost bite Floyd’s head off for just touching your things without your permission, it was enough for him to put another strike on his record. Oh dear, you really are a handful, aren’t you? Does not realize your territorialism extends to people until Jade showed him what happened to the last student that tried messing with one of the dwarves.

Azul thinks he needs new glasses. Is that you? Looking so sweet and cuddly with your friends? Really? He gets flashbacks to when you almost scratched his eyes out that time he tried roping you into one of his contracts. Now seeing you all clingy with that celebrity, he feels…uncomfortable. It must be because you’re acting strange (he’s not jealous, thank you very much).

Love story climax:

“Yeah their food is crazy good,” you grin at Neige, helping him choose a few items on the menu, “as long as the bill is paid, at least.”

While Azul is flattered at your actions to recommend the Mostro Lounge to your closest friend who’d dropped by for a visit, there’s an annoying, itchy, gnawing feeling in one of his hearts that makes him unable to sit still. He pushes your original waiter aside and approaches your table with his little notepad, shooting you the most charming smile he’s able to give. He taps his pen against the paper to get your attention. “Y/N, I’m so glad to see you stop by again. I assume you’ll have the usual?”

“Oh, hey Azul,” he does not fail to notice the way your tone gets softer with him, “yes please. And can you add some other dishes for my friend here? Maybe two or three of your most popular ones, just so he can try them.”

Azul nods, jotting down your order. Then, he places a hand over his chest, grinning, “Of course, and just for you, it’s free of charge!”

It doesn’t take him long to confess now that he knows you like him too.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Thinks it’s hot 100%, he will die on this hill. While he still doesn’t appreciate you constantly getting into fights with other people, seeing you angry is so interesting to him. Also, you turn down the sarcasm with him, so he can fully enjoy seeing you tear someone a new one. Will not stop you unless it’s beginning to get physical.

His hair is about to turn white. Except, it’s already white. Anyway, the point is that you stress him out very much, as you being reckless means you tend to get into situations that isn’t in his Plan A. Or B. Or C. He bails you out of trouble with a calm smile and an eloquent speech, and it’s usually enough to resolve the situation. This doesn’t mean he likes you having virtually no self-control or self-reflection skills though, you’ll have to have a long talk with him (communication is key).

Azul thinks it’s cute when you let him pop your personal bubble, and he’s very happy to watch you try to pick a fight with anyone who gets too close to either you or him (keyword being try, he does his best to stop any actual fights from happening). He doesn’t mind you seeing him as part of your ‘territory’, as long as he gets something in return (and you don’t get too suffocating).

Watching you curl up into him whether in public or private gets him flustered, but especially in public. Angelfish, the big bad businessman has a reputation to uphold, you know? Still, he can’t find it in himself to push you off when you’re just so adorable like this, knowing how feisty you typically are. Do try to save it for private spaces though, he would also like to cling onto you shamelessly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

Something is off about the person Neige bumped into. Call it a gut feeling, or maybe it was the way the brown haired student was instantly alert, sweeping the white haired boy to a ‘safer’ distance before deciding on whether or not it was worth it to actually face you and Neige. You’re not sure what exactly is wrong, but your intuition is saying that this is not the kind of person your all-too-naive friend is supposed to fraternize with.

“It’s fine.”

His answer is curt, and he steers the other boy away immediately. You share a look with Neige, when you click your tongue and pull him along to find a map.

“They seemed nice.”

You hope there will not come a day when your friend is at the mercy of people with bad intentions, as it is very likely that he’d be eaten alive. “They seemed like bad news. Everyone here seems like bad news.” You reply, finally finding the botanical gardens where the cafe had been set up. You sit across from Neige at a table where some student takes your orders. Neige asks for a caramel macchiato with extra caramel and some macarons, and you opt for something a little less diabetic. “Don’t say that, Y/N. They didn’t even do anything to us, even though I was at fault for bumping into them. Isn’t that nice?”

You roll your eyes, “It’s nice that they didn’t, what, beat us up? Have higher standards, LeBlanche.”

“They seem like they’d make for good friends, that’s all,” he laughs softly.

“You think that of everyone.”

“Maybe you should give it a try.”

Exchange program:

Neige’s great plan to get you more “accustomed” to people is to throw you to NRC in the school’s newly-cooked-up exchange student program. You can’t stop him, because he really is only thinking of the best for you, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it, right? You get put in Scarabia because they have a lot of room.

Jamil is…okay. He’s a lot of things, but mostly, he’s not someone you’d ever find back at RSA. He’s a stressed out nanny most of the time, but there are a few moments when he feels more morally gray than people should probably be.

Kalim, however, you get along with splendidly. With him as your housewarden, you almost feel like you’re back with your normal circle of friends. Except Kalim is like, horrendously richer than them (and a bit more airheaded, though you think that could still be debated).

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Sorry, but most of your sarcasm is going to bounce right off Kalim’s head. He will not notice it unless you’re really blunt about it, in which case, why? It’s not easy to be mad at someone who’s so genuine all the time, and being unnecessarily mean to him is just, well, mean. It’s best to just go along with him. You can’t win against this type of person.

Twinning! No, seriously, you’re two cookies cut from the same dough, with the exact same cookie cutter. You and Kalim are exactly the same in this kind of thing, and it drives Jamil absolutely insane. Sorry to say but whatever trouble you stir up you’re going to have to face yourself; Kalim is no help, he rarely even has to face the consequences of his own actions, much less yours.

Kalim is the kind of guy to unintentionally get too close, like, all the time. No he doesn’t mean it, but it also doesn’t help when your instincts go nuts because he borrowed a pencil without asking. He does notice that you’re very protective of your stuff, but he doesn’t really notice what he does most of the time, though he tries to respect your boundaries. Does not notice it translates to people.

Oh hey! You’re hanging out with Neige, that’s so cool, can he come with? No…? You want some time with your friend because he’s only visiting for a short time? That’s cool…yeah, he can give you guys space. It’s not very often that the Al-Asim heir finds something that makes him feel disappointed or upset, but this is certainly one of them. And the worst part is, he doesn’t even know why.

Love story climax:

You’re such a sight to behold.

Kalim wonders if Neige knows how lucky he is, able to touch you and hug you like he does. You don’t even fight back, only returning the embrace with a smile. There’s a sharp pain in Kalim’s chest and he wonders what he has to do in order for you to let him that close. He’s your friend too, isn’t he? It’s…so unfair.

“Kalim?”

Jamil approaches him with a worried expression. “Are you okay? You’ve been staring at the fountain for a while.”

