#she has truly rotted my brain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

not-neverland06 · 9 months ago

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n a s t y d o g I logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've never felt this way about a fictional character before. Every gif I see of him has me gnawing and biting at the bars of my enclosure. I want to bite him. If Hugh Jackman ever discovered what thoughts lurk inside my rotted brain about him he'd get a restraining order. This isn't OKAY Anyways... Summary: You'd thought you'd had a good thing going with Logan. You weren't officially anything to each other, but you were getting close. You truly saw a future with him, but he made it incredibly clear he did not feel the same 18+ HATE FUCKING (MDNI)

(one chance please, just one chance with him)

“Are you sure this isn’t totally clingy girlfriend of me?”

Ororo gives you an irritated look and Jean laughs. “Not at all, Scott loves it when I surprise him like this.” You’re all huddled in your room, each of you in varying stages of getting ready. Jean is finishing off her eyeliner at your vanity, Ororo is putting on her boots, and you’re trying to decide between a skirt and a dress.

You’re not entirely sure how, or why, Logan and Scott decided to go to the bar together tonight. You suspect it has something to do with Jean. She wants them to start getting along so there’s less friction when you’re all around each other.

At Jean’s idea, Logan had muttered, “When hell freezes over,” in your ear before he had left for the night. You’d gotten a little antsy without him to entertain you and had mistakenly blurted out the idea of going to visit them. Ororo had been dying to get out of the house and Jean was a little worried about her boyfriend as well. They’d agreed to go along with you and you’ve felt a weight in your stomach ever since.

Your relationship with Logan was relatively new. Hell, a month ago you’d thought he’d hated you the same he did Scott. You’d, of course, been proven wrong when you’d had a few drinks with him and things had taken a very physical turn.

You weren’t sure if he’d just wanted a one-night stand or something serious. But when you’d tried to sneak out the next morning and he’d muttered a grumpy, “Where’re you going?” You’d gotten your answer.

You hadn’t been on any real dates, there didn’t ever seem to be time for them. But you spent most of your days together. Sometimes just silently enjoying each other’s company, other times you would be holed up in one of your rooms cuddling. The thought always brings a stupid lovesick grin to your face.

It’s one of your first real relationships and you’re worried that things are moving a little too fast. At least on your end. You can already tell that you’re falling for him. Headfirst into the deep end of love. And it’s terrifying because you truly cannot tell what he thinks about you. Clearly, he likes you. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t let you follow him around like a lost puppy.

But he’s never truly said anything to you. There’s no official label as to what you two are. You say girlfriend off-handly and you usually don’t mean it when you reference yourself. You’ve never outright said he’s your boyfriend and he’s never really claimed you. He’s made it explicitly clear he doesn’t want you sleeping with other men, and you’ve said the same to him about women. You both agreed on that, but…

You kind of drive yourself crazy trying to figure this out. He’s not vocal about his feelings and everything’s still new so you don’t like pressuring him. You also worry that if you push him too far he’ll just get tired of you and move on. It’s not fair to assume that of him, and you know everything would be better if you just talked to him. But you’re scared. You’re scared the conversation will take the wrong direction and everything will blow up in your face.

Jean calls your name and your head shoots up to see both Ororo and Jean looking at you expectantly. You flush when you realize they must have been talking to you and you’d just completely zoned out thinking about Logan.

“Huh?” You blurt out, cringing at how dumb you sound.

Jean gives you a concerned look, “I can practically taste your anxiety.” The telepath frowns and offers you a comforting smile. “Don’t worry about it, I promise, Logan won’t mind at all.”

“You’re fine,” Ororo adds, because clearly the look on your face screams, I need constant validation. They’re not wrong, but still, you hate feeling like an exposed bundle of nerves. “Think of it as girl’s night, the boys just happen to be there.”

You force a smile on your face and give your most enthusiastic nod. You change into the dress and finish up with your hair. You finally start chatting with them again, engaging so it might disguise just how nervous you feel.

There’s this clenching feeling, traveling from your stomach up to your chest. It makes you sick, makes you hurt. And it’s not because you think Logan will be upset with you for crashing. He’d be relieved, if anything. There’s something else. Premonition isn’t one of your abilities, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that now.

The bar is loud when you walk in. The soles of your shoes immediately start to stick to the floor and your nose screws up in disgust at the loud laughter coming from around the pool tables. You glance around, trying to see if you can spot Logan.

You’d say you could spot him in any crowd. But has a propensity to hunker down and try to attract as little attention as possible so people don’t bother him. “There he is,” Jean taps your shoulders and points to the two men at the end of the bar.

Like you’d thought, Logan is hunched over his whiskey, glowering down at the wood under him like it had insulted him. You almost want to laugh at the sight. Some of the earlier anxiety eases its grip on you and you feel your shoulders begin to untense.

Before you can walk over Ororo grabs Jean’s wrist. “Gotta go to the bathroom,” she tugs Jean behind her.

Jean looks over her shoulder at you and smiles encouragingly, “Go to them, we’ll catch up in a second.” You give her a tentative nod and slip through the crowd. There are more people here than you thought there would be.

You’re happy not to spot any kids in the crowd. You’ve had a few too many nights out crashed by kids who thought they were good at sneaking out.

It’s easy enough not to spot you or the other women in the crowd. Mutants have gotten good at blending in with the people around them. Makes it easier to get around. It’s probably why neither Logan nor Scott stop their conversation as you approach. “So,” Scott draws the word out, fingers tapping against the glass of his beer.

“Don’t,” Logan warns. You want to laugh at his grumpy demeanor, but someone’s accidentally elbowed you and you find yourself stumbling a few steps back. It’s taking entirely too long to get to them, the bar isn’t even that big. There’s just that many people here.

Scott ignores him and rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re stuck here for a while. Try and pull that stick out of your ass.”

“How about I put one in yours?” Logan’s claws come out slightly. But then they both share an odd look and Scott smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” Logan grouses, “not like that.”

“Right,” Scott huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He picks up his bottle and takes a long drink. You’ve nearly reached them now. You stop, though, when you hear Scott say your name. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t. Eavesdropping now is just asking to get hurt.

You drop back into the crowd, hoping the smells of others will stop Logan from discovering you lurking behind them both. Scott continues, “How’s that going?”

You crane your neck forward, trying to hear them better over the karaoke happening behind you. Someone is butchering Britney Spears but you couldn’t care less right now. Logan shouldn’t answer. Since when has he ever shared anything with Scott?

So, imagine your surprise when his answer isn’t immediately telling him to fuck off. “Eh,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey. Your face drops in irritation. Seriously, all this skulking around for an Eh? That’s bullshit.

You keep yourself from stepping forward, forcing your feet still, and ignoring the little voice in the back of your head telling you this is a bad idea. You’ve committed this much, you’re seeing it through. Scott whistles lowly, “That bad, huh?” Oh, fuck off, Summers.

Logan shakes his head and for a moment you have a brief feeling of hope lifting you up. “Nah, not bad. It’s just, I don’t know.” Logan sits up and signals the bartender for a refill. Your snooping senses go off and you briefly see Ororo and Jean exiting the bathroom. Desperate for something to keep them at bay, you flick your wrist. The man in front of them tips his drink down Jean’s shirt, slurring out apologies. Jean huffs and Ororo brings her back into the bathroom.

Scott and Logan somehow missed the whole interaction and you promise yourself that you’ll pay for Jean’s dry cleaning. You’re definitely not going to. “Think she wants something I don’t,” Logan tells Scott, and your heart plummets to your feet. You can practically see it deflate, all the lovesickness draining out of it and onto the floor of this grimy bar.

“Like, she just wants to fuck around?”

Logan shakes his head and downs another glass of whiskey. He’s just swallowing it down like it’s water. At a certain point, the bartender gets sick of it and just leaves him with the bottle. “No, she wants something real. Like a real relationship.” Scott’s brows furrow and Logan shrugs. “Not interested.”

It’s the way he says it that really bothers you. There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different in a relationship. It happens all the time. But he says it so dismissively. He knows that you want something real with him, something secure and loving. He knows that, continues to fuck you and lead you on, and then speaks as though you’re an idiot for ever being interested in that.

Hurt hasn’t set in yet. You’re staring wide-eyed, jaw agape with shock as you stare at Logan’s back. You’d thought a conversation needed to be had. But you didn’t think that he thought of you like this. You’d thought you meant something to him.

Scott seems to share the sentiment, his lips tugged down into a frown. He leans against the bar, surveying Logan with a disbelieving look. “What?” Logan snaps.

Scott raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head and backing off. “Nothing, man, I just thought you two were serious about each other.” You miss whatever Logan says as an arm slings itself around your shoulder.

“What’re you doing?” A husky, seductive voice whispers against the shell of your ear. You jump in shock, glaring at Ororo as she grins at you. She lets her arm slide off your shoulders and glances over at Jean. “I think she was spying.”

Jean nods, nudging you forward. “Definitely spying. Hear anything good?”

You fortify your mind against her probing fingers before she can find out. “Nope,” you blurt out. You hope the racing of your heart is dismissed by your constantly frazzled nature. You hope the look on your face is explained by your earlier boredom and anxiety. You pray that none of them notice the way you lean away from Logan when the men finally turn around and notice you all.

Scott breathes out a dramatic sigh of relief and slumps onto Jean. “Thank god, I thought I was going to die trying to talk to this brick wall.” his eyes flick towards you in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. There’s a brief pitying look before he grins. “Come to get your boyfriend?” There’s a heavy emphasis on the word that you never would have noticed had you not heard their conversations.

It’s clearly a petty dig at Logan. And you would appreciate it if you didn’t feel the sudden urge to vomit up your dinner. “Thought you might need saving from Logan.” You tell him, a chuckle hiding the slight tremor in your voice.

You’re not sure if he does, but you hope Logan notices how you avoided the word boyfriend. You hope that he hurts the same way you do. But you know, deep down, that he doesn’t care. He’s probably relieved that you didn’t use the title.

Logan gets off his stool, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, and pulls you into a brief hug. His lips press against your temple before he dips down to whisper, “Thank you,” in your ear.

Asshole, he’s not allowed to smile at you the way he is. If you weren’t in such a crowded place and already overstimulated, you’d shove him away. If your friends weren’t watching you’d take his arm and slam it down onto the bar until you hear his fucking adamantium bones break.

That might have been too far. Maybe you’re not that angry, but you’re hurt.

You place your hands against his chest, a thin smile on your lips while you hum a simple, “Mhm.” He doesn’t seem to notice the way you push away from him. It’s easily dismissed by you cheekily stealing his seat at the bar.

He comes up behind you, hands bracketing you and keeping you stuck against the bar while you order your drink. One of his hands drifts down, laying against your thigh. You know this isn’t sexual, this is him comforting you.

He shouldn’t know how horrible you feel in such busy places. He shouldn’t know that and know that his touch is grounding and then help you. Not if he doesn’t want something serious. If he didn’t want to be your boyfriend, didn’t want to be anything but a fuck, then why do this to you? Did he not think this was leading you on? Is this just him caring for you?

You’ll drown in a sea of unanswered questions before the night is over if you linger too long. You tip your head back, let your shot burn its way down your throat, and turn towards the others with a smile. You feel your worries fade and your focus loosen as you simply drift further into your mind.

You must have disassociated or something. By the time you realize you’re no longer hearing bad karaoke and your elbows aren’t sticking to the bar, you’re already home. You stare in the mirror, hand pausing as you brush your teeth before you quickly finish.

You didn’t drink much, you never do. It fucks with your abilities and causes migraines. You rinse your mouth out and glance into your bedroom. Logan groans and stretches. His back bows, muscles flexing and you rip your eyes away. You can’t let yourself be distracted by the chest you want to drape yourself across.

You need to talk to him. It’s never been more clear. You wipe your mouth and toss the towel onto the rim of the sink. You take in a deep breath, trying to get rid of the nerves plaguing you. It’s never worked before, it’s not going to suddenly cure you now.

You give up on the thought and instead, shove down the anxiety until you have enough confidence to speak. It takes a little while, Logan peaks an eye open, eyebrows quirked when he sees you just staring at him. “Something up, bub?” he flexes, on purpose, and you roll your eyes. You grab his shirt out of your hamper and toss it at him.

“Put this on. Can’t think when you look like that.”

He chuckles, “That’s the point.” at your pointed glare his smile drops and he tugs the beater on. It barely does anything to deter you. If anything you’re having more trouble paying attention. Especially now that his full attention is on you. The humor is gone from the room, a thick tension replaces it. Logan seems to feel it, sitting up straighter and glaring at you like he’s trying to read your mind. “What’s wrong?” It’s a demand more than a question.

It’s hard to look at him. But you refuse to let yourself cower now. You take in a fortifying breath and let your gaze bore into his. You put all the hurt and anger you feel into it, willing yourself to be firm. “We need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?” He’s brusque, but there’s a slight concern to his tone.

There’s no point hiding this. And maybe you had misheard, maybe there was a conversation prefacing the one you’d heard. And you’ll talk it out and everything will be okay. “I heard you and Scott talking at the bar.”

The hope you had, as minimal as it was, is dashed at your feet. He sucks in a deep breath and the look on his face has you crestfallen. You can feel your chest cave in. You feel so stupid all of a sudden. Constantly following after him, even before you started dating him. Looking at him with stars in your eyes and latching onto his every move and word.

You’d worshiped him, put him up on a pedestal he didn’t deserve. Superhuman or not, at the end of the day he was still a man. And they’ve done nothing but disappoint you. You suck your teeth, gaze dropping to your feet as you fight back the tears in your eyes. “Right,” you whisper, stepping back from him.

“Look,” he starts. You force your eyes up and watch as he rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck. He takes a step towards you and you shake your head, stepping away from him. His arms fall to his sides and he sighs. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“That’s it?” You demand, tone incredulous. You weren’t some great love or anything. But that’s seriously all he has to say.

He opens his mouth, eyes softening as he stares at you. Then he snaps it shut, something covers his face and his expression is borderline cruel as he sneers at you. “Not my fault you got in over your head, kid. Never said I wanted anything more with you.” He points at you, and you suddenly feel like a little girl getting scolded. You’ve never had a partner make you feel this small, especially not Logan. “You were just convenient.”

You rear back like he slapped you. You think it might have hurt less than that. To know you wasted so much time on such a fucking dick makes you want to throw up. Or scream, or cry. You can’t decide on one. But your powers can, the walls are shaking, knick-knacks falling off your shelves as energy pulses from you.

You’ll face the hurt, the sadness, the horrible ache of rejection later. Right now, you need him out of your face before you bring the whole mansion crumbling down around you. “Out.” You grind the word out, turning away from him and clutching your hands to your chest. You take in quick, rapid breaths, trying to think of anything other than how horrible you feel.

You haven’t lost control like this in a long time. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being the reason you get put on probation again. He whispers your name, coming up behind you like he’s going to touch you.

