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hyper-fixates · 9 months ago

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Time After Time

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 15.2k never let me near him again

Tags/warnings: age-gap due to logan’s mutation (reader’s age not specified), mutant!reader, unprotected sex, teasing, friends to lovers, explicit language, dry humping, storm cameos, fluff, domesticity, the claws come out when he’s close (👁️👁️), detailed descriptions & scenes of nightmares/trauma/PTSD/panic attacks, one (1) ass smack, alcohol consumption, vomiting, biting/marking, angst, soft!logan, creampie, groping/touching, use of “baby” once, aftercare, yearning (kindly let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: 4 times you end up in Logan’s bed, and the 1 time he does something about it.

Notes: this falls somewhere in between “which could mean nothing” and “we can fix each other” 🫡 (written with a mix of X1 & X2 logan!)

Your heart, despite always being alive and beating, sometimes wakes up before you.

You can feel it before your eyes even have a chance to open. It jolts your sleep-ridden body and collapses your lungs without giving your brain a chance to fight against it. Muscles and limbs feel lifeless and detached from your body, shaking from the sleep that your heart knows wasn’t completely dreamless.

You kick the blankets off of yourself and sit up in a panic, trying to regain some control of your sudden erratic breaths while bringing a lethargic hand to your heaving chest in hopes to ground yourself. It never works.

Maybe your ribs are shrinking and squeezing your lungs, making you delirious from the lack of oxygen, but you know that’s not the case. Your heart feels like it’s being squeezed and broken into a million tiny pieces.

No part of your body feels real, yet you keep your hand on your chest as firmly as you can, trying to focus on controlling the pounding of your heart that’s working so hard with each beat that it hurts.

“Fuck. Fuck,” you choke out, feeling the tears finally breach and roll down your cheeks as your nervous system catches up to what’s happening.

Panic. It’s all panic.

You can’t do anything but sit there and let the tears hit the freshly-washed fitted sheet on your bed. So you let it happen. Nothing can stop it.

Trauma is such a fickle thing. One moment you’re fine, and then the next, your heart is screaming at you and forcing your body to process something at 4 a.m. on a random Friday when all you wanted was some goddamn sleep.

There is no choice. Your mind doesn’t give you one.

The tremors subside slowly after a few minutes, giving you the feeling back to your arms and legs, albeit minimal.

You slide to sit at the edge of your bed, resting an elbow on your thigh and setting your chin into your palm with a defeated, yet shaky, huff.

You look to your window and see that the sun hasn’t even started to rise yet. You’ll be up for the rest of the foreseeable morning, but there’s not much to do so early besides wander aimlessly and think…then think some more.

You’re confident the professor isn’t even awake at this hour, which says enough about your state. You would typically go visit Storm for some comfort, but she’s been gone fuck-knows-where with Hank and Scott until Sunday at the latest. Thanks, Charles.

A questionable, and probably manic, decision comes to mind. One that’s only two doors down, one over from Storm.

Your impulsive feet make up your mind for you. The cold hardwood floor shocking you further into consciousness as if your heart didn’t do a good enough job.

You tiptoe a couple steps down the hall, forcing yourself to turn and face the large wooden door when you reach it. You just stand there staring at it, unknocking, analyzing the wood grains, suddenly very interested in what type of wood it is and what stain was used to—

“Uh. Are you okay?”

You refocus your eyes onto the man now standing in front of you in the doorway, adorning a barely-zipped school hoodie and black sweats.

“Huh?” You blink a few times, disoriented.

Logan quirks a brow, looking you up and down cautiously. “Are you okay?” He asks again, offering a look of concern—or maybe confusion—that you haven’t seen often. A look that’s never needed to be directed towards you.

You come back to yourself. “But—I…didn’t knock,” you respond, looking equally as confused as him as you point to the door.

He leans against the edge of the door, face softening. “I could smell you before you passed Storm’s room,” he clarifies, a hint of reluctance in his tone. Oh.

You feel like a child who has just gained awareness, all too conscious of your situation.

“You’re…awake?” Is all you manage despite probably needing to say much more than that to explain just why exactly you’re standing outside Logan’s room at 4 a.m.

“So are you,” he counters with a curious look. “So let me ask again. Are you okay?” He locks his eyes on yours, probably in hopes to understand why the fuck you’re outside his room at 4 a.m.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” you say, and it’s the truth.

You should probably be embarrassed. You show up at Logan’s door unannounced, dressed in a flimsy shirt and matching sweats—thanks, Charles—that can’t fully hide the remaining quivers throughout your body.

Logan pulls his lips together at your admission. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head trying to figure you out.

“Can’t sleep?” He questions, but he knows he’s right.

“Yeah.” You don’t know why you’re making it Logan’s problem, though. Sure, he happens to be awake, but maybe this is all too personal to push on the guy who’s seemingly all pride and no solicitude most of the time.

It’s not that he’s not a good, nice guy, but you don’t know how you would define your relationship, or lack of.

You know each other well enough from existing in the same space over the past couple months, being part of the same “team”, but it’s nothing to call a close friendship like you and Storm. He’s a bit of a rare species in the mansion, not really lingering around.

He cocks his head in a half shrug, the soft points in his hair broken by sleep shake gently with the movement.

“I don’t think I can help you,” he says wearily. “I’m no better. Clearly.” He gestures between you, drawing attention to the fact that you’re both awake. The helpless cannot help the helpless.

“Oh—no, I’m not looking for help. I think I’m beyond that at this point,” you laugh but stop yourself short when Logan doesn’t follow. Tough crowd.

“I, uh, don’t actually know what I’m looking for,” you offer.

You knit your brows together in thought, still wondering why the fuck you’re here. Comfort? Entertainment? Some other unknown third thing?

“I’m not really used to Storm being gone for so long,” you admit. “I just feel…all over the place, I guess.”

Logan considers your vulnerability for a beat, eyes flicking to yours. “I can hear you sometimes,” he says, a knowing—almost sympathetic—look on his face. “We have the same problem.”

You go cold, any expression you had on your face sliding away. You wish the floor could swallow you right now. You know things have been getting worse recently, but you didn’t think anyone could hear that fact. Maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise from someone who could smell you from down the hallway.

He steps back, pulling his door open further. An invitation.

You don’t move right away. Could this be a false awakening? You’re not sure what you expected when you came to his door, but you also didn’t expect him to open it without you knocking, so you have to suspend disbelief for now. You figured he’d offer a few words of advice and dismiss you, or maybe even tell you to fuck off, but he opened his door wider for you. But you didn’t exactly think any of it through in the first place anyway.

You force your feet to carry you into Logan’s room. It’s not much different from yours; scarce belongings, minimal decor, a small work desk, brown curtains that are drawn back, and a bed.

“Were you, uh…sleeping before I came?” You sit on the unmade bed, nothing noticeably different from it compared to yours.

He shuts the door quietly, moving to the small desk across the room and filing some scattered papers together neatly.

“Trying to,” he says, keeping his gaze on the desk.

Fucking duh. “Sorry if I disturbed you,” you wince to yourself.

You see him briefly shake his head at your unnecessary apology. “I had to get up anyway.” His voice is still gravelly from sleep.

It feels like you’re invading his space. But he invited you in. How many others have had the opportunity to be in here? Probably too many. There’s nothing to make this special.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” you sigh, flopping back on his bed defeated. Simply overwhelmed with the uncontrollable repercussions of your mutation.

“Try to sleep. If you want,” he offers, moving to the edge of the bed. “It’s easier said than done, but I have to meet with Charles in an hour.” It’s gruff, but he’s sincere.

Maybe the professor is awake after all.

You roll your head to the side to look at him. Was he really offering for you to stay in his bed?

“Oh, wow…uh, sure.” It comes off as more of a question, but he quirks his brows in acknowledgment, turning back to the desk and collecting a handful of other miscellaneous papers.

“I have to head downstairs and take care of some things. Stay as long as you need,” he says, zipping his sweater the rest of the way up. Thank God in heaven.

A shy “thanks” is all you manage as you situate yourself on the bed.

Is this fucking weird? You could name a handful of others in the mansion right this second that would kill without hesitation to be where you are. They’d probably kill you specifically to get it. It’s not much of a secret that Logan is the subject of almost all students’ desires. He knows it, too.

“See you later,” he adds, his lips forming the slightest hint of a caring smile as he sees himself out. You throw one back before the door clicks shut.

Should you be offended that he didn’t stay? That he left so quickly? No, no, he can’t. He couldn’t. Charles is expecting him. The timing is just horrid. But now you’re just…alone…in Logan’s room, expected to sleep because of a random act of kindness in his heart.

Lying in his bed instead of yours is an odd sensation. The sheets and mattress are exactly the same, the pillows are just as fluffy, yet it feels unalike.

You flop your head on his pillow, tugging the blankets up to your chin. Your fingers graze something by your hip as you settle in, making you push the blanket back down. Leaning over, you see three puncture marks in the mattress, fraying the bedsheet material into feather-soft strands around the deep holes.

Your eyes widen, remembering his words before he invited you in: “We have the same problem.”

Part of your heart fractures for the second time today. Your eyes cross over to the other side of you, seeing a matching set of holes just below the pillow. It’s suddenly easy to understand why no one besides him has been seen coming and going from this room in a while. One day, things just seemed to change.

Maybe his act of kindness was an act of mercy. Trauma will always find you, and it will make sure you feel it until you either destroy it or it destroys you.

Even the Wolverine isn’t an exception.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

The gold liquid is gone from the glass as quickly as it was poured.

Your throat clenches and protests the swallow as you try to suppress the urge to gag. You gently set the shot glass back on the counter, watching Storm chase with a piece of lime that does nothing to help the puckered face she makes from the tequila.

“No more, no more. I can’t.” Your arms anchor you to the counter to stop yourself from swaying too much.

Storm nods, still fighting off the sourness with furrowed brows and a scrunched nose. You giggle at her when she quickly screws the cap back on the bottle, sliding it out of reach.

“You’re a bad influence,” she scolds as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“No—I’m under the influence,” you counter, a playful smile on your lips. “There’s a difference. You still have your own free will.”

Storm rolls her eyes so hard you only see the whites of them. “We have training tomorrow,” she slurs. “Charles will not be happy if we show up half-conscious.” She rounds the counter to you, grabbing your shoulders for stability, and you do the same.

“He’ll be lucky if we show up at all,” you mumble.

The dim kitchen lighting embraces the two of you, the rest of the mansion blanketed in darkness with everyone fast asleep—like you both should be.

You close your eyes with a roll of your neck, more giggles falling through your lips as you clumsily grab onto Storm and rock and sway together for a moment, the alcohol quickly catching up to your motor skills. It feels like you’re spinning through time and space, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel fucking euphoric. At this rate, neither of you will be able to make it back to your rooms.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You lose a bit of your balance as you try to find the resonant voice, eyes shooting open. Storm unintentionally startles and stumbles away from you, white hair also jumping from the excitement.

You grab onto the counter again, sucking in a deep breath. “Fuck, don’t do that,” you growl through your teeth, a hand on your chest as you try to calm yourself.

“Don’t do what? Come to the shared kitchen to grab a drink?” Logan huffs a laugh, an amused smile creeps to his lips as he takes in your drunk and shaken state from the entryway.

“Doesn’t anyone sleep in this place?” He mumbles to himself.

“And with that, I’m done for the night,” Storm chuckles, fixing her hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her eyes lock intensely on yours, index finger firmly poking the middle of your chest to make her point for you to show up to training very clear.

“See you, Logan,” she dismisses, stumbling as she passes him.

Logan shakes his head, still smiling. He steps to the fridge, opening the double doors and plucking a bottle of soda from the bottom shelf. No alcohol is readily available in the communal fridge because, after all, you’re all in a school full of kids, so Storm had to get creative; Scott will be missing a rather large bottle from the now not-so-secret stash in his room.

As the alcohol continues to settle in you, you feel more and more lightheaded as it brings you to a new level of euphoria again. You only know this because watching Logan pop the cap of his drink with mindless ease feels a little more exciting than it would be if you were sober. But you’re not sober, and that’s the problem.

“Not gonna follow Storm?” He asks, taking a generous sip from the bottle as he casually places his free hand on the counter to lean on across from you.

A tight smile forms, mostly to yourself. “I don’t think I can make it down the hall,” you laugh in embarrassment. Maybe that last shot was one too many, and it’s not even fully done working its magic yet.

Logan raises a brow. “Want some help?” There’s no judgement in his tone like you expect. Then again, you don’t know what the fuck to expect from him.

Your already half-closed eyes, blurry and unfocused, meet his hazel ones in interest. Another favour?

It’s been two weeks since he let you sleep off the nightmares in his bed. Two weeks since you learned he’s burdened with them, too. You traced the holes in the mattress over and over before you eventually fell asleep, wondering what—or who—could have hurt him so badly. He plays it off cool; you wouldn’t suspect anything from talking to him. The same could probably be said about you.

“I didn’t know wolverine’s were chivalrous,” you tease.

The yellow hue of the lights dance over the quaffed points in his hair, making them appear sharper than usual. You would never admit it, especially to him, but you adore them. They give him an absurd amount of character that you’d expect a guy like him to not care about.

You’re not exactly complaining about the fitting grey tank-top he has on either.

“Not overly,” he plays along, taking another mouthful of the fizzy drink. “I like to think I’m special,” he says quieter.

“Maybe you are,” you say as you try and straighten yourself to see if you can stand unassisted.

The world tilts as you stand to your full height, eyes rolling into your head from the wave of dizziness. “Wow, okay,” you say to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the spinning. How many shots did you have again?

A warm hand presses between your shoulders. “Woah, nice and easy. Nice and easy.” Logan appears by your side to steady you, other hand grabbing your elbow to pull you straight. You wobble in his grip, letting him guide your useless, alcohol-ridden body.

His hand on your back rubs a few small, comforting circles as you work to regain your bearings. He watches your expressions intently, looking for the right moment to get you moving back to your room safe and sound.

Your arm crosses over your body out of instinct to grab the hand he has on your elbow for extra support.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He seems to ask you that a lot.

You lean into him, your shoulder to his chest, and you can feel the blackout creeping up on you like humidity from a thunderstorm—it’s usually too late to do anything once you notice it.

“I drank a lot,” you laugh deeply, rolling your head onto his shoulder to look up at him.

He looks so much more delicate under the ambient lights—his usual defined features have shifted and melted him into someone that doesn’t look like they should be a feared animal out in the world.

Logan all but cradles you, that same look of concern crossing his features from the night you went to his door. The only difference is that you’ve had a generous amount of tequila—and are currently being kept alert by the hot touch of his hands. That’s new.

“Can you walk?” He holds your squinty eye contact, probably searching for any signs of a coherent thought behind the blissful expression on your face. “Or will I have to carry you?” He muses, a hint of a smile crosses his lips as his hand moves up to gently rub over your shoulders.

Drunk you likes the sound of anything relating to Logan keeping his hands on you right now. You wonder what sober you would think.

“I’m not gonna tell you no, but it feels like I’m floating in a bubble that won’t stop spinning,” you hum as you let the sensation consume your senses. “I might fly away.” You dip your head back off of his shoulder in amusement as you laugh again.

“Yeah, you’re fucked up,” he mumbles lovingly. Just like anyone else who’s concerned for your well-being would.

“Hey, kitty cat—I’m perfectly buzzed,” you emphasize the teasing nickname, narrowing your eyes at him sternly as you bring your gaze back to his in defence.

“‘Kitty cat’? Really?” He snorts. “I think you’re past your bedtime by three drinks,” he remarks back with equal levity.

“Then take me to bed if you’re so concerned,” you sigh dramatically, going limp in his arms to make your point.

Truthfully, you’re probably past your bedtime by five shots. But he doesn’t need to know that. You just know that you can’t control your limbs like you were able to ten minutes ago.

“Maybe I will.” You don’t see it, but he does his quick little eye roll that you’ve seen pointed towards Scott too many times.

He slides the hand on your elbow down to the backs of your knees, pulling you up off the floor and into his chest as you fall into the arm that was rubbing your back.

Oh, so it’s gonna be like that.

An excited—or maybe shocked—noise escapes your mouth as he adjusts you in his arms. You extend your right arm up and over his shoulder to hug his neck and keep yourself stable.

The trip to your room isn’t one that should take long, but each sway from Logan’s steps goes straight to your stomach in waves of queasiness. It feels like forever before you feel him bend awkwardly to turn your doorknob.

You’re fighting to keep yourself conscious the entire time, not wanting to regret missing the feeling of being in his arms.

The room is only lit by the silver moonlight creeping through the window. It’s hard to distinguish anything through your bleary eyes besides Logan’s look of determination to get you in your bed.

He leans down, shuffling you out of his arms and onto the mattress as swiftly as possible. The care of it all pokes at your heart.

He silently goes around each corner of the bed adjusting the blankets. It may be dark, but the moonlight highlights the peaks of his shoulders as he moves. Your eyes might be involuntarily half-shut, but that doesn’t stop you from staring.

You’re now probably no better than every other mutant in this school.

“Logan,” you start before you can fully process the foolish thing you’re about to say next.

He rounds the bed back to the side you’re huddled on, looking down on you. “Yeah?” The subtle jingle of his dog tag pierces the quiet that’s lingering in the room.

You part your lips to speak but the words die in your throat. They’re replaced by a flood of saliva that has you sitting up at a speed that shouldn’t be possible for someone as intoxicated as you. You cover your mouth with your hand, feeling your stomach churning and finally rejecting the tequila.

You suddenly feel very awake.

“Hey, hey.” Logan squats down in front of you with his already permanently-furrowed brows pinched closer together than you’ve ever seen before, a hand coming to your shoulder in concern. “What—”

“Bathroom,” you mumble through your palm, eyes rolling shut at the nausea.

He doesn’t say another word. He pulls you to your feet by your arms, walking behind you fiercely with his hands gripping your shoulders to guide you to the small bathroom across the room.

You push the door open, falling to your knees in the darkness over the toilet as the mistakes from the night expel themselves from your body through rounds of coughing and gagging. He lingers in the doorway, keeping an eye on you but still giving you privacy.

“Fuck,” you cough, resting your warm forehead on your hand as you slump against the toilet. That definitely sobered you up fast.

Exhaustion hits you like a truck. “Logan…” you croak from your crumpled position on the tile floor.

He steps in, bending down again to reach your height. You can barely make out the shadow of him in the fading moonlight.

“Just…help me back to bed,” you groan, reaching for his arm as you use the toilet seat to push yourself the rest of the way up. You stumble against him as you try to make it back through the doorway.

He guides you to the bed the same way he did to the bathroom—steering you from behind.

“I’m gonna get you some water,” he says as you settle back into bed, head hitting the pillow with a quiet thud. “Even though you did this to yourself.”

“Fuck off,” you groan.

You close your eyes, hearing his footsteps fade back toward the bathroom. You hear the tap run for a couple seconds before he’s next to you again, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Drink. All of it,” he says firmly, holding the cup out to you.

You sit back up slowly, no doubt lethargic, an unimpressed look on your face that earns you a raised brow that tells you there’s no room to object.

You finish the cup in four mouthfuls, handing it back to him. “Thanks.”

You fall back onto the pillow, no longer feeling like you’re travelling through space and time.

The clothes you’re in are close enough to pyjamas. There’s no sense in undressing in front of Logan, especially with what you were about to say to him before you were rudely interrupted by the consequences of your own actions.

He returns the cup to the bathroom and you pull the blanket over your waist as you hopefully settle in for the rest of the night. You owe him big time for this. The thought of just how exactly you’ll manage that fills you with anxiety.

You turn on your side, fingers sliding over the mattress with the movement. They graze familiar strands of feather-soft fabric by the pillow.

This is Logan’s room. Are you just that drunk that you couldn’t tell the difference when he brought you in? Or are your rooms just that similar to each other?

You dip a finger in one of the three holes, hearing the bathroom door click shut as Logan makes his way back.

“Why am I in your bed?” You see him rustling through some drawers of clothing by the small desk, but he stops when you finish your question.

“You can’t take care of yourself tonight,” he says. “You’re too drunk.” He pulls the grey tank-top off, stuffing it in one of the drawers and shutting it.

You sit up at that, head still foggy and tipsy, watching him move to the foot of the bed across from you. You try to focus your eyes on anything but his bare chest and the dark hair that adorns it and trails down past the waistband of his sweats. His hair is somehow even more wild from mindlessly pulling the tank-top over his head.

“Ah. I was gonna ask you to stay anyway,” you reveal, almost whispering the bold confession.

You were planning to ask before the tequila decided to make another appearance, but maybe doing it this way isn’t so bad either. He did all the heavy-lifting.

A modest, tight-lipped smile graces his lips. “I think you still have some tequila to sleep off.”

Whether or not you still have some shots in your system, what you feel and want right now is real. It’s not influenced by anything besides some mild andronitis created by the fact that you share a common struggle.

“Is it…safe? To share a bed?” The most coherent thought you’ve had all night makes him stiffen from your sudden nervous tone. Your body could easily replace the mattress and become a new home for the deep punctures.

Your eyelids have been fighting against being pulled shut by alcohol-induced drowsiness, yet your eyes are wider than they’ve been all night in this moment.

You’re sat right in the middle of the bed and Logan comes around to the right, sitting on the edge of the mattress to come down to your level.