He sees the change in Jamil’s face when he notices that it’s you sitting by the fountain. “I see.” The words make Kalim laugh. He rests his elbows on the railing and leans forward, resting his chin on his palms. Of course, Jamil would know. Jamil would understand. Jamil can see the blooming feelings in his chest that he himself took far too long to get.

He wonders if you know.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being in a relationship does not make Kalim able to detect sarcasm. If you ever try to sass him, he will take it at face value. Anyway, now that you’re this close, it’s easier to understand that with his background, Kalim has never wanted for anything, and no one ever really says no to him. He has a tendency to not hear what you’re saying sometimes, only believing in what he wants to hear. You’re going to need to find some time to discuss this with him.

The only way that this would differ from when you were just strangers/friends with Kalim, is that Jamil is now kind of obligated to help you out when you find yourself in situations you can’t (and likely don’t want to) talk your way out of. At some point he just hypnotizes you to stay out of trouble, at least for a weekend, so he can breathe. Between you and Kalim, he’s probably about to overblot again.

Are you jealous? Kalim laughs it off and hugs you, promising he only loves you and no one else! It’s unlikely he understands the nuances, but Jamil assures you it’s better that way. Your protectiveness goes a bit unnoticed, if only because he’s used to bodyguards and being protected, and it’s also very unlikely that he notices your possessiveness.

Kalim lives for displays of affection! Physical touch, gift giving, words of affirmation—his most fluent language is every love language ever. You want to hug in the middle of a crowd? Sure, he might lose you in the throng of people, after all. Want to kiss? Why not? Make sure not to miss his lips, okay? Private, public, with an audience or alone, Kalim will love you and he will do it in a way that you will never doubt his feelings for you.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t—oh! You’re one of Vil’s friends, right?” Neige holds out a hand to the purple-haired boy for a handshake while you look on with a raised brow. “Um, Epel, I think, is what he called you?”

This Epel kid puts on a smile and shakes Neige’s hand, but it’s easy to tell it’s fake. He’s looking around nervously, as if to ascertain that no one sees him holding hands with Neige, and he takes it back as quickly as he’d put it out. “Right, I need to go, it was nice seeing you,” Epel laughs awkwardly and attempts to leave. He’s rooted in place once his name is called out by someone tall, blonde, and annoyingly pretty. You know from watching your friend’s works that this is the person who often played his rival; Vil Schoenheit. He does not give you the impression that he considers Neige a friend the way that Neige sees him go be.

“Epel, it’s time to go back for rehearsals,” he snaps at the younger boy, before putting on a perfectly practiced smile as he turned to Neige, “apologies for the trouble, we’ll leave you be now.”

And they walk away.

Your friend next to you is waving happily while you cross your arms.

(Clearly, that pompous-looking peacock has something against Neige.)

“It’s a shame, I wanted to introduce you to Vil, but he seems very busy.”

You scoff lightly, but at the very least, you try to mask your distaste. There’s no need for you to tell him that Vil likely hates his guts and the very dirt he steps on, not unless the other makes a move on it. “I don’t need to know anyone here,” you roll your eyes and hold onto his wrist, pulling him away, “let’s just find that cafe. Botanical gardens, right?”

“Right!”

Exchange program:

Due to a few…accidents, the faculty members of RSA have chosen you to represent the school in an exchange student program (they want you shipped off to NRC, like, bad). Pomefiore is the very lucky winner of the “which dorm should this kid be in” raffle, which means hell for you.

Epel is surprisingly funny. He’s probably one of the prettiest people you’ve ever met (and RSA is filled with pretty boys), yet his natural way of doing things is so crude, for lack of a better word. He feels good to chill with, and escape from all the prissiness that the dorm (and its housewarden) has to offer. Rook, though, you stay far away from. Sometimes when you’re alone, you feel like someone is watching you. And it’s probably him.

If there was anyone in this entire school that you absolutely loathe, it’s the world-renowned model actor blah blah blah Vil. He cannot stand your flippant attitude and you cannot stand his everything.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Vil does not know who Jesus Christ is, but I assure you that if he did, the name would be on his tongue 24/7. You don’t stand a chance in a verbal or physical fight with Vil, so you’ve learned to settle for making stupid comments behind his back. That he can still hear. He finds you very frustrating to work with, but he does love a challenge. You’ll learn to be more elegant by the time he’s done with you (you will not).

Part of the ‘does not give a fuck’ club. Whatever mess you find yourself in is your business, do you understand? He’s not one for spoon feeding, potato, so all your problems are your own to bear. Vil thinks that basing everything off intuition and instinct is straight up barbaric, but unfortunately for both you and him, you can’t be moved to Savanaclaw.

What are you, an animal? He can understand not wanting other people to touch your possessions, but must you hiss like some sort of raccoon? Fine, he’ll back off if he must. Your possessiveness of people doesn’t escape him, he just doesn’t think it’s any of his business. However, your actions now, in part, reflect Pomefiore which is under his rule and jurisdiction. Watch how you act.

It’s such an ugly feeling, and one that Vil refuses to define. And it’s Neige again, why is it always Neige? He knows you’re close but must you be that close? You’re always against people being in your ‘bubble’, so when he sees you all over that doe-eyed rival of his, it leaves him seething. Stop holding his hand, stop whispering so close to his ear, stop ignoring Vil…please…

Love story climax:

“Mira, Mira, who is the most beautiful of them all?”

Since he already knows the answer, why does he keep asking? Vil’s never pegged himself as a masochist. Then, what the hell is he doing to himself?

“Searching. The account with most comments tagged as beautiful, Neige LeBlanche.”

…Of course.

Why is it that Neige can get what he can’t have every single time? He works just as hard, doesn’t he? If not more. Neige is the protagonist, Vil is the antagonist. Neige is the hero, Vil is the villain. Neige is your best friend.

Who is Vil to you? Do you even think about him half the amount of times that he thinks of you? Is he a stranger? An acquaintance? A naggy dorm leader that you wish to avoid as much as possible?

He’s come second to your best friend one too many times.

He’s not giving up your heart, not to Neige, not to anyone.

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Congratulations, you’ve been upgraded from annoying (derogatory) to annoying (affectionate)! While he doesn’t enjoy your cattiness too much, Vil does like a bit of bite. He’ll indulge you just a little, everything’s fine in moderation, after all. Just make sure you know when to tone it down, darling.

Vil is a responsible person, and he expects you to be responsible too. If you pick a fight all on your own, he has no qualms letting you face the consequences by yourself. But he’s not heartless. If it really is too much for you to handle, or if it’s not your fault, he’s more than happy to help you mediate things (or beat someone up idk).

