#i just wanted someone to make her stop talking 😭

[mossangelll]

Out of all the arcane sugar daddies/mommies: who do you think are most likely to fall/want a relationship with their sugar baby🤔

OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS!!! honestly thinking of starting a series based on this concept - it’s so fun ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

based on this work!

cw: mentions of sex

Caitlyn

Cait is very repressed when it comes to relationships. I mentioned in a previous work that her childhood was probably a bit devoid of affection in the sense that she wasn’t treated so much as a child but as a future heir who had to be perfect which definitely contributes to this complex. This isn’t to say her parents didn’t love her, they definitely did, but they did instil these impossible expectations that leached over into her love life and the expectations she has for herself and her future partner. I mean, the whole reason she went on a sugar baby site was because she dedicates her whole life to work and pushes aside love. This isn’t because she doesn’t want it, quite the opposite - she wants it badly but knows that whoever she chooses has to live up to her family’s expectations and come to terms that for Cait, the Kiramman house will always come first.

This is why Cait opts for a “no strings attached” arrangement because in her mind, this is the best outcome she can hope for. Someone to keep the loneliness at bay while she focuses on what’s important. That is until she meets you and gets to truly know you as a person; it goes from a simple dinner date to her buying you a penthouse - she’s down bad.

Her friends warn her that you’re just a gold digger, that this isn’t a long-term arrangement and that she deserves someone of a higher standing. She couldn’t care less. You truly get her, not the version of her who is the genius heir to an important family, but the version of her who wants to chase her own dreams and simply slow down. Being with you doesn’t feel like a societal obligation or an

She would agonise over how to tell you that she wants more from you, from the both of you. Cait is definitely the kind of person who gets unbelievably sappy after sex and so she can’t help but whisper out those three important words when she thinks you’re asleep. Except you’re not. When she realises, she freaks out and ditches your place 😭 She basically goes into hiding for a week as she works out what exactly the next step is and how she should approach the situation.

You’re hurt that she would leave you, especially since you were just about to say “I love you” back so with the help of your friends you refuse to contact her first, and she’s hurt since you haven’t contacted her and it makes her wonder if maybe her friends were right and you didn’t really care about her. Two idiots in love. Eventually, Cait comes to her senses and visits your penthouse with a a bouquet of those flowers that last a whole year without wilting. A show of her immense love for you.

Needless to say you’re beyond happy that you’ve finally reunited and from that moment on you two are official, society and familial expectations be damned.

Jayce

Oh Jayce.

Another one who is inexperienced when it comes to love and serious, committed relationships. Again, he focused a lot of time on his research and didn’t have the time for anything more than short flings and hookups.

At first he genuinely isn’t looking for anything serious with you, he has work and friends to keep him occupied enough. It would take a while before he starts to view you in a more romantic, genuine way since building a deep bond is very important to him. But when he does realise? He doesn’t want to let you go.

You two had agreed that you weren’t exclusive, but after many months of seeing each other, he had stopped going on dates with others and had to suffer in excruciating silence when you talked to him about someone you had a nice time with last night. It was his fault for asking, but can you blame him - he needs to scope out the competition! Because of this he ends up coming across a bit petulant, starting petty arguments with you as if you were cheating even though it was clearly agreed there were no strings attached.

You can only tolerate so much of this behaviour though. After all, you have an obligation to go on dates with him when he pays, but it’s hard to enjoy your time when he’s practically interrogating you on your date last night. So, you put an end to this as soon as possible, you do like Jayce a lot and can’t stomach being in this weird, uncomfortable limbo with him. It’s nerve wracking for sure, asking out a chancellor, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world when you see the way his eyes light up and his jaw drops, revealing his ever-so-slightly gapped teeth. Being able to reduce such a big man to a puddle of shock is quite exciting.

From then on, he uses every excuse and chance he has to slip in the fact you’re his girlfriend into the most unrelated conversations. He’s ridiculous 😭

It’s a bit awkward because as a chancellor, people talk and talk they did when they caught onto the fact that you were his sugar baby. But you’re his now and he does not tolerate people speaking ill of you or what you used to do in the past. None of that matters, especially not now that you’ve confessed your love for each other!

The moment you come to him with tears in your eyes over nasty comments (sure, you’ve built a thick skin over the years but nothing compares to the cattiness of rich aristocrats) he is finding that person and having words. Or, if he wants to create a more lasting impact, he uses his connections to bad talk the person and limit the job opportunities they get with members of the council.

Despite taking a little longer to realise his feelings compared to the other two, he would be the quickest out of them all to propose. Now that he knows that you’re the love of his life, more important than even his hextech, he doesn’t want to wait any longer to solidify your relationship and show the world the scope of your love <3

Vander

Vander is older than you which complicates your relationship from the get-go; no matter how much he yearns for for something more than this arrangement, it feels wholly inappropriate. Just the thought of meeting your parents, people closer in age to him than he is to you, makes him wince.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from acting more like your boyfriend more than just some guy who spoils you in return for your time. He picks you and your friends up from the club, gives you back rubs when you complain about a long day of work, even gossips with you about random celebrities he knows nothing about. He is sooooo whipped he practically has heart eyes whenever he so much as thinks about you. He admires everything about you and sometimes the doubt weighs down on him - you’re perfect in his eyes and it makes him believe that if he wasn’t essentially paying you to be with him, you wouldn’t have looked twice at him.

In this situation, he is so hopeless you would have to be the one to reach out to him and ask for a serious relationship. He would be taken aback, sure he knows he’s attractive but wouldn’t you want someone your own age? Someone you wouldn’t feel ashamed being with openly? Once he gets over all his fears and doubts this guy goes all out - he’s in love! Every time you guys get intimate, he can’t help but call it “making love” since now it’s something special that truly means a lot to you both.

Expect to be spoiled™️ when it’s time for holidays such as valentines and christmas. He doesn’t even expect anything from you, your presence is a gift enough for him, but if you do get him something (especially a well-thought out gift that shows how much you care) this man is bear hugging you with tears in his eyes. He is beyond ecstatic that he found his special someone, even if it happened in a very unorthodox way :’)

special mentions: jinx, viktor

masterlist

[hrizantemy]

Okay, since me and @wingsdippedingold talk about Rhysand’s sister a lot, I need to get this off my chest—I genuinely cannot imagine her and their mother having a good relationship.

And before y’all come for me with the “Oh well—” SHUT UP. It’s a thought, and there’s some actual evidence to back it up.

• First of all, this woman put her future daughter-in-law’s ring in the Weaver’s cottage like “yeah, you have to almost die to deserve my son.” 😭

• She was fine with her son and his friend literally beating on Azriel (still hate him btw) and then bringing him home.

• She made dresses for Feyre before ever meeting her and was out here sexualizing her. Like ma’am??? Let the girl breathe???

• And I’m supposed to believe she paid any attention to her actual daughter? Be serious. She is the most “boy mom” of boy moms.

Rhysand’s sister was probably out there fighting for her life for attention while their mom was too busy obsessing over her golden child and his future wife.

And THIS is why I will continue my propaganda that Rhysand’s father and sister were in a toxic relationship (don’t make it weird, you creeps 😭).

Like, just imagine it—Rhysand was his mother’s pride and joy, her golden boy, her everything. Meanwhile, his sister? She was her father’s gem.

• Rhysand’s father saw his son as a disappointment, someone too soft, too weak, not the warrior he wanted. But his daughter? Maybe she had the ambition, the fire, the ruthlessness he respected.

• And since she couldn’t get a crumb of attention from her mother (because boy mom energy was STRONG), she went to the next worst option—the father who actually acknowledged her.

Is this messy? Absolutely. Is it plausible? YES. And I will not stop pushing this agenda until we get more info.

[sugutoad]

OK THIS WAS LONG so I have quite a lot to say So it’s gonna be under the cut!

DAEMON UNCLE-DADDY IS BACK (for now. His ass is getting exiled soon) You can see how different he acts without Reader’s presence — quite similar to his personality in the show. He is rude and uses his title and dragon to scare people off and to seem li,e this superior person. But then you see these moments of vulnerability within him when reading reader’s letters. I LOVE HOW HE REREADS HER FIRST TO A POINT ITS SO WORN OUT. It is pretty much the only thing that keeps him sane during the times of war — the thoughts of reader. And he gets its too! Everyone does but Viserys. Reader is a little girl who likes her own things and should not be changed around to become someone else. In some way, Viserysnis trying to mold her into Rhaenyra by trying to make her more confident and making her wear her houses clothings non stop. he is completely trying to wipe away who she is and it is so frustrating bc while everyone sees this, no one says anything.

But reader is such a good sister! Like all she does is talk non stop about them and she notices little things like how their eye colors differ and how they act. And then her teaching Aegon his letters when Daemon came back! Jusr wait until Aemond and Daeron are born bc I know she would love them with all her heart especially Aemond who is quite and a sweet person like her. I jusr know Aemond’s obsession with history comes from her.

And then comes the scene where he is ACTUALLY back. Rhaenyra step the ruck away please and thank you. She has waited for his return and probably came up with ways with how it would happen, but now that he is back, she doesn’t know what to do. Criston’s words were so true. She was able to write to him bc she didn’t have to face him so she wrote her heart out but now she doesn’t know how to speak with him now that he is here.

LAENA ANS NYMERIA MY LOVES. Reader is literally DYING over here and their biggest problem is what the best dessert is 😭 and reader is so sweet for trying to end the argument and Nymeria is like “nah bitch” so they just continue

AND THEN THEY MEET! I was actually curled up in a little ball and giggling in joy. HE GOT HER THR BOOK! it’s such a wholesome scene bc she finally lets down the wall she built around herself and feels safe. She reads whatever she wants in his company however she wants. (That cute little bickering tho where has steals the book has my heart). They are so cuteeee. She talks his ear off and he is softly staring and listening to her. I’m gonna die

A NEW MAN? A NEW MAN? Rhaenyra? Him, Harwin, Laenor tf? 😭😭 And I know ppl in the North arent’t knights since they don’t follow the Seven but my hc on her new boy toy is that his mother is from the Reach bc Daniel is such a reach name + their knightly chivalry and religion that he follows. (Ok specifically he is from house oakheart in my eye bc idk 😭😭) ALSO i immediately saw his northern name and made him half oakheart and i officially have a fc for him

THIS MAN (idk his name, BUT he plays in Viking Valhalla as Harald Hardrada)

The Red Queen (Chapter 17/?)

Series Masterlist

116 ac

Daemons pov

I storm into my tent after beating that messenger. 

My brother thinks he can kick me out of his court, and as soon as glory is on the horizon take what I earned? My glory? No, I'll make a fool of him. I think as I throw my helmet onto my bed where a little squeak comes. 

I turn to see the whore I brought to my bed last night still there. She isn't what I usually go for with her freckled skin and flaming orange hair. But when you're on a battlefield you don't get too choosy with a willing cunt.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask in an annoyed tone which makes her eyes go big.

“I-I was asleep.” She says quickly as she reaches for her loose fitting linen dress. 

I take in the style of dress and remember she isn't a whore but one of the lords personal maids. 

Same difference. I think as I turn away from her as she continues to apologize and clumsily puts her clothes back on. 

“Just go, I don't have time for this.” I hiss which makes her quickly scurry out of the tent with one final sorry leaving her lips. 

I look down at my battle plan and sigh in defeat. 

It truly is a suicide mission. 

I sit there for a while calculating what needs to be done and what doesn't when someone calls for me from outside my tent. 

“A letter for you, my Prince.” The boy says and I can't help but roll my eyes. 

“Yes I am well aware.” I respond in a tone I know has this boy shaking in his little boots. 

But strangely he stays. “I think you'll want  to see this one, my Prince. It's from the Princess.” 

I freeze, turning to look back at the boy who holds a scroll. 

“Which one?” I ask even though I already know. 

“Only one of them sends you letters regularly at that.” He says holding it out for me. 

I snatch it from him waving him away as I look down at the seal. 

It's yours. You had gotten a wax seal at some point, most likely because my brother was tired of you asking to use his. It's the Targaryen symbol, but you never use red or black, always pink or purple, sometimes even white. 

Never did like our harsh colors. I think with a smile as I move over to my desk, setting your letter down. 

I then sit down and open a drawer where I keep each and every one of your letters. They are one of the only things that keep me going, but also one of the things that gives me the most grief. For with each letter I see you grow, mature, but I can't see you do it, only through your words. 

I grab your first letter quickly, it's so worn down from how often I open and close it but I don't care. It's important. 

I open it with care making sure the now flimsy paper doesn't tear and read your scribbled words. 

Dear Kepus

I miss you. A lot. Papa doesn't talk to me anymore, not even at super. Nyra says mean things. Like how I'm not needed here. Why doesn't she love me? Did I do something bad? Why did Papa make you leave? Why won't you come back? I have so many questions but no one wants to answer them. 

Papa says I'm gonna be heir. That it's important that I am. But I don't want to be heir. I want to be me. 

I miss you. Please write back soon. 

I always have to push back tears when I read this. You were so young, so confused. But it also always brings a smile to my face seeing your scribbled writing and the random drops of ink as you learned how to use a quill. 

I reach for another letter, one that always seems to make my blood boil. 

Dear Kepus

Aegon's one today, he's adorable. Papa has a large feast planned to celebrate him. There will be jesters, actors, and some people called acrobats. It's suppose to be lots of fun. 

I requested a new dress for it, Papa said yes. But I'm confused, all the fabrics are red or black. I had asked for a pink or purple dress. When I asked Papa he said I have to wear our house colors now. So I make us look strong and united. I'm not sure how a dress will do this but he seems sure it will. 

What do you think? Is a red dress really going to change so much over a purple one? 

I know you don't like me asking, but I need to know. How is the war going? Are you alright? You're not hurt or injured are you? I'm so worried about you I have a hard time sleeping, especially when Papa’s council talks about how horrible it's going. 

Please say you're alright. And tell the truth this time, because I know your shoulder got hurt. Papa got a letter from Lord Corlys, Laena’s Papa. It said your chest was burned, bad. That you almost died because of the injury. So no lying, didn't anyone teach you that's rude? 

I miss you, please write soon. 

I sigh when I finish the letter. I always felt like this was the beginning of Viserys' changes of you. It didn't take long for that day on for you to always get a new red dress. It broke my heart because though I always thought red was your color you never cared for it much. Preferring pink, purple, blue, even yellow over our house colors. 

He's trying to make you into what he wants you to be, and it infuriates me. But what kills me is that you know of my pain. I swore I would come back, I could only imagine the fear you felt in that moment. Perhaps even the betrayal. 

And with that thought I break the wax seal and slowly open your latest letter.

Dear Kepus

I'm ten now, and there was a huge celebration. I got to wear a white dress with red Myrish lace. Ali said I looked ethereal and Father said I looked lovely. There were a lot of people there, most I didn't know but they said nice things and gave gifts. But sadly I didn't get the one I wanted. My book about Daenys is falling apart. The maesters say I should just get a new one. But I don't know where you got this one, and neither does Father. He says I don't need the pictures but I love them. Do you think you could tell me where you got the book? I just want to read my favorite story again. 

Aegon is three, he's always running. Father says that's because he's a boy, but I think it's just because he's Aegon. He's been sad though, his egg hasn't hatched. Rhaenyra gave it from Syrax's clutch but for some reason it just won't hatch. Maybe when you get back you can look at it and see why. 

Have I told you about Helaena? She's so cute! She has chubby cheeks, silver hair, and violet eyes. They look so different compared to Aegon's periwinkle ones. She likes quiet though, and Aegon likes to be loud. So she gets startled a lot, but we're trying to explain that he needs to be calmer around Helaena. It's a slow process though because so used to being as loud as he wants. It's a big change for him.

Stormchaser laid another clutch, but they were all stone again. I don't know why, when she and Caraxes were together they were all perfect. But now they are all stone and she's so sad. It hurts seeing her so sad without Caraxes. 

One last thing, Father wants to reinstate me as heir. But he wants you here when he does it. So he said he's bringing tropes to help you. Be nice to them, they're just trying to help. 

I miss you, come home soon.

I sigh and look down thinking over each word. I can't help but chuckle about your book. You had always loved Daenys, if people thought Rhaenyra loved Visenya they haven't seen nor heard you talk about Daenys the Dreamer.

She is your idol, in your words. She saved us so we can be here today. I can't remember how many spats you and Rhaenyra have had over who was more important in the Targaryen family. But at the end of the day, I have to agree with you. If it weren't for Daenys our house would be ash in the wind never to be heard of again like so many other Valyrian houses. 

But something I've noticed is how in each letter since you've gotten your younger siblings, you always want to talk about them. You truly are just an excited big sister wanting to show off her younger siblings. 

Though the thing that hurts most is watching you grow only through your writing. How things used to be so misspelled and scratchy upon the paper is now refined and perfectly spelled. It hurts not knowing how you look now and only having the frail little girl who screamed for me to come back to remember as my last memory of your face. 

But three things stuck out to me, your dragon hasn't been laying viable eggs ever since I and Caraxes left. And then there is the fact your Father is trying to use you to make me behave. And sadly it's working  But the thing that sticks out the most is your last line. 

I miss you, come home soon. 

You have never sent this, it was always write soon, never come home. And for some reason, that one line makes me stand up and look at the battle plan one last time. 

It isn't the worst plan I've seen. I think before walking out of my tent towards Lord Corlys to get our troops moving to their correct places. 