“You’re just gonna have to trust me.” His eyes are imploring and apologetic all at once. He understands the prospect of even having you here in the first place.

You nod, sliding over to the left to give him more room.

Logan wouldn’t put you in harms way, you reason with yourself. He wouldn’t risk potentially killing someone, especially a fellow mutant, if he wasn’t absolutely sure of his mental state. But you also don’t really know his demons.

You roll onto your right side, tugging the blanket up to your chin in comfort. “Why haven’t you been given a new mattress?” You ask as he turns to face you in the same position, his half of the blanket resting at his hip.

The bed dips significantly on his side, almost encouraging you to roll over against him.

“Forgot to ask,” he says quietly, running his right hand through his hair to push the shorter strands off his forehead.

From his tone you can decipher that he actually means “can’t be bothered.” It’s a devastating thing to imagine just how many he goes through, anyway. He probably doesn’t see the point in replacing something that will inevitably have the same fate as the others.

There has to be less than an arms length between you two. It’s a surreal situation to be in considering what you thought you knew about him. A recluse. Standoffish. Maybe it’s all a fluke and the alcohol is severely fucking with your perception of what’s actually happening.

“Thanks for everything,” you whisper as if someone else will overhear.

“Get some sleep,” he insists, rolling onto his back. You do the same.

You stare at the blank ceiling for a while, noticing the exact moment Logan falls asleep; his breathing grows slow and his body runs even hotter than before.

You think about how he could wake at any moment, claws accidentally sliding right through your stomach from a nightmare or two. You imagine all the others that have been in your position—if they felt scared, if they even knew.

He asked you to trust him, and that should be enough.

There is a body full of secrets and hurt sleeping undisturbed next to you with the ability to withstand and regenerate from any physical injury, yet there’s something that hasn’t allowed the same to be done for his mind.

━━━━

The bright amber sun hits your closed eyes through the window, making you roll your head away onto the other side of the cool pillow.

You want more sleep. Your head feels like a bag of bricks and your body feels like it got beat with them.

You stretch a leg out, gently grazing something solid with your foot. Your eyes shoot open, the night coming back to you as you drift into consciousness. Logan.

You shoot up, bouncing a little from the momentum.

Logan startles next to you, clearly interrupted from a deep sleep. “What the fuck…” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face, not seeming interested in making a move to sit up with you.

“What time is it?” Your eyes bounce around the room looking for a clock.

He grunts, reaching for a watch on the nightstand. “Seven-forty.”

You needed to be in the Danger Room for 7 o’clock.

“Fuck!” You rip the blanket off, almost tripping as you run to the bathroom.

Logan also wants to roll back over and go back to sleep, but he knows he won’t be able to. He doesn’t work like that. So he just lays there, listening to you swear and make a mess of his bathroom as the clattering of fuck-knows-what fills the room.

The surprise of how well he slept makes him feel uneasy. Although it definitely wasn’t eight hours, it was uninterrupted. He doesn’t want to credit that to you, though. He wants to believe that he’s getting better overall, and maybe he is, so he can’t offer you any flattery in his mind.

Another distant “fuck” escapes the bathroom, pulling him out of his thoughts. You exit a few minutes later, as refreshed and presentable as you could get yourself, and the sight of Logan still in bed makes something in you ache for another moment of feeling him care and tend to you. Maybe that’s your hangover talking.

“Thanks again. I’ll see you around,” you say hurriedly, offering an apologetic smile as you turn the doorknob to leave.

“Good luck with Charles.” It’s a genuine advisory. Fuck. You’ll be so incredibly lucky if he doesn’t give you more than a stern lecture in front of everyone.

You take a deep breath in and slip out of Logan’s room. There’s not a single cut, mark, or scratch on you, just like he promised.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“I was told it’ll take a day to fix,” Storm explains with a shrug. “You’ll have to find somewhere or someone to room with until tomorrow. Jean already offered to have me stay with her.” A contrite look passes over her face.

You stand outside your rooms, staring in at the remnants of the mess caused by two terrakinetic kids fucking around in the courtyard when they weren’t supposed to be. They somehow managed to throw, or launch, sizeable tree branches right through each of your windows. Of course it wasn’t on purpose, but the Danger Room exists for a reason—to avoid mishaps like this.

Shards of glass and fragments of wood splatter your floors. The branches are hanging half-way out both of your windows, caught on the window sills and bobbing in the evening summer wind. The kids are extremely fortunate that neither of you were in your rooms when it happened.

“It’s fine. It’s just one night,” you sigh, rubbing your eyes in frustration. You don’t love how quickly your mind picks out who to go to. It’s already nearing 11 p.m., so you have to work fast.

Storm squeezes your shoulder in comfort. “The living room is always free,” she suggests with a remorseful smile.

But you don’t want the living room. Stiff couches mixed with students clamouring and passing by at the crack of dawn isn’t exactly a recipe for a good nights rest. As if you usually get one, anyway.

“Not a fucking chance,” you laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you say again, dismissing her worries. You wish her goodnight when she steps by you to head towards Jean’s room at the very end of the hall.

You glare at the mess in your room, not daring to step in. The amount of shattered glass everywhere makes the floor look like a body of water from the reflections of the pale moonlight bouncing and refracting off of the jagged shards.

“Fuck,” you spit through your teeth, solely to yourself.

Not even a full week after Logan saw you at your worst, you’re going to go back and ask for the left side of his bed. Shameless.

You don’t have much of a choice; you’re not comfortable having it be anyone else. It’s only because Logan saw you at your worst that you feel he’s the most logical choice. Already having shared a bed with him this week may also have some weight in your decision.

You take the few self-assured steps to his room, once again standing in front of his door. This time you feel more confident in approaching the Wolverine in his den.

You knock three times, the piercing sound echoing through the hall.

“You start to miss me or what?” A bare chest enters your view. You note the dog tag hanging from his neck again before you find his unyielding gaze full of ambiguity, wondering why you’re here. Again.

You blink at him slowly in hilarity. “Ha, funny. Can I stay with you tonight?” You ask flatly, not thrilled with the situation, but not completely displeased with being here now. “My window—”

“I know what happened,” he interrupts. “Figured you’d go for the couch in the living room.” He looks at you more pointedly with teasing suspicion.

“I think you know no one would ever willingly choose to sleep out there,” you reason, running a hand over your face in both shame and defeat.

He makes a face that tells you “touché” and you smirk in satisfaction. “If you don’t mind giving up half of your bed again, I would really appreciate it. I promise I’m not trying to make this a habit,” you sigh. Spending the night in Logan’s bed three times in the past month has to be a record for anyone recently.

“I don’t think it would be a bad habit,” he argues. Oh. “C’mon.” He gives a jerk of his head to allow you in, his tufts of his hair bristling with the quick movement.

“Thanks,” you squeak. He wants you here?

He shuts the door behind you, following you to the bed that’s clearly already had him in it. The blanket rests in waves on the mattress that remind you of just how human Logan is despite his reputation and image.

“Do you have an early morning?” You ask, slipping under the blanket.

“No. Charles was feeling nice for once,” he raises his tone sarcastically to rag on Charles’ judgement, which has clearly been a much needed one before now.

“Not an early bird?” You roll onto your right side like last time, facing him as he settles on his back with a deep breath. The bed sinks in again where he lays, your body wanting to give in to the laws of gravity and fall into him.

“Fuck no,” he laughs lightly, eyes crinkling around the corners. It’s self-deprecating, but it’s still a genuine laugh. The condescension from it lingers in the air, all directed at himself in a way that tells you he’s thinking about how inconceivably fucked up he is.

The last time he had a decent sleep was when you were drunk in his bed a few days ago.

“People like us don’t usually get the pleasure of a full eight hours,” he notes, sliding his gaze to yours for a fraction of a second.

He props an arm behind his head, the other resting on his chest and idly twisting the dog tag between his fingers. You watch the thin piece of steel slide and flip easily, the chain tinkling with every movement.

People like us.

“You mean mutants,” you state. You see his jaw tense in what little light there is from the half-moon tonight.

You see his brows pull together. “Yeah.” He has a point.

You think about the mutants you know, how they all have some horrific story about their gifts or family, or both. How they either were shamed by society or experimented on like rats.

The scenarios are endless. If you can think of it, some mutant has probably lived it.

Your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach. You and Logan are not isolated or special cases, but you’ve already shared a moment of vulnerability with him when you came to his door all those weeks ago seeking solace for the same thing he fights with: the inescapable ability of remembering.

You pull the blanket tighter against you. “I don’t think you’ll hurt me.”

He turns his head to you, confusion written on his face. “What?” He stops toying with the dog tag.

“Your claws. I trust you.” You didn’t feel like you were in immediate danger that first night, but you want to reassure him anyway. Or maybe you’re reassuring yourself.

He hasn’t had to say a single word for you to know his nightmares trigger something instinctive and combative that’s been hardwired into his DNA. In this case, it’s his claws needing to find a home in his mattresses, where another body could potentially lay one night. Like yours is right now.

You noticed the lack of holes in this mattress when you first got to the bed. Maybe you mentioning them last time was enough for him to finally request a new one.

Logan knows he shouldn’t make promises he doesn’t know he’ll be able to keep, but he wants to keep you here tonight, so he improvises. He abandons the dog tag between his fingers completely, turning onto his side and reaching to find your hand under the blanket. You meet him halfway, sliding your fingers between his as your palms lay flat on the bed.

A smile tugs at your lips for a moment. He watches your interlinked fingers, observing the size difference, wondering if he really just did that—and why.

You assume it’s his way of saying “thank you” for your trust when you probably shouldn’t be putting that much into him.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, pulling your fingers out from his just enough to caress the divets between his knuckles that conceal the claws.

He knows what you’re asking. “Every time.” He softly pushes his fingers back into yours, squeezing a little.

There’s a deadly stillness in the room despite his window being cracked. You both know you’re one in the same in a way, and that’s a connection that Logan hasn’t let himself experience. Not everyone likes looking in a mirror.

To be truly seen by someone, wholly, without judgement or fear, is what he deserves.

“What are you?” He asks, rubbing his index finger back and forth along the top of your hand. “Telekinetic? Psychic?” His curious voice grows quiet, hazel eyes fascinated with you and your lack of a physical mutation, at least nothing that he can see.

It never occurred to you that he didn’t know your mutation, or that you’ve never told him. It was never needed, but it seems unfair that you know about his when he wasn’t the one who told you.

“Ha, close.” Your eyes twinkle as you notice how intently he’s listening. “Psychometric,” you correct, watching his forehead crease.

“Sounds like math,” he quips, readjusting his head on the pillow. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he’s putting off.

You laugh quietly. “No, it’s extrasensory perception. It lets me see the history of any object or person I touch, but only if I accept the energy,” you explain.

You watch his eyes narrow and you know what he’s thinking, so you quickly interject as he begins to pull his hand out from yours. “I need to touch a pulse point to be able to see anything,” you reassure, feeling his fingers slide back against yours. “The heart remembers everything,” you clarify.

The catch? The person’s memories and past stay with you after you see them. It’s become hard to distinguish what memories are yours or someone else’s. They all become intertwined. Good or bad, violent or gentle. You see it all, and then it’s part of you. Forever.

“I haven’t looked. I promise.”

“Good. You don’t need to see that shit,” he huffs, eyes wandering over your face. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for, but he’s a little startled for the first time in a while.

“I’m sure I’ve seen it all,” you state. It’s probably not far off from the truth. Your gift came when you were all too young, and plenty of time has passed since then for you to rack up this amount of damage from near-strangers and their lives.

“No, you haven’t.” A sure expression passes over him, shaking his head as best as he can against the pillow.

“Then I’ll count myself lucky,” you say softly. You have no idea what Logan has experienced, but his demeanor makes you want to stay curious. Not everything needs to be known, and you’re definitely not entitled to it.

A faint smile appears on his lips, then it’s gone just as quick. “Get some sleep,” he rasps. He turns onto his back and his hand abandons yours.

It’s a complete repeat of last time.

Something twinges in your heart, and you don’t like it. What exactly had you expected from Logan? He’s just doing you a courtesy by letting you stay here for the night. Nothing more. And that’s what you should expect: nothing.

The hum of crickets outside eventually lulls you into a dead sleep. It’s heavy and deep, not a single muscle twitching in your body. Logan breathes steadily next to you, a hand on his chest as the occasional snore fills the air.

From above you two might look like you’re transient, only here in this moment for a short time. And, realistically, you are.

━━━━

Logan was no where to be seen by the time you woke up, and you made quick work to get out of his room. It always feel wrong to be in someone’s space when they aren’t there.

Just like Storm said, the windows in your rooms were fixed the next day. It looks as though nothing even happened.

“Thank fuck,” you mumble to yourself as you step back into your room.

If you ever have to spend another night in Logan’s bed, you might as well wear a shirt that says “yes, we’re fucking!”, even if it isn’t true. You could deny it all you want, but it won’t stop what students would say. Nothing gets past them, even if it’s behind a closed door.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“Are you fucking Logan?”

You almost swallow your tongue. “Sorry?” Your brows shoot up in surprise, eyes round in disbelief.

“Are you guys sleeping together?” Storm casually asks as she flicks through the T.V. channels, glancing over to you from her spot on the couch.

You’re sat comfortably in an arm chair, suddenly no longer caring what channel she decides on. “Why would you think that?” Technically you were sleeping together, but not like that. It may never happen again, no matter how badly you want it to.

“Things travel fast around here,” she deflects with a cheeky smile. “And, you know, Logan is…Logan.” She shrugs.

You don’t even know what to say to that. Is there a right or wrong answer?

“It wasn’t like that,” you grumble. “He was doing me a favour. As a friend.” It hasn’t even been a full day since he let you stay with him while pieces of your window laid on your floor, and people are already convinced you’re fucking.

You haven’t even managed a chaste kiss, despite how much as you want to, never mind his dick being balls deep in you.

“Right.” She emphasizes the word, not convinced. Or just pushing your buttons because she can.

You roll your eyes. “If anything was happening, you’d be the first to know,” you point out.

She looks back over to you. “I know,” she says with another, more sincere, smile. “You two would be cute, though.”

You give her some side-eye, not quite sure if you disagree entirely with that statement. Whatever happens, happens. Logan is not something you can control or influence. He does what—and who—he wants, when he wants.

━━━━

A bolt of lightening strikes you. You gasp, then release a choked cry, eyes flying open as you claw at your chest in terror.

Your throat tightens and you break out in a cold sweat as you sit up. The soft blanket around you feels constricting. Sporadic and short breaths make you heave as your body registers the horrors in your subconscious.

There was never any lighting. That’s just what the pain feels like.

The muscles in your shoulders and neck tense from your panicked state as your heart struggles to keep a normal rhythm. You yank the blanket off, feeling weak from fear and the onset of tremors. Your whole body gives up on itself as you sob through broken exhales. Your legs have gone cold, lungs shrinking inch by inch with every passing minute.

You crawl to the edge of your bed, wanting to just get out and leave—the blanket. The bed. The room. Most of all, you want to escape your own mind.

You sink onto the floor when a foot touches the ground, and you realize walking isn’t in the cards right now. You’re shaking too badly to be able to physically move. All your strength is gone, robbed by your memories.

Balmy tears paint your face in determination, making sure no part of you is left untouched by this spell.

You screw your eyes shut, tears still slipping out with ease anyway. Leaning your back against the bed-frame, you curl into yourself and wrap your arms around your knees on the chilled hardwood.

You try to focus on your breathing to at least slow your heart down to a pace that doesn’t hurt.

Wounded cries rip their way out of you, interrupting the breaths you try to steady. A hand touches your arm and you yelp like an injured dog, flailing at the contact as your arms swing out from around your knees in shock.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s me.” Strong hands quickly wrap around each of your wrists to stop your arms from thrashing.

You try to focus your eyes, blurred and stinging from tears, on the person kneeling closely in front of you.

“L-Logan…” you whisper, balling your fists to try and expel the shakes.

He looks like someone who shouldn’t be able to be concerned about another person, yet the look on his face scares you. Brows pinched together in worry, eyes frantic, lips parted from heavy breaths. All because of you.

“It’s just me,” he hushes your cries. His thumbs stroke the undersides of your wrists tenderly, no doubt feeling your racing pulse.

You feel disoriented. “Wh…how…”

“I heard you,” he explains, watching you process everything. He drops your wrists when some recognition passes over your face.

“What do you need?” He follows your gaze as it wanders around the room, trying to keep you from spiralling further.

You look at him for a moment. He’s got his white tank-top on, the black sweats, and an intense need to help you written all over him. Fresh tears burn your cheeks as you come back into reality.

“I want it to fucking stop,” you weep, head falling into your hands in shame.

You don’t want him to see you like this, even though it’s a commonality between you two. It’s too intimate. You’d take him seeing you blackout drunk everyday of the year over this.

Then you do remember that it has stopped. Each time in Logan’s bed. There was silence. Peace. For the whole night. For both of you.

“Tell me what you need,” he says firmly, angling his head down to keep your eyes on him, desperately wanting an answer.

“You.” You suck in an agonizing breath to try and collect yourself.

He doesn’t flinch like you expect him to. If anything, his eyes become more pensive, clearly considering something. Then he shakes his head in wariness.

“C’mon. Let’s get you out of here,” he breathes, voice barely above a whisper. The only sound echoing in the room is your wobbly breathes, your body jerking with each one as you enter the aftermath and begin to go slack.

An arm slides behind your back, his hand grabbing ahold of your side while he pulls your legs over his other arm, picking you up off the floor.

He cradles you against him just like he did when you were drunk, carrying you out of your room.

He left your door open when he came in, and you hope no students heard or saw anything. He tilts to grab the doorknob, shutting it without a sound.

You wipe and rub at your eyes as Logan takes a few steps down the hall, quickly getting to where he needs to go when you feel him lean for his doorknob.

You’re sure a few rogue, leftover tears fall onto his shirt before he manages to sit on his bed lightly, you still curled tightly in his arms.

His hand pushes on your back for you to sit upright on his lap. “Face me,” he encourages, holding onto your sides as you twist around, bending your legs to slide over his thighs and straddle him loosely.

You look down at him, he looks up at you, feeling the quivers in your body dissipate as you melt further into his lap. A fondness crosses over both of your tired faces. He rests his arms over your thighs, warm hands linking behind your back as you do the same around his neck.

It’s nothing provocative or seductive. All you can feel is the care and concern rolling off of him in suffocating waves. He wants you to feel safe, and if that means overrunning your senses with his presence, then that’s what he’ll do.

“Got anything to say?” He murmurs, the fallen strands of hair around the edges of his forehead bristle with each move of his head. The rest of his hair fails to fully resemble the cat-like ears he had earlier in the day.

What does he want to hear?

You let your head hang a little, your nose almost brushing his. “I have nothing to say,” you assert, fidgeting with the chain of his dog tag at the nape of his neck.

You don’t necessarily feel embarrassed about him seeing you in such a helpless state, but you don’t want to simply unload your shit on him. So, in turn, you have nothing to say.

“Bullshit.” He almost rolls his eyes. There’s no real threat of him forcing you to say anything behind it. He won’t pry, but he doesn’t believe you.

An offended look overcomes your face, and you almost pull away. You don’t want to feel the humiliation of elaborating on just why exactly you said you needed him in this moment out of everything else.

“I just…” You roll your lips together in thought, measuring the words you could say but won’t. “Want to sleep. Here,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna go back.” You deflate in his arms, voice wobbly.

It’s already who-knows what time, and you need to pacify your wired nervous system; Logan simply holding you has already helped with that more than you want to admit.

His mouth quirks up briefly at that. “What happened to not wanting to make that a habit?” His eyes soften as his arms retract from around your sides, letting you slip easily onto his bed from his lap in a moment of calm, or relief.

Habit, if not resisted, soon becomes necessity.

“Special circumstances,” you reason, already pulling the blanket over you while he keeps his place at the edge of the bed, observing you with amusement.

“Seems like you get into those a lot,” he notes, pushing himself off the mattress.

He steps around to the other side—his designated spot—and slips the tank-top off, letting it drop to the floor. You’re not trying to be a freak, but you watch the whole thing.

The flex of his arms and shoulders are out of your mind as fast as they entered as you watch him hook his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats and pull them downright in front of you, not even turning around or to the side to try and conceal himself.

Your eyes widen, then you reel in your thoughts before they get lost at sea. No one who is sane fucking sleeps in sweatpants. Duh.

But didn’t he the last two times? It’s hard for you to remember, but you’d certainly recall if you were face-to-face with the outline of his di—

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.” Logan pulls his lips together, interrupting your thoughts. You try to not eyeball the bulge too hard, but it basically looked at you first.

The snug briefs do little to hide anything. They hide nothing, actually.

You almost scoff, but the playfulness in his tone tells you he couldn’t give a shit. He probably likes it anyway. From what you know, he definitely does.

“Oh, yeah, like you’ve ever cared about modesty,” you throw back, averting your gaze to the ceiling anyway.

It’s not that he runs around the mansion naked, but he definitely isn’t shy about what he looks like or against showing some skin. You’ve seen and heard enough over the past few months.

You hear a stifled chuckle as he joins you under the blanket without a retort. He knows you’re right. He’s just glad you’re a little lively and alert.

“Will you be okay for the rest of the night?” He brings both hands behind his head on the pillow, propping himself up a little.

