#I'm sure he'd come to your room if you asked

[kirain]

Just a little Emmrich fic based on @timethehobo's beautiful art here. Had me feeling angsty. 😅

Vae pushed open the heavy oak door to Emmrich's study, the hinges creaking slightly in protest. The room was as she expected: cluttered yet strangely orderly, filled with the faint scent of parchment and pipe smoke. Shelves packed with ancient tomes, scrolls, and artifacts lined the walls, and to the right of it all stood his desk, a chaotic mosaic of notes, quills, and half-finished experiments.

"Emmrich?" She glanced around but found no sign of him. "He must have stepped out."

The old book in her hands felt heavy as she crossed the room and carefully placed it on the desk, smoothing her fingers over its cracked leather binding. It had caught her eye in Dock Town, and she immediately remembered Emmrich's passing mention of wanting to read it.

Satisfied, she turned to leave, but a sudden, eerie green light flared behind her.

"Well, well," a snide, feminine voice drawled, its tone dripping with venom. "If it isn't Volkarin's little paramour."

Vae froze, a feeling of nausea churning in her gut. Slowly, she turned back to face Johanna's skull. The cursed object sat atop its ornate pedestal, its hollow eye sockets somehow teeming with malice.

"Hezenkoss," Vae said flatly, unwilling to give her any more attention than necessary.

"How cold," The skull cackled, the sound sharp and grating. "I was just starting to enjoy the quiet, then in comes the professor's pet. What did you bring him, hmm? Chocolates? Cheese? Some other fatuous notion of romance?"

Ignoring her jab, Vae headed for the door. "Just a book he wanted. Goodbye, Hezenkoss."

"How amusing. I can assure you, he's already read it," she scoffed. "That absentminded fool could never keep track of what he's consumed. He'd open a book, read the first page, then suddenly realise he'd read it years ago."

Vae paused, her hand lingering over the door knob. Against her better judgement, she sighed and walked to the desk, leaning against it and facing the skull.

"What was he like when he was younger?" she asked.

There was a brief silence, as if Hezenkoss hadn't expected the question. Then, her voice took on a grudging edge. "An idealist. A bleeding heart. A coward."

Vae frowned. "You were friends for years. You must have admired something about him."

"His intelligence," the half-lich admitted, begrudgingly. "And his magical prowess, but that's all. Both became the reason I despise him—he never utilized either one, wasting his potential. We could have ruled Nevarra, brought every neighbouring kingdom to their knees, but he preferred to play nanny to wayward spirits and shortsighted students. Pah!"

Vae's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you. You don't stay friends with someone for decades without seeing something worthwhile in them."

"As I just said. He was a useful duck to bounce ideas off of, but he never did appreciate my vision."

"Your vision?" Vae crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. "Your vision killed innocent people. Turned spirits into abominations."

"Sacrifices are necessary to achieve greatness," she spat. "I'm no hypocrite. As you can see, I made the ultimate sacrifice. Volkarin will do the same, should he pursue lichdom."

"It's different if it's yourself," Vae argued. "But not when you force it on others. That's not a 'sacrifice', it's just murder."

"No difference, same outcome."

Vae flinched, disgust welling in her eyes. "I can't imagine Emmrich ever being friends with someone like you," she said, her tone ruthless. "Which means, at some point, you must've changed. I just can't help but wonder if it was before you became a lich or after."

"Lichdom doesn't change anyone's personality, morals, or thoughts. I'm the same person I always was," she asserted. "If you want the truth, the old man's too trusting. Too softhearted. He wants to befriend everyone, even if it means adjusting his own interests to suit their needs. I'm sure you've seen it."

Vae swallowed, thinking back to all the times Emmrich went out of his way to ensure his colleagues' comfort at the cost of his own. Hiding his skulls, refraining from discussing necromancy in front of Taash, choking down one of Harding's ham sandwiches, afraid he'd insult her if he didn't try it—and then all the times he fussed over Vae herself.

"He's kind," she countered, though she knew it was sometimes to a fault. "He said you were, too. Once."

"Pah! You mistake kindness for naivety. I was young, with no concept of reality." She groaned, as if cursing her former self. "I grew out of that. Volkarin didn't. Beneath his grey hair and wrinkled skin, he's still a child at heart, always seeing individuals over the collective."

Vae shook her head. "Do you feel any guilt at all for what you've done to him?"

The skull chuckled, a bitter, humourless sound. "Guilt? For what? He impeded my plans. I did nothing to him."

"You had him on a hit list."

"Yes, because I knew that bleeding heart would never stand for my glorious uprising. Better to crush him, and that ridiculous pile of bones he drags around, than risk his interference. It wasn't personal, you see? Just collateral."

Vae's jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists. "You have no idea how lucky you are to have that 'bleeding heart' in your life. The rest of the Mourn Watch wanted to seal your skull in a tomb, alone, for eternity. But he fought to become your caretaker, because he couldn't stand the thought of you rotting in solitude. Even after everything, he pitied you."

Silence fell over the study, save for the faint crackle of energy within the skull. Hezenkoss said nothing, but her glow dimmed slightly.

Vae huffed and rose to her feet. "He's taking your betrayal harder than he lets on. You should be grateful for his kindness."

The half-lich grumbled, a note of frustration in her voice. "I was never loyal to him. There was no betrayal.”

"Yes, there was," Vae's temper flared. "You could always go to him, always talk to him. You were friends. He cherished that, cherished you, but you threw it all away—and for what? A broken existence? Eternal imprisonment? Loss of all feeling? You'll never be able to walk again, smell again, enjoy someone's touch on your skin. You had it all, but now it's gone. Was it worth it?"

For a long while, Hezenkoss said nothing, Vae's eyes boring into her sockets. Then, with a soft, almost incredulous hiss, she said, "I will escape."

"Maybe," Vae nodded. "But if you do, know this: I will never let you hurt him again."

Hezenkoss' laughter rang out as Vae moved towards the door. "You won't have to worry about that, darling. The decrepit old fool probably only has a few years left anyway!"

Vae tensed but didn't look back. Gritting her teeth, she wrenched the door open—and froze. Emmrich stood in the hallway, his expression a mixture of shock and pain, the weight of the overheard conversation hanging heavy in the air.

"Emmrich," Vae whispered, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind her. "How long have you been—?"

"We were friends once," he whimpered, his eyes drifting to the floor, "...weren't we?"

Vae reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. He was so hurt, and it killed her to see. Without another word, she pulled him into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around him. Almost immediately he melted in her embrace, burying his face in her shoulder, his hands trembling.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

He didn't respond, but the way he clung to her spoke volumes.

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 9

Bonus panels for some extra backstory.

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

That night, the swordsman makes a last minute decision to rectify things with the blonde. He figured that there's no point in delaying as this might be the only chance they get to talk one-on-one before they get stuck in Skypiea with Law for however long they need to be up there. Since his cocktail-making skills are apparently subpar at best, he thought he'd turn to doing something else that he hopes Sanji would like before he pops the question–about the name, he reminds himself. Whatever it is, it will need to be something incredible to make up for the shame of not knowing something so simple about the man after all the years they’ve known together.

He thinks about quickly jumping off to collect some flowers in Jaya’s South Grove, but he is met by Jean Bart who drags his sorry feet back inside. The large man assigned himself on “Zoro duty”, not wanting the Warlord to get lost the night before he needed to depart with their captain. Apparently they had pissed him off enough already that day.

Zoro turns to the kitchen to try and find Sanji's favourite snacks, and maybe sneak away with a couple bottles of wine to help set the mood. Unfortunately he bumped into Hakugan and Uni who are guarding the door, ready to strike him down should he set foot inside the room. They give him a powerful performance of their martial arts prowess as a gentle reminder that he's banned from the place, warning him that they’re not afraid to put their lives on the line to enforce Law’s rules. When he tried to ask for their assistance to go and fetch what he needed, they both turned him away, thinking that he's just trying to distract them so he can do whatever evil thing he apparently was set out to do.

His last option was the library. He’s not much of a reader but he figured he would try because he knew of Sanji’s love for knowledge and books. He wants to read a story or two with him to see if that’s something they would enjoy doing together. Sadly, when he arrives, he is met by the Grand Line’s most impatient doctor who is currently studying the Skypiea map with Bepo at the polar bear’s drafting table, trying to come up with a plan of action for when they get there in the morning. Not wanting to be distracted or have the library wrecked the way Zoro did with the kitchen, Law used his Room ability to teleport him out of there before he could even get a chance to grab something off the shelves.

Having no other options left, Zoro resorts to the idea of giving the blonde mind-blowing sex. He would worship him like the king he is and he would do it all night if the other man demanded it so. The swordsman figured it's probably the safest bet anyway while they’re in the early honeymoon phase of their relationship. Sanji is highly skilled in that area for a very good reason.

He makes his way to their bunkroom. Under the door, he sees that the dim light of the desk lamp is still on. Finally, things are looking up. He thinks to himself that now’s the perfect chance to make a move while Sanji is probably still up reading at this hour as usual.

Until he hears a couple of familiar voices on the other side of the door. They were muffled, but their identities were clear.

Sanji

…Are you sure that you're okay? I don't know how effective it is with the front broken like that.

Niji

Dunno. It's like…having mood swings. The sensation goes in and out. It's a bit weird.

Sanji

I need you to get it fixed first then. And while you're at it, drop off the new stones at the lab.

I'm not sending you in until you're all good.

Niji

I can still fight.

Sanji

I'm not letting you take the risk until your helmet’s fixed, Niji. That's my final word. You’re on your own with this next mission and I need you to be able to make good calls.

Another pang of guilt hits the swordsman–for not being careful enough and wrecking the commander’s helmet, and for eavesdropping for as long as he has so far. He starts walking backwards, and was about to turn his heel and move somewhere else to give them privacy when Sanji’s voice pierced through the door.

Sanji

Hey, Mosshead! Don't be a creep and get in here.

Zoro flinches, and silently curses the blonde’s mastery of his observation haki. He doesn't want to make things look worse than it already is so he opens the door awkwardly. He's met by two pairs of eyes.

Sanji is leaning with his palms against the desk while Niji is sitting on the chair, fiddling with the blonde's claw gauntlet on the table. It looks like there's two now. From afar, Zoro could tell that their blades are longer, sharper and more dangerous than the last. The metallic scale armour that covered the glove is a new addition, having only just durable leather holding everything together before.

Niji

Spying on us, are we?

Zoro grits his teeth, throwing the blue-haired man an annoyed look.

Sanji

This is also his room, Commander.

Niji tuts disapprovingly then resumes his work on the claw gauntlet.

Zoro

I didn't want to interrupt. I’ll just head out for some fresh air.

Sanji

You didn't interrupt anything. The commander was just showing me his handiwork. He’ll be done soon! I just needed a couple of fitting adjustments done and we’re all set.

Niji

Hmm… no. Now that I think about it, this will take a bit longer than I thought. 

Sanji

What? But you said–

Niji

Whoops.

As if done on purpose, a buckle disassembles itself in Niji’s hands. Little bits of metal scatter on the desk.

Sanji

You’re such an ass. Fine. Stay here, hog the room. I don’t care. Let’s go, Marimo.

Niji

No, I need you to stay here so we can refit it. Because the buckle’s broken now.

Sanji

You broke it!

Niji

And I need to fix it but I can only do that if you’re here. So, stay.

Sanji

I will actually pluck your eyeballs out one of these days, Commander.

Sanji stomps out the door, grabbing Zoro’s arm along the way.

Niji

Where are you going? We need to get this done tonight before you head off first thing!

Sanji

I’ll be back!

Zoro and Sanji walk arm-in-arm quietly to the deck of the ship. They were met by Jean Bart who was about to tell off Zoro for being outside, but the blonde reassured the large man that he has eyes on him, promising to keep the grumbling swordsman out of trouble. Happy with the response, the Heart Pirate retires inside for the night.

Zoro

Isn’t the whole point of me being here is to keep an eye on you?

Sanji chuckled heartily–music to the swordsman’s ears.

Sanji

I know. What the hell happened to us?

They proceeded to the bow of the ship and settled themselves against the railing. It was quiet and serene. The crescent moon is up, revealing the dark silhouette of Jaya island on the horizon. Above, stars shone brightly across the span of the night sky–its reflections twinkled playfully on the still waters of the ocean below.

Sanji

You’re awfully quiet.

Zoro tears his gaze away from the scene. He looks next to him where the blonde has a hand wrapped around his arm and finishing a cigarette with the other.

Sanji

You usually are, but your silence is…louder somehow.

The swordsman rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Suddenly he’s not so sure what to say and how he’d ask the big question. He wanted to get this far tonight–tried many times to set up the scene better but to no avail. He also didn’t realise how he would feel right in the thick of things.

Zoro

There’s been a lot in my mind. Sorry.

Sanji

Never apologise for that…but whatever it is, I could tell that it’s eating you up.

Zoro sighs and returns his gaze to the island on the horizon.

Sanji

Is this because you had a fight with my brother?

Zoro’s eyebrows shoot up.

Zoro

Did he–?

Sanji

He didn’t have to. His helmet's busted and don’t think I haven’t noticed your little injury on your forehead, damn Mosshead. If you don’t take care of your head, how will you be able to photosynthesize?

Zoro scowls at the mockery.

Sanji laughs lightly, kissing the swordsman on the cheek as a way of reassuring him that it’s just a joke. After noticing that his attempt to release the tension didn’t work, he speaks in a slightly more serious tone.

Sanji

Did he try to scare you away? Is that why you’ve been avoiding me all night?

Zoro shakes his head.

Sanji

Don’t freak out or anything but… you’re not the first that he’s done that to. I can tell him to back off if you want.

Zoro

No… it’ll take a lot more than that to get me to leave your side, Curls.

The blonde’s expression softens.

Zoro

Though, I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was trying to avoid you. I spent hours… ages… trying to plan this whole thing for us tonight but I feel like whatever I do…

The swordsman gets flashbacks of all the times he’d slashed and stabbed the man. He remembers cursing his way repeatedly for attempting to propose to him for the umpteenth time. He recalls their first kiss–how the first thing that came out of his mouth was to tell him to not kill the Celestial Dragon, and because of that, it nearly cost him his life. In fact, he might have permanently if not for their skillful doctor. He remembers the way the blonde held onto the liberated family from Sabaody. How, even in his critical condition, he fought from fully succumbing into sleep just to make sure that everyone was okay as they fled from the Pacifistas. 

And now, with a seemingly easy task of organising a romantic night, the swordsman can’t even do such a simple thing for him.

Zoro clenches his fists against the wooden railing.

Zoro

I can’t seem to do anything right by you…. I just feel like everything that I do is not good enough–or just flat out hurts you. And right now, I have nothing but myself to offer. For whatever that's worth.

Sanji

Zoro…

Zoro shifts so he’s looking at Sanji face to face then holds both of his hands in his, making the other man drop his cigarette. The determined fiery look in his eye makes the blonde jump in surprise.

Zoro

Curls, I want to get to know you better.

Sanji

Uh–sure!

Zoro

What’s your favourite food?

Sanji

Uhm… let’s see…

Zoro

If you had all the money in the world, where would you go?

Sanji

Oh Mellorine, I do have all the mon–

Zoro

How long does it take to get there?

Is that where you want to go for our first date?

Is shopping your thing? I'm not good with that stuff but I could ask Nami or Robin for advice.

If we’re going on holiday, can we do it alone first or would you prefer bringing your family along?

How many kids do you want to have?

Sanji

MARIMO!

Sanji thinks that he’s about to go crazy. His face is all red, he feels hot up to his ears and his heart is pounding so much like it's going to burst out of his chest. The swordsman’s sweetness and thoughtfulness overwhelms him with joy. He starts laughing out loud–in a way that he’s never laughed before, ignoring the slight ache from his recent surgery. He thinks that if he breaks stitches this way, so be it, because he’s never felt his chest so light and heart so full. He felt so happy that he could fly. 

The swordsman looked confused and offended from all the unhinged laughter like he was being made fun of.

Sanji cups Zoro’s face into his hands, trying his best to recover from his outburst.

Sanji

I didn’t realise that you needed to know everything now!

Zoro looks down to his lips, watching that attractive smile that he’s always drawn to.

Zoro

I just… I really wanted to… to…

Sanji pulls him in to claim his mouth with his. He pushes Zoro roughly against the railing, determined to show the swordsman how much he appreciates him at that very moment. He slides his hand up and down the man’s body, massaging, caressing and feeling everything that he could lay his hands on. He wants to show his love and admiration to the man by worshipping every part of him. Zoro was more than happy to reciprocate the affection.

They stayed like that for what seemed like a lifetime. Regrettably, Sanji pulls himself away from the most passionate kiss he's ever had in his life so he could breathe. He kept his body close as he panted.

Zoro leans in and continues his assault on his lips–biting and sucking hard then giving them soothing licks to ease the arousing pain–not wanting for everything to stop so soon. Between breaths, the blonde speaks.

Sanji

We have our entire lives to get to know one another…. What’s your rush, Marimo?

Zoro freezes at that, blinking his eye. Then for the first time that night, he smiles his genuine toothy smile.

Zoro

I guess we do, don’t we?

Sanji scoops up one of his rough hands and gives it a tender kiss on the calloused knuckles.