Your pov

I sit on the settee holding Helaena. She looks adorable with her chubby cheeks and dark violet eyes that almost look like wine. 

“She's so quiet. I thought she would do more.” Aegon says from beside me. He looks down at her with curiosity and apprehension because when he plays she usually starts crying. 

I turn to look at him as he assesses Helaena with a wary look. 

“You were like this, you just screamed more.” I tease which makes him gasp with his eyes wide and a scowl on his lips making it very clear his dislike of my words. 

“I did not!” He yells but thankfully it doesn't startle Helaena this time. 

“Well do you remember what you were like, my Love?” Ali asks from her spot in front of her vanity. Her maids braid her hair in intricate designs. 

Something fit for a Queen. The words Father always says each time he watches my maids braid mine. He says they have to look perfect or else it will give or house judgment. I'm not sure how hair or dresses changes so much in the way the court looks at our house but Father is insistent. 

“Well, no, but I don't scream.” Aegon says animatedly. This time a whimper comes from Helaena at his raised voice. 

“Of course you don't.” Ali says with a teasing grin before standing up and walking towards us. She takes one look at Helaena's scrunched up face and reaches down to pick her up. “And what have I said about keeping your voice down while Helaena sleeps?” 

Aegon looks down at the gentle reminder. “To try and be calm. Sorry Mama, I really am trying.” He says as his lower lip wobbles. 

“I know you are, and you're doing so well. I know it's hard to real in all your joy.” She says as she strokes her fingers through his hair calming him down. 

He looks up with a pout while nodding his head. “Yeah.” Is all he says as he leans into Ali's touch. 

I look up at her taking in her dress that is black with a red bodice and long red sleeves. She looks beautiful in it, but it doesn't feel like it was made for her.

I then look down at my dress that is a deep scarlet with gold embroidery of flowers along the sleeves and bodice. It's also a very beautiful dress, but just like Ali's it just isn't me. 

“Your sister sent a raven, she says there has yet to be a match made and that she is…enjoying this trip. She should be at Storms End now as we speak.” Ali says and I can tell she changed a lot of words from what Rhaenyra actually sent. 

“I'm glad she's enjoying it.” Is all I say before turning to look at the books I need to study. 

Can't hold Helaena forever, you have to get this done. I think before picking up the book on how to sit on the throne properly. I never realized there were so many ways to do this wrong, but supposedly Maester Huebert does. 

“Has your Uncle sent anything back yet?” Ali says as she tries and calms Helaena down after a maid accidentally dropped a chamber pot. Thankfully it was clean. 

“No, not yet, though it usually takes a bit because of the war.” I say with a frown. It's been two weeks since I sent my raven. I know I should be patient but the last time he took this long he got hurt. And some part of me worries if he is even alive.

No you would know if he died, you would know. I think with urgency hoping to throw that awful thought out of my mind for good. 

Just as I think this a resounding screech reaches my ears. 

I know that sounds. I think clambering towards the window to see if my kind is playing tricks on me or not. 

“What's that long red thing?” I hear Aegon say and I know that what I'm seeing is true. 

“He's back.” I whisper to myself before turning to Ali who whispers to her maids. 

“I am needed in the throne room, you three stay here. Though your Father may wish for you to come as well but as of now stay here and watch after your siblings and study.” She says before walking out of her chambers.

I have to force myself to not run after her. Because I know why she made me stay. Just because Caraxes is back, doesn't mean Kepus is. And she doesn't want me to get hurt hoping he's back. 

So instead I turn towards Aegon who stares at the door confused and hold a hand out for him. 

“Why don't you practice your letters while I study? It could be fun.” I suggest and I can tell he doesn't like the idea but he nods anyways taking my hand as we walk back to the settee. 

Please be back, please be alive. I pray hoping that whatever gods are out there hear me and make my prayers come true. 

I feel tense as I walk towards the royal gardens. I can't help but try and remember what he looked like but all I get is hazy images and it hurts not knowing what he looked like. I dare not even try and remember what Mama looked like, for I know it will only shatter my heart completely. 

I look down at my bracelet taking in the pearls and rubies. I then fiddle with my necklace trying to see if these items will make any memories of his face rise up. But it is futile, it's been too long since I've seen his face to know exactly what he looked like. 

So instead I decide to stand straight and walk into the gardens as was my Father's request. 

When I do I notice all the Lords and Ladies whispering and glancing towards Ali, Father, someone who I know has to be Rhaenyra but that can't be right because she's supposed to be at Storms End, and a man who in the deepest parts of my soul I know is my Kepus. 

I don't hesitate to walk towards them, only catching the end of Father's jest. 

“You were always Mother’s favorite, she was wild and free and sadly I was no great warrior.” 

I go to speak but Rhaenyra beats me to it. 

“It's wonderful to see you Uncle.” 

I frown at the way she looks at him, the way her eyes flutter and she gently bites her lip before releasing it. 

I may be young but I know she is trying to flirt or seduce Kepus. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. But what I also notice is how tense the atmosphere becomes with just those simple words. 

She wasn't supposed to be back, Father must be livid. I think, eyeing him and quickly notice the scowl that overtakes his usually calm and collected features. 

“Thank you Niece.” He says with a tight smile before he turns and looks down at me. 

I freeze, not sure how to start the conversation. It's been so long that I have only been able to hear his words through ravens that now that I may actually talk to him the words are missing. 

“Would you like to see the tapestries? We have just received some from Myr.” Ali says with a pinched smile obviously not liking how much wine Father has drunk already. 

I smile excited to show him my favorites when Father bursts out laughing.

“Would you like to see them? Would you?” He asks in an obvious jesting tone. “He has no interest in such things.” He says with a dismissive wave. 

“I would like to see them.” Rhaenyra says out of nowhere staring at Father with that look that usually means she wants to start an argument. 

“Oh well then deprive yourself.” Father says waving her off. 

I've never seen nor heard him speak to Rhaenyra like this so I'm shocked, frozen in place hoping if I do not speak or move I will not be the object of their wrath next. 

Thankfully Rhaenyra walks away with a huff sitting on a bench as she inspects her nails. 

“Do not worry, your Father is only a bit…disoriented. He does not mean his harsh words.” Ali says, noticing my tense shoulders before she decides to walk over to Rhaenyra. 

And once I'm alone between my obviously drunk Father, and my Kepus who I haven't spoken to in years. Well it is an easy choice to try and find Laena and Nymeria. 

So with a quick curtsy I turn and walk towards the food table where Laena and Nymeria seem to be bickering. 

“Lemon cake is obviously the better choice.” Nymeria says before biting into one with a triumphant smirk. 

“Please, raspberry crumble is the best.” Laena responds before taking a bite of her sweet treat. 

I watch them stare each other down before clearing my throat and making them gasp and turn to face me before they quickly relax. 

“Which do you think is better!” They say at the same time only ti turn to the other and glare once more.

I stop for a second before moving forward and picking up a honey cake. 

“I much prefer the honey cakes.” I say, eyeing them as I take a bite letting the sweet flavor of honey and sugar fill my pallet. “Maybe instead of fighting over which is the best, we all just agree we like different things?” I suggest which seems to work until Nymeria whispers to herself and the argument starts up again. 

I look down and sigh in annoyance, this is not what I was hoping for when I wanted to escape the tension of my family. 

So just as quickly as I sought them out, I walked away for some solitude. Though I never am truly alone, for the clank of armor follows after me and I know who it is. 

I take a seat on a bench looking at the weirwood tree wondering how best to approach Kepus. When I hear Ssr Criston finally stop behind me I turn to look up at him. 

“Why is it so hard to talk to him? We sent letters for all those years, so why can't I speak to him?” I ask as tears rim my eyes that I fight to push down. 

An heir cannot look weak. I think wiping at my eyes fervently. 

He sighs with a look that almost seems pained. Like seeing me so hurt and confused hurts him. But why would it? It isn't him that is feeling this way. 

“Mayhaps because of the letters.” He says with a look of pity. 

Do not pity me, that means I'm weak and Father will hate me more. I think as I mull over his words. 

“What do you mean?” 

He looks up in thought before letting out a long sigh. “You didn't have to face him when you spoke your words. You didn't even need to speak them. You write all your thoughts down and send them to him. You didn't need to worry about his reaction because he wasn't in front of you.” He says before looking down at me again. “That is at least my guess, Your Grace.” 

I think over his words before looking at my Kepus who seems to he walking towards me. 

“Thank you, Ser Criston. You may leave me.” 

He gives a quick bow before walking a few paces away to give me and my Kepus privacy. 

“I was wondering where you had gone.” I hear him say. I remember that voice, the teasing lilt after each word. The way it always made me feel safe even now. 

But yet again no words leave me, I only look up at him fighting tears that demand to fall. 

Instead of speaking of my obvious hurt he sits next to me, warping an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to his chest. And without thought, without caring, I let all my pain, worry, and confusion out. 

He rubs my back gently telling me to ‘let it all out’. I know that if Father sees me in this state there will be more lessons on how to act among Lords and Ladies. But I don't care, because for the first time in a long time I feel completely and utterly safe. 

I don't know how long I cried, but what I do know is by the time I'm done I feel like all the weight has left my shoulders and I can finally breathe again. So I lift my head finding a clear wet spot on his jerkin and sit straight against the back of the bench once more. 

“I'm sorry.” I whisper looking down at my hands as I chew at my lip. 

“And what do you have to be sorry for?” He asks as he puts his forefinger under my chin to force me to look at him. 

I stop letting myself take in his features once more. 

He has a strong jaw that seems tense right now. High cheekbones, and his long straight nose. His hair is the same silver blonde as I remember, only it's shorter. But it's his eyes that I know, his eyes that I have always been able to remember. Those deep lilacs that always seem to have mischief in them as well as something darker, something dangerous. But that is never shown towards me and I never understood why. 

I'm brought back by the tapping of his finger on my chin. He seems almost amused which leads me to believe he caught me inspecting his features. 

“I ruined your jerkin.” I finally say which only makes him throw his head back laughing. “What's so funny?” I ask, confusion washing over my face. 

“I don't care about the jerkin, ñuha riña. What I'm more worried about is you.” He says and I can't help the way my heart squeezes in joy when he uses my nickname. 

“I'm fine.” I say but I can tell he knows it's a lie, I mean I did just sob into his chest so I can't blame him. 

He hums before picking something up from beside him. It is only now that I realize he was carrying something. 

“I heard you were in need of this. And who would I be if I didn't bring it to you?” and there in his James is a new copy of the story of Daenys the Dreamer and her brother husband Gaemon. 

“You found it.” I say in awe as I take it from him feeling the soft leather as I open the book to find all the same paintings and pictures that were in my old one. 

“Well you did ask me to.” He says in his teasing tone. 

“No, I asked you to tell me where to get it.” I correct with a cheeky grin. 

This makes him chuckle and I can't help but smile when his eyes crinkle in the way that always means he is happy. 

“Well you're welcome nonetheless.” 

I giggle flipping through the pages reading some of my favorite passages. We sit like this for a while, in silence. Not the kind where you feel stiff and like you can't breathe, the kind where you feel safe and loved. 

That is until I look up at him again and find him reading the book over my shoulder. 

“If you want to read it, get one yourself.” I scold holding the book to my chest. 

He raises a brow in shock giving me a playful smirk. 

“I'm sorry, you're right I will read one I paid for.” He says before taking the book back and starts reading it. 

“Hey!” I yell trying to reach for it but he holds it just out of my reach. 

“I'm doing what you told me to do, ñuha riña.” He says with what I've heard would be called a shit eating grin. 

“Please.” Is all I say holding my hands out for my book. I'm not sure if it will work until I look up at him and he seems so…soft. Like he can't say no to me in this moment. It's a strange feeling after so many years of having cold looks from everyone but Ali and my younger siblings. 

“Fine, but you better let me borrow it.” He says and I can't help but giggle because for some reason I know I will more than likely be reading it with him. 

“Agreed.” I hold my hand out for him to shake and he does before bending down to kiss my knuckles. 

The rest of the afternoon we spend reading or he's making me tell stories about the times when he was away. Like the first time I got to hold Aegon, or how many times have me and Laena almost given our parents heart attacks while flying. 

“Well it sounds like a lot happened while I was gone.” He says almost mournfully. And his face is grief stricken. I can't help but frown when I see it, he didn't want to leave. 

I can't help but kick myself for all the times I thought he left because he was tired of us. 

I decide to lean into him and hug him as tight as I can. “I missed you.” I say and for some reason he tenses at my words. Almost as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. 

I feel his arms wrap around mine as he kisses the crown of my head. “I missed you as well, ñuha riña.” 

But for some reason my mind decided to turn my head and I noticed Rhaenyra with her guard Ser Daniel Karstark. I frown at the way they look at each other. 

Rhaenyra is doing that eye thing again and he is brushing the hair from her shoulder. It looks like they are courting but that can't be right he's a Kingsguard. They can't marry anyone. 

But even though I know this, and I know they know this. I can't help but wonder if they care.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fiction! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @themoonlitquill @technicallylegendaryenemy @thelastemzy @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar

[lady-a-stuff]

I was raised a catholic, my family and relatives are catholic and with this background Bev Keane it's the scariest thing out there. A woman of faith, too much faith. She believes that because she goes to church she is a good person and that she hasn't sinned and deserves the love of god, while people who don't go to church or have committed some sin (according to her) don't deserve and it bothers her that Father Paul and God loves all those renegades and sinners, and yet she still believes she is good. She is the woman who will judge you and turn the back and say you should be afraid of going to hell while not having this fear cause she is good.

But worse than that is that she's a woman with knowledge in her religion and she uses this knowledge to manipulate the reality and people. She's able to quote the bible, but only the parts that interest her and she distorts the text and its meaning to fit in her believe, and the reason she can manipulate everyone is that she's the only one with that knowledge of the bible. We have Monseigneur Pruitt/Father Paul who technically should have know too, but honestly we can't blame the man for get carried away he's literally a vampire. But anyway all the others faithfuls don't know, so when Wade and Sturge see Father Paul besides a dead Joe Collie they are afraid, they don't wanna to simply dump his body, it is Bev who, using the bible, convinces them. Simply like that.

So what is really scary is that we have a lot of religious people who don't know a shit about their religion so are easily manipulate by someone who knows.

[napoftustar]

my best friend came to me said “one of our friends wanted to know/try out kpop and while others were sending blackpink, exo, bts songs i sent her txt!!! i’m the best, right???” HAHAHSGQGSHFJFJEJKDMQHF and i was like “proud of you lil soldier” hahsbdnwjqkdjxdmwkkf

[autistic-katara]

there r fics that make u insane (so amazingly good it’s removed ur sanity) and then there’s fics that make u insane (you need to fistfight the author for how they did a specific thing that caused u to rant for hours)

[kuiinncedes]

akdbdndjshdf

[geddy-leesbian]

it's honestly so fucked up that we'll never get a Gaiden remake she deserves a remake glow up 😔

[kavehayati]

“But my luck is so horrible so I had to pull thirty times just to get him” GIRL thirty pulls is actually nothing wdym 😭 me with 65 pulls until I got my first kaveh is crazier ☠️

[phagodyke]

SUDDENLY STARTED RAINING SO HARD WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK

[joelsgoldrush]

“never is a promise” | 12.4k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ mentions of drinking. angst. some fluff. old man!logan x caregiver!reader. implied age gap (reader’s in her twenties). miscommunication. slow burn. pining. reader is shorter than logan and has long hair. charles in his cupid era. petnames. minor injuries. wound tending. mentions of blood. virgin!reader. dirty talk. cum shots. fingering. handjobs. oral sex (m receiving). loving sex. sex with a lot of feelings (is that a tag?). unprotected p in v.

A/N: i just want to fall in love with him. that’s it. that’s the reason why i wrote this long ass fic 😭 while doing so, i had “never is a promise” by fiona apple and “cool about it” by boygenius on repeat. give them a try if you haven’t listened to them (your lives will be CHANGED) (also, thank you for reading <3)

No matter how often you play chess with Charles, you never manage to beat him. 

“You’ve been staring at that knight for five minutes. It’s not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chuckling at his sarcasm, you fold your hands in your lap, lifting your eyebrows in mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. You’re the master of chess,” leaning back in the chair, you cross one leg over the other. “Can we play something else?”

“I’m quite entertained, thank you,” Charles says, sliding the board closer to you across the table. “Your turn.”

“How is it that you don’t get tired of this game?” you mutter under your breath, eyes fixed on the board as you weigh your options, hovering your hand indecisively over the chess pieces. 

“Please do something before I’m forced to make a dash for the toilet.” He hangs his head, pinching the bridge of his nose—a telltale sign of one of his irritable days.

His words spur you into action, encouraging you to finally slide the knight into position. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a hint of challenge. “You go now.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate, and he moves a bishop. “Check.”

Fuck. You hadn’t seen that coming. “I’d prefer to walk away with my pride,” you joke, pushing your chair back and pretending to lose interest in the board.

That makes him smirk, a barely there grin dangling on the corners of his wrinkled lips. The truth is, you wouldn’t stop playing for anything in the world—not even if this old man kicks your ass every single time he suggests playing chess. “You’re not out of the game yet.”

Quietness settles over the tank while you allow yourself some time to come up with a new strategy. After a moment, you decide to go for a pawn, using it to block his bishop.

He doesn’t stop grinning, studying your move with an amused glint in his blue eyes. “Not bad, but you’ve left your king exposed.”

