#perhaps i just need to cherish what is already there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelsgoldrush · 6 months ago

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➽ summary: To love is to cherish, to endure, to fight. But to love is also to forget—at least, for you and Logan. Despite countless attempts to erase the part of yourselves that yearns to find completion in each other, you always end up back where it all began: the moment your eyes first met his—the moment everything changed.

➽ word count: 12.4k words

➽ warnings/tags: mdni smut 18+ angst. fluff. feels. enemies to lovers. petnames. multiple focalizors/POVs. memory loss. x1 logan. mutant!reader. flashbacks. dirty talk. oral (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. unprotected p in v. missionary. doggy. creampie. cum swallowing.

➽ a/n: inspired by “eternal sunshine of the spotless mind”, one of the most hauntingly beautiful (and life-changing) films ever made. i took some creative liberties when it came to charles' powers, so just follow along. i’d love to know your thoughts on this one, hope you like it as much as i do! <3

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. Each prayer accepted and each wish resigned.

Alexander Pope.

Logan thinks Jean is speaking to him, but her words dissolve into fragments, lost before they reach him. Her reddish lips shape the vowels and consonants with precision, yet the meaning is drowned out by the pulse in his ears. She’s agitated, her long strides barely matching his pace, heels striking the wooden floor in a staccato rhythm.

A few children peek their heads out from their rooms, curiosity tugging at their expressions as the tension unravels in the hallway. Had it always stretched this far into eternity? It feels as though he’s been walking it for centuries now.

If Jean Grey is the embodiment of grace and intellect, then Logan carries the weight of all the world’s stubbornness. It clings to him like a birthright. Defying her beliefs—or anyone’s—is as instinctual as breathing. She’s trying to dissuade him, to talk him out of this reckless act: asking Charles to meddle in what she’s called his personal issues. He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, focusing instead on the steady cadence of his steps toward the man’s office, each one heavier with purpose.

Jean’s voice grows sharper, her warnings echoing in his mind. This is a mistake. You’ll regret it. You’ll want to undo it. Don’t be stupid, Logan. Don’t do this to her—don’t do this to yourself.

But her protests are futile. The cards have already been laid out. Only meters from the door, he comes to a sudden halt. Jean, caught mid-stride, almost stumbles into his back. For a fleeting moment, hope flickers across her face. Maybe, just maybe, she’s convinced him to reconsider. A tentative smile begins to form on her lips, until he turns to her with a look so unyielding, it steals the breath from her lungs.

She has never seen him like this. This resolute, this… haunted. His jaw is clenched, his brow furrowed so tightly it seems etched in stone. There’s no trace of relief or satisfaction in his expression. Only the grim determination of a man about to pass a point of no return.

Why is he doing this? Soon, there will be hands prying into his thoughts, a marauder pulling apart his memories. Think about her. Now think about this moment. What do you remember? Each memory bearing your name, inked into his unconscious, will be inspected, cataloged, and then erased.

A mind already scarred will be stripped even further, the void swallowing everything. It has to come from a place of self-loathing, he thinks, because no reasonable explanation suffices. Perhaps he’s always been this broken, this damaged, and it was only a matter of time before he sought refuge in the very solution that had once been his calvary.

“I’ve made my choice,” he says with a tilt of his head which aims to deliver a tacit message: stay back. Don’t follow me. I have to do this. I need to.

So this is what it feels like, he thinks to himself, to willingly want to forget, to crave oblivion. To stop caring.

His fist hovers over the door, but he doesn’t have to knock. Charles’s been waiting for him. His voice resonates behind Logan’s eyelids, calm and inescapable. Come in.

“Coward.”

That’s the last thing he hears before he steps into the office, leaving her behind.

The first time you saw him, he was a contained storm, seconds away from coming undone in front of a rather small audience. Hardly the most convenient introduction.

You were in Charles’ office, attending one of his Physics lessons—not because you needed to. He’d already taught you these principles long ago, in a different time, under different circumstances. But lately, Charles had been trying to delegate some of his responsibilities, hoping to carve out time for the pressing matters that demanded his full attention. Ever the sweetheart, you’d offered to help, stepping in to take over this class.

Which is why you spent those past few weeks studying him—not just his teaching style, but the way he presented the topics: the analogies he drew, the subtle inflections in his tone. You’d promised yourself perfection, committed to live up to his standard, and that was exactly what you were working toward.

The sound of a door slamming shattered the flow of the lesson. A man burst into the room as though escaping from some unseen predator, shutting the door with a loud, final thud. He didn’t turn to face you. Instead, he lingered by the door, chest pressed against it, his ragged breathing filling the silence. The students abandoned whatever fragments of attention they had left for the class—this new stranger was far more compelling.

And, truthfully, he’d caught your attention, too.

You hesitated, fists clenching slightly at your sides, bracing for something you couldn’t name. A familiar voice cut through your thoughts, grounding you: This is the man I’ve been telling you about.

Apparently, this was Logan Howlett in the flesh. You certainly didn’t expect Charles’ newest recruit to look like this.

“Good morning, Logan,” Charles greeted him when the man finally spun around. From this distance, you could see the tension carved into his features, the crease in his forehead betraying his distress. Charles, still composed, redirected his focus to the students. “I’d like your definitions of weak and strong anthropic principles on my desk on Wednesday, all right? That’ll be all.”

They didn’t need to be told twice, gathering their belongings in a flurry of notebooks and murmured goodbyes, barely sparing you a glance as they shuffled out. You offered them a tight-lipped smile, lifting a hand in acknowledgment, but your attention was drawn elsewhere. Logan was looking at you—or rather, through you—with a gaze that felt assessing. You never quite met his eye.

He stood there barefoot, dressed only in a sweater and sweatpants, his breath still uneven. Disoriented. His eyes swept across the room, his expression distant yet guarded, as though he was questioning the reality of it all. Considering the way he carried himself, it almost seemed like this was his first encounter with other mutants—but you knew better.

At some point, Charles decided to break the tension. “I’m Charles Xavier,” he began, his tone inviting. “Would you like some breakfast?”

But, of course, his cordiality and kindness were dismissed, being met with a gruff, “Where am I?”

“Westchester, New York,” Charles replied evenly, maneuvering his wheelchair closer. “You were attacked. My people brought you here for medical attention.”

You hadn’t been part of the mission that led to this moment; that had been Scott and Storm. In fact, you hadn’t even met Logan or the girl they’d brought with him—Rogue, as you later learned. Although at the time, rooted in the aftermath, you stepped forward, bridging the distance between yourself and Logan. You extended a hand toward him, offering your name with a cautious smile. “Nice to meet you.”

The gesture lingered awkwardly in the air, refusing even the pretense of acknowledgment. His eyes locked on yours, piercing and unrelenting, and for a brief moment, you wondered if this was his way of dissecting you. Then his gaze shifted back to Charles, impatience dripping from every word he uttered. “I don’t need medical attention. Where’s the girl?”

Oh. So that’s how he wants to play this. You withdrew your hand, doing your best to mask the sting of rejection as you pivoted on your heels and returned to your place beside Charles. “Jerk,” you muttered, low enough that it almost drowned beneath your breath, fussing with your sleeves in a vain effort to seem unaffected.

He didn’t miss it. His expression hardened, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Come again?”

To end the exchange right there, Charles cleared his throat, effectively steering the conversation into a different direction. Seizing the opportunity, he wheeled himself closer to the brown-haired man, his composure intact. What you admired about him was his self-control, something you’d tried to master in the years spent under his guidance without success. Yet, you couldn’t fathom how he managed not to tell Logan to just fuck off. “About Rogue, she’s doing fine.”

Logan arched a brow, his sneer cutting through the air like a blade. “Really?” You couldn’t grasp how he could hold so much bitterness toward a person he barely knew. His voice was thick with condescension, and a dozen sharp retorts swirled in your mind, each one eager to escape your lips. Your mouth parted to respond on Charles’ behalf, but he beat you to it.

“You’re in my school for the gifted. For mutants.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the dense air. Even the act of breathing felt strained, a soundless tug-of-war for the air around you. “You do know you’re not the only one with gifts, don’t you?”

“Is that what you tell those kids?” Logan’s scoff was a window into his beliefs. “That they have gifts?”

“It’s no more than the truth.”

“Yeah? Truth my ass.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The words escaped you before you could stop them, fury flaring in your chest. You stepped forward, the crackling heat of frustration coursing through your veins, ending in your fingertips. His blank stare only fanned the flames. “We took you in. We saved your life. How about showing a little fucking gratitude?”

Logan advanced, and his eyes bored into yours with a stinging glint of smugness. “I don’t remember asking to be saved.”

Your jaw tightened. You could’ve cracked a tooth as well. “Well, the least you can do is not act like a complete prick.”

A hand encircled your wrist, its grip firm but soothing. Charles’ touch anchored you, grounding you back in the moment. Your breath faltered, tearing your gaze away from Logan’s eyes to meet Charles’ calm expression.

“Don’t be so hard on our guest, my dear,” he murmured, as if the hostility in the room didn’t exist. It could’ve also been that he was too practiced at disarming it. He didn’t bother to glance at Logan, speaking as though the man was just a shadow. “Give him some time. He needs it.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you bowed your head. You sidestepped Logan without another word, avoiding his presence like he was a flame that threatened to scorch. The tension clung to your skin, and you flung the room.

From that day on, Logan becomes the only subject you seem capable of discussing.

It’s everything about him—his walk, his voice, the sheer audacity of his existence—that drives you to the brink of madness. You tell yourself to let it go, to not let it eat away at you, but your mind refuses to cooperate. Each day, it does a stellar job of reminding you that you now share the same roof as a man with forks for hands.

Logan is, undeniably, the source of your every frustration.

“He’s an idiot,” you grumble around a bite of your lunch, settling into one of the chairs in the kitchen. Scott, Ororo, and Jean are gathered around the table with you, savoring a rare break before the afternoon classes pull them back into their routines. “I can confirm it.”

“Trust me, we know,” Ororo snaps, her tone more cutting than you expected. The words catch you off guard, and you pause, napkin halfway to your lips, to lift your eyebrows in surprise. “Look, I’m sorry,” she continues, her voice softening just a fraction, “but could you please talk about something else? It’s been Logan this, Logan that, for weeks now.”

“I think I understand what she means,” Scott chimes in, his tone lighter, nearly playful. You lift your hand for a high five, and he obliges with a grin, stealing a laugh from you.

“See? He gets it!”

Leaning back in his chair, your friend shakes his head. “I must admit I don't like the guy either. He’s—”

Jean’s elbow shoots out, jabbing Scott in the ribs just as Logan crosses the kitchen threshold. Scott’s indignant “Hey!” is muffled by your exaggerated cough, though it does little to mask the smirk threatening to break across your face.

How does the saying go? Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Logan’s eyes sweep across the room, his silence louder than the faint hum of the refrigerator. He strides toward the cupboard with methodical ease, and Storm bites her lip to stifle a laugh once she catches you watching him far longer than you should have. His back muscles tense and flex as he stretches his arms, the white tank clinging tighter with every movement.

“Please, don’t stop talking just because of me,” he remarks, his voice gravelly as he rummages through the cupboard, his focus presumably on some elusive snack. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Your response comes out of instinct, words laced with irritation. “It’s hard not to,” you retort curtly, putting down your sandwich with a firm slap of your palms against your jeans.

That gets his attention. Logan turns around to confront you, a flicker of amusement twitching at the edges of his mouth. It’s that toothy smile of his that sets your blood simmering. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You jump to your feet, matching his intensity. “Such a pity I can’t say the same about you.” Without missing a beat, you step closer, snatching the bag of chips he’s holding. Hiding them behind your back, tilting your head in mock innocence, and then saying, “Oops.”

His brows draw upward, though his tone stays measured, as if speaking to a child. “C’mon,” he replies, making a half-hearted grab for the bag. “How old are you? Twelve?”

Unable to suppress the grin threatening to break free, you rest your back against the counter. “We both know you can do much better than that.”

Already preparing yourself for the lecture Ororo’s going to unload on you the moment he leaves, you watch as Logan exhales sharply. His irritation is palpable in the way he leans in, one hand planting itself on the counter behind you, his frame eclipsing yours. The proximity is electric, his scent, a mix of leather and something woodsy, fogging your senses. Hazel eyes, so deep you could drown in them, peer down at you, as he attempts to strip away every layer you’re desperately trying to hold together.

Safe to say, it’s working. Damn it.

“Alright,” he finally says, tapping his fingers against the cool surface. “What do you want from me?”

Your galloping heartbeat is a major detail you choose to ignore, instead turning to the others for support. With an exaggerated motion, you point to each of your friends in turn. “Ororo and Scott were the ones who found you that day,” you start, trailing off, “and Jean ran a ton of tests on you to make sure you were okay. Have you even bothered to thank them for their hospitality?”

You believe you can joke with him—it’s how you usually bond with others, how most of your friendships have started. But you can’t help questioning if Logan can even get your sense of humor. The room falls silent, and his eyes flicker, just briefly, to your friends.

“You’re right, you’re right. My bad, princess.” One of his big, manly lands on your shoulder, the pressure of it too casual, too familiar, working the muscle there. Your fingers slacken around the bag of chips, the feeling of his touch making it harder to maintain your grip. “Guys, I’m deeply sorry for my lack of amiability. Hope you can forgive me.” The sarcasm is thick in his voice, but it’s the sensation that clings to you, that doesn’t seem to fade—the warmth of it seeping through the layers of your clothes, pressing into your skin, stubbornly refusing to fade.

His hand leaves only when he yanks the bag from your grasp, and the warmth that had been just beside you evaporates with his retreat. In an instant, he’s already pulling away, his parting words a careless “See you around,” tossed over his shoulder.

No one dares to speak after that. Because to speak would be to acknowledge what has just happened. Your stomach has turned into a knot, that kind of knot sailors make that are impossible for beginners to undo. Logan’s fingers left a burn in your shoulder. Can you still smell him, the trail he left? Scott is the first to speak after a minute or so. “What… was that?”

“I have no clue,” Jean says between bites, staring reflectively at you. “Care to elaborate?”

Your tongue feels heavy, your throat parched. Even if you tried, a rational explanation wouldn’t come.

Ever since you were a child, you had yearned to grow up, to experience love as only adults could. In your young, unformed mind, it all seemed like a simple equation: adults dated; adults embraced love in the flesh; adults reveled in freedoms that children could only dream of, waiting patiently for their time to come.

And you did grow up. You did fall in love. But now he’s forgotten you, and nothing could have prepared you for that kind of ending. It wasn’t the closure you would have chosen, not the goodbye you imagined for you and Logan.

You find yourself caught in the in-between—not quite a child, yet not fully an adult either. Because surely, an adult would know how to handle this pain. An adult would find a way to cope. But you feel small. Weak. Hopeless.

It leaves you wondering just how much you are willing to forsake.

More weeks go by, and Logan remains in the mansion, defying the departure you’d expected. Part of you is relieved. He moves through the halls like a shadow, his eyes always on Rogue: checking on her, observing her interactions with the rest of the students at the mansion. She’s thriving, really. Blending in with her peers, forming bonds, especially with a boy named Billy. They are quite the pair.

Yet, despite Rogue’s happiness, Logan can’t seem to shake the grim air that surrounds him, an aura that emanates a quiet kind of disgust.

One night, you’re flipping through channels in the living room, stopping when an old love movie catches your attention. You place the remote down on a cushion, and pull your knees up to your chest, the murmur of the characters’ voices the only sound in the otherwise hushed room. You don’t think anyone else is awake at this hour.

“Can’t sleep?”

There he is again. Always intruding, always finding his way back to you. The predator creeping into the vixen’s nest. He moves closer, slowly, and you lift your gaze to him, replying, “Actually, I’m a sleepwalker.”

Your comment earns a half-smile from Logan as he drops onto the couch beside you, his leg brushing against yours momentarily, worn denim against bare skin. His attention shifts to the TV, to the grainy images of the film playing out. You steal a glance at him, tracing the hard lines of his side profile.

“Feelin’ romantic tonight?” he asks.

“Not precisely,” you retort, fingers toying with the frayed edges of the blanket pooled at your feet. “There’s nothing else on. Sometimes you have to make do with what’s there.” Your gaze drifts back to him, lingering just a second too long before you add, “What about you? Any ghosts keeping you up?”

“You could call them that,” he says after a pause, his face still angled away. It must be easier to speak to you with this thin, invisible wall between you. “I have nightmares.”

“So you’re the one screaming at two in the morning?”

“Exactly. That’s me.” He ends up meeting your gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, harboring an emotion he doesn’t voice. “M’sorry if I ever woke you up.”

“I’m usually awake at that time, too.” Your eyes flick to the screen. The couple in the movie bursts out of a building into the rain, their body language unmistakably revealing the heated argument unfolding between them. The man, clad in a raincoat, removes it to cover the woman, his supposed girlfriend. She’s visibly upset, but accepts the gesture nevertheless. “You can always knock on my door if you need anything. Unless I’m snoring—then I’ll be useless.”

Logan clicks his tongue, his focus shifting to the film as well. The man shouts, ‘Because I love you, for God’s sake!’ He casts a glimpse in your direction, his expression unreadable. “Same goes for you.” The woman in the film responds with a strangled, ‘Then prove it!’

“Anytime?”

“Anytime.”

The man cradles the woman’s face before kissing her. She throws her arms around his neck, and the music swells, evolving into a much more melodic song. A chorus of angelic voices replaces the earlier tense harmony. The camera lingers on every angle of their kiss, every desperate touch, as the world outside their embrace ceases to exist.

“This is cheesy,” Logan mutters, his heel bumping against the floor in repeated, short motions. Is he nervous?

“Yeah, so cheesy,” you reply quickly, pulling the blanket over your lap and curling into yourself. He doesn’t look like he’s thinking about kissing you, not even remotely, but you are.

A quiet yawn escapes you, and you rub your fist against your eyes, sleep beginning to take over your body. Logan catches it, his own yawn following like a reflex. “Looks like the movie’s workin’ wonders,” he quips.

You let out a drowsy giggle. “Shut up,” you murmur, but then he’s inching closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. His warmth seeps through, and after a few seconds of hesitation, you allow yourself to lean into his frame, resting your head on his arm. It’s awkward, your neck already protesting the angle, but you accept it. You’ll take the stiffness tomorrow without complaint, because this moment is worth it.

It won’t last long, though, this rare tenderness. These nights, the quiet ones, are when Logan opens up the most—when Jean and Storm aren’t around, when it’s just the two of you. That’s when he approaches you, like a wary black cat testing the waters. But he doesn’t need to tread carefully. Not with you.

“What if I were to fall asleep… hypothetically?” Your eyelids grow heavier with each blink, the pauses between each one stretching longer. Your cheek nuzzles against him, seeking warmth, and you feel the subtle tug of his hand as he pulls the blanket over his legs as well.

“Hypothetically,” he begins, rasping his words near your temple, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Within moments, sleep claims you. You never find out what happens after that, but he stays, trailing quietly behind. No nightmares or shadows from his past dare to haunt him that night.

It was inevitable that an encounter like that would spiral into something more. You weren’t naïve. You could connect the dots, and the picture was clear: Logan wanted you, too. Desire often walked a fine line, and from hatred to something else, it’s hardly a leap—just a small, barely perceptible step. It could change with the shift of light, from dawn to dusk. But you’d need the strength to cross that line, to be bold enough to make the first move.