Jealousy isn’t pretty, but he rather likes the color on you. This man is beloved by literal millions so you’ll have a hard time keeping him all to yourself. But if it’s any consolation, his love is all yours, alright? Vil wouldn’t mind a possessive lover just as long as you know your place. If you think of him as part of your territory? Well, why not?

Vil Schoenheit has a reputation to keep. He can’t just let you do whatever; he’s a public figure. So all your lovey dovey-ing will have to wait until you and him are behind closed, locked, chained doors with shut windows covered by heavy curtains, do you understand? If you do, then feel free to adore him as much as you want to. He will return your affection in kind.

“I didn’t notice you there, sorry!”

“It’s fine…gosh these normies are so clumsy, can’t even walk without tripping over their own feet…though I guess I’m not one to talk.”

Your sense of hearing has an impeccable range, at least, more than enough to hear this walking matchstick’s grumbling that he’d likely meant to keep to himself. You glare at him and push Neige back, rolling up your sleeves. This guy might be tall, but he’ll bend to your level with a nice kick at the groin. “What’d you call my friend, you blue-raspberry-flavored lightstick?”

“Y/N, stop it!”

He squealed, seemingly panicking as he backed away. “What the, I say a few words and you pick a fight irl? That’s so lame.”

“I swear to the Seven if another stupid word leaves your—”

“Threat detected.”

A cute, blue-haired (blue-flamed?) robot kid is pointing some pretty big laser guns your way, so you’re forced to take a step back, watching him slowly lower them. “Hello, please refrain from threatening my big brother, or I’ll have to annihilate you.” The kid warns you with a chipper tone of voice, but he’s glaring at you harshly.

“Y/N,” Neige whispers, “let’s just go.”

You weigh your options and decide that, even though you can probably take that six-foot gremlin, it’s very unlikely you’ll come out unscathed with the adorable death machine in the mix. You send the man one last glare while your friend pulls you away from possible homicide.

Exchange program:

The greenhouse going up in flames was definitely not your fault. Uh, totally unrelated sentence aside, you’ve been chosen to represent RSA to go on an exchange student program to NRC. Because no one from Ignihyde was at the meeting (physically), they couldn’t exactly turn you down. Most people ignored the panicking tablet, anyway.

Ortho is a sweetheart, you’ve found, when you’re not threatening to de-ball his beloved older brother. But the catch is that you can’t spend much time with him without also spending time with Idia. Which, ew.

Your housewarden is someone you barely ever saw. But you’ve taken it upon yourself to annoy him as much as humanly possible (no you’re not petty who said that), so you usually camp outside his door to spook him from ever leaving. This escalates to occasional talks through the door, which turns into him slipping you a controller, to him realizing you can’t play if you don’t see the screen, to actually letting you hang out in his room.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

Make no mistake, Idia’s tongue is just as poisonous as yours, if not more. The combination usually leads to trash talk that once made Ortho splash the two of you with cold water. He thinks you’re funny, but you’re both petty so most verbal fights turn to you two swatting at each other like children.

Bro, don’t you have a strategy for every level? You can’t win if you just wing it all the time, y’know? Idia’s the type of gamer who spends several hours at a game’s wiki page just to find the best route to the finish line, so you being as you are kinda gives him a headache. And look, he’s not helping you out, okay? None of his business.

What…you chill in his room but don’t let him have some of your honey butter potato chips? That’s lame af, but like whatever. He notices the people thing when he sees you through one of the cameras (that he did not plant nuh uh) in school, about to commit murder because someone called Ortho things neither you nor Idia appreciate. Hey, he’s rooting for you.

It took him like three weeks just to be able to sit two meters away from you without you bitching about it, so Idia is, understandably, a bit peeved when he sees you practically when he finds you hugging Ortho. He shouldn’t be annoyed, it’s Ortho, for sevens’ sake! But it’s not like he can just stop feeling frustrated. He can’t stop feeling disappointed. He can’t stop feeling…wait, what is he feeling? Jealousy? No! Absolutely not!

Love story climax:

He has to look away when you turn your head, lest he get caught in the act of totally-not-staring. He tries to focus on the game and on the way his character is moving on the screen.

But why is it that he feels like it’s a waste of time?

He loves gaming! The online world is his passion, his everything. But when you’re sitting right beside him, he thinks he’d prefer to admire you, adore you, instead of beating his high score at Kingdom Odyssey: Rise of Dragonheart. He takes another peek at your pretty face, glowing by the light of the screen. Your features morph into one of excitement, and he feels his heart lightening too when he catches your bright smile.

“I won! You lost, suck it!”

He doesn’t even mind you gloating, because your smug smirk is just…

Ew. Gross. Blegh.

It’s like he got turned into a shoujo manga character right there. Idia turns back to the screen. “Dumb luck, noob. Next round it’s gg for you.”

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

He doesn’t fight with you as often…but he still fights with you. Nothing serious of course, but trolling each other has become as much of a love language as quality time is. Idia really does enjoy trash talking with you the most, if only because you turn it into a competition. When you lose, he makes you do something silly. Like uh, marrying his character in Sunfall Brookes…

Worry not! Idia, being the super awesome and totally cool genius he is, has whipped something up so that Ortho is behind you at every turn. He can’t support your stupidity irl most of the time, but having his little brother (who is fully equipped with deadly laser guns) back you up is probably good enough. So it’s fine, you’re fine, worse comes to worst Ortho’ll pick you up and fly you right back to your loving boyfriend (who may or may not be waiting to hear about your stupid actions).

While you do share your potato chips now, it seems to have become a bit more troublesome. Like, what do you mean does he love Moonkiss Eclipse the Magical Sparkle Girl more than you? Of course he loves you more (pssssst Ortho can you hide the body pillow before my s/o pops me into a body bag). Your main enemy will be the thousands of fictional characters that Idia loves, so good luck!

Idia’s not like, super great at public displays of affection. He’s not great in public, in general. Your clinginess and kisses and whatnot will have to wait until you’re back at either his or your room, ‘kay? It’s worth it though, you get to see a shy, blushy Idia with flaming pink hair.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“I AM FINE, HUMAN! YOU CANNOT INJURE ME WITH YOUR WEAK HUMAN BODY!”

Neige’s sheepish apology is met with a loud, annoying, obnoxious response. It makes you want to deck the green haired man in the face just for damaging your eardrums. “Hey, cut it out, will you? You’re loud,” you click your tongue, glaring at him, “and very annoying.”