You gape at the board, your fragile confidence faltering for a split second. "I still have some pieces in play."

Charles nods, his brows drawing together in thoughtful consideration. "True. But sometimes, it’s not about how many pieces you have left—” He reaches out, carefully sliding his queen across the board. "It’s about where you place them.” He relaxes, hunching over, his eyes searching for yours. A smile that’s all teeth welcomes you. “Checkmate."

“Damn.” You blow out your cheeks, your gaze tracing the path of his queen. Somehow, he’s trapped your king with no easy way out.

He leans back with a satisfied grin. “That’s three games in a row. My suggestion is that you start rethinking your strategy.”

“Or maybe you’re just a better player,” you admit, a mix of frustration and admiration palpable in your tone. “No more chess for today, though.” You stand up from your seat, gathering the board and chess pieces. As usual, they find their place under Charles’ bed, and you turn back to him, beaming with delight. “I think you owe me one after all this.”

“You’re a terrible loser, my dear,” he says, his eyes twinkling as they take you in. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

At that exact moment, you hear the familiar creak of the tank’s door opening, followed by a cough you immediately recognize.

Without thinking, you straighten your back as Logan steps into the room. Charles notices it, but says nothing in return.

It was an infatuation—or at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself of. Logan is a very good-looking man, probably the most handsome you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The fact that you live with him doesn’t help at all. You think that if you only saw him occasionally, this—this anxiety that grips you whenever he’s around or when you hear his voice—wouldn’t happen in the first place.

Whether it’s good or bad luck, you’ve been sleeping under the same roof as him for over a year, and the crush you’ve had since the first time you exchanged words with him only seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

What you figure out over time is that men like Logan aren’t the dating type. He’s never brought anyone home, and for that, you’re secretly grateful. The last thing you need is to see him with another woman—thank you very much. Still, the thought gnaws at you: he could easily be meeting someone elsewhere.

In fact, it’s more than likely that he’s hooking up with other people. It doesn’t have to be at—

Alright. You don’t need this either.

Logan’s heavy footsteps resonate even louder, his presence more imposing, and he seems especially pissed off. Then again, he always has that demeanor—angry, grumpy, locked in a constant battle with life.

But today… today, you haven’t seen him this troubled in weeks.

“Look who’s joined us,” Charles mumbles, steering his motorized chair to meet him halfway. The chair bumps against Logan’s legs with a thud that sounds almost cartoonish, and Charles scrunches up his nose, his nostrils flaring in disgust. “You smell like shit.”

“Yeah, I missed you too, Pop,” Logan grunts, shoving his hand into the pocket of his suit, searching for something. That’s when you notice the bloodstains on his shirt, smeared across his chest, and the missing buttons at the top. Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite your tongue to keep from asking any foolish questions. “They gave me new ones,” he mutters, looking you in the eye as he tosses the pill bottle at you.

You leap forward to catch it mid-air, your heart skipping a beat. Logan holds your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before giving a slight nod and turning on his heel to storm out of the tank.

When your attention goes back to Charles, you see how his eyes remain locked on the pills you’re holding, his head lowering in defeat. “He’s waiting for me to die.”

“Don’t say that.” You squat to be at his eye level, momentarily hiding the meds from his view. Still, you struggle to make him shift his gaze. “He’s taking care of you, which is something completely different.” You place your hand on top of his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. You’ve had this same conversation innumerable times, yet each time feels like the first. He offers you a melancholic but knowing look as you softly say: “You have to take them, Charles. I’m sorry.”

He raises a hand, his trembling fingers curling around your wrist, examining you, trying to find an answer in the lines. “Don’t be. At least you’re here.”

“I’m sure Logan’s tired; that’s why he doesn’t stay any longer. Haven’t you seen him?” You rise to your feet, moving behind him to guide his chair. The tank sort of has a chill in the air, metallic walls that seem to press in around you both. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to play chess with him. Rest assured I’ll always let you win,” you murmur next to his ear, succeeding in eliciting a chuckle from him.

After that, you help him with his daily routine. Charles isn’t heavy, and you manage to get him onto the bed, his frail body yielding to your gentle support.

You slip the rest of his body beneath the blankets, tucking him in carefully before handing him two pills and a glass of water. “All the way down, okay? And I wanna see that tongue after you swallow them.”

If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under, covered in dust and dirt. Charles sticks his tongue out, putting the glass down on his nightstand. “Happy?”

“You’ve got no idea how much,” you say, adjusting the covers. The silence of the tank surrounds you both, and you can sense his gaze lingering on you. You flick your eyes up, furrowing your brows as you sit in the small space beside him on the mattress. “What is it?”

“You fancy him, don’t you?”

Freezing on the spot, your eyes narrow. “I—I don’t—” you trail off, pushing the words out with some effort. “Are you trying to read my mind?”

His whole chest rumbles with laughter under your touch. He finds your hand once again, intertwining your fingers with his. “Don’t be so naïve. I don’t need my abilities to see the way you get all flustered when he passes by. Why do you think they say older people are wiser?” he inquires, his lips forming a straight line. “We’ve lived too much not to notice the most common things, my dear—and let me tell you that you do a horrible job at pretending.”

“Of course I like him. Logan’s a good man, he keeps us safe.” You glance down at your hands—his, weak and delicate, in evident contrast to your own. “I’m not in love with him, Cupid.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him years ago,” Charles says, his eyes glazing over as he drifts back into the past. His body remains here, within the confines of the room, but his mind is elsewhere, somewhere far away. You give his hand a gentle tug, trying to bring him back. “When we took him in, he was pursuing a career as a cage fighter. I had never seen anyone like him in all my years of educating mutants. He was so… different from the rest. Reserved, didn’t talk much at first. But I gave him a family, I—” His voice falters, overcome by his own emotions. 

That’s when you realize he’s no longer with you, his gaze unfocused, looking around the tank as if seeing it for the first time. It pains you to see him like this, completely disoriented and disconnected from reality.

“Why are we here? What has happened to the rest? Has he told you anything?”

These are the questions he asks every day without fail—questions that you can’t, nor want, to answer. Since you’re not exactly sure the explanation would soothe his troubled mind, you feel forced to play dumb.

“I don’t know, Charles. We don’t really talk that much, Logan and I.” You stand from the bed, not without pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead before. You smile at him, hoping he doesn’t realize the gesture lacks authenticity. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll let you know if I hear anything worth sharing.”

Once you close the door behind you, you settle back into it, releasing a shaky breath. Being Charles’ caregiver was a challenging task, especially in moments like these, which required immense internal strength not to crumble in front of him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you adjust to the harsh sunlight, fighting to regain your composure. When you finally scan the area, the only thing that meets your eye is the deserted smelting plant you now call home.

You open the sliding door, the noise breaking the stillness and forcing Logan to look up from his plate. He’s eating like a starved man, casually drinking from a small bottle of whisky on the table, already half of it gone. After those long drives through the nights and the early hours, he always returns hungry.

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, setting it on the stove to heat. Neither of you says anything for a few minutes: he eats, and you sip your hot coffee in silence, not wishing to disturb the breakable peace that hangs by a thread.

Thinking this is how the noon will continue, you begin to walk toward your room until he clears his throat, stopping you in your tracks. That simple gesture makes you whirl around, anticipating something.

“This is delicious,” he acknowledges, pointing to his plate with his fork, the rice with veggies and meat you cooked last night nearly gone. Dipping his chin, he adds in a low voice: “Thank you.”

You’re taken aback by his unexpected willingness to engage in conversation. Moments like these are as rare as seeing Halley’s Comet, so you proceed with caution, as if you’re approaching a skittish animal—one wrong move, and the opportunity is lost.

Setting your mug down on the table, you sit on the chair opposite him. Deep down, the hammering of your heart echoes in your ears, and you hope his sharp senses don’t pick up on it.

“I’m glad you liked it. Charles ate two bowls of it,” you explain, unable to suppress a smile. Logan hums, tilting his head to the side as he keeps devouring his meal. You take another sip of your coffee, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it down. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Huh?”

“Charles. He—he asks to see you a lot,” you begin, carefully choosing your words. “I know it’s none of my business, but I think it would make him feel better if you spent more time with him.”

The sound of a distant train rumbles through the walls, amplifying the silence between you. Logan doesn’t utter a word; instead, he puts down his fork, the clinking noise making you jump slightly, the intensity of his stare becoming overwhelming.

“You’re right about one thing—what I do or don’t do is none of your goddamn business.”

Just like that, the buildup dissolves in a matter of seconds. You bite down on the inside of your cheek, nodding absentmindedly. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. How stupid were you to think he might want to talk to you?  “I just—I want to be of help.”

“Just take care of Charles. That’s all you gotta worry about, all I’ve ever asked you to do,” he barks, clenching his jaw, and you can tell he means each word.

When he talks to you in this tone, it makes you think more rationally—it reminds you that you don’t really know him, and yet you agreed to work for him in exchange for a roof over your head and food on your plate. He’s not your friend, and he’s excellent at making that crystal clear every time you cross the line.

Logan pushes you away like you’re nothing, like you’re just another of the many burdens he has to deal with.

It should be enough to send you running to your room, but despite the knot tightening in your belly, you somehow remain rooted in place, your eyes sharp like daggers.

As another train echoes in the silence, you come to terms with the knowledge that one more question will drive him away.

And sometimes, you speak before you think, as you do now: “Whose blood is that on your shirt?” you ask, voice steady and cold. Perhaps it’s you who wants him to leave this time.

He shakes his head with offense, frustration crinkling his eyes. “I don’t need this shit,” he groans, his gruff voice loud enough for you to hear it. He gets up from the table, placing his plate in the sink without much delicacy. At last, he heads to his room, slamming the door with a deafening thud that reverberates through the entire place.

It’s not a crush, that voice deep inside you insists as you’re left alone in the kitchen. And it’s valid: a mere crush wouldn't cause this kind of pain, wouldn’t make your chest feel this heavy and your limbs numb.

Whenever he leaves, he takes a part of you with him, never to be returned. By now, you’re certain he’s stolen all those missing pieces from you, and you’ve got no idea how much longer you can endure before you shatter completely.

You seem to have won this battle, but what you end up losing is far greater than any fleeting gratification.

Loving Logan is maddening, to say the least.

To this day, you still recall every detail of the night that altered the course of your life—the night you met Logan.

The memories are rather vivid in your mind, and you revisit that moment on nights like these, when you can’t sleep and the past appears to be much more appealing than your present.

Pressing your cheek against the cold pillow, you let your eyelids drop, reconstructing the full scene behind your sealed eyes.

It was your third week working at that restaurant, and you were still getting used to its daily rhythm. Waitressing was working wonders for you—you had a good memory, and people often gave you generous tips.

Everything was going well: you were the only waitress on shift, and your boss had left for a brief errand, promising he would be back soon.

During this lull, a group of men entered the restaurant, already drunk or high—probably both. They sat at one of the empty tables, immediately calling for you.

One of them, a tall blonde, was the loudest. “Come here, baby.” He pointed his finger at you, gesturing for you to approach him. The nickname felt wrong rolling off his tongue, and as you obliged, he shoved a handful of bills into the front pocket of your apron. He clutched your waist, dragging you nearer. “I’m getting married tomorrow. Think you can do something special for me?”

His friends cheered him on, laughing and pounding their fists on the table. You managed to slip from his grasp and asked them what they wanted to order.

While they took their time deciding, you noticed a limousine parked in the distance, probably the vehicle that had brought these morons here. The driver rolled down his window, hanging his arm from the armrest.

Though you couldn’t see his features, the interaction alone was enough to make you look away.

An hour went by, and the men refused to take off. They’d eaten, drunk, and danced—and driven you crazy in the process. The rest of the customers had decided to leave once they realized the night was far from finishing for the noisy group of friends. You apologized, feeling incapable of doing anything to change the situation.

Your sanity felt threatened as you turned off the TV, ending the sixth round of karaoke, their shouts and hoots ringing in your ears.

“We’re closing in ten minutes,” you informed them, starting to collect their dirty plates and glasses. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the blonde man standing right beside you, his piercing blue eyes burning holes through your skin. He attempted to graze your shoulder, but you quickly stepped back, keeping a safe distance between you. “How do you plan to pay? Cash or credit?”

“How about with a kiss, huh?” He inched forward, his face dangerously close to yours. Unaccustomed to being approached in this manner, you ducked your head, unsure of your next move. His breath reeked of beer and vodka, a horrendous combination that had you nearly gagging on the spot.

As he backed you against the counter, one of his large hands cradled your face, urging you to make eye contact with him. “I swear I can be very, very nice. You haven’t given me the chance to show it yet.”

“Hey, pal. You said one hour.”

The first time you heard his voice—low and husky, the kind that could send shivers down your spine.

Your eyes locked with Logan’s, your pleading gaze seemingly stirring something in him as he got a grip on the situation. His brows bumped together in a scowl, and you didn’t miss how he limped as he made his way into the restaurant.

There was something about him—how he moved, his stance—that felt strangely familiar.

“We’re busy in here, chauffeur,” the blue-eyed man protested, slightly losing his balance while still holding your cheek.

Your rescuer squared off against him, their noses practically brushing. He worked his jaw, his half-lidded, tired eyes taking in the sight of you. “I’m no fortune-teller, but I don’t think she’s into you, bub.”

“Come again?” the blonde guy released you, much more concerned with defending his bruised pride. “What’s the matter, Grandpa? Is it past your bedtime?”

“I want you to pay me for the ride, and for waiting a fucking hour and a half for you and your friends,” the older man spat, jerking his thumb toward the limousine. “I’m not taking you back to the hotel. You might want to start looking’ for another driver.”

The group of men closed in around him, their anger bubbling. “That’s not cool, dude. We had a deal,” another voice snapped, but Logan couldn’t seem to care less.

“Well, the deal’s off. And leave the girl alone, will you?” he retorted, his tone dripping with disdain. “So, where’s my money?”

He couldn’t have predicted it. One of the men behind him swung a plate, striking him in the nape and catching him off guard. Logan collapsed to the floor, clutching his head in pain. The others took the opportunity and began to pummel him, kicks and punches landing wherever they could.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, desperately trying to intervene. You grabbed at their clothes, digging your fingernails into every patch of exposed skin you could find, but they shoved you aside with brutal force. Your back slammed against the nearest wall, a jolt of sudden pain making you wince.

The blood in your veins turned to ice as you watched, paralyzed with fear that they might kill him. But then—

Three metallic claws emerged from his knuckles, and he used them to push himself upright. Despite the blood smeared across his nose and mouth, he managed to stand, his quickened breathing coming out in short puffs.

The men backed away in shock, leaving him alone amidst the chaos. 

You stared at him, your hands trembling as recognition dawned: it was The Wolverine.

The familiarity, the sense of having seen him before, all made sense now. It all flooded back in a rush—the comics, the news, the rumors.

“Get the hell outta my sight,” he growled, pressing his claws against the fabric of the blue-eyed man’s jacket, making him flinch.

You couldn’t make out what you were feeling. It wasn’t fear, but intrigue. Even as the group of men fled the restaurant, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. At first, he avoided your gaze, focusing on his shoes as he retracted his claws.

Once the immediate danger had passed, he slumped forward, groaning. You gently draped one of his arms around your shoulders and helped him into a nearby chair. His weight felt like a thousand bricks, but you accomplished to get him seated.

He rubbed a shaky hand over his graying beard, his face twisting in pain as you pressed a makeshift towel of napkins against his lower lip, where blood continued to flow.

Taking the towel from you, he continued tending to himself. You scanned his features, scrutinizing him.

“You are…” you began, the words feeling inadequate at the moment.

Logan nodded hesitantly, his silence confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, that’s me,” he tugged at his shirt collar, exposing some of his chest hair, fresh blood staining his work clothes. Your gaze fell there, and you quickly chided yourself.

The poor guy was bleeding, and you were checking him out. Jeez.

Kneeling by his side, you introduced yourself. “Thank you for stepping up for me,” you said afterward, and he shook his head dismissively. “They were a pain in the ass. I don’t know how you even managed to drive them here.”

“Money’s money, darlin’. Doesn’t matter where it comes from, as long as—” he was interrupted by a coughing fit, and your concern deepened as you continued to spot more of his injuries. “I’ll heal,” he reassured you, his expression softening in an attempt to calm your anxiety.

Your eyes pierced his with an intensity that seemed to unsettle him. Warmth crept into your cheeks as a question surfaced in your mind: “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You don’t owe me anything, kid,” he replied, a hint of gruffness in his voice.

“But I could help you,” you persisted, your voice betraying a touch of eagerness. Stifling a cough, you tried to mask your enthusiasm, and sighed. “Are you hungry? I could cook you something, or pour you a drink. We’ve got plenty of liquor—”

Logan interrupted you, placing the towel down on the table. “Have you ever taken care of an old person?” 

Tilting your head, you considered his question. “How old?”

“Ninety-somethin’.”

You nodded, memories of the events from years ago surfacing. “I lived with my grandparents for most of my life. When they fell ill, I spent a lot of time with them. My mom had to work long hours, and I—well, the point is, I did take care of them,” you paused for an instant, his expression unreadable, though you perceived a slight relaxation in his posture, as if your answer had put him at ease. “I like being around old people. They have stories to tell,” you added, a genuine smile breaking through, “and I’m a good listener.”

“Then I suppose there is somethin’ you can help me with.”

And so began a new chapter in your life.

