There Is SO Much To Look At….

Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

----

Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it. 

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look. 

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

—

The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

----

A/N: this was really fun to write!

my baby boi 🩷

uuuhhhhhmmmmMMMMM….

——

“Hey?”

“Hi.”

Interrupting his cooking, your hands come up to gently slot Choso’s face, smiling lovingly up at him while you angle him to face you. His chopping fingers still as you divert his attention, and he gives you a small smile and let his eyes wander your face. “Whatcha doin’?”

You raise on your tiptoes to plant a small kiss to his lips, “mwah.”

“Mwah,” he echos, his eyes dancing over your face affectionately.

“One more-“ you raise on your toes again to plop another kiss on his lips, “mwah!”

“Mwah.”

“Okay,” you hum, kissing his cheek and patting his back lovingly, “you can go back to cooking. Let me know when you need me.”

“I always need you,” he calls.

You just really like kissing Choso. You knew you liked it from the second you’d kissed him for the first time, unable to stop thinking about him and how right kissing him felt, you love kissing him like breathing and it feels just as comforting.

You kiss him anywhere and everywhere, grateful for the man you call your boyfriend and his chivalry of never letting you go too long without a kiss, or letting you kiss him whenever or wherever you see fit.

Like how the other day, driving home, he paid no mind as you grabbed his hand gently from the wheel, planting tiny kisses on the pads of his fingers and knuckles before letting it go back to its perch on the wheel.

Or, when you’re cuddling, and you slowly start kissing the sharpness of his jawline, not to mark it up, but sheerly because it’s the perfect area to sponge sticky kisses on, and he wraps his arms around you, as if to shield the action from the sunlight pouring in the windows.

Or, when you'd been rough housing for who knows how long, and once you rolled on top of him victoriously, you were able to pin his hands next to his head and pepper kisses over his scrunched face.

"It tickles," he complained.

You shrugged and smiled mischievously down at him, "that's punishment for losing."

You both know his words are empty, and he loves kissing you as much as he loves receiving them.

More than anything, your need to kiss Choso is nothing short of an obsession, compulsory and tkes over your mind and soul where you can't even begin to process going on with your day until the fixation is settled.

Not that either of you have ever complained.

—-

Taggin 🥺🩷 @reverie-starlight @wolffmaiden @thoreeo @aliensknowmyillusions @tutuwusworld @lavishcherie @sassycheesecake @cheolattes @rrairey @dira333 @unknownspecies

how guilty my baby gumi must feel

mentor

tbh I don't really like miyo's persona; I get that she was abused in her home and grew up in a very submissive state. but that's exactly what I don't like! why would she bow down to them, why didn't she fight back(doesn't matter if she doesn't have the gifts). THATS JUST MY OPINION, DON'T COME FOR ME!

but I do like the anime, it's very pretty to watch. I do feel bad for miyo but im happy that she's found happiness in her marriage with kiyoka.

🌸 My Happy Marriage illustrations by Tsukiho Tsukioka 🌸

🩷

I love Emi so much

the demon king i want

Pairing: Muzan x f!reader

Content: Your lover, the King of Demons gives you one last day in the sun before bringing you into his world of shadows for eternity. NSFW. penetrative sex, biting, blood, Muzan feeds from you. Yearning, longing, hopelessly besotted Muzan. Violence against a snail. Approx 1.8k words.

Ipomoea Alba

Muzan had already forgotten her name. She was a member of the fading nobility, elderly, desperately lonely, and all too susceptible to his smile. It had been far too easy to influence her, to convince her to denounce her descendants and leave her estate and its grounds to him.

The putrid taste of her blood and flesh lingered on the demon king's tongue, even as her name faded from his memory. Her face was little more than a blurred, grotesque caricature amongst a never ending haze of screaming visages.

And yet, he could recall the name of every flower in her garden. Frilly pink camellias, and vibrant blue morning glories which he had defiantly pried apart to witness their hue. Yellow roses, red lilies, carnations, primulas, apricots with their delicate pale petals. The garden was a paradise. 