“HOW DARE YOU CALL ME ANNOYING, HUMAN?! I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I, SEBEK ZIGVOLT, ONE OF MALLEUS-SAMA’S MOST LOYAL RETAINERS, AM A FIGURE OF—”

You figure you’re unlikely to get anything useful out of this student whose head seems very deep inside his own ass. Just as you’re planning your escape route (or how to get away with murder), a voice that successfully stops the blabber arrives.

“Sebek?” a beautiful horned fae intercedes from the sidelines, “I thought you were with Silver and Lilia.”

“MY LIEGE!”

This is probably your cue to leave.

With your hand wrapped around Neige’s wrist, you whisk him far far away from this school’s legion of freaks. As good as the eye candy (the horned fae) was, another word from the green weirdo is bound to have you arrested after socking him in the gut.

“Y/N? Where are we going?” Neige asks hesitantly.

“To the cafe,” you answer curtly, “then after that we’re going right back for your SDC practice, okay? I cannot stand one more second with all these NRC students around.”

Exchange program:

RSA held a very, very random name drawing for the exchange student program, and surprise, it’s you! And apparently, during a housewarden meeting, Diasomnia offered to be your dorm during your stay (no one needs to know Diasomnia’s housewarden wasn’t there).

You start sort-of acquaintances with Silver, but he’s actually an amazing antithesis to you. Since, you know, you’re always blazing in your fiery temper and he’s just…asleep. Maybe not antithesis. Anyway he’s a good friend.

Being in the same dorm as Sebek does not make you tolerate him more. In fact, you butt heads so much that Lilia’s assigned someone in Diasomnia to always be watching the two of you when in the same room. Lilia is cool, he’s cute, he’s super fun. You get along nicely with him once you’ve gotten used to being jumpscared.

Malleus, to be honest, you barely ever saw. He’s a bit stuck in his own world, and it’s not as if you cross paths often in your schedule. He’s more a bystander in your world before something (a fight with one of his retainers, you can guess which one) happens, and you finally manage to call him a ‘friend’.

What he thinks of you (before the relationship):

My, you’ve got quite some courage, saying those things in front of the Prince of Briar Valley. Malleus doesn’t mind though, in fact, he welcomes it. He sees it as a sign that you’re friends. After all, none too many would do as you do and sass him, saying such crude and bold words. As long as you don’t cross a line, the fae prince will smile with a ready retort in light fun.

He thinks your antics are amusing, to say the least. But you know that thing where his superiority complex kind of comes out every once in a while? Yeah, he sees you as entertaining. Kinda condescending. The good thing about this is that he doesn’t get mad at the situations you find yourself in, plus it only takes a snap of his fingers to clean up your mess. The bad thing is that you feel like half a court jester.

Malleus understands your natural instinct to claim some place and things as territory. He’s a dragon fae, after all, and those myths and legends of their greed do hold some degree of merit. This extends to people? How interesting. Watches on with amusement as you tackle a student to the ground for calling Lilia ‘weird’.

In all his years of living, this is the first time that anything has made him feel this way. There’s a bitter taste lingering on the back of his tongue, and neon green sparks curl and flicker around his fingers. It’s out of his control, he can’t help it; you’re so unbelievably unlike yourself right now it’s driving him insane. Why would you cuddle with Silver under a tree like this? Do you feel something for his knight? Thunder rumbles in the distance.

Love story climax:

“Beloved.”

The word is strange, weighing heavily on his lips. And yet, as he watches your sleeping figure, mind almost subconsciously erasing Silver from the picture, he finds it to be a word befitting of you. Lovely. “It will be dark soon,” Malleus whispers, and the prince is brought to his knees next to you if only so that you may hear his yearning, “it is best to return indoors and sleep there.”

Your eyes flutter open; you are a vision he cannot ever hope to erase from his mind.

“Sorry, I was,” you let out a soft yawn, stretching your limbs, “I got really tired from PE. Oh, I should wake up Silver.”

Malleus can’t help the lightning that zooms across his fingertips. You didn’t seem to notice the term he’d used for you, still addled from sleep. You’re focused on gently shaking his retainer awake.

It matters not, for you will be his soon enough.

(How could you ever hope to be more territorial than a dragon, dearest?)

What he thinks of you (in the relationship):

Being assertive and straightforward with your words is a great trait of rulers, beloved (yeah, in a relationship means he’s planning for marriage babe, keep up). Sass and sarcasm will have to be taken down a notch though, although he loves you, the faes in Briar Valley are old and not very accommodating of your hobby of wordplay. He does enjoy it, however, so feel free to speak as you wish when the two of you are alone.

In this kind of situation, he babies you a lot more. It’s not really condescension though, he believes that you can handle yourself especially since he now sees you as an equal. But Malleus is highly, if not overly, indulgent of the one he loves. Sees no need to change it unless something big happens. Is more liable to clean up after your messes, this time out of love.

Malleus thinks you’re so adorable when you’re jealous, with the way you get so fussy and protective over him. It’s not as if you really have a reason for jealousy, the prince is less ‘lusted after by many suitors’ and more feared. At least, that’s what he believes. So you only have Lilia and Silver to comfort you after a long day of fighting with his many many admirers.

Have a sense of decorum, dear, a public place is not suitable for displays of affection. Or so he says, but really, who is Malleus to stop you if you wish to be loving and sweet? He’ll melt faster than you can even say his name. He will have to hold back on reciprocating temporarily, but rest assured he has a mental tally and will be repaying you threefold once you’re in his private quarters.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst housewardens

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fangswbenefits · 1 year ago

Text

The Arrangement (6) - Broken

Chapter summary: A long overdue conversation is finally had and things take a turn....

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Mentions of past trauma.

Word count: 5.7k

Series Masterlist . Ao3

If you could have it your way, you'd immediately cast Mage Hand and shove Ava through the deepest pits of the Underdark, all the way down to Grymforge and until she was faced with molten lava rivers coursing below her.

Whether you'd drop her or not would entirely depend on a set of answers you intended on squeezing out of her – quite literally, if possible.

You crossed your arms, watching as the woman dressed in a burgundy red dress made her way inside, holding that nauseating and overly sweet smile of hers.

She came bearing a satchel, which she handed to Astarion as soon as she stood before him.

“Are you well?” she asked, holding his free hand momentarily.

He gave her a dramatic sigh. “Within reason. It's hardly an ideal scenario, but I'll manage.”

She rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand, nodding with supposed concern on her face.

Something about the way she looked at him made you want to gauge your eyes out.

Ugh…

It took an inhuman amount of mental fortitude and no less amount of restraint to keep yourself from scoffing.

Gale gave you an inquisitive side-glance, but remained silent.