The very next day, you were moving in with him and Charles. It took several weeks for the latter to warm up to you and get used to your presence.

Initially, he was hopeful that you might also be a mutant, but his disappointment was palpable when he discovered you lacked any supernatural gifts. Leaving that aside, he valued your company.

“The shots mellow the seizures. The pills keep them from happening,” Logan had once explained, detailing the medications Charles needed. You recalled the psychic attack from a year ago and its consequences, but that wasn’t a topic to be discussed with Logan, and you understood why.

“Where do you get these?” you asked, examining the bottle of pills with a curious glance. “Without a prescription, I mean.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna know.”

Soon, you got adapted to the whole package: his unpredictable temperament, his mood swings, and his nightmares. Logan Howlett was a puzzle box of surprises, one you could never quite unlock.

Fast forward to the present day, you realize it must be already late, because Logan’s heading to work. You stand on your tiptoes, peering out of your bedroom window. Your humid breath fogs the glass as his eyes find yours, and then he slips into the vehicle, blending into the shadows of the night.

The distant rumble of his limousine signals his departure, your forehead pressed against the glass, as if somehow that could take you with him.

There goes another piece of you.

You find yourself shaving Charles the moment worry takes over your senses.

He’s retelling a familiar story: that one time Logan, Scott, Jean, and Storm saved Rogue from Magneto.

On any other day, you wouldn’t mind listening to his stories, despite having heard them countless times. This one in particular is your favorite.

But today, it’s hard to focus on it, even more when one of its main characters is missing in action.

Logan hasn’t come back home yet.

It’s been an entire day, and he’s usually back by morning to rest. Now, after having cooked dinner and helping Charles shower, you’ve run out of distractions. There’s nothing left to occupy your thoughts, nothing to ease the building anxiety gnawing at you.

You texted him multiple times—no answer. You even called—also nothing. Every time Charles asks if Logan’s at work or sleeping, the knot in your chest tightens. That’s when your mind starts to spiral, and you’re convinced you’ll burst any moment.

After putting him to bed, you pace the kitchen, picking at your nails and biting the raw skin around them. The sting of pain is there, but it’s faint, not enough to overshadow the real fear clawing at your insides.

All these what-ifs that storm through your mind make you feel nauseous: what if he’s dead? What would you do with Charles? How would you provide for both of you without a salary?

Just as you’re about to dial his number again, Logan materializes out of thin air through the sliding door.

He’s got a dark bruise under his right eye, and his once-white shirt is littered with bloodstains. You stare at him—he’s limping harder than usual, each of his movements slower.

Walking towards him, your hands cup his face. His skin feels rough beneath your fingers, and he lets out a grunt as you graze his split lip. “What happened?”

“They were followin’ me. Had been doin’ so for a few days now,” he says, making no effort to pull away.

“Did you kill them?” you wonder out loud, still inspecting his injuries. The pad of your thumb hovers inches away from his bruised mouth.

Covering your hands with his, Logan ducks his head, closing his eyes for a brief second and swallowing thickly. “Somebody had to do it, sweetheart.”

You limit yourself to a nod, because you know there’s nothing you can reproach him for. You were no stranger to the idea of him killing. It was an implicit truth between you.

“I thought—I was so scared, and I—” your voice wavers, and you feel your eyes watering, the tears prickling at the corners. “I thought you—”

He doesn’t let you finish, already knowing how it would end. “Hey, look at me,” he’s the one touching you now, tilting your chin up. Your eyes keep flickering over the cuts and old scars you spot on his cheeks, his neck. Logan forces a pained smile, unable to hide his discomfort. “It’s fine, I’m alright. Just a bit fucked up, but nothin’ you haven’t seen before,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood, and it works. You bite your lower lip, suppressing your grin. “I always come back, don’t I?”

“But you can barely stand,” you whisper, not sure why you’re speaking so softly. You make him turn his back to you, helping him shrug off his coat. As expected, remnants of dried blood decorate his shirt like highlights. “Let me help you.” 

“I don’t—”

”There are cuts all over your back. And your chest—you’re not healing properly,” you say, turning him to face you again. The look on his face suggests only one thing: he’s about to throw in the towel. “You don’t have to do everything on your own.” You think you’ve never been this close before, his proximity both intoxicating and comforting at the same time. “Please.”

He ends up giving in to your persuasion, allowing you to guide him to the bathroom. Logan sits down on the toilet, watching you gather supplies to clean his wounds. When you come back, he’s still staring at you, his eyelashes fluttering together each time he blinks.

Starting with his cheek, you press a damp towel to his skin, and he hisses. It takes everything in you not to flinch in sympathy.

“How’s Charles?” he asks, probably trying to distract himself as you continue to clean his wounds, the towel darkening with his blood over time. 

“He’s doing great. Asked for you a lot, actually,” you take a look at his jaw, where one shallow cut is already starting to fade away thanks to his healing ability, something that never fails to amaze you.

Logan hums, tilting his head. ”I’ll check on him in the morning,” he murmurs, and you flash him a quick smile, finishing with his face. He’s now free of dirt and blood, his brows furrowing as he pauses to collect his thoughts. “The other day, when we talked—”

You cut him off, turning to the sink as you rinse the towel, watching the water get red. “Forget it.”

“No, it wasn’t okay—how I acted,” he stands up from the toilet, and you feel his presence behind you, the alarm inside your head going off as the space between you shrinks. “I know you just want what’s best for him. For us. I’m sorry I was a jerk,” his voice comes out even huskier at this time of the night, sounding afraid of waking someone, even though it’s just the two of you here.

“Apology accepted,” you swirl around to meet his gaze, only to find yourself nose-to-nose with him, and you lean back against the sink, your spine pressed into the cool surface.

Logan places his hands on both sides of the vanity, caging you with his body. Like the most beautiful tree, he stands tall in front of you, and you take a deep breath, getting drunk on his distinctive scent. “Are you… okay?”

You watch as he lowers his head, pursing his lips before muttering: “Imma need you to do something more for me,” he says, almost pleading, and you can’t avoid the amount of thoughts that rush into your mind.

Gone was your decency when you had to deal with him.

That’s when he looks up to find your eyes, his harsh expression evolving into a more vulnerable one. “Have you ever removed a bullet?”

If you thought listening to Logan’s nightmares was painful, nothing could have prepared you for the sounds he makes while you pull several bullets from his wounds. 

He sits shirtless in front of you, grunting at each of your careful movements. As you remove one bullet lodged near his ribs, Logan practically yells, and you rest your cheek against his, desperate to ease his suffering.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Almost done,” you whisper into his ear, hoping your words might bring him some relief. He lets his head fall forward, resting it on your shoulder, trusting you enough to tend to his injuries, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

It takes you half an hour to clean both his chest and back, but Logan doesn’t complain. When you’re finished, he goes straight to his room, flopping onto his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You see the way his chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing still labored.

You wish you could lie beside him, even just for a few minutes, but your last shred of self-control stops you from doing such a thing.

“Get some sleep,” you say leaning against the doorframe, your advice sounding more like a plea. He looks exhausted, dark circles sunken beneath his eyes. 

Logan lets out a bitter laugh. “Do I look that bad?”

You roll your eyes at that, your fingers curling around the doorknob. Glancing back at him over your shoulder, you catch something in his look—a glimmer of something you struggle to put into words, but you decide not to look further into it. “Good night, Logan.”

“Good night, darlin’—and thank you,” he murmurs, holding your gaze until the door shuts between you.

Then you sprint to your room, gently closing the door before biting back a smile, replaying the last hour in your mind. How close to you he had been, how comfortable he seemed around you.

You hadn’t just crossed lines—you’d broken them. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

Somehow, your racing mind calms down, and you fall asleep, one hand tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting against your chest.

You’re a light sleeper. The sound of something shattering wakes you, leaving you startled and disoriented.

Dawn is just breaking, the first rays of sunlight slipping through your window. You sit up, pricking up your ears as you scratch the back of your head, listening attentively.

Logan’s voice filters into your room—he lets out a string of profanities, and you stifle a giggle, throwing off your covers and putting on a sweatshirt that matches your pajamas.

Barefoot, you walk down the hall, stopping at the kitchen’s entrance. Logan is kneeling beside the table, gathering the shards of a broken mug. It seems like he’s just gotten out of the shower, tiny droplets of water trailing down his neck.

“That was my favorite one,” you say in a low voice, teasing him. His back muscles flex under the material of his shirt, and he turns to look at you, his expression a silent apology. “I take it you’re not using your glasses?”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Rising to his feet, he grunts, digging his fingers into his lower back with a grimace. “They’re called readers for a reason.”

You decide to let him have that one, grabbing a new mug from the shelf and handing it to him. He accepts it, thanking you, and fills it with freshly brewed coffee.

“Was it a nightmare?” you ask, watching as he sinks into the couch, spreading his thighs apart with a sigh while you take a seat at the table instead.

Logan gives a nod, sipping some of his coffee. “At least I slept for a few hours.” 

“Are you really going to stay up? It’s pretty early.” You stretch your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you before you can hold it back.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You hesitate for a moment, but then comes your question: “Can I join you?” You prop your elbows on your knees, any trace of sleepiness now gone with the wind.

He squints his eyes, his unrelenting stare boring into you. “Feel free.”

So here you are, studying him as he drinks his coffee, his fingers wrapped tightly around the ceramic. There are so many things you want to ask him—about how he’s feeling, if his wounds have healed—but it seems you’ve entered a silent staring contest without even knowing it.

Not that you mind him looking at you—you just want to know the reason why.

You snort, and he arches a brow. “Do I have something on my face?” You decide to ask him, straightening your back.

“I guess I can’t help but wonder why you agreed to all of this,” he says, setting the mug down with a soft clink. By this, you understand he’s referring to being Charles’ caregiver and leaving your old job behind. “I mean—you could be doing better things with your life. Why would you choose to do this?”

“I told you before: I wanted to help you,” you shrug, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach tightens with nerves. You watch as Logan folds his arms, the muscles of his biceps becoming more visible. “Plus, I love being around Charles.

“I don’t think people your age would be that interested in spending their days like this,” he says, and you toy with a lock of your hair, wrapping it around your finger.

“Well, good thing I’m not like most people my age then.”

His silence hangs heavy in the air until he speaks again. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know that feeling when life seems like a race? And you just have to keep up with certain things that everybody else is doing, or you’ll be left behind?” You pause, the words falling more naturally than you’d expected.

Logan nods, making it seem like he understands what you’re trying to say. Whether he truly does it or not, you don’t know.

“When my friends started going to parties, getting boyfriends… I couldn’t. My family wouldn’t let me. And even when I could, it felt like it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

Inhaling sharply, you stop yourself. The conversation suddenly feels far too personal.

“You never had a boyfriend?” He gets more comfortable on the couch, his voice gruff as he rubs his chin, waiting for a reply.

A familiar heat settles between your legs. “I went out with some guys, but it never led to anything serious,” you say, your cheeks getting warmer the more details you share with him. “I guess I wasn’t the kind of girl they were looking for,” you add, not missing the way his lips twitch momentarily.

“How could they not want you?”

“They didn’t think like you do.”

“That’s because they were boys, not men,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to your hands before returning to your face. “Did they treat you right, those boys?”

Swallowing hard, you can hardly register the uncertainty in your own voice. “I mean… yes, I think they did. They were nice to me.”

There it is—the faintest hint of a smirk dancing on his lips. “Nice doesn’t mean good, though.”

You dig your nails onto the table, your pulse quickening, trying to hide how affected you are by his words. “What is it that you want to know?”

“Come sit with me, doll.”

Doll. Doll. Doll. Inside your chest, your heart gallops, your legs trembling as you get off the table, moving closer to him.

Feeling lighter with every step you take, you plop down beside him, and Logan sits straighter, his knees almost bumping into yours.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him—this is happening, just like in your filthiest dreams.

His hand slides up to yours, not applying any sort of pressure. He scrutinizes your skin, bringing your hand to his lips, and he presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

It tickles, it burns—it ignites a fire inside you, one you know you can’t ignore. A gasp attempts to escape you, but you suppress it.

“Did you let them touch you?” he whispers, attaching his mouth to your neck, brushing the sensitive spot where your jaw and ear meet.

This time, you moan, any possible rational thoughts turning into putty, melting with the way he’s touching you. “Logan,” you purr his name, begging for something, anything he’s willing to give you. Your thighs, once shoved together, spread of their own accord, and you hear him click his tongue.

“I asked you something.” His teeth graze your pulse point, forcing you to close your eyes.

“I didn’t. They wanted to, but I—I wouldn’t let them,” you answer, and as if he’s rewarding you, his fingers begin to tug on the hem of your sweatshirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the floor, admiring you.

“Why?”

Goddamn.

“Because I was waiting for the right guy,” you manage to get out, grasping his hand and positioning it on top of your right breast, encouraging him to go on with what he had started. His pupils widen further, and he squeezes your tit roughly, eliciting a moan from you. “I think I’ve found him.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any sign of repentance in your expression. “I’m going to hell for this,” he murmurs under his breath, his hard-on noticeable through his tented sweatpants. “Lay down.” You obey his command, easing yourself onto the couch, and sinking into the cushions as he presses himself to your side.

He peppers your neck with kisses, playing with the waistband of your shorts. “I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.”

You accept his offer, knowing that you’ll probably regret it in a couple of hours. Right now, it doesn’t matter. You need his electrifying touch, his fingers, his—

With a swift motion, your shorts are yanked down your legs, and his calloused hands part your thighs even wider. A damp spot on your underwear sells you out, and his thumb rubs gentle circles over that area, causing you to lift your hips.

“So this is what you look like when you touch yourself, huh?” He edges his fingers closer to your clit, his breath tickling your ear, and he dips his tongue into your collarbone. “I hear you all the fuckin’ time. You’re not as quiet as you think.”

It should embarrass you, the fact that he has listened to you pleasuring yourself. But in a moment like this, it only succeeds in fuelling your desire. “Please. You said you’d make me feel good.”

“And I will, but you’re greedy as hell,” he says, his movements more deliberate now. You feel hot all over as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt.

Logan’s on the verge of drooling all over you, reaching for your folds and spreading your wetness. “Men aren’t strong creatures, honey. You’ve got no idea how hard it is to hold back.”

“D-don’t hold back,” you stutter, losing your composure when he returns to your clit, his fingers coated in your arousal while they flick your swollen bud. “Oh, Logan…”

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he rasps, mouthing at your jaw, though as you try to kiss him, he slows his pace. “What’s wrong? Am I not giving you enough?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper, fascinated by how big his fingers look in comparison to your pussy. “I’m just—”

“Needy, I know,” he finishes for you, and he picks up his merciless rhythm again. Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and you can’t help but arch your back every time he teases you, grazing your entrance with his middle finger. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You dig your nails into his arm, relishing the way his body responds to your touch. He grinds his cock against your hip, his teeth nipping at the column of your neck. “I want to come. Please, make me come,” you sob, letting out a shaky breath.

A thin sheen of sweat covers your forehead, and Logan locks eyes with you after what feels like an eternity. “Please, Lo.”

The nickname snaps something inside of him. His fingers circle your clit with a fervency you hadn’t experienced before, your pleasure seemingly being his primary focus. “The shit I’d do for you.”

You warn him, telling him you’re close—so so so close—until the fire in your belly flares, and blood rushes to your ears. You collapse against him, holding his hand firmly against your core, hips jerking as you ride your orgasm.

The world narrows down to this—this moment, your most desired fantasy.

Logan holds you as you go limp in his arms, rubbing your clit ever so slightly, murmuring soft praises. “Y’did so good, sweetheart,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your temple, burying his nose in your hair. You’re still out of breath, the pulsing between your parted legs persisting long after your release. “Told you you weren’t quiet.”

A giggle bubbles up from your chest, his beard tickling you as he slides his hands up under your shirt, finding your nipples.

“It was n-nice,” you tell him, your voice faltering the more he toys with your hardened peaks. Your skin heats up again, heart racing at the thought that he isn’t done with you yet.

“Just nice?” One of his hands makes its way back into your pussy, ghosting his fingers over your hole, and he smirks when he feels you squirm. “You surely know how to hurt a man’s pride.”

“I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—” You can’t structure a proper sentence, not when he’s playing with you like this.

Logan rubs your arousal between his fingers, as though he wants you to see how slick you still are, even after coming. “Are you going to touch me again?”

He hums, feigning uncertainty. “What do you think, baby? Should I make you come with my fingers now?”

It’s like a switch flips in your mind. He knows exactly how to make you beg and which buttons to push, using that power to his advantage. “Yes, please. I want it,” you plead, intending to buck your hips into his touch, impatient for more.

“Do you fuck yourself with your fingers?” 

“Sometimes, but I can never finish—Oh my God.” He slips one finger inside you, causing you to curse, your voice barely above a whisper. You clench around the intrusion, your head falling back onto the cushions. “Fuck me.”

“In a minute.” He begins to thrust his finger in and out, gathering your juices every time he goes back to hammering that sweet spot in your interior. Soon, one finger becomes two, and he reduces you to a panting mess.

Tears threaten to swell in your eyes, and you whine as he involves his other hand in the matter, furiously rubbing your clit. “Your fingers feel much better than m-mine, Lo.”

“I can tell.” He curls them just right, and you push back against his thrusts, tilting your pelvis to meet him halfway. “There you go. Take what you need, sweetheart. I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Everything feels frenzied, fast, the way your inner walls spam and contract around his fingers as you chase your second climax.