And it was all for you. Yours for a single day. 

For what better place was there for his beloved to bid farewell to the sun? 

He watched you through the upstairs window, tucked away in the shadows, eyes narrowed against the agonizing glare. Seething and yearning in equal measure; furious at the world's audacity in denying him the light, for denying him you even if only for a few hours. 

He hadn't quite decided yet if he would keep you human a while longer. The temptation was most certainly there. You were soft and delicate; your mortal fragility delighted and disgusted him in equal measure. Change sickened him, and every day he saw it in you; blemishes caused by the sun, by the chemistry of your body, your mood, your dietary habits, your life. And every day your beauty somehow won out over repulsion. 

Muzan adored you, treasured you, loved you. You belonged to him, and he, against all sense and reason, belonged to you. 

And so it was agreed upon between you that he would bring you to the shadows, to reside with him in the Infinity Fortress. One way or another, you would dwell in darkness, never to leave his side.

Your only request had been one last day in the sun, a plea he saw no reason in denying. 

But as he watched you in the garden, separated from you by the confines of the house, his fists curled into white-peaked fists. The pointed tips of his fingernails drew blood from his palms as you turned your face to the blinding light, eyes closed, smile soft and content, as if receiving the kiss of a doting lover. The flowers he’d admired and sought for you brushed against your delighted form, petals caressing your tender skin with a gentleness he could never hope to replicate. 

And when you’d finished exploring your own personal paradise, you lay back on a gray stone bench and basked in the warmth. Muzan cursed the light then; it was everywhere on you; shimmering in your hair, darkening your skin, flushing your cheeks, altering the very chemistry of your body.

His rage shattered the looking glass propped in the corner, splintered the wood on the priceless antique vanity, and tore the curtains to tatters. He remained transfixed, unmoving, as the room disintegrated around him, the air palpitating with his jealousy. 

Oh how he despised it. That he could not join you in the sun. That you luxuriated in what he could not. Memories from a life centuries ago stung like papercuts pried apart and salted. Pathetically confined. Weak. Afraid to die. Repulsive. He had no sympathy for the boy he’d once been. No, only detestation. 

The moment the sun set Muzan broke free from his homely prison, filling his lungs with the cooling night air. Air as sweet as honey. Many of the blooms had closed for the night, shrinking from him as he passed them by and spitefully plucked them from their stems before tossing them to the dirt. If they saw fit to deny him their brilliance then they would perish. The king of demons would not be denied. 

And then he reached you, still slumbering on your bed of stone. Beautiful, foolish creature that you were, you’d slept through your final sunset. A tiny yellow-shelled snail made its slow path toward you, leaving a glittering trail of silver in its wake. Curling his lip, Muzan sat by your side, flicking the little pest away so hard it disintegrated mid-air. 

An ache bloomed inside his chest as he gazed down at you in your peaceful faux death. So lovely, so hauntingly fleeting. Instead of sickening him, your slow decay fascinated him, beautiful as the picked-clean skull of a deer. Sickness ran rampant, unbeknownst to you; some of it your body fought, some which would, in time, win and consume you. Unless…

Unless he made you a demon too. Goodness, the notion was tempting; to preserve you in a form more perfect than mortality could ever grant you. But then, he wondered, would you be you? Was it not your flawed self he adored? The creases, blemishes, your ridiculous little heart. A heart which would someday fail. 

Muzan cursed the world, because either way he would lose you. 

No… no it wasn’t the world he cursed, but the ridiculous notion of love. He should have been wholly immune to it, but you had bewitched him beyond sense or reason. You moved him in a way he had never thought possible. 

“Do you plan to sleep all night?” he asked gently, his voice rendering the chittering insects in the trees completely silent. A tender brush of his lips against your brow roused you from your slumber enough that you smiled, half-conscious, seeking the touch of his hand. Such fragile little bones, so trusting, your fingers interlaced with his as you drew a full breath and stretched luxuriously beneath him. 