Sanji

I want to savour every moment of this–of us, okay? Right now, it’s just you, me… and this.

Sanji gestures at the scene in front of them, then swings his hand around to point out the environment surrounding them–the bright moon, the calm waters and the clear starry skies.

Sanji

Nothing else matters.

Zoro looks into his wide blue eyes. They're positively glowing a lot more so than usual tonight. He wraps his arms around the man and leans his forehead on his, kissing the bridge of his nose. The blonde was correct–nothing else mattered. It felt right to be there. In his heart, he decides to make it a mission to spend every waking moment to prove that he's worthy of his trust, even if it takes a lifetime for him to open up and tell him his real name. He would not demand it that day. He thinks that if he truly deserved it, the blonde will share it to him in time at his own volition. They do have a lifetime to get to know one another, after all.

The swordsman had lost a gamble with Nami that night. He’ll have to remember to send the navigator a couple hundred Beri through the post somehow for betting on him falling in love that year.

—

At a far distance, hidden in the thick mist of the sea, a particularly tall and lanky Warlord watches the blonde and his green-haired companion through the lens of his spyglass. With a flick of his wrist, he retracts the telescope and tosses it to a dark silhouette of a man.

Stranger

Now's the perfect time. Let’s do it.

Doflamingo

Hmm…no. I want to savour… every… moment of this….

He lets out a deep chuckle. 

Doflamingo

Besides, I have another job for you. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.

You are dismissed.

He waves off the man, and the figure walks off. Doflamingo stands from the comfort of his chair and takes a few long strides to the bow of the ship, never taking his eyes off the small dot on the horizon that is the Polar Tang.

Doflamingo

I’m grateful you showed us the way, Pirate King. You never fail me, do you?

…Sanji.

----------

I had way too much fun with those panel drawings. (Honestly part of it was me trying to find an excuse to draw more dofsan lol)

If it's not obvious yet, I try to line up certain things about this Sanji and canon Sanji. Instead of him being exclusively in love with mermaids, I like to think he loves all merfolk in this story.

Fukaboshi's always been the one on my mind as Sanji's "the one who got away" romance. I was rewatching Fish-man Island arc and I remembered how wise and noble he is, and has a great sense of responsibility to look after his family. I figured this Sanji would be attracted to those qualities.

Plus, you know, have you seen those big hands? Fwah~!

[siri-ike]

Summer of change

Part 2? 4?... part 4.

Prev

The morgue? No, thank you. Danny may be more comfortable with death than the average person, but he does not want to see what a dissected body looks like. He'd rather save that for when his parents finally catch him, and he finds out first hand.

Too bad Steph wasn't really asking.

"This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening." He repeated in his head for every step down.

"Oh, come on," Steph calls from the bottom of the stairs. "It's just a basement."

"Nothing good ever happens in basements." He yells back.

The lights are harsh. It smells like bleach and other chemicals. Nothing like the lab at home. Sure, ectoplasm doesn't exactly smell good, or even unlike a corpse. But, ya'know, it's fainter. Like the memory of a smell. This smell is very present.

"Wanna lie down on the dissection table?" She teased.

The image of Vlad, both present and future, strapping him down to a metal table. He wouldn't want to experience anything like that ever again. Green blood goo everywhere. Flashed before his eyes. "No," He sneered.

"Fine," Steph said, defiantly hopping up on the table, "I'll do it." She lay down and stuck her tongue out, pretending to be dead.

She seemed to take joy in messing with him.

Wonder how she'd like it.

A devious grin replaced the fear on Danny's face. And he disappeared into the floor.

_______

She laid down on the dissection table. It was so cold that she wrapped her exposed arms over her stomach. She stuck her tongue out so he wouldn't notice her discomfort. It would be so embarrassing if she managed to make a fool out of herself in front of the only other person her own age.

She looked back to where Danny had been standing, but he was gone. She must have scared him off... like she always does.

She sits back up, her charismatic smile fading, and the lights flickered.

But then the lights flicker. There's a rattling from the office. Footsteps. And if she concentrates enough, breathing.

She gets down from the table, crosses her arms, and wishes she'd worn warmer clothes. "Who's there?" She demands.

"Who's there?" A haunting voice echoes, mocking.

Her heart races her eyes dart to various noises. No one is there. And then...

The lights go out.

The middle of an opperation room in a morgue, somehow, no longer feels like the best place to be.

She tries to run back to where she remembers the stairs to be, but then out of nowhere, just a head appears right in front of her.

"Boo!" It shouts, and she screams at the top of her lungs.

Then the lights turn back on, revealing the same boy from earlier. Head and body.

It takes her a moment to catch her breath, and once she does, she yells.

"You're gonna need a coroner when I'm done with you!" She threatened, but her tough words can't disguise the look of utter delight.

"I told you, nothing good happens in basements." Danny teases with a mischievous smile.

Funny. She could have sworn his eyes were blue.

_______

@confused-they ,you were right. There was a ghost in the basement.

Thank you to @bespoke-nautilus for proofing

@ladyredmoon13 @ryuukthehatter @sonrium @niamcarlin @sunnysolaria @tiffanyhart13 @tkiesai @not-your-average-url

[cjlouwho]

Twelve Christmases

chapter tags: discussions of a burn victim (nothing graphic), discussions of suicide and mental health, very brief mentions of things that happened in past chapters (Tommy's mom, military, red handkerchief, implied noncon), anxiety, depression, background character death, Tommy calls the crisis hotline

read below or on ao3

Day 10: 2022

“I'm calling Roberts in early, you can go home.”

“Captain Marks-”

“No, Kinard! What you did out there was careless. You could've gotten yourself killed.”

“And if I'd done nothing, that man would be dead.”

“He's gonna wish he were dead if he ever wakes up! He's got third degree burns on over seventy percent of his body! I don't mean to be harsh, Tommy, but you risked your life for a dead man walking!”

“So?” 

Marks took a deep breath, sitting back in his chair. “I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear you say that. I know emotions are high right now, but you know as well as I do I can't have a pilot that isn't concerned about whether they live or die.”

“That's not-”

“Stop talking, Kinard,” Marks warned. “You're on the ground for five shifts, I'll reevaluate things myself after that. If I have any hesitation, for even a moment, about your intentions here, you're getting a psych eval. That'll put you on the ground forever. You understand me?”

Tommy pursed his lips, nodding his head. “I understand.”

“Good. Now, go home, enjoy the rest of your Christmas, come back next shift with a clear head.”

*****

By the time Tommy got home, it was nearing ten o'clock at night. His brain was a jumbled mess. It didn't seem to matter how many times he hit the punching bag in his garage, it was never enough.

After a quick shower, he thought about laying down.

But even the idea of that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

So, he began to pace.

He paced, and paced, and paced, with his hands on his hips. From the living room, to the kitchen, down the hall, and back again.

It all felt like too much. He wasn't just thinking about today. He was thinking about his mom. He was thinking about the military. He was thinking about the red handkerchief. He was thinking about waking up in a stranger's apartment with no clue what happened the night before.

He was thinking, thinking, thinking, pacing, pacing, pacing, and he needed it all to stop.

Just stop!

So he did something he never thought he'd do.

He wasn't even sure what made him do it.

All he remembered was pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing the number.

988.

“988 crisis lifeline, this is Penny. How can I help you today?”

He froze.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

He swallowed. Closed his eyes.

“I'm here.”

“Oh, good. May I ask who I'm speaking with?”

“Tommy,” no attempt to try for a fake name.

“Hi, Tommy! I'm Penny. I know I said it before, but I like to make sure the people I speak to heard me. Tommy, ca-”

“I'm not... I don't wanna kill myself,” Tommy interrupted, needing to make it clear. “I just needed someone to talk to.”

“Okay.” Her voice was soothing, familiar almost. A voice that Tommy hadn't heard in years. “That's what I'm here for, Tommy. What's on your mind?”

He tried to think of what to say. Tried to figure out the perfect way to start the conversation.

He was usually so put together.

But everything felt off.

“I hate Christmas.”

He wasn't sure why that was the first thing that popped into his brain at this moment, but it was out there now.

“A lot of people have complex feelings about holidays. It can be tough sometimes, no doubt about it.”

The tiny admission seemed to open a floodgate for Tommy. “My mom was thirty-eight when she died, and I'm thirty-eight now,” he explained. He was sure the words coming out of his mouth were just as jumbled as the thoughts in his head. “And she- she didn't die around Christmas. She actually died in June, so I don't know why I keep thinking about her today of all days, but I do. Not just her; I'm thinking about a lot of things. But it all sort of leads back to her at the end, I guess.”

“Was Christmas important to her?” Penny asked.

“She loved it when I was really little. Always liked looking at the lights and taking me to the mall to pick out things I wanted. I think my dad ruined Christmas for her though.”

“He wasn't big on the holiday?”

“He wasn't big on family. Looking back, I can see how being with him changed her. I didn't recognize it back then.”

“You were young. She probably didn't want you to recognize it.”

Tommy sighed, giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts. “She didn't get thirty-nine Christmases, you know? And that doesn't really seem fair. Because I'm here for my thirty-ninth Christmas and I don't even like the damn day. She deserved more. She deserved better.”

“It's never easy to understand why the people we love get taken from us too soon. It can be especially difficult when we lose them as a child.”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “She didn't get taken from me,” he bit out, “she left me.”

There was a pause on the line, then, “I'm sorry?”

“Yeah, she uh, she made that choice to leave herself. Stuck me with my dad, who never really gave a crap about me in the first place, and she... she was just gone.”

“I'm sorry about that, Tommy. That's a lot to have to deal with as a kid.”

“I don't ever talk about it, about her. I don't really have anyone to talk about it with. My dad never cared for emotions, so I just plaster a smile on my face and put my shoulders back and keep going.” Tommy shook his head, clearing his throat and wiping away the tears that were pooling in his eyes. “That's not why I called though. Not because of her.”

“Okay,” Penny replied. “Tell me why you called, Tommy.”

Tommy rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of some of the tension running through his body. “I did something stupid at work today, and I knew better. I just didn't care.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I work for the fire department. I'm a firefighter pilot, but today I was on the ground. We were called to a fire at this house- well, more like a mansion- and we thought we had the place cleared. Then the daughter started yelling for her dad. I headed back inside and found him, um,” Tommy paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It's okay, Tommy. Take your time.”

“He- He was at the source of the fire. A fairly large space heater exploded and the fire had spread quickly. The house was about to collapse, and I was being told to get out, but I stayed. Long story short, I was able to get the man out right before the structure collapsed. He was severely burned though. If he makes it, and it's a big if, he's going to wish he hadn't. My captain won't let me fly for a while now. Sent me home early.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I wasn't even supposed to work today. I took the shift because I hate this damn holiday.”

“You've mentioned that three times now,” Penny noted.

“What?”

“How much you dislike Christmas. Tommy, do you think that maybe the risk you took today had something to do with the fact it's Christmas? Emotions were already high, making you take risks you wouldn't usually take?”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed. “Maybe? I don't really know though, because I feel like I'm ready to take those same risks any day, anytime. I said it before, and I meant it, I'm not trying to die. I just... I don't think I care if I do. It didn't matter to me if I didn't make it out. We're all gonna die someday, you know? That's what I always figure. What's it matter if it's now?”

“I think it would matter to the people who love you. The people who care about you.”

“I don't think I know anyone well enough for them to be affected by my death.”

“Well, it would matter to me,” Penny replied matter-of-factly, and Tommy couldn't help but let out a laugh.

“I dunno, I can be kind of a bitch sometimes.”

“Thank God for that, I'd hate it if you were too perfect.”

“Well, I never said I wasn't perfect. Perfect and bitch can go together, right?”

“I think it's a great pairing.”

A smile lingered on Tommy's face. He couldn't remember the last time he spoke to someone so openly. “Penny?”

“I'm here.”

“Would you stay on the phone with me until Christmas is over?”

“Honey,” she answered, Tommy softening at the name, “I can honestly say there's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

Penny stayed on the phone with him until 12:01. She was willing to stay on the line longer, but by the time Tommy had watched the clock strike midnight, he was ready to go to bed.

He felt better. A little lighter than he had in a while.

He'd been in bed for about fifteen minutes, and was just dozing off when his phone buzzed.

It was Captain Marks.

The man from the house fire died on the operating table.

I know you wanted to save him, Tommy.

Unfortunately we can't save them all.

Tommy stared at the texts for a good ten minutes before switching over to the phone app and dialing 988 again.

[inazuman]

dec. 22 ✧ day nine ✧ gingerbread house decorating kaiser x reader fluff <3 notes: reader is described as a woman that is arguably not feminine, but a woman all the same, with some personality.

The living room is in an array when he gets home, to say the least.

So many square-shaped cookes are laid out across the dining table, peppermint candies and candycanes are stuck carefully to a half-propped house. You come out of the kitchen with a bowl in hand, and the way your face immediately lights up at the sight of him makes him almost forget the mess.

"Mihya! You're home!" You go to kiss him, and you taste sweet, icing sugar on your lips that has him pulling you in just a little deeper.

He wraps an arm around his waist. "I'm home, love. And you're…" He gestures to the room.

"Gingerbread house making!"

Right. Clearly.

You pull him into the dining room with you, down onto the bench, and drag the half-made house right in front of him, along with a completed little gingerbread square. He does it almost unthinkingly, taking it from you as he watches you prance, moving from standing to sitting as you hum and decorate.

It's warm, he notices. The cookie in his hand, your body next to his, his heart in his chest.

It reminds him of something you've told him before, much before he'd ever gotten down on one knee. That you don't know if you hold femininity in a traditional sense. That you will not make a home out of a kitchen, or twirl in a garden for him to admire. He's never asked that of you, anyways.

A woman, you're sure to tell him that about yourself. More hard edges than softness, more direct than easygoing. But a woman, nonetheless. And having you lay gingerbread cookies all over the dining room table, icing snowed over your shirt and pants, standing over the miniature cookie-bricked house so that you get the angle just right… That's more than he's ever asked for.

He flicks edible glitter into your face with his hand, watching as you flinch.

"Mihya!" You laugh, so wholeheartedly it almost catches him off-guard, making him laugh in return. He presses the wall of the cookie house to the base cookie, balancing it carefully.

You hold walls around your heart. He understands it, he's done the same for so long. But you opened up yours for him anyways, let him into your world with each fragmented, stained-glass piece.

It's in the watching of a mirror, he thinks. The way you first react to pull away to touch, your innate uncomfortableness to the love your friends extend. And then it's way you take a step further than he ever has, in watching you try anyways. In watching you say "I love you", even as a whisper. In pulling people back into your orbit even when everything is telling you to run from them.

It makes him think that maybe, he can try too.

"One more, Mihya," you lay what must be a part of a roof in front of him, half-decorated already. There's a border of icing around it that clearly looks like you couldn't stop the piping from pouring out.

He can't help it, he covers his eyes and a laugh spits out of him.

"What?" You look at him, incredelous, mirroring his smile.

"It's so bad." And now, he can't stop, slapping his hand over his mouth as his body shakes.

"Excuse me?" You laugh with him, staring over his shoulder to see what he's seeing. "It's a roof!"

"Why is there so much icing?"

"I- okay, look, piping is not easy. You try!"

"Oh no, no need," he gasps out, "There's enough icing for three roofs."

"You do not get to complain unless you wanna do the rest of the roofs!"

He grips your chin and pulls you into a kiss, a breath of laughter on his lips. It shocks you, icing bag still in your hand, a poof of white dust catches the light.

When he finally pulls apart from you, he grazes a thumb over your cheek, taking in your wide-eyed look. "Okay. I'll do the rest of the roofs."

"Oh thank god, my arms are killing me from all the icing." You hand him the bag, shaking it in the air. He takes it from you willingly, catching your hand before it can pull away to kiss the back of it.

twelve days of selfshipmas event

god, these selfship excerpts are getting more and more personal LMAO. ALSO CAN YOU BELIEVE this isn't about sae HAHA i just really felt like writing kaiser for this one!!

sorry to tartagliove (who made this event) in advance bc it started as just gingerbread house making and then i went overboard w my feelings HAHA BUT I HAD so much fun writing this!!

[hubbvrd]

Off day | Sam Hubbard

❝ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.❞

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Carefully, Y/n pulled her cozy blanket over her with one hand while trying to balance her laptop as best she could with the other.

It was the first day of the off season.

Sam had finished all the games and y/n had taken a few weeks where she would work from home to spend more time with Sam.

Some people probably thought that the majority of the stars flew off on vacation, sunbathing and sipping cocktails by the pool as far away from home as possible.

But not Sam and y/n. The two wanted to approach the off-season as relaxed as possible, so the two had decided to tackle everything spontaneously.

And so the two hadn't booked a vacation yet, because the two wanted to do that spontaneously.

One or the other had to plan his things, know when it went where and have fixed dates for certain things.

But that was different for y/n and Sam.

The two of them had always been quite spontaneous, which they both got along with very well and it had never really caused any problems.

Satisfied, y/n sighed when she felt the big cozy pillow in her back.

She loved to snuggle up on the couch in comfy clothes - mostly she wore Sam's hoodie - and surf a bit on the laptop.

And today was just such a day.

"Are you sure it's okay if I play a little?" , Sam asked her as he unzipped the wrapper from his new PlayStation game he'd bought an hour ago.