Once you come down from your high, your blurred vision catches him tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down. His cock springs free, and he fists himself, stroking his length angrily.

You watch as some pre-cum dribbles from the head, and you lean forward, watching it closely.

“You look goddamn beautiful when you come, darlin’,” he murmurs through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched tight. Hovering over you, he rucks your shirt up until he can see your tits from above. He alternates between your breasts, squeezing them while he continues to stroke his girth. “Want to see these all dirty.”

Logan truly loses it when your hand reaches out to him, tracing a bulging vein near the head of his cock. You meet his lustful gaze, batting your lashes, and then you feel his come splashing against your bare chest, a choked moan escaping Logan’s throat, spurts of his hot seed landing on your skin.

“Fuckin’ hell… fuck,” he grunts, still tugging at his cock, enamored with the masterpiece he’s created. When it’s finally over, he lies beside you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles further into your touch with a groan. “I’m too old for this.”

Minutes pass as both of you seem to grasp the gravity of what has just happened. Eventually, Logan rises to his feet, disappearing for a brief moment before coming back with a towel to wipe his come off your stomach and chest.

He’s gentle with you, his gaze trained on his task until his eyes flick up to meet yours. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, pulling your shorts back up.

“Like what?” 

“Like you want to see right through me.” He adjusts your shirt to cover your body again, but the towel remains in his hand, a reminder of the previous events.

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

You don’t have to talk about it. You definitely don’t. 

Two days later, he’s the one who comes looking for you.

You’re nearly asleep when he knocks on your door. “Come in,” you mumble, a bit of drool having dampened your pillow. You dry your mouth with the back of your hand, your back turned to the door.

He steps into your room cautiously, as if navigating a minefield. The mattress dips under his weight. “Were you sleeping?” he asks, caressing your leg over the covers. 

You shift onto your back, your body responding before your mind. There’s no blood on his clothes—that makes you feel a bit better, and you shake your head.

“Good.” He looms closer, fumbling with his belt. His thumb applies little pressure to your lower lip, and your mouth parts to let him in, salivating.

This is just like Pavlov’s dog experiment—except that Logan isn’t an experimenter, and you aren’t a dog.

Yet, when he approaches you like this, you can’t help but respond, settling into a routine where you both take take take from each other.

Logan doesn’t fuck you, even when you beg him to. He gets you off with his fingers, his thigh, his mouth—but his cock remains out of the equation. 

“Just the tip,” you plead, voice laced with pure need, when he’s got his face nestled between your legs. 

As he stops eating you out, his beard shiny with your arousal, he’s still got that angry look on his face. Your cries don’t get to him.

“That lie’s older than me.” He slips his fingers back inside you, aiming to make you drop the subject. “Come on, baby. Gotta get ready for work, but you need to come first.”

Nor does he stay the night after telling you you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen in his life. Just when you think he’s fallen asleep, his legs intertwined with yours and one of his large hands under your head, you drift off.

By the time morning comes, he’s gone. You just know that when night falls, he’ll be back for more, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

Despite all that, Logan won’t kiss you. He keeps his promise, and you hate how determined he is. 

“Not even once?” you ask him one night while going over the scars on his back. You’re in his bed this time, and he has his nose buried in his pillow, moments away from dozing off. 

“No,” he answers, squirming slightly under your touch. “I’m tired. Stop doing that.”

“How did you get this one?” You trace one scar that’s close to his shoulder, resting your chin just inches from it.

He turns his face to see your eyes. “Well, I was doing Pilates, and I—Hey!” He laughs when you pinch the skin near his ribs, tickling him. “I don’t even remember. Must’ve got it a long time ago.”

“Did it hurt?” It’s a dumb question, but he doesn’t mention it.

His index finger grazes your cheek, and he chuckles at the way your eyelids flutter. “In the past, they all did. But not anymore,” he replies, though you wish you could believe him.

You know he’s in pain most days. That when he goes down on you, and he’s on his knees for too long, he has trouble standing up without cursing. That no amount of alcohol, or his healing ability, helps him with it.

You kiss each of his scars before curling against his side, brushing your nose against his. “And now?” Your eyes fall to his lips, silently hoping he’ll say Yes.

Instead, he sighs. “I think we should go to sleep.”

So despite the lack of kisses, the miscommunication, and the fact that he won’t fuck you even though you know—you feel—he wants to, things are good between you.

Charles notices it, openly expressing his recent realization. “He looks happier, doesn’t he?” he asks says after winning two games of chess in a row, startling you. 

“Logan, you mean?”

“Yes, my dear.”

You glance down at the board, fidgeting with the pieces. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he parrots your previous words, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “Look at me,” he says, and as you do it, he points a shaky finger toward your neck. “I assume mosquitos have taken a liking to you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, your hand flying up to cover the hickey you had completely forgotten about in the first place. “Charles, I’m—“

“Are you happy?” he interrupts you, and you nod, because you are. 

A nagging thought lingers at the back of your mind. You don’t know if you’re asking for too much, but it still feels like something’s missing.

One morning, you accidentally overhear a conversation between them. The door of the tank is ajar, and right before you step inside, you recognize Logan’s voice in the distance.

“Charles, I’m fine, alright? I don’t need your advice.”

There’s a pause before Charles responds. “You know, Logan… this is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.”

Logan doesn’t say anything in response to that. And if he does, you don’t stick around long enough find out, because you’re already turning on your heel.

A poet once said: “Blowjobs are fucking amazing.”

Actually, you might be wrong. Those may not have been a poet’s words, but your best friend Keira’s from high school.

You remember the sleepovers at her place—she had a boyfriend at the time, a boy she had met at a party you hadn’t been invited to. 

“Welcome to blowjobs 101,” she had declared one night, holding a hairbrush like a microphone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll tell you everything you need to know when the moment comes.”

Luckily, many years later, that moment arrived.

Just ten minutes ago, you were cooking dinner, sniffling back tears while chopping onions, so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Logan was already home.

He tossed his keys onto the table, hugging you from behind seconds later. You leaned back against his chest, enjoying the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin, his lips planting soft kisses wherever they could.

“How was work?” you dropped the knife, wiping your tears as you turned to face him, throwing your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you in tighter by the waist, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Hell, as usual,” he looked into your eyes, finding them all glossy. “You miss me so much you started crying?”

Of course, you didn’t talk about it—but words aren’t the only ones who can convey meaning.

You’re not sure how, but one thing led to another, and now you’re on your knees, Logan’s cock filling your mouth. Your lips, swollen and red, suck hard at his tip, pulling the foreskin back, and his hips jerk deeper into your throat. “That’s it, fuck. Doin’ so good.”

Your movements are far from graceful. As a matter of fact, it’s all too sloppy and desperate. Saliva drips down your chin, some of it coating his balls, and you fondle them at the same time you bob your head.

Keira’s advice plays on repeat in your mind, and you pull out every trick you know to make Logan roll his eyes.

So far, you think you’re doing pretty great, judging by the way he’s gripping the back of your head.

“H-how is this your first time suckin’ cock?” he slurs, more to himself, his voice strangled as you make eye contact with him. He brushes your hair out of your face, bewitched by the sight of him disappearing into your wet mouth. “God, I fuckin’ love you.”

Taken aback by his sudden confession. you involuntarily gag around him. He pulls you off his cock, not even sparing you a glance, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Wait, Logan—”

“Not now,” he mutters abruptly, withdrawing into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

But still, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

How bad is it to tell somebody you love them and then avoid them?

Yeah, it’s absolutely terrible, right? Tell that to the idiot himself—Logan Howlett.

It’s been over a week, and no matter how many times you press him for an explanation, he keeps dodging it.

Things go back to how they were before you two started fooling around, and Charles’ questions don’t take long to come: “I thought you two were getting somewhere.”

“Me too,” you admit, your voice quieter as you try to appear indifferent.

You have no answer for him. Not that you don’t want to discuss your relationship problems—it’s just that you don’t know what went wrong.

When evading you isn’t enough, he works longer hours, which only adds to how little you see him. At least he lets you know if he’s going to be late, sparing you from waiting up.

But apart from that, your interactions have dwindled to nothing, and it’s eating you alive.

You’re madly in love with him. You thought you knew that already, but now that he’s distant, the depth of your feelings has become clearer than ever.

He’s everywhere you go, just not physically—he has conquered your mind.

And it should be funny, loving someone who used to be no more than a myth for you. Though Logan is real—maybe too real for your own good—and he hasn’t been the mutant you once read about for quite some time.

This morning, he’s having breakfast at the table when you walk into the kitchen. You hold your breath as your shoulders brush for a microsecond, his gaze following your steps.

You’re no longer accustomed to sharing the same space with him, so it makes sense that you stay as far away as possible.

After an awkward silence, he stands up and mutters something about checking on Charles and giving him his meds, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s infuriating, how collected he seems. Why isn’t he miserable like you? Doesn’t he miss you? Didn’t you two have something… special?

I’m not gonna kiss you, but I’ll make you feel good. Just this time, ‘kay? And we don’t talk about it.

The shit I’d for you.

God, I fuckin’ love you.

Not now.

The memory of his words lingers, seared into your unconscious, though the sound of his phone jolts you out of your thoughts.

It’s ringing beside the coffee machine, and you try to ignore it, determined to be the bigger person.

But after five minutes of the relentless ringtone echoing in the empty kitchen, you’ve had enough.

Unknown caller—interesting. What could he possibly be hiding?

Charles, you better keep that asshole busy, you think to yourself, swiping right to answer the call.

Before you can say anything, a woman’s voice fills the line.

“James! Thank God. It’s Gillian. You didn’t reply to any of my texts, and I was starting to get worried,” she lets out a giggle, the sound grating against your nerves.

As your grip on the phone tightens, your knuckles start to go white.

“Look, I know you said you weren’t available, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that ride. I didn’t see any ring on your finger, so what do you say, huh? Will you let me take you out?”

Red. You’re seeing red.

“James? Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

At last, you clear your throat. “Hey,” you greet her, pacing around the kitchen. “I’m deeply sorry, but James can’t talk right now.”

“Excuse me?” she snaps, her high-pitched voice echoing through the speakers, and you pull the device away from your ear. “This is James’ number. Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you who the fuck I am, you intolerant piece of—”

Before you can finish, the phone is yanked out of your hand, the call hastily ending.

There is no use in playing dumb, not when Logan’s standing right in front of you, observing you like you’re a child who’s made a severe mistake.

His deep, brown eyes pierce your soul, shattering any chance you had of coming up with an excuse.

“What where you doing with my phone?” It’s the first thing he asks you, his voice still steady, the calm before the storm.

Perhaps you’re not as mature as you thought you were—your forehead furrows, unwilling to back down, and you fall silent. He takes a step forward, as if he can’t believe your attitude. “Think I asked you somethin’. Why did you answer?”

“Gillian sounds like a lovely lady. Tell her I said ‘Hi’ the next time you see her,” you croak, attempting to walk past him, but he doesn’t budge, his solid frame blocking your path. You collide with his chest, and it feels like trying to move a brick wall without success.

“We’re talking. You can’t just leave.”

The nerve of this man.

“You can’t be serious,” you retort, staring at him, wishing the emotion in your tone could capture even a fraction of what you’re truly feeling. “Weren’t you the one who walked away first? After telling me you loved me?”

You search for any sign of the man who once held you close, but he feels miles away, hidden under all these layers that smell like cheap whiskey and gasoline. “You didn’t mean it.”

“I did. I meant every word,” he growls, his fists clenching at his sides, and you don’t miss the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles that expose the fragile façade of control he’s so desperate to maintain. “Goddamit! You’re doing that thing again!”

“What thing?” you exclaim, your mouth hanging open in frustration. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are! You’re trying to see through me, like you can read my mind.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a fucking mutant. I just have eyes, Logan.” You throw your arms up, exasperated. “People actually look at each other when they have a conversation, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re testing my patience,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

“And you are testing mine.” You rest your back against the table, raising your chin. “So, who is she?”

Logan drops his shoulders, slamming his eyes shut. “I drove her once, last week. It was a long ride and she… wouldn’t stop talking. Didn’t shut up for a single second. She hit on me, but I told her I’m off the market.”

“Why? ‘Cause she talked too much?”

“No. Because I love you,” he says, pure awe transforming his expression, like he doesn’t believe he has said it out loud. “I don’t know when I started feeling like this, or if I’ve always felt it, but—I do. I love you.”

Oh.

You had heard those words slip through his lips before, but now they sound different. It might be that keeping him at arm's length has felt like death by a thousand cuts, or perhaps it’s the realization that this is the first time someone’s declaring their love for you.

Fuck. He loves you. As in, he’s in love with you?

“Then why do you keep running?” You edge closer to him, your eyes trained on his. “I’m done with the chase, Logan. It’s tiring—I am tired. I’ve been sleeping like shit, trying to figure out what—”

His arms surround your body, cutting you off and pulling you close. The hammering of his heart matches yours, and you return the hug, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

You fear that this might be all you’ve ever needed, feeling as if the pieces he took from you in the past are finally falling back into place.

Logan holds you as if in a past life he lost you, but now, he’s decided to never let you go.

This profound sense of completeness, of being where you’re meant to be, makes you realize you’ve found home in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry. This… this scares me, alright?” he murmurs next to your ear, raking his fingers through your hair. “You make me feel things I didn’t think I could feel anymore. That’s what I’m running from—the part of me I thought was gone. But you… you brought it back.”

You feel a deep urge to curl up and cry, wondering why on earth he would ever think he was unworthy of being cared for. “Logan, I…”

“I sound pathetic, I know. It sounded way better in my head.”

“Don’t you dare say that.” You retreat a bit, looking him in the eye. He stares down at you with a tenderness you’ve never seen before. “It’s not pathetic to voice how you feel. I want to know it all, want to know everything about you.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, everything. But I need you to promise me that you won’t run away anymore. I know it’s difficult, but it’s not fair to any of us.”

His eyes peer directly into yours, and he gives a nod. “I promise to do my best.” He presses your foreheads together, and that’s when his mouth turns into a grin. “You’re not going to say it back?” he teases, gripping your waist. “Come on, I said it first. Twice, for the record.”

Lifting your shoulders in a half-shrug, you find it hard to conceal your smile. “I may need a bit more convincing.”

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me.

Before you know it, his lips are on yours, almost making you lose your balance. You whimper into his mouth, tightening your arms around his neck as his tongue wastes no time in finding yours, stroking it sensually.

The wait had been definitely worth it—you’d do everything all over again if it meant having him kiss you like this at the end of the day.

He tilts your face so that he can deepen the kiss, and a whine gets caught in your throat when his fingers pull gently at the hair at your nape, nibbling at your bottom lip. 

“I love you, too. Very much, to be honest,” you blurt out against his mouth, pleased with the way he laughs at your reaction, squeezing your hips. “But I still have some ideas in mind.”

“I’m all ears.”

Here goes nothing. “Fuck me like I’ve been asking you to.” You cup his cheek, guiding his lips into yours one more time. “Please,” you mewl, standing on your tiptoes. “Want you to be my first.”

If it were up to you, you would’ve begged him to take you right there on the kitchen floor. But Logan, ever the gentleman, insists on moving things to his room.

Each of his movements is slow, igniting your skin with a burning heat, leaving his name imprinted where his teeth sink into your soft flesh.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear by the time he murmurs: “Let me take my time with you.” He trails his lips down your chest, your stomach, until he’s planting several kisses along your ankle. “I don’t know how I got so lucky, baby. Look at you.”

Under his gaze, you feel shy, your eyes snapping to the ceiling instead. “Shut up,” you say, tugging at his shirt to undress him, your fingers tracing the lines of his abdomen before you pull him into a bruising kiss, sucking on his tongue.

He strips out of his black slacks and hovers over you, his clothed cock grinding against your throbbing core, eliciting a moan from both of you. “So goddamn beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine.” His tip grazes your entrance through the fabric, making your toes curl in ectasy. “I’m gonna make you feel good, I swear.”

At first, he’s extremely careful, making sure to stretch you out with his fingers while you stroke him, pumping your fist to match his rhythm. “Keep that up and this’ll be over sooner than expected,” he warns, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

It doesn’t happen like it does in the books or movies. No foreplay could’ve prepared you for the moment he enters you.

You move clumsily beneath him, your nose bumping into his forehead as he eases the first inch of his length inside.

For a moment, you’re not certain which hurts most: the dull ache in your nose or the way he’s splitting you open. 

Logan freezes, his eyes wide in concern. “Shit. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?” His hand cradles your face as he props himself up on one forearm, pushing your hair back while you adjust to his size. You laugh despite the sting, and he wipes away your tears with his thumb. “You’re laughin’?”

“I’m just happy,” you manage to get through the lump in your throat, raking your nails down his back, feeling the rough texture of the scars beneath your fingers. “I love you. Since that day at the bar, I—” you pause for a second, gasping at the sudden wave of pleasure when he twitches inside you. “I’ll always l-love you. Forever.”

As you wrap your legs around his waist and tell him you’re ready, something inside him shifts.

He feels like a madman, his eyes fixed on your face the whole time, searching for any hint of discomfort, though he occasionally glances down at the place where your bodies meet and become one, entranced by the sight of you taking him in, slick coating his length. 

Your heels dig into his lower back, pulling him back to the present—back to you, with your pretty tits bouncing each time he pistols his hips, the intensity of his thrusts increasing.