“Muzan…” 

Coming from every other pair of mortal lips, his name was a curse. But not from you. You uttered it with such affection, the sound warm and lovely as it danced on your tongue. 

“You slept through the sunset, my love,” he said, tracing the peaks of your knuckles with the tip of his thumb. 

“I don’t mind.”

“No?” he said, pleasantly surprised. He’d half expected you to beg for another day.

“No,” you replied, sitting to kiss him, your lips so soft and tender, so very warm. “No sunset in the world could compare to spending my nights with you.”

A shiver ran down his spine as you threaded your fingers through his raven curls, pulling him closer to your body. And there was nothing he could do but yield to your unspoken wish. He was as helpless in your arms as any mortal man, so besotted that for a moment he quite forgot his nature. Even his intrinsic sense of self preservation dwindled to nothing as he  melted into your kiss, unaware at first that the soft, low moans filling his ears were coming from himself.

“You missed me,” you said, an unmistakable and endearing hint of affectionate teasing lacing your tone.

Muzan nodded, resting his brow against yours. “I’ve watched you all day, confined to the house when I should have been by your side.”

“I know. I could feel your eyes on me. It’s like knowing there’s a tiger stalking through the grass beside me. Lovely as you are, you make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.”

“Flatterer.” Oh how he adored you. With you he never had to alter his preferred appearance. You didn’t shy away from his fangs or his slitted pupils, you never shuddered when he talked about consuming human flesh. You were simply remarkable amongst your kind, beyond tolerable, and there was nothing for him to do but steal you away and keep you for himself. 

Your thighs wrapped so comfortingly around his hips, the heat of your core pulsing against him as he freed his cock from the confines of his trousers and slid into you with a guttural moan. Fuck, the way you squeezed him, the way your cunt twitched as he suckled on your breast through the fabric of your dress. 

“We’ll walk in the sun together again,” you whispered against his ear as he pumped his hips desperately against you. 

“You and I for eternity,” he promised, wrapping his arms around your waist, keeping your back arched as your head lolled back against the gray stone.

A cry somewhere between agony and ecstasy burst from you at the sharp pain of his teeth penetrating the flesh of your breast, followed by your wanton groan which mingled with his. Your blood flowed over his tongue as your fingers came to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer to you, tugging the curls at the back of his neck. And the knowledge that no one else in the world shared such intimacy willingly was not lost on him. 

You fed him gladly, welcoming the sting of his teeth, lost in bliss as he lapped at the shallow wound and toyed with your clit. His eyes shone crimson as he watched your rapture, captivated by your quickening breath, the pinch in your brow, the way your lips hung slack around your moans of pleasure. Your blood was ambrosia, the way you uttered his name divine. In centuries of living he had never found any evidence of gods until he found you. 

Your orgasm triggered his own, his muscles fluttering and pulsing as he came undone, groaning against your breast, his sterile spend flooding your cunt as your blood flowed between his lips in perfect synchronicity.

And when his pleasure subsided, he released you. Crimson stained the silk of your gown as he pulled back, your eyes half-closed and your smile so utterly heartwarming, for a moment he quite forgot he was a monster. 

“A fitting goodbye to mortality?” he asked. 

You simply nodded, too spent to speak. 

Too lovely to kill. Far too lovely to condemn to shadows. Muzan found himself shaking his head, “Of all the terrible things I’ve done and will do, taking you away from the sun, away from the flowers, may be the one thing which weighs on my conscience.”

His words sobered you instantly, and you sat up, tender hands holding his face as he avoided your pleading gaze. 

“Look up,” you told him. And he did.

On the trellis above you, white flowers bloomed, round and bright, radiant by the light of the moon. As delicate and lovely as any blossom whose petals unfurled by day. 

“Ipomoea Alba,” he said. “They’re called moonflowers.”

“And they only open up at night. They were closed all day, hiding from the sun, and now they’re open just for us.” The gentle caress of your hand against his cheek soothed his restless soul, the brush of your lips against his brow quelled his busy mind. “I’m ready. And I want it.”