And now, with the sun already dipped below the horizon, taking its long-awaited rest after a full day of burning up in the sky, you find yourself alone in the kitchen, though you hadn’t started that way. Scott had lingered for a while, insisting he didn’t mind keeping you company. You’d thanked him with a polite smile before subtly nudging him out. It hadn’t taken much—just a few hints. Simplicity at its finest.

At the table, a neat pile of student papers spreads before you. Your pen dances across the pages, leaving corrections and grades in its wake. It’s then that he appears. He doesn’t speak at first, but his presence saturates the room like a shadow stretching across the floor. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him; it must be the unspoken familiarity of how he fills a space. Or maybe it’s just how attuned you’ve become to his every movement.

Logan leans in behind you, close enough that you feel the heat he radiates at your back. His low hum sends a shiver down your spine as he peers over your shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late to be playin’ the teacher?”

Your grip on the pen tightens, a small tremor in your fingers giving away the tension pooling in your stomach. You exhale softly, blowing on the fresh ink. “Would you prefer to have me doing something else?”

Smugness prickles at the edges of your words, but the resolve in your chest is faltering.

“Now that you mention it…” His voice dips, grating next to the shell of your ear as his chest brushes your back. His presence is magnetic, the scrape of his beard scratching your skin while he tilts your head to one side. His fingers sweep your hair over your shoulder, lips mapping the nape of your neck, tasting your fevered skin. “I might have a few ideas in mind.”

Your breath hitches. You try for composure, but it wavers in your reply. “Really?” you ask, because playing dumb always has its merits, after all. “Want to show me?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His hand moves deliberately, tracing a sensual, teasing path up your abdomen. His palm settles over one of your breasts, his thumb brushing the sensitive peak through your sweater. “I don’t think you’d want me to do it here,” he says, his voice thick with suggestion. “Too public for what I’ve got planned for you.”

You disentangle yourself from him, slipping off the chair with an unsteady grace, but Logan doesn’t give you time to find your feet. He smashes his lips with yours, the force of his kiss almost sending you reeling. His tongue presses insistently, seeking entry, as if the urgency in his touch could dissolve every barrier between you. He grabs your cheeks, holding you in place as though you might slip away, drawing you so close there’s barely space to breathe.

You’re caught off guard, not knowing where to put your hands, searching for purchase. The cold metal of the refrigerator handle digs into your lower back as he backs you against it, his groans reverberating through your mouth like a growled confession.

“My bedroom,” you manage to gasp between kisses. “Take me to my bedroom.”

Logan obliges, intertwining his fingers with yours. Together, you ascend the stairs, your laughter mingling in the noiseless night when he missteps and stumbles, momentarily breaking the spell. But he recovers quickly, finding your room in mere seconds.

The door clicks shut behind you, and he presses you against the wood with a force you’d never experienced, his hands sliding down to grip your ass and knead the supple flesh with a possessive fervor. It all helps to feed the fire pooling in your core.

“Quiet, baby,” he whispers, slipping his fingers beneath the back of your sweatpants. His nails trace fiery lines along your skin, igniting your every nerve. “Don’t want anyone wakin’ up to those pretty sounds you make. They’re just for me, right?”

You nod frantically, longing for more, arching into his hands as your hips grind against his, your body moving with a will of its own. The friction is exquisite, a tantalizing promise. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, his words laced with unfiltered hunger. “I’ve thought about havin’ you like this ever since I met you.”

His confession sends a surge of pride through your chest, an ache that feels equal parts affection and astonishment. Ever since the beginning? When he could barely look at you without scowling, his disdain practically tangible? “You hid it well,” you reply, breathless as you trace the outline of his erection over his jeans. The way it twitches under your undivided attention makes your pulse race. “I thought you hated me.”

He lets out a huff of laughter. “I thought the same about you,” he counters, before crushing his lips to yours once more. This time, you can’t help but smile into the kiss, your bodies moving as one, the pent-up tension between you unraveling in waves. “Guess we were both wrong.”

Your pants hit the floor in an unceremonious heap. It should embarrass you, how desperate and utterly needy you sound, the pleas spilling from your lips like the filthiest confessions. But the hunger in you is too vast, too insistent, drowning any possible flicker of shame. Decency was abandoned the moment you crossed that threshold. Logan nudges your legs apart with his knee, and the instant you feel him against your center, a contained sigh escapes you, half-resignation, half-surrender. Thought dissolves, leaving only instinct as you rock against him in slow circles, seeking relief.

“When was the last time someone took care of you?” He toys lazily with the waistband of your panties, like he has all the time in the world. You don’t give him an immediate answer, choosing instead to grind harder against his thigh, your breath hitching at the pressure. “Don’t go all shy on me now, sweetheart,” he says, dipping his head to mouth at your collarbone, the scent of his cologne heady and intoxicating. “Judging by the way you’re basically humpin’ me, I’d say it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“I don’t remember,” you blurt out, your head thudding against the door when his teeth nip at the delicate curve of your neck. Your pulse thrums beneath his lips, and you’re seconds from biting your tongue just to keep from crying out. “Stop teasing.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a wicked smile against your skin, his knee retreating only to be replaced by his fingers, trailing them along the fabric covering your heat. “I like it when you get bossy. It reminds me why I like you so damn much.” He tugs the fabric of your underwear aside, the cool air hitting your wetness for only a moment before his fingers glide over your arousal, testing your patience. One digit slides into you, curling slightly as his palm presses over your mouth, muffling the whine that falls from your parted lips. “So wet for me, princess.”

Your legs shake under the weight of sensation, threatening to give out as you lean into the door for balance. His fingers move inside you with a sharp rhythm, hitting that spot with each furious thrust. The pressure builds, hot and insistent, and it’s overwhelming, but then he drops to his knees, and the sight alone sends a jolt through your core.

The first drag of his tongue along your folds is molten. He laps at you with long strokes, his pace never faltering, pumping his digits in sync with the flick of his tongue, coaxing every sound you’ve tried so hard to stifle. “Oh, fuck. Logan—”

He groans against your core, his eyes remaining locked on your face, soaking in every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. His focus is relentless, as though your reactions fuel him. You rake your hands through his hair, clutching at his dark locks with haste whenever his wet muscle lavishes extra attention on your clit, the intensity of his ministrations making your voice break, a choked gasp dying on your lips.

Your climax teeters on the edge, faster than you anticipated. “Close,” you manage to huff, the obscene noises he elicits driving you wild. “I’m gonna come. Please, come here—”

Logan detaches himself from you, standing tall with a fierce determination in his eyes. He’s set on pushing you over the edge with his fingers alone. His lips crash against yours, biting and licking, swallowing every desperate mewl that falls from your mouth, spit glistening down his chin. Three knuckles deep, coaxing your body to respond, your walls tighten around him, shuddering as he corners you against the door, the sharp edge of pleasure sending your knees buckling. Your orgasm washes over you, rendering you boneless in his hold. Limp and spent, you can barely return his kisses, panting harshly against his mouth, his arms the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

As you steady your breath, a satisfied smile tugs at your lips. Your eyes flicker down to his slick palm, and a rush of pride floods you. "That was amazing," you breathe, your fingers, trembling slightly with anticipation, reaching for his belt to tug at it. “My turn now.”

He ends up with his back pressed against the headboard, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. You’re positioned between his legs, stimulating him over the fabric of his boxers. “It won’t take too long,” he says, and you feel the weight of his words more than hear them as you pull him free, revealing the hardness beneath. He’s already swollen, the tip wet with precum that coats your thumb as you stroke him once, feeling the heat pulse beneath your touch. A shiver runs through him, his legs stiffening as though on the edge of restraint. Bewitched by the size of him, you lean forward to slip the leaking head past your lips. “Jesus Christ.”

It’s difficult to take all of him at once, but you push through, your mouth stretching to accommodate his size. As you work him with your hand, your tongue traces the veins that snake along his length, feeling him throb. Logan’s body betrays him, his fists tightening around the sheets as if holding on to his last thread of control, desperately keeping his hips still, resisting the urge to fuck up into you.

“Honey, pull out,” he warns, stroking your back. “M’not jokin’. You’re gonna make me come.” But you don’t stop. Instead, you deepen your movements, cheeks hollowing as you take him with more enthusiasm, pushing him toward the back of your throat. When he realizes what you’re doing, a moan escapes him, laced with a dark laugh. “Filthy girl. So that’s what you want? To choke on my cum? Should’ve asked for it sooner.”

Not long afterwards, you feel the first splash of his release hitting your tastebuds. Ropes of his seed flood your mouth, some of it dribbling out to stain the corner of your lips. He watches, his thumb gently swiping over the edge, collecting what’s spilled, his eyes never leaving yours as he moves.

“Show me,” he asks, still breathless. You lean closer, your faces a whisper apart, and then you part your lips, revealing the evidence of your devotion like a masterpiece on display. His fingers find your chin, holding you there as he bites into his lower lip, the pressure turning the skin pale. “Now swallow,” he commands, and you obey, the motion deliberate, your satisfaction mirrored in the curve of his grin. He kisses you languidly, as if savoring the moment. “Where have you been all my life?”

The question invites countless answers, but you choose to murmur, “Down the hallway.”

“Logan, are you even listening?”

Charles’ voice slices through the playful moment, forcing Logan’s hands to still against your sides. The team sits around the table, embroiled in serious discussions that demand focus and discipline. Yet Logan’s fixation on you has rendered him deaf to anything beyond the sound of your laughter. Not a single word of the last hour and a half has stuck, his mind entirely preoccupied by the warmth of you perched on his lap.

He’d insisted he was much more comfortable than any chair, and you’d indulged him, leaning into his chest as his fingers danced teasingly along your ribs. “Of course I am,” Logan drawls, though the way his hand resumes tracing lazy circles on your stomach says otherwise, his entire attention remaining fixed on you.

“I don’t think you are,” Charles counters, leaning forward with both palms flat on his desk. His sharp gaze locks to you, narrowing faintly. “Do I need to seat you two on opposite ends of the room, or can you manage to behave?”

You stiffen in response, the easy comfort of moments ago evaporating. Sliding off Logan’s lap, you settle into the nearest chair, your departure catching him off guard. Your eyes meet his subtly, and you offer him an apologetic smile. Beneath the table, your fingers squeeze his knee, a silent reassurance. Finally, you direct your attention to Charles, straightening in your seat as if to demonstrate your newfound focus.

Logan, however, is less cooperative. His arms cross over his chest, and a crease forms between his brows, the picture of rebellion. Nothing that Charles says registers in his brain. All he can think about is how much better it felt to have you on his lap, where you weren’t bothering anyone. He contents himself with watching you now, contemplating your profile and the way your fingers absentmindedly tap against your notebook.

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. It’s not the same. You’ve been dating for a month, much to the surprise of everyone in the mansion. It’s as if the idea of the two of you together had never even crossed their minds. Not even Rogue believed it when she came to ask Logan if the rumors were true. He hadn’t known how to respond to her, caught between mirth and disbelief himself.

It’s been decades since he’s felt this alive. He’s head over heels for you in a way that’s exhilarating. Seeing you, even across a crowded room, lights a fire in him, and he has to actively fight the urge to walk over, pull you close, and kiss you senseless right there in front of your friends.

As the meeting finally draws to a close, Charles asks him to stay for a while. “I just need to have a quick word with you,” he says, waiting until the others leave.

Once you’re out of earshot, Charles sighs, shaking his head like an exhausted parent addressing his wayward child. “Look, I’m glad you two worked through your differences,” he begins, a note of cautious joviality in his tone, “but this... well, this is the opposite of that.”

Logan exhales wearily, rolling his eyes before he can stop himself, and regretting it instantly. Don’t shrug him off, his inner voice scolds him. “C’mon, Charles. You’re overreactin’.”

The man arches a brow. “Am I? Watching the two of you cuddling during a meeting feels like chaperoning teenagers. Honestly, I must admit you’re even worse than them at times.”

That remark lands harder than Logan expects. He opens his not-so-smart-mouth, ready with a retort, but no words come out. For once, his quick wit fails him, leaving him standing there in uncharacteristic silence.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Charles’ eyes fall shut. “Just… try to be more present, alright? And don’t distract her, or yourself, too much. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Later, when he recounts the conversation to you, you start pacing nervously across his bedroom, your teeth worrying at your nails.

“Maybe he’s right,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

“Darlin’—”

“I just don’t want him to be angry with us,” you cut him off, arms dropping to your sides in defeat. Turning toward him, you sit down on the edge of his bed, your shoulder brushing his as your eyes bore into the carpet. “Do you think we should... give each other some space?”

Your suggestion feels like a punch to his gut. He sits up straighter, hands finding their way to your hips as he guides you onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. “I think we’re fine the way we are,” he says, tipping his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours in a loving gesture, coaxing a small smile from you. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Are you happy with me?”

You nod—once, twice, like it’s the only answer you could possibly give. “I love you,” you whisper, the words trembling, your lips curving into a smile that he feels against his own when he kisses you.

“God,” he grumbles against your mouth, long fingers tightening on your hips. “I never get tired of hearin’ that.” Logan cups your ass through your clothes, rocking you against him, and a groan escapes his throat as your center presses against his half-hard cock. “Say it again,” he rasps, his voice wanting.

“I love you,” you breathe, your head falling back when his hands move to unbutton your shirt, his touch reverent and greedy all at once. “I love you so much.”

Before you know it, he’s rolled you onto your back, hovering above you as he peels away the layers between you. He can’t comprehend how he got so lucky, how he gets to have you like this every day, so pliant and eager beneath his body. Your whimpers grow softer, more airy, but even then, you’re still whispering how madly in love you are with him.

This is a memory he’ll hold on to when Charles inevitably asks him to reconsider—to think about what’s best for both you and him. Fragile moments like this will slip through his fingers, but for now, they’re his to cherish.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

It turns out that love doesn’t come neatly wrapped in perfection. No—it’s a chaotic blend of tender glances and fiery clashes, of whispered promises and cutting comebacks. It’s arguments that sting as much as they heal, moments that don’t glitter but still matter, making the difference.

“Fuck off!” you snap, shoving the door against its frame, trying to shut him out. But Logan’s hand wedges in the gap, his strength effortlessly outmatching yours. “Get out, Logan.”

“No.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he grits through clenched teeth, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Behind him, Jean calls your name, but he doesn’t turn. “Not now, Jean!” His voice echoes down the hall, and the sound of her retreating steps leaves the air tense.

You’ve already crossed the room, standing by the window. The sunlight filters through, painting your silhouette in warm flickers. Outside, the kids are in their break, passing a ball, their laughter carried by the breeze. Logan moves toward you, his presence heavy, and you hold up a hand to stop him.

“I’m going on that mission,” you say firmly.

“No, you’re not.”

Your head snaps toward him, a storm unraveling in your gaze. “Charles wants me there. The team wants me there,” you shoot back, jabbing a finger into his chest with each word, “and most importantly, I want to go. You don’t get to decide for me.”

Logan doesn’t step back, doesn’t flinch. He can’t understand how you don’t see his side of things, how the thought of you being in danger like this twists his insides into knots. “I can’t lose you.”

“Logan—”

“No, you don’t get it!” The words burst out of him. “What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt, and we can’t get you back in time?” His fists clench at his sides, fighting the need to pull you into his arms, to feel that you’re still here with him, still safe. “It’d kill me, because I love you with everything that I am. Just thinkin’ about losin’ you makes me sick.”

Your expression softens, but only for a moment. You take a step in his direction, closing the space between you. There’s no hesitation in your tone when you speak, leaving space for conviction. “I had a life before you, Logan. I’ve been here since I was a child, learning how to fight, how to survive. I’ve gone on missions for years—missions that were just as dangerous as this one. I don’t need you to protect me like this.” Your voice wavers, just barely. “I appreciate that you care, but I’m just as capable as you are.”

How long can someone hold their breath? Logan doesn’t even notice he’s doing it until your arms encircle his waist, your embrace melting the tension that’s been coiling in his chest. You bury your face against him, your breath steadying, and he draws a long breath, pressing his lips to your forehead like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His hand slides into your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a softness that feels almost out of place after the heated exchange.

“You get so bossy sometimes.”

"I thought you said you liked me bossy," you answer, your voice low, laced with mixed feelings, as you look up at him through hooded eyes.

Logan’s lips twitch into what aims to simulate a smile, but it’s weighed down by the sadness pooling in his gaze. It doesn’t reach the crinkle of his eyes, doesn’t carry the warmth it usually does.

“I do,” he says, his voice rough, barely audible, brushing a thumb across your cheek. The words hang between you, carrying a plea for things to feel less heavy, for this closeness to fix what words can’t.

The arguments come more frequently now. The love hasn’t faded—of course, it hasn’t—but it feels buried beneath the noise. You and Logan clash over everything, over nothing, over things neither of you can quite name, all the fucking time.

It’s a cycle that none of you can seem to break, passion feeding the fire until it burns too bright, too hot. One of you always storms out, slamming doors or throwing words that linger in the air like acid smoke. And yet, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how lost you both feel, the love is still there. Aching, waiting for the dust to settle.

You tell yourself it’s just a rough patch. That love like this isn’t easy, that it’s supposed to be messy. But sometimes, when the silence stretches too long after another fight, you can’t help but wonder how much more the two of you can take before something breaks for good.

Lust becomes your apology, an untamed collision of anger and desire that you can’t resist. It’s not gentle—it’s frenzied and blazing. The bed creaks beneath you, the sounds of your moans and the slap of his hips against your ass enveloping the room. Every thrust drives you closer, the ferocity of it making your head bump into the headboard, but all you can think about is how full he makes you feel.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, drooling all over the pillow, ass high up in the air as Logan continues to pound into you. He pulls out all of a sudden, making you gasp in protest. That’s when you feel his tongue against your slit, eating you out from behind, spreading your cheeks to see just how much further he can go. Your hand flies back, pressing him into your skin. “So good, baby. F-fuck.”

There’s no leaving him, not even in your wildest dreams. When he spills inside you, you always ask him to hold you close, whispering for him to stay there. To keep you full of him. And he does, fusing your body with the mattress, his weight anchoring you to the pleasure he knows how to grant you.

But then, it’s morning. The sun filters through the curtains, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets, and you’re tangled together, his arm heavy across your waist. You stare at the ceiling, your mind crawling back to the fight, to the anger that seemed so vital only hours ago. You have to force yourself to remember why you were so mad in the first place. As his hand slides over your hip, pulling you toward him, the memory slips further away.

Dating Logan means understanding the darkness he carries, the nightmares he has almost every night. Usually, you’re woken by his movements, his rambling, the tremors that run through his body. You’ve perfected a way of rousing him gently, pulling him from the grip of whatever horrors his mind conjures without causing him more harm.

Though tonight, you must’ve been drained. You didn’t notice the moment the nightmare began.

“Honey? Oh, fuck. Wake up, c’mon.” His voice pulls you from the depths of sleep, and when your eyes flutter open and adjust to the dim light, the first thing you see is Logan, sitting rigid, staring at your arm as though it’s breaking him apart. The pain in his gaze is nearly palpable.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice groggy as you sit up, still partly disoriented. “Logan, are you okay?”