“All those times you took care of me, when you—Fuck,” he groans, nipping at your jaw to regain some of his composure, his humid breath dampening your skin. Your scent drives him wild, and he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You made me feel loved when no one else did. My girl, love you so f-fucking much.”

His pace is nothing more than a voiceless testament to everything he feels but can’t find words to express.

With each minute that passes, your dripping cunt grips him tighter and tighter, his thrusts losing finesse. He needs you to come first—why does he feel like a virgin?

When you tell him you’re close, the world around him turns into a musical. You cling to the sheets, the mattress creaking noisily as he clutches the headboard, determined to find that angle that will push you over the edge.

“That’s it, sing for me,” Logan mutters from above, hypnotized by the crease forming between your brows. “Come on, let go.”

Time seems to slow down as your muscles tense and you clamp around him, your body sagging against him. His name spills from your lips in breathy whimpers, like an endless prayer, and your mouth engulfs his, tongues and teeth clashing in a fevered kiss.

Soon after that, he surrenders to the coiling tension deep within him, pulling out just in time to stroke himself once, twice, before emptying his hot load across your mound.

You gently thumb the head of his cock, coaxing out every last drop of his hot seed. He’s panting as he comes down from his high, his brain foggy and blissfully blank for a while. 

Logan loses track of how many times he tells you he loves you—he does it when he pulls you into his chest, when his lips press against your temple, and when you crack that smile, the one that resembles the very purpose of his existence.

“So this is what it feels like.” His voice sounds low like a murmur near your ear, and you stir, half-asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, baby. Just thinkin’ aloud.”

You don’t have to talk about it, at least not now. Deep down, he knows that whatever thoughts run through his mind will somehow find their way into yours.

This is what life looks like. You should take a moment and feel it. You still have time.

And God, is he feeling it.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[smolbeandrabbles]

Me, reading this fic:

I ran out of tags! 🥲 It’s been so fun to read your work! 🥰 Especially of the certified Best Boy™️

I can’t wait to read more 💚

Dance with me? (Roronoa Zoro x f!reader)

Summary: you try to convince Zoro to dance to a slow song with you.

A/n: okay so i love dancing. And i love Zoro. So i thought: why not have Zoro dancing?! And then this idea came out 🤣 it's kinda short, just cause i wanted to write down this scenario ajskajakja i hope you like it though 🩷 this was slightly inspired by Selena Gomez's Body Heat. This song isn't as slow as the song i imagine them dancing to in the fic but the lyrics fit sooo well 🤭 also let's pretend there's a band playing at the Baratie lmaooo

Warnings: drinking, swearing, maybe ooc Zoro (i just had to get this man dancing yk ajskajksja)

"We're connected by the sun

And all of the stars above

You melt me and my body feels no shame

And I don't care tonight

If it burns too bright

'Cause, baby, that's why I came"

You were at the Baratie celebrating after very a successful mission!

Luffy and Usopp were inside eating as much as they could (like always lol) and you were outside watching the band play and the people dance.

Sitting with you and sharing drinks, there were your best friend Nami and your crush Roronoa Zoro.

Yep, you were crushing on the moss haired swordsman ever since you joined the straw hats.

You thought about confessing to him several times, but you were really afraid of being rejected and making things awkward at the Going Merry. No, you couldn't risk that, not when you loved your crew that much.

What you didn't know is that the pretty swordsman felt exactly the same, even though he tried to fight that feeling everytime you flashed your beautiful smile at him.

yeah two idiots secretly in love with each other oh well ajskajskaj

The three of you were just relaxing and drinking when the band started playing one of your favorite songs. It was a slow and romantic song that touched deep into your heart.

- oh my gosh, i love this song - you closed your eyes and started swaying to the beat. It felt wonderful.

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol making you brave or if you just couldn't stand hiding your feelings anymore, but you turned to face Zoro and you were so certain of what you were saying even he was a bit surprised.

- come on, dance with me - you said, very sure of your words.

- what? No. I don't do "dancing", (Y/N). - Zoro replied, crossing his arms and looking away, knowing very well that if he kept looking at your beautiful eyes he was going to give in at some point.

- please, it's just one song... i can lead you - you said almost pleading.

You approached him and put your small hand on his strong arm (yep, the alcohol definitely was making you brave). That's when he couldn't resist anymore and turned to look at you.

- please, Zoro... for me?

The way you said that and tilted your head slightly to the side made Zoro feel something deep inside of him he never had felt before. How could he say no to you?

He rolled his eyes:

- okay, okay... but just one song. Make it quick.

You were so happy you nearly jumped out of your seat.

- yay!! It'll be short, i promise. Let's go! - you said clapping and happily standing up.

He got up too and you grabbed his hand to lead him to the dance area. Yes, you just grabbed the Roronoa Zoro's hand and pulled him with you. Maybe it weren't the drinks, maybe you were just really determined to be with him ajskajskaj

When you got there, you started giving him the directions.

- okay, you have to put your hands here - you grabbed both his hands and placed them on your waist. The touch was so soft and intimate it made your whole skin tingle - and i go here - you placed your arms around his neck.

You could feel he was still a bit suspicious about the whole thing for how tense his muscles felt, but you decided you were going to make that a good time for both of you.

- hey, you're tense - you said softly - just... relax, okay? I know it may seem scary but dancing is supposed to be fun. You don't have to be a pro to enjoy it, just... feel it. It's just you and I having a good time together. No pressure at all.

Little did you know Zoro wasn't feeling nervous because of the dancing. Well, maybe a bit (he had never done that before ajskajskaj), but it wasn't the main reason.

He was nervous for being that close to you. God knows what he could do being so close to the girl he had been crushing on for so long.

You ran your hands through his shoulders and arms, trying to calm him down and feeling his strong muscles slowly relaxing under your touch.

- now you just focus on the beat and move along. When i move right, you move right. When i go back, you go forward. Just... feel it and enjoy - you said kindly and you started moving with the song.

You both moved smoothly through the dance floor and it felt amazing.

- see, it's not that hard. I'm sure you've faced bigger challenges than this one, pirate hunter - you emphasized these two words in a mocking way.

That made him chuckle and look down, feeling a bit shy.

Yes! You made him laugh 🤩 you loved knowing you were the one to create such cute sight.

On the other hand: fuck, you made him laugh 💀 everytime he smiled it made you weak on your knees and you couldn't even think straight.

That's when you closed your eyes and rested your head on his chest, while you both just moved along to the beat. It was such a blissful moment, dancing to a song you loved and sharing it with a person you loved too.

Being there with him, enjoying the beat, feeling safe in Zoro's arms... you felt like you could live in that moment forever.

When you lifted your head and looked into his eyes again, it was like the rest of the world disappeared. There was just the two of you, holding each other and sharing loving looks.

You were so close and you could feel his eyes staring at your lips. You took that as a sign.

You cupped his cheek and slowly went in for a kiss.

Was that really happening?! You wanted to pinch yourself to check if all of that wasn't actually another delulu dream of yours.

But it was real. You could feel it.

The kiss was soft and sweet, but also full of emotion.

When you parted you were blushing madly so you just hid your face on his chest again and went back to dancing. This time you could feel he laid his head on top of yours too and that made your heart so warm. And that's because you didn't know he was enjoying it so much he had his eyes closed too, or else you would have exploded.

You knew at some point later you and Zoro would have to discuss feelings and stuff, but at that moment all that mattered was enjoying now.

You stayed like that for another few seconds until the song ended and everyone started clapping at the band. You and Zoro parted and smiled at each other. crap there was that pretty smile again

- see, you nailed it! - you said playfully punching him - thank you for coming with me, it was so nice. And i kept my promise, short and quick - you chuckled.

- yeah... now i kinda wish it lasted longer though - he said trying to look away to hide the small blush that was on his cheeks. Now besides smiling!Zoro, you also had him blushing?! It was definitely a dream.

You hooked your arm in his and led him out the dance area.

When you were going back to your seats, you saw Nami staring at you with a smug face. Damn, was she watching the whole thing?! Prepare for teasing in 3, 2...

- what a show, huh? - Nami said smirking and raising her eyebrows.

- shut up, Nami - Zoro said nonchalantly as he sat down and crossed his arms again, with that "100% done" face of his to try to hide the faint blush that was still on his cheeks.

You just chuckled and sat down for another drink, still feeling the bliss of that amazing moment you had just lived.

And you know what, the night was just beginning. Who knows what else could happen 😉

"Let's go all night

Just you and me

If you're the flame, I'm kerosene"

[lqveharrington]

Gentleman | R.L.

summary: remus lupin is the perfect gentleman.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, you and sirius are practically siblings, rem defending his girlfriend, someone gets pushed off a boat

a/n: all my inspo literally comes from the music i listen to 😭

James had invited the entire group down to the lake for the summer because it was the last summer before the last year of Hogwarts. He thought it should be memorable, and everyone loved the idea. His parents allowed him to borrow the lake house and boat, but only if everyone's parents were okay with it. Of course, your parents trusted you with your friends. The only rule was to stay in separate rooms from your boyfriend. Oopsies.

As the Potters’ boat slowed to a calm stop, the summer wind continued to blow through the air, the clouds nonexistent in the blue sky. The sun shimmered across the lake water and the radio played the top hits of the month, the sound drowning from the talking of the boat’s riders.

When Sirius had enough of all the chitchat, he quickly shed himself of his top and jumped into the lake water, splashing Marlene who was trying to tan on the boats end. She cursed him out and threatened to pull the ladder away when he splashed her again.

Witnessing the entire interaction, you hid a laugh behind a smile and left the girls to sit beside Remus who was sitting underneath the shade of the boat. You tucked your legs underneath your lap and leaned your chin on his shoulder. On instinct, his calloused hand found the space underneath your calf and gently squeezed even when talking to James. You admired his face glowing in the sun for a beat, eyes following the scars that were left behind from bad nights before he finally turned and met your loving eyes.

“Hey.” You murmur and grin when you felt him press a soft kiss to your lips. “Sirius just went into the water." He hummed and kissed you again, making you hum and separate once more. "You don't want to join him?”

“And leave you here all by yourself? What type of man do you think I am?” He thumbed your leg and felt for the rushing blood, ensuring there was a pule and that you were in fact real. It was a habit he was quick to have learned because of a full moon incident a year ago.

You shrug and rest your cheek on his shoulder instead, watching the gulls fly by and circle the food James was grilling. As he tried fighting them off with tongs, Lily and Dorcas began to draw sunscreen images on Marlene's back, not bothering to cover up their giggles.

“You don’t want to join the girls?” Remus tilted his head and scanned your side profile, following the contour of your face. He memorized every single bump and crease, gingerly tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear when you looked back over at him.

You raise a brow at his guilty smile and analyze his mannerism, rubbing the one bit of sunscreen into his cheek. "What?"

“You just wanna stay in the shade with me, don't you, dovey?" He brought his hand up and gently cupped your cheek, pulling you close enough so he could press a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, wherever you are, I follow.” You grin as a blush creeps up your neck, not realizing Sirius had gotten out of the water and rolled his eyes at how affectionate the both of you were being.

“You two are so gross." He covered his eyes before shaking his head like the dog he was — ridding himself of all the water he brought up with him.

You groaned when you got hit with the water, glaring at the long-haired boy. He stuck his tongue out at you which you retaliated with your middle finger. You swore that Sirius had a secret hatred for you since you began dating Remus over a year ago.

Sirius gasped at your gesture and put a hand on his chest, returning the finger. Remus rolled his eyes at the both of you and gave you a pointed look, making you cover it with your hand.

"Prongs, do something! The lady won't go down without a fight!" SIrius complained and popped a soda can out of the cooler, leaning against the railing of the boat.

“Mate, I don’t know what you want me to do.” James threw him a confused look and reached inside the cooler to hand Lily her own can. "Besides, I can't do much here."

“You could toss her over board." Sirius muttered loud enough for you to whip your head toward him and glare.

"You were being mean first!" You move to stand only to be pulled back down into your seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw Remus pursing his lips in thought, making you sigh. "Rem—"

“Sit.” He practically commanded, rolling his eyes once more when you crossed your arms and legs in annoyance. But when you noticed his quick wink, you realize what he was going to do.

You smiled slyly toward Sirius when he met your eyes again. The poor unsuspecting bloke. Sirius gave you an annoyed look and went to say something — probably insulting all women — when Remus pulled him aside.

Assuming Remus was going to hangout with him instead of you, Sirius stuck his tongue out before yelping in surprise as Remus pushed him off the boat. Your eyes widened with a smile, stretching your neck to see where Sirius was flailing. The three girls burst out into laughter at the predicament and quickly moved away from all the splashing water, grabbing a polaroid to take a picture before he could get out. James just shook his head in disbelief, clasping his arm around Sirius’ and helping him up.

Remus tossed a towel in Sirius' direction before sitting beside you again, kissing the side of your head like nothing happened. You gave him cheeky smile and laced your hand with his.

“What a gentleman.” You chide before letting out a noise of surprise at the feeling of his lips on yours, dropping your hand to lay flat on his chest.

“Some gentleman you are.” Sirius muttered as he dried himself off. When he realized Remus was staring back at him with an unimpressed look, he took a huge step back behind James and quickly apologized. “Kidding, I’m kidding.”

You send him another death glare before staring up at Remus with soft eyes as he thumbed your palm, a small smile taking over your face. "You know we're probably going to get pranked anytime soon, right?"

"As long as I spend quality time with you, I think I'll be fine. Besides, he won't try anything too bad." Remus tilted your head up with his index finger. "I'm a gentleman anyway."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[bblairxe]

Can I request a rough dom reader x sub jinx, where Jinx is riding our strap and we can see the bugle from her stomach. She tries to get off the strap but we wouldn’t let her. Like degrading and stuff. THANK YOUU

i saw ur previous request, i just didn’t know how to start it 😭

৻ꪆ content warnings : dom! reader , sub! jinx , rough sex , slight overstim , degradation , mean! reader , strap referred to as ‘cock’ and ‘dick’ , jinx receiving that shlong , hand pinning , begging

৻ꪆ word count : 500+

blair dropping two requests in one day ?! ( someone kill me )

jinx’s mouth always finds a way to get herself in trouble. whether that be with enforcers, vander, or just random people who pissed her off. but tonight, she was in a lot of trouble, with you in particular. 

the sound of skin slapping fills the room, your long, thick strap assaulting her cunt over and over again. “when i tell you to do something, jinx. you fuckin’ do it. no talking back, none of that bullshit.” you growl in her ear, your voice was low and dark, absolutely fed up with her defiance. 

her head lolls back into the pillow, eyes rolling to the back of her head. she was an absolute mess, your strap hitting that spot inside of her perfectly with each thrust. she wanted to do something, push your buttons to the point you might explode if another bratty remark left her lips. yet she couldn’t do anything but lay there and moan out cries of your name. 

“can’t speak now, hm? cock got you going dumb?” you coo with faux sympathy, raising your hand to leave a sharp smack on her tits. a raw moan escaping her throat, arching her back towards the ceiling. 

“m’sorry, i’m s-sorry, please,” jinx chokes out, her words barely audible from the cracks in her voice. she brings her hand up to your stomach, attempting to slow down your unforgiving pace. you let out a breathless laugh and grab both of her wrists in one hand, and firmly rest them above her head. 

“real cute baby, but sorry isn’t gonna cut it. not after that shit you pulled.” you use your freehand to push her legs up to her chest, drilling into her. your thrusts grow deeper, more deliberate, until you notice the faint bulge from your strap in her lower stomach. 

“look at that,” you release your grip from jinx’s wrist to push against the bulge. her breath catches in her throat, her eyes fluttering shut. “you’re so fucking small i can see my cock right there, feel that?”

her cheeks flush a deep crimson red, her body writhing underneath you. you could tell she regrets pushing your buttons, and that’s exactly what you wanted. your hand stays firm on her lower stomach, applying just enough pressure to make her whine and feel every inch of you. “what’s wrong, can’t handle it? you wanted to act all tough earlier, didn’t you?”

jinx lips quivers, her legs tremble around your around back. clawing weakly at the sheets to search for some kind of support. “p-please, i can’t—“ she gasps, tears welling in her dazed eyes.

“can’t what? take your punishment like the slut you are?” you sneer, driving your hips harder into her, drawing another broken cry from her lips. “you’re gonna cum all over this dick, aren’t you? go ahead, make a mess of yourself, jus’ gonna make you clean it up anyway.” 

with a few more thrusts, her release floods out of her, coating the strap and sheets in her cum. her cunt clenches around your strap, but you don’t let up — not yet. 

“mmh, what’s wrong? too much for you?” you coo mockingly, gripping her chin with your index and thumb. her whimpers turn into sobs, becoming completely overstimulated as you fuck her harshly through her orgasm. 

“don’t tell me you’re done already,” you purr, leaning down to press your lips to her ear. “we’re not stopping til i say so.”

[sunflowerwinds]

OKAY I really love your sevika fics and your pinned says requests open and I apologize if THIS IS WEIRD but I have an idea - thigh riding with sevika CAUSE LIKE SHE HAS 😭 REALLYNICE THIGHS LIKE REALLY NICE THEYRE SO MUSCLY oooooh

a little help | s.a

summary: you’ve been feeling a bit more self conscious about your body which seems noticed by sevika. you agree to help her workout but what you don’t expect is to get something out of it too.

pairing: fem!reader x sevika arcane

contains: mature content (18+) MEN & MINORS DNI, talks of body image and weight insecurity, restricting food consumption (only happens once), smut including thigh riding (as requested 🫣), shower sex, fingering (r!receiving), body worship, SO MUCH PRAISE!!!

word count: 3.7K

a/n: i sort self inserted due to the fact that i wrote this when i was extremely insecure. i hope everyone enjoys! thank you angels <3

When Sevika asked you to help her ‘workout’, you assumed that meant just being her spotter at her little makeshift gym in your home.