"What was my answer the last ten times?" , y/n asked him the counter question and flipped open her laptop.

"It was : no I didn't and now play before I change my mind" , Sam quoted y/n.

"Well there's your answer."

Y/n couldn't help smirking, which is why she put her laptop on her bent knees so Sam couldn't see her face.

"Okay, thanks. I won't play for long either. After all, I'm off work now, and I want to spend the time with my wonderful girlfriend."

"Suck up," she said, but couldn't stop a smile from creeping onto her lips.

"I love you too!" , Sam exclaimed as he left the room to head upstairs to the room that was being used as a gaming and movie room.

Y/n thought about what she should do now in the time on her laptop until Sam would come back and they would do something together.

But she didn't have to think too long, because shortly after she landed on Pinterest, the app she loved so much.

There she mostly found craft ideas, which she liked to try out and often gave away for birthdays.

But also outfit, decoration, or hairstyle ideas were at the top of y/n's list of pinboards, which grew more and more on her account with every visit to the app.

And so, for now, she was busy for a few hours.

—

When y/n next glanced at the clock, she was startled to find that it was almost two hours later.

She had been quite engrossed in all the new pins, so she hadn't noticed how quickly the time had passed.

She closed the laptop and listened to see if Sam had finished his game and was in another room.

But the house was silent.

A glance outside also showed that it was getting a little dark by now.

But not because it was so late, but because a rain shower was coming.

Hopefully it would pass quickly, y/n thought to herself, as she closed the laptop and then began to fold her cozy blanket.

After making the sofa neat again, she ran over to the adjacent kitchen and filled a glass with water, which she emptied in one go and began listening again.

But it remained silent, so y/n assumed that Sam had also forgotten the time and was still playing The Last of Us.

In fact, he had been talking about the game for a few weeks, which some of his teammates were playing themselves and had inspired Sam with their talk of the game, so that Sam had subsequently bought it as well, although the Playstation had actually more or less always been just a dust collector.

Briefly, y/n thought about whether she should let Sam play a little more or whether she should go straight up to him.

But she decided to prepare some sandwiches first, so she got everything she needed and started to make some sandwiches.

Quietly she hummed the new Harry Styles song, while she moved her hips lightly to the beat and carefully placed the sandwiches.

A moment later, as she looked contentedly at the sandwiches piled on a large plate on the counter, she decided to check on Sam now.

It was raining outside by now, so the rain was lightly pattering against the windows.

Otherwise, it was still pretty quiet in the house, which didn't change when y/n ran up the stairs.

At the top of the house were five more rooms. One of them was the bedroom and the second one was the gaming and cinema room.

Slowly y/n walked towards the second room, where the door was ajar.

Cautiously y/n opened the door and took a look inside the room.

Sam was sitting in the corner, where there was a small PC screen on a desk and a gaming chair in front of it.

He had headphones on and probably he would get scared if y/n entered the room.

That's why y/n carefully leaned against the door and looked at her boyfriend, who she could only see from the side.

But he looked quite concentrated, so she again considered whether she should disturb him.

The decision was quickly taken away from her, however, when she glanced at the clock on the wall in the room.

By now, Sam had been gaming for over two hours, which he probably didn't even notice himself, as he was as engrossed in the game as y/n had been on Pinterest just a few minutes ago.

Carefully, she knocked on the wood of the door, which she wasn't sure Sam had even heard.

Nevertheless, she crept over to Sam on her socks across the parquet floor, which creaked softly in a few places.

He didn't have his headset on both ears properly, so he had probably already heard y/n, but made no effort to turn around to her.

"Sammy?" , she asked cautiously as she slowly moved her hand to his shoulder and placed it there a moment later.

"Huh?" , she quietly perceived from the addressed, who, however, did not take his eyes from the screen and it looked like he was just in a place where it was impossible to turn around or off now.

"You've been playing for over two hours," she said softly.

From Sam she perceived only a slight nod, which left her smiling slightly.

"I made sandwiches" , she informed him, but Sam didn't seem to really notice her sentence anymore, as he was already quite engrossed in his game again.

"You love to eat them, don't you? Extra with cheese" , she tried again to get Sam to listen to her carefully.

But no chance.

Then just differently, y/n thought to herself, as she pulled the second gaming chair over to her, let herself fall on it and then slid as close as she could to Sam.

He briefly looked over at her, but didn't think much of it, so he continued to gamble intently.

Y/n, however, began to poke him in the stomach shortly after, which didn't begin to bother Sam at first until y/n repeated the process over and over again within a few seconds.

"I'm not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention" , she let him know when she noticed that the poking was starting to make him uncomfortable.

"Okay you have my full attention," Sam said a moment later as he turned off the screen and placed the headset on the desk.

Sam leaned back and then held his girlfriend's hand, pulling her onto his lap afterwards.

"Do you know what I just told you?" , she asked him as she placed her hands on his neck.

"That I look cute gambling?" , he asked her with a grin, trying to lighten the situation a bit, because he didn't want to make y/n angry.

"No, not that. I said I made sandwiches, but you'd rather spend more time with your new game than with me."

"Aww is my girlfriend jealous of a video game?" , he asked her with a smirk as he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"Of a video game? Never!" , she said quickly and then crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Then you won't mind if I keep playing now, will you?"

Even though Sam was joking, y/n gave him a quick evil eye and quickly exclaimed

"No! I finally have your attention now, don't I?"

"And you'll have it for the rest of the evening now, too" , Sam promised her as he stood up, picked her up and then carried her downstairs to eat his favorite sandwiches.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 111 (Making Progress on the Case?)

Conrad gave Malcolm's video to a tech at work the next day, and while they worked he updated the police chief. "I'm sure it's him. When the video comes back, we'll know."

"The precinct still won't send you to George Brindleton's villa in Sulani until the video can be analyzed, Gordon. I know how badly you want to get there, but you can't take any more of this investigation off grid. You've got a lot of nerve getting Judge Morrison to rush a warrant on a Landgraab. I don't care how well you think you know him."

"I'm sorry, Chief. I've been getting a little desperate to solve this one, and because he's a Landgraab, I knew you'd tell me to hold off if I asked for permission first."

The chief rolled her eyes. "One of these days your instincts might fail you, Lieutenant, and all that risk you take won't have reward."

Two officers entered the room after a knock at the door. "Lieutenant Gordon, we brought in someone you're going to want to talk to. She says she's an ex-girlfriend of Rafael Bonilla."

Immediately, Conrad knew who he meant. Melissa Ramsay. He'd found old social media posts from a deleted account with their photos. He found her in the police database, subject to an outstanding warrant after a bust Rafa had also been involved in when they were sixteen, and had put out an APB on her almost a year ago.

He entered the interrogation room, and she looked at him nervously in her orange jumpsuit. "I wasn't trying to avoid arrest. I thought it was all over, I swear. I was only there that night because I loved him. I didn't do anything."

Conrad could relate to her predicament. "I'm not trying to reopen an old case against you, Miss Ramsay. Your record after the bust is clean. But it's rare for someone who becomes their high school valedictorian not to continue to university. You've been harder to track down than most who have nothing to hide."

"I don't know what you want from me. I work in a flower shop. I can give you the name and number for my boss."

Conrad nodded, letting her write down the information. "When's the last time you spoke to Rafa Bonilla?"

"I don't remember."

"A few months ago. That's the last time I spoke with his sister, Ximena. And you might not know this about me, but over a decade ago, I loved her like you say you loved Rafa. So you don't forget."

"Maybe I didn't love him enough."

"You loved him enough to be there that night."

Melissa frowned. "We finally broke up three years ago and I haven't seen him since."

"Do you have any idea where he might be, or who he might be with?"

"I don't know. After the bust we didn't talk about his work, but it was always the problem between us until I finally left."

Again, Melissa's story rang true to Conrad's experience. "Did you know he's wanted by San Myshuno PD?"

She nodded. "I had nothing to do with those busts, either."

"I know that, Miss Ramsay. Do you think Rafa's on the run?"

"Maybe he finally got away from his sister. He knew she was dragging him down, but he didn't know what else to do with his life so he did whatever she asked. They had this loyalty that he couldn't shake. I begged him and I tried to deal with it for years, but finally I had to accept that she won and I walked away from him."

"If he ran, where would he go?"

"I really don't know, Lieutenant. He didn't talk about what he wanted to do because he thought the cartel was his only viable option."

"Has Ximena tried to find you since Rafa went missing?"

She shook her head. "She hated me so much, I don't think she's spared a single thought for me since Rafa and I broke up. She never wanted me around to begin with."

Conrad gave her his card and let her go, asking her to call if either Bonilla happened to reach out after so long. He hadn't learned enough from Melissa to justify a work trip to Sulani to find Rafa, but if Melissa was telling the truth, he'd been given valuable insight into Rafa's mind.

Ximena thought Rafa was happy to work at her side, running drugs and weapons for the cartel. But maybe the reason Ximena had been no real help in the search for Rafa was that she truly had no idea where he was. Maybe he'd been in hiding for years - from his warrants as well as his vicious sister.

He was beginning to get excited - the end of this very long tunnel might finally be in sight, but his run of luck couldn't last forever.

Frowning, the young officer who worked on his video approached him toward the end of the day. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant Gordon, but the facial recognition software couldn't pick up enough of the man's face in the video recording to confirm a match with Rafael Bonilla."

Conrad sighed. Though it felt he'd taken two steps forward and two steps back, forced to keep looking for evidence connecting Rafa to Sulani and the Brindletons, he still felt as though he was on the right track.

He returned home to his family that night, finding Ash and Lavender in the kitchen with a book.

"Give Twee, Dada! Pease?"

Lavender crossed her hands on her lap and smiled, melting any possible opposition. Not that he ever turned down a chance to read the kids a good story.

Heather gave Gord a bath while Conrad read, getting the kids ready for bed before a freshly-shampooed Gord bounded up the stairs to say good night.

"Nigh-nigh Go-dee," she said, patting his head gently as he leaned in for a nuzzle. "Go-dee wet!" She laughed wildly and wrapped her arms around him. "Lovey!"

Conrad's gorgeous family was a constant reminder why it was so important he find the Bonillas and move forward with his picture-perfect life. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

[iizuumi]

>:3

[nezuscribe]

(previous part)

it's been a week since you've spoken to arranged!gojo, and he feels like he's about to start going crazy.

you don't speak during your meals, not even when he addresses you in a question. sometimes you spare him a glance, but he'd still rather see your icy glare than see nothing at all.

and he knows he fucked up. he knows that you seeing him alone with anya was perhaps the worst possible place you could’ve caught him, but he's been almost begging you to listen to him, to hear his side. but every time he goes to explain you leave abruptly, leaving him alone, feeling the looks of pity from those around the two of you.

and you know you're being petty. after all, the two of you are only bound by words, nothing else. if anything, the two of you were just becoming friends, so this shouldn't hurt you as much as it does.

but you hear the whispers of the ladies, hear of their secret proposals of how gojo would surely bed them if they just asked. how miserable he must be trapped with you, how this marriage is ruining his life. and you know anya, know about her history with him. before you were his wife you were the higher echelon wallflower, listening to all the gossip, observing from afar.

you've gathered some ideas in your head as to why he might want to speak with you. perhaps he wants to gently break the news that he's found a mistress, one that he actually loves. or that maybe he's already had one and now you know why he's been so secretive.

so the more he tries to talk to you, the more you pull away. you don't know why he cares so much, why this even matters to him. if anything, you feel like he should be content with your silence.

but he's not, and gojo grows more restless by the hour.

he decides he can't live like this anymore. tonight he's going to make you listen to him, even if you want nothing to do with him.

you're holed up in your room, talking with alina as she dabs lavender oil on your neck before you go to sleep. you know she knows about your silence with gojo, but ever friend, she does nothing to bring it up.

well, she wouldn't have to if he didn't come knocking feverishly at your door.

you watch in your mirror as she peeks her head out, her gasp of surprise causing a sinking pit to form in your stomach. you can hear how she scrambles with the titles of my lord, how she explains that you're nearly about to go to sleep.

it's late, the only light is the flickering of the candles on your nightstand. he should be asleep by now.

gods, you wonder for the millionth time this week, why does he care so much?

alina finishes up, closing the door slightly as she turns to you, her eyes finding yours in the mirror.

"i'm sorry my lady," she bows her head almost apologetically, "but my lord wants to talk to you. he's requested me to leave...if you'll excuse me," she bows, quickly leaving, not giving you any time to actually excuse her. you know she can't stay any longer, but you do wish she put up more of a fight. you watch her skirt bustle away, the door being left slightly ajar.

you try to act nonchalant, continuing to dab the oil onto your wrists as you look down, even when you hear the door click shut, even when you can feel his presence several feet behind you.

you sigh through your nose, heat rising to your cheeks.

"what?" you bite out, your own voice shocking you. you want to get this over with, not too desperate to hear about how he's ready to take on a mistress and shun you away.

you can hear him take in a deep breath, your eyes briefly looking up in the mirror to catch his, the same ones that make your knees weak, and avert your gaze.

"you haven't spoken to me in over a week," he says after a beat of silence.

you shrug indifferently, despite the fact that he could probably ask you the specific amount of hours it's been since the two of you had talked and you'd give an accurate number.

"i've been busy," you murmur, taking your earrings off as you place them gently in the little glass bowl to the side.

he doesn't say anything about your blatant lie, just nods slowly, as if he understands.

"i missed hearing you talk," gojo tells you quietly, almost as if his voice had been stuck in his throat, and you wonder if any man before him had ever tried to sweet talk his wife before he told her about his new mistress.

you don't say anything, still refusing to look at him as you stand up from your seat, turning off one of the candles near you as you smooth out some of the wrinkles of your nightgown.

"is this what you really want to tell me gojo?" you say bluntly, looking to the side momentarily, getting a longer look at his bulky figure, how he tries to make himself seem smaller, "that you miss my stupid jokes and dull stories?"

"they're not stupid," he quickly cuts in, his voice a little stronger, brows furrowed, "and i like your stories."

you roll your eyes, moving around the bed, to the side where he's not, and fluff your pillows. you've never found this useful, but it gives you something to do with your hands other than fidgeting with them.

truth be told, you're reflecting. you're scared of what it is he has to say, and so you try to appear stronger, and less caring, despite the fact that it's tearing you apart.

you try not to feel self-conscious of the fact that this is his first time ever seeing your room, or the fact that it's so bland. you didn't come to this estate with many things, and so you've tried to spruce up the space as much as you can, but aside from the few flowers and paintings on the wall, you fear it looks bland compared to everything else he's seen.

"and no," gojo adds, running a hand through his already tousled white hair as his arms crossed over his chest, and you finally allow yourself to stare at him, "that's not all i wanted to say."

he paused for a second.

"i don't know why i followed her out, or why i even stayed to hear her speak, but she kept saying these things about..." he trails off, gnawing on his lips as your eyes narrow slightly.

"me?" you finish for him, and his eyes dart to yours.

gojo nods a little bit, arms bulging a little bit as if remembering what she had said.

"i'm used to people staring at me, i lived with it my entire life. but with you, people..." he struggles to find words, "people stare longer. and i don't know why."

you raise a brow.

"do you want me to explain?" you say and he looks at you briefly, almost in a brazen way.

he shakes his head as if he had steered off track.

"that's beside the point. what i wanted to tell you is that she...she was saying some nonsense and i was about to leave until she offered for me to stay at the hostelry she was at." his blue eyes are wavering, his finger itching to get closer to you. this stupid bed is in the middle of you two and he wishes it were gone.

your breathing hitches a little bit, and you hope he doesn't see the sad tilt on your lips.

"so i banished her. or, well, i guess you saw her and then i banished her, but i would've done it regardless," he explains hurriedly, "look, i'm sorry...really sorry. if you want me to-"

"you banished her?" you cut him off, voice raised slightly in confusion.

his mouth gapes open for a second, and then blinks slowly, nodding.

"of...course," he tilts his head, his gorgeous head, slightly "you know that i am married, right? to you? she was offering to-"

"i thought you were going to tell me that you slept with her. o-or i don't know! that you were going to make her your mistress or something!" you spew out, your voice raised as you pace around the floor, moving a little bit closer to him as his eyes widen.

"why would you ever think that?" gojo says in a panicked tone, nothing like the man who commanded the northern army, but more like somebody who was watching his world burn in front of him.

"why?" you exclaim, shocked, "why? are you daft? every single woman wants to sleep with you! every single time we host those dinners, o-or we go to those parties, they look at you and they look at me and they pity you. i hear the whispers of the ladies, how they wouldn't mind being the other woman."

gojo hears the way your voice wavers, how your lips tremble, and the way you try not to let your bottom lip quiver. he sees the way you try to stay strong, to keep your image unbridled, but right now he feels like he's watching you break and he doesn't know what to do.

"so? what makes you think i'd do anything with them?" gojo argues, his voice raised a little bit, not in shouting, but in genuine disbelief.

you take a moment to step back and observe his behavior, and a nagging voice in your head tells you that he's telling you the truth. that he's concerned and worried, that maybe all he came to tell you tonight was an apology.

but that can't be correct.

so you sigh, your arms crossed over your chest protectively.