You want to lash out, want to hurt him like he’s hurt you. But you’ll only cause more damage than necessary. He’s not worth hurting the kids in the rooms around you. You shove past him, ignoring the way he shouts your name.

You dart out into the hall, grateful there are so few people milling around. Nearly everyone’s asleep, just a few stragglers finishing up their homework for tomorrow. A few of them give you odd looks that turn concerned when they see Logan chasing after you. Your bones are practically vibrating by the time you make it outside.

You rush towards the grove of trees at the back of the mansion. Your knees give out under you before you can make it very far. Energy pulses out of you in an explosive circle. You hear bark crack and turn into nothing but dust as the air around you trembles.

It’s a relief, like going to the bathroom after holding it all day. You feel it drain away from you, a plug pulled out as the energy rushes from you. It slows after a minute, feeling more like a leak than a steady stream.

Your hands shake by your sides as you lay trembling on the grass. Your eyelids flutter shut and you try and keep them open but it’s hard. All of your energy had been spent keeping yourself in check until you made it out of the mansion.

“I’ve got you,” a voice mutters near your ear. Familiar strong arms dip under your knees, lifting you up and pulling you into a sturdy chest. You recognize the body, recognize the uncomfortable warmth coming from him. But your tongue won’t work and you're passing out before you can try and push him away.

You’re in your own bed when you wake up again. You’re briefly comforted by the warm feeling of the sheets around you before you realize how cold the other side of the bed is. You’re so used to the feeling of someone being beside you that it’s jarring for no one to be there. You sit up, a spark of anxiety lighting up inside you before it’s being quelled by an outside force.

“I think it’s best if we keep that under control.” You’re not surprised to hear Charles’s voice. You can’t be, not when he’s actively keeping you calm and placid. You lean back against your headboard. You tilt your head lazily, looking at him while he looks out the window.

“That tree was a hundred years old.”

You wince, face screwing up when you remember the large oak tree you obliterated last night. “I can remake it,” you promise.

“You could,” he corrects, “but whatever happened last night between you and Logan is causing your powers to be volatile.” He finally turns towards you, the motor of his wheelchair a dull buzz as he smiles at you. There’s no resentment in his gaze at least. You’d known he wouldn’t be mad at you. He was used to accidents like this. Had you hurt another person, however, this would be an entirely different conversation.

There’s a dull ache in your chest at the mention of Logan, but it’s quickly covered by another wave of calm from Charles. He smiles and holds out two metal bracelets. They’re thick, something red inlaid into the black metal. They look like handcuffs more than anything. His lips quirk up at your thought and you frown.

“That’s what they are, right? Cuffs.”

“You’re not a criminal,” he assuages, his tone gentle as you take them from him. There’s a small silver button inside that you click and the metal springs open. You place your left wrist inside and it snaps shut, it’s a snug fit. It won’t be moving around anytime soon. You put the right one on and feel Charles’ hold on your mind ease the second it's closed. Every horrible feeling from last night crashes down on you and you nearly choke on it.

You wonder how Charles managed to keep you asleep for so long without the roof crumbling. He chuckles, the noise tired. “Jean helped me. It took a while for the cuffs to be ready.”

The way he says that causes alarms to go off in your head. “How long?” He takes in a sharp breath and shakes his head, attempting to dismiss the question. “Charles,” you snap, voice bordering on a shout.

“Two days,” he says. You gasp and slump back against your sheets. He says your name but you get to your feet and pace. You don't know what to do with yourself. There’s energy buzzing under your skin, but the cuffs are keeping it at bay. It feels wrong like your pores are being clogged with acid.

“Two days.” You look over at him, horror painting your face and you can see why he was so apprehensive to tell you. “It’s never been that bad before.”

“No,” he starts cautiously, “It hasn’t. Which makes me wonder, what transpired between you and Logan that destroyed my grandfather’s tree?”

You cringe at the mention of the tree. He’s never going to let go of that. Even when you recreate it, he’s still going to hold it over your head. His teasing eases you out of the spiral you were heading down and you glance over at him. “You’ve been in my head for two days. I’m sure both you and Jean already know.”

He smacks his lips together and shrugs, clasping his hands in front of himself. “Simply seeing if you wanted to discuss it, my dear.”

You vehemently shake your head and sit back down on your bed. “No, I don’t want to talk about him. I don't want to see him.” Charles gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you and you hate it. You truly don’t want to see Logan again. Just thinking about him makes you want to explode. He was a pig and you regret ever wasting your time on him.

There’s a shriveled part of your heart weeping somewhere, but you crush in your fist until it shuts the fuck up. “Right,” Charles nods. “I do believe it’s best for your recovery that we keep you two separated for a while.” He rolls past you and places a comforting hand on yours. “Rest, you’ll feel more like yourself soon.”

You nod and watch him leave. Exhaustion suddenly seems to drop its heavy weight on your shoulders. Two days being restrained by telepaths probably wasn’t very restful. You lay across your comforter, rolling over and hoping when you wake up your heart will be healed.

Two weeks. Two pathetic, snot-filled, and disgusting weeks of sobbing over Logan. You felt like a sixteen-year-old again, crying over the boy that didn’t like you back. It was awful, especially knowing that the entirety of the mansion knew what was wrong with you.

Your students would leave your class and you would lock your doors, hiding under your desk as you wept. Those with superhearing or telepathy would bake you cookies and leave gifts at your door. It was sweet, but honestly made you feel ten times worse. You felt like your sadness was a burden you were forcing everyone to carry.

Your mother would be so disappointed in you. She’d always told you that you mourn a relationship half the amount of time you were in it. Of course, hers never lasted more than a few weeks. And she’d had more boyfriends than you could count on three hands.

Besides, you were allowed to wallow for a while. This was someone you were starting to fall for. To be so blind going into and leaving the relationship was awful. Having the rug ripped out from under you had been cruel and needless. You’re resentful and grateful he’d been so horrifically honest with you. On one hand, if the relationship had just ended, you’d be pining after him. Wondering what you’d done to lose such an amazing guy.

But being faced with the brutal truth, knowing he was a piece of shit, it makes you hate yourself. You should have seen it. Should have known that he didn’t want you like you wanted him. But there were never any signs. You’d run it through your head a million times. Every interaction you’ve ever had with him. None of it shows you where he’d been lying to you or using you. You can’t even trust yourself anymore.

There’s a loud knock on your door and you sniffle, tossing another tissue in the trash as you go to answer it. “Hello?” You croak. You can barely see, eyes puffy and so swollen your vision is blurry.

“Holy hell,” Ororo scoffs and shakes her head. She pushes into your room and slams the door shut before anyone can see how awful you look. To be fair, you keep yourself relatively put together during the day. But it’s after hours now, you’re allowed to be a mess.

“You look like shit.”

Neither of you are prepared as you begin to blubber. Your lips tremble and your voice shakes as you begin to sob. “I know,” you wail. “I hate it.” Ororo’s eyes widen in horror and she quickly pushes you into your desk chair, grabbing a box of tissues and shoving it in your hands.

“I feel,” you stutter, having to take in a few shuddering breaths before you can get the words out. “He tore out my heart and ripped it up with his stupid fucking claws.”

“Okay, okay,” Ororo runs her hands over your arms, trying to soothe you. “I know, sh, it’s okay.” She groans, “Stop crying,” she pleads under her breath.

“I’m trying!” You snap at her, running hands over your wet cheeks and trying to swallow down the rest of your tears.

“Look,” she steps back and shakes her head. She glances down at you, disgust poorly hidden on her face. She’s really fucking bad at comforting someone. “This is awful, I can’t take it anymore. You two keep dancing around each other and you’re putting everyone on edge. You won’t stop crying and he keeps going off,” she holds her hands up and shakes her head. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

You frown, brows turning down in confusion. “What?” You didn’t think Logan would be mad. You pictured him skipping through a field of daisies, happy to finally be rid of you. It only made you hate yourself more that you were still crying over it all.

“He’s kind of losing it,” she seems reluctant to relent the information. “Look,” she kneels in front of you and snatches the tissue box from your hand. She tosses it to the side and forces you to meet her eyes. “He’s in love with you. We all know it, Jean’s confirmed it. He loves you, he needs you, he’s just terrified to admit it. He’s afraid of what's going to happen if you two become real.”

Your eyes widen with the realization. She nods enthusiastically as you connect the pieces. You can’t deny what’s so plainly laid in front of you when she assures you that even Jean knows. Jean knowing means she just did a nosy dive into his head.

You can picture what could happen. With rom-com levels of nauseating romance, you run to find him. You tell him you don’t care that he’s afraid. You don’t care he pushed you away and you do love him. He’s not going to lose you. Nothing can rip you apart. You ride off into the sunset on Scott’s bike blah blah blah.

This isn’t a fucking romance. And you’re not going to cry over a man who's too much of a pussy to admit he has feelings. You like men who have emotional depth deeper than a teaspoon. “Are you fucking kidding me?"

Ororo’s face blanches and she slowly backs away from you as you stand. “No,” she answers slowly, like she’s not sure of herself now.

“That’s what I’ve been crying over?” You feel upset for an entirely different reason. You never misread the signs. You never missed a hint that he didn’t feel what you did. He did! He was just happier letting you doubt yourself and the love you held for him than admitting he felt something. You tear off the depression hoodie you’ve been living in for the past two weeks. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

You don’t know where you’re going. Normally, you’d run into a forest to let out a blast of energy. It drained you enough that you wouldn’t have to feel anything. But with these cuffs on, you can’t do anything.

You storm out of your room and stomp down the stairs, uncaring who you wake up. You’ve wasted so much time on Logan, you refuse to stay in your room and cry for another fucking night.

“I want to see her,” Logan growls. He tries to move around Charles, but he stops him with his mind, holding him in place while Jean disappears inside your room. Logan watches her go and glares at her retreating back as the door closes behind her.

It’s been a day already, you’ve never needed to be out for more than a few hours. He doesn’t want to think that there’s anything wrong with you, that he might have permanently broken something inside you.

That talk at the bar with Scott had been stupid. He would have said anything to get him to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. He didn’t really mean what he said, he just wanted him to back off. And saying that your relationship wasn’t anything was quicker than pouring out every thought he’s had of you.

It was easier lying than it was to admit just how much he wanted you. Just how far he would go for you. But then you’d overheard, and you brought it up. And there’d been faith on your face. Like even you couldn’t believe what he had said because you could see through the bullshit.

But all Logan had seen was a way out. This was an opportunity to finally get out of the suffocating clutches of something he didn’t want to admit was love. He took the chance before he could think. It’s what he was used to. Taking the easy way out, especially when it came to shit like emotions.

He hadn’t thought you were going to explode, though. Because that’s exactly what you’d done. By the time he’d caught up to you, you’d burned a crater into the ground and had destroyed Charles’ stupid fucking tree.

Seeing you like that, laying there lifeless, it terrified him. He didn’t want to live in a world that you weren’t in. There was no fucking point. It was sobering, realizing that, and then realizing that he was the reason you were like that in the first place.

He didn’t want to live without you and he certainly would never be able to come to terms with being the reason you were dead. But it didn’t matter, whatever realizations he was coming to. Charles and Jean were completely blocking him from your room. They weren’t even giving him a chance to look at you. And he was about five seconds away from ripping the old bastard’s head off and just barrelling inside.

He didn’t care what they said, he needed to see that you were okay. “I’m afraid you’re not going to be able to see her for a very long time.”

“Stay out of my head,” Logan growls, glaring down at the man. “What are you talking about?” He presses, finally processing the rest of his sentence.

Charles sighs and rolls away from him. Logan glares at his back but ultimately follows. “You were the cause of this, yes?” Reluctantly, Logan nods, there’s no point in hiding it. He’s sure Charles already knows. “For her own safety, the two of you will need to remain separated.”

That had been it. There was no arguing about it. No fighting Charles. It was for your safety that he stayed away from you. No matter how much he wanted to explain himself, he wouldn’t risk another meltdown like that.

You didn’t deserve to get hurt because of someone like him. He wouldn’t be able to stand hurting you again.

But two weeks seemed like a lot. At a certain point, he’s sure you’re just avoiding him. He knows he can’t blame you. He’d been a fucking idiot. But that didn’t make him any happier. If anything, he was getting more and more pissed off every day.

He had less patience for mistakes. Was lashing out at the kids more often and don’t even get started on the petty fucking fights he was picking with Scott. How long did you fucking need before you talked to him again?

He knows you’re upset, your crying keeps everyone up at night. Something he’s sure you’d be mortified to learn about. Why won’t you let him comfort you? Why do you have to be so petulant, running around the corner every time you see him? Pointedly ignoring him when you’re in the same room together.

He could fix this, make this all better. But you’re just not letting him. He knows this is why he loves you. It’s why he was so drawn to you. You seem like a bundle of nerves, constantly flitting around and keeping yourself small. It had been off-putting at first. And then he’d seen you training with Scott, kicking his ass more like. A switch had been flicked in his head.

He could finally see you for what you were. He finally realized that it was your abilities you were keeping small. You were a fucking spitfire and you didn’t hesitate to tell him off, he loved it. Loved arguing with you just so he could see you get all pissed off.

But that stubborn attitude he loved was really biting him in the ass right now.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he doesn’t even get to pretend it’s going to be you. He smells Jean’s perfume and rolls his eyes. He puffs on his cigar and contemplates ignoring her.

“Don’t be a jackass, open the damn door.”

Fuckin’ telepaths. “What?” He snaps at her the second the door is open. Her face screws up when she smells the smoke from his cigar. He knows she wants to put it out, and can see it in the twitch of her fingers. He raises a brow, a silent challenge to try him. He’s itching for another fight and she can feel it.

She lets out a sharp breath, choosing her battles wisely and backing off. He’s almost disappointed. “We need to talk. This whole thing between the two of you is ridiculous. You’re a mess, she’s a mess…”

Her voice trails off into nothing more than the annoying pitch of a fly. Logan can’t be bothered to listen to her scold him. He’s not a fucking kid, and maybe if you were acting like an adult, they wouldn’t be having this problem.

A few doors down he can hear you shouting, then the door to your room slams open. He darts off his bed, opening his own door to see what you’re doing. He only sees the back of your head as you angrily stomp down the stairs.

Enough is fucking enough, he was finishing this now. He was sick of your side of the bed being empty and the stupid fucking glare on your face every time you saw him. He doesn’t even bother saying anything to Jean as he leaves, just chases after you.

Jean watches him go with a perturbed look. She steps out of the room and glances down the hall. Ororo steps out of your room and walks towards her. “Well?” Jean probes.

Ororor shrugs, “She’s over it.” Jean smiles but it’s quickly wiped off her face by Ororo’s expression. “Not in the way we wanted.

Jean clenches her eyes shut and takes in a deep breath. She needs you two to figure your shit out or she’s never going to be able to get a good night’s sleep again.