“Who's this? Your playmate?”

Ah.

Lae'zel's bluntness could render many speechless and rabid at worst or slightly taken aback at best.

It seemed that Ava fell under an unexpected third category: sheer amusement.

But it was Astarion who spoke for her, “Ever so direct, Lae'zel." He let out a dramatic laugh. "Charming as always."

"I do not care for such frivolities."

His face dropped with an eye-roll. "It was a joke."

"You're the only one laughing."

You had to hold back a chuckle.

Astarion merely glared at her.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “So, who is she? Your hairdresser?”

“This is Lae'zel – a githyanki extraordinaire. Fierce in battle with her sword and off the field with her words, as you can tell.”

Ava extended an arm out to her, earning a scoff from Lae'zel who refused to return the courtesy.

You beamed in joy at her antics.

Astarion moved to your side and Ava immediately spoke up before he could, “Oh, we've already met.”

“Ah, yes. At The Blushing Mermaid?” he said, tapping his chin.

“More than once.”

You scowled. “A single encounter would have been one too many.”

He glared at you, squinting his eyes inquisitively.

“Feisty . I like you already.” she said with a pout.

You considered hexing her right there and then.

Just like with Lae'zel, she extended a hand out to you.

You crossed your arms instead, earning a narrowed glare from Astarion.

Ava's overly sweet smile only widened.

Astarion then waved dismissively at the only person in the room he had yet to introduce.

“Oh - and that is Gale.”

Unlike you and Lae'zel, he moved to take one of Ava's hand in his own before planting a kiss on the back. “Gale of Waterdeep. What a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, madam."

Gale!

The betrayal had you shooting invisible daggers at him through your eyes.

Ava brought a hand to her chest. “What a gentleman.”

Your patience now spent, you moved towards her. “Where did you go after I ran into you at The Blushing Mermaid?”

Ava turned to face you. “A rather intrusive question, dear.”

“Answer it.”

Astarion was scowling already.

“No. I don't think I will.”

You felt the familiar tingles of fire magic spread along the palm of your hand.

“Where were you when we got arrested, then?”

Gale seemed utterly confused and Lae'zel's face twisted in amusement.

Ava's smile didn't waver once. “She's adorable, Astarion.”

“You little-”

Astarion was already on you before you could lunge forward, rooting you in place.

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” he swiftly interjected, effectively silencing you.

Before you could voice out a protest, you felt him tug at your hand until you were pacing in front of him before bringing both hands to grip your shoulders and prevent you from deterring off the intended path.

“Hey!” you huffed in annoyance.

“Do make yourself at home, darling,” you heard his sweet voice behind you.

“I shall.” Ava chirped.

Your temper exploded from their exchange.

“Actually - don't!” You shouted over your shoulder only to earn a warning squeeze from him.

Astarion pushed you rapidly along the corridor until you were being guided into your own room, door slamming closed behind you.

You immediately jerked away from his grip, turning back around with an indignant growl.

“What in the Nine Hells has gotten into you?” he asked through gritted teeth.

Oh, you were so ready to blow up.

“Me? What is she doing here?”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms. “Is this another one of your jealousy tantrums?”

You gasped at his nerve, outrage nearly blinding you for a split second.

“What – no! I am not jealous! I just dislike her!”

He nodded. “Stating the obvious, but why?”

You groaned in exasperation. “Why what? ”

“Why do you dislike her this much? Surely there must be a solid reason – other than jealousy, that is.”

Insufferable and impossible man!

For a moment, you pondered your answer, not wanting your disdain for her to come across as unwarranted.

But you failed.

Miserably.

“She's… icky! There is something really off about her,” you said, sounding far too exasperated to your liking. “I think she…”

You paused briefly, and Astarion furrowed his brows, waiting for you to go on.

Well.

Maybe you should just voice out your suspicions.

“I think she had something to do with us getting arrested - or that man dying. Maybe both.”

He glared at you in silence for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, aren't you just cute?” He said with a click of his tongue. “Ava would gain nothing from such an ordeal.”

You were fuming at his antics, but tried to rein in your temper. “What does that mean?”

“You'll just have to trust me on this.”

What?

“Are you being serious?”

He tilted his head. “I fail to see how my private affairs are of your concern.”

You placed both hands on your hips, glaring at him with perplexity. “You brought her to my home, so it starts being my concern.”

“Please – as if I want to be here in the first place.”

“Then leave.” You immediately suggested, pointing to the door.

He scoffed with a grimace. “Alright. I will.”

“Great.”

“Wonderful.”

He turned to leave, but suddenly halted as he glanced at the covered window to his right.

You crossed your arms, raising your brows. “Well?”

He twirled on his feet, giving you an artificial smile. “Could it perhaps wait until nightfall, darling? I'm afraid ‘burning to ashes under the midday sun’ isn't quite an invigourating activity to indulge in.”

Your shoulders slumped as he disarmed you with his words.

A wave of sickening guilt took hold of you.

Shit.

What a ridiculous thing to have suggested to him, and even more ridiculous that you two just couldn't seem to be on the same page for more than a few hours at a time.

“I'm sorry.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Think nothing of it.”

“I'm really not jealous,” you said with a sigh.

It was true.

For the most part.

“I just worry.”

His features softened and the room plunged into silence.

Astarion eventually broke it with a sigh. “She used to be a monster hunter.”

You arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “A monster hunter?”

He nodded.

You had seen your fair share of monster hunters throughout your travels, and if there was one thing you knew for certain was that Ava did not look the part at all.

“And you trusted her word?”

He snorted. “Kind of hard not to with a stake pressed to my chest.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “She did what?!”

“Do calm down. I was just as skeptical when I first met her, so I foolishly asked for proof,” he said with a shrug. “Let's just say my doubts were put to rest.”

Your mouth dropped open in sheer perplexity.

So Astarion had been meddling with someone who hunted his kind for a living.

This was a whole new level of… derangement. Even coming from him.

You found your voice once again. “And you trusted after that?”

“Yes.”

You blinked. “She hunts… vampires!”

“You never listen to me properly, do you? I said she ‘used’ to be one. She practices Alchemy now.”

A lump rose in your throat. “So…. you and her…”

“Let's just say that we found a sweet spot in between and we each provide something useful to the other.”

You gave him a level look. “An arrangement?”

“I suppose you could call it that.”

Another one? Was Astarion hoarding these? First you and now… her?

And what could she possibly provide him?

And then it was as if your body was engulfed in ice shards.

Wait…

“So… what are the terms?”

Did you even want to know?