"i...i don't know," you murmur, "you sleep in another wing, you're always away. i thought...maybe..." you can't meet his eyes, fidgeting with the ring on your finger.

gojo takes a step forward, lips parted, cheeks rosy and flushed.

the two of you don't say anything for a minute, his chest heaving up and down. you feel like there's a weight both removed and added onto your shoulder.

"why didn't you say anything?" he whispers, "did you think...did you think i was...?" he can't finish the sentence, the words themselves too gruesome.

he doesn't say anything as he takes another tentative step closer.

you watch him, your eyes mirroring one another.

"i made a vow to you," his voice is heavy, traveling across the spanning stone walls, going deep into your bones, "and even if you prefer me to be your friend, i'll keep to that vow till the day i die."

your eyes gloss over, lips trembling.

you don't say anything, taking a couple steps forward as you smash against his chest, face crumpling against the stone wall of his torso as you hug him tightly, hoping that he can't feel the tears that seep through his nightshirt.

never in your life has somebody made a promise to you. and never in your life has somebody kept to that promise.

"thank you," you murmur, your voice muffled as his arms wrap around your body, steady and strong.

"and anyways, i'd prefer to be married to you than those miserable women any day," he mumbles into your hair and you laugh wetly, squeezing your arms tighter.

"really?" you say, tears blurring your vision.

"really," he hums, not able to say anything because he fears what you'd say if he told you that he'd rather be your husband and your friend. but he'd keep that inside, respecting your wishes.

if only he knew you wished the same.

[dollfacefantasy]

I WANNA BE YOURS ♡

pairing: logan howlett x puppy-hybrid!fem!reader

summary: logan finds you, a special kind of mutant, out on a mission. when he takes in this puppy girl, you quickly forms a bond to him. he tries to tell himself he doesn't like his new shadow or want the attention, but it gets harder to deny as the two of you grow closer.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), hybrids, breeding kink, praise kink, dumbification, fluff, canon-typical violence, blood, nightmares

a/n: thank you so much to @gor3-hound and @nexysworld for beta reading <33

Adamantium strains against the skin between Logan's knuckles as his fists collide with his opponents' bodies. His claws beg to come out, to slice through his own skin and into the men he's striking. Despite causing himself pain, it would make this little struggle easier.

Regardless, he reigns in the urge and continues to fight without them. He didn't need them yet. Having a skeleton of impenetrable metal served as the only weapon he needed for right now. These guys taking him on weren't anything special, simple lackeys hired to protect a facility they didn't even understand the operation of.

His unpierced knuckles land a few strikes to one's abdomen, and he pops the other's face with his elbow. He whips his forearm around and slams the first to the ground in a finishing blow. The other man comes crashing down close behind after he connects his fist with the center of his face.

He looks at both of them crumpled up and unconscious on the ground, shaking off the adrenaline from the scuffle with a few rolls of his shoulders. He swipes the set of keys that hang off the belt of one who went down first and reconvenes with the rest of the team at the point of entrance to the next part of this warehouse.

"Did you find a way to open the doors?" Storm asks him. The white-haired woman struts beside him to the large cement doors at the end of the hallway.

Logan holds up the set of metallic keys, giving them a little jingle as his answer.

"Wow, and without shedding any blood. Impressive," Cyclops mocks from behind. Him and Jean walk a couple paces to the back of him, their eyes scanning for any potential hindrances to the mission.

"Night's not over yet, bub."

The four of them reach the door, and fortunately, it only takes a few tests to determine which key is meant for this lock. Before either Logan or Storm can push the barrier open, the door swings back under the force of Jean's telepathy.

They head inside but brace themselves for what they might see. This mission came about after the professor discovered that this building was being used as some kind of location to traffic mutants. The team had dealt with cases like this before, and they were never pretty. Often, the victims were young and struggling, picked up off the street or gathered from false mutant shelters to be sold into a life of experimentation or fetishization.

Upon first glance, this section of the building holds nothing new. The room isn't large in comparison to the others before it and looks more like a connector between the last hallway and another one. It's dark, not much light to get a good look at anything that could be hiding away.

Storm is eager to keep moving along and guides them towards the entrance to the next hallway. His other two teammates overtake him as well and follow behind her.

"I'm gonna sniff around here for a minute. I'll be right behind you," Logan says and waves them forward.

The two women spare him a skeptic glance, but Scott couldn't be more eager to part from him. They head off in the other direction, leaving Logan alone in the quiet between these four walls.

He just wanted to be sure there was nothing here, whether it be something he could help or something meaning to do them harm. Though he kind of hoped it was the latter. He never felt very good at the 'saving' part of being on this team. Let him go in a room full of threats, and he was guaranteed to be successful. He'd take every last one down in record time and not even have to think twice about it. But give him one person to comfort and tell that everything is gonna be ok, and that would have him breaking a sweat. It's not that he couldn't do it; he simply had to work at it. He didn't have to work at being a weapon.

Treading over the pavement cautiously, Logan's eyes sweep over the few vacant shelves and lonely crates. The room truly seemed unoccupied. He could probably only justify a few more feet before having to go join the rest of the team. But then he sees it.

A cage towards the back of the room, a tarp over the top. It sat near a smaller door he hadn't noticed before. He wasn't too concerned with going in just yet. First he wanted to see if anything was confined behind those thin black bars.

It was larger than a simple pet kennel but too small to give the impression that held anything monstrous. He walks closer to it. No sound came from it nor could he see any movement, but his curiosity had been triggered. He had to know why this thing had been secluded.

Once he's close enough, he crouches down and pushes away the rough white material draped over it. His fingers undo the latch and open the door so he could get a better look inside.

He peers in and is met with a pair of eyes staring back at him out of the darkness. His first instinct is to back up and get into a defensive position, but whatever's inside doesn't give him the chance.

You lunge at him and knock him flat onto his back.

He hits the cement with a grunt, and his claws cry out to him again. He could easily unsheathe them and tear whatever you were to shreds. But before he does this, he realizes that this isn't an attack. He's not in any kind of pain. In fact, nothing is really happening to him. All you were doing was... sniffing him?

He could hear your rapid inhales and exhales as your nose trailed along the collar of his white tank top. Straining his neck back as much as he can, he finally gets a good look at you. You were human - smaller than most with wide, curious eyes - but you also had floppy ears erupting from your scalp and a long tail coming from your backside that was whipping back and forth.

Even with all the different kinds of mutants he'd seen, he couldn't help thinking this was bizarre at first glance. He knew it was possible for mutations to express physically even though most were internal. For god's sake he had literal claws and knew multiple people who were straight up blue. But he'd never seen anything like this.

You looked like just a mix of canine and human. In honesty, you were pretty cute. You didn't look like the type of thing someone would shout 'freak' at from across the street. Hybrid was probably a more accurate descriptor than mutant. Either way, he didn't want you on top of him.

"Quit it," he growls before grabbing your waist and pushing you off. Based on the fact that you weren't attacking, he assumes you're a victim rather than a perpetrator. He rises to his feet to stand above you, ready to fight just in case. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

You sit there, tail still wagging despite his rough temperament. Your eyes have that gleam that likens your appearance to a puppy even more than your ears or tail do. He realizes you might not be able to talk or something, but he doesn't get too far with that thought before you speak.

"A mutant. Like you."

His eyes narrow.

"Yeah? How do you know I'm a mutant?" he asks. He hadn't shown you his claws and you hadn't seen his skin magically stitch itself back together. Maybe you were on the other side of this mission.

"I can smell it," you answer.

That makes his eyebrow slowly raise. "Smell it?" he says.

You nod. "Mutants smell different than humans," you say.

You rise to your feet and stand next to him. Leaning in again, you smell his arm. Your head moves down his bicep and to his elbow and forearm. He pulls his limb away with a scowl, but you'd already had a chance to register the scent that'd caught your attention.

"You smell metallic too," you say.

So your canine traits weren't just physical. Logan knew you weren't lying, having an enhanced olfaction himself. He'd just never met someone else who also had that ability.

"Your mutation is basically just being an overgrown dog then?" he asks with a bemused expression, "You like playing fetch? Want me to call you a good girl?"

You can't help the automatic twitch in your tail when you hear that phrase, but your expression darkens as if a storm cloud had formed inches above those folded ears. 

"I'm not a dog. If I'm a dog, are you like a robot since you have metal in you?" you huff and cross your arms.

A sharp puff of air comes from his nostrils at your attempted retort. "Robot isn't exactly what they call me."

You grumble and roll your eyes. Your tail had gone still behind you and hung between your legs.

He continues to stare down at you, trying to decide what to do next. Even though you were a mutant, you didn't seem to be a fighter or have any skills that would be useful in combat. He wasn't just going to leave you here, but he didn't know how big a risk it would be to let you tag along.

"What are you doing here? Did someone lock you in that cage, or is that just where you spend your free time?" he asks.

"Someone took me and locked me in there," you say, your pout deepening.

"For how long?"

You shrug. Logan has the urge to roll his eyes just as you did, but he can tell your lack of knowledge is genuine.

"You don't know how long you were in there?" he prompts.

"No. Maybe like... a couple weeks or something. I don't know. It's hard to keep track."

Of course. Just like a puppy, you had a poor concept of time. He shakes his head and rubs his hand over his face. It did look like you'd been captive for a few weeks. You weren't in the best shape and had bruises littering your body. Your clothes were dirty and torn at the hems. As annoying as he found you in the few minutes he'd known you, he knew you didn't deserve this treatment. Locking a cute little thing like you in a cage was plain cruelty.

"Alright. Well what's your name? I'm Logan," he sighs.

You tell him, but just as the last syllable leaves your lips, footsteps burst into the room from the direction of the hallway.

Scott and Jean round the corner, clearly looking for their teammate. Logan turns around to see the new arrivals and relaxes when he recognizes the man in the visor and the redhead beside him. 

"There you are. We thought you took off or something," Scott mocks casually.

He opens his mouth to respond, but the words dissolve when he feels a thud against his back. 

You don’t recognize the people who'd just shown up, so you hide yourself behind the man who found you. Pressing yourself against his back, you cautiously tilt your head to his side to peek at Scott and Jean. Your fingers clutch the fabric of Logan's tank top so tight they threaten to poke little holes in the ribbed material.

"What- what are you doing?" he grunts and tries to look over his shoulder at you. The way you were latched onto him prevented him from turning around fully. He lifts one of his arms to see your eyes scoping out the potential danger in front of him.

"Get- C'mon get off. They're not gonna hurt you," he continues, brushing you off by reaching back and lightly tugging your hair.

You stumble to the side, and he manages to grab your shoulders and walk you in front of him. He holds you there, presenting you to Scott and Jean. The way your ears pin back to your head makes him feel a little guilty about making you confront the strangers so directly, but they weren't gonna do anything to you. Assuming they were gonna rescue you and take you back to Xavier's, you'd have to get used to prying eyes and meeting new people.

Both Scott and Jean look at you curiously, Jean with less confusion than Scott. Clearly, he had a similar thought process to Logan while the woman next to him could sense that you were a mutant and what your abilities were.

"I found her in that cage back there," he explains.

The two of them nod. They take a few more moments to simply observe you before they move closer and ask for your name. You give it just like you had to Logan. They nod again and then begin running through a similar routine of questions. Theirs are more detailed though and manage to coax more information out of you.

Your responses give them a quick little rundown of you. You fit the profile of the people they usually found on these missions. You're young, early 20s, struggling because getting a job was nearly impossible with your ears and tail. You had no family. They'd given you up after your mutation began to manifest. Everyone thinks puppies are cute, but apparently, no one wanted a human child that shared features with them. You'd been taken from the shelter you were staying at like most others who found themselves in this situation.

As you answer each one posed to you, Logan feels you subtly sinking back against him. Your back meets his abdomen like two magnets slowly being pulled together. Despite the annoyed look on his face, he doesn't say anything or pull away.

When the brief interrogation comes to a close, Scott relays to Logan that they had found other victims in another part of the facility. Storm was with them now, guiding them to the extraction point where they'd be taken to safety. The four of you just had to follow along.

Scott and Jean lead the way. Logan follows behind and you trot along beside him. He notices you're staying close to him in particular.

"Did the guys who took you say anything else about why they wanted you?" he asks. The fact that you were kept separate was still lingering in his mind. To him it didn't mean anything good.

You shrug and look up at him. "They didn't really talk to me that much unless they were being mean or spitting at me. Or kicking the cage," you say.

You say it like it's casual, but he can tell it hurts. He knows how it feels to an extent. All mutants do. Not many people will openly talk shit about a guy with metal claws, but the sentiment is still there. The idea that you're inferior. That something is wrong with you. That you don't belong in this life.

He just nods, not knowing much else to offer as comfort. "Did you ever overhear them talking about you? Any reason they wouldn't have put you with the others?"

"I think they wanted to figure out if there was more of me. Or if they could make anymore at least," you say after taking a moment to think, "Cause you know. Guys like the whole puppy thing. Makes me worth more I guess."

He cringes at the ugly picture you paint with those words.

The group of you continues walking, footsteps being the only sound in the hallway. Your tail had started wagging again which makes him feel a little better about not offering anything in terms of reassurance. But when you reach the room where the other victims had been, your tail comes to a halt and droops between your legs.

A party of men is spread throughout the area. They walk around scanning the now empty space, visibly incensed at their captives being freed. You slide yourself against Logan's back again, but you don't try to peek at them like you did with Scott and Jean. It doesn't take much to figure out that these are the ones who kept you in that cage.

They hear the team and you approaching and turn to face you. Despite your efforts to hide, they spot you before you're completely concealed behind the bulk of Logan's muscular frame. The one closest scowls at your attempt.

"I'm guessing the three of you know what happened to the things we had in here?" he says, sarcasm lacing each word.

"You could say that. And those people are long gone by now, so it's probably best you move on," Scott answers. His fingers rise to his temple in preparation to operate his visor.

The men don't seem to be threatened. The amalgamation of them tightens, forming a more crowded cluster.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But you're not leaving with that one," the same one says and gestures to you hiding, "She stays here."

"Not gonna happen, bub," Logan responds so quickly it surprises even himself.

His teammates also look interested in his seeming budding attachment to you, but they know better than to squabble in front of adversaries.

You are the only one the words don't strike in any sort of way, but that's because you didn't totally hear them. You're too busy trembling, hoping with everything you had that Logan wouldn't force you in front of him again and then kick you into the group of guys.

But obviously, that doesn't happen. There's more arguing that you don't hear because you choose to tune it out. You can sense Logan becoming more agitated and the air around everyone becoming more tense. Your body grows more rigid, your ears glued back to your scalp. You just want this to be over.

As these thoughts whirl through your mind, the arguing comes to a head, and Logan launches away from you. You feel naked without his large body shielding yours. 

Scott and Jean aid him. Your first inclination is to turn the other direction and just try to stay out of the way. You weren't confident in your combat skills. If you could seriously fight, you probably wouldn't have gotten snatched up. You didn't want to be the reason any of these people who were trying to help you got hurt.

But then you see someone coming up behind Logan brandishing a knife. It's out of your control, the way your muscles go taut and your lip curls back. You'd only ever been in a real fight once before in your life, and you don't remember feeling this vicious. You spring up behind the man, finding where his shoulder meets his neck and biting down hard.

The cries of agony and grunts of anger seem to go on forever. The smell of blood invades your nostrils as you deal with your target. He'd fallen to the floor when your teeth sunk into his flesh. You feel him thrashing underneath you as you rip and tear, but you don't stop until he's gone still. You then pull off and wipe your mouth, twisting around to sit on the abdomen of your incapacitated enemy.

Logan also had no difficulty dealing with the men coming at him. There were just more of them, so he took a little longer. After one last thud of a body crumpling to the floor, only heavy breathing sounds through the warehouse.

Jean and Scott seem fine. They stand there checking each other over, and you see them share a brief kiss. You glance over towards Logan next and decide to return to his side.

He's alone. The sounds of panting are mostly coming from him. His body glistens, muscles lightly coated in perspiration. His scent is stronger to you now, and it only grows more overwhelming as you approach him. Men lie at his feet with pools of blood around them, presumably the same crimson liquid that stains his hands, wrists, and forearms in streaks.

You make your next move without thinking. Coming up to his side, trying in vain to avoid getting your ratty socks soaked with blood, you press your cheek against his bicep and snake your arms around his.

He then looks down at you. His eyebrows raise at the blood that coats your mouth and chin and trails down your shirt. You hadn't seemed like any type of predator before. Your presence was more akin to a puppy that'd be torn apart by wolves than anything that could do anyone harm.

"How'd you do that?" he asks.

Your finger rises and hooks under your upper lip, pulling it back to reveal your canines, sharper than a normal person's.

He nods and watches you with some mixture of curiosity, irritation, and fondness.

"Pretty good," he says simply.

You beam at the praise, blood-stained lips parting into a wide smile. He feels your tail wag harder and brush against the back of his leg.

The touch is nice. It makes him more conscious of the way you're still holding onto him, your hand curled around his muscle and your hip against his. He's not sure what it is. A silent thank you, a note of understanding, or a pledge of loyalty.

But he doesn't need a thank you, someone to understand him or devote themself to him. He's just doing what he's supposed to.

He slides his arm out of your clutches and gently pats you on the head.

"C'mon, let's get going," he says and starts walking towards the exit.