You find yourself in the gym. It’s not your favorite place in the world, you don’t usually get to train with the others. You’re stuck with telepaths, mainly the ones who can shut your powers down if you get too out of control. That hasn’t been a problem since you got the cuffs, but you’ve been too sad to test them out.

Now you find yourself obliterating a punching bag. You wrap the energy around your fists and let it protect the thin skin as you pummel into the bag. You don’t know what else to do. You can’t have energy meltdowns anymore. You have to try and funnel it all out physically, but it’s not working. Nothing is.

“Imagining it’s me?” You pause midswing. You glance over to the door just in time to see Logan stalking towards you. He unzips his jacket slowly. So slowly it almost seems provocative. He tugs it off and tosses it onto a nearby bench.

You scoff as you watch him. “Do you ever have a shirt on?”

He shrugs and moves towards the ring in the middle of the gym. His movements are lithe and fluid as he hops onto the ring, every bit a wild animal. You watch as the muscles in his torso ripple and force your eyes off of him. You try and focus your attention back on the bag, but all your earlier energy is gone. Your mind is completely wrapped around Logan.

Which you’re sure is exactly what he wants, or he wouldn’t be staring at you so smugly as he leans against the ropes and waits for you to acknowledge him. You suck on your teeth, irritation blooming in sporadic bursts throughout your body that has you nearly shaking. Finally, you give in.

He smirks the second your eyes meet, “I can take it, sweetheart. A lot better than that little toy of yours can.” He nods towards the punching bag but the insinuation isn’t lost on you. You and Logan had been very active in your relationship. You could barely go a day without tasting each other.

You’ve been pent up since the breakup. You’d given in a few days ago, pulled out your old vibrator, and tried to bring even a semblance of joy back into your life. But nothing could compare to Logan.

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips as he waits for you to react. He’s standing there, staring down at you with all the surety in the world that you’re going to fuck him. It makes you want to dig your nails in and rip him apart, bit by bit.

You can already picture it in your mind, using your abilities to pick him apart until he’s nothing but molecules dispersed through the air. He’s lucky you have the cuffs on, without them you’re sure he’d already be dead.

You smirk and move towards the edge of the ring, your voice drops as you purr up at him, “You wanna play, Logan?”

He grins and moves off the ropes, starting towards you as you make your way onto the ring. You’re slightly less graceful than he was, but you’re too focused on wiping the smug look off his face to pay attention. “Come on kid,” he taunts, voice as low as it usually is when he’s fucking into you. “Let’s see what you got.”

You’re not stupid enough to just outright swing at him. You feint to the right and bring your knee up into his ribs. He only needs one hand to wrap around your thigh and drag you forward. His other hand goes to your hip, tugging you closer until you’re practically grinding against each other. You grit your teeth and glare up at him.

“Come on, sweetheart, that can’t be all you got for me.” Energy wraps around your head, blurring the air around you. You slam your temple against his, it provides enough of a distraction for you to yank your leg out of his grip. You throw your right fist into his ear, bouncing back with a grin as he shakes his head.

He practically growls as he reorients himself. You shrug and smirk, “What, don’t tell me that’s all you got, wolvie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” he grumbles. You open your mouth, prepared to taunt him again. But he’s lunging towards you and you just barely have enough time to dart out of his way. You know he’s going easy on you. He could have had you just then if he really wanted this.

But he’s dragging this out. Forcing you to spend as much time with him as you can. It only pisses you off further. You plant your foot on his back and kick him forward. He barely even stumbles and it only further confirms your suspicions. “Stop fucking holding back,” you yell at him.

He turns around slowly. You almost expect there to be a sneer on his face, something angry. Instead, he looks fucking thrilled, like this is all just foreplay for him. He laughs, so low you can barely hear it, and his chest flexes as his claws come out.

“You sure?” It’s a taunt, a dare, he knows you aren’t going to take the bait. You’d be stupid to, you don’t heal like he does. Once those things get in you, you’re screwed. But right now, you’re too pissed off to try and care.

You don’t say anything, you just duck under his fist as he swings at you. You know he made it easy for you, giving you an opening to fall into. He’s treating you like you’re something fragile. And maybe you are. One wrong move in this fight and you might not make it through the night. But anger is making you blind to logic.

Him playing fair just makes you want to play dirty. You use the opening he gives you, letting energy form around your fist and pulling back just enough to slam into his ribs. He coughs, doubling over as you hear bones crack under your hit. He’ll heal in seconds, you can’t bring yourself to feel too bad for him.

Maybe if he ever took you seriously you might not be such a bitch. But he didn’t think you were good enough to be honest with and he still was treating you like a plaything. In your opinion, he deserves whatever you give him and more. He doubles over and you swing your leg around, bringing it down across his face.

You hear a crack as your socked foot connects with his face, something crunches underneath you. And when your sole hits the mat again you see the blood leaking from his nose. You almost apologize. Almost, then you see the look on his face. His pupils are swallowing the hazel of his eyes, lips parted as he pants through his teeth. He looks fucking animalistic.

You have no warning as he pounces on you. His lips smother your own, moving over you with little to no grace. There’s nothing romantic or gentle about this. His fingers are digging so hard into your shirt, you’re sure you hear the seams rip. But you can’t bring yourself to care.

One of your hands goes to his hair, tugging at the roots until he’s groaning into your mouth. You rake your nails up his back roughly. He cusses against your lips, hand traveling up to your chin so he can roughly jerk you back.

He stares down at you, a silent question on his face. You’ve barely nodded before he’s descending upon you again. Lips and teeth clash borderline painfully as he lowers you onto the mat. You’re missing all the usual love and tenderness he treats you with, but you don’t care.

You want to be rough. You want to hurt him like he hurt you, make him ache for you the way you do him. You wrap your legs around his, lifting your pelvis until you have enough leverage to flip him. Your thighs straddle his waist and you grind down against the prominent bulge in his sweatpants.

He groans into your open mouth, large palms grabbing at your ass and spreading you so he can thrust between your clothed thighs. You can’t help but moan at the friction. It’s just enough to keep you on edge, he pulls back every time you think you might be close to something real building.

You rip your mouth off his. He glares up at you as you grab his hair and yank his head back. You slam his head hard enough into the mat for it to echo through the room and he growls against your grip. You grin down at him as you slowly get off him. You make a show of stripping, enjoying the way his eyes track your movements. He looks like a dog, panting and waiting for his treat.

You’re tempted to get yourself off, making him watch, and then leave him straining against his sweatpants. But you need this bad, need him to scratch the itch you can’t reach so you can finally get him out of your head. Neither of you are patient as he jerks his sweatpants down just enough for his cock to pop out.

It’s already leaking from the tip like a faucet. You kneel, straddling his waist again. You don’t have to do much to slick him up. You pump him a few times before he’s gripping your wrist and jerking your hand away. “Get up here,” he commands, voice rough as he grips your hips. You don’t even get a chance to protest before he’s flipping you over.

He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his waist. Your ass is off the ground, hovering above his lap as he lines up with your slit. You moan when the tip rubs against your clit. “Whose teasing now?” You grit out, glaring at him.

His lips curl up, that insufferable smirk on his face before he slams into you. The attitude is practically fucked out of you as he starts pumping in and out. You groan, raking your hands down his chest. He fucking moans at the pain, blood blooming under your nails and immediately closing the further down you go.

Neither of you are giving up this fight, you don’t want to lose, not even while you’re fucking. He pulls out of you and flips you over so fast you don’t even have time to whine. He’s back in you before you can blink, hips slapping into you in a way that you know is going to leave bruises tomorrow. You’re not going to be able to sit for a week and he knows it. His hands are groping at the skin of your ass, pulling you apart and watching the skin ripple as he fucks into you.

You’re not going to last long. You’ve been too desperate, too pent up while you’ve been pissed off at him. He leans over you, draping himself across you lazily. You groan at the added weight, it only adds to the sensation, only makes you want him deeper inside you. “Thought you didn’t want me anymore, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear and you flutter around him as his hand snakes around your waist, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

You open your mouth but all that comes out is disjointed moans. You know there’s something sarcastic in there, and he must know too because he laughs at your pathetic mumbled sentence. “I don’t know,” he leans back and watches as he makes room for himself inside you. “Seem to need me real bad now.”

Your nails dig into the mat, energy leaking through your fingertips and warming up the canvas beneath you. You can feel it fluctuating, fighting against the cuffs the closer he brings you to the edge. “Fuck you,” the words escape you at a particularly deep thrust and you struggle to keep your eyes open.

He pauses and you nearly cry at the loss of movement. “Sorry, couldn’t hear you. What’d you say? Stop?”

You glare over your shoulder at him “Don’t you fucking dare, Logan.” You let your power push up against his back, forcing his hips to move again. He chuckles at the move, fingers creating figure eights on your nub.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart,” he protests, voice innocent. “Ah, fuck,” his voice is nothing more than low grunts and groans in your ear the closer the both of you get to your release. You can’t speak anymore, can’t think. You can feel it cresting higher and higher inside you.

Your abilities are rising with your release. They’re pushing against the cuffs, fighting desperately against the control the foreign metal has on your powers. You can feel it, heat building up under your skin, like a tingling on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t reach. It’s Logan’s release that finally tips you over the edge.

The way his breath catches and his hips stutter in their perfect rhythm as warmth floods you from the inside out. You can feel it, him, dribbling down your thighs and staining the mat beneath you. It has you clenching around him, pushing your hips back weakly while you let the feeling overwhelm you. You nearly black out. Two weeks without him hadn’t felt long until you remembered what you were missing.

You lose your sense of time, dropping to the mat like your bones have gone liquid, dripping out of you. You can feel Logan draped over you still, his weight a comforting blanket that nearly has you drifting to sleep. Naked, in the middle of the boxing ring. He pulls out of you and you whimper at the loss.

He shushes you, rubbing a hand up your spine and pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your temple. He wraps his arms around you, laying down and pulling you back into his chest. It takes a few minutes of quiet cuddling for you to remember what exactly led you down to the gym in the first place.

You feel disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. It’s clear what his plan had been. And you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. You’d barely even fought against him. Of course, you could reason that you needed to get the tension out. This was the perfect way to funnel out your built-up energy.

But you’re disgusted with yourself for giving in to him so easily. You just disregarded dignity and self-respect for a chance to get him between your legs. You were such a fucking idiot. No wonder this is all he wanted you for.

“Shit,” you mutter, trying to pull yourself out of his grip. Your eyes widen as his arms tighten around your waist. He tugs you back down until he’s got you in what essentially feels like a headlock. He could easily pass it off as spooning, but it feels a little more demanding than that. “Logan,” you warn, the silent peace of the moment officially shattered.

“Don’t,” he gripes. You can fight against him for as long as you want, but you’ll only tire yourself out. His arms are literally metal bands around you. “Let me talk and then you can run off.” You huff and wait, but he never speaks. Finally, you look over your shoulder and glare at him. “Well?”

You roll your eyes, “Fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “Alright, speak.”

You can feel his grin against the back of your head. If he didn’t have you in such a tight grip, you’d elbow him in the gut just to be petty. “I made a mistake,” you scoff and he keeps going. Stopping you from interrupting him with something bitchy. “You weren’t just something convenient to me, sweetheart.” he pauses and chuckles, “You’re a huge fucking pain in my ass.”

“Is this your idea of an apology?” You snap, “Because this is pathetic.”

He doesn’t say anything and you’re tempted to snark at him again. But then the world is flipped on its side as he jerks you around and forces you to face him. Your chests rub together, the sweaty skin sticking together and bordering on uncomfortable. “You ever shut up?” He asks, but there’s no heat to the words. If anything he looks fond of you, and it makes you shift around, trying not to look him in the eye. But there’s nowhere for you to hide, you’re both naked and bare before each other.

You’re as physically vulnerable as he must feel emotionally. And as much as this is a horrible way to display how he’s feeling, you’re starting to understand him a little better. You know why this conversation is so hard for him, why he can’t accept that someone truly loves him and he loves her back.

But that’s not going to get him out of it. He’s still yet to say the words. Maybe if he manned up and said something real you’d consider forgiving him. You give him an expectant look and he sighs, forehead pressed against yours as he slumps over you. You want to pretend you’re annoyed at the contact, but you’ve been craving it since you ran away two weeks ago.

You’ve been desperate for this warmth that only he can provide you. Without realizing it, you nuzzle further into his chest, hands drifting up to wrap around his bare waist. Logan feels the tightness in him ease slightly at the way you curl into him. He’s got a shot, even if you try and tell him he doesn’t.

It’s silent for a while, while you linger in the emotions of what just happened and he tries to find the right words. He leans down, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smiling against the shell of your ear. “I love you,” he whispers.

You’d told yourself you’d only consider forgiving him if he said those words. But that’s only because you’d never thought he would actually say it. You didn’t think he was capable of admitting that to himself. It seems so out of character for him. But, maybe, you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.

He pulls back, hand landing on your jaw and gently guiding your head out of his neck. He gives you an expectant look but you’re finding it hard to meet his eyes. You’ve been waiting for him to say that, but now it feels like you can’t. You’re still struggling to forgive him. He put you through so much unnecessary hurt just because he couldn’t face his own feelings.

And now you’re struggling to do the same. “I want to say it back,” you tell him. “But how am I supposed to trust that the next time things get hard, you won’t lash out again?”

He frowns, an irritated huff of breath shooting out his nose. But you know it’s frustration towards himself. For letting you both get to this point because he couldn’t just say three words. “I’ll wait,” he promises. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait.”

You smile and nod, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his neck. You’re sure you’ll be saying it sooner rather than later. But what’s the harm in making him squirm a little? He deserves it.

A/N: I don’t write smut, it’s literally in my rules. I think I stared at a gif of him for too long and some horny ass demon possessed me and made me write this. Forgive me, universe, I’m no better than a man.

#Wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #x men #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #smut #ohmygod #i can’t believe i wrote this #Someone sedate me #im just a girl #i cant be blamed LOOK AT HIM #he's actually older than every adult man in my life #can you tell i need therapy

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emoclownemoji · 1 year ago

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#being 26 and still never having kissed anyone has truly rotted my brain #like I think I have actual brain damage because I never even kissed a boy like NOTHIN #I feel like if I just kissed a girl I would mellow out and be so mentally stable #like mitski was so right when she said just one movie kiss and I’ll be alright #@ god why do u keep this from me

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sha-n-dowbannedlol · 2 years ago

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Jing Yuan — no man escapes the wrath of his wife

cw: reader referred to as jy's wife, just jing yuan brain rot currently being active

General Jing Yuan, the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Alliance's Cloud Knights, one of the Six Charioteers, someone who will undoubtedly be part of the history books, the ever-famous dozing general....

....finds himself in a pinch for the first time in centuries.