“I should be fine,” you say confidently. “The challenge will be getting back to sleep.” You laugh in exasperation.

It’s always hard to calm down and get back to a place of tranquility after everything has settled with your mind. You’re pumped full of adrenaline and there’s not much that can curb something that persistent flowing through your body.

You haven’t found anything to help with it. Yet.

“There’s not many people that’ll understand what you go through,” he starts, voice rough with fatigue. “But I do.”

You look to him, sliding an arm under your pillow as you turn on your side. “How do you…help it.” You’re not sure if you phrased that right. It feels crude to reduce something so complex to the likes of a common cold that has an array of over-the-counter solutions.

“You don’t. It just has to run its course.” He looks to you, wanting to see your reaction.

It wasn’t meant to be hurtful or insensitive, but he’s not going to lie to you and say that things can only get better and that the worst is over. Especially for mutants, that’s not always true.

Although you don’t know what Logan lives with every day and sleeps with every night, you do know that his capacity for empathy is still intact. Here you are in his bed after all, seeing and indulging in a side of him that many never will.

You sigh lightly. “We’re quite the pair.”

A comfortable half-smirk slips over his lips. “I think we’re just fucked up insomniacs,” he suggests with a breathy exhale that’s close enough to a laugh.

You wish you could slide a thumb over the pulse in his wrist and see what’s haunting him, just to understand what happened to the Wolverine, but you’ve learned that doing so usually isn’t worth the price you’ll pay after. If what’s in his head is horrific enough to cause him to go through a couple mattresses a month, then it won’t do you any good either.

“I sleep pretty good with you,” you offer, seeing how he raises a brow in doubt almost instantly.

He sleeps well with you, too. It kind of rattled him when he noticed a pattern of uninterrupted nights and you being by his side. Not a single mattress ruined on those nights.

“Try not to knee me in the stomach tonight,” he deflects with ease. He takes his hands out from behind his head, sliding his left arm under the pillow as he turns over onto his side and closes his eyes. Facing you.

You mentally smack yourself. Multiple times. You didn’t think you drifted that much when you slept.

“No promises,” you mutter. You catch a small shake of his head before you let yourself join him in unconsciousness as you mirror each others lonely bodies.

━━━━

Your eyes ache—to open, to move, to touch. Enough crying will do that to you.Your eyelids are heavy, but there’s something else weighing down on you.

A tired groan crawls from your throat as you try to place yourself for a moment. The morning sun is just beginning to shine too brightly for your liking, and you squish your face deeper into the pillow.

You’re still tipsy with sleep, lying flat on your stomach, but there’s something dense and hot resting over your back.

You prop yourself up on your forearms, giving yourself a minute to wake up. You twist your hips around to sit yourself up, feeling the thing on your back slide down to your waist.

The blanket pools around your hips, and you feel a hand reflexively squeeze over the meat of your hip in disapproval of your moving. Something in you clenches at the sensation of something invading the area with ease. A spot reserved for intimacy.

Your head quirks to your right, seeing Logan on his stomach with his right arm thrown over your midsection.

You blink in surprise, staring at his sleeping body. His hair is sticking up every which way, his head half-off the pillow, his side of the blanket not even covering the curve of his ass anymore. It’s endearing to see the Wolverine in such a normal, human state.

But if someone were to walk in, it would look like you two spent the whole night fucking. A lot. That wakes you up a little more.

You peek over at the nightstand behind him and see the time blinking on his watch. It’s already 8 a.m.

You rest a hand over his shoulder to gently guide his arm off of you, but you stop yourself. Instead, you lightly trace your fingers down his shoulders and upper back a couple times, occasionally scratching softly over the ridges of muscle.

A shiver quickly rolls through his upper body, but your touch doesn’t fully wake him. He knows it’s just you.

It’s the least you can do for him as a thanks for recovering your broken body from the floor of your room and bringing you here when he didn’t necessarily have to.

It almost feels like instinct to offer comforting gestures to him. There’s something inside you that just pulls to him. You want to be the one that can give him comfort and help him put himself back together.

You want to be the only one.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

There’s a shadow that’s been following you around the mansion.

As soon as you stepped out of Logan’s room that morning a few days ago, it started.

This shadow likes to be nosy about what you’re doing. This shadow likes to be in your space. This shadow wants to be in your space. And he is.

No one has seen Logan out around the mansion this much, including you, and that’s how you noticed he’s basically been attached to your hip ever since he decided your back was a comfortable armrest.

He’s always just there, like a stray cat begging for food or affection. There to entertain you, banter with you, indulge you, in any way he can, including now as you trail back inside the mansion well behind Storm from an evening walkabout in the garden.

“No smoking in the courtyard,” you sing as you pass him carelessly, not even offering a glance to him in interest.

You like playing this game. Whatever it is. Constantly poking and prodding at each other to see what you can do to get the other to break in some way, no matter how slight.

Your heart flutters and flips every time; maybe from the thrill of it all, maybe from the arousal you get from the tension. You hope he feels everything, too.

He turns his head to watch you cross into the entryway. “Blow me,” he throws back playfully through a thick puff of smoke, leaning against the brick wall with a cigar pinched between two fingers.

You suppress a chuckle, keeping your unwavering pace. “Yeah, you wish!” You yell over your shoulder. You know he hears you. He wouldn’t let himself miss it.

Logan smirks and shakes his head in amusement, always impressed with your quick rebuttals that occasionally tent his jeans. He takes one last drag out of spite before following your footsteps inside.

You have become, by definition, friends…in a way. Even if you sorely cross the line into other territory more often than not. Sexual innuendos and friendly flirting can only go on for so long before the underlying intentions and meaning reflects real desires.

It’s evolved into more than just borrowing his bed a couple times or helping each other out. It’s surpassed the fear of whatever habit you were afraid of forming from doing so. It’s become a dependency to get that adrenaline high from simply riling each other up.

You have an assumption that if you were to end up in Logan’s bed again, somehow, there will be a point of no return that you’ll be faced with. There aren’t many more excuses that can be used for explaining to yourselves why you’re together in bed before you have to recognize the truth.

That platonic line is being stretched too thin, and you’re not sure how much farther it can go.

━━━━ ● ━━━━

“How’ve you been sleeping?”

“Fine. You?”

“Could be better.” Logan hides his smirk, but you can hear it in his voice.

You narrow your eyes skeptically as he fishes around in the fruit bowl sitting in the middle of the kitchen island.

“How so?” You ask. Your legs swing leisurely as you sit upon the chilled countertop on his left, idly waiting for Storm to show up and go with you to training.

A smug, tight-lipped grin flashes across his face, a green apple rolling around in his palms before he puts it back. “You could be there,” he provokes, his eyes bright.

It’s your turn to raise a brow at him, but you can’t stop your smile. “Oh?”

He turns to you, tenderly grabbing the tops of your thighs and parting them slightly to stand between your legs.

This isn’t the first time he’s done this, and he knows it rouses you in all the right ways. But, neither of you will do anything about it. Not even a brief kiss.

“Come on,” he goads, planting his hands down next to your hips, bringing himself in closer as he bears his weight on his arms. “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” He sways his head side to side to emphasize his point.

Fuck. That’s good.

That may be exactly what you did for him, but it’s now a figure of speech for something else entirely. It’s almost impossible to argue against either way, as if you want to. This is what you’ve been patiently waiting for.

You put your hands over his as you lean back a little to put some distance between you. “How sweet,” you hum.

His eyes flick from yours to your lips one too many times before you continue. “You start to miss me?” You tease as you lean forward again, echoing what he said to you the night your window got smashed in.

“Smart-ass,” he mutters as you laugh quietly. The tips of your noses barely graze each other as he steps in closer again. You’re almost at the same height like this.

“Save me the left side,” you advise, bringing your hands to his shoulders as you fondle his white t-shirt between your fingers. You’re so close, and he’s already so warm against you just like this.

“Always do.”

━━━━

You want to rip your heart out of your chest from how hard it’s pounding against your ribs. It’s almost throwing you forward with each heavy beat.

Three resounding knocks fill the hallway as you shuffle on your feet, waiting for Logan to open the door.

It feels like you’re doing something bad. Something parents would warn their kids against. Something greatly envied.

Everything inside you feels on fire. Your thoughts, desires, anxiety, all jumbling together into one distorted state of mind and body.

“Ah, welcome back.” His sarcastic tone makes your face go hot. A satisfied smirk crosses his lips as he runs a hand through his shaggy, unstyled hair.

You shake your head, pursing your lips. “Knock it off.” You gently shove at his bare chest. Misbehaviour already. But are you really surprised?

Logan grabs your wrist, delicately guiding you into his room. “You enjoy it,” he says lowly, quickly shutting the door as soon as you’re in.

“Maybe,” you hum in response, pulling away from his grasp and seeking out your side of the bed. Logan follows closely behind, giving your ass a light smack in encouragement before he cuts away to his side while you jolt in shock, a stunned look on your face as you whip your head around to him across the bed.

“Oh, really?” You scoff. He’s biting back a smile, not moving until he knows what you’ll do next. He’s never gone that far before.

“I’m sorry, that was rude—how can I make it up to you?” He almost chokes on a laugh, pulling his dog tag back and forth along the chain while he considers you.

This Logan is very different from the one you were met with the first night he let you in his space. This one is attentive and exuberant, yet he hasn’t given you much up until this point right now. You’ve gotten way too comfortable with him without even doing anything to you.

In this moment, he isn’t the brooding, animalistic Wolverine many see him as. He’s just Logan—for you.

You watch him carefully, easing yourself onto the bed. “Get in the fucking bed,” you slap his side of the mattress with a thump of your palm. “And do what you promised earlier,” you stare pointedly at him.

He owes you that “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” favour he decided to pull out to get you here.

“Mm, alright, alright,” he surrenders, a look of amusement still on his face as he kneels onto the bed. “I thought of a pretty good idea for it,” he says softly, crawling to sit next to you on top of the blanket as the bed-frame creaks with the added weight.

Your shoulders almost brush against each other. You shift, turning your body fully toward him. “Oh? Wh—woah!”

You squeal when his strong hands latch onto your sides, lifting you just enough to pull you over his legs to plant you on his lap. He leans back against the headboard, pulling on your thighs so you straddle him tightly.

He looks devilish when you catch his gaze again, and you know what’s coming. What’s been coming. Your hands find their places on his shoulders, warm and taut, as his hands hold your hips.

The bond between you will culminate tonight. It will be wrapped in a blanket and trapped between two alike souls that lie heart-to-heart in the dead of night. It will be perpetual.

The heat of him between your legs makes you restless. It’s just you, him, and the darkness in the quiet room you’ve become too familiar with.

“Logan…” you trail off bashfully when you feel something firm through his sweats poke against your cunt. It clearly doesn’t take much to excite him.

“Hm?” He takes you in for a split second, hands running from your hips up to your chest leisurely with a sharp inhale, not yet completely bothered by the fact that you have a shirt on.

You suck in a shaky breath when your hips accidentally shift over his bulge from his hands pushing and pulling over you.

“What’s the idea?” Your voice wavers.

You know what it is. He knows that. You just want to hear him say it and fill the silence.

“Something I’ve wanted for a while,” he murmurs, eyes hyper-focused on you.

Your fingers dance their way to the sides of his neck, brushing along the supple skin while you feel muscles and tendons flex with every slight movement. You subtly press the pad of your index finger against the pulse point right under his jaw, just to ground yourself and truly feel that Logan is there in front of you.

His pulse is steady but hard, much like yours, and the prickle of energy festering against the finger almost makes it go numb from not accepting it into your body.

“Show me, then.” You smile sweetly, leaning in closer while you tilt his head up with the hand under his jaw, your finger slipping from his pulse and caressing over the dense, coarse hair along his cheek.

Your noses bump while your lips part in anticipation. His eyes flutter as he falls into you and frantically claims your mouth in an unbreakable kiss.

The first kiss. Nothing could tear him from you in this moment.

Your hands cradle his cheeks, keeping him from pulling off too far. His hands scratch and paw at your back, trying to find a way to somehow get you closer against him.

It’s all a little messy, your lips mostly just mashing together without any rhyme or reason, but neither of you care. You only care about how electrifying it feels to finally have Logan and feel how perfectly connected you are together after all these nights. You go together like a key and its lock.

“Logan,” you pant when his mouth releases yours for a fraction of a breath. The seconds between kisses dwindle the more you take from each other.

Your thighs tense as he pulls half an inch away just to reconnect more crazed as his lips lock over your bottom one aimlessly. Something deep inside you trembles and aches.

He grunts, accidentally sucking the tip of your tongue briefly before slotting his lips back over yours in an apology. “Hold on,” he mumbles in a rush against your parted lips. He knows what you’re asking—or trying to ask. He snakes an arm up along your spine and wraps the other around your waist.

Then the world is tilting.

He drops you on your back on the bed from his lap, hovering over you as he distracts you with harsh but pleasing kisses and wet bites along your neck, settling his hips heavily between your thighs. You squirm and feel how bolts of arousal are making your cunt pulse involuntarily.

Logan groans. “Fuck—I can smell it. I smell you.” He slowly grinds his hips into yours almost reflexively. He squeezes his eyes shut, and you tip your chin up to press a chaste kiss to his slick lips.

“Taste…if you want to,” you propose, lightly scratching up and down his shoulders and arms, only enough to leave faint red lines for a couple seconds.

Logan’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head before he gives it a small shake, a conflicted look overtaking his face. “Of course I fucking want to, but—fuck—next time. I promise.” He swallows whatever you were going to say with a deep kiss that has you nearly shaking when he sucks on your bottom lip.

“Let’s just take things easy,” he says roughly, bearing his weight on his left arm while he tries to get your sleep shorts and underwear off.

A promise of a next time makes your brain go fuzzy like static.

“I’ll hold you to it, then,” you resolve, lifting your hips as much as you can for him to lean back and pull away to wrestle your clothes the rest of the way down your legs, discarding them just as quickly.

“I hope you will,” he breathes through a small laugh as he shuffles on his knees. He doesn’t want to completely overwhelm you and scare you off, he just wants to enjoy you in a simple way that won’t entirely ruin you for tomorrow.

He doesn’t know what you can or cannot handle, but he’s going to find out.

The fresh air in the room brushes cooly against your wet cunt. It’s a nice contrast to how fiery your whole body feels, but Logan feels even warmer than you somehow. Maybe wolverine’s just run hot.

His sweats have ridden down his hips from his desperate grinding against you, and the dangerous cut of his v-line grows more and more narrow as the waistband teases the reveal of what’s underneath.

You watch him—palming his dick once as your knees sway side-to-side in waiting. His thumbs hook under the stretchy fabric, working what remains of his clothes down his sturdy thighs.

“It’s rude to stare.” He pops a brow, a smug, arrogant grin quirking his lips.

You push yourself to sit up, considerably shorter than him in this position as he stands on his knees, and walk two fingers up his toned stomach to his chest, avoiding the hard cock between you.

He looks at you with curiosity until your hand grabs his dog tag in a fist, pulling it towards you. “Then stop showing me your dick,” you say as he leans in to your pulling a little to not have the chain break away.

You knew the night Logan dropped his pants in front of you and let you eye-up his bulge would come back to haunt you. But it’s alluring. Big. Curves a little to the left, barely noticeable. A respectable amount of hair decorates the space between his bellybutton and the base of his cock.

He gives in to the tension on the chain, falling back to the mattress with you and trapping you between his arms as his cock rests heavy on your clit.

“How about I find somewhere to put it?” His smile pushes a whole new wave of arousal from you.

“It would be a damn shame if you didn’t,” you say against his mouth, giving your hips a roll just to tease him before hugging his waist tightly with your knees.

“Good.” He gives you a strong kiss with a small grunt, running his hands over your sides under your shirt. The movement pushes it up, up, up, until you have no choice but to stretch your arms out above you and let him slide it off between more thoughtless kisses, leaving you entirely bare.

He lets you breathe for a moment, dipping his head to bite and suck marks along your collarbones messily. You squeeze around his hips harder, trying to get him to give you something other than his scratchy cheeks rubbing against your skin and the chilled steel of the dog tag dragging over your chest.

The tip of his cock falls and catches over your clit when he moves lower, licking and sucking over your chest like a starved animal finding food for the first time in a week. You gasp from the mixed sensations.

“C’mon, kitty cat, you can do all this while inside m-me,” you say breathily, fingers digging into his shoulders to stop yourself from trembling too much.

Logan bites over a nipple before pulling himself back up to look at you. “Is that a promise?” He says lowly, that stupid smirk gracing his face again.

“Try it and find out,” you demand, enjoying the sting of the deeper bites blooming on your torso.

He purses his lips, shifting his weight back onto his knees to grab ahold of his cock to angle and guide it in.

“Hm, guess no lube is needed,” he muses when he gets a look at your cunt, sparing you a glance through his lashes.

You roll your eyes shut when your whole body lights up red-hot. “Jesus fucking Christ, Logan,” you slap a hand over your eyes as you grimace. You don’t want to be that aware of your naked self right now.

He suppresses whatever expression was about to cross his face when his cock notches itself between your soaked folds, teasing your hole with the blunt tip. His brows pinch together and you forget the embarrassment from his crude remark.

But he leaves his cock like that, on the precipice of sliding the rest of the way in with a snap of his hips. Instead, he carefully uncurls his upper body to crawl his way back up to you while holding his hips deathly still.

“Alright, stay with me,” he whispers against your neck when you moan, pressing a tender kiss to your rabid pulse in reassurance.

“O-okay,” you sigh, running a hand through his hair and tugging at the roots while the other squeezes around his arm as best as it can. You’re not even really sure what he’s saying.

He kisses up your cheek and over to your lips again. You try to keep up with his quick mouth, licking and sucking whatever part you can get ahold of, but you’ve become lost in the feeling of him all over you.

He’s in your mouth, on your chest, against your stomach, nudging your cunt. Everywhere.

He slips his tongue over yours, securing your lips together at the same time he pushes his cock in halfway. Now you understand what he was saying.

The lightheadedness from being filled, even just a bit, almost makes you lose yourself. The stretch makes your stomach drop, your legs shake, and your mouth fall open with a whine.

“A-ah—fuck. Fuck, Logan,” you whimper, fisting his hair with both hands to stop yourself from falling apart.

He groans, either at the grip you have on his hair or how good your cunt feels already, and runs a hand up your left thigh in comfort as you squeeze around his hips tighter to draw him in.

“Just a bit more,” he soothes, trying to resist the urge to slide into you in one fell swoop. It would be so easy to just let his hips fall into yours and fill your cunt.

Another heated kiss, another few inches. He works his cock into you the rest of the way with ease. You guess the lube thing wasn’t really a joke. His hungry, needy kisses may have also helped with that.

You choke on your gasps, not wanting to get too loud, and Logan does the same. He tries to muffle both of your moans with his mouth, attempting to form complete kisses, but it just turns into you panting against each other as he finally bottoms out, hitting his end.

Your legs relax around his waist as he deftly rocks his hips in small thrusts to get you familiar with his size, his small grunts filling the air each time you swallow him whole.

You let out a deep breath, dropping your hands back to his tense shoulders. He lines your jaw with soft kisses, fisting the blanket in his hands beside your head.

“Fuck. Already feels too good,” he moans, pressing into you harder and unintentionally rubbing himself over your tender clit.

You smile, squirming while he works down your neck again. “Best of luck,” you huff, amused at the fact that he might not last as long as he wants to.

He brings his face back to yours, a completely blissful expression controlling his features, but there’s still some mischief in his hazel eyes. “Oh? Yeah?”

You hold each other’s gaze, both equally dazed and overwhelmed, and he draws his hips back and pushes into your wet cunt with a complete, strong thrust. The sound of his pelvis hitting against the backs of your thighs makes him laugh in pleasure and satisfaction when you instantly roll your eyes and head back.

Your cunt quivers, gripping him tight, and then it’s Logan’s turn to lose composure. He drops his head to your chest, managing a few deep breaths as he slowly pulls out halfway just to push right back into you, over and over.

It’s a pace that isn’t quite pure, mindless fucking, but it’s also not somewhere near earnest love-making. It’s something that feels specifically curated for you. Something that feels measured and sincere.

The strength of his thighs hitting against yours pushes you up the mattress a few inches, and you don’t know whether to gasp or moan. He reaches somewhere deep inside you, and you know he can feel that, too.

A helpless groan slips through Logan’s lips. “Where have you fucking been, huh?” He muses through shaky breaths, the determined plunge of his cock hitting something that makes your muscles tense throughout your body.

Your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, keeping him close. “Two doors down,” you giggle, understanding that’s not quite what he was asking.

“Fucking smart-ass,” he grumbles, silencing any further rebuttals with a wet kiss. You don’t think you could manage much more of a conversation even if you wanted to.

The silence is quickly filled with obscene sounds that only seem to leave you wetter and Logan throbbing. You can hear your bodies connecting through your gasping for air and his choked moans, and you can feel the mess you’re making all over him. It’s smeared along the inside of your thighs from how deep he’s been hitting. The squelching only seems to make him fuck into you harder.

Something inside you starts to grow tight and wind up in your core, making you repeatedly clench around him while his cock strokes all the right spots inside you as he makes sure he’s fucking himself in to the base. He doesn’t deprive you of anything.