You trot wordlessly behind him, which he's grateful for. But more than that, he's just happy Scott didn't have anything to say about your sudden bond to him.

Once the jet picked you up from the extraction point, the trip back to the school was a breeze. You mostly keep to yourself while trying to stick close to Logan. He sits you next to him and cleans up your face, but you sleep for most of the actual traveling time to the destination.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until the seat hit your back and the buckles of the seat belt latched over your chest. With that manifestation of security, your eyes began drooping and your head was drifting to your shoulder like it was your center of gravity.

Logan's voice is what wakes you up. It's unclear to you how much time has passed, but that doesn't bother you. You feel him gently jostling you before unbuckling the straps across your chest. He calls your name a few times until your bleary eyes open and focus on his face.

"There you are," he says, "C'mon. We're here."

You still watch him without saying a word. Your hand rubs over your face to try and pull yourself closer to being awake. He watches you before offering his hand.

"I'm not carrying you, so you need to get up," he says in a tone you were becoming familiar with. It sounded irritated but not directly at you. Like this man was just in a constant state of being pissy about something.

You take the offer regardless and let him pull you to your feet. The two of you exit the jet together, him helping you out to ensure you don't trip on the gap between the ramp and the ground.

Once you're out, your eyes widen. You expected a boarding school to be pretty fancy, but this was nicer than any place you'd ever been. The walls stretched up the sky, crafted with bricks and decorated with large glass windows. The path there was paved and bordered with kept plants. You could see beyond that though. The large expanse of the property. So much space to run and do things.

Logan watches your reaction with amusement. "It's a lot to take in when you first get here," he says.

You nod, and your eyes continue to dart around and absorb the sight of everything. Storm and Jean lead the others who were saved off to another part of the building to be reunited with their families or taken back to their lives or even given verifiable resources. But you don't want to go with them.

You grab Logan's hand and look up at him, shaking your head.

His first reaction is to try and pull his hand free of you, but you have a tighter grip than expected. "What? What's the matter?" he asks you while still trying worm his hand out of your finger's lock.

You don't know how to articulate it because what you want is very simple. You want to stay with him. You want to stay here. You don't want to go back out to the world where people point and laugh at you or turn you away from everything. You just don't know how to say that without it seeming weird.

Luckily for you, Scott gives you a bit of help. You're not sure if that's his intention or not, but either way, you're grateful for the help.

"Maybe we should take her to the Professor. He might want to see about her mutation or ask her about that stuff back there," he tells Logan. You can tell from the way Scott speaks that he doesn't really like him too much.

Logan thinks about it for a moment before nodding. Before leading you there, he uses his other hand to pry your fingers off of him. You frown at the loss of connection and shoot him a glare. That brings an actual smile to his face.

"Follow along, pup. Don't need you getting lost," he says as he turns to guide you down the halls of the school.

The sun hadn't even risen, so not too many people occupied the common rooms. You catch sight of a few. They stare back at you, but unlike what you're used to, they don't look at you with disdain or mocking. It's simple, innocent curiosity. The only thing that seems to worry them is the bright red stain going down the front of your shirt.

Inside the room had been an older guy in a wheelchair. The professor talked the nicest out of all the men you'd been around today. When he looked at you, you felt like he understood you. He didn't even seem perplexed like Scott or Logan had. He'd merely said you were "interesting."

He talked to you for a while. He asked similar questions similar to the ones you already answered, but the third round of them got even deeper than the last two. Once he revealed that he could enter your thoughts if he wanted, that made a lot of sense.

Though he didn't really need his ability to understand you. Your experiences were written all over your face, practically sewn into the seams of your clothes.

He could see how, like every mutant, you led a life dominated by rejection. But in a different way than most others of your kind, you were vaguely familiar. Seeing someone with a tongue ten feet long or with blue skin or claws was jarring. It was weird.

But you - you look like a cute puppy. You walk the line between disturbing and endearing.

Charles can also see how you long for belonging even deeper than most. It's as if your mutation gives you the drive to seek out affection, for someone to devote yourself to. He can tell this by the way you linger around Logan.

If he moved an inch, you followed in the same direction. If he looked away, your eyes followed along. You were only settled if he was looking at you, not in danger of leaving your vicinity.

After talking to you for a while, hearing about your abilities and getting to understand your personality, he offers to let you stay at the school. He tells you it might be beneficial for you, and if you don't like it, you're welcome to leave anytime. It's only meant to give you a chance to understand your gifts and learn to control them and use them for good.

Of course, you accept. It wasn't even a question.

"Wonderful. Scott, show her to the extra rooms she can stay in and the shower so she can clean up a bit," Charles says. He watches as your eyes flit to Logan and then Scott. He also sees Scott's uncertainty as to why he was given this job.

But he nods and gestures for you to follow him, which you reluctantly do.

You trail him silently up the stairs, and he gives you a little guide to where everything is. He gestures at the direction of the student wing and the staff wing and then takes you to the latter. He points out the different bedrooms and grabs you a change of clothes on the way to the bathrooms.

He's nice to you. A little stiff, but he still smiles and laughs softly at quips he makes or your skeptical reactions to things. You want to ask him about his sunglasses, but you figure that'd be rude so you refrain. When he leaves you at the bathroom door, he tells you to just call if you need anything cause he's right down the hall.

Stepping inside, you peer around the expansive room. You'd never seen a bathroom so large. It was nice like everything else was in this place. The counter was spotless and smooth. The tile was sleek with a soft mat beneath your feet at the door and waiting for you in front of the shower.

You undress yourself quickly and turn on the water, waiting for it to heat before stepping inside. There's some products on the shelf inside that you use. You lather the soap on your hands and rub it over yourself fast. It felt really good, especially since you hadn't had a proper shower while being held captive. But you still work at a sped up pace. Although the novelty of everything had impressed you at first, you were beginning to yearn to be by Logan again. It wasn't a need that would make you lose control, just a little itch like a bug crawling up the path of your veins.

Downstairs, Charles kept Logan behind in his office so the two could talk. They briefly recap the mission before moving to the subject that was the true reason for the extended conversation.

"It seems she's quite taken with you," the older man starts simply.

"I guess," Logan responds, his voice unamused with the idea.

Charles huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He goes to say something else, but the other man carries on the conversation himself.

"She'll get over it. She's like a little duck following around the first person she sees," he says and crosses his arms.

"I think you underestimate her intelligence, Logan. She's not a helpless animal-"

"I know that," he interjects quickly.

"She's one of us. She's formed an attachment to you for whatever reason. I would like her to stay here for at least for a little while to examine the traits of her mutation. I've never seen any that so closely mimic an already existing animal," he explains, "But I want to know that you're ok with that."

Logan scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be? That doesn't have anything to do with me."

"While she's here, she's most likely going to want to be around you. I just wanted to make sure that's not something you're wholly uncomfortable with."

"Please. I can handle it," he dismisses.

Charles watches him, ever-entertained by how hard he tries to present the idea that he's unaffected. 

"If you say so," he says, "Just try not to scare off too quickly."

"I'll play nice," he says.

A few more words, and he's dismissed. He turns on his heel and heads out the same doors he entered. Just as he does, you glide down the stairs into his field of vision, tail wagging lazily behind you over the waistband of the sweats Scott gave you.

When you see him, it swishes a bit faster and your ears perk up. His eyes narrow.

"What are you doing down here? Didn't Scott show you where to go?" he asks.

You nod and prance down the remaining steps. Truthfully, you'd been seeking the man before your eyes, but you couldn't just say that.

"Am I not allowed to look around?" you ask.

His eyes remain hard on your face. "Aren't you tired? Mauling that guy didn't take anything out of you?"

A subtle pout forms on your lips, and you consider retreating back to the bedroom you'd been given. He clearly wasn't in the mood for you right now.

Logan sees the reaction his words brought on. He feels that little sliver of guilt shifting around inside him. Maybe his phrasing hadn't been the best... but then again why did he give a shit?

"How about we just get you back to bed? I'll show you around more tomorrow," he suggests.

You take what you can get and nod, your features slightly elevating at the form of peace he offers you. He retraces your steps up the stairs and down the hall with you on his heels. He spots the room Scott had picked for you. The door was ajar from how you'd left it to go find him.

He leads you inside but remains in the doorway himself. There really wasn't any reason to stay, so he should probably be leaving...

"Have you been here a long time?" you ask suddenly.

His eyes land on you again. You were perched on the end of your bed that was still fully made up, the comforter tucked in and everything.

"What?" he asks.

"Have you been here long? Scott said he's been here since he was a teenager," you say.

"Oh. No. Only a little while," he says. "I'm still pretty new here too."

That makes you happy, it's obvious from the hope that gleams in your eyes. "Are you like a teacher too? Or... something else?"

"What would that something else be?" he asks with a smirk, taking a few steps into the room with you, "Having a hard time picturing me teaching?"

"Well I just mean-" you try to justify before laughing a little, giving in, "Yeah. I can't really see it."

"Me neither. I'm not a teacher. I just help out sometimes," he says.

He walks even closer to you, causing your head to tilt up to look at him. Now you really looked like a puppy.

This close, he was all you could smell. You could see every individual hair on his forearm. It felt as though you could hear the strong beat of his heart. His eyes pierced into you from above, and you wondered if he was observing you in a similar manner.

"You gonna sleep on top of these blankets?" he asks.

The mention of something else besides him snaps you out of your little Logan-centric daze. You look around at the bedding and then back up at his head. The two styled points of dark hair look like he has two ears of his own mirroring yours.

"No. I'll fix them," you say and stand up to tug them free, "I don't need you to tuck me in."

"I wasn't offering to. I just don't want you getting up and trying to 'look around' again. Don't need you getting lost and wandering to my bed."

The idea brings heat to your cheeks and neck. It sounded nice for so many reasons. But the bed you had now outmatched the hard bottom of the cage you'd been sleeping on, so you weren't going to try and swing for more.

Once the comforter and sheets are peeled down, you climb back on the bed and sit against the pillows. There's a small pause. A puddle of silence pooling between the two of you. You don't know what else to ask, but you feel if you don't say anything he's gonna leave. So you pull out the first thing you can think of.

"What is your actual mutation?"

His brows rise with interest, and he closes the gap between you by sitting on the edge of your bed. Curiosity shines from his eyes onto you, silently questioning why you wanted to know.

"I know you're not actually a robot, but I can still smell the metal and stuff. What does it do?" you ask.

"The metal isn't my mutation," he says.

He raises his fist about a foot away from your face. His fingers are balled up tight against his hand. You cock your head, wondering what he's showing you.

Before you can ask any questions though, three shining metal claws emerge from between his knuckles. They come out slowly, a pace prolonged enough to be considered teasing. Your eyes widen at the sharp points and you scoot back, smooshing the pillows against your head board. All you can wonder is if he didn't take them out earlier or if you really had missed something so monumental.

His laugh rises in volume. "Relax, I'm not gonna cut you."

The claws come to a halt when fully extended. You wait just in case something else is going to happen, but nothing does. You bring your finger up and poke at the hard surface. They were so beautiful but unnatural too. You'd never seen anything like them.

"But I didn't see anywhere for them to come out?" you say softly.

He flexes his hand and extends his fingers, retracting the claws much quicker than they appeared.

"There is no place for them to come out of," he says and offers you his hand.

You frown at the little cuts the sharp rods left in their wake, but like little zippers, they close up. You blink at his hand. All evidence of his mutation was gone.

"So you can heal? And you have claws?" you say more to yourself than him, "Does it still hurt when they come out?"

He nods and watches you examine his hand.

Upon seeing his confirmation, you can't even help what you do next. You pull his limb a little closer and kiss each spot where a claw had emerged. Every phantom cut gets a soft smooch left where it would soon reappear.

"What are you doing?" Logan asks, her arm tensing up on instinct.

You glance at his face before releasing his hand. "Oh... sorry," you say and shrug sheepishly.

To your surprise, he doesn't scold or chastise you, doesn't get up to leave in a hurry. He simply pulls his hand back and gives you another look before saying good night.

"Get some good sleep. Like I said, I'll show you around tomorrow," he says.

You slip down in the bed, resting your head on the plush pillows and pulling the blanket up over your form. He heads out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

A deep exhale leaves his lungs. He shakes some of that tension loose. What had he been doing? It almost felt like some different person had taken over him in there. Another version of himself that didn't have to be reminded to 'play nice.'

The few weeks you're supposed to stay at the school stretches out into a longer timeframe. It'd now been a few months since that day he found you in the cage and set you free. Though that month or so you'd spent locked up turned out to be worth it because you now had a place that made you happier than anywhere you'd lived before. You had a family.

You had Jean and Storm who were helping you train so you could one day go on missions with them. You had the Professor who taught you more about yourself than you had ever thought to ask. Scott was there too.

And of course, you had Logan.

Logan. As much as he tried to seem reluctant, to appear uncaring and nonchalant, he had grown to enjoy your company more with each passing day that you followed him like a shadow.

It was irritating at first. Before, he'd been able to drift through the school relatively unnoticed. Now, every single place he went, he was trailed by whoosh whoosh whoosh. The sound of your tail going back and forth. Anything he tried to do was accompanied by the feeling of two glimmering eyes trained on him. He'd tried to brush you off, but you didn't waver.

"Don't you have anything better to do than stalk me?" he'd ask, shooting a side eye your way.

"No," you'd respond.

"Well, find something."

"I don't wanna."

And who was he to argue with that?

In a way, the bond you seemed to have formed with him was flattering. It seemed like he could do anything, and you'd never view him as anything but the greatest creation to grace this earth. So he just lets you follow him around. He assumes after a while, you'll see him for what he is and lose interest, or you'll just grow bored of him and find something else to be the object of your obsession. Though so far that day hadn't come.

After a while of you always at his side, he started to cave and include you in his little routines.

One day he was doing sit ups at the foot of his bed while you sat nearby. His body rose and fell, abdomen kissing his thighs in regular intervals. But every time he came up, he found himself looking over at you.

"Hey, pup," he said, the nickname he developed for you coming out effortlessly, "C'mere for a second."

Your ears perked up. You weren't usually involved in what he was doing. You scoot over to him and kneel at his feet, awaiting a command. You could be so obedient sometimes it nearly made him feel guilty.

"You wanna help me with something?" he asked. As he expected, you nodded right away, so he continued, "Just hold my feet down. These only work if your feet stay flat. So just make sure they do."

You gave him another dutiful nod and got in position. Your hands held his feet down as he worked out just like he asked. Each time he came up off the ground, you looked at him with a big goofy smile.

That was just the first thing. From then on, the two of you actually did stuff together rather than just going about your things nearby one another. He'd help you train, and you'd help him clean Scott's bike when he finished using it.

Tonight, exhaustion aches in your bones after running around all day. On top of that, you'd had so much stuff to do yourself that you'd barely even seen Logan all day.

When the sun's finally down and the students have all retired to their bedrooms, you find him in the living room. He's leaned back into the couch, nursing a bottle of something. You assume it's not beer since you're at a school, but with how often he lamented about that limitation, you wouldn't put it past him to sneak one in.

You hop over the arm rest and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from him. He looks over at you, not displeased with your presence.

"There you are. I thought you finally got tired of me and found someone else to bother," he teases.

"I could never do that," you reply with the same playful cadence. You scoot a little closer. "I was just super busy today. The Professor was having me talk to some of the students, and then Scott needed me to grab something for him from the shed. It was really hard to find, so it took a while. Then I had to do my own training, and Jean made me try on some sizes for my suit..."

As you chatter on about your day, Logan finds himself nodding along, even occasionally reacting to what you say. He's not rolling his eyes or telling you to leave him alone. It's weird, but he can't say he wants to feel differently.

"Sounds like they're working you like a dog," he says when your story has reached an end.

Your face darkens like it had on the day he met you, shooting him a quick glare as a reminder not to say the forbidden d-word.

"Right, sorry," he corrects, "It just sounds like they're running you ragged. Don't let 'em work you too hard. Scott can get his own shit."

He still didn't understand your hang up about that word. He could call you pup, puppy, or any variation of that, and you'd react with nothing but joy. But utter d-o-g in your vicinity, and he felt like he was at risk of getting his throat chomped on. Luckily, it only takes his small apology for your normal demeanor to make its return.

"It's ok. I don't mind helping. I like having stuff to do," you say and shrug.

"I thought your 'stuff to do' was watching over me," he jokes and leans forward, placing his bottle down on the table.

You're not sure why, but you take that as an invitation to scoot even closer to him.

"I thought you wanted me to find better stuff to do."

"Fair," he chuckles, "Maybe this is one of those things where I'm not gonna realize I miss something until it's gone."

He brings his hand up from the back of the couch to massage the base of one of your ears. The soft fluff feels almost luxurious against the rough pads of his finger tips. He knew you loved the sensation. It had been an accidental discovery, something he did one time as a joke. But the way you melted into the touch had been more than just funny to him.

You lean into it now and nuzzle his palm.

"It was just one day. It's not like a permanent new routine."

"For now. Then soon enough, I'm gonna catch you trailing somebody else with hearts in your eyes," he says and gently tugs your ear.

You laugh at the tug and the stupid words. "You will not. Plus, I don't have hearts in my eyes for you."

"Oh really?" he teases. He leans in, his face hovering a couple inches away from yours. "I think I can see some now."