And Muzan could never deny you. 

how adorable.

when the world sleeps | the intimacy

Astarion Ancunin x Reader

Summary: Small tales of private and precious moments shared with Astarion, when the world still sleeps.

Today's tale: Astarion spends his first night with you after confessing his real feelings.

A/N: A collection of little stories that will be released sporadically, in no particular order. A place for me to store all the sweet little ideas that lurk in my mind about this darling pale elf. Feel free to send requests for any moments you'd like to see. <3

Masterlist

It felt like burning, the addictive kind of burn. Your hands on his skin, fingertips tracing delicate patterns, one thumb pressing against his lower lip right before you leaned down to kiss him all sweet and warm.

His hands held your hips in turn, keeping you as close as humanly possible; guiding your movements even if he was as lost in you as you were on him.

A low groan escaped Astarion when your nails gently scratched the nape of his neck and you leaned in further to brush your lips just under his ear. He nuzzled against your neck, breathing in deeply even if he didn't need to; as though he found his pleasure simply by touching your skin and feeling your perfume, like that alone was enough to send him freefalling into bliss.

It was the first night you'd spent together after Astarion confessed the truthfulness of his feelings for you. And you had asked, again and again, if it was something he truly wanted, gentle words whispered in between desperate kisses. And again and again, he'd promised, pleaded even, that there was nothing he desired more.

You loved on him in that way only you were capable of. Slow, reverently, soft. Bringing with you only tenderness and care. Even in the most sensual of moments, when he was deep within you and his name was nothing but a breathy moan past your lips, never once did you look at him as if he was nothing but an object for pleasure; never once did you fail to caress his body as if he was a part of your very soul.

The usual feelings of loathing and disgust that plagued his mind during moments like these were nowhere to be seen. And now that Astarion thinks of it, they were never a thing with you anyway.

You'd always been gentle with him. Part of him wonders if somehow you knew, even before he ever told you. Maybe your soul did, maybe you were never strangers. Maybe your hands were the ones meant to hold his heart all along.

As they do now.

It still felt new, foreign; that you'd bask in his company after both your bodies were spent and sated, that simply being by his side sometimes seemed to fulfill you more than sex ever could.

Astarion held your hand as you two lay quietly, fingers tangling with yours, and he shivered with the thought. With the feeling of being loved at last.

The hours went deep into the night already, with the only sound being the heavy raindrops hitting the windows of Elfsong Tavern. It certainly was a nice change of pace to have a roof over your heads and private rooms after camping in the wild for so long.

It was dark, the sky outside adorned heavy clouds and no moonlight in sight, yet Astarion could see the outlines of your profile almost perfectly. You lay on your side, facing him as your hand rested atop his chest; he ran his thumb over the skin, feeling his lips twitch with the many words tangled in his throat that he still wished to tell you.

For someone who prided himself on having a silver tongue, he was left rather speechless by the mere weight of your gaze.

You deserved more, he couldn't help but think. More than the broken shell of a man that was him. When would you realize that?

Astarion dreaded the thought. He'd grown so very attached.

A feather-light kiss landed on his shoulder then, bringing his mind back to the precious moment before it could spiral into something unpleasant. Your lips brushed the bare skin there in a loving touch, your hand on his chest tightening its hold.

Astarion complied gladly with a sound falling past his lips that resembled a cat purring. He turned around so his back would face you, still holding onto your hand and keeping it close to his heart, quietly asking that you'd never let him go.

You, in turn, nuzzled closer, hugging him even tighter and peppering small pecks across his shoulders and the nape of his neck.

With each press of your lips, a shiver ran up and down Astarion's back; his grip on your hand increased just slightly as he brought it to his lips, returning the favor on each of your knuckles.

The night has a strange way of bringing out the most raw of feelings. Astarion felt it in the way he lay bare before you, body and soul, with his eyes pooling with tears because he couldn't remember the last time someone touched him with such kindness and care.