He drops his head to your neck, wedging his face in to latch onto the spot right where your neck starts to slope into your shoulder. The dense muscle there gives him something to basically chew on, sinking his teeth in as deep as he can without drawing blood.

“H-hah, Logan,” you whine, tilting your head into the side of his and squirming from the pleasant sting.

You feel his arm move beside you, then you hear the sound of tearing fabric as he gives a particularly brutal snap of his hips, followed by a deep groan against your skin.

You can barely form any thoughts, but you can guess what just happened. If he pulled his hand back, three long, slim holes would probably be where his knuckles are right now.

“Fu-uck, Logan, you just got t-this mattress,” you laugh a little, your words choppy from how hard he’s driving into you now.

He draws back from your neck, seeing your half-lidded eyes trying to focus on him. “Can’t always control it,” he reasons, giving you two short, fleeting kisses as you hear his claws retract from the innocent mattress.

You see the double-edged sword. You can guess that that’s the same explanation he would probably use for the nightmares. It can go either way, and now you’ve seen both sides.

“It’s okay,” you say in a hushed tone. You cradle his face, and he rests his forehead against yours. “Keep going…keep going,” you coax, face scrunching from your nearing orgasm.

You can feel it in your toes, your stomach, your shoulders—you’re tightening up everywhere, and he can undoubtedly feel it in your cunt as you pulse around him. It grips him just right for a couple seconds before relaxing completely and leaving him to chase for more.

“Keep squeezing me like that and you’ll get whatever you want,” he offers, fighting to maintain his steady pace for both your sakes.

You almost whine, knowing whatever your body does is beyond your control at this point.

“Just—inside.” You can’t even string together a full sentence anymore, but the urgency and stress on the last word makes Logan’s ears perk up.

He presses a soft kiss to your clammy forehead in acknowledgment, the muscles in his arms straining and flexing as he grabs ahold of his own orgasm after a particularly inviting flutter of your walls.

You’re both walking the line, teetering on the edge of utter euphoria, and you know nothing will be the same after. You don’t want it to be. You hope it isn’t.

He reaches an arm back, sliding his hand up your thigh again and slotting it behind the bend in your knee. He pushes forward—only slightly—bringing your leg closer to your stomach to stretch you open for him.

His cock brushes over something new. Something that makes you bite your tongue. The angle lets him fit perfectly against you, not hindered by the flesh of your thigh stopping his hips.

You want to cry from how good it all feels. You want to be suspended in this feeling forever. You want Logan to—

“Focus, baby. Focus on me,” he coos, bringing you back to reality. He holds the side of your head with his other hand affectionately. “Come on…come on, I know you’re almost there,” he encourages with a quick kiss that goes straight to your stomach.

The burn in your thigh from the stretch can’t overpower the sparks of your orgasm, and Logan just fanned the flames with a few little words.

You come with a broken sob, convulsing around his cock while he fucks you through it, submitting to his own orgasm only seconds after with deep, shaky breaths as he empties himself inside your cunt.

He doesn’t pull out or pull away. He relaxes on top of you, sweaty and sticky with cum, and he places the barest whisper of a kiss on your chin, your parted lips, your nose, and then your forehead.

Your ears ring from your orgasm, eyes still slightly out of focus. Your body trembles from your muscles finally releasing the tension they’ve been caught up in.

You desperately suck in air, trying to calm your pounding heart, and you just lie there and let Logan walk your body through a cool-down. Soft kisses. Soft touches. Soft looks. Between sweat, cum, and whatever else.

He rocks a little on his knees, weak from his release, and carefully pulls out of you with a huff as he caresses your stomach and thighs appreciatively to wind you down. You get a good look at him. Not a scratch. His hair tells a story, though—one where he’s completely possessed by bliss.

You probably look like you survived an animal attack.

“Are we even?” Logan says through a kiss against your stomach.

A mindless laugh crawls from your throat, caught up in the feeling of his hands rubbing circles over your hips. “I think I still owe you,” you argue, resting your hands over his as they travel smoothly up your side.

You’ll find a way to make everything up to him. Including the sex. The scale is now tipping to his side too much. All the nights spent in his bed, what he’s done for you, what you’ve done for each other, may just be immeasurable, but that won’t stop you from finding a way to get him back for it all.

“We’ll figure it out,” he mumbles, snaking back up your body and pressing himself against you. Face-to-face. Chest-to-chest.

You mindfully run your hands over the sides of his head, trying to tame his hair and style it back to how it was earlier in the night. It doesn’t work. He enjoys it anyway.

“Do I have the pleasure of staying here tonight?” You ask rhetorically, enjoying the warmth of him on top of you against the brisk air creeping in from the cracked window.

Logan blinks. “You can stay every night.”

A loving smile springs over your face. This may be the beginning of the end to your troubles and worries.

You—maybe foolishly—trust him. You trust that he won’t accidentally bury his claws in your side during the night, but you’ve had impressive luck with that up until this point. The only thing you can do now is continue to push that luck.

Healing isn’t linear, and you can’t expect someone to fix you, but everyone finds their thing at some point.

You slither your hand down to his neck, index finger grazing over his pulse again. You feel the energy biting against you.

Your lips graze over his, tempting him to give you a slow, deep kiss. “Can I have the left side?” Rhetorical, again.

Logan chuckles against your mouth. “Always.”

#did my best to appease readers from the criticism i’ve seen about logan fics so. lol #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #xmen x reader #xmen x you #xmen smut #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x you #marvel smut #the wolverine x reader #x men x reader #logan howlett fluff #wolverine fanfiction

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kalims · 2 months ago

Text

⭒ㅤwhose (not) random kid

premise. crash landing from the future is apparently your kid, not that you know that anyway... in the form of a mixture between you, and your... supposed counterpart, clues are bound to pile up as to whose child this is.

parts. rosehearts, kingscholar, ashengrotto, al asim, schoenheit, shroud, draconia

cont. gender neutral reader, use of 'mada' which is just 'mama' and 'dada' cut in half for our resident shrimp (aka yuu) staggering 6.1k words woah

note. hello, hello! for a while I don't think I can work on azul's part </3 it's gonna be a very busy week for me for the following two weeks (i can say i am already in hell week) for finals so it might be a while before I can pick his part up hehe. in the meanwhile... here's leona ;) if I can commit to a date for azul, you can check out the posting schedule at my pinned since I will be updated it once i do!

as usual, just comment if you also want to be added in the taglist ^^ if those already on want to be removed you can also drop a comment to inform me!

leona

i should take a bite–was a brief thought that swam through your mind just as you turned a corner to another seemingly endless hallway. the floating lanterns, and candles alike light up in a short flash of dim green when you passed, extinguishing completely when you found another hallway.

in your hands was none other than a doom sandwich from the cafeteria, plucked then fought after its other nineteen siblings in the tray. if you had a word it would probably be chaos, you’d think there was a pyramid of golden bars in the cafeteria from the crowd of students outside before the bell.

there was indeed not.

“shehehe! take this, our protege!” were the humble words of a ghost occupant of the main campus, who had apparently come to view you as an underling of theirs. so if slipping the wrapped delicacy into your hands discreetly with a wink was their idea of a ‘good job’ then who were you, honestly to decline?

out of courtesy you wondered whether or not to inform your friends alongside the large crowd in the front of the room but decided against it because you were in the right mind to not dive first into that… mob and lose your beloved gift immediately.

in short, the students of this unfortunate institution were not above using dirty tactics for a single, stupid sandwich that happens to induce a recollection of memories when eaten (alright, you do see the appeal).

you hid it within the inner pockets of your blazer, lacking the nausea you had through the first few times of travelling through the mirrors as you stepped through and found yourself in the warm, humid air of savanaclaw. thankfully, as with all condiments from the cafeteria, the food would always remain warm.

alright. you did feel a bit dizzy but as were such with certain out of the world aliens like yourself.

“we’re missing a disk, yuu-yuu!”

you turned your head at the mention of your name, spotting a few savanaclaw students either lying still with varying pants or grabbing a drink at their own magishift field. a few disks were strewn around the dusty ground but you steeled your gaze at the source of your called name.

politely, you waved. this time, you’re not sure why cater’s nickname for you had extended from the upperclassmen of heartslabyul (well, the first years regard you normally anyway.) then to savanaclaw residents. for a dorm with such virile individuals, they’re still teenagers who like to pick on you, albeit less disdainful and more teasing after you’d helped the dorm out.

before, they were just demons to you!

you nudge your chin towards the many lying around. “there’s a lot of disks around, upperclassmen.” you pointed out, the cheetah eared second year doesn’t even spare them a glance like catching your attention were more of his concerns than a not-but lack of disks. “if you’re asking me to carry one to you, they’re really heavy. i’m sure your magic can carry it well anyway.”

buttering egos must be an acquired skill around here.

cheetah only flashes you a toothy grin, two fangs poking out from under his lips. “nah.” he replied with a shake of his head, patting down the towel slung around his shoulders to the perspiring skin of his neck. “want to be our disk? last time got everyone motivated to be the ones to throw you around.”

“no, thank you!” you bowed politely, turning around at record speed.

he snorted.

“bye, yuu-yuu.”

in hindsight no one would ever be sane enough to be a disk after watching a magical shift game considering it might as well just be a blur of color with all of the spells trailing after it. unfortunately, you were more so dragged into the role and reluctantly accepted your fate.

it was not a fun experience! you shivered, keeping your head straight to the entrance of the dorm as you resumed walking and ignored the disappointed hollers behind you. if you can’t see them, they don’t exist.

a breeze brushes through your legs.

the breeze trips you from your stride.

dazed with confusion, you remained stomach against the ground for a moment. what was that? you wondered after your brief startle, moving to push yourself up from the ground. a frown creases the space between your brows when you regained your stand and spotted the brown dust littering your otherwise, clean uniform.

you sighed when you found that it did not only cover your forearms, but also the front of your entire uniform. you might as well be rolling around on the ground to justify the mess on your clothes.

this place really hates you.

“sorry…”

jumping ten feet from the air (you wish. you’re exaggerating for good measure.) you whipped your head around, searching from the pitched, misty voice that seemed to chime pretty close to your ear.

… must have been the wind.

the wind knocks you to the ground again when you moved forward despite your initial dumbfoundedness.

when you raise your face that once again planted to the ground, you are not greeted by the air you expected but rather than a pair of green eyes that was not familiar in the slightest when you pair their shade of hair alongside the irises.

“i’m sleepy. can we take a nap?”

you gaped, horrified at the scare. “WHAT IN THE WO–”

‎⎯⎯ . . . ‎

grim on the other hand feels like he’s in heaven.

setting aside cans of tuna’s under your bed felt like a mastermind plan he’s been devising for weeks, there was no way you’d discover the pile below! he chuckled to himself. at last, with you away for the night (he assumes you are, since you’re goin’ over to meet that overgrown cat!). grim is at least thankful for this one time that leona kidnaps you away from him.

with his feast laid out in front of him grim spares a loud cackle that shook him with so much please that warm puffs of smoke slipped through his canine teeth, the blue fire larger with his laughs.

now i can eat! finally! after weeks! he cried in his head.

grim was just about to leap in to tear through the metal can to ravish his meal but instead startled upwards at the sound of a door slamming against the wall he worried the entire building just might come down on him for a second.

dust flew down from the ceiling and floated on the top of the cans. grim’s flames roared brighter in response to his otherwise perfect evening.

myaaahh! it’s just one foot on it. he thinks to himself, dimming at the thought of facing your fury. you sounded angry considering you literally slammed the door despite knowing it would challenge the stability of this… dumpster! his anger doubles down into satisfaction considering he took it upon himself to indulge in this feast up in the attic.

where you, after spotting the state of dust during the first few days, remarked to never step a foot in there again with a sneeze.

grim sneezed, then sniffed. it isn’t his sense of smell that matters now anyway, but his sense of taste!

though that fleeting sniff has him sniffing again, having caught a whiff of some scent that’s not familiar in the slightest. spicy, earthy with no traces of your own unique smell that divides you from the other students grim refers to as ‘nobodies’.

but slightly familiar.

he just about jumps to the ceiling with how shocked he was from the sight of the door leading down from the attic quite literally flew from its hinges to the air, falling heavily down the corner of the space with a wave of sound, and dust that momentarily blinds grim who coughed at the overwhelming amount of particles he had inhaled in the wake,

“ah!” grim yelled in surprise, ears folding back. he shuffled to the other side of the room, body reared back defensively.

he does not know what’s worse, these acts of anger involving the furniture having you as the source or… the savanaclaw dorm head that had just climbed the steps to the attic with begrudging slowness.

leona wrinkles his nose at the smell, turning his head to the side with a displeased expression plastered on his face. at the very least, the monster is intelligent enough to read that he’s less than in a talking mood. “you,” he all but growled, ascending the steps fully.

“m..me!” grim huffed, trying to look intimidating by the puffing of his chest. “this is private property! my henchman owns this place!”

the lion waves him off. “don’t care. whatever they own is mine, whatever i own is theirs.”

another menacing step from the male has grim blanching and scurrying back. until he feels the dusty expanse of the wall brushing against the tip of his tail comfortably, he at the very least makes sure the flame doesn’t accidentally get the whole building catching on fire. if he didn’t you’d be far scarier than this leona right now.

well… except this leona is the one enticing fear in him right now, not the imagination of you.

what in the world did you do to this guy? he thought frantically. he would have thought leona was immensely content with the fact that you were visiting his dorm like he was every other time. did you fight? why was he even here? did you throw him under the bus?

right. grim might have eaten one of the chilled meat inside the savanaclaw fridge–only finding out it was leona’s right after he spat out the wet piece of paper with his name stuck onto it but…

“you know why i’m here?” leona scowled, not bothering to crouch down to the monster’s height. such an action was below him, that’s why he only peers down through his lashes at grim who confusedly shook his head.

he mocked, voice coming out stuck between a low rumble, and a growl. “your ‘henchman’ owes me now, makin’ me wait all that time and being a no show.”

as if to showcase his irritation, his tail flicked sharply. ears pulled back but twitching at every little sound like he expects to catch yuu in the action of hiding from him or something. grim begs to differ because he has no idea where you were.

it must have shown on his face but leona refused to be in the dark about your whereabouts. “so,” he squinted, flashing a canine tooth. threatening all the well, and of course less than happy. “if you tell me where that herbivore is, maybe i’ll spare you from the storm that’s coming to them.”

more like tell me now or you’re not gonna like what’s gonna happen next! grim cried in his mind.

leona tilted his head, eyes skimming from grim to the surrounding room. “or maybe i can just bring the storm here? this place’ll be nothing but a poor imitation of that scarabia with all the sand i’m gonna leave it in.”

“you can’t destroy ramshackle.” grim protested. “this is my–yuu's home!”

the male waved him off. “i’ll just rebuild it into somethin’ more suitable for them. easy.” briefly distracted after entertaining a thought, leona’s face smoothed down into blankness. “they can just stay with me.”

leona was in for the worst mood in the century when two whole hours after your designated meeting time at his dorm, like usual which you almost always upheld by being there in the first place, sometimes a little late but nonetheless present.

initially one hour was the most he was willing to wait. then leona thought to spare you another gracious hour before he eventually begrudgingly stood from his already comfortable position to the bed to look for you himself. there was no way he was going to pass up on quality sleep.

not that he would’ve tolerated waiting for five more minutes for others, much less an hour then two.

unfortunately. it was just you.

he flicks your forehead twice. “that’s for being two minutes late.”

you frowned at him.

he shook the memory off before it can fully be the pin in the inflated balloon he currently calls his emotions. he’d flick you more than one twenty times that’s for sure, until the only thing you’d remember was him, even though leona knows his finger would lose the force by the third flick and you’re simply just feeling him poking you.

“anyway,”

“yuu ain’t here. they went to meet you, didn’t they?!”

“that’s right.” his eyes narrowed.

“then it’s not my fault they didn’t show for your attitude!”

leona grinned and stepped a foot forward with a bit more force than necessary, creating a stomp that promptly startles grim. “what did you just say?” he taunted, daring. say it again.

he sidestepped the ball of blue fire that came from grim’s teeth. “i’m telling yuu.” he said off-handedly.

grim panicked, straightening and sitting in a manner that was almost docile. “no!”

the man scoffed at the silence that settles into the air. your little partner was useless when the only thing tying him to this college was you and the audacity to not ensure your safety boggled him so much leona was almost tempted to transfer you over to savanaclaw despite your countless denial.

better to be safe than sorry. he thought. he would rather you be safe than him be sorry.

one glance at grim and of course the yapping he’d been doing the entire time, leona concludes that this little thing wasn’t any better in the where in the seven is yuu department. the only thing he’s irked about is that he went all the way here–that you somehow made him go all the way here.

he pinches the bridge of his nose, turning on his heel and sluggishly descending the steps from the attic. he must be going mad.

grim does not bother to muster up any form of courage to ask where leona was going, he already knew.

he could only think about what was gonna happen to the poor soul called you.

on his way navigating through your sad excuse of a (temporary) home, leona can feel the presence of your many spirit friends staring. to some extent he understands why, he did almost bring the entire dorm down since his arrival and he hasn’t even used a drop of his magic yet.

they can at least be grateful he shut the door on his way out.

leona momentarily thought about simply using a transportation spell to get him to the mirror chamber, from ramshackle to the main campus… it was quite a far destination to go through back to back. maybe he should think about hitting up a mage who excels in mirror transportation.

whoever made the mirror chamber. for your convenience.

wait a minute. why should he be worried about your convenience when you just about stood him up?

leona decides against the spell. it was complicated, and his thoughts was not in the right place to focus on converting his body and mind at the same time. he reckons he might as well be sending himself to somewhere farther with his state of disarray.

all the way to the mirror chamber, his face was etched into a permanent scowl. leona only ever kept your notifications unmuted, so a buzz from his phone has him reaching and opening it immediately.

one new message from chek–

he shuts the phone as his perpetual scowl deepened.

if seeing leona actually roaming the halls and not dozing off somewhere was a surprise, his face was practically a loud sign warning to stay away. that’s exactly what the passing students did, spared a glance, double checked, then steered clear from his way without another attempt at gossip.

they knew he could hear whatever they were saying. not that he cared enough right now.

the strange feeling of getting transported from the mirror chamber back to savanaclaw shortly takes all thoughts from his mind before it returns as he registers the familiar feel of his dorm, soothing but not quite home. home would more so be a person to him than a fleeting thing like a place.

like…

“dorm-leader!”

“welcome back!”

“what were you up to, dorm leader?”

a chorus from entirely different people sound from the therianthropes likely practicing for a match that was ages away. such was the spirit of savanaclaw students that want to excel in one singular area like magishift when they put their mind to it. leona can atleast say he feels the same.

the long sigh he emitted was a quick sign he was annoyed, a sign that his dorm residents have learned to read over the years. they doubled down from their excitement at seeing him and settled a bit more pliantly.

most probable thing tied to his temper nowadays was probably you.

a lynxes’ ears twitch as he recalled seeing you earlier, talking to cheetah. so why was the dorm leader mad? “leona-senpai.” he started cautiously as the male walked past him, not sparing him a glance but definitely listening.

leona thought lynxes was just greeting him until the other continued. “you here to see yuu-yuu?”

he stopped in his steps, the slow swing of his tail betraying the nonchalance plastered across his face. from the way he turned his head over a shoulder a little was his own universal gesture of urging someone to continue.

despite a moment of excitement at the prospect of his dorm leader paying attention to him, lynxes relishes it quickly. “yuu was just on their way to the dorm.” he continued as cheetah perked up at the mention of the name. both of them do not think too deeply on the obvious uncoiling of the tenseness from leona.

cheetah nodded along. having resigned to resting by one of the bleachers seeing as he’d been playing for over half an hour. “yeah. the little human dropped by earlier with their scrawny self smelling good.”

at leona’s critical eye, cheetah back tracked. “like food. i’m sure it was for you, leona-senpai.” he huffed, sharing an incredulous look with lynxes. geez…

the only really scary thing about yuu was the fact that you’d managed to wrap their dorm leader around your fingers like it was nothing. you seemed like you weren’t even trying anyways! you were just… there, and it’s like leona’s the one keeping you close even though he was notorious for, well. doing nothing.

“where’s the herbivore?”

“they were on their way to the dorm.” lynxes replied.

cheetah sighed wistfully. “what a shame, really. was really looking forward to yuu-yuu playing magishift again.”

lynxes snorted. “doubt they can even hold up the weight of the disk alone.”