The two of you stay locked in a stare for a few lingering seconds. He'd never been this close to you before. You'd never heard his voice lower in that way, sounding almost desiring. Heat starts to crawl up from your belly through your chest to your neck. Before it can reach your cheeks, you turn your head to face the tv.

"Shut up," you huff, choosing to play the interaction off as a joke.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his grin. He chuckles and his arm returns to its place behind you, above your shoulders. Quiet blooms between the two of you, kept from being total silence only by the hushed noises of the tv set across the room. It doesn't feel awkward though even with the sudden shyness he'd brought over you.

You angle yourself and lean in so that you're sitting against his side. No words come from him, he simply lowers his arm to sling around your shoulders and keep you there. His thumb idly pets back and forth over the smooth skin of your forearm.

The heat of his body radiates from his side and into you. Makes you feel safe and comfortable. Like you're where you're supposed to be. It's easy to sink into him further and tilt your head to rest on his chest. Before long, your eyes feel a little droopy. Blinking feels sticky, and your mind just wants to retreat to the soft embrace of sleep.

Logan can tell. He's not sure of the feeling this knowledge brings him. Pride? Contentment? Affection? Instead of thinking about it harder, he just pulls you a little closer and lets you drift off. He considers saying something, letting you know he doesn't mind and that you don't have to try and stay up. But nothing comes from him and the quiet continues.

He watches you slowly slip away. Your neck loses the wherewithal to stay upright, and your breaths soften, blowing in and out in a thoughtless rhythm.

The feeling that flows through him takes him by surprise. Pure endearment towards you, not a hint of anything else. He lets you sleep there for the next hour or so. When you're still out cold after that time has passed, he's unsure of his next move. He doesn't want to wake you and shatter the peace that had settled over the room, but he had to head to bed himself and wasn't going to leave you stranded on the couch in the common room.

The light of the tv glows across the two of you as he mulls over his options. When he finally decides, he grabs the remote and shuts the device off, cloaking the room in darkness, spare the distant blinking lights that could be seen through the windows. He rises from the cushions that had molded to cradle his weight, making sure to keep a hand on you to prevent you from slumping over.

This time he doesn't shake you or offer a hand. He reaches around and tucks an arm under your legs. His other supports you across your shoulder blades as he lifts you into his arms. He traverses the furniture with caution, making sure to avoid bumping into a stray corner or tripping on a catch in the rug. Then he moves up the stairs. Your limp body bounces with each step.

He nudges the door open to your bedroom and takes you inside. Your scent seemed to fill the entire room. Every time he took a breath, he got a lungful of the heady smell. Your bedroom was so you now. The way you'd decorated it and splashed your personality over every inch, it'd be hard to believe that just a few months ago it had been so sparse.

What had been a blank bed, covered only by a plain duvet and thin pillows, now held your extra fluffy cushions, a nest of blankets, and your steadily-growing collection of plushies. Trinkets lined your shelves and tables, and you even displayed a few posters over the walls. It was you, all around him.

He walks the few paces to the edge of the mattress before laying your body down on the foamy surface. He drapes a nearby blanket over your form. Even though he's technically accomplished what he meant to, he doesn't leave yet. He lingers like he can't seem to help doing around you.

You're still fast asleep, unaware of the change in locations. He watches a haphazard swallow move through your throat before you settle into the familiar setting.

He finds himself not wanting to go back to his room. He'd been at the school longer than you and never made his own so nice. Really, he didn't think he could make it as nice. But that was just because nothing about him was as nice as you.

When the resolve to leave finally surfaces in him, he reaches out and rubs the base of your ear.

"See you in the morning," he murmurs. Unlike before, the rest of what he wants to say doesn't get tangled up in his throat. "My little puppy girl."

That night won't leave your head for the next week. It almost feels like a dream. You'd woken up in your bed the next morning, assuming that's what it was. The undeniable change in location was the only thing that made your mind accept it as reality.

In the following days, things stayed the same for the most part, though you would have sworn, Logan acted a little less grumpy around you. Only by a microscopic degree, but enough for you to note the shift.

Nothing that big happens though. You don't even repeat the cuddling incident again. You kind of just assume that it was a one time thing. A nice experience, but not one to be repeated.

The memory of it floats through your mind often though. The pulse of his heart beating against your cheek, how you could hear it in your ear clear as day. Your stomach flutters at the thought of him actively pulling you closer, wanting you that close. You can feel your dedication to Logan blossoming into something more. It was already rooted so deep inside you that you didn't think it was possible, but you could feel it. The branches of reverence spreading in your chest and growing into something closer to adoration.

You could feel it now, sitting next to him on the bench in the school's spacious yard. He'd been tasked with watching some of the students for the afternoon, so of course, you tagged along. Shade speckled his face with alternating blotches of sunlight and gray. The stray beams of light made his eyes glow, and his hair shine all pretty. The sounds of the students practicing their abilities clouds the background of your focus, and they become even more distant when he suddenly turns to you.

"You're staring," he teases with that little smirk of his.

Your eyes flutter at the accusation. "No... I was not."

"Yeah you were. Even worse than usual."

"I just was thinking and zoned out," you defend, turning to face forward.

He hums in acknowledgement, obviously not believing your excuse. "Were you thinking about me?"

"You wish."

"I don't have to wish, puppy. You're not a very good liar."

You really weren't. Your tail swished with each beat of this little back and forth. Your ears pinned back to your head, folded over by the guilt of being caught. Everything you were feeling was made apparent by your supposed 'gifts.'

"Well whatever. Even if I was, it's none of your business," you say. A smile pulls at your lips. Your tells weren't solely from your mutation.

"If you say so," he taunts, one last jab before he returns his attention to the kids he was supposed to be supervising.

Nothing he said hinted at anything more than playful banter, but the way he spoke had them wrapped around your heart like unbreakable restraints. The way he said them made you feel like he wanted it this way. Wanted you to hear that smug cadence in your mind for the next few days. Maybe he found you entertaining. Maybe your emotions were a new game he discovered he liked to play with.

Hours later, you're curled up in your bed, by yourself as per usual. Everyone in the school had gone to bed, you and Logan had parted a while ago yourselves. 

Sleep weighs you down to the mattress, but your ears perk up automatically when they register a distant sound of distress. It's faint. If it happened alone, you would've just assumed it was part of your dream and not done anything else. But more follow it.

Your eyes crack open, still glazed with drowsiness as you come to. You listen for the sounds that disturbed you. For a moment, there's nothing. Just the gentle breeze outside your room and the crickets chirping in the cut grass in the yard.

Then it happens again. A normal person wouldn't be able to hear these sounds. They were reserved for you with your enhanced senses. It sounds like grunting and groaning though you can pick up the pained undertone of fear. The worst part of it to you is that immediately you know it's coming from Logan.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, freeing them from the fleece warmth of your blankets. Padding out of the room, you cross the hall to his. You open the door in the specific way so that it doesn't creak and then shut it behind you. Your feet are gentle on the hardwood as they bring you closer to the source of the noise.

Once you're in, it's no mystery. Logan lays on his back in the center of his bed, shoulders twitching in agitation. He mumbles to himself, different words you can't make out. Your head cocks at the sight.

Approaching the side of his bed, you just watch him for a few more moments. When he doesn't wake up, you feel the urge to intervene. It felt wrong watching him suffer. Something pulled at your insides to help him.

You reach out and nudge his bicep. There's no effect. You do it a few more times but still nothing happens. Finally, you actually grip his shoulder and shake him gently, whispering into the darkness a simple "Logan."

That wakes him. No mistake about it. He gasps and snaps up. His claws come out from his hands without a second thought and slash at you. You hop back right away, tripping over your own feet and crashing onto the ground.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. The adrenaline coursing through you wasn't so much out of fear but rather confusion. Your mind was still a bit bogged by sleep itself, and at this moment, you're less concerned with Logan's reasoning and more so the logistics of a potential fight with him. Even though you had been training for the past several months, you had absolutely zero belief that you'd be able to beat him in a fight. Or even really compete for that matter.

Fortunately for you, it doesn't come to that. His eyes recognize you not long after his fists took the swing. You watch as his face morphs into a handful of different emotions in the span of about five seconds.

"I- what- how- I didn't-" he starts before getting a handle on his ability to speak, "I'm sorry."

Your body starts to come down from the brief high when it's clear he's not going to attack. You feel less wound up and let out a sigh. Your eyes remain inquisitive while gazing at him though. What did he dream about that made him freak out like that?

You guess it's not the best time to ask, so instead of pushing your luck, you push up off the ground and get your footing back. You step up to him at the edge of the bed and stand between his thighs. You plan on asking him if he's ok, but his arms reach out and yank you to his chest before you have the chance.

His hold is tight on you. The little half-hugs he'd given you a couple times before didn't compare at all. His arms were locked around you like they never intended to let go. You could hear him panting in your ear, and you could feel his heart thundering against both of your rib cages like it wanted to be released from its chamber.

"You're not hurt, are you?" he whispers.

You shake your head and wrap your arms around him too. The gesture relaxes him a lot, you can feel the tension seep away.

"Are you ok? I didn't mean to bother you, you just sounded like you needed help," you say at the same volume.

"You didn't bother me. I'm ok. I'm sorry. You don't have to worry about me like that."

His skin is warm and clammy against your own. You gently pat his back as some form of silent reassurance. Even if he wasn't as distraught as he had been a few minutes ago, you could tell the events that occurred were gnawing at him.

One of your hands drifts up, and you thread your fingers in his hair. It's like pulling a lever. He exhales deeply and pushes his face more against your neck.

"I'm sorry, pup," he murmurs.

You nuzzle the side of his head, and your heart nearly stops because he reciprocates this gesture with a few of the softest kisses you've ever felt, placed on your throat.

"I'd never hurt you on purpose. You know that."

You nod. Of course you knew that. And you would never say this to him out loud, but you felt so deeply for him, you weren't sure that your perception of him would have changed had his claws landed the strike on you.

Pulling back your head a little, you nudge his so you can see him. Both of your eyes connect for a moment before you lean in and kiss him. His lips are softer than you'd expected. His scent permeates your senses, but it's not one of booze or the brand of cigars he smokes. That's there, but your nostrils sense deeper. You could smell his essence. The way his blood runs hot as your tongue swipes into his mouth.

The kiss grows deeper. No words are said. Neither of you need them. Your fingers tighten on the dark locks of brown hair, and you climb into his lap. His hands land on your hips almost instantaneously. The only sounds between the two of you are sharp exhales and shallow inhales.

"What are you doing, bub?" he murmurs against your lips, breaking the silence. Despite his questions, he wasn't stopping you. Not at all. His fingers dig into your flesh and pull you a little closer.

"Wanna make you feel better. And show you that I know."

You weren't sure what you and Logan were after that night. Boyfriend-girlfriend, friends with benefits, or maybe simple companions. You didn't really care because regardless of the answer, you were happy.

Kissing was the only thing that transpired that night, but that was ok with you. It didn't dampen your outlook on your relationship with him in the slightest. You'd made out for a while, tangling up with each other and the sheets before he pulled back. He didn't want to go further when you both were coming down from all that emotion. And you agreed. You didn't need more. You felt elated from receiving that much affection in the first place. Your tail whacked against the mattress as you curled up to his side and put your head on his sternum to rest.

The next morning though, he had been ready for more. Once he fell back asleep, his dreams had been much more pleasant. He woke up stiff and aching for you, and you were more than happy to provide some relief.

You alleviated that throbbing between his legs multiple times that morning, and you'd been taking care of it at least once a day every day since then.

The team could tell something was going on between the two of you, a deeper bond than your initial affinity for Logan. You walked with a faster wag in your tail, and he seemed less jagged at the edges. Others were less likely to get cut now if they reached for him the wrong way.

Each of your steps also came with a small jingle now since Logan had given you his dog tags. You'd been lying against his side, basking in the afterglow of one of your escapades when he dangled the metal chain between the two of you.

"Want you to have these, pup," he rasped.

You'd looked at him with curiosity swimming in your eyes. Excitement mingled there too though.

He chuckled at the look before boosting your head so he could put them on you. 

"I know my pretty puppy doesn't want to wear a collar for me yet," he teased, getting a pout out of you, "I just want you to have something of mine. You don't even have to wear 'em if you don't want to."

You'd worn them every moment since he gave them to you. Wouldn't take them off for anything. The physical representation of your attachment stayed secured around your neck at all times. The way it made you feel had you thinking a collar would be a pretty nice next step.

It'd been just over a month since you became something more with him. Your tail zips back and forth as you clean up the training room, thinking all of this over. A little smile rests on your features too. Jean helps out nearby, laughing gently at your mood.

"You have it bad," she teases.

Your head turns, and you grin, exposing those elongated canines. Shrugging, you prance over to help her finish the area she was tidying up.

When the two of you get everything back into shape, you head out into the sleek hallway back towards the main part of the mansion. Your shoes squeak against the tile as you bound towards the doors.

Entering the primary floor from the rooms below always brought a bit of adjustment for your eyes. The lights downstairs shone bright, fluorescent white. Coming back to the soft lamps of the common rooms had you blinking while your pupils scanned the room for Logan.

You catch sight of him standing near the two large doors that acted as entrance to the school. Right now, you can only see him from behind, but you spot Charles next to him. It looks like they're talking to someone, though the former's bulky frame prevents you from seeing who.

Your legs carry you over to the pair. You come up on the side of Logan that Charles doesn't occupy. Tucking yourself under his arm, you look up at him first before your eyes land on the other person speaking.

The sight of her makes your head tilt to the side just the slightest. Every feature on her embodies beauty. Her red hair, similar to Jean's in color, sits slicked back on her head. Deep blue coats every inch of her body. Seductive yellow eyes flit between the two men she's conversing with, and now that you had appeared, they cast to you as well.

You'd seen her before around the mansion once or twice, and you didn't really trust her. She didn't seem like a bad person, but she worked opposite the team. Even though Logan had assured you she was just offering some information about a common goal, you didn't feel confident that Mystique's motives were of such pure intent.

Still, you don't interrupt the in-progress discussion. You stay quietly pressed to Logan's side, tail coasting against the back of his leg. He doesn't wrap his arm around you as tight as normal or rub between your ears like he often did, but he gives you a little pat on the shoulder to acknowledge your presence.

Mystique finishes listening to Charles' point before directing her full attention to you.

"I knew you all wore uniforms, but you two didn't tell me your team had a little mascot too."

You bristle at the comment but try to remain composed. You were better than a thoughtless animal that snapped at a little poke. Charles hadn't even noticed your presence. He looks over at you and realizes what Mystique's quip referred to. He introduces you briefly.

"She's new to the team and is still training, but she's not a mascot," he concludes.

"So more like a stray then? Cute. I never would have guessed you wanted a pet," she says to Logan.

Tension creeps up your spine, and you stand up straight, pulling away from Logan's side.

"I'm not his pet," you huff and look at her. Your pouty way of asserting yourself probably didn't do much to project the image of independence you wanted. "I'm-"

You go to continue, but she cuts you off.

"You really should teach your dog not to bark, Logan. It's not polite."

That sparks a small growl in your throat before you can shut it down. Her eyes widen in amusement which only makes it feel worse for you. The most humiliating part is that you know all of this is inauthentic. She's doing it for the purpose of riling you up, getting you upset and making you feel bad. You know this, but your reaction gets the better of you.

Before you can do anything regrettable, Logan's hand curls over your shoulder. He keeps you rooted where you stand, quelling the flames of conflict before they have a chance to spread.

"Back off," he says, quick and curt with Mystique. He turns to Charles next, still keeping his voice firm. "You don't need me to hear the rest of this. I think I'll let you wrap it up."

Charles nods, knowing it would be better for him to focus on removing you from the potentially volatile situation instead of being another observer for some intel.

Logan guides you away from them, hand moving from your shoulder to the back of your neck as he takes you upstairs. The anger inside you melts away with the growing distance between you and Mystique. Only the stain of embarrassment remained.

"I'm sorry," you say. Your words sound compressed, the weight of your shame hanging off them.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. She wanted you to get upset, so that's what she got."

The pair of you move through the rest of the hall without another word. You go into your room. Once the door is shut and it's just the two of you between the four walls, you stomp over to the bed and flop down onto the mattress.

Darkness clouds your vision while your face rests against the blankets. Your tail rests against your thigh limply. You hear him coming over and then feel his hand rubbing your leg near the lifeless appendage. The mattress dips as he sits next to you.

"C'mon. You're ok."

You shuffle around so your head is resting in his lap. "I looked pathetic."

He sighs. One of his hands rubs your back while the other pets your head. "You did not."

"Yeah I did."

"No. You didn't," he says, "You didn't do anything that bad. No one's gonna think less of you cause you got a little mad about someone talking shit to you."

You know he's right. Everyone here had an experience like that. It's how most of them ended up here, reacting even worse than you had. It still doesn't make you feel any less dumb. A deep exhale seeps from your lungs.

"I just don't understand why everyone looks at me like that. We all get it bad enough from humans, but then some of the others look down on me too. I'm the same as all of you. I don't say Mystique looks like a smurf cause she's blue, so I don't see why I have to get called a pet," you huff.

He smiles a little and scratches your ear, letting you vent.