It has nothing to do with the fact that he currently finds himself kneeling with his hands in the air, surrounded by enemies with their weapons pointed at him from all angles. In fact, he even has to stifle a yawn as he looks at his captors, his golden eyes boredly examining each and every one of them.

"The Dozing General: Jing Yuan," the man who seems to be running the show speaks, and Jing Yuan mentally dubs him as Captor #1. "I would have thought it would be much harder to get my hands on you, really. Are the Cloud Knights truly this wea-"

But before Captor #1 could finish his sentence, laced with an incredibly condescending tone, the sound of a certain ringtone, familiar to the General, starts sounding out, reverberating in the small room.

Jing Yuan's eyes widen, his relaxed body suddenly tensing up, his half-closed eyes now blown wide in surprise as he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket.

That's the ringtone he has set for his beloved wife.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off..." the General starts, his tone apologetic, "But is there any chance you'd let m-"

Similar to the way Jing Yuan's phone rudely cut off Captor #1's monologue, Captor #2, who happens to be a woman, rudely cuts the general off, approaching him and roughly snatching his phone from his pocket.

The crystal-clear sound of his ringtone can now be heard, and Jing Yuan looks at his captors, observing their next move.

"Who is it?" his first captor speaks as his second captor approaches the man, showing him the phone.

"It's his wife," Captor #2 says, before smirking. "I think we should answer."

The sound of his ringtone suddenly comes to an abrupt stop, and Jing Yuan visibly gulps, showing signs of nervousness for the first time since his capture.

"Love, are you busy?"

In a different scenario, Jing Yuan's heart would have fluttered at the sound of your voice that he loved so much, but at the moment, he can only feel his heart flutter in nervousness and he prays to the aeons that Captor #1 steals the phone from Captor #2 to speak instead.

"Indeed, the General is."

However, it seems that all the aeons are too busy to look after Jing Yuan at the moment as his female captor speaks into the receiver of his phone with a teasing smirk on her face.

"What? Who is this?" your voice rings, now sounding annoyed. "Why do you have my husband's phone?"

"I'm the one currently keeping him busy," his captor responds, and Jing Yuan wants nothing more than to melt into a puddle and seep into the ground at the moment.

"It's not what she's making it out to be-"

"Shush, General~"

He doesn't know if she's doing this on purpose—the suggestive tone of her voice makes it seem like she is.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" you speak, now with anger. "Where's my husband?"

"We're currently holdi-"

"JING YUAAAANNN!!!!"

And that was his cue.

The tables were suddenly turned, and in the blink of an eye, only Jing Yuan remains standing. Every captor of his, including Captors 1 and 2, now lay on the cold, hard ground, either unconscious or groaning in pain.

The General jogs over to get his phone, seeing that you were still on the line. Captor #2, at least, had the decency to—or maybe just accidentally—put the phone on mute throughout the whole fight.

"My little sparrow!" Jing Yuan calls out to the phone, and he can almost imagine your arms crossed on your chest and the pout you wear. "It wasn't what she made it out to be, I swear!"

"Hmm, really now?" you respond, obviously not amused. Jing Yuan had half a mind to tease you for being jealous, but he thought against it.

"I'm on my way home. I'll explain everything."

"You better."

"I love-"

Jing Yuan's words were cut off as his wife hangs up the phone, and he can only let out a helpless sigh. A small smile adorns his face as he shakes his head helplessly, fingers dialing Yanqing's phone to take care of the rest.

He's really in a pinch now.

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai jing yuan #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader

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thetempleofhades · 2 years ago

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favorites pt2

this is mostly self indulgent. just fontaine being my favorite. this is an alternate version with imposter au creator! reader.

Maybe it was childish in the eyes of others that you preferred Fontaine over every other nation. You had been ridiculed and branded as an imposter in Mondstadt, you had been nearly killed in Liyue, had been nearly killed again in Inazuma, you didn't neven want to talk about Sumeru.

You didn't want to even think about the Fatui or their reigning Archon, The Tsaritsa. Fontaine had been the first place that you ran to that didn't try to kill you or accuse you of a heinous crime. You had nearly broken down crying at the realization that the residents of Fontaine weren't going to hurt you.

You looked out at the rain, watching it fall with trembling hands as you sat at a table, having tea with Furina and Neuvillette.

"....Your Grace?" Neuvillette called your attention softly, staring at you with a concerned look as he took notice of your trembling hands. "Are you alright?"

It was overwhelming. This was the first time you'd been asked if you were okay since the moment you arrived in Teyvat. It was.... strange. In a horrible way, running and avoiding death was something you got used to. you used to hide in caves and amongst the hilichurls for a moments of respite and look at your scars.

Your shaken eyes stared down at your scarred hands, "Um... Yes... I'm fine." It sounded like a lie from your lips. You weren't fine. Fontaine had refused to hunt you down, and the moment you entered it's borders, Fontaine protected you. Furina, Clorinde, and Neuvillette protected you and comforted you. Why was Fontaine the first to protect you? Were people truly that cruel?

Furina's eyes noticed your shaken state and she exchanged a look with Neuvillette. "Your Grace, please try the cake! It's of highest quality, as is everything and everyone that graces my table." Smugness radiated from her as she pushed the piece of cake towards you, eager to get you to eat something, anything.

You looked up towards her as her presence calmed you down from your anxiety. Your shaky hand reached for the fork. "Is it really okay for me to be here, won't it cause problems with the other nations?"

"Forget about those guys! Those Archons have rotting brains and feeble bodies. They should have just turned to dust instead." Furina scoffed as she rolled her eyes. "I don't really care about them, Fontaine welcomes you and we'll protect our beloved creator." She smiled at her and you relaxed slowly as you looked down at your cake before taking a bite.

"...!" Your eyes widened as you stared down at the slice of cake. "....It's good." You commented quietly, not noticing the pleased look on both Neuvillette and Furina's face.

"Everyone here treasures you, Your Grace. You don't have to worry about anything and everyone who has hurt you will never be able to come here so easily. Rest easy and enjoy all the things we have to offer you." Neuvillette's voice was soothing as you found yourself nodding.

Yes.... you did like Fontaine.... You liked being in Fontaine...

Okay, you liked slightly less now that you were in an actual prison.

"Why are going to a prison?" You asked Neuvillette, nervous as you shifted in the lift you were in. You tugged your jacket closer to your frame as you looked up at the man who had been by your side since you had arrived in Fontaine. "I'm... not being arrested, right?"

"No, of course not, Your Grace. You haven't done anything wrong in the slightest. This is the Fortress of Meropide. The administrator of this place, Wriothesley is a personal friend. I thought you should be introduced to him as well as you have decided to reside in Fontaine for now.

Before you could respond, the lift opened and you really weren't sure how to feel about this place.

You shyly waved to those who you past. They were all staring at you, it was a little unnerving but it didn't feel like they disliked you.

You currently found yourself in an office as said man, (Wriothesley was what Neuvillette called him) poured you tea. "It's chamomile tea, Your Grace. You seem a little nervous." The man smiled at you which only made a blush of embarrassment appear on your cheeks.

You wondered if anyone was ever disappointed when they learnt that you were the Creator of this world, you didn't fit the title of All Powerful. Your time being hunted had made you skittish and paranoid.

You looked to the side as Sigewinne, the Melusine that Neuvillette told you about entered and your hear jumped. You had always been fond of cute things and Sigewinne was cute, you had always been fond of children.

"Hello, Your Grace!" She smiled at you happily and you swore you could cry. She was so cute....

You quickly averted your eyes, to try and keep your composure, to not seem strange, "Um, hello to you too." You greeted her, the shyness leaving you as a soft smile curled at you lips.

You kept the steaming cup in hand, not yet drinking it.

"Their Grace has decided to reside in Fontaine for the moment as we sort out the issue with the other Archons." Neuvillette quietly informed Wriothesley while you were enamored with Sigewinne and talking to her quietly. "It will most likely be a drawn out affair. The other Archons will likely not admit their wrong doings." Neuvillette frowned, which was mimicked by Wriothesley.

You were oblivious to their conversation as you talked quietly to Sigewinne about the sights you had seen so far. "Neuvillette and Furina have been making sure my meals are good enough."

"I'll write out a detailed meal plan so you can recover quickly!" Sigewinne seemed happy to be able to do something for you and you couldn't refuse her after seeing her excitement.

Your eyes softened as you smiled. "I'll make sure to follow it fully."

Yeah... Fontaine was great.... You didn't mind staying her for a while...

#sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #sagau cult au #self aware genshin #genshin cult au #sagau impostor au #sagau wriothesley #sagau neuvillette #sagau furina #sagau sigewinne

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jyoongim · 1 year ago

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Heyyy, it’s me again, the singer anon. Can I request an Alastor x Reader where she is sent by as a spy by Vox after our fav slithery boy failed? She’s really bubbly and friendly, but she eventually grows to care for everyone in the hotel but Vox owns her soul. She torn in between getting herself killed by him and not betraying anyone anymore, or continuing the job. She goes and confesses to Alastor, breaking down and thinking he’ll kill her, which she thinks would be best so she doesn’t have to betray anyone anymore. Just breaking down in tears telling him she doesn’t want to hurt anyone but Vox has her under a contract, begging him to kill her so she doesn’t have to. Just for Alastor to call her a good girl and ughhhh some possessive smut if you don’t mind? Sorry brain rots in my head and I’m in love with him, lol. Thank you! <3 also the three requests story set off the trigger in my head, loved it! Thanks again! <3!

This been in my inbox for weeks and i finally got a plot for it!

⚠️warning: 18+! Smut smut smut! Plot if you look hard enough!

—————————————————————————————

No one suspected a thing.

You were sent to the Hazbin Hotel after Sir Pentious miserable attempt.

Your orders were simple: ”Keep an eye out on that old fossil. I want to know why that fucker is sucking up the Lucifer’s daughter”

And you did just that…you were executing your mission flawlessly.

Until you began to care about those who stayed at the hotel.

Until you began to grow closer to the Radio Demon.

————————————————————————————

You had been staying at the hotel for a few months now and its been great!

Charlie was always finding new ways to help the residents build bonds and encouraging everyone to do their best.

At first, you were arrogant, playing along until you actually saw the the demons there were actually changing even if they didn’t admit it

But now, you thought of the princess as a friend, along with everyone else.

Especially Alastor.

Now that you’ve been around him, you’re not sure why Vox hate the demon so much.

Alastor was funny, kind (in his own twisted way), and truly looked after the hotel.

A soft smile curled on your lips as you thought about the demon, but the ringing of your phone interrupted such thoughts.

Vox.

You took a deep breath and answered “H-Hello?”

”Tonight’s your chance to take out that prick and after that come home” he demanded.

You blinked “what? B-but Vox…” you bit your lips “But it’s actually nice here. The hotel isn’t a scam…a-and everyone is a lot nicer than we thought ” Vox laughed “Oh baby please! Nice? You actually believe in that redemption crap? You think that they’ll let you stay if they knew why you truly were there? Hahaha! Oh my dumb little girl, how naive you are. ”

You pouted, a frown on your face “I want to stay”

Vox growled through the phone “ah ah baby you don’t make demands remember?”

Electrical shocks ran through your body from the collar you wore.

You gasped in pain “I OWN you. Did you forget that? You do whatever I say when I say it. Now I expect you home before morning or I will kill you.”

The phone call ended and you were in tears.

You didn’t want to go back.

You liked being at the hotel and able to be yourself.

You liked the friends you had made here.

You would do anything for them, even if you had to die to make your wrongs right.

————————————————————————

“Come in” the voice answered after you knocked on the door. You were sweating as you stood outside of Alastor’s door.

You had decided that if you were going to tell anyone why you were at the hotel, it would be Alastor.

You opened the door and walked into his radio studio.

”Hey Al” you said weakly as the demon spun around and smiled at you “Hello darlin! What do I owe the pleasure?”

You fiddled with your hands.

”I want to tell you why I came to the hotel”

Alastor quirked a eyebrow, smile widening as he gestured for you to take a seat on the couch.

”Do entertain me of your tale my dear”

You were in tears by the time you finished telling Alastor everything.

Of Vox and his plan.

The deal between you and Vox.

The reason you came to the hotel.

Everything.

”I-I’m sorry! So so sorry! I-I just didn’t know what to do!

Kill me! I deserve it! J-Just let me say my goodbyes first. I would rather you kill me than Vox! Please!” You cried, hands covering your face as you sobbed.

Alastor had been quiet for the entirety of your confession. He had half a mind to kill you when you told him of your deal with Vox.

The pesky television didn’t know when to mind his business.

His eyes focused on the collar around your neck.

You were Vox’s and by contract, he wasn’t allowed to kill you.

And he wasn’t. No he had grown accustom to the pretty demon who seemed to light the hotel’s halls.

However…he could override Vox’s ownership of your soul.

You flinched when you felt a large hand pat the top of your head. You looked up through teary eyes ay Alastor, who just sported a soft smile.

”Now now my dear don’t you worry. I appreciate that you came to and confided in me. What a good girl you are.” His smile stretched as you sniffled, looking at him with glossy eyes.

”Y-Youre not g-gonna k-kill me?” You asked looking down.

He chuckled as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, claws finding their way under your chin to make you look at him

He rolled his eyes ”Oooh my dear of course not…” His fingers trailed down your neck, toying with your collar. “But I am in a bit of predicament”

You wiped at your eyes “how so?”

“Under normal circumstances, I would rip you to shreds and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear” his pupils turned to dials and his smiled turned wicked. You felt your heart stop a little.

He calmed down slightly “however I have another idea to break your deal with Vox”

He smiled at you as you tilted your head in confusion.

”I know just the thing hehehe”

————————————————————————————

You whimpered as you tried to hold yourself up against the force of Alastor’s thrusts. “A-Al!” You whined as the demon tugged your hair to pull your body into his. A deep growl vibrated through you as Alastor sunk into your weeping heat, his cock hitting that soft spot inside you.

“Fuuuucckk!” You hissed, eyes rolling into your skull as your body buzzed with pleasure.

Alastor pulled your body til your back was flushed against his chest, his sharp teeth nipped at your skin before latching on and marking you. You winced as his tongue lapped at the blood, he purred as trailed his tongue up your neck.

”To think Vox had such a sweet cunt all to himself. Ooh darlin you’re wasted on him. But you’ll be a good girl for me wont you? You seem to love having a real cock fucking you” he chortled, giving you a harsh thrust. His hips grinded up into your ass, coaxing your cunt to take every inch over and over.

Your gummy walls tightened around him as you whined at his words. You could barely focus on what he was saying, not giving two shits either as he bullied your insides.

”I-I can be a good girl please please oh fuck! Aah! Aah!” You whined. Alastor’s large hands trailed up your body; kneading, pawing, and squeezing at your supple flesh. Pausing at your bouncing tits to tweak your hardened nipples, sending currents to your abandoned clit.

“I know you will baby”

He nudges his head into yours, to gain your attention and capture your lips with his, swallowing your moans as one of his hands moves down to toy with your puffy clit.