“i meant as our disk like before, doofus.” cheetah nudged him., lynxes scowled lighty at the name. both of them chorus a farewell to leona who had already started retreating after catching the answer to his question. if you were here, while he was over at your place… was that a waste of time then?

perhaps.

he can’t feel a bit annoyed. at the timing–then at the fact that he feels relieved.

leona only grunts in response, his own unique way of a thank you that eliminated the unnecessary need for words. good thing his dorm residents understands his non-verbal cues at least, more so you.

you had an uncanny ability to detect quite a lot about him since, well… the more time you spent together. you said he was grumpy when he doesn’t do anything–which is insane considering he doesn’t do anything at any given time (you just mean he’s grumpy all the time.) and when he asks, you only mimic the look of ‘his grump’.

a response to you. “i don’t look constipated.”

a response to him. “so you’re saying you look constipated?”

the man stepped into his dorm, a certain haste in his steps that does not drain his energy but makes him feel more alive with each assuming step closer to you as he directs himself into the wide area of savanaclaw to his own room.

he barely registers the murmurs of greeting that fly his way with each dorm mate that spots him roaming the halls. of all students in night raven college, it's his own that are most brave enough to still spare him a greeting even if he seemed not in the mood. of course it is, only his dorm doesn’t have cowards.

not that he’s not in the mood anyway. a few minutes ago, sure. but now? he’s begrudgingly unable to deny the anticipation that threatens to lift his lips.

unfortunately he passes by ruggie who immediately walks backwards with his pace to annoy him surely. “leona-san.” he greets with a grin, resting his hands behind his head and skillfully ignoring the incoming obstacles called people.

thanks to his reputation around, the greetings to leona are also mixed in with a ruggie-senpai, or a ruggie-san if it happened to be a first year.

leona gave ruggie the stink eye. “leave me alone.” he grunts out, impatient as he walked.

ruggie makes a show of letting his eyes drift down to his legs. wider steps. “you’re in a hurry.” he observes slyly. compared to other openly tactical students–ruggie was subtle to himself, never quite revealing any cards until the very last resort. one of the reasons leona kept him close. “didn’t know there was anything exciting in ‘vanaclaw.”

the hyena chuckled to himself, raising his brows at a passing sweaty student who was on the verge of a brawl with another.

“don’t care.” replied leona.

“been gone for a while.” ruggie threw back. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you mope around in your room for so long, and tail it out.”

by the time leona finally spared him an irritated glance, he was speaking again. “so, did ya find em’?” ruggie didn’t need to be told what form of craft had leona rising from his comfortable coffin and going venturing out. its you, always has to be you somehow. be it in savanaclaw or elsewhere.

“no.” he rolls his eyes, finally opening the door to his room about to turn back and shut the door in ruggie’s face–but that was when he expected to see you pliantly sat on his bed and waiting because you owed him that much.

leona stops. staring at the empty space of his bed. he looked around the room, no sign of you but a whole lot signs of ruggie which wasn’t what he was looking for at all.

so he doesn’t care who’s been snooping despite the shameless animal behind him if it didn’t have anything to do with you.

“you came back, empty-handed?” ruggie quirked a brow, dropping his hands from his hair and tugging at the signature scarf of his dorm around his neck with a glance around. “gee. it's hot in here.”

leona pinched the bridge of your nose. whatever semblance of a good mood he had moments ago was thrown out the window when he found–that you were indeed not here in his room where he expected you to be. where else? you weren’t too buddy-buddy with any other dorm mates besides jack, and jack was in his room when he passed it.

you weren’t there either.

cheetah, and lynxes… he sighed in his mind.

“look for that herbivore in each corner of this dorm.” he sniffed, shaking his head.

leona pauses.

he sniffs again.

a scent of yours invades his nostrils, calming his rising temper to a halt suddenly. he stops, and looks scrutinizingly around the room with key focus. you were in here, somewhere. leona took a step closer to the bed, following the warmer tinges of your smell.

he took a right. it faded slightly so he went back.

by the time he was hunting for you, ruggie curiously took a deep inhale and wrinkled his nose. “ack… now this place smells like yuu-yuu. to think i thought them smelling like you was bad.”

it was true, the scent was particularly stronger than it should be. had he not noticed? the closer he walked to the bed, the stronger the smell was. with each step it practically swirled around in his head to the point where he could just sleep deeply in comfort, tricked into thinking you were laying right next to him.

like you were next to him,

leona stops by the side of his bed, narrowing his eyes at the crinkle of his sheets.

he stared closely until it seemingly squirmed at his intense stare, shifted a bit to the side like there was someone on it and leona’s hand shot out above the area. surprised to feel a limb, ankle perhaps? fit loosely within the confines of his palm.

“gotcha.” he whispered in triumph, tugging at whatever he had grabbed. it felt like a body, a potion perhaps? it didn’t quite feel like you, leona would know how you feel because he felt you in his soul.

leona, and ruggie stared in startle when the air flickered like translucent mirrors that reflected the light, and warped into something entirely.

“a little kid!” ruggie shouted in alarm, scurrying to leona to take a closer look.

the kid in question was… weird. more specifically, they smelled strangely familiar which was strange in the first place. leona leaned in, to which the kid squirmed when he inhaled deeply from the steady pulse of their adrenaline from their neck.

“who are you?” he all but growled, ruggie grimaced at his tone of voice like he was judging the way leona dealt with kids. surprisingly, unlike the usual intimidated bundle they only look vastly annoyed, like leona was a bother.

safe to say the man picked up on that as well.

they turned their head stubbornly. “you’re ruining my nap time!” they exclaimed–it was official. he was a bother. green met green and leona faltered when a haze of confusing familiarity stared at him right in the eye.

he glances at the pair of ears, a ribbon wrapped just below the fluff of hair at the edge of their tail. they must have sensed it because they huffed at his face.

“jealous?” they said at his stupefied face. “mada gave it to me earlier when i found them.”

he doesn’t know who mada is but they have terrible taste.

“a lion therianthrope.” leona observed.

“obviously.” the kid replied.

the former’s face soured, the latter snickered.

“looks like a baby you, but more sassy.” ruggie quipped.

the room pauses. first of all, leona briefly remembers the scent he was following and quickly determined that while this kid was swarming with your smell, it still wasn’t the strongest in the room. second of all, why?

“oi,” he grunted, rearing back when they swiped at his face at the prolonged proximity. “keep your claws in. you better have a good reason why you’ve been keeping my herbivore from me.”

“mada is mine!” retorted the kid with a distasteful scrunch of their nose as they turned their head away from the man, closing their eyes as if it was giving them a disability to look at him any longer. who was that?

leona’s eye twitched and one glance at ruggie quieted the hyena from an ongoing cackle of glee immediately–though he didn’t seem too prone to stopping considering his alternative was looking away so leona doesn’t see his grin.

contrary to the proud stand of the child’s ears, leona’s own flattens in response and he has to remind himself that he’s above chucking random kids who happen to smell like you out the window. “i don’t know who your mada is but–”

“mada is mada.” they huffed.

“...”

leona was quite forced to drop the little ‘rascal’ or so he thought when they feigned a bite at his arm. they plopped down back onto his bed, body too little so they bounced off a little. then… they scurried from the edge, away from him all the way to the edge and grasped at air.

literally holding onto air, fingers clenched around something.

his eyes sharpened. “what else are you hidin’?” he queried at the kid who boredly stuck out a tongue but hid back when his scowl deepened. to some extent he figured it was you, a quiet dispel incantation in his mind sent a wave of magic and the air flickered again to reveal the suspect of his most eventful day.

yuu. you. whatever

you looked like you just got caught hiding beneath a bench in broad daylight, your eyes drifted to the child and hilariously enough, seemed as though you also wanted to hide behind them. “novu…” you murmured lowly, as if all three therianthropes in the room could not hear you clearly. “you said i have to keep quiet and he won’t find out!”

novu blinked repeatedly. their demeanor falling slightly with the curl of their ears, they seemed strangely docile compared to the half bothered demeanor that was in the face of leona. “papa always finds us when we hide.” they whispered back, pursing their lips. “he’s a cheater interrupting our nap!’

you nodded vehemently. “true, he is.”

ruggie coughed. “wait, wait… about leona being this kid’s… papa or a cheater?”

“...”

“both!” replied novu cheerfully.

this time you seemed to be in jetlag to process the information, staring at novu’s face before it shifted to leona. “huh,” you murmured. they kind of looked alike, from the eyes, to their seeming shared feline traits. “HUH?!”

you sat up immediately, hands shooting to the small shoulders of novu who perked up–instead of being offended by your sudden startle they seemed incredibly pleased and nuzzled into the warmth that seeped from your palms through their top.

“what do you mean papa?” you swallowed. suddenly feeling incredibly nervous, especially with the heavy aura leona is emanating behind you, you really don’t want to turn around and see what kind of expression he’s wearing on his face.

the urge to shake the kid who had technically kidnapped you from the forbidden thing called crashing leona time then happily insisting it was novu time now. just a few intentional widening of their eyes and you begrudgingly followed them along to leona’s room which was surprisingly devoid of the man himself.

just from the small bits of his, and ruggie’s conversation when they returned you easily concluded he came looking for you.

and… well, you don’t really want him to see you at the moment when you unintentionally-intentionally blew him off.

you meant. it’s fine, right…? you do spend a lot of your time with him, so just a few hours wouldn’t be too bad.

everything is not fine! you screeched in your head. any hopes for respite from these two were promptly thrown out the window when novu’s face soured when they glanced at leona.

“papa doesn’t share you with me, so i have to take you first.” novu said proudly. at this point the hands on their shoulders weren’t enough so they climbed on your legs and slumped against your front, distinctively making a sound of contentment as they relaxed.

befuddled, frazzled, more words relating to perplexed ran through your head as you confusedly wrapped your arms around the little figure and pet the top of their head. novu seemed especially pleased when your fingers neared the fur atop their ears and even rubbed their head against yours in what seemed to be affection.

still shocked to oblivion, as in my soul just left my body you turned your wide eyes to leona who, to your surprise, did not bear a face of grump but a more unsettling blankness that cleared any semblance to emotion really. he stared intently at your head, obviously ignoring the disappointed look ruggie is digging to the side of his.

the hyena–when he caught your gaze also spared you a shake of his head as if he was non-verbally insulting you with an insinuation of something you haven’t even done, or yet to anyway.

you had briefly caught snippets of their exchange during your small interaction with novu, leona growling out an out which left ruggie no chance to deny but concerned enough with the new addition being seen to close the door on his way out.

when leona finally spoke, he furrowed his brows at novu. a flicker of annoyance at the sight of the clear coddling of the little one against you and the fact that you welcomed it. “i don’t have any kids.” he huffed like it was obvious.

novu did not open an eye but spared him a reply. “i don’t know how you and mada made me but you’re my only papa, and they’re my only mada.” despite their previous acts against leona, they were oddly proud of proclaiming themselves as his child.

leona raised a brow. he reluctantly softens, or instinctively you’re not sure.“you’re not from around here, are you?” he quipped. the bed dips under the new weight as he settled down next to you, surprisingly restrained enough not to pluck the kid out of your grasp and take their place.

he leaned back against the pillows, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

“i’m where i’m supposed to be.” sniffed novu, a lower tilt to their voice trailing off that spoke volumes about their state of consciousness. “with you, and mada.”

novu nuzzled against you, shifting slightly like they wanted to wriggle out. you retracted your arms to your sides and they sighed deeply when they settled in the middle of the bed, eyes still closed and breathing evening out.

“don’t leave me for so long.” they yawned.

you blinked.

leona kept staring at the ceiling.

why was he so docile?! you were still trying to wrap your mind around it all!

“goodnight.” you muttered dumbly.

you turned your head to point a sharp gaze at leona–who sighs, feeling your stare and grumbled under his breath.

“night.” he rolled his eyes.

the room lapses in silence from a while, bathed in the dawning set of the sun. you considered stealing a blanket from leona’s drawer but decided against it, considering the dorm is still quite humid even at this time of day, if you were at diasomnia you’re sure you’d have frozen to death even with a pile of them on top of you.

you snuck a glance at the elusive novu, their energy burnt out as they fell to a sound sleep, occasionally their ears twitched when your body shifted the slightest bit, reaching out as if you keep you from going.

aw. you kept still.

“is this my future?” you sulked to yourself, sighing as the weight of your shock faded into the air and left you slumping against the bed.

“is it so bad?” leona commented after your remark faded a bit.

you crossed your arms, sneaking a glance at him. “they’re cute.” you referred to novu.

not an answer to his question. leona thought in irritation, you always did have a way with a head made up entirely out of air. then again, his might be as well if he’s taken such a deep liking to you that prevents him from letting go–that in the first place was demented of him, he was not clingy.

leona does not entertain the pictures that his mind conjures to rebuke his denial of fondness in physical form.

sleeping on you, teaching you chess, keeping you close? that was just him collecting pieces to discard.

sure.

“just sleep, you’ve been looking for me all day, right?”

leona closes his eyes. “i have.”

he’d just have to give you a reason to look forward to seeing a novu again.

‎⎯⎯ . . . ‎

by the time you woke up there was something draped around the bed.

you instinctively patted the space next to you, not feeling the strange feel of novu but the hard plane of leona’s cheek. he does not swat at your hand but spares you an annoyed scowl. you note that he’s… well, a lot closer than he should be even with the missing space of novu between your bodies.

oops. the only thing to pull leona out of a grumpy mood in the morning was a meal. you clearly did not have the current power to do so as you had… fed the doom sandwich to a pouty novu.

thankfully ruggie popped in, barely blinking at your sprawled figures on the bed but more surprised at the missing recent addition. “where’s your lovechild?”

jack’s voice rose from the hallway. “their what?!”

“get out.” leona sneered. “you’re ruinin’ my morning.”

it wasn’t already ruined?! all three of you cried in your minds.

trivia

their unique magic is “from where do you see me?” which you might already guess is being able to conceal themselves in thin air, alongside a thing, or person they have to be directly touching as they’re still young, and inexperienced to properly control their unique magic without a medium.

novu is written to be an equally cheeky 7 year old that happens to take naps very seriously, and not so energetic when deprived of sleep (i’m trying to write all of the children to be generally gender neutral lol but i do have a ‘implied [gender]’ next to their names in the draft lol! as you might guess, alice is feminine… but what about novu?

a second italicized word means that it was novu! for example: ‘must have been the wind’ is really just the wind, whereas: ‘the wind knocks you to the ground’ is the cheeky novu!

cheetah, and lynxes are not their actual names. just called them what they were, which is an actual cheetah, and lynxes therianthrope who both respectively belong in the family of big cats.

unlike alice who was on a clock during their time in the past, novu wished to sleep well and was sent back in time to find you so they can enjoy a lengthy sleep as the future you had not returned home alongside future leona due to a political exchange.

so once they finally fell asleep, they will eventually return.

yuu hid the sandwich and tailed it out of the cafeteria immediately, not wanting to stick around to know that one of the non-humans with crazy senses smells it on them and decides to target them!

ruggie usually doesn’t comment on the weather of savanaclaw but he does say “its hot in here.” because it felt warmer compared to the outside, which didn’t make sense. it was very much due to yuu, and novu in the same room.

magical shift disks are known to be heavy in weight alone, that’s why it's mainly used to direct imbued in magic. yuu did, actually get roped into a game by being a disk which was… an experience.

jack was supposed to be hear but i missed the bullets where i outlined him LOL

writingerror on archive of our own inspired partial parts of this work (as well as me writing once again honestly) which includes the interactions with students to yuu, as well as the.. yuu being a disk part which is a chapter in one of their works!

the reason why leona’s ‘morning’ is not ruined despite him already being bothered first thing is due to you!

🔖: @lostsomewhereinthegarden @staplertwst @rinis-reality @rhyzoma @iamprodigious @irzali-imagines @glitterandgoldfinds @luna-looniesblog @wokasiv @readrecieptoff @miyaswmire @dakissomewhere @yourfavouritecitizen @rei-vii @colombia-chan @ceramic-raven @leitor-sonolento @night-shadowblood-writes2 @ms-shroud @bju3c0re @usernamesarehardtomake @wonderlandcrown @los3rtown

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed !#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst fluff #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #x reader #gender neutral reader #im about to drop dead soon why is there so much stuff to pass (cries)#i cant die yet i have to do my duolingo streak #i almost forgot the taglist LMAK

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pomefioredove · 1 year ago

Note

FLIRTY PROMPTS FLIRTY PROMPTS!!!

May I ask for "I just want you to be happy! And perhaps a little bit naked." with Lilia, pretty please 🥺

I've been looking forward to this oneeee

summary: "I just want you to be happy! and perhaps a little bit naked" type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is probably yuu, not proofread, Malleus being Lilia's wingman instead of the other way around for once LOLLL a part of this event

"Come on, just one taste?"

Lilia pouts; he knows the power he wields with his cuteness, and he somehow finds a way to use it in every possible situation.

"I worked so hard!"

Your gaze drifts from the bowl of... something he's holding out to you to Silver and Sebek as they shake their heads behind him, trying to save you from your fate.

"...I just ate," you say. Silver sighs with relief.

Lilia huffs. "Again? What does the cafeteria food have that mine doesn't?" Silver opens his mouth, and Sebek shoots him a glare.

"Oh, well... More for me!"

You watch, shaking your head as the elder fae leaves the lounge, the warm bowl of brown sludge cupped between his hands.

Silver and Sebek follow, the latter grilling the former about respect.

"My... what do we have here?"

Malleus, for as tall and imposing as he is, appears in the lounge without a sound, filling the vacancy that the others had left behind.

"Lilia's cooking," you say. "He's been getting really into it lately."

Malleus blinks. And then he laughs. "Ah... aha. I thought I smelled something burning again. He really is quite smitten with you, isn't he?"

"Smitten?"

Now, that's a new one. You can't help but smile, deflecting the word in a single awkward laugh. "I don't think so,"

Malleus raises his brow, as if surprised by your denial. As if it should be obvious...

What a silly thought.

"Do you doubt my sincerity, child of man? I haven't seen Lilia so taken with anyone in... some time. He's rather adamant on impressing you with such things,"

He gestures to the bitter scent wafting from the kitchen.

You want to say that's not possible; Lilia is flirtatious by nature, but actually being interested in you...? Let alone going out of his way to woo you...?

You turn towards the arched doorway that Lilia had left from earlier. Malleus follows your gaze with a subtle smile.

"Well... I have a club meeting to attend. Good evening, child of man... unless you would like to join?"

"What?" you look back to him like a deer caught in headlights.

"Uh... no, not this time. Thank you, though."

He gives you another knowing smile and takes his leave without another word, departing and deserting you with your thoughts in the lounge.

You're not alone for long.

"Still here?"

A streak of black and pink drops down from the ceiling in front of you, changing the feel of the room to one of mirth and mischief.

Lilia smiles, studying your pensive expression carefully. "Fufufu... have you changed your mind? Want a taste of my soup after all?"

"No," you blurt out. He laughs at your nervousness.

"Oh, my... did I startle you? And here I was, starting to think that you'd grown used to my surprises..."

You roll your eyes at the tease in his voice and take a generous step back. His distaste for personal space is the last thing you need right now...

"That's not it. I was just... talking... to Malleus..."

Lilia narrows his eyes. The crimson is even more striking in the dark of the lounge... "Oh? About?"

"Nothing," you lie. It's pretty obvious. "...You."

"Little old me?" he asks, shuffling a little closer. He says it like a question, though he's not really looking for an answer.

...Almost like he already knows. Why do you suddenly feel so nervous?

"He was just... speculating..." you say. "...About you and I."

Vague... but not vague enough. Lilia seems to understand what you're implying immediately, another impish grin playing at his lips.

"Was he? And what did he say?"

You force a laugh; it's all you have left. "It's... it's funny, he thinks that you've been doing all these nice things to impress me because... because you like me,"

Lilia goes silent for a moment, cradling his chin in his palm as he watches you deflect the undeniable tension with another laugh.

And then, he starts giggling along with you.

"Fufufu... Oh, how innocent... mm, yes. Malleus is a smart boy, but he lacks social awareness. Otherwise, he would know I am not trying to woo you with cooking..."

You force another chuckle, though this one sounds weaker, scratchier. Of course, you should have known.

The chances that Lilia actually likes you... like-likes you... that he even thinks of you as attractive...

"I just want you to be happy..." Lilia goes on, his smile as merry as ever. "And... perhaps a little bit naked."

Pause.

He's always had a terrible enjoyment of pulling the rug out from under you, but this is almost insidious.

Lilia seems to enjoy your speechlessness, his grin only widening.

"Oh, my... you look flustered. I truly hope you didn't take my homemade meals as flirting, otherwise, you're in for quite a surprise.

...because I haven't even started yet,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

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ifwebefriends · 1 year ago

Text

My thoughts during “The Sign” [SPOILERS!!!!!]

ID in ALT

More thoughts under the cut

So I think most of us can agree that this is the best episode of Bluey so far. It was so emotional and satisfying in ways that are kinda new for Bluey. It answered so many questions while giving us a few new ones. I’ve been waiting for this episode for months and it did not disappoint in any way.

This is just a Chekov’s firing squad of an episode. As in a lot of stuff that was set up in earlier episodes all pay off in this episode. I kinda understand why people love soap operas now lol. I will say that this episode was a tad overwhelming for me in the best way possible. As in I had to pause and rewind every 30 seconds or so so I could emotionally process what was happening before moving forward (but that’s a me thing). There was just so much going on and I’m happy about that.

Now onto individual thoughts about specific things:

The callback to Baby Race (“you took your first steps in that house!”) really got to me because Baby Race was the first episode of Bluey that I watched and it immediately made me fall in love with it so it just got to me.

When Chilli said “Frisky and I came up here as teenagers to…um…think,” my mind started racing immediately with “what the FUCK happened at the Lookout?” “Who hurt Frisky and/or Chilli?” And I’m just so curious about what made Chilli say that line like that but we’ll probably never know what happened.

So yeah that scene at the end when the music was playing and Bandit ripped the sign out of the ground and Chilli tackled him to the ground ABSOLUTELY CHANGED my brain chemistry y’all. I can’t articulate my feelings any more than that.

