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softiekatz · 3 days ago

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chemistry & cinnamon

claggor x reader | college au, enemies to lovers

wc: 11,486

link

(this is just a blurb from it)

You hated lab days.

Well...maybe hate was a strong word. It’s not like you loathed them, exactly. But you definitely didn’t like them. There were too many steps. Too much math. Too much standing around pretending you understood what stoichiometry was while silently wishing the Bunsen burner would swallow you whole.

So when your professor’s Sunday night email popped up: “Reminder: Chemistry Lab Tomorrow. Come prepared.�� Y ou nearly dropped out of college on the spot.

And then, as if the universe hadn’t already declared war on you, you walked into the lab Monday morning and saw it.

The dreaded phrase, written in dry-erase marker across the board like a death sentence:

Lab Partners Today

Could your day get any worse?

Yes. Yes, it could. Because you were paired with him.

Claggor.

As in, that Claggor. Starting tight end, team golden boy, and all-around pain in your ass. The same guy who flirted with you freshman year at a party you barely remember, the same guy who spent every lecture scrolling on his phone and somehow always managed to look surprised when he asked you for the notes you knew damn well, he didn’t deserve.

Perfect.

You dropped your bag to the floor with a heavy thud and collapsed onto the painfully uncomfortable lab stool beside him.

“I hope you’re actually going to put effort in today,” you said flatly, not even bothering to look at him.

He didn’t answer at first. Just leaned against the lab bench like it was a locker room wall, phone still in hand. When he finally glanced up, that familiar smirk was already forming.

“Depends,” he said lazily. “You gonna do all the work for me?”

That stupid jock tone of his made you clench your jaw.

God, he was insufferable.

And worse? He knew it.

You ignored his smirk and pulled the lab manual toward you, flipping to the experiment of the day. Titration. Great. Acid, base, and a whole lot of numbers you didn’t want to deal with on a Monday morning.

You started reading the procedure, squinting at the tiny text. “We’re supposed to calculate the molarity based on how much base is needed to neutralize the acid. So we need the volume used—”

Claggor leaned in, way too close, pointing at a random paragraph with the tip of his pen. “Wait, wait. Is this the part where the chemicals explode if we mess up? Or is that just in the movies?”

You gave him a withering look. “This isn’t Fight Club , Claggor. It’s Chem 102.”

He grinned. “You say that like you’re not lowkey hoping for a little explosion. Spice things up.”

You turned back to the manual. “The only explosion that’s about to happen is my brain trying to remember how to do these calculations.”

“Aw,” he said, fake pouting. “Need help with the big bad numbers?”

“I need you to not talk for five minutes.”

He let out a low whistle. “Feisty. I like that.”

You didn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, you started writing down the formula for molarity: M = mol / L . Simple enough. In theory.

Claggor tapped his pen against the table. “So... what’s a mole again? Like, the animal? Or...?”

You stopped mid-equation and stared at him.

He stared back.

“I’m joking. Kind of.”

You ran a hand down your face. “Why are you even in this class?”

He leaned in again, smile slow and smug. “Why do you think? Gotta stay eligible for the team. And maybe I wanted to see you again. You know, relive that magical freshman moment.”

You blinked. “The one where you spilled beer on me and asked if I ‘felt a connection’?”

“That’s the one,” he said proudly.

You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly saw your ancestors. “Focus. We need to find the number of moles of the base, and for that we need the molarity of the acid, and the volume added—”

But Claggor wasn’t listening. He was still watching you; head tilted like you were a puzzle he was just starting to enjoy solving.

“You get real intense when you’re concentrating,” he said, grinning. “It’s kinda cute.”

You slammed your pen down. “Do you want to pass this lab or not?”

He leaned back, hands up like you’d just pulled a weapon. “Hey, I’m helping! I’m the moral support. The vibes.”

“Your vibes are actively lowering my IQ.”

He chuckled, actually chuckled, like this was all some big joke to him. Which, to be fair, it probably was.

“Tell you what,” he said. “You teach me this math stuff, and I’ll buy you coffee after. Or dinner. Your pick.”

You stared at him. “That’s not how lab partnerships work.”

“It could be.”

You gritted your teeth and shoved the notebook toward him. “Start by writing down the volume we used. Accurately. If you round wrong, I swear to God—”

He took the pen with a wink, like you’d just agreed to marry him. “You got it, partner .”

You were waiting for him to mess it up.

Really, you were ready for it. You had already rehearsed your eye roll, prepared a snarky comeback, even opened your calculator so you could redo everything yourself.