Then you see it: Blood. Dark stains seeping into the sheets, trailing from a jagged cut running the length of your forearm. It isn’t deep, and oddly, it doesn’t even hurt that much. But Logan looks stricken, his eyes flickering between your wound and his own hands.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt,” you assure him as you fumble to grab the ruined sheets, bundling them up to contain the mess. Reaching for the lamp on the nightstand, you switch it on, bathing the room in a golden glow. That’s when you notice the droplets of blood on his knuckles, the torn skin where his claws must have pierced through. This has never happened before. Neither of you know what to say or how to react. When you reach for his hand, he recoils, shaking his head like he’s trying to will the scene away. “Hey, don’t do that.”

“I knew it’d happen eventually.” He’s spiraling, rising to his feet. A man trying to escape himself. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on his chest and back, his body tense with the effort of holding his pieces together. Turning to face you, his expression is the embodiment of torment. In his eyes, it’s as though the prophecy has been confirmed, irrevocably, by his own doing. “I hurt you. I told you it was going to happen.”

“Why are you acting like this?” you ask, pushing yourself off the bed to meet him. You’re tired, too tired to be arguing like this. “It won’t happen again.”

“How can you be so sure? You said the same thing before, and now look. Look at where we are.”

You’re at a loss for how to calm him. The exhaustion weighing on you makes your thoughts sluggish, and you’re afraid of saying something you’ll regret. But giving up isn’t an option—not with him, not because of this. Slowly, you step back and spin in place, letting him see you fully, the wound and all.

“You see? I’m fine,” you insist. “I’m not hurt. Please, Logan, believe me when I say I’m okay.”

He doesn’t respond, but the uncertainty etched into his face lingers. For a moment, you think you’ve reassured him, as he lets you guide him back to the bed. Together, you pull the sheets up to cover your bodies, and he leans into the pillows with a weary sigh. He mutters something about being sweaty, so you don’t rest your head on his chest as usual, settling into the curve of his shoulder instead. The rhythm of his breathing, uneven at first, begins to steady.

At some point, the warmth of his body disappears. You stir faintly, but your mind is too clouded by sleep to register it as anything more than the remnants of a rather vivid dream.

Logan remains standing, staring at Charles, refusing the invitation to sit down. “You told Jean,” he says, and the other man doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even attempt to deny it. “I asked you to keep it between us.”

“I thought she might help you reconsider,” Charles answers, looking more serious than usual, his piercing eyes fixed on Logan. “Logan, I still don’t believe this is the right path for you. It’s not the solution to your problems. You can’t run from her, from this—relying on forgetting won’t bring you peace.”

Who really knows what’s best for him? Logan certainly doesn’t. After all these decades of walking the earth, what has he truly learned? His long life feels like a cruel irony, offering time without clarity. What use is immortality when you’re paralyzed by indecision, unsure of what you truly want?

“I can’t leave her. At least, not willingly,” he explains, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the arm of a chair, the gesture lacking finesse. “She’ll get over it. She’s stronger than she thinks.”

“You’re deciding for her.”

To that, Logan has no reply. He only looks away.

“When I got here, you told me you’d help with whatever I needed.” Logan crosses the room, lowering himself into a chair by Charles’ desk, his posture stiff. He lifts his chin slightly, trying to convey a confidence he doesn’t actually feel. “This is what I need you to do. Today.”

“Let’s start with your most recent memories and work backward from there.” Charles rolls himself closer, his chair nearly brushing Logan’s legs. “There’s an emotional core to every memory, and when you eradicate that core, it begins to degrade. By the time I’m done, those memories will have withered, as in a dream upon waking.”

Logan’s throat tightens at the description. There’s no comfort in Charles’ words. It doesn’t sound like a dream. It sounds like a nightmare.

“Do you want to proceed?”

“Yes.” Logan’s reply is immediate, though it scrapes his throat like gravel.

Charles nods once, solemnly. “Then tell me your most recent memory of her.”

I think I was preparing a class when she burst through the door, uninvited. I’d been trying to keep my distance from her, because of... well, all of this. But it wasn’t easy. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her to leave, so I let her stay. She came up behind me, wrapped her arms around me, and asked if I had much left to do. I told her everything else could wait. Big mistake.

We were lying on my bed. Somehow, we always ended up there, tangled together. It wasn’t strictly... sexual. There’s something profoundly vulnerable about sharing that space. Snuggling, you could call it. Now that I think about it, she likes resting her head on my chest. Says it’s the best way to hear my heartbeat and find out if it matches hers.

“Focus, Logan.”

Yeah, I know. You’re right. Anyway, she asked me if I believed in soulmates, and I laughed. Obviously, she thought I was mocking her, so I had to convince her I wasn’t. I just thought the question was funny.

“Why did you laugh?”

Because it was exactly the kind of question she’d ask. She hadn’t before, but I’d been waiting for it. She told me she thought soulmates existed, and that I was hers. And I laughed again, and she threatened to leave. I held her tighter.

I told her I didn’t know if soulmates were real. I didn’t have that kind of certainty. What I did know, I said, was that I loved her. That was the only thing I was sure of. Soulmates or no soulmates, I loved her. I was right where I wanted to be. Those were my exact words.

“When did this happen?”

Yesterday. Before she left with Ororo and Scott for their mission. That’s why I’m choosing to do this now.

“I’m afraid I have to ask you again. Are you absolutely certain you want me to do this?”

Yes, Charles. Please, don’t ask me again.

Throwing open the mansion’s entry door, you let it swing wide as you step inside. You could use a shower, but right now, all you care about is finding him. Where is he?

Before starting your search, a cluster of students rushes toward you, their arms wrapping around your waist. Their laughter fills your senses as they chatter excitedly, hugging you tightly. “We missed you!” A boy exclaims, and you can’t help but smile, ruffling his hair.

“Have you seen Professor Logan?” you ask, crouching to meet the eye of one of the younger girls.

She grins, her innocent smile spreading, and she points toward the kitchen. “He’s in there.”

You thank her and make your way to the kitchen, your heart beating a little faster. You find him standing by the counter, slicing bread. His movements are methodical, his posture calm, but something feels off. You pause in the doorway, scrutinizing his face for a sign, any sign, that he’s happy to see you.

But his gaze flicks to you for only a brief moment, cool and detached, before returning to his task.

“Hey,” you call softly, tilting your head. His shoulders tense, and he doesn’t stop cutting. “I’m back,” you add, stepping closer, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment.

It takes him a few seconds to respond, and when he does, his voice sounds flat. “I see.” He opens a drawer, pulling out a fork. “Good for you, I guess.”

The words hit you like a slap. A joke, surely. But why? You take a hesitant step forward, your brows furrowing. “Logan, why—”

Before you can finish, a hand grabs yours, yanking you out of the kitchen. Startled, you turn to see Jean, her expression pale and stricken.

“Jean?” you ask, confused. “Is this another one of Logan’s pranks?”

Her lips twitch, and tears glisten in her eyes when she swallows thickly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I tried to stop him. I really did. But he—he wouldn’t listen!” Her hands tighten around yours, quivering. You’ve never seen her like this before.

“Wait—slow down,” you urge, your stomach twisting.

“I swear, I tried to talk him out of it,” she pleads, each of the words she utters rushing out like a flood. “You know how stubborn he can get.”

It doesn’t take too long for her panic to feel contagious. The pit in your abdomen deepens as you glance back toward the kitchen, where Logan stands just out of sight.

Something is wrong—terribly wrong.

“Jean, what did he do?”

Despite all his wisdom, Charles had known this moment would come the second he agreed to help Logan.

The door to his office flies open, slamming against the wall with a force that reverberates through the room. You storm in, your strides long and charged with anger, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Madness blazes in your eyes. “You did what?!”

“My dear—”

“You erased me from my boyfriend’s memory!” The words erupt from you, shaking the very air. You fling your arms wide, your fury spilling over. Before he can respond, you turn on his bookshelf, yanking ancient, cherished volumes from their resting places. One by one, you ignite them, flames devouring their fragile pages in an instant.

Then, there’s a momentary pause—a flicker of silence before you seize another book. This one you hurl in his direction, not quite at his face, but close enough to graze the air near his shoulder before it hits the floor with a heavy thud. The sound echoes, a physical punctuation to your rage.

“You made me disappear! He doesn’t fucking know who I am!”

His expression, pained and weary, holds no exasperation—only regret. “He asked me to do it.”

“What kind of an answer is that?” The question hangs underlined by the tears that stream down your face. Your voice breaks, the pain behind it cutting deeper than any accusation. “You could’ve said no, Charles. How many times have you denied me things?”

“You didn’t see him in the way I did, he was—” He stops himself, faltering. No words can repair what he has already destroyed. “I’m sorry.”

You stand there, breathing hard, the space between you filled with smoldering ash and a silence so loud it feels suffocating. The remains of his books lie scattered, the faint scent of burnt paper lingering in the air. Charles watches you, but he doesn’t move to stop you. He doesn’t fight you.

The fury ebbs, leaving behind a hollow ache that takes its place in your chest. “If you’re so willing to erase love like it’s nothing, then do it for me, too.”

Charles’s brows knit together. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I? Logan doesn’t remember me. I walk into a room, and he looks right through me. Like I’m a stranger, like I never mattered. So tell me, what’s the point in remembering him if he’s already forgotten me?”

“I don’t believe forgetting will give you the peace you’re looking for.”

“Is that what you told him as well? Clearly, it worked out well.”

Touché.

“I’ve already hurt you enough,” he whispers.

“And you’ll keep hurting me if you don’t do this. I can’t carry this alone.” You kneel in front of him, clutching the edge of his wheelchair. “If you could take it away from him, you can take it away from me, too.”

Charles stares down at you, his mouth tightening, as if the weight of your words presses down on him. His hands, usually so steady, shift uncomfortably in his lap. It’s clear he can’t believe this is the second time he’s found himself in this situation, faced with the same desperate request. “Are you sure?”

You nod your head. “He wanted to forget me. Now, I want to forget him.”

He exhales slowly, the sound heavy with resignation. “All right,” he says softly, though his voice carries a sadness he doesn’t try to hide. “But I need you to understand… once it’s done, there’s no going back.”

“That’s the point.” You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand, as though erasing the tears could also erase the doubt creeping in.

“Then sit,” he counters, motioning to the chair Logan sat in days ago.

You hesitate for a moment, the finality of the act looming large. Slowly, you lower yourself into the chair, gripping its arms with all your earnest. Charles wheels himself closer, and the reality of what’s about to happen sets in.

“Tell me your last memory of him,” he says gently, his voice barely above a whisper.

You close your eyes, and the image surfaces instantly: Logan, holding you close, whispering that he loves you. No soulmates, no destiny—just love. You let out a shaky breath, your heart breaking all over again as you begin to recount it. “The last time he looked at me like I was his whole world.”

Charles nods, his expression unreadable, placing his hands on your temples. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I had to leave the next day, so I wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. My things were already packed. I walked into Logan’s room and asked him if he was busy. A week isn’t a lot, but ever since he moved here, we hadn’t been apart from each other. I was anxious about that. I thought it’d be so hard to fall asleep without him at night. What—oh, God, what’ll happen now?

“I need you to keep going, darling.”

Don’t call me that.

“Alright. I’m sorry.”

I convinced him to lie in bed with me. I had my head on his chest, and he kissed my forehead. His beard scratched me in the right way. It never hurt or bothered me. I had once dated a guy who had a beard, and it was just so uncomfortable. But that wasn’t Logan’s case. He would kiss me and hug me, and it felt like the best thing in the world.

There was a question I’d been meaning to ask him. It was about soulmates, and the existence of them. I thought Logan was my soulmate, and I said it to him. I asked if he believed in them, but he laughed. He told me he wasn’t making fun of me or anything, just that he thought the question was funny.

Logan said he didn’t know whether soulmates existed or not, but he knew for a fact that he loved me. He didn’t care about anything else. He loved me. He really did. Do you think he loved me, Charles?

“Yes. I do believe so.”

Then why did you take that away from me?

“I’m sorry.”

I hate you.

“I know.”

Your head pounds, an ache that feels like it’s splitting you in two. It’s a pain unlike anything you’ve ever known. Your vision blurs, forcing you to blink repeatedly until the world around you sharpens into focus.

Four blank walls. The stark, colorless void offers nothing but the oppressive weight of emptiness. This must be your mind, stripped bare. Somewhere in the depths of this space, Charles is at work, pulling threads and unraveling every memory of Logan.

You push yourself off the cold floor. A soundless shift disturbs the space—a door appears out of nowhere, its frame faintly glowing, and without hesitation, you reach for the handle and swing it open.

On the other side is a fragment of your past: that night months ago, sitting in the living room, watching a movie. Logan had decided to join you. The memory pulls you in, and suddenly, you’re no longer standing—you’re on the couch. Your clothes have altered to match that night. Logan sits beside you, the warmth of his presence impossibly real.

This moment feels untouched by time, but deep down, you know the truth. Charles is erasing it even as you relive it. Soon, this too will vanish.

The scene begins to warp. It’s no longer the movie on the screen. The couple has been replaced by you and Logan. You’re watching yourselves from a third perspective, your bodies framed by the flickering light of the TV. It’s deeply unsettling, but in this fragmented state of consciousness, it doesn’t feel worth questioning.

“Logan?”

“Tell me.”

You grab a cushion and smack him on the arm, the motion instinctive. “You idiot!”

“What was that for?” he asks, laughing as he takes the cushion from your hands, tossing it aside. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You erased me from your memory!” you accuse him, even as you know the futility of it. He’s merely a fragment, a faint echo of who he once was to you. A lingering shard of memory caught in the tangled wires of your brain, sparking as it teeters on the edge of a short circuit. “You’re not even real, are you?”

“No,” he admits, his voice tinged with something like regret. “I’m just in your mind. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. You’re just what’s left.” You lower your gaze, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “How long do you think it’ll take Charles to erase you?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. The words you long for, the closure you might crave, are swallowed up. His lips vanish mid-formulation, and then you’re staring at a blank void where his mouth used to be. The rest of his features begins to fade—his eyes dissolve into nothingness, followed by his nose, his brows, the lines of his face. All that’s left is the space where he once sat, and even that feels tenuous.

You’re on your own now. The memory of him—of that night, the first time you truly shared an intimate moment—has been swept away like smoke in the wind. You collapse onto the floor, trembling as sobs tear through you, your hands pressed tightly against your face, attempting to contain your anguish. “I don’t want to forget you,” you choke out between hiccupped breaths, the sting of tears burning your eyes. “I never asked for any of this.”

“I know,” a familiar voice murmurs behind you, and there he is—Logan. This time, he’s wearing his suit. His claws are unsheathed, gleaming. “I shouldn’t have done it first. I don’t know what I was thinking’.”

You push yourself to your feet, drawn to him. When you move to hug him, he takes a step back, raising his claws as if to protect you from getting harmed. “I can’t retract them. If I hug you, I’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” you whisper, pressing forward and slotting yourself between his arms, ignoring the danger. Your face finds its habitual place against his chest, and you inhale deeply, inhaling his scent. “I just want you.”

His arms fold around you hesitantly, careful yet incomplete. You feel a sharp pain, a searing slice along your ribs that rips a scream from your throat. The agony is blinding, drowning your world into darkness.

When you open your eyes again, you’re somewhere else entirely. The bed feels soft beneath you, the sheets tangled around your legs. Logan is there beside you, his body warm against yours, both of you naked under the sheets.

“You’re lost in thought,” he says, his voice tender, taking a strand of your hair, twisting it gently before tucking it behind your ear. “You alright?”

His face won’t stay still. Beard, no beard. A moustache that fades as quickly as it appears. Hair long, then short. Sideburns one moment, smooth skin the next. He’s a shifting mosaic of himself. You realize you can’t remember what he looked like the last time you saw him.

“I’m forgetting you.” Your fingertips trace the curve of his cheek, memorizing each detail. “I don’t think I can stop it now.”

He’s seconds away from crying, his lips finding yours in a kiss that feels both desperate and resigned. “Stay here with me,” he whispers against your mouth, his hands sliding over your arms, your stomach, your legs. “Don’t let me go.”

“You did it to me first,” you say, voice thick with emotion, pulling him closer, down until his body presses fully against yours. His weight feels real, but you know it’s not. Nothing about this moment is.

His voice breaks, repeating the same mantra. “Stay here with me. Don’t let me go.”

The touches multiply. It’s no longer just his hands on your skin. It’s as if the entire universe is reaching for you. The cacophony of touches, the overlapping voices—“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”—swirls into a suffocating chaos.

Logan begins to blur, like a photograph left too long in the sun. His face fades first, then his body, until all that remains is a ghost of his shadow. Then even that is gone. The bed disappears beneath you, leaving you adrift in an empty expanse. You can’t tell if you’re still there, or if you’ve vanished with him.

You exhale slowly. Silence, at last.

The second first time you see him, he’s sitting alone outside on a weathered bench, his shoulders slightly hunched. He’s completely alone, and you pause a few steps away, studying him for a moment. He doesn’t seem like someone you would’ve missed at the mansion. Charles mentioned he’d recently joined the team, a mutant who had spent too long wandering the earth.

You clear your throat, trying not to overthink it. “Mind if I take a seat?” you ask, your hands clasped behind your back as you wait for his reply.

He shifts to one end of the bench, leaving you more than enough room, though his movements seem cautious. You sit down, exhaling softly as an awkward silence stretches between you. His demeanor isn’t exactly inviting, and you wonder how to bridge the gap.

After a moment, you stretch out your hand, offering a polite smile, giving him your name. He glances at your hand, then takes it. “M’Logan,” he says simply, though you already knew that from your previous talk with Charles. His fingers are rough, calloused, yet they linger a beat longer than necessary before letting go. “The other day, I was in the kitchen, and you walked in. You were acting… strange.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Really?” Your gaze flickers between his face and your hand that still feels warm from his touch. “I don’t remember that. Are you sure it was me?”

Logan hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “I thought so… but maybe not.” His lips press into a thin line, shrugging. “Never mind. I could be wrong.”

Tilting your head, you study him. There’s something familiar that you can’t quite place. “Have we met before? Outside this place, I mean. It’s just… I feel like I know you. Like I’ve seen you somewhere, but I can’t figure out where.”

His eyes meet yours then, like your question has triggered something dormant. He leans back slightly, his posture relaxing as he lets out a low chuckle. “Funny you’d say that. I wasn’t planning on bringing it up, but… I got the same feeling.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all.” His lips quirk into a smile, one that matches yours.

Inside the mansion, Charles and Jean watch the scene through the window. Jean folds her arms across her chest, her expression caught between awe and disbelief. “This is crazy,” she murmurs, shaking her head.

“Don’t get me started,” Charles replies.

“They don’t know what happened, but they still feel it. Like they’re connected.” She peers down at Charles, her voice quieter now. “You erased everything, didn’t you? Every memory, every trace.”

Charles keeps his eyes on the scene outside, his features softening as he watches the two of you talk. He sighs, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “You’re asking me for an explanation I don’t have. I guess some things… refuse to be forgotten.”

Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.