I know some people were upset that Brandy ended up getting pregnant but I thought it was great for her! I’m happy for her! And I think that even though she got what she wanted in the end doesn’t negate the feelings she had about her infertility earlier. But I think we’re all wondering who the father is and I don’t know if the show really needs to answer that.

The whole message of “we’ll see” in terms of if something is good or bad is such a mature message that I never really thought of like that so I will be taking that philosophy forward in life. Congratulations Bluey, you managed to teach a 22-year-old childless person something new and insightful about life that I don’t think I’ve learned from another show.

I want to know more about what Bob was going through and feeling and why he went to India, but again, we’ll probably never know.

I just love how the wedding photos were beautiful but imperfect. Like of course we’re not perfect and nothing will ever be perfect but it’s beautiful and worth remembering anyway.

So many little jokes and moments were so funny in a mature way (I.e. “are we allowed to do that?” And Nana thinking there was about to be a baby announcement) were just so funny and memorable.

I think some people would say it’s a cop-out to end up not selling the house after building it up for 2 episodes but I don’t know, I think it works. I think Bluey and Bingo learned a valuable lesson and Bandit (and Chilli kinda) learned it’s not always about making their kids lives “perfect” in their eyes. Also I’m just personally glad they didn’t end up selling the house and I also kinda like that it wasn’t entirely their choice to keep it.

On a more serious note I think this episode has some interesting commentary on like gender roles and gender relations in straight relationships. In this episode Chilli and Frisky (both women) have to deal with their male significant others pressuring them to move with them far away from what they know and love. In the end they don’t end up moving and the men didn’t seem to have like malicious or selfish intent with it, they were just kinda basing their choices off their jobs instead of what’s best emotionally for their loved ones. But I think it’s interesting to have this conflict where gender is kinda brought up in a way (“because your husband is making you”). It kinda plays into the traditional idea of like men are the breadwinners and the family has to move with them regardless of what they actually want. And this episode kinda like deconstructs that and says “no, it’s not always about the job or money, it’s also sometimes about connections and emotional attachment.” And I’m not saying that you should never move or whatever, but really weigh your options. I just thought that it was interesting that this episode kinda touched on that.

So yeah that’s kinda the main thoughts I had on this episode if you made it this far thank you for reading my rambles and have a good one!

#Bluey #bluey the sign #meme #Bluey heeler #rad heeler #bandit heeler #chilli heeler #baby race #my ramblings #my rambles #frisky heeler #brandy cattle #spoilers #bluey the sign spoilers #bluey spoilers

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fligniuz · 3 months ago

Text

a performance deserving of standing ovations

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ you have some inquiries about your boyfriend’s habits.

word count: 2.6k • nsfw • read on ao3

tag list : @mangionebabymama , @mangobabygirl , @jenisaswift13 , @mangionesdaisy , @iinfinitelimits , @daydreamingwithluigi , @nephris , @mashkatzi

warnings : gender neutral reader; EXPLICIT; voyeurism; mutual masturbation; discussions of filmed sex and oral; probably poorly translated italian; starring luigi’s dislike of porn

notes : this is dedicated to @diors002 in spirit because i thought of her while writing this,, title from:

^ divider by cafekitsune

“So if you don’t watch porn, how do you get off?”

Luigi looks at you from over the lip of his laptop, eyes narrow. “What?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t jerk off, either,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Seriously. What do you do?”

What kind of question is this?

“I have a broad imagination,” he replies, still typing away. “I just use my brain.”

“Are you sure you don’t have any of those hentai sex simulator games on there?”

Please. As if he’d be caught dead with that trash. He’s almost insulted that you would insinuate such a thing, even if you’re joking.

His face remains neutral. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” You crawl up onto the couch to sit beside him. “I’ve never known a nerd to not love hentai.”

If he weren’t smart, he would tell you that he’s not a nerd. Instead, he says, “I pride myself on being unpredictable. And hentai is too…It’s over the top. The girls are always voiced by someone who sounds five years old. Huge turn off.”

“Then why do you not like porn?” you ask, propping your head up on your palm. “At least it’s grown humans.”

If he weren’t busy, he would probably give you a lecture—but that would technically be mansplaining, he thinks, so better to leave that alone. Instead…

“This is a whole conversation we could have,” Luigi says, “and I would love to have it with you, baby, really, but my mind is a bit occupied with something else right now. I have my reasons. I’ll tell you that.”

He’s got reasons for everything. Sometimes it pisses you off that he’s such a good thinker. Right now, though, it intrigues you; what does he like to imagine when he’s touching himself? Does he think about you? Doing what?

These are questions you could answer with one question of your own:

“Can I watch you?”

He glances over, furrowing his bushy eyebrows. “Watch me what?”

“Jerk off,” you say simply.

Then he blinks. Stops typing. Flushes ruddy red in his cheeks and his nose. “I’m—That’s—”

God, he’s adorable.

“You don’t have to decide now,” you tell him, gently planting your hand just above his knee and squeezing. “It’s just an idea.”

Your boyfriend stumbles over his words for a moment, makes some funny choked noises—as if he wants so desperately to find the means first, but just can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Would you like that?” he asks finally. “Like—Watching me?”

Well, you asked for a reason.

“Yeah,” you nod. “But if you’re uncomfortable with it, I understand.”

His big hands linger over the keyboard of his laptop, tracing the ridges beneath his palms. It takes some significant willpower to push the image of his fingers in your mouth out of your head.

“Think about it,” you say, patting his shoulder.

You don’t know if he does. Not for a while.

You’re in his room looking for your phone charger when you get to find out.

First you hear his keys turning in the door, his gigantic feet shuffling against the welcome mat: “Our House is a Very Very Very Fine House”. They step closer, trailing off every so often when he peeks into a room in search of you—but eventually you hear them approaching right behind you, a familiar pair of lips finding your neck.

Typically Luigi is quite blunt. Today he has no qualms about being indirect with you.

“What’s up, babe?” you ask when he wraps his arms around your torso, face buried in the warm crease of your shoulder.

And then you feel him.

Luigi is hard. You can feel his cock pressing against your backside, straining through his jeans, shockingly intimidating even after all this time of waking up next to his morning wood.

“Baby, is that you?”

“You said you wanted to watch me,” he interjects, his voice a rough and gravelly murmur in your ears. His breath is hot against your throat. “Do you still want to?”

Is he kidding?

“Fuck, yeah,” you nod, hands meeting his. “Are you gonna let me?”

He doesn’t answer you with words. Rather, he pulls away from you to settle down in his desk chair, just opposite the bed you’re now sitting on. You have to swallow your moan when he starts to unbuckle his belt—arousal rushes through your nervous system at the sound of metal clinking and pure Italian leather slipping through each loop of his pants.

You smile at the imprint of his greedy sex in his boxers. “What got you this worked up, Gi?”

His eyes relax, those long lashes fluttering. “I was thinking about you at work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’s palming his erection through navy blue cotton, leaning back against the headrest of his chair. “Can’t get anything fuckin’ done. You’re distracting, you know that?”

He says that like it’s your fault he can’t control himself.

“You drive me nuts,” Luigi continues, hand squeezing and stroking at himself. “I’d quit the fucking thing if it meant I could just keep you in bed all day.”

The sound of that is nice.

“What were you thinking about?” you ask.

He takes a moment, either to formulate a response or to relish in the feeling of his hand teasing his cock through the soft fabric.

“You remember our third date?” he asks, eyelids heavy.

Of course you remember. For your third date, on a mild day in early June, Luigi took you to Kauai so you could see the Nāpali coast. June was the best time to visit, he said—tourists come for the sunniest weather, so the intermittent months when summer is still settling in are the least crowded and most tolerable. The sun was setting by the time you had made it down near the shore, and the way those glowing rays hit your skin had him feeling things that scared him and exhilarated him all in one sweeping breath; he insisted on pulling out his phone to snap a few pictures of you prancing along the coastline, your hair blowing in the wind. Your eyes were wild with joy and you squealed in ecstasy when he ran over to scoop you up in his strong arms and spin you around. For your third date Luigi fucked you in his car, parked in a lonely dirt lot just a few miles out of Koke‘e State Park, with the windows rolled down so the salty air could stream through and cool your flushed, sweating, moving bodies, his hips pounding into you from underneath. You think it’s the day he really fell in love with you; you heard him groan the words into your ear, breath shaky and words choked, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in time with his pointed thrusts.

You nod. “In your car.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, the thumb of his left hand dancing along the waistband of his underwear. “Fuck, you were so pretty that day. Sun looks good on you.”

Yes, he had made that very clear to you. He told you probably fifty times on the drive back to his apartment, thirty of which were said just before he pulled over and took matters into his own hands.

“You think about that day a lot, babe?” you ask.

“I think about you a lot.”

“Tell me,” you say. “Show me that big cock and tell me what else you think about.”

He’s pulling his boxers down his thighs—they quickly join the pool of denim at his ankles. One hand just barely lifts his sweater up, revealing a hint of his chiseled abs. The big cock in question smacks against his abdomen, the fat head of it pink and oozing pre. Your mouth waters.

“Think about fucking your face,” Luigi mutters, words slurred and hazy with titillation. His slender fingers are stroking the head of his dick, smearing slick over himself. “When you bent over the console to suck me off…I wish—Wish we could’ve been in my bed, so I could’ve just used your gorgeous little mouth.”

You can’t change the past, but you can certainly imagine an alternate universe where that did happen. He can too. He’s using his thumb and two fingers to squeeze his weeping glans, coaxing more of his arousal onto his hand and spreading it down to the base of his dick.

“I enjoyed that,” you tell him.

“Fuck, I did too,” he says, nodding. “You’re lucky it was so late and nobody was around. You had your ass facing the window. Probably would’ve given anyone walking by a pretty fuckin’ sight.”

Luigi’s loose fist continues stroking his cockhead, curls pressed back against his chair. His throat is bared to you, Adam’s apple bobbing, and your teeth yearn to touch the sensitive, stubble-dusted skin there. Every so often his thumb grazes his tender slit and punches a delicious whine from him, a sound so precious you wish you could collect it in a conch, hold it up to your ear and listen until the Earth burns out.

“I think what’s in front of me is much prettier,” you purr, leaning back onto the bed casually.

“Should’ve seen yourself,” he says. “I’m so glad I got you on camera. My brain could never conjure up the perfection of you, baby.”

That’s right. The pictures he took of you at the Nāpali coast weren’t the only documentation of that night. There was more taken later, in his car, as he was driving his hips into yours with your hair fisted tight in his hand; this video was more explicit, more revealing, a landscape shot of you riding on top, him gripping your ass ravenously. A few times you had suggested watching this particular video together—perhaps past glimpses of your voyeuristic desires—but every attempt only ended in a recreation rather than a communicative, parallel experience.

His hand begins to move lower, spreading his pre down his shaft with long, languid strokes, cupping and squeezing his balls occasionally. If you listen closely enough you can hear the wet sounds of him touching his cock. His face is pink, blatant evidence of his arousal, if the sight of him playing with himself right in front of you wasn’t enough to prove it.

“You gettin’ hot, babe?” you ask him, tone sultry.

He nods frantically.

Smirking, you order, “take that sweater off.”

Luigi has always been a good listener. His dick bounces when he shifts to pull the offending article up and over his head, curls ruffled and stomach muscles twisting. With his torso revealed to you he settles back into the chair and moves his hand to his cock again, still focused on wetting his length sufficiently (which isn’t difficult, what with how much he’s leaking at the sound of you bossing him around.) His abs are flexed and his nipples are hard, begging for a tongue to tease.

“That’s a good boy,” you murmur.

He groans, loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

“Listen to me, baby,” you say, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Stroke that perfect dick and keep your eyes on me.”

Your boyfriend nods obediently, hand moving with intent over the entire length of his cock, balls and all. His lush lips are parted, breathing heavy and moaning when his slick palm passes over the underside—his pace is slow at first, working himself up to his climax with ease.

And when his beaming brown eyes meet yours you take off your own shirt, leaving it to pile with his on the floor.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” you instruct.

Luigi whines. “I want my mouth on your nipples.”

You moan at that. Your hands glide over your chest, groping at yourself and passing over the very nipples your boyfriend speaks of. With a tightened fist he squeezes his glans, sighing with delight as he watches you move under lidded eyes.

“Il tuo corpo è arte,” he mutters under his breath.

“Yeah?” you tease, as if you understand what he’s saying. As if your flesh isn’t burning with desire. “You thinkin’ about tasting me?”

As you speak your hands migrate to the waistband of your sweatpants, beginning to pull them down.

“Fuck yes,” he nods. “You know I always am.”

In the process of getting your bottoms off you wiggle your hips around playfully, grinning at the way Luigi licks his lips and pumps his cock with each inch of skin you unveil to him. Your thighs flex and your smile grows the longer you keep your lidded eyes glued to his flushed face, lip trapped between sharp fangs. You ache to feel the point of his teeth in your skin.

“Baby, touch yourself,” he pleads. “Per favore, I want to see.”

You tut. “Patience, sweet boy. Keep talking to me.”

“Fuuuck,” he moans, compressing his cockhead with two fingers. “I love how you taste, love all the noises you make, fuck, so fucking pretty…”

“Mhmm,” you hum, leaning back on the bed invitingly. You run your hands over your chest again and smile sweetly at him, crossing your legs, uncrossing them, crossing again. Egging him on.

The tendons in his wrist flex against his Fitbit deliciously. “I want to lay you down and just make you come until you can’t stand me. Così dannatamente stupendo. You are…Shit…Tu governi la mio mente.”

You have no idea what the fuck he’s saying or why the Italian is coming out so strong when he’s this worked up but goddamn, if you were recording this…Your brain certainly is, capturing every second of his fist rubbing his cock furiously and the slick sounds of it projecting throughout the room. His wide throat pulses when he throws his head back to whine, feet fidgeting as he works, and you bite your lip to suppress your own needful impulses.

When your hand sneaks between your legs he grunts like a rabid dog.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes,” Luigi nods, staring directly at you. “I’m gonna come, oh, fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

You nod with him, hand moving in sync, working yourself up quickly to see if you can meet him head-on. If he gets to watch you come while he’s climaxing you think he might explode. His veins throb as he speeds up his wrist and tenses his thighs, eyes glued on the pure arousal between your legs, spread open and on display just for him.

And then his face drops familiarly, eyelids stunned and lips parted, like he’s teetering on the edge, and you push him to the other side with a honeyed “I love you, baby,” and then he’s coming, splattering his hand and his sweat-soaked abdomen with himself. He keeps stroking the fat head of his cock for a few seconds longer and you love how he twitches and furrows his bushy brows, loudly finishing yourself at the sight of the mess he’s made for you.

“Wow, babe,” you chuckle. “You needed that, didn’t you?”

He flushes. “Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to watch, perv.”

Before he can reach for the tissues on his desk you hop up from the bed and crouch by his seat, grabbing his face. “You liked being watched. Didn’t you?”

“I—”

And before he can answer you, you reach down and scrape some of his orgasm onto your fingers, popping them into your mouth emphatically and giggling when his jaw goes slack.

“Well, did you?” you repeat with a wicked grin, licking some excess from between your index and middle finger.

His face tenses, then settles. “You’re insatiable.”

You shrug playfully.

Luigi points in your face. “And I better not hear about hentai simulators anymore. Help me clean up.”

il tuo corpo è arte = “your body is art”

per favore = “please”

così dannatamente stupendo = “so damn gorgeous”

tu governi la mio mente = “you rule my mind”

#luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione imagine #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione fanfiction #flig’s work

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spaceagebachelormann · 4 months ago

Note

i stay true to my word chat

hcs for pre-crash gf!lottie who’s obviously RICH RICH but her partner is less privileged

cause we KNOWWW lottie’s the type to spoil

☆ — lottie matthews with a poor partner

✧ masterlist — navigation

✧ carmillas thoughts — lottie they could never make me hate you. my delusional weird freaky (not) secretly wuh luh wuh queen. i wrote this with a fem reader in mind but it can be read as any gender tbh

✧ warnings — none that i’m aware of

very first thing to keep in mind is lottie would absolutely never ever judge you for being less privileged or for anything else

she’s super understanding of everything and will always step in to help out with things if needed, even if you don’t ask

if you needed extra money but felt horrible for asking i promise you she does not care, she’s 100% said she has enough money for the both of you

your parents probably love her because the second she has even an inkling there’s not enough money she just happens to casually leave some at your house while she’s there or she takes you shopping and just happens to buy things your family needs

also please let her spoil you i know she’d want to so bad

would ask you shopping at least twice a month and if you’re like “lottie i don’t have enough money” she’s like “it’s okay girl i got you”

type of gf to stand outside the change rooms and wait for you (would 100% wanna see, please show them to her)

she’s also veryyyy good at telling what will look amazing on you vs what wouldn’t, but is really good with being subtle about it

like if you were looking at something she’d be like “oh this is cute!” and drag you across the store

i just know this diva also randomly shows up at your house with things she thinks you might need

she genuinely acts as if it’s not a problem (it’s not. she does not care if your wealthy) and is honestly more than happy to get you and your family whatever you might need no matter what it is

god forbid someone says anything about you or your family or literally just anything slightly related to you because she starts tweaking

she herself isn’t a shit talker and is not a violent person, however she is friends with shit talkers and violent people and she does nawt want anyone talking shit about you

she herself doesn’t go too far with like a rumour or something, but the rest of the yellowjackets do because they also love you

she’d be super worried before nationals (if you weren’t coming with her or weren’t on the team) for obvious reasons but she tries not to be overbearing about it

however she definitely leaves you some money just in case it’s needed while she’s away

if you do come with her to nationals for whatever reason she still leaves money for your parents or whoever you live with because she doesn’t want anything to happen to them

she may seem kind of overbearing sometimes, but she doesn’t think any less of you for not being rich like she is and she loves being able to help you

#mars writing 🧈#yellowjackets #lottie matthews #charlotte matthews #x reader #yellowjackets x reader #lottie mathews x reader

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lazy4honey · 28 days ago

Text

Insidious Waters

I felt encouraged so I wrote more and now it’s about 6k words.

Trigger Warning: thalassophobia, claustrophobia, a creeping change of the reader’s body, way of thinking, and perception (including food)

Contains: tentacles / koromodako x gender neutral reader; dub-con, insidious, i.e. gradual, subtle but harmful, assimilation; nipple play, penetration, lots of 💦, belly bulge, cumflation, a form of sex pollen, orgy, breeding, oviposition, NSFW & MDNI

✧ Good to know: a merrow is a mermaid or merman in Irish folklore

✧ : a koromodako is an octopus-like yokai that appears small and can grow to large sizes, big enough to engulf fish or big ships, and then shrink again

Don’t like, don’t read!

Five years ago, they caught a merrow near the northwestern Dalay Coast. They were brought into a research facility far inland, and then never heard of again.

There were protests against this treatment of the ocean folk in the beginning, but those soon died down. With the ocean constantly encroaching on the continent, there were many more personal things to worry about.

Then, you were invited to join an expedition. The vessel for this expedition would be the luxury cruiser sized submarine Athena, and the goal was to catch more sea merfolk and study them while on board. Even if you didn’t want to, you had no choice but to agree.

There were many people boarding the Athena this early morning when the pale dawn had just started to illuminate the foggy sea. The huge submarine resembled a behemoth lying in wait amidst the gentle waves, making your heart sink in trepidation as you gazed at it and clutched your sparse luggage. They’d told you that you wouldn’t need a lot down there, but as always, they weren’t to be fully trusted.

The queue moved forward. You swallowed nervously and couldn’t help thinking of that merrow they’d caught back then. Had they gleaned any insights from that capture, or were they just as clueless as in the beginning, which was why they sent you on this expedition? It was hard to say, and worrying to think about.

“Are you alright?”

You turned back. A towering orc lady was looking at you worriedly.

“You seem a little pale.”

You forced a smile, “Just nervous, thank you.”

She tilted her head. “I don’t understand why you’re thanking me, but you’re welcome.”

That got a chuckle out of you. Right, humans and their politeness were very strange to other beings residing on Pangea. Even elves with their mellifluous language had a more direct way of speaking than most humans. Or maybe it was more… sincere?

Anyway, such qualities were much appreciated.

There was a disturbance at the front of the queue; someone has forgotten their documents and was now getting into an argument.

The orc lady behind you sighed, “Just how long do we have to wait before we van set off?”

You thought about it, “Probably a few hours.”

She groaned.

Time passed slowly, and eventually, boredom made people get creative. Sitting down to read or paint, making some last calls before the connection was gone, downloading a slew of videos and podcasts, playing games or simply chatting with nearby people, all brought some liveliness into the long queue.

As such, you learned that the orc lady was named Flora, specialized in maritime shell creatures and their reproduction cycles, and was comically clumsy at fighting. She laughed when she said that her mother had kicked her out because of that last part.

Later, a few others joined your conversation, and by the time the sun had reached its zenith, you finally stepped on board of the Athena. It was just the compression chamber, but a little step is still a step.

Only after adjusting to the pressure were you allowed to truly enter the submarine. As the name hinted at, the Athena was built for gathering intel and preparing for a potential war with the ocean dwellers. Because of this, there were many researchers from various areas of expertise on board, all tasked with uncovering the secrets of the unfathomable depths.