Your body jerked as he rubbed tight circles on the bud; your cunt fluttering as slick dripped down your thighs.

”Ill make a deal with you darlin” he whispered against your lips, lidded eyes staring into yours, as you mewled, wanting his tongue back down your throat.

“I keep this little mishap under wraps and in return you belong to me. Youre free to do whatever your heart but im no pushover m,a cherie.”

His thrusts sped up as he pinched your clit.

You keened, pushing your hips back into his, trying to follow the motion of his fingers, seeking to reach your orgasm.

”Do we have a deal?” He purred never breaking his pace.

Your collar let out blue sparks, Vox’s way of ‘reinforcing’ his control over you. You whimpered as the shocks edged you, but Alastor let out a deep growl as he wrapped his claws around the collar.

”Do we have a deal?” A snap of his hips pulled a moan from your throat.

”oh! Yes! Yes! F-fuuuc-cckk”

Static ran through your body causing you to jerk as your orgasm washed over you, your collar fizzled out as Alastor’s cock pounded your cunt, riding your orgasm out.

The wet SQUELCH! Of your cunt echoed as high pitched whines left your throat.

“That’s a good girl. Cummin all over my cock. Feels better than that robot huh? Yeeesss fuck! Take my cum darlin take it”

Your eyes crossed as your mouth opened in a scream. Alastor crashed his lips on yours, tongue pushing through your lips and pulling you into a heated kiss as he pumped you full of his cum.

Alastor let out a sigh as he slipped out of you, cock coated in creamy essence and smiling as he watched your cunt clench around nothing and dripping cum.

In your dazed state, you faintly heard a snap and a cool sensation coated your neck.

Instead of the sapphire jeweled collar, a gold chained ruby hung from your neck.

Alastor hummed as he rubbed your tired body, smiling wickedly as he slotted back into your soppy heat. You moaned softly as he rolled his hips against you.

”now lets send that mediocre podcast a proper video”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #vox hazbin hotel #sir pentious

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intoblonde6ftwbbplayers · 29 days ago

Text

Stupid Interview

no use of y/n bc im sick of it atp || obvs this isn't a real actress||

pairing; Paige Bueckers x famous actress reader

warnings; none that I can think of there might be brain rot but its used jokingly (im chronically online with the humor of a middle schooler)

summary; Josephine Carter does an interview on the tonight show where she reveals her passion for watching upon wbb and how she thinks Paige Bueckers is attractive.

You're currently backstage waiting to come out as Jimmy Fallon is introducing you. You've been acting since you were little, mainly smaller roles when younger but the second you graduated high school and turned 18 you went into it full time. You went to college but opted for online with your busy schedule.

It wasn't overnight but you got good role in a movie over a year ago and since then producers have been knocking down your door asking you to be in their next movie. It's honestly a dream come true being able to do what you love and have people praise you for it.

And 1 year and 3 movies later you are now pretty well known you've been told. Think like Glen Powell and how everyone knows him now but they didn't really before top gun. That's what people are saying happened with you as well. And this is the first interview you've done in months that hasn't been press for a movie and you're excited.

"The talented and beautiful actress Josephine Carter!" He says enthusiastically to the crowd who starts cheering at the sound of your name and even louder once you step out onto the stage.

You hug jimmy and sit down.

"So Josephine you've really been busy this past year and I mean really because you just wrapped filming a movie which makes that your third appearance on our screens this year which is just unbelievable" Jimmy says in awe.

"woah when you put it like that it does sound a little crazy. Im honestly so grateful that I have been able to work so much recently and each project ive done has been so amazing and I really just poured my soul into each role and am really proud of all of it"

"Yeah it's incredible what you've produced for us both on and off screen as you have been seeing giving back to the community a lot as well as getting your degree. I mean wow you're just on fire lately"

"Oh god yeah honestly I've always liked school and im graduating in May and I feel good and Im proud of everything ive achieved right now. Im just ready for what comes next"

"Speaking of what comes next what is award winning actress Josephine Carter going to do this next month? We know you start filming yet another movie in April but what about March? Any plans?"

"Not that I can- Oh! Yes! Actually big plans. Im watching march madness. Anyone who knows me knows that im invested and I have been for a while now so that's my entire month right there" you say laughing as the end

"March Madness that's a little unexpected? Mens or Women's?"

"Women's of course. And I dont know, ive been watching since Sophomore year of high school and right now this year im particularly invested" you say laughing at the way you know your friends have had to listen to you talk about Paige Bueckers and how she deserves to win countless times by now.

"what's peaked your interest this year that makes it so special?" jimmy asked genuinely curious along with the audience who is waiting for your answer.

"Well you've hears of Paige Bueckers. I mean her story and the entire uconn teams story these past 5 years have just been so heartbreaking as well as inspirational and everything they've overcome together and especially her. I just genuinely think that not only the team has the talent and commitment to win but that they all deserve this one that they truly should win and it would just be the perfect storybook ending if they do. Oh god that was such a yap attack im sorry. my friends say I can get pretty passionate when talking about this" you say blushing hard from embarrassment of rambling.

"No that was very interesting and I think we can all tell you aren't just a casual watcher which makes it all the better. Do you plan on going in person? Supporting Uconn?"

"I dont think so. I mean ill be checking tickets but I dont know it might be too late to get tickets but I will be watching every game no matter what"

the interview goes on and you and jimmy have good banter back and forth. You mention Paige a couple of times while talking about UConn of course as well as answering some questions about your upcoming movie as well as how you school life has been especially not that your done soon.

"Alright Josephine last question of the night... Who is your favorite uconn player and why?"

"Oh god" you say putting your hands on your face to cover you blush

"right ill be honest since I doubt they know who I am or that they'll see this but uh... Paige Bueckers and the why, I mean ive seen clips of her and read the articles, she seems like a good person and you can tell its genuine.. but also have you seen how attractive she is?" you say smiling and blushing HARD.

"I mean she's 6'0 with the bluest eyes and she's just so beautiful how is she not everyone favorite?" you say blushing even harder but laughing just as hard at your own bluntness.

"I cant believe I just said that. Cut that out!" you say to jimmy and turning to look at the producers.

"Well Josephine this is live sorry to say but as always it was a pleasure having you as well as learning about your little crush. Josephine Carter everybody!" jimmy says hugging you goodbye before you walk off.

You reach backstage before it hits you that you just admitted to the entire world that you think Paige Bueckers is fine. No big deal right? How much can you guys fans really overlap? Maybe this interview won't do well you think to yourself.

NEXT DAY*

The end clip of the interview of you detailing exactly just how pretty you think Paige Bueckers is has gone viral. Your entire FYP and probably everyone else's shows different clips of you smiling like an idiot while talking about her and you just want to live in the ignorance of thinking that Paige hasn't seen it even though there's no way thats possible at this point 7.5 million views later in just under 20 hours.

You might be fucked but ignorance is bliss and thats how you're choosing to handle this.

then you get an alert on instagram, Kk Arnold is going live. of course you click on it always enjoying watching them when you catch their lives.

You join and its just Kk talking to someone off camera telling them to come sit down since the live started. Paige comes to sit down and your heart drops when you look at the comments.

'PAIGE PAIGE DID YOU SEE THE INTERVIEW'

'Josephine Carter thinks you're fine!'

'PAGIE GO WATCH THE TONIGHT SHOW INTERVIEW'

'Paige you should dm josephine'

'Paige did you see what Josephine Carter said about you??'

Kk and Paige read the comments but not out loud. God could this get any more embracing?

You got a pop up on the screen telling to request to join. You always click no you've never requested before and you weren't gonna start now you thought to yourself.

But as fate would have it your dog wanted attention at the exact wrong moment and moves your hand causing you to click request to join instead of the 'x' in the corner and managed to knock your phone onto the floor making you not notice.

You reach down to grab your phone only to come back and see Paige is blushing HARD at Kk's phone and Kk has the biggest most evil smirk on her face. You wonder what possibly could have caused this but then a second later your face appears on screen next to them on the live.

oh shit.

"Are you the real Josephine Carter?" Kk speaks first

"oh um yeah I am. Sorry about the request I didn't mean to but my dog made my phone slip and stuff." you say laughing at yourself awkwardly

"Oh hey you're totally fine im glad you did actually because P Boogers over here has been going crazy that her favorite actress knows who she is"

You laugh at that "why wouldn't I? you guys are famous"

"We're famous? Girl boo I guess we kinda are but anyway we seen the interview or at least the TikTok clips of it. You into Paige or what?" she says very excitedly with the biggest smile

"Woah there Kk Im sorry about her. But I saw the interview. You really know who I am huh?" Paige says cockily

"alright alright I do but I mean everyone on this live knows who you are and agrees with me on what I said in that stupid interview. And I can sleep happily tonight know thing there's new clips for edits tomorrow" you say the last part half jokingly but you know you'll end up getting them on your fyp tomorrow.

"You're a fan of the edits? good to know" Paige says

"stop acting like I didn't tell the whole world you're fine shyt yesterday"

kk and Paige burst out laughing at this and you cant help but feel proud that you made her laugh.

"Don't worry Josephine your little rant on Paige last night could not compare to this video we all have of her talking about you." Paige at this comment tried to cover her friends mouth in attempt to get her to stop but Kk wasn't having it prying Paiges hand off her to continue.

"yeah she had us go see your new movie 3 months ago and we got back to her apartment and she would not shut up about how beautiful you are and how your acting is so good and everything about you. so trust she's just as obsessed or even more"

"No bro don't listen to her she's lying" Paige tries to defend but its no use as you know people have already clipped it and Paiges smile and bright pink cheeks have you believe Kk over her.

"Mmmm I think I believe Kk. but I am very flattered Paige it's always a pleasure to know someone likes my movies" you say trying to act nonchalant but failing

"okay so boom! like you have to come to one of the tournament games girly pop!"

"I'll look but there's probably no good tickets left. Il'l let you guys know if I decide to go though!" suddenly your dog comes and jumps onto your bed to howl in your face begging for attention.

"is that your dog?" Paige asks

"yeah she just wants some attention right now. I swear she hates it when i'm on my phone." you say laughing slightly and turning the camera to show your dog laying on her back with you scratching her belly.

"Wait you have a husky?!" Kk and Paige ask at the same time

"yeah I do! her name is nova" before they can reply nova gets up and walks to the front door begging to be let out for a walk you know you should have taken her on 20 minutes ago.

"alright guys thank you for having me but I gotta take her on a walk! It was great talking to you and I'll let you know if I go watch. bye everybody!" you say as you click off the live but before you close the app you follow both of them on instagram.

@paigebueckers started following you!

@kamoreaarnold started following you!

paigebueckers sent you a message!

your heart skips a beat. Maybe you'll try a little harder in your search for tickets.

thanks for reading lovelies part 2?

request are open lmk thoughts or any ideas in the comments

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tightjeansjavi · 3 months ago

Text

Double-Edged Sword - "what's mine is yours"

A/N: okay I am truly just writing this for the vibes so if it seems a bit silly, that’s why 😌 I did briefly go back and edit this, but I don’t expect it to be perfect, so if there’s any mistakes, that’s on me! Just remember that Geta is the biggest spoiled brat and he deserves to be put in his place :3 thank you @johnnyst0rm & @magicalmysterytour13 for once again listening to me yap about these two and further encouraging my brain rot <3

wc: 2.9k

Summary: Geta gets knocked down a few pegs by his empress because he’s a whiny spoiled brat who deserves to be forced on his knees 🙏🏻

Warnings: no smut, but you know they fucked nasty after this, heavy degradation kink (he is rock fucking hard make no mistake) belittling, teasing, reader is so mean, tiny mention of a wound, Geta is the biggest simp, no mention of age but reader and Geta are in their 20’s, reader has no physical descriptions, reader is Egyptian and a direct descendant of Cleopatra, Caracalla gets his own warning, DONDUS!! +18 Minors dni!

Pairing | Emperor Geta x empress!reader

translations:

deliciae - darling

anaticula - duckling

quod meum est, tuum est semper - what’s mine is yours, always

The air was hot, almost suffocating, and the sun's harsh and unforgiving rays beat down upon Geta’s back mercilessly. Gone are his royal garbs; a sign of his endless power and wealth. His laurels were not present upon his golden ringlets, but his rings remained, glinting in the sunlight. The thin fabric of his tunic clung to his sweat stained skin uncomfortably. There was a nagging tightness building in his throat—likely caused by the bone dry air, or perhaps it was the way that the woman directly across from him; his empress, was observing him like he was her next meal. His wife was a force to be reckoned with and he quickly learned that well into their arranged marriage.

“Perhaps you would be better suited and flexible if you rid yourself of your clothing, husband,” she lilted teasingly, eyes gleaming and her lips quirked into a grin from where she stood opposite of him.

“With my Praetorians present?” he snarked. A once soft gaze now darkened and burned in her direction like the blazing sun above. “I am flexible as is. The air—it is suffocating. We should rest,” he suggested calmly and dropped his sword against his thigh. The already heavy blade felt even heavier from his consistent exertion. So much for the people of Rome believing that he was some god.

“Our Praetorians.” she was swift to correct him, her smirk turning into a slight scowl. Her own sword dropped to her side as she approached him, sandals kicking up dusty earth beneath her wake. She walked with a confidence that could not be taught; she was born with it.

“That’s what I said the first time, wife,” he huffed out a breath, letting his posture relax for a moment as a reprieve. But upon her approach he stiffened, standing tall once more.

“It is unwise for you to play games when I possess a weapon in my hand, Geta,” she acquiesced, tutting under her breath. The blade glinted like liquid silver under the sun as she rose the very edge of it upwards to his face. The tip of sharpened steel rested under his chin. She leaned in and the playfulness in her eyes was replaced with something serious; something that should have intimidated him. “Do you surrender?”

The tension was apparent, sizzling and crackling like wild flames from a fire. The taste of it upon his tongue was thrilling in itself. The slight fear of the unknown egged him to continue his own taunting game.

How far will she take it this time? He mused to himself

“I am an emperor,” he hissed through clenched teeth, umber eyes darkening. He raised his freehand to cast her blade aside. “I will not surrender.”

She giggled wildly at his attempt to throw her off guard, or to perhaps knock her down a few pegs. Her husband was less of an emperor, and more of a mere boy playing dress up.

“The bead of sweat dripping from your brow, and the slight quiver of your lips says otherwise.” she leaned in, watching the way his eyes flickered with hidden uncertainty as she slowly and deliberately dragged the edge of the blade to rest against the side of his neck, right against a protruding vein. All it would take to spill his blood was a bit of calculated pressure. She wondered if his blood would bleed gold, like the laurels he wore, or if it would be the darkest shade of crimson. “Surrender,” she whispered.

The stationed Praetorians had already begun to withdraw their own blades, but one silent raise of the emperor's hand in their direction, had them sheathing their blades with an audible clink.