As you stepped into said gym in your basic loungewear, you glanced over at Sevika’s stretching figure. Your eyes linger down her revealed toned body, a cropped tank top covering half of her torso and a pair of running shorts hugging her bottom half.

You were shamelessly gawking at her toned figure but snapped back into reality when you heard her clear her throat. Your eyes shot to hers, your cheeks hot from the attention.

“You ready?” Sevika hums as she flexes her open-finger gloved hands.

You nod but your brows furrow before pointing at the different equipment setups.

“Where do you want to start?”

Sevika motioned to the flat weight bench, tilting her head at you.

“Hip thrusts, baby,” she leans down to peck your lips. “It’s leg day.”

You glance at her legs subconsciously, admiring her tight and toned quads. You swore leg day was every day with how perfect her legs looked but you wouldn’t argue. The day that happens, you’d hoped someone would shoot you.

You wait patiently for her to grab her barbell but when she doesn’t move, you frown.

“Do you want… me to grab it?” You point to the silver bar, on the verge of moving your feet.

Sevika shakes her head and holds her hand out to signal for you to stop. You were confused. Why did she want you here?

As Sevika situates herself in the hip thrust position on the flat bench, she grins at you as she pats one of her thighs: “You’re going to be my weight today.”

You stare at her, the heat in your cheeks heightens in temperature.

“What?” Your voice is soft, uncertain of what you heard.

Sevika, annoyingly cocky, glances down her lap, eyebrows raising at your taken-aback state.

“You heard me. Come on, baby.”

You hesitantly stride over to her, now up close and personal with your girlfriend. Your eyes carefully trailed up for her strip of stomach, the intention of her abs and v-line making your head spin.

“I-I don’t know. Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sevika couldn’t help but chuckle at your words. A frown settles on your lips at her soft laughter.

You have been having a lot of weight and body image issues lately. It came and left in waves; attacking you when you least expected it. You always tried to hide it from Sevika, knowing how she would react. You were aware of the strength that Sevika held. It was obvious in her figure how much muscle she carried.

That, on most days, was enough reassurance that you weren’t too big for her. But on uncomfortable days like today, it was harder to see how she could be okay with how you look; that she truly enjoyed seeing you in this body you were trapped in.

You should’ve seen this coming as your first mistake was eating a much smaller breakfast than you usually did. Sevika had a permanently confused expression during the duration of you two eating together domestically at the dinner table.

“Everything okay, baby?” A simple question but her eyes were locked on the small portions on your plate.

You panicked as you were the worst liar in the world. Sevika knew this. She’s testing you, your mind shouted.

“No, yeah. I’m okay. Just not super hungry this morning,” you tell her as you look down at the plate, avoiding her intense gray eyes.

Sevika, everything but convinced, eyed you simply pushing around the fruit and eggs on your plate. After breakfast, Sevika became more touchy with you. It wasn’t helping as much as she thought it was.

It made you aware of the skin you were in and you wanted to burst into tears. You were relieved when she said she was going to change into her athleisure for a quick workout session.

Now, here you were just as afraid and self-conscious as before.

Sevika’s mechanical hand reaches for your waist, careful to not tug you too harshly, a more worried expression on her face.

“Angel, you won’t hurt me. Trust me.”

A lump settled in your throat. You didn’t mean to tense but you did the second she touched you. Sevika’s brows twitch at the sight but she’s patient with you. Carefully settling yourself on her lap, you place your hands on the exposed skin of her torso to steady yourself. You blush at the feeling of the muscles contracting at the touch.

Sevika assists you by holding your hips firmly. The cool metal sent shivers up your spine, staring down at her awaiting figure.

“I’m not too much, right?” You question insecurely.

“No,” she retorts, raising her brows as she begins to lower her hips so your body moves with her. “You are just right for me, baby.”

A heat trickles up your neck to your cheeks and the tip of your ears at the gentle praise Sevika is giving you. You weren’t really sure what to do in this position other than stare at your girlfriend underneath you. The sight of her abs contracting underneath your palms that were laid gently on the skin excited you in the most raunchiest way.

Was this view supposed to be so lewd? Or were you simply obsessed with her?

Both could be very true.

“See?” Sevika spoke up, snapping you out of your lust-driven stare. “This is easy. I could go all night with you on top of me. You should know this by now, my love.”

Gods, you swore your cheeks had a permanent blush burned into them from her alone. You knew she was referencing the many times you’ve blissfully rode her until you were shaking and begging for more, more, more. Sevika was more than cocky about that.

“Sev,” you shake your head, allowing yourself to take in the teasing that you knew was out of love.

The gray-eyed woman merely chuckles at your admirably shy state. No matter how many times she would praise you, kiss you, fuck you, you managed to be so timid around her. She knew the grasp she had on you but if you only could begin to understand the place in her heart she held for you.

She was more than elated to be able to constantly remind you of this. To be rid of those horrid thoughts that would make her perfect girl forget how much she means to her.

“If you could only see how beautiful you look. Not just right now, every single fucking day.”

Sevika’s hands, the cold contrasting with the warmth, lightly held you in your place as she continued to do her usual hip thrusts. There was not even a droplet of sweat on her body and you were in awe.

“You’re beautiful, too, Sev.” You try to discreetly shove the attention off of you.

It would never work in this situation.

“We’re not talking about me right now,” she shakes her head as she routinely does her hip thrusts, a soft grunt leaving her distracting lips.

“Doesn’t make it not true, though, baby,” you hum as a matter-of-factly.

The woman underneath you was an extremely expressive person. Her face said what her mouth didn’t so when you locked eyes with her after refusing the praise, you knew you were in for it.

Her gray eyes were dilated with what you could only assume was frustration. Guilt flooded your system as you opened your mouth, ready to say a thousand apologies.

“I’m so—”

Sevika cuts you off abruptly stopping her hip thrusts and a stern expression. “No. No sorries.”

“Sevika, I’m fine. You really didn’t have to do this.” You sigh and shake your head, feeling embarrassed once again that you were feeling so ridiculously insecure.

Sevika’s brows rise at your words, sniffling her nose as she shifts her hips so that you lean more on your weight on her lower abdomen. You let out a noise of surprise at the jolt and your hands now rest more on her ribcage.

She speaks gently, rubbing her both hands over your waist, and asks a simple one-word question: “Shower?”

The atmosphere in the bathroom was… eerily erotic. Sevika had detached her mechanic arm before the shower as she didn’t want it to rust so she was slowly removing her clothing with one hand now. You were reluctant to remove your own loungewear but you knew you couldn’t shower with your clothes on.

Sevika’s thick fingers hooked on the waistband of her shorts and leisurely tugged them down her meaty thighs. You blush as her underwear tugs down a bit to reveal her strip of hair above her pubic bone.

The shower head had already turned on, allowing the cool water to pass and the hot to follow. You took your time removing your pants, letting the fabric hit the ground along with Sevika’s. Your eyes catch her own as she tugs down her underwear now. She jerked her head towards her taller frame, hoping you’d come closer to her.

The two of you carefully removed each other’s clothing as you refrained from glancing at the slightly cracked mirror above the sink. Sevika, to no surprise, kept her gentle and loving composure as she traced her fingers over your skin after every removal of clothing.

Every stretch mark, bump, dots of cellulite, marks, and clumsy bruises was touched with worship. No one had spoken a single word through the entirety of it. You both hopped in the shower once the steam began to fog up the mirror, careful not to slip on the tub or curtain.

“What happened?” Sevika hums as she reaches for the soap.

You knew what she meant, pushing a few wet strands of hair out of your face. What triggered this rotten feeling?

“I don’t know. One of those days, I guess.” You respond with a sigh.

Sevika nods in understanding, squirting some of the soap on the loofah that was hanging on the small shower caddy.

“Do you think my scars are ugly?” Sevika questions, loofah in hand.

Your neck nearly breaks as you look up from the base of the tub to meet her mesmerizing gaze. You shook your head rapidly as your eyes followed the blue scars that began at the apple of her right cheek tracing down the side of her torso to her hip bone.

“No, of course not.” You frown.

“Why is it different for you then, baby? Hmm?” She questions as she begins to scrub at your neckline.

The question made you think for a moment. Sevika was patient with you as she continued to wash your upper body.

“It’s… easier to be mean to myself than nice,” you respond carefully looking up at her as you swallow the lump in your throat.

Sevika couldn’t believe her ears. Her eyes round with affliction at your words.

“Baby.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Sevika shakes her head as she shushes you, scrubbing down your body with nothing but tenderness and consideration. You refrain from making eye contact with her, afraid you’ll burst into tears at the vulnerability.

“You always tell me that I don’t need to go through things alone. The same goes for you.”

You frown at her words, hit with the obvious hypocrisy. You couldn’t even conjure up an argument as she was right.

“It feels different,” you attempt as you watch her kneel down to scrub at your legs.

Sevika hummed a disapproving sound, glancing up at you as she stood back up on her feet. You avoid her eye line as you let the water rinse the suds of soap off of your body.

“Angel,” she sets the loofah aside, cupping your face with her hand. “You deserve to feel just as good about yourself and your body just as much as me. No matter what your mind is making you believe.”

You knew she was right. It is just so much easier to belittle yourself than to accept praise.

“I know. I’m… trying.”

Sevika leans down to kiss you gently, humming against your lips. You eagerly follow her lips reaching up to cup the sides of her neck.

“Baby, I love you,” she pulls away lightly to whisper against your lips breathily. “More than anything.”

“I love you more.” You whisper with a soft laugh, already feeling more joyful than just a few seconds ago.

Sevika beams at the clear sign of your mood changing, lifting you out of that evil lingering in your mind. You detach your lips with a soft smack to grab the loofah and start to scrub at her body just as she did yours. Sevika carefully watches you with attentive eyes.

As you scrub the thin layer of grime and sweat from her workout, trying your hardest to not get distracted by her sculpted figure. Sevika’s palm carefully moves down from your soft shoulders.

You shiver at the feeling of her thick fingers lingering down your body. You try not to make it obvious how much you wanted to shove her hand in between your legs but you inching forward into her body gave that away.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” she praises as her fingers trace to the soft of your stomach.

You suck in a deep breath as you mutter a ‘thank you’ in response to the sweet words. Sevika leans in closer to you, your hand nearly dropping the loofah when she just barely brushes her fingers right above your cunt. Your eyes flutter as you angle your hips, looking up at her with a dazed look.

“Can you touch me please?” You whisper.

Sevika attempts to hide her glee but she smiles as she cranes her neck down to place long, loving kisses on the length of your neck. “Of course, baby. Just relax. Let yourself feel good for me, okay?”

You nod rapidly at the words as she uses her middle finger to tease through your folds. You gasp softly as Sevika carefully slides her thick finger into your warm cunt, the water from the shower head dripping down her strong forearm. It was surprisingly beautiful sightseeing her inside of you.

Your hips grind down on her finger as she slowly pumps the finger in and out of you. Goosebumps rose to your skin at the stretch of her, whimpering as she slid another finger into you. Her pointer and middle thrusts in and out of you, her lips littering every patch of skin she could access in lingering kisses.

“There you go. Just needed a reminder about how fucking beautiful you are, hmm?” Sevika breathily questions against your cheek, another sloppy kiss to your skin.

You nod at her words, a hand tightly gripping Sevika’s bicep to keep yourself grounded.

“Yeah, I did. I love the way you make me feel, baby,” you use your other hand to pull her into a soft kiss.

Sevika inhales deeply as she moves her lips against your own, greedily fucking her fingers into you. She couldn’t get enough of the addicting feeling of your walls clenching around her. You ghost your lips over hers to softly moan into her hot mouth.

You couldn’t believe how much she was reaching with just her fingers.

“Sevi, can I—” You shiver at the feeling of her curling her fingers inside of you, your moaning cutting you off. “Can I ride your thigh, please? Been thinkin’ about it since watching you workout earlier.”

The muscular woman lets out a low chuckle at the question, kissing your temple.

“How could I say no to my perfect girl?”

“You can,” you quip, muttering a curse under your breath as she picks up her pace.

Sevika smiles softly at your words, tilting her head to force eye contact with you. You flush underneath her stunning gray gaze, overwhelmed with the amount of love radiating from her eyes.

“Fuck, I love you,” she kisses you softly, heavy breathing against your lips.

You follow her lips with a soft ‘hmph’. “I love you, Sev.”

Sevika slows her fingers that were inside of you to carefully remove them. As much as you knew she had to take them out, you loathed the empty feeling.

She held her fingers up to her lips to suck off the arousal before the shower got to them.

Sevika could consume you until her last breath.

She helped adjust you so that her leg was placed in between your legs. You sigh at the pressure against your clit, the tight skin that you had been craving against your skin.

You shiver as you rut your aching clit on Sevika’s muscular thigh, hands gripping onto her broad shoulders. A low moan leaves your mouth as you try not to become too greedy with your movements. Sevika’s head buries itself into the crook of your neck, placing ever-so-soft kisses on the damp skin. The hot water was pattering and trickling down the length of her back.

She was holding you up solely by her leg strength, an encouraging palm on your waist.

“You’re so beautiful.” One kiss to the length of your neck. “My beautiful girl.” Another behind your ear.

You preen with a soft gasp as her grip tightens on you, helping you grind down on her thigh. Your hands glide up to cup underneath her jaw, silently begging to see her face. Sevika detaches her lips from your skin to press her lips to yours, humming against your mouth.

The smacking of your messy kisses and Sevika’s tongue swiping over yours and into your mouth caused your cunt to clench around nothing. Your legs were burning at this point from how much you were feverishly grinding your hips down on her.

“Baby,” you whine against her lips as you grip her face to keep her close to you.

“Yeah?” She taunts, brushing her lips hungrily on yours.

“I wanna cum. Please,” you beg.

There was a familiar tightening feeling in your gut, tilting your head back to rest against the tile as you shakily kept your movements going. Sevika stares down at you with a mix of love and lust, watching you get yourself off on her thigh.

So beautifully obscene for her.

“You can cum for me. You’re doing so good, angel.” She taunts, muttering a curse at the sight of your ruts weakening.

“Sevi, please.” You whine, becoming more and more frustrated.

Your orgasm was teasing at your lower spine as you tried to pick up the speed. The inner part of your thighs were burning now, eyes prickling with tears. Sevika places loving and long kisses all over the soft of your face.

“Okay, baby. Keep moving those perfect hips for me, okay? I’ll help grind them down so you can cum for me.”

The subtle sneaks of praise weren’t helping with your need to cum. She made you feel like the best version of yourself while learning to feel it on your own.

You mutter a breathy ‘okay’ as you keep going, nearly losing balance as you feel Sevika’s strong palm gripping your right hip. She, too, lifted her knee slightly upwards to apply more pressure to your aching clit. You moan loudly at the feeling, nodding rapidly at the pleasure.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty. My perfect girl.” Sevika lowly moans at the sight.

The water made your body glisten like a painting hung up in a museum. She shook her head in disbelief at how someone could be so many beautiful things all at once.

“So good to me, baby,” you whisper as you cup her neck.

“You deserve it. Every fucking good thing.” Sevika breathily pants as she listens for your moans pitch change.

Your hands loosen from her neck to completely wrap your arms around it, burying your face into the crook of her neck to silence your breathy and whiny moans. Sevika presses loving kisses on the side of your head as she continues to assist your hip movements.

“I’m gonna cum,” you pull away slightly to whimper in her ear.

Sevika felt a shiver run down the length of her broad back at the sound, eyes shutting to take it in. She continued to shower you with kisses along with the water that was lukewarm at this point.

“Yeah? Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my thigh for me.”

You hold onto her tightly as you whine against her slightly scarred neck, sloppily kissing the skin. Sevika moans softly at the feeling, craning her neck upward. The water from the showerhead fell over her face, dribbling past her open mouth and over your head.

You nearly slip as your orgasm rips through your lower abdomen, lathering the toned quad with your cum. You pant hotly against her skin as your hips slow down to not overstimulate your throbbing cunt.

“Sevi,” you shiver as you keep your grip around her neck.

Sevika hums as she mindfully removes her thigh from in between your quivering legs. She held you up by the waist with her arm as you both swayed underneath the borderline-cool water.

“Was that good?” She questions lovingly, waiting for you to pull away when you are ready.

You snort with a shake of your, muttering a ‘fuck you’ playfully against her skin. Sevika chuckles lowly as she feels your head tilt up to kiss her jaw.

“You know, technically, I made myself cum.” You tease, nosing underneath her jaw.

Sevika’s brows furrow at your words, looking down at you with an offended expression. You beam up at her, tilting your head to the side.

“Oh, so what was me fingering you then?” She remarks.

“Okay, you helped a little,” you continue.

Sevika, unsatisfied with your answer, leans down to bury her face into the crook of your neck to tickle at the skin with her nose. You laugh at the feeling of your girlfriend’s smile on your skin, gasping when the sudden ice-cold water runs over your bodies. Sevika curses as she releases your waist to reach for the knob to turn off the water that was prickling your skin.