When your lips ghosted over the top of his scars on his back, he tensed. It was muscle memory to expect pain. But it never came. The kiss you pressed over the marks was longer, it lingered like the smell of fresh rain coming from outside; a promise, a confession perhaps. Astarion felt it in his heart, and a single tear fell past the bridge of his nose and landed on the pillow.

There was a beat of silence, and the elf couldn't hold himself back anymore. Because you were so close and yet not close enough. He turned around quite hastily, eliciting a soft surprised gasp from you before both his arms closed around your waist and pulled you in.

He buried his nose on your neck, curling himself around you like a cat would. If you asked about it in the morning, he'd deny, say you were delusional or dreaming of him again. But right now, pride be damned.

A shaky exhale stumbled past his mouth, eyes pressed close as he committed to memory how it felt to have his soul this tangled with yours.

You were quiet. And Astarion worried his lonely heart had made him for a fool.

But then your fingers steadily buried in between his unruly strands of hair, your lips finding his temple. So much was said, and not a single word was spoken.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Astarion’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us @asterordinary

i have classes tmrw and I'm on my bed reading gojo fics like usual and then.....fuck you SO HARD Gege.....you can't do this to us......how dare you!

how am i supposed to go to college tomorrow after hearing this shit?! i need to mourn my baby, my love.....he deserved the whole world and more, and we don't deserve anyone like satoru

gege.....if you have a plan......now would be really good time to spill.....cuz i can't....

It was nice while it lasted

My (now ex) best friend just ended our four year friendship, said she didn't see any future in it because we weren't chatting as much as we used to. She was my best friend, but i wasn't hers. I probably haven't been for a while. My birthday is this sunday and I wished she hadn't done this just two days before my birthday. I need comfort, so here is a short Logan drabble♡

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant!reader

Wordcount: 1k-ish, maybe a bit less

Warnings: english isn't my first language, none, just fluff, and a bit angst, friends to lovers, implied chubby reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You sniffled quietly as you looked down at your bright phone screen. I'd like to break off contact. You read it over and over again. You had hoped you would never have to see these words, not with her. You were so stupid to think that your friendship would get repaired somehow.

You lived at the x men mansion, she lived far away in another city. So meeting each other was rare. The first time you met, she slept over in the mansion. Everyone liked her and you both had a great time. You would have done everything to get that back, that time, these moments when everything seemed like it was just how it was supposed to be.

After she finally found a job after searching for months, everything changed. She didn't answer your texts anymore, only if you were lucky. You tried to reach for her, tried to talk to her. But her replies were sparse and often dry. Said it was because she didn't know how to answer your texts and that she was so tired every day from work.

You tried to be understanding, tried to reassure her that it was alright. But when you saw pics of another girl on her instagram and later some random guy that turned out to be her new boyfriend, you felt it. That ache. You weren't her best friend any more. She could easily live without you. You were the only one suffering. You needed her, but she didn't need you.

You sat on your bed, wiping your tears. Why were you so damn stupid, you should have seen it coming. You were no ones favourite, you never have been. You weren't the number one for anybody, no one would chose you in a room full of people. You knew that, and that hurt.

Suddenly, the door to your room opened. It was Logan, he had a plate loaded with your favourite food in hand. He wasn't looking at you yet. "I got you some food, bub. Why weren't you down for dinner-" he started to ask but as he lifted his head and saw your tear stained face, his brows knitted together on his handsome face and he strided over to you with purpose, putting the plate on your beside table. "What's going on, bub?" He asked in the softest voice he could muster.

Your voice was hoarse and you just couldn't get a word out. He climbed into bed with you, sitting next to you and wrapping one arm around your shoulder to pull you against his side, his head on top of yours as he let you cry and shake in his arms. He wore that grey oversized sweater with nothing underneath. The fabric was so soft under your cheek. And so warm, smelling like him. You shoved your unrequited feelings aside, trying to calm your racing heart as he hugged you.