From the inside, despite being tight and narrow to the point of triggering claustrophobia, the Athena didn’t look like an expedition vessel. It seemed more like a luxury cruiser, with an elegant lobby displaying a false sky through a digital dome and many potted plants cluttering the space between the intimately spaced seating areas. The sleeping arrangements were also very lavish — or rather, having a single person cabin with a bunk bed over a desk and its own bathroom was considered lavish for a submarine.

You stowed away your luggage, then followed the floor plan to the canteen. Following the overall style though, it was more of a restaurant. It made you feel like each meal could be your last before your inevitable death. As a result, the appetizing dishes all ended up being tasteless when they entered your mouth.

In the evening, after another tasteless dinner and a long steam bath, you lay in bed reading a book when there was an announcement. They said that everyone had boarded, so the teams currently on shift would do one last round of checks before the Athena would set off. If everything went well, by tomorrow morning, you would already be under the waves when you woke up again.

The following days, you barely noticed that you were inside a huge metal can diving deeper and deeper into the dark abyss that was the ocean. You followed your usual routine of eating, working, and entertaining yourself as you did on land, the only difference being the different colleagues and your occasional chat with Flora. Through the thick glass of the portholes, you saw the deep blue water, and sometimes when your thoughts drifted staring at that endless expanse, you meant to see something moving far away in the distance.

From then on, things got… strange. Your research still went as usual, but… for instance, when you were washing your hands and glanced up at the mirror, the reflected image you saw was blurred, a little like the mirror had fogged up. And in that reflection, your eyes carried an abysmal darkness unseen in any creature on land. Their gaze caught you, fascinated you, lured you with unspoken promises you couldn’t even put into thoughts, much less words.

Apart from this, the water in your bathroom smelled strange. You asked Flora and a few other people, but the water turned out to smell strange everywhere, so you unhappily decided to put this matter aside. Maybe the pressure was impacting your sense of smell? Or the water-filtration system couldn’t get rid of the deep sea’s unique stink, which was honestly more likely.

One evening, amidst the water’s weird scent, you unexpectedly fell asleep during your steam bath. Your mind was in a daze, resting on the fringes of consciousness. The water filling the bathtub splashed against you, and you vaguely felt something move next to you.

It was cold and smooth, almost slimy, feeling strange as it brushed against your bare skin. When it touched you, you recognized it as a pair of tentacles. They wandered over your body in an exploratory manner, poking and squeezing every now and then.

Then one of the tentacles poked your nipple. You moaned uncontrollably. The previous touches had already made heat pool in your abdomen like a lava lake, and touching you there only made it boil over.

Seemingly intrigued by your reaction, the tentacles focused their attention on your chest. They stroked up and down, feeling your areoles and tugging at your nipples, circling around the temperature sensitive nubs with their cold tips. Your nipples quickly became erect, and you unconsciously squirmed in your daze.

It was as if your world narrowed down to only the sensations on your chest. The cold tentacles sent sparks along your nerves into your brain and crotch, igniting a deep desire that set your body aflame. Your mouth hung open as you panted and bucked your hips, rubbing your thighs against each other for more stimulation, and then you came. Like the gently splashing waves in your bathtub, the orgasm washed over you. It was an almost cathartic feeling, as if something hidden deep within you had been quietly unlocked.

When you woke from this more than pleasant dream, the water was already cold. It reminded you of the two tentacles that had rubbed your chest and nipples into an orgasm, and your abdomen couldn’t help tightening with renewed desire. You subconsciously touched the erection between your thighs, and with just that slight bit of pressure, you came again. Your loud moan echoed in the narrow bathroom, back arching and toes curling.

Afterwards, you lay panting in the tub for a while before getting up to empty the bath and take a quick shower. Then you went to bed.

The next few days were very peaceful, only haunted by the occasional sudden nap that came with hazy wet dreams about a bundle of black tentacles roaming all over your body. Other than that, you felt fine. Maybe even better than before.

The same couldn’t be said about your colleagues. It wasn’t only you who felt that the water smelled strange, and strange dream-like experiences weren’t limited to you, either. Multiple people couldn’t deal with the change of smell, to the point where they went to check on the water filtration system only to find nothing. And those dreams were mostly unpleasant, with cold hands groping them, wet kelp entangling their limbs, or something unfathomable and unspeakable staring them down, making them feel unsafe as long as they were underwater.

But the Athena wouldn’t resurface for at least another month. Unless things went terribly haywire, but even then there was no guarantee that this huge submarine would make it back up…

A few days later, just when some people had started getting better — or maybe just used to it — the Athena suddenly shook.

It was like an earthquake. The hull creaked and groaned, the violent shaking making it impossible to stand still, and alarms blared throughout the decks as machines were damaged. People rushed back and forth to take care of their respective responsibilities, you among them, doing your best to reach your lab. Upon opening the door, shards of broken glass flew through the air and cut your protectively raised arms. For some reason, those few drops of blood smelled particularly pungent at this moment.

Disregarding the shards, you went forward to secure the remaining containers and utensils. It wasn’t really useful, but at least it was something to do.

You managed to busy yourself for quite a while, and only poked your head out again when the submarine had stopped shaking.

The Athena was a mess. A slew of items and fragments was scattered throughout the hallways and a few lights were malfunctioning, eerily shining their flickering light on a bunch of crying, wounded, and even some dead people. It was horrifying.

Later, after the Athena had been roughly repaired and the corpses were moved to the morgue, you heard from Flora that the submarine had been attacked by the ocean folk. The people in the cockpit had made eye contact with a hollow-eyed merrow the size of a blue whale, and then huge black tentacles had grabbed the submarine and squeezed it. Considering everything, it was a blessing so many people were still alive.

Of course, not everyone saw it that way.

Until the submarine reached the target location at the bottom of the sea a week later, the mood on board remained depressed. Everyone got their shit together, and the first exploration team got into the shuttle. They returned just an hour later, making the eagerly waiting people assume they’d run into trouble until they saw it—

The merrow.

She had deep green hair, and scales of the same color covering her skin and fishtail. Compared to a human, she was big, but from her features she appeared like a teenager. The reactions brought by her appearance were varied, from fondly remembering their own children to lust and the desire to take her apart, a whole array of emotions displayed before your eyes.

You felt pity. That was, until the laboratory ‘taking care’ of her was slaughtered. The merrow had somehow broken through the thick, bulletproof glass of the tank they kept her in and ensnared them with her song, inducing them to kill each other.

This time, you felt relief. It was good that the ocean folk weren’t helpless against you land dwellers.

Regarding matters of violence, your sympathy towards your kin was truly limited.

The exploration teams regularly took the shuttle out and brought back various ocean folk. After the experience with the merrow, those fishtailed creatures were only brought back dead. If the researchers wanted to observe them in action, they would have to join the exploration teams on the shuttle. Not many were willing to do so, so the daily ‘gifts’ were limited to corpses and unknown creatures found to be too lacking in intellect to be considered a threat.

Then, you got a ‘plant’. It was a cluster of black tentacles resembling a handful of thick seagrass, but you actually recognized them — those tentacles from your dreams. When they sensed you from within the container, they flocked to the glass, pressing themselves almost flat against it just to be closer to you. You felt their excitement and eagerness, and smiled fondly as you looked at them.

Your colleagues just thought you had finally found your fixation. They had no idea that when you remained alone in the lab for ‘overtime’ you actually opened the container. The black tentacles waved happily and crawled out and into your hands. It felt strange to hold them, a tangle of cold and slimy appendages consisting of pure muscle and nothing else.

They hugged your wrists, then started to expand, quickly swelling in size until they were just as big as you remembered. Their touch ignited the fire in your abdomen, and your breathing got rough just from watching them playfully fiddle with your fingers. They must’ve perceived your arousal as they stilled a moment, and then stretched themselves long and flat to make their way beneath your clothes.

You felt them move across your body, spreading all over you in a cold embrace. They curled around your nipples, rubbing and tugging in that familiar way that made your erection press against your underwear within seconds, and made their way further down to your crotch. A few tentacles slipped beneath your foreskin to caress your engorged glans, others wandered along to press against your leaking hole, and then one finally penetrated you.

It explored your insides in a fervent manner, cold slime mixing with your heat, and the moment it grazed a certain spot you came. Your cum squirted over the tentacles and stained your white lab uniform’s pants while you pressed a hand over your mouth, trying your best to muffle your blissful moans.

The tentacle inside you squirmed when you clenched around it. You felt it pulse and swell, and then it discharged its own cold, sticky cum. It was so much it made your belly bulge a little bit, like you’d just eaten something.

A moment later, a second tentacle squeezed itself through your tight entrance into your hole. Some slimy cum dribbled out with this action, and as the tentacles intertwined they expanded within you, stretching you with their girth. And then they started thrusting. Deep, slow thrusts hit your core as they bottomed out, wonderfully sliding in and out of you with the greatest of ease. Tears of ecstasy clouded your eyes as you came again, biting back your cries while a little puddle formed on your seat.

The tentacles were naturally sensitive to your emotions. They crawled up along your spine and swelled a little, wiping away your tears and forcing open your mouth so they could stuff themselves inside. Their tips entangled your tongue, and they trembled when you bit down on them, their trusts turning messy as they shot their cold cum down your throat and into your belly just a second later.

You greedily swallowed the fishy slime. The sound of squelching within you as they messily pounded your hole was intoxicating, and you could feel your stomach stretch from the amount of cum they pumped into you.

They must’ve noticed your stomach, because the next moment, a tentacle pressed down on your belly. Immediately, cum overflowed from your hole and spurted all over your crotch and chair. It thoroughly stained for ass and even some of your pants legs and shoes.

The tentacles froze for a moment, seeming a little stunned. Then you felt them throb. It made you feel like they’d grown even bigger, filling you thoroughly with their presence. They abruptly slammed into you. There was a feeling of desperate fervor as they rammed themselves up your hole, slithering all over your body and almost painfully pulling on your nipples. Slimy cum was pounded frothy and bubbled out, tentacles trembled as you bit down on them, and the fresh cum erupting from them as your hole fluttered with another orgasm nearly made you topple over and fall off your chair.

After two more rounds, you and the tentacles were finally done. All your pent up frustration was vented in the most thrilling way, leaving you in a state of rapture. Your chest heaved as you panted and leaned against the table before you, where the empty container was placed. Looking at that thing, you thought about putting the tentacles back in, but then decided against it. You had a much, much better idea.

Your legs almost gave out beneath you when you got up. Threads of slimy cum connected your ass and chair for a moment, shimmering in the sterile light of the lab.

By the time you reached the lab’s washing station — a shower, actually — you were crawling on your knees because of how badly your thighs kept trembling when you tried to stand. You turned on the water and let it drench your cum-stained clothes, outlining your bulging belly and the black tentacles sticking to your body.

Taking off your clothes took a while. On one hand, it was because of how relaxed you felt after your orgasms, and on the other, it was due to the tentacles. They’d move every now and then, revealing bruised skin or swollen nipples, and they also wriggled inside you. It made you quiver from overstimulation, and yet you still enjoyed it, like it was a proof of your intimate connection.

You calmly labeled yourself as crazy and a hopeless cause that would sooner or later bring doom to the Athena’s crew, and then started carefully peeling the slimy tentacles that had been warmed by your body temperature off of you. The tentacles squirmed, seemingly confused, but they quickly settled down again when you patted them.

With the tentacles out of your hole, just tensing your muscles made the clear cum gush out. It mixed with the water and disappeared down the drain, the flow of it leaving your body almost making you come again.

You took your sweet time washing yourself. Only when your fingers were wrinkly from the water did you turn off the shower and turn your attention back to the cluster of tentacles that was sitting next to you like a little puppy.

The black tentacles had shrank again, appearing exceptionally harmless and cute. You caressed them, picked them up, and then started inserting the small tentacles into your hole one after another. Every time one entered you, you groaned and hummed and rocked your hips, needing to take a break after each one.

The tentacles quickly understood what was happening. They waved happily and then started cooperating with you, eagerly cramming themselves into your warm hole. Their coldness quickly filled you up, accidentally triggering another orgasm and causing your belly to bulge even more than when they’d previously pumped you full of their cum, making you look like you were three or four months pregnant.

After calming down, you contentedly stroked your stomach, then dried yourself and put on a fresh uniform. It hid your distended shape well enough, so you didn’t worry about being found out. Anyway, the Athena crew didn’t have the luxury of caring about what exactly happened in the labs right now.

The stained uniform was dumped down a chute, presumably joining a pile of filthy uniforms that needed to be deep-cleaned before they could ever be worn again. Then you wiped up puddles and trails of slimy cum you’d left in the lab, washed your hands, and left like nothing had happened.

With every step, you felt the tentacles inside you. It made you fight the urge to go for another round right then and there in the hallway, despite already having been fucked raw. Then you caught a whiff of something — sweet and cloying like honey, making you unconsciously swallow as your genitals throbbed.

You quickly pressed a hand over your mouth and nose. You’d discarded your emergency gas mask with your uniform and forgotten to take a new one, only regretting your thoughtlessness at this moment when you really needed it. Cursing whatever was releasing its version of sex pollen, you started looking around and soon found the lab where the disturbing smell was coming from.

And when you found it, you wished you hadn’t even started looking. At this point, who even cared?? But like being witness to a car accident, you found it hard to look away, standing frozen at the entrance where a dented high-security door was just barely hanging onto its frame.

Because in the lab, a fox demon was currently doggy style fucking his swollen red knot into Flora. Both were completely naked, their uniforms lying on the floor, torn to shreds and stained with… water?

You frowned and scanned the room, doing your best not to breathe in more of that disgustingly sweet scent. Your gaze quickly settled on a tank in the lab containing a big mussel. It was open, with a suspiciously low water level, and next to it lay some test tubes and measurement cups still wet with a few drops of water and lip marks…

Ah. They’d drunk the mussel water. And gotten into heat from it. And considering what pollen were, the sweet-smelling stuff in the water that made them go into said heat was most likely the mussel’s sperm.

…okay, maybe it wouldn’t be just your fault that the Athena was doomed.

You unknowingly rubbed your thighs together when your genitals throbbed again, and only then did you realize that you’d somehow made your way over to the tank. The realization that you were just about to drink that stuff made you shiver with dread. Your brain crashed for a few seconds, and then you bolted out of the lab filled with obscene squelching and loud moans down the hallway through the lobby where two orcs were sandwiching a merrow with their fat cocks and back to your own little cabin.

You slammed the door shut, leaning against it as you panted.

Were the ocean folk… no, was the ocean trying to assimilate you? That might explain why after the water started to smell everyone got so horny… but it wasn’t a bad thing… If the continent got flooded anyway, being able to live on underwater was still quite a good deal, no? And you’d even be able to spend the rest of your life with that cluster of black tentacles currently obediently nestled in your hole…

As your thoughts returned to the tentacles, they squirmed as if on cue. The movement triggered a wave of heat, washing over you through your blood and making your swollen genitals twitch with renewed arousal.

Ah right, that heat-inducing mussel water…

You made your way to the bathroom. In the short amount of time it took you to walk over, you’d already started sweating, and your body was suffused with a fierce blush that steamed your brain soft. You barely had the patience to take off your fresh uniform, taking a quick second to thank yourself for not being stupid enough to wear your soaked underwear after being fucked so thoroughly, and then got into the bathtub.

Your genitals pressed against the cold material, and the sensation sent sparks up your spine and elicited a relieved groan from you. Now, in your own cabin, you could be as loud and messy as you wanted.

You reached down to your crotch and prodded your entrance. Your fingers easily slid into your already stretched and dripping with slime hole, touching the warmed tentacles inside. They writhed at your touch, coiling around your fingers and obediently cooperating with getting out of you.

Then they expanded dramatically, so big that it was a challenge for them to fit in the bathtub with you. Every time they moved, they unintentionally yet enticingly brushed against you, each touch stoking the flames of desire burning within you and making you delirious with the intense need to be fucked.

You grabbed a tentacle and desperately ground your hips against it, leaving your leaking fluids all over the slimy appendage. Your hole kept contracting around nothing, like it was gasping, inviting the tentacles back in to fill you, to relentlessly ravage you.

The tentacles wriggled. They coiled around you, hooking around your fingers, entangling your tongue, and pinching your nipples, wrapping you up like they were hiding you. Then a tentacle thicker than your forearm crammed itself into your hole. Your entrance was stretched painfully wide open, yet with the pain came waves of sublime pleasure that made you come the moment it bottomed out.

But it still wasn’t enough.

You bit the tentacle in your mouth and freed a hand to reach for your genitals that were so erect they hurt. You wanted to pull back the foreskin, rub your pulsing glans and torment the engorged tissue beneath—

The tentacles stopped you. They put two tentacles to your disregarded front, telling you with their actions that they would take care of this for you.

As such, everything you wanted was done. The foreskin was pulled back to lay bare your glans that was already peaking out, which was tugged and squeezed, slimy tentacle tips massaging you in an unskilled manner, all the while thrusting into you.

They were doing so much at the same time that your brain overheated and crashed. Engulfed in exhilarating ecstasy, you heard and felt nothing except the tentacles. Like a small boat tumbling between the valleys and peaks of the crashing waves of bliss, you were tossed and groped and pounded by them like a toy. It was a complete loss of control on both of your parts, as if your heat had infected the tentacles, making your hole feel like heaven on earth.

They fucked you for a long time, triggering one orgasm after another and squeezing all the liquid from your body while pumping you full of their cum.

In the end, you were fucked raw once more, overstimulation burning in your genitals. You felt satiated like never before, your stomach heavy with the tentacles' seed making you especially happy. It was just a pity that it kept leaking out…

The tentacles stroked your belly, incidentally causing some more cum to spill and earning themselves a glare from you. But they just affectionately nuzzled your cheek.

Afterwards, bedded on the tentacles, you fell asleep. They held still, not bothering you during your rest.

When you woke up again, the tentacles moved, causing the thick tentacle still plugging your stuffed hole to press against your bladder. You whined and had the tentacles lift you to the toilet, also using the opportunity to empty some of the cum into the bowl.

Then you slowly washed, had the tentacles shrink so they could hide inside you again, got dressed, and made your way to the canteen. It was just… compared to before you went to sleep, things had escalated.

For example, the hallway connecting the researcher’s cabins was filthy with cum. From white to clear, from liquid to sticky and thick, it was smeared onto the walls and doors, had splashed onto the ceiling, and formed large puddles on the floor, densely filling the stagnant air with the obscene smell of vented lust and desires. In one puddle, you even meant to see something wriggle… Fortunately, most of the doors were closed, or the cacophony of snores, moans and screams would’ve been unbearable.

The lobby wasn’t any better. Currently on display was the aftermath of an orgy, naked bodies and all kinds of fluids wherever the eye saw. Apart from your regular colleagues and the Athena’s crew, you also spotted a few limbs belonging to ocean creatures, like the fins or tails of merrows, webbed hands, and some red tentacles, all alive and well.

You smiled happily. It seemed like the land and sea folk were getting along very well!

In the canteen, you didn’t bother anymore to even glance at what everyone was doing. The slapping, squelching and sucking sounds amidst the noise of chewing and cutlery clinking against plated said it all. You turned these things out and queued up to get yourself something to eat.

When the Athena first submerged, the meals offered fully catered to the tastes of the land dwellers. Everything was neatly killed, cleaned, and cooked, seeming especially concerned about the aesthetics when serving them. Now, things were much simpler. One meal consisted of things like a plate of fresh seaweed, jellyfish tentacles and strips of hard white coral, a bowl of saltwater red with the diluted blood of crudely chopped off fish heads, and some roughly descaled fish.

You knew that before, this would have looked utterly disgusting to you, yet now, just looking at it you couldn’t help swallowing your saliva as your stomach growled. It tasted so delicious you ate it all and unexpectedly went back for seconds.

After you had your fill of food, you sauntered out of the canteen and over to the labs. There, the vigorous promotion of a harmonious life between land and ocean dwellers was in full swing. A pair of elven women were riding a fishtailed man’s two cocks, a vampire was spreading his ass cheeks to let a long string of slimy, ping-pong ball sized round eggs shoot out of his hole while cumming, a bunch of hulking orcs were being ravished by colorful tentacles with suckers, nubs, and ridges, a succubus was taking two cocks with their pussy while ramming their dick up a merrow’s cloaca... With things going like this, probably everyone abroad the Athena would come back ashore pregnant, if at all.

...Compared to your colleagues, you were still relatively sane.

You closed your lab’s door behind you and sat down at your desk to record your experiences. From the water smelling strange to the dreams, getting attacked and then encountering the tentacles and being fucked by them, everything was neatly written down. After a moment of thought, you also noted what happened to your colleagues, your guess of why that was, and your hypothesis that the strange-smelling water and water copulating with the ocean dwellers would assimilate one and allow a fully assimilated being to live underwater henceforth.

Rereading your log, you corrected a few spelling and grammar errors before finally nodding with satisfaction. The entry was saved, sent to some addresses you trusted, and then closed.

From now on, you’d focus on your life with the tentacles.

The tentacles wriggled on cue. A moan escaped your lips and echoed slightly in the empty lab, and the chair beneath you creaking as you rocked your hips.