But then Claggor… actually picked up the pen.

And didn’t look confused.

“Huh,” he said, tapping his finger against the page. “So if the volume of the base we used was 0.025 liters, and the molarity of the acid is 0.1 M, then we can just plug that into the neutralization formula, right?”

You blinked. “Uh… yeah.”

He jotted something down, quick and neat, and your eyes widened. His handwriting was surprisingly legible. Neat, even. A little angled, like he was trying not to make it too obvious he cared.

“So,” he said, “if the balanced equation has a 1:1 ratio, then moles of acid equal moles of base. Multiply molarity by volume, that gives us... 2.5 millimoles.”

You stared at the notebook.

Then at him.

Then at the notebook again.

“…Did you just do that in your head?”

Claggor looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah? I mean, it’s not that hard.”

You frowned. “But you said… You act like you don’t even know what a mole is.”

He grinned. “Yeah, because it’s funny watching you get all worked up.”

You gaped at him, full-on speechless. “You’ve been pretending to be bad at this?”

He shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Not pretending. Just… choosing not to try. There’s a difference.”

You leaned back in your stool, trying to process what the hell just happened. Claggor. Claggor. The guy who once asked if the syllabus was “just a suggestion,” had just casually solved the hardest part of the lab without breaking a sweat.

“What are you even doing in football?” you muttered.

He shot you a lopsided grin. “What, you don’t think athletes can do math?”

“I think you were trying really hard to convince me you couldn’t.”

He looked down, a little more sheepish this time. “Yeah, well… people don’t usually expect me to be good at this stuff. It’s easier to just play the dumb jock card.”

You studied him, genuinely seeing him for the first time, actually seeing him. And yeah, he was still smug and obnoxious and had no business being that attractive, but there was something else under all that bravado. Something… sharp.

Smart.

You sat up straighter and crossed your arms. “Okay then, genius. Finish the calculations. I want a break.”

He gave you a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

And then, without hesitation, he got to work. Unit conversions, sig figs, the whole thing.

You didn’t know what was more alarming: that Claggor was solving stoichiometry like it was Sudoku… or that watching him do it was, somehow, infuriatingly hot.

You weren’t sure what kind of rom-com hell you’d just stumbled into, but one thing was painfully clear.

You were so screwed.

#claggor x reader #my fic #claggor arcane #arcane #au claggor

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softiekatz · 13 days ago

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starved - au!claggor/fem!reader

“in which claggor eats pussy like a man starved”

wc: 2.2k

mdni!

warnings: degradation mostly

(also posted on ao3)

When you started dating Claggor, you assumed he’d be kind of vanilla in bed. Sweet, maybe a little awkward, definitely the type to ask before kissing you and apologize if he got too rough. And that was fine. You liked him for who he was. He was steady, thoughtful, gentle with his hands.

But the first time he got between your legs, all of that got ripped to shreds.

Claggor eats like a man who’s been starving his whole life, and you’re the only meal that ever mattered. There’s nothing slow or sweet about the way he goes down on you—no teasing, no warm-up. He gets your legs spread and dives in like he’s drowning and you’re the only air left in the world.

Messy doesn’t even begin to describe it.

You feel the stubble on his jaw scrape against your thighs, his hands bruising your hips as he drags you down the bed to where he wants you. His tongue is relentless, his lips slick and parted, gasping against you like he can’t get enough. Every sound he makes is soaked in hunger; wet, desperate, fucking obscene. He moans into your cunt like it’s his favorite song, and he hums when you twitch or cry out, like he’s proud of it. Every movement, every lap of his tongue, is frenzied and raw, like if he dies tonight, this is exactly how he wants to go out.

And the worst part? He talks while he does it.

Filthy, degrading things that make your spine arch and your hands scrabble against the sheets.

“You like that, don’t you? Fucking soaking. You want me to clean up your mess like the little slut you are?”

You gasp, eyes wide, because Claggor, sweet, soft-spoken Claggor, is gripping your thighs and snarling between them like he owns you. His voice is wrecked, half-muffled by your slick, and he doesn’t stop . Not when you cry out. Not when you beg. Not even when you shake so hard the bed creaks beneath you.

“I could live down here,” he growls. “You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Let me keep my face buried in this perfect little pussy all fucking day.”