Friedrich Nietzsche.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

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writingsbychlo · 3 months ago

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SPOILT AND CHERISHED | DRACO MALFOY

SUMMARY: draco malfoy has a tendency to buy his way into people's hearts, and you want him to know that it's not necessary. WORD COUNT: 1582 NOTES: specially to match up with my girl @prythiansprincess because we both know just how much draco loves to use his money as foreplay.

Draco was stressed, you could tell from the persistent tapping of his fingers against his thigh, and the twisting of his signet ring around his middle finger, and it amused you to no end. Slipping your hand into his own, he redirected his attention to you, a smile forming on his lips to hide the frown he’d been wearing, and he leaned closer to press a kiss into your hair.

Perhaps you should put him out of his misery, but this was a lesson, and one that he had to learn. It was a mentality you’d been chipping away at with him since the day you’d met, long before you’d even started dating, and that was one simple thing: Draco Malfoy did not need to buy love, he was worthy of it without any money at all.

He’d already more than spoiled you this Valentine’s Day, between the surprise weekend trip to London he’d paid for, and the beautiful customised luggage bags he’d presented you with to pack for the trip, it was enough. Yesterday morning, you’d woken up surrounded by enough presents to almost conceal the silk sheets, and his promises about the day ahead. On your joint hands, the promise ring he’d bought you to replace last year’s bumped against his.

And now, seemingly out of presents to push into your hands, Draco had decided that it wasn’t enough and he needed to treat you to a shopping trip along the London high streets. The problem was that you refused to indulge this behaviour, to let him think this was how he needed to maintain your affection.

Bringing up your clasped hands, you pressed a kiss to each of his knuckles. “Isn’t this nice, Dray?”

“Yeah, nice…” He mumbled, wrapping your joined hands around you tighter and pulling you into his body. “Do you want to go in here?”

Glancing up at the jewellery shop before you, your eyes skimmed across the displays of glittering diamonds in the window, making sure not to linger on anything in particular, knowing his gaze was on you. Finally, you hummed, shaking your head. “No, I think I’m good. You already got me a lovely necklace this morning.”

He sighed roughly, dragging his free hand through his hair. “Yes, but that was just a piece I pulled from the Vault, I didn’t buy it. I should’ve bought you something new, something more special!”

His voice hit a new high, and you took pity on him somewhat, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I tell you what, though, I am getting a bit peckish with all this walking. How about we find a little coffee shop somewhere?”

He brightened at that, even just marginally, and nodded his head. Stealing a kiss from your lips, he once again began to guide you along the bustling streets, until you came across a quaint-looking café and stepped inside. The smell of roasted coffee beans and sugary pastries filled your nose, and you spotted a table in the far corner. “Do you want to go and sit down? I can order, and—”

“No, love. I’ll order, go and get comfy.”

“Just a coffee and a muffin, okay?” You watched his gaze flicker over the display cabinets, and he hummed noncommittally as he sent you on your way. Making your way through the crowded room, you secured your seat in the back corner by the window, sunlight filtering through across the wood of the table. Tucking your bag into your side, and shucking off your coat, you were just getting settled when Draco made his reappearance.

He placed down a steaming mug in front of you, and one in the spare seat designed for him, alongside a paper bag holding what was definitely more than just the one muffin. Taking it from him and opening the top, you raised a brow at him, and he fixed you with an innocent look as he blew the steam off of his latte. “What? You didn’t say which one you wanted, and I didn’t want to guess.”

“You know what my favourite is.”

“At Puddifoots, sure. Not here, I thought maybe you’d want something new.” He smirked, like he’d won a Quidditch match, and you plucked out his favourite and offered it to him. A lemon muffin, one he accepted happily, peeling back the wrapper as you selected a chocolate one. “Are you having a good day?”

“Yes, of course I am.” You smiled, “And I’m having a lovely weekend too.”

“Are you sure? Because if there’s something else you’d rather—”

“Draco.” You quieted him, taking his hand across the table and encouraging him to put down his drink so you could hold the other too. Squeezing his hands in yours, you hoped he could read the earnestness on your face and trust in it. “I am happy, wherever we are, just because I’m with you. I need you to understand that. It doesn’t matter how much you spend on an activity, or whether we spend all weekend sitting in your dorm back at Hogwarts, I’m happy just because we’re together.”

His throat bobbed, and he shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable as his hands twitched in your own. “I know, love, but I still want to treat you.”

“But I don’t think you do know, Draco. Listen to me, I don’t want you to buy me lavish presents like this, or feel like you have to spend your fortune on emeralds and diamonds for me.”

“So you don’t like your gifts?” He pressed, and your shoulders slumped. “I loved my presents, Draco. They’re gorgeous, and I love being here in London, you know how much I love it here. You did everything right, baby. But I just need you to understand that it isn’t the gifts or the trips or the money that make me want to be with you, and I want you to stop worrying and just enjoy the day. Enjoy being with me, like I enjoy being with you. I love you because you’re Draco, not because you’re Draco Malfoy.”

He blinked at you, several times in confusion as he processed, before a shaky breath left his lips. “I know. I get it, and I understand. But it’s just…” His words trickled out, frustration lacing his tone, and he took a deep swig of his coffee, wincing as he swallowed the hot liquid. “I want to look after you. I rely on you to even function. I love you so much it hurts, and I know if you left me I’d fall apart. I need you to need me like that too. I need you to rely on me, to want me, and you don’t, because you’re so strong and wonderful. But if I can’t… if I can’t even spoil you on special days, what else do I have to give?”

“Yourself.” Your words rushed out, “Draco, I need you like that too. You’re the only person I want to see when I’ve had a hard day, you’re the only person who can comfort me when I’m upset, and you’re the only person who I want to be with all day every day because you make me feel calm and safe, and happy.”

“But I like to buy things for you, too.”

“And you still can, Godric knows you’ve got the money for it, Dray.” At that, at least a small smirk took over the sad frown on his face. “If it makes you feel any better, you can buy me more of my essentials. I’ve been needing a new lipstick. I’m not saying stop buying things for me, Draco. You like gift giving and I like getting gifts.”

Leaning in a little closer, Draco followed suit, his nose bumping yours across the table. Dropping your voice down to speak again, you made sure it was just a whisper between the two of you;

“And, you know what, Dray?”

“What?” He murmured, eyes slipping closed as he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I’m pretty sure spoiling me turns you on.”

“Oh, it does.” He breathed out, sealing the words with a kiss to your lips this time. He tasted like coffee and the sour sugary lemon of his cupcake. “Getting to spend my money on you, seeing you wearing the clothes and diamonds and pretty things I buy you, I love it.”

He sinks back into his seat as you watch, a matching blush on both of your cheeks and a warmth in your eyes that would carry the two of you through the rest of your day and back to your hotel room later tonight. “Good. But stop stressing over whether it’s enough. Spoil me for the sake of it, don’t spoil me to buy my affections, because you already have them. When you buy me something, just let it be a gift, okay?”

Somewhat reluctantly, he nodded, his fingers tapping an irritated rhythm on the top of the table before his palm at last fell flat. “Okay.”

“I love you, Draco.”

He smiled at that, the pink on his cheeks deepening. “I love you too, mon amour. Now, will you please let me spoil you some more when we leave here?”

“Sure, as long as you know they’re just empty gifts.”

He rolled his eyes, but grinned. “I saw a shop a few streets back that would really be a gift to both of us if you’d wear it later…”

“Now you’re talking.”

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy/reader #draco malfoy/you #draco malfoy #slytherin boys

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rinskazuu · 7 months ago

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love me like you do ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

synopsis. ꨄ︎ hsr characters and their voice lines about you as their lover!

characters: ꨄ︎ gn!reader x gepard, sunday (written at the time of 2.5), dr ratio, acheron, black swan, aventurine, jing yuan (separately)

cw: ꨄ︎ established relationship, use of they/them pronouns, use of pet names (beloved, darling, love), implied that reader has the same/relative lifespan as jing yuan, FLUFF :D

notes: ꨄ︎ continuation (more like a spin off) of my genshin lover voice lines lol (it has god awful writing and punctuation. proceed with caution). warning: i accidentally (it really was an accident) turned them into d1 yappers, mb y'all.

GEPARD

about: [name]

“so, you’ve sought me out during my busy schedule to talk about [name]…? i will indulge you just this once, considering they are my lover. what is it that you want to know? ah, before you begin, i must remind you that although you and i are good friends, i won’t tolerate anyone trying to take them from me. otherwise, i will have to resort to methods i wouldn’t normally use.”

chat: family

“you’ve heard of my close relationship with my sisters? yes, i hold them in my heart dearly. the only downside of our relationships is that they tend to nag me about [name] a lot. lynx is always trying to steal them from me under the pretext of help for her next adventure, but i know she loves them almost as much as i do. serval, being the true older sister she is, always scolds me for not taking better care of [name]. i understand her perspective but my schedule is draining, even for me.”

chat: art

“ahem, i would prefer if you didn’t bring up my skills in art, or lack thereof. please, enough with the teasing. you remind me of [name] when they first saw my so-called wanted posters. as i recall, they keeled over, arms clutching their stomach from laughter. i’ve never suffered a bout of embarrassment as bad before. so you’ve seen them too…? please spare me the humiliation.”

chat: flowers

“lynx’s dangerous journeys in the cold can also result in wondrous things, such as the flowers she brings home for serval and i to grow. i admit growing these things are difficult to say the least but i do do my best to raise them until they’re ready to be sent off—to [name] more specifically. i just can’t figure out how to get them to not wither. trailblazer, do you have any experience growing plants?”

chat: duties

“i do rather enjoy my job as the captain of the silvermane guards. i cherish and honor the responsibility, however, the hours are brutal. my constant thoughts all revolve around [name]. thinking about them, but not being able to be in their presence, feeling their touch, or just as simple as seeing them is torture in itself. nonetheless, the citizens of belobog need me—more importantly, [name] needs the protections i offer, and for that, i will pay the price diligently.”

♡

SUNDAY

about: [name]

"most handsome man in penacony? yes, i've heard that before. i'm flattered, but everybody in this universe should know my heart is already taken. you're surprised i have a lover, why is that? as you've said, i am the most handsome on this planet."

chat: jealousy

"jealous? what nonsense has gotten into you? is it that gambler or perhaps his accomplice, the doctor? i should not be surprised they display such impertinence, seeing as that gambler always tests his luck. the doctor should recheck his qualifications and his ego at that. wanting things they could never get. such foolishness i cannot comprehend. are you interested in [name], too? i won't hesitate to oppose you, regardless of our friendship."

chat: power

"the power i hold comes with such responsibility, naturally. i shouldn't be deceitful; i enjoy being in a position of authority. but then again, who doesn't? the only downside is my constant worry for [name] and robin's safety. should a day come where either or both are in harm's way, i will not resist in acting on my power. i have high hopes that the people of penacony should not resort to violence against my beloved nor my dear sister."

chat: dreams

"it shouldn't come as a surprise that the dreamscape is nothing new to me, seeing as i hold the responsibility of the safety and entertainment of many in my hands. oh, did you not mean the dreamscape? hmm... my dreams often carry beautiful memories of my beloved. [name] appears equally as comforting as they do in the realm of reality. all entities and beings cease to exist when i am within their presence."

chat: problems

"is something troubling you? inner demons... yes, i'm rather familiar with them. such a world without personal problems is so close, yet so far out of reach. if it is advice you seek, i suggest maybe confiding in a close friend or better yet a lover. sometimes it feels as if my very being is precarious, within the bounds of falling apart, but all is well when [name] is with me. they soothe my demons, hushing them as if they were never there to begin with. i am subjected to this... forlornly feeling whenever they aren't near."

♡

DR RATIO

about: [name]

"you speak in high regard of my lover i see. as expected; [name] has that effect. one where they attract all kinds of people, that of which unfortunately includes those who are reduced to stupidity. why are you surprised my beloved is someone like me? are you implying i would ever associate myself with an idiot? here i thought you were aware of my character. no matter, i'll let it slide because you are not prone to foolishness. should you make another mistake, i'm afraid i'll have to distance myself..."

chat: intelligence

"what makes a genius versus an idiot, i often find myself pondering. it certainly isn't the knowledge you gain because then again, an idiot cannot comprehend idiocy but can acknowledge the subject of math. it is the unlimited creativity in oneself and their intellectual ability. a prime example of brilliance is none other than my lover, [name]. their originality and innovation is something to admire, truly."

chat: free time

"solving equations with my lover is something i cherish. their tenacious behavior certainly puts up a challenge for me and i would ask for no other way to spend my time. books and bathtubs suffice as well, i suppose."

chat: nuisance

"to think i was enjoying my time when you just had to bring up the gambler. that nefarious man knows no bounds. i was very well aware of the way he was eyeing [name]. as if that man can even make sense of their beautiful being and mind. i've had enough. if you could make your exit, i would be the utmost grateful."

chat: bonds

"i find it rather difficult to... connect with others because there is no shortage of stupid people in this world. if i were to pick, i'd spend the rest of my time with [name] but that's already a given. i suppose you'd make a decent second option. blushing? hmph. be serious, that act is not even in my vocabulary."

♡

ACHERON

about: [name]

"on my journey throughout the cosmos, my encounters with others were never necessarily nuisances. rather, they were precious. but just like all moments in life, they are only a distant past; too far out of reach, too far out of my mind. the same cannot be said about [name]. for every minute i spend with them, i will fight to remember what it is i truly cherish in this world."

chat: memories

"it is true that my memories fade, much like the rain; very visible in the moment, but as days pass it will unite on the ground, vanishing before it is forgotten. however, the importance of rain is akin to my feelings toward my lover. it may one day be a mere bygone, but the feeling will never wane."

weather: rain

"like all little things in life, [name] finds it all fascinating. i cannot share their enthusiasm, but i do share a bit of their contentment when it comes to the weather. as the skies darken, it can form a shroud of fear toward one, yet comfort for another. the little droplets creating rivulets of water on the ground. so insignificant, yet so beautiful, the latter a lot like my lover."

chat: company

"no matter the reason, all travelers in this world are alike, their own purposes driving them to each and every corner of this cosmos. i am glad i do not have to suffer my fate alone, for it is not entirely filled with hardships. [name] is not just my lover, but my companion and it fills me with joy beyond my understanding that they will withstand any storm by my side."

weather: lightning

"a bold and bright strike in the sky, severing it ever so slightly. it is beautiful and brief, yet so powerful. i like to think the fondness i show [name] is much like lightning. i believe actions hold a larger importance than conversation, but for my lover, my words are endless."

♡

BLACK SWAN

about: [name]

"is it without a doubt my most radiant memories are with none other than my love. so, you've met [name]. by your expression, i take it that they are just as dazzling as i'm proposing. would you humbly allow me to capture your memories with them? i can assure you it's all in good's name; after all, i must oblige by my lover's safety. i wish you could see your appearance. i apologize for the scare, it's all meant to be humorous."

chat: memories

"as a memokeeper, it shouldn't be a surprise that i enter many minds. some minds are putrid; the memories i see are only vile acts of selfishness or egocentrism. others are broken, hard to explore and understand. there are minds which contain honorable deeds and acts of heroism, such as yourself. [name], however, their mind is brilliant. i could exhaust you for the rest of time just by simply sharing what i've learned from my lover, but the term brilliant should suffice. hmm? well, of course. i only entered their mind with their authorization."

chat: time well spent

"memories are integrated in my very being. even this body is merely a vessel only to serve my purpose. one day, the inevitable will come and we will all cease to exist. perhaps on the path there i will outlive my lover. in other rare cases, they may live on without me. memories are eternal and we shall all live on in the reminder of what once was."

chat: fate

"do you believe in fate, trailblazer? it is one of, if not the only, inescapable pieces of this world. what is to come is predestined. it is within my comprehension that [name] and i were bound to happen. the lights of destiny shine at me once again."

chat: time

"like the past and present, the future will hold many resplendent tales. i look forward to the stories [name] and i will share. whether it inspires a romantic and grand story or a simple poem, i will continue to dance with them until the stars begin to grow dimmer and dimmer."

♡

AVENTURINE

about: [name]

"my interactions are always based on transactions, but there's more to [name] than what meets the eye. i admit, our relationship started as a one time self-indulgent on my part, but as usual, i only invest in deals that pay off. don't bother trying to steal my darling. i mean, if you wish to do so, you can try, but remember i'm the lucky one here."

chat: luck

"i've never doubted my luck. it's as simple as it sounds—everything requires strategies and planning, even if it boils down to fate and luck, and who am i if i'm not lucky? my most treasured possession is none other than my beloved, of course. no game or bet could satiate my desires as they do."

chat: chips and gambles

"each chip has a different value, as does a person. the highest chip of profit are those who are beneficial. again, everything requires planning, but sometimes i like to revel in making a simple wager. you are easily a valuable chip, hence our cordial relationship. naturally, there are worthless ones and then there are priceless, one-in-a-million ones. my darling effortlessly tops the list."

chat: schemes

"you call it a scheme, i like to call it a master plan. with my bets, chips, my pawns in one place, and fate smiling upon me, it's hard not to win. it's as i say; the best plan is the smartest plan. how else do you think i have my lovely [name] by my side?"

chat: wins and losses

"my greatest loss was one you've heard before. i have no interest in repeating it, but i'm sure you remember what happened to my home planet. as for my wins? i've got plenty. you seem indifferent to hearing them, so i'll give you an easy answer: [name]. my greatest treasure and win is my lover. why are you surprised? high rewards always follow high risks, and they are no exception."

♡

JING YUAN

about: [name]

"the xianzhou species and natives, as you know, have longer life spans. the things we see from our day to day life often begins to blur. rather, more accurately, it begins to mesh with the background. it becomes, dare i say, mundane and dull. however, it amazes me how i still love life with [name] as my lifelong companion. my lover, who's been with me for centuries, makes my days and nights much more livelier."

chat: bonds

"yanqing is my disciple and subordinate. at his young age, he shows many promising features and skills. it is a shame that although he may be an excellent swordsman and lieutenant, his behavior often reminds me that he still a child. what warms my heart is his attachment and endearment to [name]. with my duties, i am often in the seat of divine foresight, so i cannot entertain either of them when i mostly yearn for it. i am filled with glee knowing [name] is there to care for him, and likewise."

chat: a day of work

"it is without a doubt that my work is utterly boring. it is not to say i don't love my home planet, but the work i do on a normal day to day basis is... tedious. early mornings transition into the peak of the day where it then drags into the long, wee hours of the night. thankfully, i have my beloved, [name], to amuse me. sometimes, they'll sneak off in the middle of work just to come see me, which delights me to no end. i'm fortunate to be able to see their lovely face first thing in the morning."

chat: worry

"i, as one of the arbiter-generals, have a lot to worry about regarding the luofu and the planet as a whole. there is chaos to be dispelled, questions to be answered, and a seemingly endless amount of help to be distributed. hmm? you were asking about my personal worries. well, there was a time where i was just a cloud knight, coming home when the sun was long gone with bruises etched into my skin and blood littering my armor. my greatest worry is having to see the fearful look on [name]'s face again, frightened for my safety."

chat: associations

"long gone with the wind were my old comrades and friends. like the sun sets, it's natural for more winds to blow my way. come new adventures, i will pursue new companions. one i will clutch onto for the rest of my days is [name], the most precious of them all. it goes without saying that they are whom i treasure the most, who i seek in my darkest moments, who i confide in my happiest moments with, and who i share my every being with."

end notes: ꨄ︎ i was going to include luocha, but my brain juice ran out. i typically listen to their EN voice lines on youtube (even if i have them) before figuring out what to type to get a better grasp on their canon personality, but uhm luocha was too vague as is. plus, we don't really know much about him (still love him)

#hsr #honkai star rail #gepard landau #gepard x reader #hsr sunday #sunday x reader #dr ratio #veritas ratio #dr ratio x reader #hsr acheron #acheron x reader #black swan hsr #black swan x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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keeryhours · 4 months ago

Text

the emperor’s love - emperor geta

Emperor Geta x Empress! female! reader

Main Masterlist

Emperor Geta Masterlist

Summary:

Being pregnant with his heir has made Geta more in love with you than he ever could have imagined. He shows you just how much he loves you.