As Logan let you sob, his gaze shifted to your phone that laid abandoned on the sheets. I'd like to break off contact. He read the name over the chat and it dawned on him. He didn't need more information to know exactly what happened. You had always talked about your best friend and he had even met her one time. She was decent back then, but you would always come to him to vent when your best friend did something that hurt you. He had always told you to drop her, that she wasn't good for you, that you had so many friends and people that actually loved you around you every day. With people he meant himself. He loved you so much but never spoke up.

There was a time where he thought you and your best friend were together. Back then you'd get that question a lot because you were just that close. He was a bit salty about it and secretly hoped you would break up. When he found out you weren't actually together, he was awfully happy about it, a kick in his step.

As bad as it sounded, he was glad that the horror was finally over. He had witnessed your mental health worsen every time you beat yourself up over your best friend. He was frustrated when you blamed everything on yourself and wouldn’t see how bad she was for you. Still, he understood your tears. There had been a time where she really was your best friend and you loved her, you could tell her anything back then. And that was the version of her that you missed, the version you still held onto.

"I know this sounds rough, but you are better off without her" he mumbled against your temple, planting an experimental kiss there. As you didn't back away, he saw it as an invitation to leave his lips pressed against the side of your head. You hiccuped, nuzzling even further into him. "Why...why does it always happen to me? Why can't I keep friends, why do I always get so attached when I am worth nothing for the other person?" you questioned, voice thick from the tears. "All I want is to be loved by someone just as much as I love them" you muttered, swallowing the lump in your throat, but it didn't seem to budge.

He loved you. He loved you like you loved him. He did, so badly. But both of you didn't know. And it was eating you up inside.

You pulled back to look into his eyes "Am I unloveable, Logan? Don't lie to make me feel better" you asked him. You always told you that you couldn't be loved. But slowly you really started to believe it. I mean, who could possibly love someone like you? You were chubby, pretty introverted and didn't dress like the average. You had been bullied all your life for your looks, your personality and your mutation. The fat funny friend is who you were, the one that got asked out as a joke and was told, that they couldn't imagine you in a relationship. It was something you never truly learned to live with. You tried to hold onto the illusion that was love, hoped that one day it would find you like in the sappy romance movies you watched. You doubted it.

Your question hit Logan like a ton of bricks. "Unloveable? Are you even hearing yourself?" He asked and you had never seen him this shocked. You couldn't understand why. You had expected him to agree with you, allthough you never wanted to hear that from him.

Ever so gently, he held your soft face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his strong thumb. "You are the most easiest person to love, trust me on that"

Unbelieving, you shook your head. "I said don't lie-" you started but he shushed you quickly, your head secure in his grip as he forced you to look at him. "Look into my eyes and tell me that I am lying. Come on. Say it" he urged you on, his gaze intense and burning that it took your breath away, silencing any words you might have had. Even though you didn't correct him, he knew you weren't believing him.

He sighed, it would take a while to get all these insecurities out of your head. And your heart. But you were worth that effort.

"Let me show you just how much I love you" he mumbled before your heart threatened to jump out of your chest as his lips landed on yours. It was everything you had ever hoped it would be and you could almost not believe that this was real, that you weren't dreaming.

Pulling away, more tears spilled over your cheeks and Logan panicked. "Oh- shit, I'm sorry, that wasn't right of me" he coughed, his neck burning red in embarrassement. He was taking advantage of you, wasn’t he?

But before he could slide off your bed, you pulled at his sleeve. "No, no, it was alright. You couldn't have reacted any better" you giggled through your tears. His breath hitched as you zipped down his hoodie to snuggle against his warm, bare chest. You could feel his heartbeat quicken underneath your ear, though Logan quickly eased against the contact.

He zipped his hoodie back up behind you, keeping you close to him as you cuddled and kissed on your bed with this newfound information of you both having pinned for each other for years. You felt warm and safe and for the first time in a while, you felt like everything would be okay.

As long as he was with you.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

This was painful to write and incredibly personal in some aspects. I know that this probably won't gain as much attention because of that, as it may not be relatable for most.