He seemed to be wondering whether or not to reply, but eventually spoke, “Well, she helps me feel more at ease in terms of being close to others... intimately.”

Your heart sunk into the deepest pits of your core.

“What?”

Now he looked rather impatient, rolling his eyes. “Do not jump to conclusions. She offered a helping hand once she realised how I... severe this was."

Oh.

“When you walked in on us the other night with her naked by my side… nothing had happened.”

You remembered him telling you this.

“Nothing ever does,” he continued, his words sounding slightly bitter. “So I take comfort in her naked form, but only so that my body can get used to it. Nothing more and nothing less.

A pang of discomfort ran through you and you suddenly felt like an idiot.

The rage you felt towards her dwindled rapidly as you understood the true nature of their arrangement.

Ava was merely helping him out with his intimacy.

“Oh.”

“I suppose ‘oh’ covers it.” he said nonchalantly.

“And what does she get in return?”

He shrugged. “My blood.”

What?!

He had to be joking.

You felt the scalding flames of rage for Ava take over your entire body all at once.

Your jaw dropped and you were at a loss for words.

“You – idiot! ” you growled in a fit of pure outrage, smacking his arm. “A blood merchant?! ”

He was scowling so deeply the lines on his face sank tenfold. “Do you think of me as a child?” he spat, suddenly towering over you. “I treaded this world long before you were even thought into existence.”

“Oh – please do tell me more, you ancient… tree! ” you blurted out, nearly wincing at the weak insult you had just hurled at him.

He snorted. “Your flattery needs working as usual.”

You ignored his taunt. “A blood merchant? Seriously? ”

“She is not one!”

“Then what does she want with your blood?”

“She is doing some research. That is all you need to know,” he ground out between gritted teeth.

Before you could retort, a soft knock on the door was heard.

“Astarion? Ava is leaving,” Gale spoke.

He threw one final scowl at you before heading out.

“Judging from the murderous look on your face, I imagine the conversation wasn't all that pleasant, my friend.”

You clenched your fists tight, brushing past Gale to follow Astarion.

By the time you reached the ample room, you were met with Ava giving his shoulder a tight squeeze.

She gave you a final glare, that sickening smile of hers still dancing on her lips. “I'll be seeing you soon.”

Then she turned to leave as Astarion exchanged a tense look with you.

You felt a gentle hand on your arm and flinched.

Shadowheart.

“If it's of any comfort to you, I am also suspicious of her aura,” she said with a grimace. “Although I can't say I'm surprised he would surround himself with such company.”

Heaving a deep sigh, you sank on the nearby cushioned chair.

She lowered herself at your side, offering you an all-black vial.

You raised a brow. “What is this?”

As you had come to expect from Shadowheart, she gave you the warmest of smiles. “Lavander extract mixed in with some herbs. It is said to keep the worst terrors of the night at bay,” she said, giving your forearm a gentle squeeze. “The apothecary did mention it is only a temporary fix. You must address the root cause of these dreams, friend.”

Your eyes immediately landed on Astarion who was busy emptying the contents of the satchel Ava had brought him.

Shadowheart followed your line of sight and gave you a knowing nod. “The two of you speak but neither listens, and I care too much for you to watch your light dim for him.”

You swallowed hard.

She was right.

Of course she was.

You took the tiny vial in your hand. “Thank you, my friend.”

She nodded curtly. “I shall keep an eye on him lest he does something foolish to you.”

And you knew she meant every single word.

How many times had you counted to twenty? You'd lost track of it already.

Maybe increasing it to thirty and repeating it many more times over would help you muster the courage to do this.

You kept on rasping your knuckles softly against the door to his room, but not soundly enough to provoke a knock.

It was becoming unbearable.

You felt as if something was constantly gnawing and clawing at you from the inside out.

“I can hear you breathing, you know.”

His voice startled you, your heart skipping a beat.

Taking a deep breath for added courage, you gripped and turned the doorknob, swiftly pushing the door open.

There he was.

Sitting by the windowsill, bathed in moonlight as he flipped through a book that lay pressed against his thigh.

He looked positively… ethereal.

The candles scattered across the room, made it feel more homely and inviting.

“Sneaking up on a rogue? My, my… feeling bold tonight, are we?”

Your heart faltered momentarily.

He didn't lift his head to meet you, and you were thankful for this.

You were having a hard time keeping yourself together. Beads of sweat pooled in the palms of your hands and you tried your best to keep your breathing as even as possible.

But this needed to happen.

And depending on the direction of this conversation, you might just leave his room feeling even more heartbroken than before.

“We need to talk.”

That caught his attention, and his crimson eyes met yours.

He arched an elegant brow, pressing the book shut. “Go on.”

Suddenly, you felt cold.

No… freezing .

As if the weight of his stare steadily drained the warmth from your body, even with your robe tightly wrapped around you.

You mustered all the willpower you possibly could.

“Why her?”

A crow's foot of amusement appeared by his left eye. “You'll have to be more specific, darling.”

You heaved a deep sigh of frustration, considering the idea of simply walking away.

Why was this so hard?

But a small sliver of determination kept your focus. “This arrangement you have with her… I…” You paused for a moment, struggling to find the right wording to this. “I just want to know why her.”

Why not me?

Astarion shifted to stand gracefully on his feet, leaving the book on the padded chair.

“Why not?”

Answering questions with more questions was a sure way to frustrate you, but he excelled at this dance.

“Please answer me…”

He took a few steps in your direction, his eyes studying your face as if trying to strip you bare.

“Because it's easier.”

“Than what?”

He didn't answer.

You waited for him to go on, but were far too impatient to hold back.

So, you tried again.“Is she the reason why you're so distant from me, then?”

He tilted his head. “And how did you arrive at that conclusion, I wonder?”

Another question for a question.

“You've been distant from me for a while now,” you said, trying to rub the sweat away from your hands. “And I can't help but think she's the reason why.”

He straightened ever so slightly before closing the distance between you two.

“What I have with her is merely transactional.”

Ah. Well…

You did know all too well of transactions with Astarion…

After all, you had been pushed into one from the moment you had gotten together with him at the Tiefling celebration, even if unbeknownst to you.

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me…”

His words of confession still echoed through your mind from time to time.

“Like what we have now?”

“It is nothing of the sort." he immediately said.

For better or worse?

“How so?”

His proximity had you suck in a sharp breath. “She's not you.”

A cold chill ran through your body.

“That is what you want to know, isn't it? Why I never asked that of you.”

Astarion could be too perceptive for your own good. It was as if he could easily read you like an open book.

You slowly nodded.