The two of you hop out of the shower mere seconds after being hit with the freezing water, unable to detach yourselves from one other. After drying off and putting on some everyday clothes, Sevika and you settle into your shared bed. Your limbs tangle as you find comfort in each other’s warmth.

Every lingering thought of insecurity was suppressed for the time being. With each passing day spent with Sevika, you were bound to never have to feel that way again.

TAG-LIST: @eilishxo @ivyfalsegod @archangeldyke-all @auraclus @lavenderbabu @thewonderlandish @elliessgfsstuff @devilsangelxxx16 @hwasddeongbyeoli @saturnknows @scp116 @iwillpokeyouwithmyknife @cicato @angelcorner @doppelman @suui3 @vaneplvblog @naomqq @lovinglynny @gravegoer @sapphicarribean @yaeil @ladycupa0-0 @cherry-n-cheeks @k4tz4 @vqmpxre @lanaismotherrrrrrr @chaostudi @lazycat-things @satansfinest9 @soodle-noup @themostlesbianever @hafisjfjsit @cucumbernimbis @maaaaaaaaaaari @amoraeu @angelynn-nicole @mall-fountain-daydream @iamaboringrattat @slingshotsniperking @thesevi0lentdelights @bilsvlt @thalchmy @chatimfinnacrashout @luizadms @peanutbutterprincess @ivana1999999-blog @strawberrykidneystone @halle5s @foreingersgod @tyra-is-so-delulu @fuzzycucumber @biblicallyaccuratemusclemommy @xoxomymyy @hearts4joongie @srtctra @hellokittyfeenie @pookiewookiebazooka @debs171110 @lesbodietcoke @hearts4caitlin (TAGS CONT. IN THE COMMENTS)

[weakformingyu]

Everything has changed | H.J.

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!reader

Summary: in a game party you find out that your friend, Jisung, might have a crush on you and after that night you might have developed a crush on him too.

Warnings: Han is a loser, awkwardness, jealousy, pool sex 💅🏻, pussy eating, unprotected piv(don't do this at home), a bit of handjob.

Words count: ±3,400

THIS CONTENT IS FOR +18 PEOPLE ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!!!!

A/N: I have some weird ass writers block right now(have been like this for months 😭) but I'm not dead, I'm still alive and thinking about a hundred fics a day, I just don't seem to manage to write them 🤓☝🏻 anyways, this fic was inspired in this post because Han Jisung got some crazy biceps going on here and I'm on my biceps biting era soooo 💅🏻(don't come for me if it's trashy, I haven't written in a hundred years)

If you like my writing don't forget to reblog, comment and like too. xoxo love yall

“What do you think about Jisung?” Was the question Changbin asked when you chose truth in the game of truth or dare you were playing.

You smile sheepishly as all the boys stare at you excitedly and the girls have a little smirk on their lips, as if everyone knows something you don't.

“Hm, he's nice”, you shrug.

“You know that's not what he meant”, Ryujin says, raising a brow.

“Well, then be more specific”, you roll your eyes.

“Would you fuck him?” Karina asks, making the whole group gasp with her bluntness. Your eyes dart to Jisung, who's as red as a tomato, his bottom lips are stuck between his teeth while he stares at you anxiously.

“That's- I never thought about that, so I'm not sure”, you answer nervously. Seeing Jisung’s shoulders go down and a pout form in his lips.

“Then, there's your answer”, Karina shrugs, turning the bottle so someone else can go.

You were being truthful, you never thought about your friend in that way. You know he's handsome but you always avoid having second intentions with someone so close to you because you don't want to lose a friendship.

However, after that day and after seeing Jisung's reaction to your answer, you can't shake the feeling that maybe he's into you. You constantly catch his gaze lingering on you, when you guys are alone he keeps stuttering and even when your other friends are around, he treats you differently from them.

A few weekends after that night, Chan invites everyone to a get together in his house so everyone's going to sleep there after. Karina, Ryujin and Lia stop by your house in the early afternoon to get you so you can all go to Chan's together. When you get there, the guys are in the pool playing some sort of game, Felix and Changbin are on top of two floats, fighting while Minho is attacking Changbin with his water gun and Jisung is in the middle of both.

You stop in your tracks, watching as Jisung holds Changbins thighs, his biceps are deliciously showing and flexing as the older man falls out of the float and the younger one catches him, grabbing his bottom slightly but you can't help but wish you could be the one being grabbed by him like that.

Yes, you weren't lying that night when you said you had never thought about Jisung in that way. The problem is, that after you did, you couldn't stop. Everything he did from that night onwards caught your attention. His eyes on you, his lips, the way he smirks when someone says something dirty and he thinks no one's paying attention. The way every piece of fabric he wears hugs his body like it was made just for him. Your girlfriends are already onto you, they know something is off and they have the feeling that you finally opened your eyes to the puppy in love in your group of friends, but they decided not to say anything for now, afraid that they are going to scare you off and make you bury your new found attraction for Jisung deep in your heart, afraid to ruin your friendship.

You shake your head, listening to what the others are talking while you go inside to put your things in the guestroom Chan has prepared for you.

You spend the afternoon mostly just sunbathing while observing the guys joking around and other people arrive little by little taking your attention away from the pool.

While you eat, you can't help but notice a blonde laughing too loudly, catching your attention. She pushes Jisung playfully, throwing her head back, making you huff annoyed, you're sure what he said isn't even that funny.

“I'm gonna get some more beer, does anyone want something from the kitchen?” Jisung gets up, asking around.

“I'll help”, the blonde smiles, following him after some people ask for their beverage of choice and your eyes linger on his figure, as he walks away with the beautiful girl.

“Oh, y/n, can you get some more napkins for us?” Ryujin asks. You frown, you're sure you just saw a mountain of napkins somewhere but you have no idea where it went as you look around and can't find it.

“Sure”, you nod, getting up to go to the kitchen.

As soon as you enter the house you can hear the giggles coming from the kitchen. You take a deep breath trying to gather the courage to go inside and see something you're not sure you want to.

The girl is close to Jisung, too close for her own good, attached to his arm, practically hanging on to him. You scowl, feeling the blood in your body boiling, if you weren't sure about your feelings for your friend, you are damn sure now seeing as you're basically foaming at the mouth with the view right in front of you.

Jisungs gaze lands on you immediately when you enter the kitchen, his eyes grow wide and he takes a step back, detaching himself from the girl.

“Am I interrupting?” You ask, knowing well that you are and ignoring the glare the blonde gives you.

“Ye-” she tries to say, but is cut off by the man whose gaze hasn't left your figure since the moment you arrived.

“No”, he gulps, “what are you looking for?” Jisung asks.

“Napkins”, you say, tilting your head and leaning over the counter. Your elbows rest on the surface, purposely bringing attention to your chest.

“Just a minute”, Jisung gulps, turning around and opening the fridge. He takes out four cans of beer and gives it to the blonde. “You can go back first, I'll bring the rest in a minute”

She looks at him for a whole 10 seconds, stunned and then huffs, marching out of there.

“Your girlfriend is lovely”, you tease him, walking around the counter to get closer to him.

“She's not my girlfriend”, he laughs sheepishly, “we were just talking”

“I'm sure you were”, you say sarcastically and stare at him for a moment. “So? The napkins?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah! Here”, he says, turning around to open the door to the cabinet on top of the sink.

Jisung’s arms look especially strong when he's flexing like that to pull the packages, it's something so mundane but it makes you blush the same way. He closes the door after and hands the products to you. “I'm going to get the beer for the others and follow you in a moment”

You nod, realizing that everything is different now that you know that you like your friend. You like Han Jisung.

You wake up the next morning feeling like shit, you tossed and turned in your bed until you finally fell asleep. You thought about all the things that could go wrong now that you liked one of your friends. What if things didn't work out between you two, you're sure it would cause a rift on your friend group.

Most people went home after midnight, Chan lets only his close friends crash in his house so you know everyone that stayed the night. Lia is by your side, yapping about what you're planning to do in the afternoon while you bite into your bread and try to not freak out when Jisung shows up in the living room. You keep avoiding his eyes, like you're guilty of something, and you definitely are, guilty of liking one of your friends.

In the afternoon you go out with Ryujin, Felix and Hyunjin, you all wanna walk around in the city and buy some clothes you definitely don't need. In the car you stare outside, your friends notice you're dozing around but prefer to wait for you to tell them if something is wrong.

After buying a new bikini, you just accompany your friends in their shopping spree. When you have no more room in the car for any more bags, you finally sit to get something to eat and while you wait for your order, you seize the opportunity to ask what's been on your mind in the last hour.

“Does Jisung like me?” You ask, you want to be sure that he doesn't want to just sleep with you.

“Where did that come from?” Felix frowns.

“That night I was asked if I would sleep with him”, you blush, “I was just wondering if he likes me or just finds me attractive”

Below the table, your fingers are pressing and scratching one another, you're nervous.

“I thought it was pretty obvious”, Hyunjin says, shrugging and getting elbowed by Felix.

“I don't think we are supposed to talk about that”, the younger one smiles awkwardly.

“Oh, please. It's not like the guy has made any effort to keep it a secret”, Ryujin rolls her eyes. “Clearly y/n likes him, that's why she wants to know”, your friend completes, laughing as your eyes grow wide. “It's not like you are making any effort to hide it either”

“Yes, he likes you”, Hyunjin says, ignoring Felix’s worries, “but he was very disheartened after that night when you said you never thought about him in that way”

‘It's a lie, but you don't need to know that’, he thinks to himself. Hyunjin is much more experienced in the love field, opposite to you and Jisung, so he knows you just need a little push for things to start working out and he doesn't mind being the one shoving you to each other.

“Oh”, that's all you can say.

That means maybe he doesn't like you anymore, right? That girl from the other night was very pretty, maybe she's his new type. She looked very girly and soft, you don't know if you would be considered any of that. Most importantly, she was clearly interested in him, maybe he wants to go after someone who doesn't reject him in front of everyone he knows.

You toss and turn once more in bed, Ryujin is sleeping right next to you and you're afraid of waking her up because you can't sleep. Your mind is so full of thoughts, a million per hour and you just can't stop thinking about how you ruined everything with the guy you like.

Even with the AC turned on, you're still hot and since you don't want to wake up anyone, you silently grab your bikini, putting it on before going to the pool.

You didn't expect to find Jisung there, he's just floating in the water with a pout on his lips and eyes closed, maybe he fell asleep?

You sit comfortably on the edge of the pool, putting only your feet in the water and watching Jisung. After a few minutes of complete stillness, the man opens his eyes, taking a deep breath and sinking into the water.

He comes back a few seconds later, back turned to you and you can't help but watch him. His back is muscular, broad shoulders with a tiny waist. When he turns around, he flinches, seeing you there, staring at him.

“I didn't mean to scare you”, you chuckle.

“It's fine”, he scratches the back of his head, “I thought I was the only one still awake”

“It's really hot, I couldn't sleep”, you say, it's not the whole truth but you're not sure if you want him to know that he's the reason you're still wide awake.

He nods, awkwardly looking around while his hands play with the water. Since that game, you both have been feeling weird near each other, you for discovering these new emotions towards your friend and him for being embarrassed that you knew about his one sided crush.

‘Maybe it's worth it’, you think to yourself. He already risked it all when he let you know about his crush, it's not the end of the world if he doesn't like you anymore, you just have to ask.

“About that night…”, you ask out of nowhere with a courage you have no idea where it came from. “Do you still like me?”

Jisung opens his mouth a few times, closing it right after, not knowing what to say. He takes a deep breath before answering.

“I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or anything”, he sighs.

“Do you still like me?” You frown, repeating your question.

“Yeah, I do”, he shrugs, embarrassed.

“I never thought about you that way before”, you say, seeing the pout growing in his lips, “but after that night I kinda did”

Jisung stares at you for a minute before speaking again.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I like you back”, you feel your whole face heating while you wait for him to react. You both are still far from each other, Jisung in the middle of the pool while you're at the edge. His eyes grow wide and his lips open like he has something to say but doesn't know how.

He starts coming close to you, your heart beating faster as the distance between you both lessens, until the man stops in front of you, his hands landing on each side of your thighs but still not touching.

“Can you repeat that?” He blushes, “I don't want you to say you like me back just because you pity me”, he bites on his bottom lip and you smile. You cup his face with your hands, bending down so you can kiss him. His lips are soft and he tastes good, sweet, like something you would never get tired of. His hands finally touch your skin, sliding to your thighs and squeezing the plushy flesh.

“If you knew me at all, you'd know I would never lie about liking someone”, you let go of him, smiling and giving him a peck before growing the distance between your faces.

“I just really like you”, he blushes, biting his bottom lip, finally letting his gaze travel down your body, going through your tits pushed up by the bikini top and going down your stomach, until it reaches your bikini bottom, his hands squeezing your thighs even more to the view of your body in front of him.

“Is that so?” You smirk, “show me then”, you smile, bending down to whisper in his ear. “Show me how much you like me”

Jisung doesn't waste any time, grabbing your face with only one hand and squeezing your cheeks, kissing you harshly. His other hand slides up, pulling the strings of your bikini bottom so he can untie the bow. He pulls away from you, leaving kisses down your neck, he has his hand down on your pussy, putting on a finger and watching your reaction to it.

You moan, grinding your hips against his hand so you can feel him deeper. Jisung has his mouth slightly opened, dazed with the little whimpers you let out when he adds another finger inside you. Your hands go instantly to his shoulders, nails burying in his skin while his other hand unties the top of your bikini, freeing your tits. Jisung watches them bounce with his bottom lip stuck between his teeth. He can't help himself, coming closer, his mouth closing on your left breast, his tongue playing with your nipple, making you moan.

His thumb slides to your clit and you bite on your bottom lip, trying not to make too much noise — at least not more than you're already making.

The man smiles, kissing down your stomach, getting closer to your pussy and you can feel his breath hitting the skin, making you tremble.

He licks a stripe between your folds, your hands fly to his hair pulling the locks. Jisung's hands slide to your thighs, pulling you more to the edge of the pool. Putting your legs over his shoulders and grabbing your ass so he can eat you out more intensely.

He looks like a man starved, the way he groans and moans just by feeling your taste. Jisung is so turned on he could come just by feeling your tight pussy in his mouth. The sounds you make are divine, he can't believe he gets to hear you like this, because of him, just for him.

“I- I'm gonna-”, you can't even finish your sentence, moaning the moment you try to say more than three words.

“Come for me, baby”, he stops eating you out just to say it, going back to work as soon as the words leave his mouth, he stares at you intensely from down there, working even harder and making you come undone in his mouth.

You take a few deep breaths, eyes closed. You can't believe how good he's at this and it also makes you a bit jealous, how did he get so good?

You watch as the man cleans around his mouth with his thumb, immediately taking the finger to his mouth to lick it clean and you hold the moan that wants to escape your mouth.

“Do you want to keep going?” He asks, not expecting you to but hoping that you do.

You nod, untying the other side of your bikini bottom, throwing the piece of fabric behind you.

You take Jisung's hands in yours, guiding them to your waist as you push yourself into the water. The man holds you, kissing your lips as soon as you are close enough to him. You can feel his hard cock pressing against your thighs when he pulls you towards him, wanting to feel your body on his and you can feel the heat growing all over your body again.

You slide your hand inside his shorts, grabbing his dick and making him whimper in your mouth. You bite on his bottom lip, your hand makes movements of back and forth, making Jisung bend down and bite your shoulder, trying to suppress his moan. You groan, it feels good having him so close to you, marking you as his.

You pull his shorts down all the way down, pushing yourself up and wrapping your legs around his hips. Jisung grabs his cock, rubbing his tip on your entrance, slightly teasing your clit.

“Are you sure about this?” He groans, trying to control himself, “after this I won't let you go”

You nod, closing your eyes in anticipation.

“Words”, he whispers, barely being able to hold himself back.

“Fuck.me.now”, you say with gritted teeth, opening your eyes to stare at him, holding onto his shoulders when he finally enters you.

You feel like heaven when he's inside you, your velvet walls tightening around him make him groan.

“Shit”, he cusses, biting on his bottom lip. “You're so hot”, he gets closer, kissing you deeply. His lips are so soft, you could never get over it.

Jisung starts thrusting, wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you closer, fucking you deeper.

Your hands slide to his hair, pulling the locks while his lips go down your neck. He bites on your skin, sucking the area until it's red and you're sure it's gonna leave a mark. One of his hands goes to your clit, rubbing the bud, making you get closer to your climax.

“I'm close”, he says, his thrusts faster and his fingers working diligently.

“I'm close too”, you say, kissing him, feeling his thrusts getting sloppier. You feel the hot liquid being spilled inside you, but he doesn't stop. Jisung keeps going, putting more pressure into your clit until you're trembling around him. He whimpers in your mouth, his hips faltering and both of your breaths growing tired.

He rests his head on your shoulder for a few seconds, before moving away from you, staring at you like you're going to fight him and run off.

“I guess you like me a lot”, you smirk, watching him blush and smile.

“Do you wanna go out with me?” He asks, biting on his bottom lip.

“I thought you'd never ask”, you smile, giving him a peck on the lips. “I even already have the reason for our first fight”, you raise one brow, laughing as his eyes grow wide.

“What?”

“You are going to have to explain to me how you got so good at eating pussy”, you tease and he smiles.

“I guess I'm just a natural”, he shrugs, making you shake your head in amusement and kiss him.

You could get used to this, you definitely can.