He slaps your thigh when you try to pull away, like he’s angry you even thought of it.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

You’re not sure if you’re sobbing from pleasure or just the overload, but you can't stop trembling. You weren’t ready for this. No part of you was prepared for him —not like this. He devours you like he’s been dreaming of it for years, like every filthy fantasy he’s ever had is crashing down on you at once, and he finally gets to ruin you with it.

And the way he looks up at you; mouth soaked, chin glistening, eyes burning. And you realize he’s only just getting started.

You barely get a breath in before he dives back, tongue sliding into you so deep your vision whites out. You try to lift your hips, try to squirm away, but Claggor growls and slams your thighs down, pinning you in place with nothing but the weight of his arms and that goddamn mouth.

"You don't get to run from me," he snarls into you, lips dragging over your soaked skin. "You started this, baby. Now you’re gonna fucking take it."

His voice is low and wrecked, full of heat and hunger and something far more dangerous. And you do. You take it. You lie there, writhing under him as he feasts on you like it’s his last night alive, like every twitch and gasp you give him is another hit of oxygen. His tongue works you over with ruthless precision, flicking, dragging, circling your clit just enough to make your whole body lock up and then pulling away like he knows what he’s doing to you.

Sadistic.

You moan, hands flying to his hair. You try to tug him up, try to pull him into a kiss, into anything, but he just growls again and grabs your wrists, slamming them down above your head with one big, shaking hand.

"I said stay down," he pants. His voice is soaked in need. "You're not gonna fucking distract me. This is mine tonight."

He goes right back to it , practically shaking from how hard he’s grinding into the bed, desperate for any friction while he devours you. The noises are filthy; slick, wet, greedy. He slurps and moans like a man possessed, mouth shining with your arousal, and when you glance down through hazy eyes, fuck... the look on his face is downright obscene.

He’s loving it.

He’s addicted .

“You taste like heaven, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue in slow, devastating strokes. “Like you were made for me to eat.”

You’re crying, you realize. A choked, helpless sound escapes your throat as you try to hold on, try not to cum again but Claggor knows . He feels it.

"Don’t you dare hold back," he says, voice hot against your soaked skin. "You give it to me. Be a good little thing and fucking give it to me."

And when you break, when your body finally gives in and you scream through your climax, he doesn’t stop . Of course he doesn't

He just keeps licking , sucking you through it like he's trying to pull your soul out through your cunt. You twitch and gasp, hips shaking so hard you nearly throw him off, but he holds you down and keeps going . He's going to kill you. You’re going to die like this. Shaking and soaked and sobbing while Claggor wrecks you from the inside out with nothing but his fucking mouth .

Eventually, finally, he pulls away with a gasp, face flushed, lips swollen, chin soaked.

He looks dazed. Wrecked.

Like he just found God in the way you tasted.

"Fuck," he pants, voice rough. "You should see yourself right now."

You’re too far gone to speak, legs still trembling, eyes glassy, but that just makes him grin, slow and crooked, as he leans over you and presses a hand between your thighs, spreading you open again.

"Think you're done? Baby, I’m just getting started."

You don’t know how long you lay there; boneless, wrecked, still twitching from the aftershocks, but Claggor doesn’t give you much time to recover. He’s already climbing over you, his body heavy and hot, caging you in with arms that tremble from restraint. His face is still soaked in you, lips swollen and slick, and he doesn’t wipe it away.

No. He wants you to see it.

Wants you to remember what he just did.

"You’re fuckin’ shaking," he murmurs, voice low and guttural as he presses the head of his cock against your entrance. "Look at you. Already ruined. And I haven’t even fucked you yet."

You whimper, but it just makes him grin, sharp and cruel. That look in his eyes... it’s nothing like the sweet, quiet guy you started dating. No, this is something else. Something darker. Rougher. Unleashed.

He grabs your jaw and makes you look at him.

"You gonna cry when I put it in?" he murmurs, voice rough. "That how tight you are, baby?"

You nod, but it doesn’t matter, he’s already pushing in.

Slow , but not gentle. He stretches you open inch by inch, groaning like he’s finally home. The stretch burns, even with how wet you are, and your fingers claw at his shoulders, nails dragging red down his back.

“Fuck, yes ,” he hisses, bottoming out with a brutal snap of his hips. “You feel that? That’s how a good little thing gets used.”

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t let you adjust. He just pulls back and slams back in, and again, and again, the sound of skin on skin loud and filthy in the room. Every thrust is mean; deep and hard, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. You’re already gone, already gasping, and he loves it. Drinks in every broken moan, every sobbed-out plea like he’s earned it.