“Kiss me,” he challenged, dipping his head so that his forehead would come to rest upon hers. That same hand that was previously hovering in the air, came to rest along her exposed lower back, ringed fingers curling against hot skin.

“Surrender,” she repeated and stepped back, watching in amusement as his body seemed to work on autopilot, or perhaps there was an invisible golden thread that tethered them together. The slightest movement had him trailing her like a wounded, stranded, puppy.

“Kiss me,” he tightened his grip around her, attempting to hold her in place, but she was swift like a lioness, and he the cowardly lion.

“Surrender and I will do more than just kiss you, your majesty.” A tempting prospect.

And then he was yanking her towards him, using his own height to his advantage. He could feel the slight sting of the blade scraping against his exposed collarbone, but he paid no mind as their chests flushed tightly together leaving no distance between them.

“Kiss me,” he demanded. “Your emperor commands you.”

Her brows rose in amusement at his command. “As you wish, big boy.”

He stalled at her crassness, his mouth felt as dry and coarse as the sand beneath his feet. His mind was spinning, and he imagined it was because of the unforgiving heat, but he knew deep down it was caused by her; always by her. “You are the most vexing, deliciae,” he drawled under his breath.

For a moment it appeared as if she was giving in, that she was surrendering (finally) when her freehand came to rest upon his smooth jaw, free of any stubble. She brushed her thumb tenderly under his kohl rimmed eyes, watching as his long lashes fluttered shut from her uncharacteristically gentle touch. The moment was fleeting as her hand dropped from his face and snaked between their tightly pressed bodies. It took her no time to find what she was searching for.

Too easy. She mused.

His breath hitched from the back of his throat at her sudden touch, and he felt like a man turned to putty in her embrace. His loins were set aflame and his knees threatened to buckle.

“Please kiss me, Empress,” he begged, not caring how pathetic he sounded.

“Much better, husband.” She pressed a quick peck to his lips, chapped yet pillowy and all hers. And when he attempted to deepen the kiss, she was slipping from his embrace like a serpent, her sword left his skin entirely and she reveled at the sound of a low growl creeping up his throat at her swift departure.

He raised his sword in her direction, but she was ready, and their blades met in the middle creating an X formation, one that she leaned through the gap at the top of the blades, her throat threatening to scrape sharpened steel, but she was not afraid.

“You play a dirty game, wife,” he sneered. “Such a cruel, cruel, cruel lover you can be.”

She pouted, fluttering her lashes to appear innocent. “Me? Cruel? Oh, dear husband, you are so…dramatic.” She giggled, the sound ringing in his ears. Her tone was like saccharine honey; tooth achingly sweet.

“No more games, please. Let me embrace you,” he pleaded, dropping his sword with a heavy thunk into the sand below.

At the silent gesture of his surrender, she dropped her sword ceremoniously, and immediately invaded his space, looping her arms around his neck and kissing him properly.

“They do this everyday,” Caracalla chuckled from the shade of a tree nearby, Dondus perched happily upon his shoulder. “They are like two flames,” he said with a shrill giggle. “Hers burns much hotter than my brothers, but shh! Do not allow him to become privy to such things. His ego could never handle such a burning truth.” The small monkey chittered in response, as if he understood the words leaving Caracalla’s mouth. “Is something amusing to you, Antonius?” She pulled away from her husband's embrace, craning her neck to address her brother in law directly. Even from a fair distance, she could make out his rouged painted cheeks turning brighter, almost as red as his fire-tinged hair. “Ignore him,” Geta said snappily in an attempt to draw her attention back to him and him alone. He did not need his twin interfering. He was not yet ready to part from her enticing and rather addictive embrace. Fuck the opium and wine, no vice compared to the one standing before him, or what lay between the Empress of Rome’s thighs.

She pulled away entirely and bent down to grasp the hilt of her sword once more and lifted it from the sand with ease. She admired the craftsmanship that went into forging a blade such as this one. As if it was far more intriguing than her brooding husband standing nearby. “I wasn’t finished with you, wife,” the emperor muttered in annoyance at her deliberate choice to deny him. “Oh,” she mused, grinning, “I was quite finished with you.” she twisted the hilt of the blade, effortlessly twirling it in her grasp as if it weighed nothing. “I am tired,” he sighed. “My limbs ache, and the baths are sounding awfully inviting, yes? Come join me.” “No.” Another wild cackle sung from Caracalla and Geta’s face burned bright red at her unwise decision to deny him, her husband–unless she had so boldly forgotten who he was. “No?” he echoed, eyes narrowing in on her. He ignored his own sword on the ground and stepped towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. “I am requesting you to join me in the baths, and you will obey my request.” “No, I will not. I do not wish to attend the baths with you. I know what you seek of me, and I will not give it so willingly, your majesty. Not after you have so coldly disrespected me.” “Dis–excuse me?!” he exclaimed, marching forward till the tip of her blade rested against his sternum, halting his haste-filled movements. “You heard me, husband. As empress of Rome, I refuse your request.” “Drop your blade, wife. Drop it this instant. You will not defy me. I entertained your little game, but no more. I am your husband, your emperor, and you will fucking attend to me when I request you to.” She pressed the blade further into his covered chest, challenging him to drive himself through it, as if he actually possessed the humility to die at her hand. “And I am your empress. You cannot command me like one of your compliant subjects. I am not yours to command.” His eyes narrowed further, and the veins in his neck became more prominent as his umber eyes darkened to the same shade of kohl that lined his waterline. “Drop. The. Blade. Now,” he said in a low tone, sending pleasant shivers down her spine. She knew his threat was baseless, that he was like a toddler not getting its way and throwing a tantrum over it. A typical spoiled brat that grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth.

She bowed her head in a submissive motion and slowly the blade lowered till it was dropped completely and fell at her feet, kicking up grains of sand that landed upon her skin that was not covered by the smooth leather of her sandals.

Unbeknownst to him, she had him right where she wanted him. Men, such simple creatures at the core. She walked towards him, head still bowed and her eyes cast towards the ground. He half expected her to fall to her knees and kiss the jeweled rings that hugged his fingers, but instead, she crept around him—her movements like a serpent.

“My little…anaticula,” she purred and rested her hands against his shoulders, squeezing the tense muscles there. Her lips were at the shell of his ear, her natural scent mixed with perspiration, tension, and flowery perfume oils attacked his senses like a virus.

“I hate it when you call me that,” he grumbled, turning his head to the side so he could look upon her.

“But it is accurate,” she giggled, soft and sweet like a siren's song. “You are like a little duckling, Geta.”

He huffed out a breath, muttering something in latin that she couldn’t quite make out. “Please join me in the baths, deliciae.”

“No.” She dropped her hands from his shoulders, her presence no longer lingering behind him and she was already walking away.

“Gods,” he whispered to himself. “Help me.” He shook his head and stumbled after her, ringed fingers grasping her forearm and yanking her back suddenly. She whirled around, chest flushed against him.

“Not until you apologize,” she said plainly.

“For what?!” He growled, frustration laced in his tone at her vagueness. What was the reason for him to apologize? If anything, she should be apologizing to him!

“Gods! Have you not listened to a single word that has left my lips?! You disrespected me!” she yelled, shoving at him with everything she had, but he was like marble; solid and unmoving.

“How have I disrespected you?! Tell me!” he demanded.

She scoffed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes till they would inevitably get stuck in the back of her skull. “You referred to the Praetorians as yours, and not ours.”

“You’re still on about that?!” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head as if what she had said was truly something inherently crazy and out of touch with reality.

“Get on your knees,” she commanded and her authoritative tone, and embolden choice of words threw him off guard just enough that she was able to slip from his steel like embrace, again.

He blinked hard as if he could not believe the words leaving her mouth. “No. I’m not getting on my fucking knees for you.”

“No?” she tilted her head in a condescending manner, pursing her lips in displeasure.

“No,” he echoed defiantly. “Nor will I be apologizing for something so…trivial.”

“You are the biggest spoiled brat I have ever met. I Cannot believe I married such a whiny little boy who can’t endure a little respect for his wife,” she scoffed. “Not as if I am what will continue the future of Rome, hm? What would your father think?” she sneered. “I believe he’d be rather disappointed and embarrassed to find his prodigy son acting in such a manner. And at a simple request? The shame.”

His face paled and his jaw clenched so tightly, he could feel a dull ache begin to bloom from the tension. Ever-so slowly he began to lower himself on his knees before her, head bowed submissively.

His twin could not believe his eyes at the sight of his kin on his knees, in the sand, as if he were a common beggar on the street.

“Forgive me, Empress,” he whispered, biting down on the soft flesh of his inner cheek.

She looked over her shoulder, peering at Caracalla with a knowing grin. “Your brother is all bark and no bite, Calla.” She looked back down at her husband, her left hand coming to rest against the crown of his head possessively. “Look at me, Publius.”

“Why are you doing this,” he hissed, refusing to look her directly in the eyes.

“Because I can.”

He was silent as he tasted a burst of copper along his tongue from gnawing on his cheek too hard. His teeth were stained in claret, the iron taste in his mouth was unsettling, but he swallowed thickly, adams apple bobbing from the motion.

“You’re humiliating me.”

“That would require humility. You don’t possess that do you? ‘The Great Emperor Publius Septimius Geta,” she mocked, laughing cruelly. “If only the empire could see you now. On your knees. Weak, submissive, and in your true form. Just a little boy playing dress up. A pretend Caesar.”

His claws were sharp, but hers, hers were sharper. She always followed through with intent, and he would fall back into his cowardice. It was like a dance they performed, moving in sync and anticipating one another’s next move. She was cruel, yes, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Her cruelty and mean-heartedness was like an elixir, or a drug, as Caracalla would claim.

“She’ll be the cause of your demise, brother, she’ll no sooner kill you if you are not cautious,” the younger twin whispered to his brother the night of their wedding, an opulent affair that spared no expense. A marriage arranged by their father before his untimely death to ensure the longevity of the Septimius line that was now binded with Egyptian, royal blood. It was a pairing that the gods approved and expressed joy over by bathing Rome's people in abundant wealth and prosperity. Crops flourished, gold flowed like the Tiber, and Geta was blessed with marrying the most beautiful and alluring woman he would ever meet in his lifetime.

So, yes, she was cruel, but in her cruelty he knew that if his life were ever in true danger, she’d rip out the very throats of his enemies and spill their blood along the pristine marble floor in his name. She’d gut them, one by one if any harm were to ever fall upon his golden head. And he, well, he would do the same for her. She brought out the violence in him that simmered in his heart like a dormant volcano. She encouraged that side of him, but she never shied away from reminding him of his place beneath her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tell me the words I desire to hear from your lips in your native tongue, husband. And look me in the eyes when you speak them,” she said sternly, an edge of softness in her tone, but it was barely noticeable as she tightened her fingers grip around golden tendrils.

He slowly lifted his head to address her directly, umber eyes softer, more deer like in appearance to their previous blackened look minutes ago. “quod meum est, tuum est semper,” he murmured. (What’s mine is yours, always.)

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#double edged sword #emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #emperor geta x you #emperor geta x female reader #emperor geta x f!reader #geta #geta x reader #geta x you #emperor geta fanfic #emperor geta fic #geta fanfiction #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii #gladiator 2 fanfiction #joseph quinn #joseph quinn characters #gi writes #tightjeansjavi

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child-of-the-danube · 7 months ago

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I'm still in my Lilia brain rot era and I keep thinking about her and Agatha, and their dynamic and parallels.

Like, Agatha is a dick to everyone from the start, even Teen, but she's extremely chill and even, for her being who she is, weirdly respectful towards Lilia. Maybe it's because of the age, maybe it's because Lilia was the only one to show she still had true power when they first met, maybe it's because they share experience and persecution the younger ones don't truly understand, maybe Agatha just has a soft spot for those who are very clearly outcasts and weirdos.

The only sting at Lilia I can recall is calling her "Dory" in the last trial lmao

She never once questions or mocks her gaps. Hell, she said "we came to the right place" AFTER she saw Lilia scream her head off in ep2 over, to them, nothing. "Hmm, this bitch a lil bonkers, but that's exactly what I like and need :)"

She told Lilia that she couldn't take her power unless she's blasted with it - something she was certainly aiming for if the door didn't open and that ended up saving them in ep2 when she was using her ye old technique of being a menace. She may have told it to her only to get her in, but that's a big minus to her plan B.

When everyone had their hallucinations, Agatha didn't mock Lilia when she was, once again, "being weird". She believed her and reassured her in a soft tone that it was ok.

One interaction I found really funny is in ep3 when Teen asks about a sous vide machine and Agatha turns to Lilia with that "What the fuck is that? That wasn't around in our time" look

Usually when one of them starts spewing wisdom, someone will give a snarky remark, usually Agatha, but when they were talking about summoning a new green witch, Agatha let Lilia speak and was the only one who, at least somewhat, listened to her advice (50/50 but still haha). It was Lilia after all who was the first one to, tho reluctantly, agree to Agatha's idea of summoning a back up green witch.

Also the way Agatha looks at Lilia when she calls Jen out for giving Sharon only one dose of antidote when she had two glasses of wine. It's just so "mmm 😈 I like this one"

Agatha's first choice for "who could possibly play piano" wasn't Alice. Ya know the daughter of a rock goddess who would be the most logical choice. It was Lilia and I find that sweet and a lil funny too.

Lilia didn't tell Agatha's Salem story with judgement, even if she said "when Agatha killed her original coven". It was delivered as mere fact to explain the story.

Then when Evanora showed up and Lilia looks angry and almost disgusted at what she's hearing her say to Agatha. Even after Alice's death, she didn't jump on Agatha's back and accuse her. She let her be cause she was clearly distraught.

Agatha "I'm not drinking the poison. You can suffer but I won't!" Harkness jumped on Lilia and covered her with her own body in the latest episode when the sword was about to impale her. And then she let her do her magic even if it didn't seem to work as the ceiling was still falling and even if she thought tarot was bullshit. She trusted she knew what she was doing.

And the look they give eachother when Lilia reveals Rio is Death. Lilia's face reads as terrified, but more than terrified, she seems to have a moment of compassion. It's the look of "How deeply fucked must your life have been that the only one that ever showed you love and kindness is the one who everyone else sees as the bringer of pain?". Death broke Lilia's heart many a time, but in that moment she understood, she broke Agatha's heart too in even worse ways.

AGATHA LIKED HER! SHE LIKED HER FROM THE START AND RESPECTED HER! AND LILIA LIKED HER TOO, DESPITE THE INITIAL SUSPICIONS!!!

I need to know what her reaction to finding out Lilia sacrificed herself to kill the threat that was specifically after her will be. Will she brush it off and pretend she doesn't care to keep appearing stern and emotionless or will this be the thing that finally makes her realise people care for her? Cause Agatha has never had anyone, except literal Death, show her kindness, much less sacrifice themselves so she could keep living. And I find it beautifully poetic that the one other person Death has known well for centuries, who Death has acknowledged by name in that coven, was the one to do that.