Part 1

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, fingering, creampie, pregnancy

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N:

I wasn’t sure if I was going to write for Geta again, but he is actually living in my brain rent free. Another one inspired by my character letters by @miss-bushido, check out her writing and Etsy shop! I did research for this one, but I apologize in advance for historical inaccuracies! This is a part 2 to an heir for an emperor!

—

“I think it’s going to be a boy,” Geta mused, hand roaming over the growing expanse of your stomach. “A strong boy. The future of Rome is in your belly, you know that, Carissima?”

“And what if it’s a girl?” you asked, a giggle on your lips bringing a smile to the Emperor’s own.

“Then she shall take after her mother and be the most beautiful in all of Rome,” he said, hand caressing the skin of your belly. “And I’ll have to give you another.”

“Geta!” You playfully scolded, hand swatting at his as he laughed. “Another so soon?”

“Of course, my love. I need an heir. And to see you, swollen with child again so soon…” he leaned forward, pressing kisses to your neck. “Would be a gift. The gods have truly blessed me.”

You hummed, melting into his touch. You were sprawled together on your huge bed, dressed in your bed clothes for the night. His body curled behind yours, hands roaming your body wherever he pleased. Up and over your breasts, pinching at your nipples before moving back to your stomach; then down between your legs, feeling for the wetness he knew would be waiting for him.

“My love…” he whispered seductively against your ear. “Is there something you want?”

You whined, pressing back against him. He knew what you wanted, and he wanted it too. You could feel him already hard against your backside as he dipped his fingers between your folds. He collected your slick on his fingers and brought them to his lips, sucking them clean, tasting your essence. “Divine,” he remarked. “Somehow, you taste even sweeter.”

He lifted your tunic over your body, baring you to the night and his eyes alone. His hands trailed over your soft skin, so beautiful and flawless in his eyes. Perfection sent to him from the gods themselves.

Geta undid his own robe, revealing his glorious body fully naked, cock hard and standing proud as he gazed down at you. “You are so beautiful, Carissima.” His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he drank in your beauty. “Will you sing for me tonight?”

You giggled, knowing he didn’t exactly mean a ballad. “Perhaps if I feel inspired, my Emperor…”

A wicked smile crossed his face as he leaned over you, kissing up your body until he reached your lips. “Oh, how beautiful a melody I could pull from those lips…let me show you.”

He gently moved you onto your side, careful of your stomach. Geta had treated you like you were made of glass since he discovered your pregnancy. He had been overjoyed, but if you thought he was overprotective before, he became a whole different beast with his beloved wife carrying his potential heir.

He consulted the augurs at the beginning of your pregnancy. Since then he has prayed daily to the goddesses of childbirth; Eileithyia, Hera, Juno. He has left them daily offerings at their temples and shrines to ensure the safe delivery of your child.

You always had an entourage with you with your servant staff, but now you had a guard of Praetorians following your every move, as well. Even servants to taste your food before you could eat. Speaking of your food, Geta suddenly insisted on you receiving the healthiest, finest foods in the Empire. He still allowed you your fig cakes, at least.

The only time you got any peace, any time alone, were these cherished nights in bed with your Emperor. When he dropped his cruel and ruthless persona and became your husband. He would take care of you, massage your belly with oils each night. It was your favorite part of the day.

Once you were comfortably laid on your side, Geta moved back behind you, his body spooning against yours. He brushed your hair back over your shoulder, placing kisses against the skin of your back. “Do you remember our wedding night?”

“How could I forget?” You smiled, the memory rushing back to you. It had been less than a year, but felt like a lifetime.

It had been a beautiful ceremony. Everything you could have dreamed of. Your father had been proud to marry his daughter to an Emperor. The augurs had been consulted by Geta himself to ensure propitious omens and favor from the gods. You wore your beautiful white tunica recta, a gorgeous veil atop your head. There had been a delicious cake, as he had heard of your sweet tooth beforehand.

Afterwards, Geta took you to the bridal lectus, where he took you apart piece by piece until you were nothing but writhing pleasure beneath him.

Geta hummed against your back. “Do you remember how I surprised you in your chambers before the ceremony?”

You blushed. Of course you did. It had been such a surprise to find Geta waiting for you in your chambers, you weren’t even supposed to see him before the ceremony. You had been scared at first, you still hardly knew one another and you had heard plenty of stories, but his plans for you had been more than pleasing.

“I simply had to have a taste of my bride to be,” he continued. “It was all I could think about once I saw you for the first time. It plagued me those three months of our betrothal leading up until our ceremony. It was all I could think of when I was alone. Even just touching your hand to place the ring on your finger…” You felt Geta shiver behind you. “Carissima, I was yours, body and soul.”

He reached down to grasp onto your thigh, lifting it up and over his own leg between yours. You felt his thick tip prodding at your entrance, and you sighed, already so responsive for him.

“You’ve been so sensitive since you have been carrying our child,” he remarked as his fingertips traced slowly over your clit, before dipping down to press inside of you. You gasped loudly - you could feel his smirk against your skin. “I absolutely love it.”

You moaned as he pumped his fingers into you a few more times, but you were so wet you really didn’t need any preparation. He removed his fingers, sucking them clean with a groan, before pressing his tip against your pussy once again.

He didn’t ask before he started sinking inside - the Emperor did not ask for permission. But he knew you would have given it over and over again had he asked. Your head fell back against him as he filled you from behind, holding your leg up high to allow him enough room to get as deeply inside as he liked to be.

He bottomed out quickly and began thrusting in and out of your perfect tight heat, groaning deeply against your neck. His fingertips dug into your thigh as he fucked you like you needed to be fucked. He knew your body better than anyone, even yourself.

“Carissima,” he moaned; a weakness in his voice he would never let anyone else witness. It was raspy, desperate for more of the perfect fit of your pussy. He called your name over and over again in your ear, the title never sounding more sinful than it did in that moment.

“You feel so good,” you whined, your hips bucking back to meet his thrusts, to have him fuck you harder. He didn’t like to take you roughly with you in your current state, not like he used to. You missed it desperately. “Please, my Emperor, take me harder.”

Geta groaned loudly at your words, his composure faltering as his sloppy thrusts stuttered. “My beloved,” he said, his raspy voice pained. “Do not say things such as that. You do not know how hard it is to keep my control.”

“Please,” you begged again, back arching as you felt your release beginning to build. “Please, Geta, please fuck me.”

His grip tightened on your thigh and he groaned again, like you were causing him physical pain. He thought to deny you once again, but his primal instincts took over and he began fucking into you fast and hard. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room, and you were certain between that and the moans you were both emitting, the entire palace could hear your lovemaking.

“Close,” you whined out, eyes falling closed as your orgasm built faster and faster. You could feel your pussy beginning to clench around his cock, and he felt it too, his hips stuttering again as he neared his own imminent release.

“Sing for me,” he encouraged you, laying your thigh on his leg so he could move his hand between your legs. You cried out loudly as he paid delicious attention to your aching clit, and your orgasm hit you, pussy spasming hard around your Emperor’s thick cock.

“That’s it, Carissima, let all of Rome hear how you sing for me!”

Geta gripped back onto your thigh, fucking into you fast and hard with no rhythm until he finally stilled pressed against you, shooting rope after rope of his seed deep inside you as he let out the most divine moans you’d ever heard.

He rode out both of your releases, shallow thrusts until all of his cum had been spent inside of you. He pulled out, laying on his back next to you as his chest heaved with his breaths. He opened an arm for you, and you laid against him.

These moments of bliss were your absolute favorite. These moments of quiet and peace and love between you and your husband. It was rare for an Emperor to find a true love like this. Rare for a woman to be so lucky in her marriage. You reminded yourself of your fortune often.

You reached up, playing with a lock of his ginger hair. He smiled down at you lovingly, the look on his face one of pure adoration. The truth of it was seen in his eyes, to his very soul.

“The child will be here soon,” Geta said, his hand once again splayed on your large belly. “I have arranged for celebratory games to be held for the next two weeks. I want all of Rome to join in our celebrating the forthcoming birth of our heir.”

You turned to him. “Geta, I’m not sure I should-“

“Shh, my love,” he hushed you. “You do not have to attend, anaticula. I know you do not care for them. And I would rather keep you both safe from harm.”

You smiled gently at your husband. Somehow, he continued to surprise you with how much he loved and cared for you, and now the child in your belly, too. You knew no matter if it was a boy or a girl, Geta would be the perfect father, would love this child fiercely. He would not let harm come to either of you.

“He needs a strong name,” he thought to himself. “Lucius. Septimius. But perhaps we should meet him first? See what kind of personality he will have?”

“We do not yet know if it will be a he,” you teased him, your hand resting on your belly next to his. You felt a small kick beneath your hand and quickly grabbed Geta’s, moving it to that exact spot. After a moment of waiting, a grin spread across the Emperor’s face, pure jubilation evident in his eyes.

“Boy or girl, they’re nice and strong,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “I love you, Carissima.”

You smiled, eyes fluttering closed. “I love you, my beloved.”

Geta rubbed your belly gently, soothing your nausea and pains as you relaxed into him in your large, plush bed. As you began to drift off to sleep in the arms of your Emperor, you heard his quiet voice one last time in your ear.

“Nunc scio quid sit amor. Now I know what love is.”

778 notes · View notes

borathae · 7 months ago

Text

↳ Index [Day 08 - Sex Magic]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Jungkook x sub f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Wizard!Jungkook, Fantasy!AU

Kinks: love making, vaginal penetrative sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, blowjob, cunnilingus, spit, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), edging (m.receiving), praise, body worship, sex magic & toys aka he enchants a crystal wand so it becomes a vibrator, size & strength kink, cuddly aftercare

Wordcount: 7.4k

a/n: someone gave me these kinks and i went “what if KOOK was the one with magic for a change?” and then this was born. also, i say this with pride, he is 100% and proudly inspired by Howl Pendragon from Howl’s Moving Castle, like, this is basically a Howl!AU with Kook. i also wholeheartedly fell in love with this Kook oh my lORD he is so dreamy and perfect <3

Jungkook Pendragon was many a things. Healer of the sick. Protector of the weak. Traveller of worlds. Wizard of one’s trust. Lover of animals and nature. An introvert rarely happy about small talk. Connoisseur of good foods. And man of immaculate beauty. He possessed the wits and intelligence to escape many a dicey situations. His bravery and courage was known just as well as his kind and empathetic heart. His humour never stooped down to insult other people, instead it so very often came down to making a fool of himself for the sake of a good laugh. But as funny as he was, he was also serious. He was intense and stern and scary if one dared to cross him. He was powerful and those who wronged the innocent felt his strength to its fullest.

In his daily life however, Jungkook rarely showed off his strength. He helped flowers bloom anew or lit a fire for a desperate baker, he filled the bowl of a hungry stray cat or showed curious children a harmless but wondrous magic trick. Whatever his little show of strength might be, in his daily life, Jungkook wanted to bring happiness to the living beings around him with it.

You were no exception from people he wanted to make smile. Perhaps you were the one whose happiness was most important to him. His beloved and cherished wife. Only human and terribly weak against the dangers of dark distant lands. And he loved you more than he had ever loved another before.

You lived in his hometown your whole life. You knew of his existence and the help he bore to the townsfolk. You also knew that sometimes his windows went black and that meant his house wasn’t exactly in town. He explained to you later when you and he were already lovers how it worked. That he needed to use a lever by the front door to teleport his interior and the beings inside to another place and that he possessed buildings in each place to teleport into. Some of these places you were allowed to as well, while others he kept hidden from you because they would be too dangerous.

Sometimes you stay in town while Jungkook disappears through the door and when he returns again, he brings the stench of death and signs of a hard battle. You always nurture him back to health even if seeing his body bruised and broken from fights hurt you.

Now back to how you met. It was five years ago when a wicked warlock cursed your cats to stone. You knew instantly to seek the wizard Jungkook Pendragon for help. Up until this point, you have only heard of him and perhaps seen him hurry through the streets in passing, and when you stood before him, you barely managed to get your words out. He was beautiful. Beautiful beyond your wildest imagination. His skin radiated in health and youth. His hair, dark as raven feathers and slightly wavy, ended just a little above his shoulders. His eyes were friendly and filled with galaxies. They were the darkest brown, but glowed purple when he used his magic. His features were ethereal and his body both strong and slim. He was taller than you and smelled of sandalwood. Back then, he smiled at you and asked what you needed and you somehow stuttered your problem. He knew exactly what to do and somehow through being yourself, you managed to catch his attention as well. It wasn’t long after, and because of some very intense romancing by him, that you and he became lovers. You married but six months after, about which your parents were very happy. You moved into his house one day after the wedding, taking your two cats and everything you owned with you. Jungkook welcomed you in his home gladly. He gave you his sunniest room and encouraged you to fill it with your most beloved hobbies. Each time you placed a thing of yours somewhere in the house, he smiled and said how much he loved it there. And over time, his home became as much your home as it was his’. He even fulfilled your dream of owning a garden, accessible through his magic door and built just for you.

Jungkook Pendragon was many of things. Wizards, healer, protector and fighter, but most of all he was your beloved husband. The man you love more than you have ever loved another person.

Dawn has long past and the town was whispering for sleep. Jungkook hasn’t come home yet. It has been since the morning when he went through one of the bad doors. It worries you to the point you can’t find calm. The dinner is dished, cold by now, and he should be home already. The only dinner you managed to get down were your own fingernails as you bit them in nervousness. Your cats, Fili and Kili, are sleeping by the fire but you could see from their erect ears that they were nervous as well. You cannot take it anymore. Is he still alive? You have such thoughts often when he leaves through one of the bad doors. Not every country on this planet was as safe and peaceful as your homeland. Many were cursed by monsters, war or dark magic. There were other wizards like Jungkook, but not many felt courageous enough to venture beyond their own borders. Jungkook never limited his powers to borders, he went where magic was needed and while you loved him for it, you also loathed this part of him. His kindness will kill him one day. You would never dare to tell him that because it was what he needed to feel happy, but sometimes you wished that he would stop leaving through bad doors and stay with you instead.

Speaking of doors. The number shield above the lever suddenly flicks to black. You jump up from the armchair, staring at the front door with bated breath. The doorknob turns. Please let him be unharmed, please. The door opens, allowing the stench of phosphor to enter your home. Jungkook walks over the threshold like the wind, closing the door quickly and flicking the lever back to the town. He walks upright and with lightness in his steps. His face and clothes were darkened by soot, as were his hands, but he looked unharmed.

“What a day”, he says, shrugging off his black cape.

“Beloved!” you call out, running to jump into his arms.

“Oh?” Jungkook catches you with a laugh and his dirtied hands under your behind.

“I’m so glad that you’re home. I was so worried that you were hurt or, or worse killed”, you almost sob into his shoulder, twisting his hair to get him closer to you.

“Worry not about me. I’m home safe.”

“Yes? Oh Jungkook, my beloved”, you cradle his face.

Jungkook sets you down gently, holding your waist as he smiles down at you.

“You are so dirty. Oh my beloved, are you truly unharmed?”

“Yes, I promise you this is just soot which lingered in the air. I fought and won.”

“You will cause me heart problems one day. You’re finally home”, you say and hug him, face buried in his strong chest despite his dirtied clothes.

Jungkook hugs you back, caressing the back of your head. He leans down and kisses the crown of your head, resting his cheek on it afterwards with closed eyes. His beloved woman. He loves this part of his days the most. To return home and be greeted by your hug is truly what Jungkook does all of this for.

“My little love”, he whispers, holding you safely, “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, so very much.” You crane your neck so you could look up at him and get on your tiptoes. Jungkook meets you in the middle, cradling your cheeks as you and he kiss. His lips taste of ash and so you pull back with a slight scowl.

Jungkook chuckles, “I know I taste awful. Let me bathe and then I will really kiss you.”

“Yes, alright. I shall warm dinner in the meantime.”

“Oh my little love”, he whispers and kisses your forehead in gratefulness. He breaks away from you to hurry upstairs in light steps and a melody on his lips. You clean off the soot from your clothes and cheeks, hurrying to the kitchen afterwards.

Dinner is served and warm when Jungkook skips down the steps. He changed into black pants into which he tugged a white flowy shirt. His bare feet are almost silent on the many rugs spread on the wooden floor. He dances to your side, picks you up to twirl with you once. You laugh loudly, wobbling slightly when he sets you down again.

“How I missed you”, he says, hugging you close and nuzzling his face into your neck. His hands roam your body innocently, rubbing your back and waist, giving your buttocks a gentle squeeze and caressing your arms. It is as if he refuses to let go and you love it so much, melting into him if there wasn’t dinner waiting.

He ends his loving touches by holding your waist and cradling your hand with the other, resting his forehead against yours to sway with you to melodies he hums. It is as if you were dancing.

You smile, having your eyes closed. He has such a beautiful singing voice. Sometimes when sleep comes a little harder to you, as it sometimes does to a person, Jungkook caresses your face and sings to you softly until you fell asleep. You love these nights so very much and whenever he is gone for longer than a day and you can’t fall asleep because of worry, you are damned to a sleepless night. Are have gotten so used to his singing that living without is like torture.

“Is this a new melody? You keep humming it lately?” you whisper.

“Yes, I thought of it”, he says and singings it softly with syllables of “lalala”s.

You join his singing harmonising with him, which makes him smile and kiss your lips. You giggle.

“Mhm, you perfect blessing you”, he says, trying to deepen the kiss but you squirm away for the sole purpose of talking. If there wasn’t dinner waiting for you and him, you would want to stay in this moment for ages.

“Dinner will be cold again if we take any more time.”

“Mhm, you’re right.” He kisses your cheek and steps back, but keeps his hands on your waist. “What did you make?”

“Your favourite. Potato stew with cow’s meat. The bread is fresh, from baker Yoongi. Sit down, sit down.”

“I’m in a dream. You have no idea how much this will cheer me up tonight.”

He sits down, earning himself a kiss to his shoulder before you sit down as well opposite of him. You break the bread, giving him the bigger piece because he always eats so much more than you when he returns from a bad door.

You talk about your days during dinner. You tell him that you went into town for shopping and that you met your parents for some tea. He tells you about the dangers he encountered. The situation in Berking was brittle as more and more fire demons invaded the mountainous lands and threatened the livelihood of the people. Jungkook worked together with the wizard of Berking, Taehyung Emerand, but he fears that soon their shared powers won’t be enough to ward off the demons. Jungkook plans on visiting the wizard Seokjin Koral tomorrow and ask for his aid in the matter. He is positive that the wizard will help.