But still, if you are going through something similiar, you aren't alone. There are many people that struggle, that feel this way about themselves. And while knowing that this doesn't really sooth the ache, it will get better. One day. I hope.

𝓭ay 𝓸ne.

logan howlett + nightmare.

logan’s breathing is ragged, chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon, but it’s not the exertion that’s got him trembling. you wake to the sound of his sharp gasps, the way his body jerks beside you in bed. without thinking, you reach out, your hand finding his arm, but he flinches away, eyes snapping open and staring like he’s still fighting his way out of the dark.

"logan," you whisper, keeping your voice as gentle as you can, "hey, it’s okay. it was just a nightmare." you scoot closer, your fingers brushing against his hand, letting him know you’re there without crowding him. "you’re safe. i’m right here."

it takes a second, but his gaze shifts to you, like he’s finally registering where he is, who’s with him. there’s something raw in his eyes, a look you’ve seen before, when his past comes creeping into the night to tear him away from the present. his breath shudders out, and you feel the slight tremor in his muscles as you take his hand in yours.

he’s quiet, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to lock away whatever fear is still rattling in his chest. you shift a little closer, sliding your arm around him, pulling him against you. “you don’t have to say anything,” you murmur, your lips just brushing his ear as you tuck your head against his shoulder. “just breathe, okay? you’re here with me.”

logan’s arms wrap around you like he’s anchoring himself to the feeling of your warmth, your voice, the way your fingers comb softly through his hair. he’s still trembling, but it’s less intense now, his grip on you tightening for a second before loosening, like he’s afraid of holding on too hard.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you continue, your voice low and steady, the kind of tone you’d use to soothe a hurt child or a scared animal. “you’re safe here. whatever it was, it can’t hurt you now.”

he lets out a shaky breath, his head dipping down until his forehead rests against your shoulder. the tension in his body slowly starts to unwind, his breaths coming steadier, less ragged. you can feel him sinking against you, like the weight of everything is finally slipping away, just for a moment.

"you’re alright, logan," you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. "i’ve got you."

his voice is rough, almost inaudible, when he speaks. “couldn’t stop it,” he mumbles, and there’s a hollow edge to his words, the kind that comes from too many battles fought and lost in the dark.

you rub your hand in slow circles over his back, grounding him in the quiet of the room, the softness of the sheets, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. “you don’t have to fight it alone,” you say, letting the truth of it fill the silence. “i’m right here with you.”

logan shifts, his grip on you tightening again, but this time it’s less out of fear and more like he’s trying to absorb the comfort you’re offering. he draws in a deep breath, and the tremor in his muscles fades a little more. “just stay,” he whispers, like it’s a plea and a promise all at once.

“always,” you reply, wrapping yourself around him a little more snugly. you feel him relax further, his breathing finally evening out, the last of the nightmare’s grip slowly releasing. your fingers trace soothing patterns over his skin, and you continue whispering soft reassurances, even after his eyes flutter closed again.

logan’s hold on you doesn’t loosen as he drifts off, his arms still wrapped around you like you’re his lifeline. even in sleep, he stays close, his body pressing into yours, finding solace in the warmth of your embrace. and you don’t let go, not even when you’re sure he’s fallen back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

general taglist : @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @k1t-k4ts, @icurushasfallen, @eddxemxnson, @nickiinator

@chamomile-tea420, @rooroen, @spitfy, @cannon-writes, @platinumblondeedition

@cloudcandyala, @v3lv3tf0x, @california-boys-and-sun, @harleyyquinnsgf, @lemoanaid

@notacleangirl, @jabberwokee, @aetherthetrashpanda, @schrodingersjigsaw, @sylaswrites

@t0mmy-th3-gh0st, @correnz, @fvhs-things, @kallmeweirdhprroe, @dugiioh

@thugbiscuits, @rosiahills22, @cassehtwah, @whxtewolf, @mystcrium,

@bluevclvet, @angellreads, @babey-fruit-bat