Again, I'm aware that this is just my brain rot speaking, but Lilia was truly the MVP. She's the one with wisdom, the biggest experience, the one with seemingly most patience, the hype man ("Jennifer, look what you did", "It was all for you", "Don't worry, baby. We're cool"). Her trial is the only one where the rest was in fact not needed and was of no help. Actually, all they did was make it worse. The first three trials depended on teamwork. Lilia's was truly solvable ONLY by Lilia.

Anyways, Lilia mentally adopted Agatha and realised she truly was part of her coven and therefore worth dying for and I will never fucking recover 💔💔😭😭

#agatha all along #AAA #Agatha Harkness #Kathryn Hahn #Lilia Calderu #Patti Lupone #my thoughts have been consumed by their relationship since ep7 came out #I am unable to be normal about it #I need an AU where a young Lilia first comes to the US #and finds a freshly shunned from her coven baby Agatha #and takes her in #I NEED MORE OF THEM

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art-from-within · 1 year ago

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ER hc: Demigods in Love

(TW its long. Long.)

If they had a big fat crush on you and fell in love with you, they wouldn't say it outright at first but there would be signs

Morgott:

He becomes more catty-chatty. He usually cloaks his feelings of extreme self loathing(leading him to believe he deserves nothing and distance himself from things that bring joy, fear of rejection etc) with a rain of sour quips and old age scoldings, a technique he would definitely utilize all the same(and fail horribly) to suppress new trifling emotions arising within him, feelings he dare not indulge in for his own sake and everyone else's.

But despite his harsh words and taunts, the fact is not missed on you, that he is there. He is there, and for all his talk of finding you so lowly, he bothers to address you and your 'meager flame'

"I see thee little tarnished," he will say "smould'ring with that wretched flame of ambition" he will repeat this often, but the emphasis on 'little' changes with time. It is those little things, those minute slip ups, that itches a part of your brain.

Malenia:

She becomes more stiff around you. She is already taciturn enough, but around you she becomes stiffer than every statue in haligtree combined. But in those rare moments when she does address you, her voice becomes more softer than usual. Sometimes you catch her head nodding towards you gently. Other times you find her standing guard outside your door, though she will refuse to admit it was nothing else but that. Keeping you safe is her love language.

She will also make sure to always have the most fresh med needles stuck in her before she ever steps foot into your vicinity. Anything to make sure you don't get even the slightest WHIFF of her rot...poor valkyrie. She really tries.

Mohg:

He becomes more...clingy. And by clingy I meant he stalks you (a mogh classic).

He isn't audaciously obvious with it, no he is never obvious with anything. But as I said, there are signs. Bushes and trees seem to rustle more than usual. Warm beverages left on your table with no owner in sight, roses blooming during the wrong seasons and WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT??? Somebody who is TOTALLY NOT MOHG just healed your student rune debts?? Ahh! Good heavens!!! Who could have done this??? Definitely not the rich demigod omen who lives 2 broken buildings away that seemingly always knows when you need a heat pad hmmmm

Despite all this though, it seems this amount of clinginess is inversely proportional to the lines of dialogue he will spare you i.e. the harder he falls for you, the more he stalks and the less he talks (tldr of another hc post, that welcome guest speech of his is totally scripted and he can’t function outside said script). His confidence leaves him when he sees someone he cannot risk losing. He also love bombs you, with all intentions meant. Anything material, you have it. Its almost like he can read your mind (he is in your bloodstream).

He functions on the mindset that nothing in this world is selfless, and that love can only be bought and not earned. He 'bought' the love of his sanguine nobles through promise of power...he straight up kidnaps his 'doctors', who now love him(they are all mad with bloodlust). The albinaurics are there (for miquella). He is truly convinced that he cannot be loved without reason, so he does all this extra crap to cook up said reasons. Local omen has yet to discover consent out of the shunning grounds. Maybe u can change him 👍or make him worse.

Godwyn:

He gives you golden privileges….Godwyn wouldn’t outright confess his love for you on first sight, but I imagine he would be the SECOND (Rykard being first) most forthright man in this sea of bashful tsundere personages. Aside from his flirtiness increasing by 10 folds, He will let you ride Fortisaxx. Must I even elaborate further? There are noble men in Leyndell who would sell their cock and balls for that opportunity, but he straight up goes “hey you wanna ride my dragon” wink. Fortisaxx is best wingman, drops hints to help his brother/friend/(lover?😏) out. Considering he has a whole lineage, and i really doubt the omen twins received any action in the lore, he is the most experienced when it comes to love, and he has learned the best way to deal with it is just be chill.

Bonus points if you catch him drunk, the comedy you would play witness to would be legendary.

Godrick:

He will let you touch him. …

Pre grafted Godrick:

would be a total tsundere straight up. He has 0 confidence in himself, and his old and wrinkly ass has only known rejection by that point to not have any qualms about confessing. Throw in an odd sense of aristocratic pride into the mix and you have got a noble who looks and acts like he is competing his way into a guillotine. He is quite rude, and if he is got a single talent up his sleeve, it is without a doubt his ability to drive anyone into a frenzy(no three fingers needed) with his snarky quips alone. He is physically not up there, but by words alone he could burn bridges (and he has). Perhaps he gets this talent from his great great great great great great great great great grand uncle who, rumors say, also rules over Leyndell! He is a small crooked paranoid little freekle frackle that clings onto what we would call Ancien régime mindset and lifestyle

Given this context, the first sign that something is awry is that he lets you be near his viscinty. He is still snarky, with all the thou-s and thee-s sprinkled in. But he lets you near him. Hmm that’s odd. You thought Ettiquette 6600038 stated no non royal was allowed to walk beside him-OH and he is staring right into your soul. Thats also weird. You thought he hated the commonfolk? Did he just hold your hand? Granted he was terrified by the lightening, but still…hm… and he just tried cooking for the first time?? Ended terribly he burnt the kitchen down. He did all that for himself he says…you hear a “yea right” from a very brave soldier of godrick, never to be seen again. He gives you a suspiciously customized hankerchief, embroidery of (insert your fav flower here) when you catch a cold. Never asks for it back.

Post grafted Godrick is mostly the same, but more crazy with a 10% increase in confidence. For one, its been 24 hours and he has yet to tear you apart from limb to limb which is something. “Unfit for grafting” he says. yea right.

...

He also shows you his gore Godfrey goon shrine, your quality of life depends on the tone of your laugh. He lets you bathe him (wow you touched him…or some dude’s entire torso which he stole.) and Gostoc doesn’t fuck with you like he does with others. Good. Good. He trusts you enough to complain abt some tantalizing trespasser omen loitering infront of his castle named ‘Margit’. Which sounds awful lot like Morgott. He hasn’t clicked the dots and he most likely never will.

Radahn:

He lets you ride Leonard.

Radahn is the type of guy who is beyond friendly with anyone, so when he does something which would so obviously be labelled affectionate coming from others, it is generally dismissed as an act of friendship. He remembers your birthday and holds a surprise party which is VERY COOL, but he also hosts birthday parties for everyone else….which is also cool… He suffers through the friendzone for a while with grace.

But when he offers you a ride on his dear Leonard, that darling steed of his that he treats like his heir apparent? Yup, that very horse, is when the gears in your mind unclog. His highness Prince Leonard has always been a boundary none dare cross, but here he is granting you a safe passage to jump right through. He lifts you up with ease, and places you on the saddle. And when you smile, he smiles even wider. Signs eventually bubble up to the surface. He laughs more often around you, completely at ease. When drunk he regails you with tales of bygone heroes and his own aspirations to be one. Reply with “but you already are one” and you will catch him lag for 5 seconds.

He keeps you close by during expeditions, and even during social gatherings. He uses his gravity magic to help you/your siblings indulge in some 0 gravity fun. And during less crowded evenings, he arranges fun getaways with friends, except its just you two this time...and here on out. Oddly enough though, the closer he gets to you the more you find yourself isolated at your job etc. You start finding your posts more empty. Which is odd since you did remember there were 2 other people assigned at this pla- AND its general Radahn with 2 roasted exalted flesh in hand! Wonderful.

One can only speculate how he uses his powers as head general...

Bonus point if you like cats. He will bring his cats for a wash to your house (another excuse to see you)

Ranni:

She spills tea.

This one is easy since we have in game canon content as reference. At first she is secretive. She introduces herself as "renna", and maintains a professional distance. But as time passes and she comes to warm up to you, that distance is chipped away by her own doing. She confesses to her many well hidden secrets, dark secrets like how she played a hand in the night of black knives or her more lesser secrets like stealing her mom's books, giving young Radahn a bobcut in his sleep, mischiefs with Rykard etc. Her trust in you, that you will keep her word between you two, is the sign. Anytime the topic steers towards anything remotely romantic though, she transforms into a bashful tsundere

"Noooo don't open that box from that chamber in this location you don't want to marry me noooo" (gives you the key to that box). Also "take not the ring from this place, the solitude beyond the night is better mine alone." Is code word for "please marry me I am very lonely".

Rykard:

ОНОНОНО

Pre Snake Rykard:

He shows you his sex dungeon

Yea. The most forthright admirer award goes to! PRAETOR RYKARD! Rykard seems like the type of guy who has this very thick professional exterior, that betrays his true perverse nature. You sit down with him and think

"wow, what a well rounded individual! Yes he is rough around the edges, but he dresses nice, he speaks well, he looks lordly enough albeit dark circles, he is good with machines (he doesn’t tell you that he names them 'abductor virgins' 💀) hmm surely he isn't some perverted freak with dungeons and torture rooms in his house"

and then he offers you a tour of his house and peels off his skin like a snake fresh out of hibernation and every fibre of your being tells you to run as fast as u can. Think Tywin Lannister but it's obvious somebody's been slipping drops of mercury into his coffee. His stern facade hides a lecherous mind

It would go something like this. He is wearing his tywin lannister inspired drip, while riding his very high horse. He bothers to look down from his very high horse at which point he sees you. Double take. He approaches you with the confidence of an absolute slut, but its coated with enough regal varnish to make them barely acceptable in public. Something like "Good evening Fair lady/good sir, I see thou art unchaperoned this low in the evening. May we escort you somewhere safe?". You don't really understand what he is getting at first, until he offers to give you a tour of his beautiful rich and lavish manor. And like, he isn't lying. It's beautiful. It's rich. It's lavish. On top of a fucking volcano? It’s always the fucked up bitches with tastes like look at Mohg?! 10/10 (I had rank him second to Mohg in dripmaxxing). But the deeper you venture into his abode, the crazier the tour becomes. And then you watch this man peel his layers of civility strata by strata, with each new chamber easing him into his true self until ultimately what is left is a crazed man with a crazed look pointing at a literal dungeon with very suggestive toys. Tanith is there.

The pros though is that he is a good lover, and father. Stressing on Father, because you are gonna make him one. (Magic world if you are a male reader. Anything is possible)

Post Snake Rykard:

Ooooohhh togethhhaaaaaa we prossspeeerrr untuu eterniteeeeeeeee become fameeelee?

( he is giving you a choice which is a show of love. Choose your next words very carefully)

Godfrey:

He lets you dress his scars.

He recognizes that familiar feeling of love, and his age and experience has taught him that fighting it will be more painful, so he just lets it be instead. Despite his bloodlust and barbarism, which resurfaces here and there, he is surprisingly courteous in casual settings. Being married to a goddess you find out, is a lonely existence. Is there any love between the two? Questions that will storm your mind as you do good on the honor of dressing his wounds. You can feel the eyes of his golden beast watching over you. Such an act had intimate undertones back in his homeland. Do you understand?

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Miquella:

He doesn't 'slip' up any 'signs' no he LITERALLY stabs you with it(out of desperation), but you are still oblivious because he looks like your 8 yrs old baby cousin with a bug addiction(Those wings are real y/n)!He tries to appear his real age by snatching every opportunity provided to show the vastness of his mind and wisdom, but ends up giving young Sheldon vibes. He tells you straight to your face that he loves you like "no other", but he just gets swaddled in your lap like a baby. Not enjoying this experience.

Messmer: Don't know anything about him to write 3 paras (for obv) but the vibes he is giving right now is that he is less pookie bear than imagined, and impaling isn't just a hobby but his way of life. Going off of the trailer, I had say if he had a crush on you, he would be as straight forward as Godwyn, but with a more sinister bent. He would let you play with his snakes...maybe burn you deep to leave his mark...?

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fairy-writes · 5 months ago

Note

I feel my Arcane obsession starting to come back and the prompt "Tell me, my Dear, can a heart still be broken even when it stopped beating?" screamed Viktor at me 🥰 can I request that? Thank you very much!!

TO DIE OF A BROKEN HEART

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Prompt: “Tell me, my love, can a heart still be broken even when it stops beating?”

Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends (2021)

Pairing(s): Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 0.5k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Female!Reader, Angst, Post-Season 2, Established Relationships, Major Character Death

Notes: (I changed the quote a teensy tiny bit, but I like “love” more than “dear”)

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 OF THE SHOW

(something short because my brain is slowly rotting away)

__________________________________________________________________________

The cemetery was desolate. Your bouquet of flowers was just as sad as the solitary headstones, but you pressed on. Your shoes crunch the gravel underfoot as you make your way toward the back of the graveyard.

Piltover hadn’t been as noisy as it used to be since the war. In fact, it was drowning in silence.

It shouldn’t have been like this. Viktor should’ve lived a long and prosperous life with you. That was why you agreed to help fund Hextech along with Mel Medarda. To help the people, but more importantly, to help your lover.

So… Why? Why, why, why?!

Why had Jinx blasted the Council to smithereens?!

Why had Viktor been there?!

Why hadn’t he been resting like you told him to?!

And that didn’t even include what happened to the Hexcore. While you were grateful Jayce had attempted to save Viktor’s life, that sense of gratefulness quickly diminished when Viktor changed.

You get to the gravesite, and the flowers in your hand crinkle in the wrapping around the stems as you stare down at the stones before you.

Jayce Talis

“Our future is bright.”

Viktor—

A lump unexpectedly grows in your throat, and you barely stop yourself from dropping the bouquet of flowers. So, instead, you sink to your knees and place the blooms just before Viktor’s grave. Of course, there hadn’t been a body left to bury, so part of you had held out hope. But as time went on, your hopeful flame started to diminish to embers. Until those embers went out, and you finally accepted that Viktor might really, truly be gone.

Suddenly, you’re torn from your despair by a hand on your shoulder.

Turning, you see Mel dressed in her pristine mage robes with a bouquet of camellias clutched tightly in her hands. She offers you a sad sort of smile, and you gesture for her to kneel beside you.