You and Jungkook clean the kitchen together after dinner and because it is so late already, you decide to go to bed soon after.

It took you a while to get used to Jungkook’s bedroom. His furniture was dark and the bed most comfortable, but the room was brimming with treasures. There was no wall which wasn’t covered in trinkets or artworks and no surface which didn’t carry more trinkets or healing plants. Many of the items were of magical nature and helped Jungkook recharge when he slept. Some bore memories while others were merely of aesthetic nature. You felt overwhelmed from all the views at first, but now you loved it dearly. Every item had its home and it fit so well together with the rest. These days, there are a few of your trinkets in the collection as well, looking perfectly in place. The floor was entirely covered in colourful, expensive rugs scattered without plan. Most corners of the room, or spaces where you rarely walked, were covered in stacks of books. Tonight, Jungkook reads one of the books when you enter the bedroom in nothing but your sleeping gown. He stepped out of his pants as well, now lying in bed with a bared behind covered by the warm blanket.

“The water was really warm tonight. I barely wanted to leave the bath.”

“Yes, it felt good on the skin. The weather gets colder here again so it’s nice to have a warm bath.”

“Yes, not long and we will have to use the thicker blanket. I can’t wait, I love this blanket”, you say, getting comfortable under the covers.

Jungkook lowers the book and places his hand on the side of your head so he could caress you gently. You gaze up at him, head the only thing sticking out from under the blanket. The light of the night lamp illuminates his face in warm colour, his dark hair falls in soft waves. Looking at him will never not make your heart flutter.

“Please don’t die far away from me, Jungkook Pendragon.”

“Oh beloved, you worry too much”, Jungkook speaks softly, massaging your ear soothingly.

“Please just promise me.”

“I promise you. I shall grow old until I look like a raisin and then die in your arms.”

You snicker, making him smile with it.

“Yes, I can accept that.”

He chuckles, booping your nose.

“You’re too cute.”

He picks up the book and continues where he left off. You continue where you left off too, which is staring at his face to make sure that he was truly back with you again.

“What are you reading?” you ask him, fingers tracing the side of his thigh mindlessly under the blanket.

“Spells I might need tomorrow. If Seokjin wants to leave for Berking right away, I want to be prepared.”

“So you will fight again tomorrow?”

Jungkook lowers the book, meeting your eyes.

“Hey, little love”, he brushes his hand over your temple soothingly, “don’t worry about me. Nothing will happen to me, I promise.”

“You made a promise about raisins.”

“And I intend to keep it”, he says, scratching your scalp softly so your thoughts could calm down. He continues petting you like this as he gets lost in the book again, using magic to float it in front of him and flick the pages.

What if you won’t ever see him again? Jungkook wants you to calm down and find sleep, but you can’t. You could lose him tomorrow. He could be gone, leaving you alone with no arms to lie in and no person to call home. If this moment wasn’t so tranquil, you would be crying. Instead you look at his face to memorise every inch of it just in case.

Jungkook soon glances at you.

“Try to sleep, beloved” he whispers, brushing his fingers over your lids gently to close them.

“I can’t. I’m worried about tomorrow.”

“Don’t, I will return back to you.” Jungkook lies down on his side, kissing your forehead as he holds you close. “Try to sleep, beloved, please try to sleep.”

“I can’t. I want to look at you longer.”

“Do I have to tire you, mhm?”

Your lids flutter, as does your heart. Jungkook smiles sweetly, pinching your cheek and kissing it.

“Try to sleep, yes?” he whispers before sitting back up to return to the book.

You continue to stare. His words made you desperate for him. You didn’t even think of this yet. If you lose him, you will also lose the intimacy.

Jungkook is many a things. Wizard, healer, saviour, husband. And he is also the most attentive lover. You knew some intimacy before Jungkook, but truly got to know it through him. He waited after your wedding, of course he did. As a matter of fact, he was such a gentleman, that he didn’t even kiss you before you were officially his wife for he didn’t want to spoil your honour. The first kiss you shared was during the wedding ceremony and then later at night, Jungkook kissed you properly, sealing your shared fate. He couldn’t get enough of you and you couldn’t get enough of him. It always feels so good to be intimate with him. What if tonight is the last night to share this feeling?

“Beloved?”

Jungkook sighs and looks at you, “why are you still up? Look at you, you seem so tired already.”

“I don’t care. I want to be with you.”

“You are, little love, you are. In sleep as well.”

“Not yet, I have a wish.”

He places the book aside and lies down on his side, drawing calming circles on your upper back. His eyes are filled with so much love, his face looks constantly happy when he looks at you.

“Tell me your wish.”

“Can we love each other tonight? If you don’t return tomorrow, I want to have something to think back fondly on.”

Jungkook swallows the words he actually wanted to speak, that your worries were for nought and that you should sleep, when he sees how much you truly needed this tonight. He smiles with his eyes and kisses the shell of your ear.

“Of course, my beloved. We can love each other.”

“Really?”

"Yes, of course. I missed you today. Loving you like this, would make me very happy.”

“It would make me happy too. Jungkook, my beloved.” You touch his chest. “Can I taste you?”

“You.” He gulps, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “You would want this?”

“Yes. A lot.”

“I, I want it as well.”

You sigh his name. He cradles your cheek.

“But first I need to kiss you. Truly kiss you.”

You meet him eagerly, fingers burying themselves deep in his soft hair and lips so ready to be claimed. Jungkook smiles into the kiss because of your eagerness, purring softly while his hand pulls you closer by your waist. He puts his other arm under your head, placing his hand on your shoulder. Naturally and happily, you drape your leg over his hips, breaking the kiss to whisper.

“This feels so good.”

“It does, my beloved. I love holding you.”

The kiss continues. Your hearts beat in sync, your lips dance perfectly together. How you both needed this tonight. He missed you all day, looking forward to the moment he was finally with you again. You missed him as well, worrying for his safety and healing now that he was kissing you again.

You remember the first night he properly kissed you. You laid under him, cradled in his strong arms and with your breath stolen by him. It has been years ever since and it still feels as exciting as it did back then. Perhaps even more exciting because your love for each other grew over the years. Familiarity, intimacy, connection replaced the once thrilling feeling of learning each other and with it allowed your love to blossom. Being known and knowing in return is much better than getting know, it truly is. Jungkook knows that you love it most when he uses his tongue to trace your lips. You know that he gets especially excited when you run your nails over his scalp. You use your knowledge tonight, soon turning the kiss from gentle to just a little starved. You moan first, Jungkook answers you instantly, hand gripping your thigh to tug you closer. His hold on you is gentle but desperate. The hardness poking your middle shows his hunger even better. You and he both know that you needed to end this kiss in order to continue.

It breaks with shaky breaths leaving the both of you. You can’t stop looking at him. He reciprocates, starry eyes racing between yours. His fingers brush your cheek, his whisper comes oh so very quietly.

“I love you with the very essence of my soul, ___ Pendragon.”

“I love you with every breath I draw, Jungkook Pendragon.”

He exhales shakily, resting his forehead against yours. You and he close your eyes.

“My little love….”

For a brief second, you enjoy the moment of connection. You are both aroused yet want to take time to truly savour each other. Being naked and getting it done quickly is easy, but what truly makes intimacy with him so wonderful is that you equally want to take your time. You savour the connection, the moments your souls are intertwined and your hearts are one.

“I feel so good”, you breathe.

“I feel so good, too”, he whispers.

“I want you.”

“I want you too, so very much that my hand…” he dances it to your behind and gives it a gentle squeeze, “...wants to act up.”

You giggle, he chuckles.

“You’re just being cheeky.”

“Mhm, I am. It makes you laugh.”

“Oh beloved you”, you break the connection by gently pushing him to his back. He moves gladly, breath quickening at what was to come. You peck his lips first, then lie down on your stomach, draping your arm over his waist. You feel up his chest slowly, gazing at his face. His heart races uncontrollably.

“You’re beautiful”, you say and rest your cheek on his chest, scrunching your face in a love drunk smile. And as you rest, your hand rubs him slowly, memorising how it feels to touch him. “My strong love and yet you are still so soft.”

Jungkook smiles, brushing his hand down your cheek. With a giggle and scrunch of your nose you lift yourself again to kiss him over the shirt. Your hands and fingers guide your lips, painting a picture of him in your memories. His strong yet comfortable chest, which is so perfect to hide in, his delicate collarbones, on which necklaces always sit so prettily, his tender neck which always smells so good and his strong shoulders, which are perfect to lean on, his even stronger arms which give the best hugs and then you take the path back. You brush your lips over his nipples, making him sigh softly, but you don’t linger. You need to kiss his stomach next, which is so strong but also so soft when he lies with you. You hug him and rest your cheek on it.

“You are so soft, you really are.”

Jungkook chuckles but sighs soon after. He feels so warm inside. If this is how he can spend the night before battle, he is one lucky man. Quite frankly, he is the luckiest man who ever lived. He is married to you after all.

It so happens that you soon reach the edge of the blanket. You glance at his face briefly. His eyes are closed. So it will be a surprise. Good. You love surprising him.

You push the blanket down to the middle of his thighs carefully and slip his shirt up to his lower stomach, exposing his hardened length. You keep one arm still around his waist, using it to support some of your weight as you lower your starving mouth to his length. He fits between your lips as if he was molded just for you.

Jungkook gasps loudly, hand falling to the nape of your neck and fingers ever so slightly dimpling your skin. His hips twitch up, his length throbs on your tongue. The surprise was successful. How exciting.

You moan and begin moving. You concentrate on his tip, using both your tongue and lips to taste him. He is sensitive where he leaks and around his frenulum, so you switch between these two spots, listening to the sweet moans he releases in reaction. His hand is still on your neck, grasping it and when he doesn’t, he gives you gentle rubs of gratefulness.

You lick his taste from his slit, purring in answer to his gasped moans. You enjoy his taste a lot. At first, you were surprised by how he tasted down there. You always expected it to be different flavoured, more like milk to match the look of it, but that isn’t so. It is masculine when he is deeply aroused and sweet when he ate lots of fruit and sometimes it carries a hint of salt in its taste but most of all, it tasted like him. And you loved this flavour so much that you find yourself drooling all over him right now. You slurp it up, picking up what you can’t swallow with your fingers to spread it on his lower inches in a deep and skilful massage.

“Beloved this is…” He groans deeply, kicking the mattress as you force his legs to be restless. “...a lot. Ah mmhhgm.”

What an exciting reaction. Your stomach flutters and your wetness grows between your legs. You sink him between your lips, keeping them relaxed so they move as you suck him. You press the flat of your tongue against his length, moving your head in the same rhythm you move your hand.

“Beloved ah”, he gasps, fingers digging into your tender neck desperately. He kicks the sheets, bucking his hips up afterwards.

Encouraged by his reactions, you pick up speed and depth, drooling down his length without bothering to swallow it.

Jungkook moans loudly, hand dropping from your neck to reach up and grab the corner of his pillow. He cannot decide whether to keep his eyes closed or gawk at the ceiling in disbelief. He also cannot decide whether to dig his head into the pillow or lift it in surprise. Neither can he decide whether to gasp or moan. Perhaps he does all of these things. With no pattern behind them. They just happen and happen while you suck his very soul out of his length. He feels it in every inch of his cock, feels it in his balls as well. It burns like fire and consumes the very same. It spread to his stomach by now, lingering as a warm, tight knot. It consumed his legs as well, rendering them useless and tingly as if millions of fire ants crawled over them.

He might release in your mouth if he wasn’t careful. It would feel so good and you would love it so much, but he can’t. If you want tonight to truly be memorable, he wants to do it the right way. He wants to look into your eyes as he lets go and feel your fingers grasp his arms as you feel it coat your walls.

You moan around him, head pounding in pleasure. You love to have him in your mouth. It shouldn’t feel that good to have something hit your throat over and over again but it does. You love him inside so much that you feel no need to gag or choke, only the need to consume him more and more.

“Stop it now”, Jungkook however stops you, sliding his hand to your chin to gently pry you off his length. “Stop or you will make me release.”

You slip off begrudgingly, turning your head to look at him. Your lips are puffy and glossy, your eyes are hazy. Jungkook feels thoughtless at the view of you, except for one thought.

“Oh you, let me kiss you”, he gets out and pulls you up to him so he could do just that. You whimper, melting into him instantly. You don’t mind anymore that he stopped you from tasting his orgasm, not when he kisses you so hungrily. He flips your position, claiming the emptiness between your legs with his hips. Only the thin fabric of your sleeping gown keeps you from connecting deeper.

“Oh you…perfect woman. You felt so good I feared for my heart. Oh you…”

Jungkook tastes himself on your lips and tongue as he kisses you. It makes him want to kiss you even more, even better, even longer. Not just your lips. Everywhere. Your beautiful face, which he always thinks of for happiness when times are hard, your tender neck so soft and smelling always so good, your collarbones which are prettiest when sunlight hits them, your shoulders which sometimes get stiff but which relax so easily when he rubs them, your arms which are the only home he will ever have, your chest which is rather precious to handle. He palms your breasts and gathers them carefully so he could kiss them over the thin fabric. His warmth seeps into your skin like this, drawing gasps from your lips. He feels so good on your body.

“You are the living proof that the creator is an artist. She carved you from the very soils of beauty, my beloved”, he breathes, lips ghosting over your tender nipples without ever deepening the touch. That is the task of another night, he needs to worship every inch of you. Your sides which he loves to hold and gently tickle because it makes you laugh, your upper stomach which tenses whenever he makes you belt in laughter, your stomach which is so soft. So soft. Jungkook finds himself sinking his head into it and sighing your name.

He gazes up at you, holding your sides.

“I’m home when I’m with you, ___ Pendragon.”

You ruffle his hair, smiling at him.

“You’re my home too.”

Jungkook sighs happily, lifting his head to continue his path. He wiggles under the blanket and lifts your gown, sticking his head under it. You gawk with bated breath, waiting for his wet tongue between your folds.

It never comes, instead he places dozens and dozens of kisses on each of your inner thighs, drawing a sigh from your lips. You prop your legs up all on your own, getting his hands on your upper hips outside the gown. You can hold them like this and you do, grabbing one finger per hand as he kisses a path closer and closer to your heat.

Jungkook bends the fingers you hold, letting you know that he was holding you back. The warmth between your folds hits you a second later, surprising you so greatly that you squeak and close your legs on his head.

“Mhm.” He lifts his mouth, “forgive me. Too far?”

“No, no sorry. I startled, that’s all. Please more”, you stutter, opening your legs.

“I will be gentle, I promise my beloved”, he says and sticks his tongue out to part your petals with it. You squeeze the fingers you hold, moaning his name.

Jungkook closes his eyes, releasing a breath of utter relief. He loves to be between your legs. You offer him such heaven. You are soft and tender and so warm. When he excites you, your warmth begins to smell so intensely feminine and addicting that Jungkook becomes droopy. And your taste. Oh, your taste. Jungkook loves every drop of it. You become sweeter the more aroused you get and your nectar changes from thicker to more liquid. You are already so wet tonight from pleasuring him that Jungkook can’t decide where to linger. Your entrance, your petals or your clit. All of it gets traced and licked by his eager tongue. He can picture you in his mind when he does it. How you open up like the prettiest flower, how there are the first then the second petals revealing your warm depth and presenting your swollen clit.

“You’re beautiful, so beautiful” he murmurs into you and includes his lips as well. He sucks and kisses you, forcing your voice to raise in pitch as he makes you moan constantly.

Your legs are shaky and it feels as if millions of ants were crawling under your skin, just how you made him feel. The same warmth is in your stomach as well, tight and deep inside you, hiding almost.

You mewl and tug at his finger. Jungkook comes up with a slurp, appearing from your gown. His raven hair is messy, his rosy lips glossy.

“Was I too rough?” he asks with worried eyes.

“No, your fingers please, your fingers.”

“Ah, I understand”, he smiles and sticks his two longest into his mouth to coat them in a good layer of his spit. He slides his other hand to your inner thigh and opens your legs further with a gentle tug.

You whimper in reaction, fingers grasping the sheets. To be gazed upon by him as he pleasures you is so arousing to you. He is looking at your face, watching your reaction as you take his digits.

The stretch is unbearable, not because it hurts, but because it feels too good. He is so careful in how he fills you, gliding in inch by inch.

You whimper, face contorting in pleasure. Warm. You are so warm now that you are finally filled.

“So beautiful. You are so beautiful”, Jungkook says and disappears inside your gown again to lick you eagerly. He traces your stuffed folds first, moaning deeply at the feeling of it. He can’t wait to exchange his fingers with his length. For now however, he wants to help you to an orgasm with just his fingers and tongue. He curls them deep inside you, pressing them against your upper walls right where it felt best. A gasp from you. Jungkook guides his tongue to your clit and presses it against you tightly to use the pressure and wet warmth to rub it with his tongue. The gasp turns into a moan. And another. Then another blending into a constant stream of noises as he gives you pleasure so intense you can see light behind your lids.

You twist the sheets and tug on them, head buried deep in the pillow and back arched off the mattress. Your toes curl, gripping the sheets. The once quiet warmth in your lower body turns into a raging, all consuming fire. His fingers fill you entirely, the pressure on your insides is perfect and his slickened tongue is so strong in its grinds. He will make you climax. It is inescapable.

“I have to orgasm”, you get out, whimpering his name next.

Jungkook encourages you to let go with a hungry growl, sealing your fate.

You throw your head back and break screaming his name. Jungkook moans, tingling with you as he helps you ride it out until you pull away all by yourself.

Jungkook licks his fingers clean before reappearing from your gown, lower face messy in your orgasm and his drool.

“Beloved”, you croak, reaching for him. He lies himself down on you, meeting you in the middle for a kiss. You whimper and twitch, grasping him desperately as you use his kisses as your remedy. He left you so shaken from your high, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. You are alive when you can be with him this way.

You break the kiss with a wish on your lips, “can I feel your skin on mine?”

“Yes, of course. This would be everything to me”, he says and sits up to pull his shirt over his head. You do the same with your gown. You and he stay seated afterwards, gazing at each other.

“You’re beautiful”, you say, tracing his pecs.

“You are just as beautiful”, he breathes and hugs you against him.

You instantly melt, eyes closing and skin taking in every second of contact it has with him. He is so warm and soft. He is the same temperature as you and yet he feels so much warmer than you. Like your only heat source in a cold room.

“I want to be with you.”

“You will be, I promise. Do you want to lie down for it?”

“Yes, very.”

While you lie down, he disappears from your side for a brief moment to get a small wand of pure emerald, then claims his spot between your legs again. He intertwines his right hand with yours, resting on his elbows. He uses his left hand to cradle your cheek and caress it. His eyes gaze at you with so much love that you feel breathless.

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful too.”

“No, but you are truly so beautiful”, he whispers and furrows his brows as his emotion overwhelm him. “Oh my beloved. I will be gentle with you, I promise.”

“Whatever you promise, please just hurry. I need you inside me. Please.”

“Help me, yes?”

You reach down with your left hand and take his length to guide it to your entrance. You give him a gentle push and then he takes over, filling you with him in a careful push of his hips.