"Even you guys looked at me different at first. I know you did. I'm not the only mutant with physical stuff. Why does it have to be a whole thing with me?"

"You're just a little different, bub. You confuse people, but it's not your fault. Nothing about you is less than any other mutant. Mystique doesn't even think that. She was trying to get under your skin."

"Yeah..." you say with a little dejection in your tone, "I still just wish people would treat me like normal. Or at least normal for a mutant."

"I know you do, baby," he hums and pats your arm.

By this point, you're far enough away from the harshness of what happened downstairs. You sit up and scoot closer to him crawling into his lap. He wraps his thick arms around you and rubs your back.

"There's my girl," he murmurs and pecks your temple.

You nuzzle him like a puppy seeking more affection from its owner. Your backside rests on his lap, your arms snug around his abdomen.

"I'm just curious though, pup. What's the big thing with being called dog? It's not that different than puppy," he says, a hint of caution in his voice. He figured now was as good a time as any to ask. He knew it was the main part of what Mystique said that set you off.

You don't react with anger or defensiveness which pleases him. Instead, you shrug.

"Cause. Puppy sounds cute. Dog is just so... bleh," you say, "It makes me sound like a gross animal that someone has to wrangle."

His eyebrow rises. You can see the amusement in his eyes, but he successfully kills his laugh before it leaves his throat.

"Mmm. Makes sense. Can't have anyone thinking you're gross."

"Exactly," you say and kiss his cheek, "You get it. I just... I don't wanna be your pet, I wanna be yours."

You breathe out the words and push yourself closer on his lap. He appeases your desire for less space and pulls you to his chest.

"You are mine. You don't have to worry about that," he says.

"And I still wanna be your little puppy."

He chuckles. His head ducks down to your neck to lay a few kisses there. One of his palms drifts down to gently knead the dough of your ass.

"You also are my little puppy. My little puppy that follows me everywhere. Mine to hold and love on. Mine to play with. Mine to deal with when she gets bratty."

The last word comes out teasing and brings a happy sound out of you. "I wasn't being bratty before. She started it," you say, playing along.

"Hmmm, you're right. Maybe fussy's a better word," he mutters and nips at the soft flesh of your neck.

"Nuh uh. I was being totally normal," you say and nudge at his face with your nose, getting a little squirmy on his lap.

He responds by flipping you over onto your back. The mattress creaks with the bout of pressure and a squeal leaves your throat. You can feel his length against your hip, half-hard already from how you had wiggled on his lap.

"Oh please," he says, "Why do you think I brought you up here? I can tell when my pup needs to calm down. And I know just how to do that, don't I?"

You whimper and nod. He grins before returning his lips to your neck. He nips a few love bites onto the delicate area, drawing little whines from you. His hands hold you in place and move with your body's wriggling. He gropes at your hips and waist, paws at your tits, and slides them around to massage your ass.

"Such a good girl. So responsive for me," he coos.

The condescending affection sends a pulse down to your clit, and your hips roll up to meet his. One of your legs hooks around his waist to pull his body closer.

"Logan. Don't tease," you pout.

Your whiny plea doesn't garner any sympathy from him though. He laughs against your neck and pulls back to smirk down at you.

"My little puppy needs to learn some patience. You think if you don't get my dick in seconds that it's teasing," he taunts.

You whine again and press your leg down on him. He doesn't make any move to pull his cock out though. One set of his fingers comes up to your jaw, directing your lips to an angle where his can land on yours. He kisses you nice and deep, swallowing up any bratty urges that were springing around inside your head. His tongue is warm and soft, gentle against yours.

Meanwhile, his freehand does start to slide down below. It travels beneath the waistband of your bottoms. His warm fingers glide over the plush skin of your pelvis and slot between your lower lips to find your swollen nub. He flicks at it, instantly getting a mewl from you.

You can feel his smug smile against your mouth, but you don't have much time to react to it before his middle finger starts swirling around your bud. Your leg releases his body as it squirms with your other on the mattress. You moan into his mouth and boost your hips into his touch, wanting more of that blissful friction.

"Sweet girl," he coos. The words are muffled by your skin, but you could pick those syllables out of any lineup. "That's your favorite spot, isn't it? Always gets you wriggling for me like a little puppy."

"Mhm," you whimper with a faint nod.

Your heels dig into the mattress to give you some leverage to push your hips up so he can tug your pants off. He takes the opportunity and flings them off the bed. With you bare to him like that, he leaves your lips and moves down. He pulls your top off next and smooches between your breasts and over your tummy before landing between your legs.

He kneels on the floor at the edge of the mattress. His hands hook around your thighs and pull you in his direction.

"C'mere, baby. Give me that puppy cunt. Gotta get it all wet, so it can take my cock."

With that, he buries his head between your thighs. You gasp and throw your head back. Your hands fly to his head to grab at the two dark points of hair.

Logan gives his all to the task of pleasuring you. Whether it was his cock or his mouth, you were never getting anything less than his best. That's obvious right now as he eats you out like it's all he has to live for. He laps at your poor little clit before sucking it into his mouth. It gets some good suction from his lips before he pulls away and licks a broad stripe over your cunt.

He prods his tongue at your entrance, pushing the soft appendage against your hole. You whine more, and he feels your heels dig into his back as they had the mattress. Little expletives float from your mouth into the air as you experience such a rush of euphoria.

"Taste so good, pup. So fuckin' sweet," he mumbles. His lips open and close over your pussy, making out with it.

You rock your hips back and forth, essentially humping his face. He groans and only works harder. Your cute reactions only spurred him on. He twists his tongue just how he'd learned you liked and uses the perfect amount of pressure to get you gushing for him. Your arousal begins to coat his chin, his dark facial hair glistening with your wetness.

"Nice and wet. I'm just gonna slide right in, huh baby?"

"Yeah," you pant. Your hips buck when his nose bumps your clit, but he keeps you held in place.

He kisses your clit before dragging his tongue over you anymore. The soft touch pulls a whimper from you. Your brain starts to get all muddled and hazy. The dreamy feeling always took over when he had you like this. He knows it's coming on too. He can tell by the sudden softening of your movements. You're less jerky and more fluid in how you fidget.

"Oh, that's it. I think my pretty puppy's ready for me," he says, voice smooth on your ears.

He wags his tongue over your little bundle of nerves a few more times before standing to undress himself. His shirt comes off first, dropped to the floor with your garments. His pants are next to go, crumpled on the ground and kicked off his ankles.

Crawling back on top of you, his larger figure boxes you in on the soft surface. His cock is fully hard by now, red and angry, leaking desire from the tip. He guides it to your center and rubs it through your soaked folds.

A soft grunt leaves him as your nectar coats his shaft and drips onto his balls a little too. He only slides it against you a couple times, not wanting to waste the stimulation humping when he could be nestled deep inside.

He brings his tip down to your hold and pushes it in. Your walls accept the familiar intrusion and he groans at the comfort of your velvet walls contracting around him. He pushes his length in all the way until he bottoms out.

Then, adjusting himself and gripping at your hips, he starts to thrust. The motions start as gentle rocks. Taps of his pelvis against your ass. You flutter around him. Moans leak from you, and he smiles at the obvious pleasure coursing through your body.

He fucks you deep, just how you always asked for it. You weren't concerned with whining for harder and deeper right now. This was enough. The feeling of his cock buried in you soothed you like nothing else. Your eyes roll back and puffs of air come from your nostrils.

"Fuck, honey. Feels like I can barely last with you," he grumbles.

"Can't even think when I'm with you," you babble.

Your arms come up to pull him closer, and he lets you. He presses his body into yours, in-turn, shoving his cock as far into you as physically possible. You cry out with the pressure. It was the best kind. Deep and satisfying. To the point that you can feel it in your tummy every time his belly pushes on yours.

"You may not be my dog, baby, but one day you're gonna be my perfect breeding bitch," he grunts.

Your jaw goes slack, eyes drooping with lust. Your head tilts back and he leans into yours more.

"Gonna have you full of me forever. Always gonna be mine."

You can't even respond. Your mind isn't coming up with any coherent response. All you can do is whimper and whine like the needy pup that you are.

"This is what you need sometimes, puppy. Need me to stretch you out on my cock. Get all those thoughts out of your head. Cause puppies don't have to think. Not when you have someone like me taking care of you."

Your thighs start quivering, a sign you were reaching your peak. He knows this and drills into you harder. His balls slap against you every time he pistons his hips. His heated skin rubs against yours. He occupies all your senses, overloading you with him.

"Logan... gotta... gonna cum," you whine.

"Then cum for me," he mumbles simply, "Cum all over my cock, and I'll be right behind you."

You nod. Your back arches up. It takes you a little more, but when you get there, you crash into the throes of release. A sharp yelp bursts from you. Your feet kick a little and your legs press against his sides in an attempt to shut him out.

You get so fucking tight when you cum. Your hole clenches around him, calling out to him to spill every drop of his seed inside your wanting orifice. He growls and drops his head in your neck. He feels it building between his hips. The pressure grows until he can't take it anymore. It snaps and the flood gates open.

He bites at your neck, not hard enough to break the skin but with enough need to leave a little mark. Hot, sticky cum shoots out of him in thick ropes. Warmth fills your insides and you feel like you're sinking into the mattress below you. Both of you are panting with the intensity of the high.

You've already come down by the time he's starting to. After he nuts, Logan tends to get a little sappy. His arms pull you in tighter and he pecks at your neck a few times more muttering something unintelligible about his baby puppy.

"So what do you think?" you ask and twirl into the room, showing off your new outfit.

It matched his. Black leather snug on your body, lined with the same gold on the seams of Logan's. The bold X that shown on his belt could be found on the zipper of your top, dangling against your chest.

He smiles at you, standing from the bed to walk over and get a better view.

"Looks pretty good," he says upon approaching, "Seems a little tight though. You got room for your tail in that thing?"

You laugh at his joke and spin around again, showing the back where the suit had accommodated for your tail to poke through. It whips back and forth before you turn to him again.

"Just perfect for you then," he says and pulls you close, patting your ass and kissing your forehead, "Look at you. An official member of the team."

You nod and struggle not to bounce all around the room with the excitement vibrating through your cells.

"We're gonna be like so totally cool together," you say.

"Yeah. Totally," he imitates affectionately. He cups your jaw, watching your cheeks squish in and your lips puff out. Leaning down, he puts his mouth on yours in a soft kiss. "You're gonna do great."

The words come out as a whisper against your lips. One of your canines slips over your bottom lip as you take it between your teeth. But the display of timidity only lasts a second.

"I know," you beam.

Locking your fingers around his palm, you drag him to the door and out into the hall. Your arm makes his swing as he walks along behind you. He rolls his eyes lovingly at your confident display, but he can't keep his gaze off your happy self. He lets you pull him without resistance.

Now it would be his turn to follow you.

[pseudowho]

You and Kento bustled through the kitchen, and with your arms full of plates, you couldn't resist giving the top of Yuuji's head a nuzzle and a kiss as you passed.

Yuuji smiled at you both, full and warm for the first time in years. You and Kento felt his eyes on you as you weaved past each other, in a practiced after-dinner-clean-up Tango.

"Ah...hey, Nanamin, I-- I've got, uh...I've got a, uhm..."

Kento's interest was piqued. He stopped washing up and, with one raised fine eyebrow, turned to regard Yuuji while he dried the suds off his forearms.

"What is it, Yuuji?"

Yuuji looked awkward. Eventually, he stuttered out through a sheepish grin.

"I've uh...I've got a date tomorrow, so I won't be home for dinner."

A gasp. A smash!clinkclinkclink as you dropped a mug to the floor, and Kento closed his eyes in wounded resignation for the death of his favourite mug. You stepped across him, pressing your palms to the counter, wild-eyed at Yuuji.

"A date?"

"Uh...y-yea--"

"A date date?"

"...I...Nanamin, I'm scared--"

"--she can't hurt you, Yuuji--"

"A date!"

You could barely contain your excitement; Kento huffed, plucking pieces of porcelain from the floor, while you squished Yuuji's cheeks and cooed.

Yuuji barely escaped in one piece that evening before bed, grilled for any piece of information you could get your hands on. Eventually, he escaped, the lock clicking behind him as he shut his bedroom door.

Flopping onto your back into bed beside Kento, with enough force to make his reading glasses bounce on his nose, you sighed with one dramatic arm across your forehead.

"I'm just so happy for him, Kento."

A warm little smile; a folding of the book. "Yeah. Yeah, me too. Did he say who it was?"

"You know, of all the things I asked him, I didn't ask him that."

A chuckle, a hum...a silence. A rustle of pages. A gentle removal of reading glasses, and Kento looked over you with quiet scrutiny, as if your state of undress in a t-shirt and nothing more stirred memories for him.

You blinked up at him, "...what's wrong?"

Kento's nose flared, and he laid down beside you, switching the light off. You could hear him blushing in the dark.

"Do you think Yuuji's a virgin?"

You felt a thud of realisation, and answered, "I...should think he probably is. I...what should we..."

"Don't worry," Kento answered, clipped and looping an arm over your waist, "I can handle that."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Yuuji. If you have a moment, could you come and speak to me, please?"

You felt an alarm bell in your soul. The sun was setting, on the evening of Yuuji's date, but Kento was still fully dressed. He'd even buttoned his suit jacket up and redone his tie. His pocket rustled. You could have sworn you saw a droplet of sweat drip down his temple.

You paused your murder documentary...and watched, for this would surely be more horrifying. Yuuji leaned round the bathroom door, innocently curious, and padded over with his hands in his pockets. He pulled out his phone.

"Ah...y-yeah, I think they'll be here in a minu--"

"Sit down. Please. Yuuji."

You could have sworn Kento left dents in the top of the chair that he grasped. Yuuji sat slowly, wary, looking between you and Kento. From your place on the sofa, you shrugged. Kento spoke.

"You're...a young man now, Yuuji."

"Ah...yeah. I-I guess I am. Thank--"

"--and sometimes young men have...urges."

You wished for death, but would take the entertainment before you expired. Yuuji's blush started at his chin, and climbed slowly upwards, a sun-ripening peach.

"...Nanamin. Please, you-- you don't have to do--"

"--and it's important to understand the difference between lust, and love."

"Oh god, Nanamin, I'm begging you--"

"--and while it's only natural to follow your urges, it's important to do so responsibly--"

"--Mrs.Nanamin, I'm scared--"

"--he can't hurt you, Yuuji--"

Kento pulled the rustling packet from his pocket, and placed it before Yuuji on the table. The room was thick with silence. Yuuji spoke, his voice breaking and his soul sweating.

"...Nanamin, please say that's candy--"

"I've bought you these condoms--"

"--please just let me die, Nanamin--"

"--ribbed, dots, big, small, strawberry I think--"

"--please-- I have to go--"

"--and I only ask that you're sensible and treat your partner with the respect and dignity they deserve--"

"--please treat me with the respect and dignity I deserve and just kill me Nanamin--"

"...and be home by midnight."

Silence. You had held your breath through the whole thing, and held one hand over your mouth. You studiously avoided Yuuji's gaze. Yuuji's mouth puckered, staring up at Nanami, who looked as serious as a car crash.

Yuuji's phone rang. He snatched it up, and made for the door. Kento called after him, mild, "Your condoms, Yuuji--"

"--oh well shit yeah can't forget those, fuck--"

"--language, Yuuji--"

Yuuji stood at the door, considering answering back. He took a single deep breath. He swallowed hard, and stopped himself from scarpering immediately, and turned back to Kento.

"Hey, uh...was that, erm...was that difficult for you, Nanamin?"

"It was the worst thing I've ever done in my life."

"Yeah, it--it felt it, uhm..." Yuuji waggled the bag of condoms with a smirk, pocketing them, "Thanks, dad. Nobara and Megumi are waiting. We'll go for a date, and the other idiot's our chaperone apparently."

As the door clicked closed, Kento released one great heaving breath, and arched back with his hands over his face, releasing an enormous, animalistic groan of agony.

You bubbled over, snickering, and traced one toe up Kento's thigh from behind.

"...oh hey, Mr.Nanami, sir, can you teach me about the birds and the bees--"

"Quiet."

[patrophthia]

mini skirt | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x reader

wc: 3.5k

genre: smut (minors DNI), fluff, best friends to lovers, meddling blaise zabini just coz, they’re in love 🤢🤢, self indulgent im so sorry for the person i am

smut tags: dry humping, coming untouched, (very little) oral sex, come eating, unprotected sex (don’t do this!!), fingering, size kink, breeding kink, bulge kink, cream pie, so much dirty talk oml, big dick theo 😞, reader being shorter than theo, reader wearing a mini skirt, lots of cussing

summary: blaise zabini’s idea of how to play matchmaker might be different from the traditional way of doing it but at least you ended up getting dicked down, so you guess his method works too.

Blaise Zabini's idea of playing match maker is whispering to you —in a not so quiet way, that he'd heard 'Nott's got a big dick' and though you swatted him away. Face disgruntled, mumbling about how you did not want to know about your best friend's private parts. You're terrible enough of a person for your eyes to drop to his crotch when he sat down on the couch opposing yours.

There's a call of your name, once, twice. Before Theodore leaned forward, his voice loud enough for your eyes to tear itself from his thighs to his eyes. You gulped, hoping —hoping that he thought you'd blanked out and just happened to be staring at a very unfortunate spot. "Hmm?"