“Because you're – well… you're you ,” he said,his face softening. “And as selfish as I am, I could never burden you with this. Not you.”

His words carved into your chest like the sharpest daggers.

Even after all this time, he still regarded himself as a burden to others. That what he had been through had tainted him beyond repair.

But…

“Is that why you push me away?”

He was too close now.

Close enough to throw you off balance with his imposing demeanour.

“How can I not?”

That stung.

Hard.

“Have you any idea how much I envy those who have never met you?”

Your heart dropped.

And then dread took over.

“Or how I envy those who have yet to meet you?”

This had been exactly what you had feared coming into his room.

The confirmation that he was ready to move from you.

That all that was left of your bond with him was this arrangement and the empty shell of what used to be something that resembled a friendship.

Even after he had comforted you last night.

How much of that was truly genuine?

“Do you want to know why?” he asked.

Did you?

“... why?”

Then you felt his icy fingers on your cheek, jolting from the sudden shift in temperature. “Because they get to know you for the first time. They get to experience all of you,” he went on, brushing his thumb across your skin. “In another lifetime, we would have met without the manipulation and hurt and pain.”

You froze in place and your mind went blank.

“You would have met my unbroken self, and I would have adored you unconditionally, because how could I not when everything about you is so easy to love?”

Somehow, this made everything even worse.

Your stomach twisted in knots and you were left utterly speechless.

You had promised yourself not to shed more tears for him, but it was proving to be a challenge as his words seeped into your core like poison.

It was the painful realisation of what could have been.

“And even through all the deception and lies, you could never bring yourself to loathe me. Even when it was decidedly the wisest thing for you to do,” he said, voice steady and calm. “You never loathed me. Not then and not now – maybe not ever .”

Your lips quivered as he spoke every word of truth.

You then swallowed the thick lump in your throat and met his gaze. “You're not broken.”

But it was evident he didn't believe your words.

“And it is not fair that you get to make my decisions for me,” you said, pulling his hand away from your face. “You could have told me all of this, Astarion. We used to have sincere conversations before. What changed?”

He looked away, and you could feel the vulnerability creep into his features.

“Everything.”

You placed a hand to the side of his face, wanting him to meet your gaze once again.

He resisted at first, but eventually succumbed, soft eyes meeting yours.

“Do you regret not going through with the ritual?”

He winced under your touch as if you'd just burnt him.

“A few days ago… that conversation in the cell…”

Astarion didn't look willing to pursue this matter at all.

You inwardly cursed at yourself.

Fuck… you've pushed it.

“Do I wonder what it would be like? Yes – can you blame me for it? To live again without being reduced to a vampire spawn? To tread the lands freely and with so much power that no one would dare cross me?” He paused abruptly as if snapping out of a dream, eyes narrowing at you. “This Wish spell nonsense is dragging, and I feel my chances are slimming with each passing day. We take one step forward and two steps back.”

You felt for him. You truly did.

It seemed that the odds were ever against you, but you also had faith in Gale and your own abilities.

“We'll figure it out. I promise.”

He scoffed. “Do not make promises you can't keep.”

His face looked sour and it pained you.

“You're still the same man I…” fell for…

But you let the final words die in your mouth, not wanting to take it too far.

He stared expectantly at you and, in that moment, you were sure that feeling had never truly left.

You were still foolishly in love with him.

And the confirmation that it could be perhaps reciprocal to an extent was tugging at the frayed ends of your sanity.

“You could have anyone you desire,” he said, with a slight hint of pity in his voice. “From artisans to noblemen – they would all crawl for you.”

It was tempting to accept his praise, but it frustrated you that it felt like he was merely deflecting.

And the trace of pity truly gnawed at your nerves. Why did he pity you? For still having feelings for him?

You snorted. “Well, they're not you.”

Hurling his own words at him had him pressing his lips together.

“I don't know if I can give you anything real. I simply don't know how…”

You caressed his cool cheek. “We can start by rebuilding our friendship.”

He leaned into your touch. “I rather like the sound of that.”

You offered him a reassuring smile.

To be honest, you were more than perfectly fine with that prospect.

Even if a part of you craved more than a friendship, you were also aware that some wounds took longer to heal.

His wounds.

Your wounds.

And the ones you shared together.

So long as he didn't push you away with no solid reason, you would be fine.

And so would he.

Then you came to the conclusion that…

He didn't need her.

He didn't need Ava at all.

You were there for him.

There was no need for him to meddle with strangers when he had you as a friend.

“You don't need her.”

His eyes widened slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You don't have to resort to her for intimacy,” you said carefully, waiting for his approval. “I can help, if you so wish, of course.”

Much to your dismay, he scowled rather deeply.

“I have already stolen too much from you.”

You shook your head, gripping the lace near your collarbone, tugging gently. “You cannot steal that which is freely given.”

And you meant every word.

You then gripped the string of your robe. “May I remove this?”

He silently nodded.

As you undid it, the silk fabric began to slide down your arms, leaving you to stand only in your nightdress.

His eyes dropped from your face and roamed along your frame.

He took a few steps in your direction until he was standing close enough that you could feel the coldness of his skin.

“You don't have to do this.” he said.

You gave him a reassuring nod. “We can stop if you don't feel comfortable.”

His eyes found yours. “Can I look at you? Bare?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Slowly, you unravelled the first lace at the front of your nightdress.

Suddenly, Astarion's hand gripped yours as you moved to the next one further down.

You took a deep breath, fearing you had overdone it.

That he would stop you.

Only… he didn't.

Instead, he picked the string in between his fingers, giving it a tug until it came undone.

His eyes never left yours and you felt shivers prickling at your skin, as he exposed more and more of your skin.

You felt another tug and the fabric loosened.

“I do wonder…”

Another one.

You bit down on your lower lip, holding his unwavering gaze.

And another one.

Your chest heaved more rapidly as your heart hammered in your ears.

This time, his eyes dropped as he worked on the last strings.

“... do friends do this?”

A chill ran down your back as it dawned on you that there was a contrast to this.

Just a few hours ago, he had been tying the very same laces to preserve your modesty in a moment of vulnerability.

But now, you had been the one to initiate it, and he had undone each of them until your front was fully open.

“It depends…” your voice was but a whisper.

He pushed the fabric aside just enough to expose a hardening nipple.

“On what?”

You couldn't bring yourself to provide a decent reply as you felt his thumb ghost the underside of your breast.

Then he flicked the sleeve from your shoulder, until it draped down your arm.

“Are we really just meant to be friends?”

Heat rushed to your face at his bluntness and you looked at him dazedly as if drunk on his words.