Your breath hitches, you grasp his shoulder and squeeze his hand. He furrows his brows, eyes clouding over in pleasure.

“Is this good for you? Are you in pain?”

You shake your head vigorously and squeeze his shoulder as well.

“And now? I feel you tightening. Is it too much so soon after your orgasm?”

“I’m tightening because it feels so good”, you croak and roll your hips up to take the last inch.

Jungkook moans your name, dropping his forehead against yours and squeezing his eyes shut. A curse slips from his lips, “forgive me”, he instantly apologises.

“Don’t. I agree. Damn it. Ah beloved, I love you.”

“I love you too”, Jungkook chokes out and kisses you, beginning to chase your warmth in deep but gentle movements. You swallow each other’s initial moan. Jungkook slips his hand from your cheek and grasps the pillow instead, holding it with the kind of desperate strength he wouldn’t dare to hold you in fear of hurting you. But he has to hold something like this. The tingling fire in his legs and stomach is back, his length feels even better than it did when it was being sucked by you. If he didn’t grasp something, he would go insane. He regrets not releasing in your mouth when he had the chance because he is paying the price now.

Jungkook breaks the kiss, drool still sticking to your lips and his.

“I’m so sensitive. Every stroke feels like coming alive. I should have released in your mouth, ah beloved, ahmh it’s…you’re driving me insane.”

“Is it too much?”

“Almost, I’m burning up. It feels…”

“It feels so good”, you whimper.

“That’s right, it feels so good”, he agrees and moans, length so deep inside you that you swear you can feel his soul reach into you.

You gaze up at him through your blurry vision. He is so close to you but you see enough. His pleasure twisted face, his messy hair, his flushed cheeks.

“You are so beautiful right now, so beautiful.”

“You are…beauti…ful…too”, he struggles with his words, following it up with a growl and his fingers slipping from your grasp to instead grip your wrist and pin it into the pillow. He does it carefully, unlike how he twists the pillow.

“My beloved, it’s so difficult not to break you. Are you still comfortable?”

“Yes, please.”

“Oh my little love, my warm soft love… it takes everything inside me not to ruin you.”

You clench around him, arching your back. To be underneath him, to be so fragile and weak in comparison to him and to be treated with such utter tenderness because of it, is driving you insane as well.

You reach between your bodies and touch your clit.

“Ah!”

Jungkook peels his eyes open at the sound. His hips stop.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he gasps, worried.

“Yes, yes. Please move.”

“Oh my love, what a relief. You are just so small and tender. I worried that I hurt you for a second.”

“Jungkook, please”, you beg him, gazing up at him pleadingly. You wiggle your hips, trying to give yourself more pleasure with quick rubs of your clit.

“No, wait. I have something for you.”

“What?” you ask breathlessly, craving more of what he did.

He sits up, cock still inside you, and reaches for the emerald wand. He closes his fist around it and whispers an enchantment over it. It looks normal afterwards and feels warm as he places it in your hand.

“What did you do to it?”

“Tap it once.”

You follow. The wand begins vibrating in your fingers, “oh?”

“For you. It will last for a day. Tap it again and it will increase gradually, tap it twice and it will stop.”

“This is so…”

“Place it on your clit.”

You obey in curiosity, sitting up slightly in shock upon the initial sensation.

“Jungkook”, you croak, walls throbbing around him.

“Does this feel good?”

“Yes”, you mewl, nodding your head vigorously.

“Good. Use it whenever you need it.”

Jungkook pushes you down gently and with a knowing smile, lays himself back down over you to pick up where he left off.

You gasp and writhe, gawking at him with widened eyes. He soothes you with gentle caresses of your temples and cheeks.

“Isn’t that nice?”

“-ice”, you manage to squeak out because then you are unable to speak, scrunching your face up and grasping his arm.

“You are so beautiful, my beloved. I love you so much”, he moans, head dizzy because of this situation.

You are writhing under him, hips bucking up to chase him and walls so tight around his length it is almost impossible not to orgasm. Giving you pleasure, making you feel good, is his biggest pleasure.

“You’re taking me so well, you are so beautiful, so beautiful…”

Jungkook grits his teeth and angles his hips differently to stimulate your sensitive spots. He keeps his length buried inside you for it, drawing circles.

You inhale loudly, reaching above you to twist the pillow. Your eyes spill tears because of the intensity with which he pleasures you. You have never felt like this before. The wand gives you shakes you truly cannot control. His length has never felt so filling before, so big and ever consuming. It is as if you are giving him your very soul right now.

“Jungkook”, his name leaves you in a desperate keen as you kick the sheets.

“Don’t hold back, I will follow. I promise you, my little love.”

He breaks you into a million pieces just as he patches you back up again at the same time. You thought that you screamed in bed before, but you hadn’t. This is a true scream of pleasure, one so utterly soul bearing that Jungkook feels his eyes cross and roll back before he orgasms so deep inside you, he feels your walls quiver in reaction.

You and he ride out your shared highs in messy thrusts and rolls of your hips, falling in each other’s arms afterwards to kiss sloppily. The emerald lies in the sheets, still vibrating but without use. Your fingers are in his hair, he cradles your face.

“I love you, I love you, I love you”, he chants and you answer him with the very same words over and over and over again until your breath runs out and you need to catch it together.

You stay close, rubbing your noses together gently.

“How are you feeling? Was I too rough?” he asks.

“You were perfect. You felt so good. I, I never experienced such sensations before”, you say.

“I know. You screamed. I never heard you scream like this before. My beloved, my eyes actually crossed because of it. I never felt my orgasm so intensely before.”

“Me neither. It was as if you were trying to crawl into me.”

“And for me it was as if you wanted to consume me whole.”

You and he giggle, hugging each other.

“You are going to drive me insane one day, ___ Pendragon.”

“Good. When the day comes, I will become mad with you, Jungkook Pendragon.”

He smiles, hiding his face in your neck.

“Good. I can accept that.”

“It is decided then. We will become two mad raisins.”

He laughs, lifting his head to get lost in your eyes.

“Promise. We will become two mad raisins together. My precious, beloved love”, he whispers, cradling your cheek.

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diejager · 8 months ago

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Requests are open? 👀♡ (Feel free to ignore (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠))

How would Perv!Stepbrother!König react to his younger stepsister getting into a relationship? He'd warned you about how sick and depraved some men can be, hoping that you'd keep yourself for him, a selfish and entitled decision he'd made.

König has known you for so long and you're all he craves, what he yearns for. You're the highlight of his day, what he fantasises about. He looks forward to coming home after a month long deployment, being enveloped by his beloved stepsister, to rut his growing bulge against your clothed cunt sneakily and quietly while you run your fingers through his tangled, knotted hair.

Do you think he purposely neglects himself, hoping that you'll see the effect your new relationship has on him? Does he create fake conversations and screenshots of your significant other cheating on you? Does he attempt to manipulate and coerce you into getting him off? He'll plead with you with his bottom lip quivering, forcing tears to stream his flushed cheeks, begging for a quick and sloppy blowjob. You already know that König is a social reject, that it's more than likely he'll never get into a lasting relationship with someone that actually cares for him. He needs something more than his own calloused and rough fist to get himself off, little mouse.

Perhaps he'll secretly record you as you suck him off, with those pretty soft lips wrapped tightly around his meaty shaft and your soft fingers fondling his heavy balls. It hurts him to do this, Mauschen. He warned you, and you should've known better than to get with that deranged, selfish asshole. He'll use these videos against you, blackmailing you into pleasuring him while being in a relationship with another man. He feels sick, but he knows what's best for you, Liebling.

I Know Best

Dark!Stepbro!König x stepsis!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, manipulation/coercion, blowjob, loser!König, non-con filming, implied cheating, faking proof, dacryphilia, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1k

“How do you know he’s bad for me?!” you screamed back, eyes glazed with tears, slightly red and swollen. Both you and him have been going on and on about the same subject over the past week —since he discovered from his friend that you started dating a boy he didn’t know.

“I am your brother, Mäuschen.”

He was your brother. Well, stepbrother, to be precise, your father(he found him a nice man, fair and caring) had married his soft mother, and had given him a miracle in the form of you : his precious and innocent, little sister that he’d vowed to protect and cherish in all manners of way. in both reality and his filthy fantasy.

“But you don’t even know him!” you were always so very stubborn about having your way, something he loved and hated about you.

“I don’t have to to know what a boy thinks, " he had no reason to raise his voice to you like you were doing, he was your older brother, the responsible one, “I’m trying to protect you-”

He couldn’t finish his sentence before you stormed off, cheeks puffed and lips pouty. He watched you stomp up the stairs and lock yourself in your room with a loud slam. König sighed into his palms, running his fingers through his hair, feeling exasperated with you and your stubborn naivety about the world. You were just as hard-headed as he was, so he couldn’t blame you completely. After all, you’d learned it from him.

But all he wanted was to protect you, the world was harsh, men and women cruel in their vain ways and selfish intent, and boys were the wort, their simple-minded thinking and mean intent would hurt you. Your generosity and affection would come back and bite you in the ass, break your big heart and shatter it in thousands of pieces. This boy you decided to date would leave him to pick up the pieces of your heart, to cradle it in his big palm and heal your aches.

König was your older brother, that’s why he knew best. He knew that, it was written all over him, but you seemed to be oblivious to it. He’ll just have to show you that all you need was him.

It wasn’t his fault that you were choking on his cock, nose buried in his musky pubes. He stank of days old sweat and oil and his skin and pubes crusty with old cum from when he jerked himself to completion in his room, watching pornstars that looked similar to you. It wasn’t his fault that he was in such a state of disarray, dirty and broken. It was all yours and he told you as much as your head bobbed between his thighs, head forced down by a hard grip, his fingers curled up at the roots of your hair.

Your neglect and distancing had drove him to depression, your forgetfulness of his presence in your life left him scrambling for any crumbs of affection you still had left —the ones you didn’t offer the boy. It was as if you’d forgotten he existed, forgotten he slept right across from you, forgotten you showered in the same bathroom and forgotten you ate ate the same table. You had forgotten him. And it hurt him so much.

It drove him into a deep depression, a dark cloud invading his mind and hazing up everything: from his day to day life to his hobbies and passion. all he could do without feeling his heart break was jerk off at the thought of you in his sheets, back arched and squiring under him, crying out his name and cumming around his cock. It was all he’d ever wanted since he first met you, the little teenager who hid behind her father despite being just a few years younger than him.

“I’m sorry, Mäuschen,” he moaned, hips rutting upwards and deeper in your throat, “but I warned you, didn’t I? I told you he wasn’t good for you.”

You gagged, throat clenching around him so tightly as you sputtered, adorable mewls and whines vibrating his throbbing girth. You looked so pretty like this, a sight he only dreamed of seeing, on your knees and crying around his cock. At first, he doubted you could take all of him, but you’d surprised him, watching his cock sink inch by inch in your warm and wet mouth, bulging the lining of your tight throat. He apologised for being so harsh, but he couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into you every time you tried to talk, your every word making him shudder and pulse.

It didn’t help that you were so, so very adorable with red and swollen eyes, mascara staining your cheeks. It made his harder than any fantasy he ever came up with in his deranged mind, it brought him closer to the edge over and over without much effort, and he had to stop himself less he wanted to cum within the first seconds. The best thing was that he was the one who made you cry, his words and evidence rather than the boy. Well, he played a small part, but it was all him!

The pictures and the video evidence that he showed you from his computer, the pixelated colours that made up people and plants and building. He had shown you “proof” of your boyfriend’s betrayal, pictures of him kissing a mystery woman, his tongue down her throat and his hands groping her like he wasn’t a taken man. König knew it would drive the nail into the coffin of your relationship, you had crumbled in his arms, clinging to him in tearful apologies for not believing him and pushing him away. He held you and comforted you, promising that he wouldn’t do that to you, that he was loyal to you, but you didn’t know that he was somewhat proficient in photoshop and video editing, or that he had friends in the field. That was all right to him, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.

“I know. I know,” he cooed, his tone harsh despite his voice cracking and depraved appearance, “I love you. Do you love me?”

You nodded, cheek hollowing and eagerly sucking him off, eyes rolling back. And he nearly came right then and there. Good thing he had cameras set all around his room, one in each corner and a big camcorder in the hand that wasn’t busy pushing you down his length.

taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #mw2 smut #stepbrother!konig #konig cod #tw: stepcest #dark cod #tw: dark content #dark content #tw dubcon #cw: non con #tw: manipulation #tw: cheating #dacryphilia

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merbear25 · 9 months ago

Note

Hey!! How is your day going? I have a request, could you do Katakuri, Crocodile, and Mihawk with a Fem S/O with a breeding kink :)

Hello! My day has been fabulous now that I was able to write such a great request. I don’t know what happened but these came out much longer than anticipated. I hope you like what I’ve written for you and wish you a wonderful day/night. 💜💜

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, breeding kink, creampie, established relationship

Their s/o having a breeding kink (Katakuri, Crocodile, Mihawk)

Katakuri: He was very much questioning why you would want to risk bringing a child into his family. With such uncertainty of what could come, the potential dangers that came with being tied to his mother made him hesitant to bring a child into that.

Oh but how he adored you; there were times he caught himself lost in thought—an image of you holding his child with such affection, looking at them with nothing but fondness was painted in his imagination. Listening to you share the vision of the family you saw with him unearthed something that had remained dormant for many years: a loving family of his own.

Despite his reluctance to make such fantasies a reality, your sweet pleas and gentle touches only continued to bring such a suppressed want further into the light. You were far too perfect for this world—too perfect for him. And yet, he found himself entertaining this idea more and more often.

It wasn’t as simple as you made it out to be, but perhaps you were already aware of that. He wasn’t one to throw caution to the wind and willingly surrender himself to wicked whims. If there was a chance that he’d impregnate you, there needed to be a plan set in place. At least that way, he would be able to fill you as much as either of you wanted.

As you curled up closer to him in bed, he instinctively wrapped you up in his arms. The mutual yearning to feel both physically and emotionally connected never subsided, and in fact was heightened when you laid together—your warm bodies finding solace in each other. The temptation to have such an innocent display of affection turn into something more was an option which was never off of the table.

When the two of you were alone, the rest of the world was of no importance. Such moments with you deserved to be cherished: savoring the way your skin felt under his hands, the way you whimpered when he gripped the fat on your hips, and the soft huffs you made as he caressed you.

You would look exquisite with a round belly; the thought crept up on him. But despite how sudden such a thought was, his fingers kneaded your soft skin and lingered on the fattier parts. He couldn’t stop himself from imagining how perfect your body was to carry a child—his child.

He slipped his hand between your thighs, teasing you as his long fingers glided against your clit.

Leaning in closely, his voice was barely above a whisper, “You want to have a baby with me?” A question that bore part of his worries that you’d change your mind.

The vulnerability he had couldn’t be missed. “I’d love nothing more.” You let your heart guide you in that moment, allowing the sincerity in your words to console any doubts.

His lips twitched for a moment, hinting at how deeply your words touched him. Swiftly, he leaned in to capture your lips all while sliding his fingers into you. Even after the many times you gave yourself to him, preparation was always a necessity.

Your slick arousal coated his fingers, which made you appear even more delectable—ripe for his seed.

“Come here,” he breathed, pulling you into a better position.

Aligning his tip with your entrance, he eased his way in to give your body time to adjust. With your walls accommodating his size, spasming from his girth stretching you, they were eager to have him coat them.

“Just like that,” you mused as he picked up the pace. Your hands gripped at his arms tightly to brace yourself for the increasing collision.

Raw emotions entwining with lustful urges created a symphony of shared euphoria. Your soft, sweet moans transforming into feral grunts were making it difficult not to let go right there and then. However, that need to watch the ecstasy washing over your trembling form kept him from entirely losing control.

“Want a baby?”

“Yes!”

“Want me to cum in you again and again till I knock you up?”

“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” You cried as his thrusts became more ruthless.

Witnessing that euphoric peak wrecking you, your climax covering his cock: it was more than he could bear. With a final thrust, he released deep within your womb—beads of it spilling out of you from the intense brunt.

Holding you there for a moment longer, the both of you basked in the afterglow of your shared passion. With the high subsiding, your tenderness peaked through again.

“You’re going to make such a great father.”

He cuddled you closer and cradled you in his arms, his touch never straying from affectionate. He pressed his lips to the top of your head and lazily stroked your side with his thumb.

“Our child deserves nothing less.”

Crocodile: He’d never put much thought into having a family. That didn’t mean that he was ruling it out entirely but given his line of work, it was far from the ideal environment to raise children. In spite of this, he couldn’t deny the fantasies of you filled to the brim with his cum. If that led to a pregnancy, then so be it.

Being one to hold back on diving head first into fantasies and choosing to weigh the pros and cons of any and every situation, he still had needs. He still had wants, and if there was going to be anyone suited to bear his children, it was you.

Coming to him in your vulnerable state and opening up to him about these fantasies you had only piqued his own. He mulled over how prepared the both of you would be to potentially bring a child into the relationship and decided that whatever happened would be taken care of.

You were, afterall, the one he cherished above all others. Giving into you sweet desires of starting a family with him would be an adventure he wasn’t opposed to.

With the hours he worked, however, it put a pin in the whole thing. He didn’t like it any more than you did, but there wasn’t any chance that he’d cut corners or take extra time off—your escapades would just need to be put on hold for the time being.

Being cooped up in his office all day, the moon holding high in the sky was the only indication for him that perhaps he’d been too absorbed in business. When the door creaked open, he assumed it was one of his employees.

“It’s too late to bother me with anything trivial, you know,” he warned.

When you slipped past the mahogany door, he leaned back and smirked at your attire: a form fitted nightgown with silk fabric that complimented each and every curve which graced your body.

Leaving the doorway, you slowly made your way over to him. Your tired expression was feigned as you asked when he was planning to join you in bed.

Moving back from his desk, he patted his lap. While you made yourself comfortable, he placed his hand on your inner thigh..

“Are you really so needy that you can’t go to bed without me?” he teased.

You let out a deep sigh, playing with the buttons on his vest. “I can’t help it if I sleep better when you’re lying next to me.”

You were such a little minx, weren’t you? Well, if you were so desperate for his attention, he was more than happy to give it to you.

His heart was pounding as he pressed his lips against yours. When you parted yours slightly, he greedily swirled his tongue against yours, which earned him a lust soaked moan.

You parted your legs, allowing him easier access to which he gladly took advantage of. The cool gold of his rings trailing up your thigh sent shivers down your spine. Your breath hitched when his fingers found their way to your folds.

He growled into your kiss. “Not even wearing panties? Such a naughty little thing.”

His teeth grazed your neck, causing your breaths to shake. Having made you wait for as long as he had, your poor needs not being met, he shoved a finger into your weeping pussy and pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit—rubbing it relentlessly.

As you quaked and panted on his lap, his gaze grew darker. With the soft hue of the fireplace and the moonlight peaking through the window, them highlighting your features made him hungrier for you.

The rush of his fingers making you squirm when there were papers of questionable deeds scattered on his desk only made you wilder with lust.

You pawed at his dress-pants, unbuttoning them so you could feel how much he wanted you. After just a few strokes he commanded you to sit on it, which you gladly obeyed.

The girth of his full erection made you cry out. The sudden twinges as your body adjusted caused your back to arch, taking him more easily. With your movements steady and slow, a firm slap on your ass was your incentive to pick up the pace.