There was a sound of tearing clothes when the tentacles got out of you and expanded. They teased your fragile neck and slithered into your mouth, entangled your limbs and spread your legs wide open to present yourself to them, unusually hot as they caressed your eagerly waiting hole and plunged in.

The heat was like a spark springing over to you, igniting an almost violent desire that had been engraved into your bones during your contact with them. A few thrusts in, not even bottomed out yet, your hole was already fluttering around the tentacles. Your thighs trembled, your toes curled, and your erect genitals twitched as you came, an enthralling fire burning through your veins and coming together at your core.

Then the tentacles bottomed out. They repeatedly thrust against a certain spot at your core, where the fire burned especially intensely, even holding back on cumming for long enough that you came two more times before finally shooting their cum against that spot. It was like a concentrated stream of water, powerful and thrilling, as if it could bore an extra hole into you.

And then you felt it. One of the tentacles poked at that spot they’d targeted, massaging it, and then it sank in.

You moaned at the sensation. It was so much tighter than your already well-used hole, burning with anticipation, making you aware of a new part within you. That one tentacle slowly thrust with the others, only it penetrating deep into your core. This time, you came with them together the moment their cum gushed into that space they had opened up within you. You bit down on the tentacles in your mouth and your eyes rolled with pleasure. It filled you so well, it made your belly bulge so nicely, it felt as if it would never get out...

The tentacles completely retreated from your hole, leaving you feeling uncomfortably empty. Your gaping hole dripped with slime, yet nothing left your core. Satisfaction spread between you and the tentacles, and they also conveyed a sense of eager anticipation and barely restrained fervor.

You reassured them; you wanted this just as much as them.

The tentacles throbbed and squirmed, squelching as they rubbed against each other, and then a shorter, more slender tentacle was extended from their core. It fit snugly in your hole, though it still left room for another one to squeeze in. But that wasn’t necessary now. That tentacle penetrated the hole they’d opened up within your core, making your ass rest firmly against their center, and bottomed out with that.

The tentacles brushed against your nipples as they thrust. They tugged and groped as they always did, more fervent than ever, and even somewhat desperate. You felt good, not enough to make you come, but you still clenched around their length.

It didn’t take long for them to come. That single tentacle's throbs shook the entire cluster, twitching and thrashing so much it swept your desk clean with a loud crash. Then the base of that tentacle bulged.

The next moment, something firm and round contained within prodded your hole. One was pushed past the entrance, then a second, then a third, and then you lost count as they made their way up your channel. They pressed against your core and were forced into that opened space, eliciting endless moans and groans and meaningless murmurs from you, and when the first one dropped into you, you came. You didn’t stop coming as string upon string of eggs was pumped into you, the weight so comforting and enrapturing, the way your belly bulged and was eventually distended not letting you come down from your climax for even a second.

After an unknown amount of time, the tentacle went limp and slipped out. Immediately after, just as you’d caught your breath, the eggs that hadn’t made it into your core and were clogging up your hole shot out. The sleek, round things felt wonderful against your walls and entrance, wracking your exhausted body with orgasm after orgasm.

Held by the tentacles stroking your heavy stomach, your brain felt like it had been pounded to mush by them. Not a single thought could form as all space was taken up by the sublime pleasure of being bred by the tentacles, and the endless amount of joyful anticipation you held for bearing their offspring.

Because once they were out, you could do it all over again.

And again.

Until you broke.

209 notes · View notes

grapefives · 10 months ago

Text

did it or not ?

hoshina + gen oneshots! (separately) x gn!reader

arranged marriaged au! + hurt/cormfort + injuries + denial of feelings + platoon leader reader! + enemies to lovers (?)

warnings; it’s gender neutral reader but… lowkey lenient to male readers, but obviously only if you think hard jajaj, that’s all, also, change of work format! not proof read.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ hoshina soshiro

— he wanted NOTHING to do with you! not even as entertainment to see what could become of you both, NADA

— it’s not that he would argue with you or anything, but he’d speak a little harsher when it comes to you

— constantly asks why did he have to be married when both of you were in the defense force and could die any day

— at least he acknowledges your hard work

— mina actually likes you for him, so she always tells him he should show you affection, to which he gags at.

“ah, hoshina, don’t you think l/n looks good like that? sweaty, covered in monster fluids, look at how badass l/n looks, took down so many monsters…”

“what, are you saying you want l/n to take my spot as vice captain? since your praising l/n so much.” hoshina asks darkly while placing his hands on his hips.

mina shakes her head, expression neutral, “no, of course not, but maybe you should give l/n a nice reward-“

“ugh!” he groans, immediately walking away from her. he knows her expression wouldn’t show much, but he knew her true feelings. she was probably laughing in her head, mentally patting her back for ticking him off.

it didn’t help that you had defeated so many monsters, a few more than him. he eyes you as you flick some monster grub off of your shoulder, looking around to step aside, away from the scene. he hated going back “home” with you, you took the longest showers.

“good job today,” your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, like he said, you took long showers, so he sometimes zones out waiting for you to get out. “i wish i knew how to use blades,” you comment.

he stares at you, fresh out of the shower. your cheeks have a rosy color, definitely from the warm shower you had taken. your eyes weren’t on him, but with the way you said that, it felt like you were looking directly at him. you don’t talk much to him either.

“for a platoon leader your skills are too inadequate,” he bites before going to the restroom. “train more and you’ll be better suited.”

— honestly, you wish he’d at least make fun of you or something, not nag or insult your honed skills.

— you two lived more like strangers that shared a room, little talk yet always around

one day, you two had to face a group of honju. it wasn’t something either of you couldn’t manage, but for some reason, hoshina was having a bit of a hard time. especially with the way you kept missing your shots.

“the heck is wrong with you?” he ask as he slices the honju’s joints.

“the heck is wrong with you? you keep cutting off limbs and letting them fall on me! makes me miss my shots!” you argue as you hop off a wall.

“if we don’t take this one down we can’t help out with the other ones!”

“well if you weren’t all up on the honju then i would’ve shot it down already!”

mind you, you two were still honing your new, growing skills. hoshina was recently risen to vice captain and you as platoon leader.

“and i can’t slice it down because you keep shooting at the wrong areas!”

in the end, the honju got a good hit in you and him. minor injuries of course, but the next day you were sent off in a mission where plenty of platoon leaders were called to assist. hoshina was recently getting inside the house when you trudge up to him, looking absolutely worse than the day before from the honju.

your yored expression was one he’d never seen, mostly because he barely looks at you.

“woah there, did you age in the span of a day?” he finds himself joking.

yet you walk past him and go inside your home.

“nice talk.” he grumbles as he follows.

after your shower, you sit at the vanity, with a sleeveless shirt. there are fresh scrapes on your shoulders, your cheek is bruised and your hand are wrapped in bandages. he notices, because you hum softly as you put ointment on the scrapes.

“a mission?” he asks, surprising himself at his worry.

“broke my guns, had to use that blade.” you reply, closing the bottle.

“i told you to practice more close combat.”

“you didn’t say anything, you commented on my bad skills.”

“same difference.”

“if i die one day it’s your fault.”

he frowns, “how would it be my fault?”

and your eyes fell on him. and they gave him an answer he couldn’t hear. you’ll have pushed me so far away that you won’t make it in time when i need you.

— fighting beside you turns to be like fighting alongside mina. he carves a way and you hit, except only on those missions that aren’t nation threatening.

— at some point, he enjoys the teamwork.

— doesn’t show interest head on, he does it in silent ways. (like placing a cold water on your night stand. putting your books back in place when you’re too much in a rush to organize before leaving.)

— your determination for constant growth impresses him, he notices it when you beat him one day on slicing down a small kaiju

and just when he starts to appreciate you, something happens.

“hoshina,” your voice surprises him as he slices through the kaiju.

“l/n, what is it? kinda busy here-“

“VICE CAPTAIN HOSHINA! L/N HAS TAKEN A CRITICAL HIT!” okonogi’s voice goes through, “SHIELDS ARE DOWN!”

“uh,” you chuckle, “so are my vitals, have you said that?”

“what-?” he gasps as he dodges an attack, he’s in a tight spot right now.

“VICE CAPTAIN!” okonogi cries, “YOU MUST RELEASE MORE POWER! THAT KAIJU IS ADAPTING TO YOU!”

“yeah!” he hops off a rooftop and slices down the middle, causing a hit, but it’s bot enough yet. ��someone back platoon leader! where is everyone?” he barks.

“we’re sending more reinforcements! the kaijus had overwhelmed our troops and many are severely injured! platoon leader l/n please hold out until back up comes!”

“we’re too shorthanded for backup!” hoshina argues. “i’ll finish this and head over!” he grunts as he attacks once more.

“so like, i’m bleeding out,” you say softly.

“PLATOON LEADER PLEASE STAY STILL! YOU DON’T HAVE STRENGTH LEFT!”

“how bad is it?” hoshina asks as he finally takes down the kaiju. he’s out of breath.

“VICE CAPTAIN HOSHINA HAS ELIMINATED THE KAIJU IN THE SECTOR!” okonogi shouts, “if anyone can go back up platoon leader, we’ll have victory soon!”

“just how bad is it?”

“the honju is a plant based type! it’s core keeps shifting!”

“and so are my organs, i wanna throw up,” you say.

“you idiot! hide! you can’t keep facing it! how far away am i okonogi!?”

“six minutes- PLATOON LEADER L/N YOUR SUIT IS OVERHEATING AGAIN! PLEASE STOP, YOU’VE ALREADY LOST TOO MUCH BLOOD!”

“I FOUND IT’S CORE!” you yell before going silent.

“VICE CAPTAIN PLEASE HURRY! PLATOON LEADER COULD DIE IF THEY DON’T PULL THIS OFF BEFORE YOU ARRIVE-“ okonogi gasps.

“okonogi? what is it? l/n?” he calls out as he dashed inside the building your squad had been.

the sight was ugly, many officers thrown about, blood and kaiju fluids everywhere.

“PLATOON LEADER L/N’S VITALS ARE DROPPING! PLEASE SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!”

“where is it?” he asks as he runs across, slicing the vines coming at him.

“uh, go to the control room far back, full of vines and living plants, literally they’ll attack you,” you slur into his ear. “hurry before i get digested.”

“WHAT!?” okonogi cries.

he sees red. no wonder your life force was dwindling. “YOU’RE SO RECKLESS!”

slice after slice, he makes it through and strikes the core. it’s disregarded by him as he searches for you. soon, he stands before you.

he stares at your body, laid there on the floor surrounded by kaiju fluids, in your own blood. you’re breaths are too shallow, too painful.

“you want something…” you say lightly between breaths, “to do with me now?”

“what are you talking about-“

“platoon leader please don’t use your energy! it keeps dwinDLING! MEDICS! MEDICS!” okonogi screeches.

“you… you never look at me… never accepted me,” you smile tiredly, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

the gash on your side is seeping blood. your suit had given up from over exertion.

“can you stop?” he’s kneeling over you, trying to lift you out of the puddle. “if you don’t come back home with me, then i don’t want to go home.”

you close your eyes, there’s commotion far away. medics maybe? “we live like strangers under a roof…”

hoshina grips you, “i’m… sorry,” he bows his head, pulling you close but still so gentle to your wounds. “please know that i am grateful for you… all these years, you’ve also pushed me to extend my potential…”

“platoon leader! vice captain!” a medic calls out as they bring a stretcher.

“well…” you give a shaky breath, eyes closing, “guess i was… bound to… be in your arms…”

“y/n-?”

“WE’RE LOSING THE PLATOON LEADER!” and everything become white noise to hoshina.

was he going to go home to an empty house? was he going to lose you, after finally accepting that you’re now a part of his life routine, a routine he doesn’t want to exclude? what’s this ache in his heart? he feels cold.

“-out of danger zone,” okonogi’s voice brings him back.

— seeing you frail was never something he expected to see

— you were always standing, as badly as you were always injured, you never showed signs of injury until you two got home or he found you at the hospital

hence, seeing you on the hospital bed wasn’t ever in his mind. you just woke up, smiling at him. your smile is wonderful, he felt like that warmth radiating from you finally brought him back to life. after days of feeling lost, cold and alone, he felt like he was back on track.

“what? wanna be in my arms?” you grin, joking.

and neither of you expected him to take up the offer.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ gen narumi

— literally did NOT ACKNOWLEDGE YOU

— the audacity! you were so annoyed but you understood too, why would anyone want an arranged marriage?

— he’s cute, you loved looking at him even if he was just yelling at his screen when you were both on stand by

— he ARGUES. ALWAYS. just to get a rise out of you but you PISS HIM OFF when you don’t give him the reactions he wants.

“i want to sleep on the left side today.” he huffs, glaring down at your sleeping figure.

you had literally just managed to fall asleep after all his yelling and that bright ass tv. you glared at the wall, your back facing him as he looms over you.

“move,” he demands, shaking you with so much force you want to flip over and punch him.

yet, you close your eyes and roll over. literally rolling OVER him as you make your way to the right side, squishing him and making him yells and fight. still, you let that shove throw you off of him and settle on the right side. you fall back asleep, smiling at his grumpy remarks.

— as pay back he makes you go through brutal training. yet you always get back at him somehow back in the “comfort” of your shared room.

— you’re more serious about the things you have to accomplish outside of the battlefield, he’s not.

— he constantly berates you for your fighting style, just to piss you off

— at some point you lose confidence in yourself. had had been extremely harsh that day and the kaiju managed to make a good example of you. and gen had laughed at you for it.

“have you changed the bandages?” he asks, looming over you when you were trying to fall asleep.

you say nothing, ignoring his presence. yet, he cages you, practically on top of you with both arms to your sides as he glares down.

“y/n.”

your eyes snap open. that is the first time he’s ever called you by your name and it had to be your first name? his nerve!

“get off me,” you grunt.

“have you changed your-“ he’s easily thrown off of you by your action, he didn’t expect you to move.

“why do you care?” you growl.

he frowns, “i don’t want you messing up our bed sheets!”

you end up leaving the room, crashing somewhere else. he obviously didn’t chase after you, you aren’t that important to him. yet, he couldn’t sleep, remembering the way you left; angry, hurt. he had gotten used to you sleeping next to him, to you waking him up when the two of you had to assist morning duties.

he honestly felt like he couldn’t breathe well, until you came in the morning to change into your attire. he immediately sat up on the bed, staring at you as you move about. not a hello, not a “good morning captain, gotta wake up now” to be followed by his complaints. not even an acknowledgment, you got ready, freshened up and left. he didn’t like that.

— he lives for attention. for recognition. there should always be someone that gives it to him, yet that was the day he realized you don’t.

— it made him feel like he had to prove himself to you.

“lower the sound to the tv, it’s late,” you day dryly.

“i’m winning! listen to me win!”

you just turn over and go to sleep. when he shouts at his victory, his immediate response is to turn to you. yet, since you’re sleeping, you don’t acknowledge him.

he stomps over to you and forces you awake, sitting you up and practically trying to open your eyelids.

“NARUMI!”

“I WON AGAIN!” he roars, shaking you.

— honestly the relationship is more like child and guardian despite how old you two are.

— he has no plans for a family, said that loud and clear

— same way he tries to get a rise out of you, you do it to him when you catch him training late at night

“this is the third night in a row, captain,” you tease as he freezes mid air attack.

“THEY TOLD ME TO BE ON STAND BY IN CASE A KAIJU APPEARED!” he screeches.

“at one in the morning?”

“HOW ABOUT YOU POLISH THOSE HORRIBLE SKILLS OF YOURS!?”

you laugh, setting down a cold water bottle on the floor. “don’t over do it, or else they’ll notice you’re doing this again.”

“SHUT UP! I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING!”

— you’re literally always tidying up behind him. he never tidies up.

“l/n, where are my clothes?” he argues one morning.

“have you washed them?” you ask, annoyed.

he pauses. ever since you two married, he’s never really lifted a finger. well, even when he lived alone, the defense force would sometimes always send someone in to clean up. he’s tidy up once a month but it wasn’t often. now that he thinks hard, as he stares at you in the kitchen, it’s always been you doing almost everything.

“why haven’t you washed them-“

“gen narumi i will throw this knife at you, how about you prove you’re good at surviving in your own home the way you survive out in the battlefield?” you bark as you turn back to face him.

you never snap at him like that, it’s always a silent glare or a petty action. never verbal.

fine, he’ll prove he’s good without you.

— he’s never felt like he’s had a place to belong, no matter how much he proved himself worthy

— captain isao was a clear example of his first time feeling a sense of accomplished belonging

and now, coming home to an empty cleaned out house, he wonders why he feels out of place. it freaks him out, it’s been years since he felt like this. he’s proven himself more than capable of being the best at defending the nation from threats… yet.. why hasn’t he done the same to keep a home.

you didn’t give a divorce, simply asked to be elsewhere for a while, off on a mission that even you don’t know how long will last. yet, coming home to this isn’t… normal… anymore. time and time again, he was rejected from homes and hoped orphanages, that desire to have a home long gone after years or not being enough no matter how much he proved himself.

and now, he’s alone in these four walls again. where you had tried to make a home out of. where he, unknowingly, didn’t even have to prove himself worthy of having. of belonging.

“captain gen! how can we help you?”

“i wanna see how platoon leader l/n’s mission is going.” he says dryly.

everyone in the room turns to him, like he lost his mind.

“uh, i-if you don’t mind captain, why would that be?”

“i don’t have to explain anything to you!”

he doesn’t get to watch or hear how your mission is going. captain isao kicks him out, he put up a fight of course, but it was embarrassing to even try to come up with a valid reason. he doesn’t like you, always in his business, in his commodity, in every mission, every training. always cleaning ip after him, always telling him to go to bed early, always telling him to file out reports- always breathing down his neck!

you’re weak. strong enough to be platoon leader but still so weak! always coming home hurt. always needing medicine. always taking breaks during training.

yet, when he finally gets to see you in action again, after weeks of being denied your whereabouts, he finds himself seeing you. actually seeing you in action. you’re different here than in training, than when you had last fought beside him. yet, you could do better. he knows that, so he grows frustrated when he sees you take a hit and miss the perfect opportunity to subjugate the kaiju.

going against the rules, like always, he does it for you. you’re eyes are wide as you see him do just what you were trying to do. so easily. they superiors are barking in your in ears. they’re doing the same in gen’s. yet, you couldn’t hear them, only your anger and your frustration, you’re insecurity eating at you again.

“was i ever, even for one second, enough for you?” you yell, stomping over towards him.

“you had a chance and you didn’t take it!” he barks.

“GEN NARUMI! YOU WILL BE SUSPENDED!” captain isao roars in the in ear.

“FOR WHAT!?

“for always making everything about yourself!” you jab your gun at him, shoving him a step back. “where’s your teamwork? why do you keep making me feel like i don’t belong here!”

he stares at you, wide eyed.

he… he made you feel like you don’t belong? you, l/n y/n who always did better throughout every mission. you, who always messed with him when he didn’t get along with you. you, who was always levelheaded even to nag at him.

“only-“

“only the strong survive here! i know!” you seethe, “if you want me out so bad just tell me! don’t insult my skills! my efforts!”

“hey, i’m your captain-“ his argument is weak in his ears too.

hence, he feels, for the first time, like he actually is in the wrong when you growl and walk past him. you stomp off, fuming. are you about to leave the defense force? give him the divorce?

“just so you know-“ he yells, making sure no one else is listening in. “you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

you stop in your tracks.

“i’m prideful, i don’t play nice,” he chokes out, “but… don’t leave me.”

you turn around, anger long gone. but you’re still distraught. you’re just dissatisfied. “gen… not now.”

and he watches you leave.

— screw all his kaiju missions. he has to win you back, because just now he’s realizing he had you.

“gen, what are you doing.”

“i need money.” he says as he kneels before you when you finally return home.

you nudge his head with your boot, “get up. how embarrassing, you sure you’re my captain?”

“HEY! RESPECT ME-!”

you walk past him, leaving him alone. he huffs, watching you set your belongings back.

“don’t move those boxes!”

“you ordered a bunch of stuff from yamazon for what!?”

“it’s stuff we could need!” he argues.

you sigh and turn around, “like what, gen?”

“uh,” he scratches his head, then gives you an accusatory look, “i don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“uh, yes you do! have you forgotten we’re married!?”

he looks away, unable to form an argument. it’s a surprise, normally he’s quick to fire back at you, but he seems so at bay. it’s…

“disgusting,” you grimace, “what’s wrong with you? aren’t you used to being suspended? what’s with this change?” you look around, “hey, it’s even clean in here, despite all these boxes.”

“yeah so what?” he huffs, crossing his arms. “i’m way better at cleaning than you are, i just don’t like doing slave work often.”

“slave-“

“plus, we’re married,” he puckers his lips as he looks away from you, “aren’t chores like,, shared or something?”

you stare at him wide eyed. is he… for real? he glances at you and you’re heart skips a beat at the blush that crawls on his face. he’s for real. ah, what a darn cute knuckle head.

“this is only going to last a day isn’t it,” you chuckle to yourself.

#anime headcanons #anime x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #gen narumi x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #kn8 x reader #kn8 x male reader #kaiju no 8 x male reader #kaiju no 8 x you #kaiju no 8 headcanons #kaiju no 8 oneshots #kn8 x you #kaiju no 8 x gender neutral reader #anime x male reader #hoshina soshiro x you #gen narumi x you

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