“Is that why I plague your dreams at night and your thoughts during the day?”

Astarion had a gift for words and he could almost make it seem like he could easily make love by using them, if he so desired.

Or completely make you crumble under the weight of his words.

You couldn't bring yourself to answer any of his questions, as you felt the burden of the truth weigh down on you.

“You are beautiful.”

His sincere praise almost drew a gasp from you.

You had the other sleeve sliding down as well, until the nightdress slipped along your body, pooling at your feet.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you were standing fully naked in front of him.

There was familiarity in it, but that wasn't what had your heart fluttering.

It was how he silently glared at you as if awestruck.

“So very beautiful…”

This time, his words of praise made you feel too self-aware and far more exposed than simply being naked.

Reflexively, you brought your hands to cover your bare chest.

You had always felt undeserving of his attention.

Astarion was what some might call the epitome of physical harmony.

His body was a work of art and his beauty unmatched.

“You don't ever have to hide from me,” he said softly, taking one hand in his. “Come here.”

He slowly guided you towards the window, the full moon up high casting its pale glow down on you.

“Look at the window.”

You did so, watching your lonely and washed out reflection show up on the clear glass.

Fleetingly, you wished you could see him, too, as he came to stand behind you, placing both hands on your shoulders.

But there was no one there but you.

You stood alone, but felt his presence all the same.

“You are a sight to behold,” he said in a whisper, his lips close to your ear. “Do not ever doubt it.”

“So are you…”

He chuckled, placing one finger under your chin, and tilting your head towards him.

You suddenly felt your knees buckle under you as his lips ghosted over yours.

“May I kiss you?”

Oh.

That startled you and your eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

His brows furrowed lightly. “We don't have to, of course.”

You wanted to.

More than anything.

But this wasn't just about you.

“Maybe we should take it slow?” you suggested, the coldness of his lips nearly touching yours.

He drew back slightly.

“Is that what you want?”

“Maybe it's what you need.”

He hesitated at first. “I think… I need this.”

Doubt flared inside you like a wildfire. On one hand, you feared he was rushing things once again.

On the other, he seemed rather at ease with the prospect of going further.

So maybe…

“You need to let me know if it's too much.”

He inched closer once more. “I will.”

Your heart clenched hard before rapidly doubling its pace.

You fully melted into him as he took your lips in his, keeping you still by gripping your chin lightly in between his fingers.

This kiss was familiar.

It was measured and controlled.

This one felt and tasted like… home.

It was reminiscent of the last kisses you had shared before Moonrise Towers. When both of you had gotten so comfortable with each other, it felt like second nature to be so intimate.

This wasn't driven by lust like the one you shared at The Blushing Mermaid only a few days prior.

It was driven by yearning.

Longing.

He pressed down on your chin with his thumb, parting your lips for his tongue to slip through, and your eyes quickly fluttered shut.

How you had missed this… tasting him as he completely overtook your senses.

His cold touch set your skin alight and you had to grip the hardwood shutter by the window to keep yourself from melting away.

You broke from him to let out a soft gasp when he pressed himself against you, his growing erection nudging at your lower back.

As touch starved as you were, you still held back, not wanting to overstep any lines.

He trailed his tongue along your lower lip, and you slowly turned to fully face him, cradling his face in your hands never parting from him.

The kiss morphed into something more urgent and primal, as if he had waited an eternity for this moment.

Your body was now fully flushed against him, and you heard the faintest growl emerge from his throat when you pressed into his bulge.

He suddenly broke the kiss, causing your eyes to fly open.

“Too much?”

“Yes.”

Astarion slowly tore himself away from you body, his face tense and his eyes avoiding yours.

For a split second you felt panic take over your mind at the fear of having hurt him.

“Astarion…”

But he quickly straightened himself, offering a reassuring smile.

It felt genuine and you allowed yourself to relax.

“Are you well?”

His face seemed blank for a moment. “Of course.”

Your heart dropped at the realisation that his words, once again, did not match his body language.

“Maybe we rushed it…”

As if your voice had snapped him out of a trance, his eyes finally met yours. “It's hard not to do so with you.”

The impending sense that he was trying to compensate with words began to loom over you.

He swiftly circled you and moved back to help you slip into your robe, careful fingers tying it snugly around you, yet you felt more exposed than ever.

“Astarion, I didn't mean for-”

He pressed his forefinger to your lips. “I was the one who got carried away. Do not take the blame for that. Please.”

You felt relief slowly settle deep within you.

Astarion's words did match his body language this time.

You then heaved a big sigh as he dropped his hand.

“Do you wish for me to stay? We can talk about it…”

He closed the space between the two of you and pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “Not tonight.”

You nodded understandingly, enjoying the tenderness.

“Will you still seek out Ava?”

He pulled away to meet your gaze. “I might indulge in some of her words of wisdom, yes.”

“And will you still give her your blood?”

“I believe so.”

You felt the beginnings of a frown settle on your face. “You don't have to…” … not anymore .

“You also don't have to give me yours, yet you willingly do so,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “As do I.”

“But it's different with us… I can easily withdraw my consent.”

“Correct.”

You hesitated for a moment. “I just worry that she might take it too far…”

A genuine smile of amusement tugged at his lips. “Ava is not someone you should worry about.”

Well, it was easier said than done.

There was still an unsettling feeling about her brewing within you. You couldn't quite place your finger on what it was, but it was still there…

“If she tries anything to hurt you-”

He immediately cut you off. “Oh, I am quite sure you would bestow upon her a curse so great that historians all over Faerûn would rush to document such an event in their books.”

Your outer shell of toughness cracked open and you chuckled.

“I would hope they do that.”

“A cautionary tale, if you will,” he nodded with a sly grin.

“And I will gladly do that to her should the situation call for it.”

It wasn't an empty threat.

He nodded. “I don't expect anything less from you, darling.”

You stared at each other in silence for what felt like an eternity.

It felt… comfortable.

Your heart felt full from finally having had a heartfelt conversation that was long overdue.

There were still edges to polish and fears to keep at bay, but, for now, it felt enough.

“Have a good night, Astarion.” you offered a sweet smile.

He returned it. “Dream of me – well, the satisfying kind, I hope.”

“So do I.”

“And if not, you know where to find me."

His words of comfort wrapped around you like the warmest blanket.

You nodded, snatching your nightdress from the floor to exit his room.

With a final glance over your shoulder, you found that his smile had wavered ever so slightly, and did your best not to overthink it.

And as the door to his room clicked shut, you shook your head and held it up high, determination setting in your mind.

You were going to talk to Ava.

TBC

#astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #astarion fanfic

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