“I hope it’s alright that Jayce was buried next to Viktor. I didn’t know where else to have him buried with both his parents still alive, and the Talis household doesn’t have a burial plot yet.” You mumbled, and Mel’s smile saddened even more.

“I’m sure he would’ve appreciated being buried next to Viktor. Someone has to keep him in line in the afterlife.” She says, and you blurt out a watery laugh.

“Right.” Is all you manage.

Mel stays for a while, most likely keeping an eye on you. Because out of everyone, you had taken the presumed death of the Hextech founders the hardest. Jayce was something akin to a brother to you. Viktor was… So much more.

You two had just begun to talk about marriage before all this happened.

But, eventually, Mel is called back to her airship to head back to Noxus and leaves you alone. However, something in her eyes made you think she might just visit again soon.

But then you are alone, flowers slowly wilting along with your heart.

“Tell me, my love, can a heart still be broken even when it stops beating?” You whisper to the silence, and a tear streaks your cheek when you don’t get an answer because, of course, you wouldn’t.

So you closed your eyes…

And let darkness swallow you whole.

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x reader #viktor arcane x you #fairy writes #fairy1.6kfollowers

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zegrasdrysdale · 1 year ago

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I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE!! if you have time vould you maybe do a jack hughes smut where reader wears the rival teams jersey to piss him off and its like rough??

its been rotting in my brain for forever 😭

[ bitter rivals ] j. hughes

paring : Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary : just to make her boyfriend mad after a fight, (Y/N) wears a Flyers jersey to the Devils’ game against Philly in Newark … and she feels the consequences afterwards

warning(s) : smut ! rough sex, unprotected p in v sex, slight choking, hair pulling, possessiveness, pet names during sex. light angst

author’s note : hear me out … i was having a moment so i decided to tackle this request. not to mention i have been wanting to write something like this for a hot second so here we are. that’s how we got here so i hope y’all enjoy. i always have time to write some jack hughes smut too

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It's been nearly a week since their fight and (Y/N) hasn't heard from her boyfriend. Normally she wouldn't do something drastic since it's only been a week, but she feels like doing something drastic.

Instead of walking into the Prudential Center wearing a red 86 on her back, she wears an orange 11. She gets looks from a few Devils fans who know of her relationship with Jack, but she truly doesn't care. She knows will always be loyal to the boys in red and black despite trying to be petty.

After grabbing something to eat and drink, she heads down to her front row seats that she purposely bought just to make this point. She'll be right on the glass for Devils warmups in a few minutes.

Until then, she enjoys her chicken tenders and High Noon while fans begin to gather at the glass to get a close up look at their favorite players.

The Flyers come out first for warmups in their white away jerseys, then the Devils come out in their black alternate jerseys.

(Y/N) sticks out like a sore orange thumb in a sea of red, white, and black around her. She gets a couple of looks from the fans around her when she stands up. but it doesn't matter. She’s just trying to prove a point.

No one would blame her if they knew.

On the ice, she watches Luke skate up to his older brother. His eyes flicker in her direction. Luke leans into Jack’s ear and says something to him, who looks right at her. He has a look on his face that she has never seen before. He looks so angry.

When he starts to skate over to where she’s standing, Jesper intercepts him as soon as he sees where he’s going. He says something to Jack but Jack’s eyes never leave his girlfriend. She waves at him with a sly smirk on her face.

Mission accomplished. He saw her.

Jack slaps pucks at the net in obvious frustration or anger. She doesn’t know which it is at this point. She wouldn’t be surprised at all if he takes a few penalties during the game.

If he’s angry now, it’s just gonna fester for the next few hours. She’s probably screwed but it’ll be worth it in the end.

The Flyers jersey doesn’t deter her from cheering every time the Devils score a goal.

When Erik Haula nets his third goal of the night, she makes sure she throws the beanie she’s wearing onto the ice. Technically it wasn’t even her beanie. Jack left it at her apartment and never asked for it back so she stole it for the game tonight.

Throughout the game, she does notice that Jack glances at her a handful of times with a look of fury darkening his usually bright blue eyes. He sends glares at her when she cheers for the one goal he scored in the third period that secured the Devils the win.

An angry Jack has never scared her, but his anger has never been directed at her like it is right now. She’s either in for the worst night of her life after the horn blares when the game ends, or she won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Like she usually does after a game, she meets up with the other wives and girlfriends in a lounge by the locker room. Kristen Haula is the first one to approach her.

“What’s with the Flyers jersey?” she questions.

“Needed to prove a point to Jack,” (Y/N) replies. “That’s all. I’m not jumping ship or anything. We just had a fight and he hasn’t spoken to me in like a week. I proved my point so next game I’ll be back in a Devils jersey.”

Before Kristen can reply, Jack marches through the doors and immediately scans the room. His hair is still dripping from his postgame shower and he looks very disheveled, like he rushed to get ready.

His eyes land on her and she presses her lips into a line. Jack takes large strides over to her so it doesn’t take him very long to cross the room.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks. “A Flyers jersey? A Travis Konecny jersey? Seriously?"

Kristen smiles and silently walks away while (Y/N)’s eyes remain on Jack. “What? You don’t like my new jersey?” she asks with innocence in her voice.

He bites his bottom lip as he thinks about his response. She gives him the smallest of smiles while the gears in his head turn. "I want you to take it off," Jack tells her.

"Oh, Jacky," she sighs. "You wouldn't want me to do that if you knew what I wasn't wearing underneath this jersey."

She watches his eyes darken. "Let's go," he says to her. "We're going to my apartment right now."

Her jaw drops and Jack grabs her wrist. "Who said I wanna go anywhere with you?" she asks as she tries to wrench her wrist out of his grasp. "You haven't talked to me in nearly a week, Jack."

Jack turns and faces her. "Wonder why," is all he says. She raises her eyebrows at him. "Let's go, (Y/N). We can talk at my apartment."

This time, she lets herself get pulled out of the Prudential Center and into Jack's car. Luckily she caught an Uber to the arena. A very small part of her figured she would be leaving with her boyfriend after the game.

Neither of them speak as Jack drives from the arena to his Hoboken apartment. Her eyes are on the passing buildings and cars. She feels Jack's hand on her thigh at one point but she doesn't react to it.

Yes, she was teasing him with the "if you knew what I wasn't wearing" comment. Yes, she hopes they'll fall into bed. Falling into bed isn't happening until they talk. She wants to know why Jack hasn't talked to her in five days before his dick comes anywhere near her.

It's a silent car ride and a silent ride up the elevator to Jack's place. She can still feel how annoyed Jack is by the fact that she wore the opposing team's jersey and still cheered for the Devils. She's annoyed too. She's annoyed because she had to wear the opposing team's jersey just to get his attention.

Jack opens the door to his apartment and walks inside. She follows him as he throws his suit jacket onto a coat hanger by the door. She shuts the door behind her and watches Jack unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt.

"Why?" she asks before he turns around. "Why did it take me wearing a Flyers jersey before I got your attention?"

He runs his fingers through his hair before he turns to face her. "I was thinking," he admits to her. "I was worried that I'd say something that I'd regret. I didn't want to hurt you, so I waited and actually took some time to think."

"Think about what?"

"Think about us," he softly tells her. "I wasn't sure if I was ready to find out if you actually meant what you said during our fight."

Her words come rushing back to her.

I don't know if I'm ready for this kind of life is what she had said to him.

"What did you think I meant by those words?" she asks.

"That you weren't ready for a life with me," he replies.

Jack is a beautiful man, but sometimes the smarts aren't there. Too many pucks to the head from Luke and Quinn.

"Jack, I meant that I didn't think I was ready to be an NHL wife," she tells him. "Of course I'm ready for a life with you, but it's everything that comes along with you. The spotlight, the eyes. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that."

The look that forms on Jack's face could make (Y/N) laugh. His eyebrows are raised and his mouth forms a little 'o'. She presses her lips into a line to suppress a smile. "I am such a dumbass," he says after he processes what she said. "Jesus Christ."

She wraps her arms around his neck and finally lets out a laugh. "You're my dumbass though."

When she leans in to kiss him, Jack pushes her away.

"Nuh uh," he says when she looks up at him. "I am absolutely not kissing you while you have that ugly ass jersey on. Not happening, (Y/N)."

Her eyes fall to the Flyers logo on her chest like she just remembered that she has the jersey on.

She reaches down between them and grabs the bottom of the jersey. Slowly, she pulls the fabric over her head to slowly reveal to Jack that she's not wearing anything underneath the jersey.

When the jersey is over her head, her eyes land on Jack. His eyes are wide while he looks her up and down. “Fuck, (Y/N),” he groans. “You really know how to piss a guy off. Not only are you wearing a Flyers jersey, but you didn’t even wear anything underneath.”

“Had to get your attention somewhere, Jacky,” she tells him as she gets up onto her tiptoes to attach her lips to his neck. “Glad it worked.”

Jack leans down and picks her up by the back of her legs. She wraps herself around him and keeps kissing and nosing at the skin on his neck as he walks somewhere in the apartment.

When he drops her on the couch, (Y/N) looks up at Jack and asks, “What about Luke?”

“What about him?” Jack settles comfortably between her knees.

“Won’t he be home soon?”

“Told him to find somewhere else to stay unless he wanted to see something that would scar him for life,” Jack tells her. “He told me that he’ll be at Dawson’s for the night. Now let me show you what happens when you decide to wear a jersey other than mine to a game.”

Yeah. She’s totally fucked. Literally and figuratively.

Jack ravishes her lips as soon as the last word leaves his mouth. A soft moan comes from her throat before she can stop it. One of his hands cups one of her bare breasts and the other cups her jaw. She tries to roll her hips against his to get some friction on her core, but he quickly puts a stop to that.

“I don’t think so,” Jack mumbles against her lips as he pins her hips to the cushion beneath her. “Only good girls get to come quickly tonight. You weren’t a good girl with the stunt you pulled.”

“Guess you didn’t like my new jersey,” she gasps as her boyfriend attaches his lips to the sensitive skin on her neck. “Or was it the fact that there was a different name on my back?”

The nip she gets is the answer she was looking for. Jack was jealous that another player’s name was on her back instead of his. She revels in the realization since it has been five days and it took wearing the jersey for him to talk to her.

He slowly begins to kiss down her neck and chest. He makes sure to give both breasts some attention before moving further down her belly.

Her fingers find a home in his now dry hair. She adores how soft his hair feels when it has just dried after a shower.

Jack’s fingers hook in the waistband of the leggings she has on. He slowly pulls the thin fabric off her body and kisses her hipbone when it’s exposed. She sighs as her boyfriend strips her of her pants. She kicks her sneakers off so Jack can pull them completely off of her.

She lets her legs fall open while Jack throws the leggings somewhere on the floor. Her soaked underwear is on full display for him. She watches his tongue dart out at his view.

“Touch me before I touch myself, Jack,” she orders him.

He goes back to hovering over her. A hand lightly wraps around her throat and she looks up at him in surprise. “You will do no such thing if you want to come tonight,” he retorts.

(Y/N) bites her lip at his words. She can’t remember the last time he spoke to her like this, but she is loving every second of it.

His other hand snakes between them and into the thin fabric of her underwear. A gasp comes from her lips as his fingers easily run through her slick folds. She wraps her hands around his arm to keep herself present.

“Jack,” she whines.

He cups her pussy and she has to stifle a moan. “Who does this belong to?” he asks.

“You, baby,” (Y/N) quickly tells him. “It’s all yours. I’m all yours.”

Jack leans down and presses soft kisses to her cheek and jaw. “Good girl.” His words shoot straight down to her already pulsing core.

Without warning, Jack stands up and pulls her up. He gets her on her knees and leans her against the back of the couch with her chest pressed against the cushions. In the reflection of the glass cabinet that’s behind the couch, she can see Jack undressing behind her.

He twirls her hair into a makeshift pony and gets on his knees behind her. Jack’s lips are on her neck right under her ear. “Tell me who fucks you until you can’t speak,” he whispers.

His low voice causes the knot that has formed in her belly to tighten.

“You do, Jack,” she replies. Jack pulls on the makeshift pony until she’s looking straight up at the ceiling. A soft moan passes her lips. “You fuck me so good. Only you.”

“Yeah, I do,” Jack mumbles as he presses her into the cushions beneath her. He doesn’t release the pony.

With one hand, he manages to get her underwear off of her and onto the floor with both of their clothes. She feels his hard dick between her legs and had to resist the urge to grind against it.

Her legs are practically shaking as she waits for release.

He leans over her and kisses the back of her neck for a second before he slams into her. She cries out in surprise because that was the last thing she expected to happen.

“Fuck, Jack,” she breathes out as he lets her adjust to him. “Give a girl a little warning before you destroy her.”

She feels him smile and mumble, “We’ll see.”

This boy is going to be the death of her.

A minute passes before Jack begins to rock his hips into her. She bites her lip to try and keep herself from making an embarrassing noise.

Eventually, she gives up because she’s worried she’ll make her lip bleed with how hard she’s biting down on it.

(Y/N) begins to meet Jack’s hips with every thrusts. She lets out soft moans and whines every time they meet. He lifts one of her legs up onto the back of the couch so he can get a new angle on her.

She has to lean against Jack’s chest as he continues to fuck into her at the new angle. “This pussy was made for me,” Jack pants into her ear. He wraps his arms around her to keep her steady. “Feels so good around me.”

She wants to say something, but she’s so overwhelmed with pleasure that she can’t form any. All she does is let out a soft whine in reply.

“See? No one else can fuck you speechless like I can.”

The knot in the bottom of her belly tightens. She has to force herself to form words. “Jacky,” she whines. “Wanna come. Been a good girl for you. Please.”

Jack kisses the swell of her ear and grasps her breasts. “You only wear my name, baby,” he pants in her ear. “My number on your back. No one else’s.”

“No one else’s,” she agrees. “Can I come? Please?”

He hums and she clenches around him as soon as she has his permission. She loses her vision for a moment as she comes on Jack’s cock. His name echoes throughout the apartment as she hits her high.

She had no idea that Jack could be like this. Maybe she’ll have to mess with him if she’s going to see this side of her boyfriend. She’s pretty sure that she’s never had an orgasm this intense in her entire life.

Without realizing because of how hard her orgasm hit her, Jack comes inside of her and slouches against her when he comes down from his own high.

When she comes to, she’s lying on her back on the couch and Jack is wiping her with a wet cloth. His boxers are on the lower half of his lower body and she pouts.

“Was that okay?” Jack asks before she can say anything. “I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

She shakes her head and says, “It was perfect. It was more than okay. You were jealous.”

Jack laughs and shakes his head. “Maybe a little,” he admits. “I don’t like it when you wear other players’ jerseys.”

“Maybe talk to me next time and I won’t have to,” she teases. Jack rolls his eyes. “Anyway, can we go to bed? I wanna get your dick in my mouth and apologize in my own way.”

She’s surprised with how quickly Jack picks her up and whisks her off to his bedroom after that.

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