"You didn’t expect this, did you?" he grunts into your ear. “Thought I was gonna be soft, didn’t you? Thought I’d light some candles, ask for permission, maybe whisper sweet nothings while I fucked you like a virgin.”

He laughs, low and cruel, and fucks you harder.

“No, baby. I’m gonna break you. ”

He grabs your legs and throws them over his shoulders, folding you in half like it’s nothing, hitting even deeper . You scream his name and he smirks , sweat dripping from his brow, mouth dragging down your neck.

“Such a good hole for me,” he grunts. “So tight, so wet—fuck, I could live in you. You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Let me fuck you open every night until you can’t walk ?”

You’re babbling nonsense now—"yes, please, don’t stop"—and it only fuels him more. He keeps your legs pinned up, rutting into you like a man possessed. Like he needs this more than air.

“Gonna cum inside you,” he growls. “Gonna fill you up until you’re leaking down your thighs. You want that? Want me to fuck it so deep you feel me for days ?”

Your orgasm crashes into you so hard it hurts; your whole-body tensing, throat raw from the sounds tearing out of you. And Claggor doesn’t stop. Not when you cum. Not when you scream. He fucks you through it, makes you take it.

“You cum when I tell you to,” he snarls, fingers bruising your hips. “You don’t cum without my permission, you hear me?”

You nod, dazed and shaking.

“Good girl.”

When he finally cums, it’s with a snarl, hips jerking, cock pulsing deep inside you as he spills everything into you, panting and groaning your name like a prayer.

And even then, even after you’re wrecked and ruined and boneless beneath him, he doesn’t pull out.

He just stays there, cock still buried inside, hand wrapped around your throat, eyes locked on yours with a lazy, dangerous smirk.

You don’t know when you stopped moaning and started gasping for breath.

Your limbs are trembling; fingers numb from clutching the sheets so hard. You’re spread open, flushed, soaked inside and out, body buzzing like you just survived something dangerous, and maybe you did. Claggor’s weight is still on top of you, warm and heavy, cock softening inside you while his breath comes in hot pants against your neck.

And then… like someone flipped a switch… he melts .

He blinks down at you, pupils still blown but soft now, gentle, like he’s seeing you clearly again for the first time.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers, brushing your hair back with trembling fingers. “Shit. Are you okay? Was that—was that too much?”

The whiplash nearly makes you laugh. Your throat is raw, your thighs are aching, your chest still rising and falling like you just ran ten miles, and now he’s cupping your face like you’re made of glass. That sweet , almost bashful concern in his voice feels like something out of a dream.

You blink up at him, dazed. “Are you okay?”

Claggor huffs a soft, sheepish laugh and kisses your forehead.

“I’m good, I just—fuck, I got a little carried away. You were just… so good. Let me take care of you now, yeah?”

You nod, boneless and blinking, and he’s already moving, pulling out of you with a soft apology, easing your legs down from his shoulders with a gentle rub. He’s murmuring under his breath the whole time, little praises and soft reassurances like you didn’t just get absolutely wrecked by him ten seconds ago.

"You're amazing, baby. Did so good for me. So perfect. My perfect girl."

He disappears for a moment and returns with a warm towel, carefully wiping between your legs like he’s handling something precious. He keeps murmuring soft nothings while he cleans you up—"Almost done, sweetheart. Just a little more. Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

And then he’s bundling you in his arms, pulling you into his chest like you didn’t just watch him degrade you until you sobbed. He kisses your temple. Your cheek. Your shoulder.

“You were amazing,” he says again, more serious this time. “I know I got kind of intense. I just—fuck. I don’t wanna scare you off.”

You blink up at him, still in that strange, floaty haze. “You’re scaring me more right now , honestly.”

He pulls back a little, frowning, confused. “Wait, what?”

You gesture weakly at him. “You were literally just saying the filthiest shit I’ve ever heard in my life and now you’re wiping me down like I scraped my knee.”

Claggor blinks. And then he laughs; a soft, genuine sound that rumbles through his chest.

"Yeah, well… I like taking care of my girl. Doesn’t mean I don’t like fucking her dumb first."

You groan and bury your face in his chest. “You’re so confusing.”

He kisses your hair, still smiling. “You love it.”

And the worst part is… you do .

Because yeah, Claggor might fuck like he’s feral, like he’s trying to break you—but after?

He cradles you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.

And maybe that’s what makes it feel so damn good.

#claggor x reader #arcane claggor #au claggor #writing #my writing #smut #whatever #trying to keep the claggor fandom alive #arcane

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