Your bounces plunged him deeper and deeper into you, leaving you a trembling mess. Each gasp you made, each plea for him to cum in you and give you the family you so desperately wanted was like music to his ears.

“Don’t worry, dear,” his tone husky from his own release building. “You’ll have your baby. I’ll make sure of it.”

He gripped your hip and took control, thrusting into you with abandon. You collapsed on him, clinging to him for dear life as the sounds of his cock slapping against your wet cunt echoed in the room. When coupled with your sobs of ecstasy, both of your climaxes were just within reach.

With his final thrust sending you over the edge, his own release followed suit. As he pumped each drop into you, the soft gasps passing your lips never failed to add to your allure.

“Now, then,” he said breathlessly. “Will you please go off to bed, so I can finish up here?”

With a firm kiss planted on your temple, you knew you wouldn’t have to wait long for him to join you for the night.

Mihawk: He had entertained the thought of having a child and raising a family before but due to his reputation, it wasn’t exactly a safe environment for them to grow up in. Having a family would mean making them a larger target for enemies, as well—something that he wouldn’t want to burden them with much less himself.

However, when you and him were relaxing under the shade one warm summer’s day, you thought it was the perfect moment to share your wants to start a family with him. Hearing you explain it the way you did, watching your features growing darker to create a faint pull of seduction was eye-opening.

Coming to the realization that you saw this as a kink was, quite frankly, off-putting. Yet, you assured him that you truly did want to have a child with him. Holding his hand in yours, the sincerity wrapping your words was enough to convince him—plus, the image of your little one pitter pattering down the hall was one he wanted to make a reality.

He did his best to set time aside for you, but it wasn’t always something he could promise. With your schedules keeping the both of you in dry spells, some improvisation became more and more appealing to him.

When you were wiping down the counters in the kitchen, the way your hair framed your face and the concentrated expression you were wearing made you that much more beautiful. Seeing you were starting to move on to the dishes, he took you by the hand and pulled you into an embrace.

“Why don’t you let me take care of those later?”

His suave delivery got you nodding slowly. As he swayed you back and forth, brushing your hips together, there was no denying the spark that had been ignited.

With the pools of desire deepening in your eyes, he brought your hand to his lips. Maintaining eye contact as he traced your delicate fingers with light kisses, he kept track of each subtlety that graced your perfect face.

Lacing his fingers with yours, his other hand cupped the small of your back. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You look absolutely ravishing today, my love.”

His hand traveled lower down your back, taking a handful of your backside while pulling you into a searing kiss. As the kiss deepened, your control was quick to wane. With such adoration being passed to each other through parted lips and bated breath, the temptation to take you was all too inviting not to succumb to.

Never breaking your kiss, both of his hands slid up your dress. His fingers gripped the soft skin you kept hidden under the cotton fabric. Slipping his fingers under the waistband of your panties, his hands roamed under your underwear’s surface. Each graze across your ass pulled you deeper into your desires, his teasing touch making your core ache for more.

Pulling away from the kiss, he kept his gaze on yours. As he reached around, pressing you firmly against him, the trembling of your legs was the response he’d been craving.

“It would seem I kept you waiting for too long,” he whispered while soaking his fingers in your throbbing pussy. “My apologies, love.”

As you shook and quaked on his fingers, he lathered your sensitive neck with nips and kisses.

“Dracule,” you breathed. “Make me a mom…wanna have your baby so badly.” Your love-soaked sobs of devotion struck straight through to his core.

He placed one more fiery kiss before promptly bending you over the island counter. You eagerly tugged your dress up, presenting the arousal pooling in the fabric.

Wanting to soak in devine display, he planted his hands on your cheeks, gripping them tightly, kneading and shaking them. With one swift motion, he ripped your underwear down to your knees. A trail of your wetness snapped up from it, causing him to revel at the state you were in.

Gripping his cock, he teased your opening to further hear your sweet whimpers before plunging between your sopping lips. Your body readily accepted him, already desperate for more.

His movements started off steady and deliberate with a clear aim in mind. As he picked up the pace, the sensation of you gripping around him was proving to be a test of his self-control.

“You’re going to make such a beautiful mother.” His words wrapped around you, leaving you breathless.

The harder he slammed into you, the more the chilled countertops adapted to your shared warmth—an offer of a temporary haven to conceive the child you both so desperately wanted.

Your whimpers grew into groans dripping with euphoria, echoing throughout the castle’s kitchen. Clawing at the surface, digging your fingers into it: you could feel yourself teetering on the edge. You gasped and cursed as he hit that sweet spot at just the right moment.

Feeling you clamp around him, pulsating from the velocity of your sudden undoing shattered any remainder of control he thought he still had.

Spilling every ounce of himself into you, the image of the family you were both trying for lingered in your minds. His hands caressed your shaky form, providing a balm for the high you’d just shared.

You eased yourself off of the now warmed counter and pulled him into a kiss which spoke to your unwavering devotion to him.

“Let’s not leave such a long gap next time,” you cupped his face, and he was inclined to agree with you.

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hirayalore · 3 months ago

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Hi :) Can you read "Sirius Black x Mudblood!Slytherin fem!reader" story. It can also be platonic because of the home and blood status of the reader.

Thank you already

[ sirius black x slytherin!reader | fluff | 2.9k words ]

note. hehehe made a few alterations so that it’d make sense why the reader is put into slytherin despite being “muggle-born” since i don’t think a muggle-born would be placed in the said house (i blame my brain for being too invested that i can’t let it pass hsdjhsjdh).

this is also kinda unedited (unfortunately i too am lazy) and went way longer than intended because i couldn’t resist putting in a little backstory!!! ALSO did i mention that this sirius has me on my knees??????

Everybody always wondered how the Sorting Hat decided to put you in Slytherin.

In their eyes and in their mind, you were a Muggle-born—a filthy Mudblood—the exact kind of wizard that Salazar Slytherin detested and insisted not to invite in Hogwarts during its establishment.

Even now when it has been 7 years since the sorting ceremony, you could feel the curious eyes of everybody in the Great Hall whenever it was hard to sleep, could hear how those Slytherins murmured amongst themselves and asked which family you belonged, taking into consideration that the last name you bore didn’t sound familiar nor seemed like it came from the Sacred Twenty-Eight to be worthy of being part of their Hogwarts house.

But what they weren’t aware of—and what you only came to discover yourself many years later during adulthood—is that you actually came from an ancient and noble pure-blood family, a lineage that was acclaimed to be one of the oldest wizarding clans in Britain until its believed downfall in the late 1950s.

It was just that your parents, who have died for a reason that remained to be unknown (yet believed to be the cause of the Dark Lord), left you at the doorstep of an unsuspecting Muggle family just days before their passing, believing that you were safer at the hands of the non-magic folk.

They were right, of course. The Muggle family that raised you did their best in making sure that you were loved and cherished in every way possible. Hence when you received your Hogwarts letter at the age of 11, although they were confused as you were, they did the best they could to support you and lead you to the world they were convinced you always belonged in.

But contrary to your real parents who had great judgment in bringing you to a loving Muggle home, your Muggle parents were misled to think that it would be good for you to be with others like your kind, oblivious to the discrimination and hatred that you faced for merely growing up with non-wizards.

“That’s my seat, Mudblood,” Mallory Flint practically hissed at you upon finding you in the common room, reading on one of the leather sofas with the thought that you could have some peace and quiet even for a day.

You sighed, closing your book.

At this point, you were smart enough not to fight back and give people like Mallory the satisfaction of being affected by their harsh treatment.

However, as you stood up and attempted to walk past her, she grabbed your arm, holding you in place. “You have something you want to say to me, ____?” she taunted, smirking. “You look angry ‘cause I’m making you leave.”

You press your mouth together, your teeth gritting in self-restraint. “No, I’m not angry.”

Her smirk transformed into a sneer. “Is that so?” she said. “Good then–because you should really know by now that there’s no place for people like you here in Slytherin. Or perhaps do you still need a reminder? A little knock on the head to help you with what you’re always forgetting?”

At the word ‘knock’, Mallory tapped your head with the tip of her wand, leaving a slight sting that you couldn’t pretend didn’t exist.

You bit the insides of your cheeks, a scowl casting your features that she noticed.

She raised her eyebrows, understanding now what ticked you off, and without hesitating, tapped your head again, this time harder.

“Seemed like you do need a few little knocks to get your brain working. Must be due to being a Mudblood and all.”

Her minions laughed at the statement, the obnoxious and annoying sound of their laughter leading you to grow more pissed off than you should be.

It must have been that, and your impatience this evening—and the way Mallory didn’t stop sputtering nonsense, and how the initial peace you thought you were granted earlier was stolen, that brought you to abruptly whip your wand out at the motion of her attempting to hit your head again.

She paused, scoffing, eyes growing darker at the manner in which you pointed it in her direction in warning. “You sure you want to do that, ____?”

At your silence, she gave you another sneer and another hard knock.

On the forehead.

You no longer thought twice, your hand was already moving before you could properly think.

With a quick swish of your wand and a whispered incantation, a hex was sent to Mallory’s direction, hitting her on the front of her face and giving her a minor whiplash.

“Bloody—” She began to scream in disbelief at your audacity, but her words cut off as her tongue started to change, elongating and hardening into a horn. It gave her the unsettling appearance of a twisted Pinocchio—only instead of an abnormally long nose, it was her tongue that had transformed.

You couldn’t help but snicker at the ridiculousness of how she looked.

But then Mallory’s friends turned to you (after fussing over their leader who was now red in the face and throwing some sort of tantrum), and you were immediately reminded that this standoff wasn’t over unless they already had their revenge.

So, in sudden fear for your life, you sprinted out of the Slytherin common room as fast as you could, hearing their footsteps follow after you with an even faster speed to catch up.

You had no idea where to go, and you were sure that it was past curfew already given the empty hallways that you darted past through. You kept on thinking of places to hide, of vacant classrooms you could run into for the meanwhile, yet given how your mind was in shambles and playing a loop of Mallory’s tongue turning into a frightening horn, you just couldn’t identify where the best hiding spot could be.

That is until you turned to the left corridor of the seventh floor and spotted a massive door you didn't recall ever seeing, its sight urging you to come closer and come in.

You took a pause, contemplating if it was wise to go inside a room you had a strange feeling about, but at the sound of your bullies’ footsteps getting louder, you deduced that you had no choice and grabbed the door handle, no time for second-guessing.

Quickly stepping inside, you tried to lock the door to prevent them from coming in if ever they realize that this is where you must have gone to.

However, such measures didn’t need to be done because as soon as you were in the darkly lit room, catching your breath and making sense of what was happening—the door began to slowly deteriorate in front of you, slowly being absorbed in the wall and vanishing subsequently.

“Shite,” you whispered, panic bubbling in your system at the realization that you might be trapped here for the whole night.

You took a step back, examining the entirety of the wall, trying to see something that wasn’t there to help you with your case. But there was nothing, only granite or stale or whatever material it was that these stones were made of.

“It’ll come back,” a sudden drawling voice interrupted your inner turmoil and made you freeze on the spot. “I’d say give it a few minutes or so.”

You swiveled around almost immediately, alerted by the presence of another person in this makeshift sanctuary the castle made for you.

The moment you did, your gaze landed ahead to where a boy with dark mid-length hair was leaning forward against the balcony, his back turned to you. You couldn’t see his features clearly, even when he moved his head to the side to reveal a cigarette between his lips—yet the moment he looked in your direction and your eyes met, it dawned on you who this boy was.

Sirius Black, one of the four infamous troublemakers in Gryffindor.

You blinked in surprise while he kept his eyes locked on you, blowing a ring of smoke in the air with unusual ease.

The both of you have never interacted before despite being in the same batch and a few classes since first year. You were sure that the reason behind that was perhaps his great hatred towards Slytherins, as you were no stranger to how he often delivered biting remarks towards Severus Snape and yelled insults to your house at every acceptable opportunity he could find (e.g. Quidditch matches).

Nonetheless, you’ve always been silently thankful that his annoyance towards Slytherin never extended to you, as you reckoned you were already suffering enough with the majority of your housemates alone to deal with another menace like himself.

“I hope you’re not planning to stand there all evening,” he said.

At his comment, you forced yourself to march towards the balcony, not knowing how you should approach this peculiar situation. A part of you was convinced that being here was no better than being out there, but the other part was telling you that Sirius hasn’t hexed you yet so that must be a good sign.

When you reached the balcony, the cool air greeted you and tossed your hair back in the breeze. You squinted a bit, brushing aside the slight burning sensation it gave your eyes, and took in the beauty of the night horizon. You didn’t even think Hogwarts offered such a view, maybe due to how your common room was in dungeons and you were far too much of a coward when it came to extreme heights to reward yourself with this kind of scenery.

You could see the school grounds, the distant ridges of the Scottish Highlands… the Forbidden Forest, the Quidditch Pitch, the Black Lake that appeared serene in the moonlight…

“Wow,” you breathed out, not realizing that you said it loud enough for Sirius to hear.

He glanced at you. Then, his hand suddenly stretched closer to where you were, offering a cigarette with a casual gesture. “You seem like you need it.”

You didn’t know what that meant. Regardless, you took the stick from his possession.

Sirius waited, staring, and upon feeling like you were left with no option but to finish what you started, you hesitantly took a drag, inhaling far too quickly that as soon as the smoke entered your lungs, you were coughing it out—your throat burning and eyes watering alongside it.

A smirk flickered across his face. “You’ve never done that before,” he said, his tone making it very apparent that he was stating a fact and not asking for a confirmation.

You urged him to reclaim the cigarette with haste, still coughing while also fanning the smoke away. “Merlin, why do you lot—” cough, cough— “enjoy that? It’s like gulping down a mouthful of dragon's breath!”

“It can be therapeutic.” He brought it again to his lips and drew deeply on the cigarette, releasing a slow puff of smoke. “And you should have told me you’ve never smoked before. Peer pressure isn’t exactly my style.”

“I wanted to give it a go.”

“Which clearly, you hated.”

“Clearly.” You were still coughing, your mouth awfully tasting like ash.

Sirius grinned. “Well, at least you know better than to take a cigarette without knowing how to smoke next time.”

“Thanks for stating the obvious.”

He watched in obvious amusement as you continued to cough, looking like you wished you could conjure water or whatever it was that would help the itching that you were still feeling inside your throat to go away. It was unlike you to go head on with something so unfamiliar and so… unorthodox as smoking, but there must have been something with the already unpredictable events of this evening or the presence of a mischief-maker as Sirius that coerced you to do it.

You twisted around once you calmed down, returning to your previous position to go back in admiring the starry sky, unbeknownst that Sirius was still staring at you. “Will it really take long before the door appears again?”

“Not too long.” He exhaled the last wisp of smoke away from you, then pressed the cigarette to the cool stone of the balcony, snuffing it out with a slow motion. “Just until the people you’re running from are far enough.”

Heat crept to your face. “I wasn’t running away from people.”

“Sure you weren’t.” That obnoxious smirk made a reappearance on his infuriatingly handsome features. “And I didn’t go here because I was running away from Filch.”

That made you scoff. “You were running away from Filch?”

“Yeah. James and I put Dungbombs in his office.” He seemed proud. “Then we almost got caught, and James ran back to the Gryffindor Tower while I went here to my favorite hiding spot.”

You looked at your surroundings, pretty much confused on which part of the castle you were supposed to be. “Where are we exactly?”

“No clue.” Sirius shrugged, unbothered by the fact that he indeed didn’t have a clue on where you two were exactly. “Only thing I know about this place is that it’s here whenever I need it. The first time I found it, it was last year when I was sneaking out at night and almost ran into Professor McGonagall.”

“Of course, you were.” You mumbled.

“So, who is it?” He asked, going back to the main topic, curious. “Was it Filch too?”

You shook your head. “No, it wasn’t Filch.”

“A professor?”

“No.”

“An ex-boyfriend?”

A snort. “No.”

“Then who?”

You sighed, relenting on just disclosing who the person was since you reckoned it wasn’t information that needed to be kept secret at all cost anyways. “It was Mallory Flint—well, her minions, actually—but it’s because of her. Always been. I’m sure you’re well aware of who she is.”

“I am.” He narrowed his eyes, pretending to think. “She’s that Slytherin girl who looks like she might have been conceived from a troll, isn’t she?”

The unforeseen insult caused you to laugh out loud, your laughter slightly echoing in the walls. “Yes, you are absolutely right.”

Sirius laughed as well. “What’d she do?”

“Oh, you know, the standard. Insulting me, taunting me, rubbing it in my face that I’m a—” You abruptly stopped yourself, this sense of awareness that you were babbling too much hitting you hard.

This was Sirius Black for Merlin’s sake. He hated Slytherins, and you knew that he came from a lineage of respectable pure-blood wizards too (qualities of his that were awfully contradicting). Venting about the discrimination you constantly faced and the bullying you had to endure since you stepped foot in this school might not be the smartest decision to make.

“A Muggle-born.” He finished for you.

You swallowed hard. “Yeah. That.”

“Typical. They always think that they’re bloody above everybody else.”

“You don’t think the same?” you asked. “I mean, you’re not much different than they are.”

Sirius scowled at that, like the implication of your words offended him. “Being a pure-blood is not something worth flaunting about.”

“It doesn’t look like it to other people.”

“Well,” he breathed in deeply, gray eyes flickering to the view ahead, “those kinds of people have nothing to brag about other than being a pure-blood. A bit tragic if you come to think of it.”

“I suppose.” Your fingers were absentmindedly scratching the material of your robes. “So, does that mean you have other things to brag about other than being in the noble house of Black?” You then added with a tease.

His lips curved up, displaying an expression that showed a combination of a smirk and grin. “Obviously. With a face like mine, do you really think anyone sees me and immediately thinks about my bloodline?”

The confidence, the way he looked at you, and the fact that he was goddamn correct made you blush. It led you to be speechless for a good minute, staring at him and his face that really could make anyone forget about his last name—something that you know he notices with how his grin takes its full form.

However, before he could comment about it and make you wish that the ground would swallow you whole, his gaze shifted to the doors, and you followed suit, exhaling in relief as the exit reappeared, granting you a chance to escape.

“Uh, I should go,” you said immediately, a statement that he raised an eyebrow at in obvious amusement. “Wouldn’t want to be caught or anything.”

“Sure, love. You do that.”

You ignored the hard beat of your heart. “And you? You’ll stay?”

“For a few minutes more, yeah.”

“Alright. Well…” You trailed, already inching towards the door. “Bye, then.”

You muttered curses under your breath as you made a run for it towards the doors, scolding yourself for appearing like a damn fool in front of Sirius. You were certain that he was making fun of you in his head, or that he was going to tell this encounter to James Potter, or that when you wake up tomorrow, your housemates will find another reason to torment you because of being chummy with a Gryffindor like Sirius.

“Hey, ____.”

You stopped in your tracks. Not only because he called your name, but because you were shocked that he even knew it in the first place.

With a slow turn, you saw him leaning backwards against the balcony, elbows supporting him.

“Hm?” You tried to act nonchalant.

He tilted his head slightly, smiling smugly, and carried on uttering the words that you’d come to replay in your mind over and over again.

“Same time tomorrow?”

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

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