Theodore's held onto your gaze, lazying back onto his coach. "You okay? I asked if you wanted to head back up but you didn't answer."

"Head back up?" You repeated. "Head where?"

He eyes you suspiciously. "To your dorm?" Theodore gets up from his seat and leans down to crouch beneath you, staring up at you. "Or mine?"

You blink. Mind running in all kind of ideas —save for the ones you knew he meant when he asked you this question. You shift slightly in your side, scanning the Slytherin's common room as the party rage on; it's nothing too big, a get together between all seventh year supplied with alcohol —that Draco definitely did not buy just to impress the golden boy, not at all.

"I'm pretty sure I saw Draco take Harry up to your dorm, and neither of them look like they're exhibitionists." You say off handedly, looking down at him. "Besides, I'm actually enjoying myself here."

And to prove yourself, you get up from your seat; pulling your mini skirt low enough to cover your ass. Theodore, despite having every chance to peer underneath it, remains respectful as he plays with the hem of your skirt. "You are?"

"You aren't?" You ask back, trying not to squirm from the way his finger brushes against your thigh. Salazar this was your best friend for shit's sake, knowing that he could hypothetically have a big dick should not turn you on as much as it was.

Theodore shakes his head, slowly, almost as if he was in a haze as he quietly tells you. "Not really."

"Let's head up then," you tell him, and though both of your voices are low —barely even audible considering how loud Mattheo decided to play his music. Theodore was able to understand you perfectly, picking himself up as he used your waist as his guide. "Come on."

His pinkie finger catches onto yours as he gets onto his feet, him towering over you the slightest bit. And though, Theodore and you leaving a party early to turn in for the night was a sight your friends were used to by now —knowing that nothing ever did came out of leaving the two of you alone to your own devices. Something about how Theodore was looking at you makes them think that that might just change tonight.

But, they regress and bid the two of you goodnight with a few sporting playful frowns on how you never stay with them until the party actually ends.

You only smile, leading Theodore up the stairs to your dorm like every other night. Once in the comfort of your room, you sit yourself down on your bed, patting the spot for besides you for Theodore to take. He did as told, melting into your touch as you brush his hair back. "How much did you drink?"

His eyes are shut, face leaning into the palm of your hand as his own grips onto your skirt, tugging you closer to him. "Just those two shots we took when we first went down."

You hum, letting him pull you to him. "Did you smoke?" Theodore shakes his head slightly, before opening his eyes back up at you. You laugh lightly. "Then what's up with you tonight? I'm always the one dragging us back."

"Just tired, I guess." He murmurs.

"You guess?" You ask him, standing up —letting his hands fall where it'd been trailing up your skirt back to his lap, lingering slightly on what sits above it. "When are you ever not tired?"

Theodore laughs at your words, eyes crinkling as he did so. "When I watch you play quidditch," he says, pushing himself up to press his back against the head of your bed. Watching as you shuffle towards your wardrobe, picking out a pair of sweats along with two shirts he'd left at your room. "Or when you're drunk out of your mind and I'd to have to play pretend as your boyfriend and take care of you."

You snort at his words, picking out a pair of shorts for yourself. "You don't have to pretend to be my boyfriend to take care of me."

"Mhmm," he hums from his spot, lounging lazily as you walk up to his side, the change of clothes in hand. "But it's more affective that way." His hand finds its way to your hips, pulling you closer to him. "And I like it. I like pretending to be yours."

There's a split second where his eyes falters, looking at you almost nervously as he waits for you to respond. "You do?"

"Mhmm," he hums, pushing himself up to sit straight. "More than anything."

It's nauseating to see him look at you —eyes lacking their usual stoic and disinterest to instead be replaced by lust and adoration.

Without thinking twice, you leaned down meeting his lips halfway as your eyes flutters shut. And though seated, Theodore was still tall enough to kiss you back with ease. Letting you melt into the feeling of his soft lips moving slowly and desperately against yours.

"Fuck," Theodore mutters breathlessly, he pushes against your hand; dropping your (mostly his) clothes to the floor. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."

"What?" You giggle, letting him pull you onto his lap. "Kiss me?"

"To kiss you again," He murmurs, attaching his lips back onto yours; a soft whimper slipping out of his lips when his clothed cock brushes against your core through his swift movements.

Fuck, Blaise was not lying.

In between your legs, underneath beige slacks, Theo's giant cock ruts up to you. You gasp into his mouth. "Ah—" you try to catch your breath. "—fuck, Theo. You've been wanting to kiss me since we were thirteen?"

"Mhmm," he hums, long slender hands gripping onto your waist before he slides one underneath your shirt and lays it flat against your tummy. His free hand, resting on your thigh, guiding you down onto him. "You're the only girl I ever want to kiss."

It's silly, you know it is —especially when his cock was pressing into your cunt, only separated by a thin layer of clothing— and yet you can't help but smile up at him, almost giggling when you ask him. " 's that why you asked me to be your first kiss?"

"Mhmm." He's smiling when he kisses you. "Can you blame me?" His tongue licks at your top lips, quick and gentle, trying to gauge on what you tasted like. "Prettiest girl at Hogswart and she was willing to be my first kiss."

His hand moves grips onto your waist, his touch blazing hot. "... Flatterer," you say, a playful pout prominent on your lips.

He chuckles, pressing his lips back onto yours, hand moving from your thigh to tug at your shirt. When you nod, Theodore pulls away just enough for him to take your shirt off and toss it Salazar knows where.

He doesn't even try to hide his staring, canting his hips upwards as he held you down. "Can you feel that?" He asks breathlessly, almost whining as he humps against you. "Can you feel how hard you make me?"

You could only moan, nodding dumbly as you rolled your hips. "Fuck—" he says against your lips, "—how'd you get even prettier, baby?"

And despite how hot —how nauseating it is to feel his boner pressing onto your wet cunt, you can't help but giggle at his words, at how turned on he got just at the sight of your tits. "It's just boobs."

"It's your boobs." He hand goes up behind you, making quick work at the clasps before kissing your chest, licking at your nipples; his hips not halting in its movement. "So so pretty."

His hand slips down, going underneath your skirt to knees at you thigh. "Shirt—" you roll onto him, breathless each time you feel just how hard he was. "—shirt, Theo."

Though incoherent, Theodore still understood you enough to pull his shirt off of himself before attaching his lips back onto you. His tongue glides against yours, swallowing your moans up when he bucks particularly hard.

It’s humiliating how the simple act of humping, combined with Theo’s hand playing with your tits, pinching and rolling your nipple between his long fingers with his tongue exploring your mouth has you writhing on top of him.

"Theo, ah—" you whine, hands gripping onto his shoulders to steady yourself, a familiar warmth building in your stomach. "— wait, fuck!"

Theodore's hips coming to a halt, as he watch you cum on top of him —in awe, without him even having touched you. "Did you just… ?"

You whine, pressing your face against his bare shoulder to hide just how embarrass you were. Theodore pulls you back, looking at you with what you could only assume was love. "Did you just come, baby?"

You nod bashfully, hands going to cover your face just for him to pin both of them down. "So cute, so so pretty." He kisses you roughly, rutting up to you. "Gonna fuck you nice and full, how’s that sound?"

Theodore only frowns when you nod, always having been the talkative one in your relationship. “Words, baby. That sound good to you?”

“Ah!” Your panties stick to your cunt uncomfortably, feeling all too messy when he grinds his cock onto you. “Good,” you whine, “ ‘s good.”

Theodore smiles, pressing a quick kiss onto your lips as a reward. His hand trails down to your thighs, flipping your skirt up before groaning at the sight of his beige slacks soiled by your slick and cum. "Look at the mess you made, didn’t even have to touch you.”

Sliding your panties to the side, Theodore runs two fingers down your slit. "Even your cunt's pretty," he murmurs, bringing his finger up to his mouth to licks at your juices. "You taste even better."

You're pouting as you watch him play with your pussy, fingers pressed onto your clit, going back in for another taste before you finally move down his crotch, just enough for you to palm at his cock.

"Fuck—" he whimpers, hips bucking onto your hand.

Feeling proud you pulled such a reaction out of him, you reach for his belt, lifting yourself up off of him as he helps rid himself of his slacks. Pulling back his boxers, you will yourself not to drool over the sight of his long and thick cock, milky from the precum leaking from its tip.

Your hand moves on its own, wrapping around the base of his hard cock only to find that your hand was too small to wrap all the way around him. "Why didn't you tell me your dick was huge?."

"You want me to —fuck—" Theodore whines, cock twitching in your hand as it begged for you to move. "You want me to tell my best friend about the size of my cock?"

"Yeah?" You move your hands up, thumb running along his tip. "Biggest dick I've ever seen."

"You never told me you had —fuck, baby— never told me you had a perfect cunt either." Theodore moans, the sight in front of him feels like it came straight out of a porno. His best friend and her small hands playing with his cock, tits out with only her tiny skirt stopping him from fucking her into the mattress.

You giggle softly before leaning down to take him inside your mouth. "Fuck!" Theodore choked out, hips roughly thrusting into your mouth. He's too big for you to fit in entirely in your throat and he knows it. And he's too close to cumming in your mouth to keep you were you are.

His hand pulling your head up and away from his cock swiftly. His eyes are shut, head leaning back against your headboard as he breathes heavily.

Your eyes are teary when he opens his eyes back up, and he wills himself not to think about how it's the result of him fucking your face. Theodore brings you up to sit between his legs, kissing you desperately, groaning when he tastes himself on your lips.

Your hand goes back to grab at his length and he whines, pressing his face into your neck and squirms underneath your touch. "Wait, fuck—" his hand goes to stop you, brain going dead as you pumped his cock. "—fuck, fuck wait."

Theodore moves away from your touch, pressing your hand down onto your mattress as he heaves heavily. "Shit— Next time," he whines, "we can do all that next time," he murmurs against your neck, pulling his head away to look at you, he adds: "but I need to fuck you. Please, just let me fuck you. I'll do anything to feel your cunt and fill you up nice and full, please baby."

And when he pleads for you so nicely, who were you to deny him anything? He kisses you again, laying you down on your back, whispering soft thank you’s as he presses open mouth kisses down your body. Slender hands roaming around as he tries to map you out. It's only when Theodore flips your skirt up, ripping away your panties to give himself a full view of your throbbing pussy did you realize what he's about to do.

"Hey, I liked those!"

"I'll buy you more, baby." You're dripping in front of him and he think he might be losing his mind. "Need to eat you out first."

"Thought you wanted to fuck me," you whine, gasping softly when he slides his fingers over your pussy, "why can you play with —fuck."

You pout at him, not expecting him to slide his finger inside you while you talked. "Why can you— ah! —play with me when I can't play with you."

"Not playing baby, just stretching you out," he tells you with a soft smile, leaning over to kiss your pout away. "Not gonna fit unless we stretch you out."

" 's fine," you whimper, feeling him slip another finger in, fucking into you slowly. "it'll fit just fine."

"You sure?" He picks up his pace, long fingers reaching places your own never could. "Don't wanna hurt you."

" 's fine," you moan when he slips a third finger into your cunt, "don't care if it hurts, just wanna feel you."

Theodore pulls out, bringing his fingers to his lips to taste you once more. Moving back up, Theodore grabs at a pillow, placing it beneath your lower back to elevate your cunt. Slowly, he guides his dick into you, gasping at the feeling of his thick head stretching you open.

"Fuck—" Theodore pushes in deeper, pausing when he feels you clenching impossibly tight around him "—your cunt's sucking me in so good."

The burn is delicious, his cock tearing you open from within, stretching you out to take him into you. "So full," you whine, pressing your head into your sheets as he slides in even deeper into you. " 's too much."

"I know, baby," he murmurs, rubbing slow circles onto your thighs, "just a little more, I know you can take it."

You whine pathetically, feeling him fuck the last few inches snuggly into you. "Ah!" He hasn't even moved and you're already breathless, feeling him in your stomach. “Fuck me, Theo. Fuck me nice and full.”

“You want me to fuck your small cunt nice and full?” Theodore pulls out entirely, leaving just his tip in your cunt before roughly thrusting back in, hands on your hips as he pounds into you. "I’ll fuck it nice and full for you, maybe even put a baby in you."

And when your pussy grips his cock at his words, Theodore drives into you even harder. “Put a baby in me, please.”

“Yeah? You want that?” He watches as your tits bounce with each harsh thrust. “You want to carry my baby? Have your pretty tits grow bigger? You want that?”

“Yes,” you cry out, eyes screwed shut, the pain of his cock splitting you open mixing with pleasure. “Yes, ah— want it.”

“Fuck—” Having just about enough, Theodore pushes your mini skirt up your stomach giving him a full view of how well he's fucking his thick cock into you. The mound of your pussy bulging as it makes room for his dick to spear into your cunt.

"See that baby? See how good your cunt’s at taking my cock?" He asks, his hand grabbing yours to press down below your navel. "See how good I'm fucking you?"

You can only moan, crying out his name when he presses your hand down onto the bulge in your stomach, pushing his own dick out of your pussy. "Feel how deep my cock is inside of you?"

“Gonna be so easy for me to breed you,” he murmurs, wrapping your legs around his waist to fuck himself even deeper into you. “Want me to breed you, baby? Hmm?”

You nod desperately, too cock drunk to speak. Jolting when Theodore presses a harsh finger to your clit, circling it as he fucked deeper into you. "Theo, I'm gonna—"

"I know baby," he says, his cock getting impossibly harder inside of you. He presses another finger onto your clit, rubbing tight circles as you squirm underneath him. "Fuck— you're pussy's so good. Need you to come on my cock."

Theodore leans down to kiss you, pushing his length even deeper into you. You moan into his mouth, fucking you through your orgasm, your legs trembling as you try to squeeze him in.

Theodore fucks your cum back into you harder and faster, chasing his own high. One quick glance at his cock coated with your cum, followed by the bulge in your tummy was sends has him rutting into your tight cunt, spilling his warm seed inside you.

Theodore thrusts a few more time just to savor the sight of you spread on his cock before finally pulling out of you. "Fuck Theo," you whined, his cum leaking out of you, making a mess all over your bedsheet. "Were you just never going to tell me your dick is huge?"

Theodore only smiles bashfully, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. "We're still on this?"

"You expect me to not be on this?" You say with a slight pout, Theodore only half paying attention to you as he grabbed a random shirt from the floor to wipe at you thighs. "It's almost like you don't even think of me as you best friend."

"Pretty sure best friends don't go around telling each other about how big their dick is, baby," he replies.

"Blaise can know about your dick size but I can't?" You murmur. "Talk about double standards."

Theodore pauses his movements, hand hovering over your spent pussy. "That fucker."

"Hmm?" You're curious now, confused as to why he was suddenly cursing out your friend. Never having been one to use curse words unless —well, unless he's fucking you.

"He told me that you liked guys who begged," he says with a slight front, going back to cleaning you up nonetheless.

"Is that why you begged to fuck me?"

"No, that was all me," he answers truthfully, ears tinging red in embarrassment,"just wanted to fuck you."

"And they say romance is dead," you say playfully before your eye zeroes into what's in Theodore's hand. "What about the whole breeding thing? And ‘s that my shirt?"

Theodore, freezes with his hands between your thighs, feeling you stare him down as he did so. Slowly, he unravels the shirt he'd use to wipe you clean only to realize that yes, that is your shirt.

"You ripped up my panties, messed up my skirt, tried to put a baby in me, and used my shirt to wipe up your cum," you say, frowning, "I'm never having sex with you again."

Theodore's quick to apologize, peppering your face with kisses, mumbling sorry over and over again. "I'll sneak you out of Oxford street, take my black card with you, how's that sound?"

— from bee: this is my first time writing smut be nice to me 😡

[cherrygirlfriend]

black widow pairing: wife!reader x husband!rafe synopsis: rafe gets a call from reader screaming about a spider, only to realize it really is that serious. warnings: fluff, spiders - wc: 1k i thought it'd be an interesting premise if it was an actually venomous spider!! i also decided to write this about husband!rafe, hope that's alright! thank you for requesting!

rafe was sitting in his chair, listening to yet another old man nitpick his way of doing business and giving his two cents where it really wasn't wanted, a small part of the man just wishing there was a sniper on top of some roof, getting ready to finish the job so he wouldn't have to listen to this crap.

he felt a soft vibration in the pocket of his trousers, digging out his phone and looking at the screen, your name lighting it up with an incoming call, the entire board of directors turning their attention to him, and he was conflicted about what to do; sure, this meeting was the last thing he wanted to be at, but he couldn't just ignore it. rafe sighed, pressing the red button and muttering a quiet apology, the meeting continuing like nothing happened.

but only a few seconds later, he felt his pocket start vibrating again, and he knew something was off; you never called him again after he declined your call, especially while he's at work.

"excuse me, i have to take this." rafe muttered, standing up and ignoring the judgemental looks the men were throwing his way, as he made his way out of the glass-walled meeting room, smoothing a hand over his short hair as he presses the green button with urgency, bringing his phone to his ear, "baby? what's wrong?"

the last thing he expected was to hear you scream.

"baby?" he asked, already starting to make his way to the elevator, knowing that whatever it was, he'd deal with it immediately, "baby, talk to me, what's happening? are you in danger?!"

"rafe!" you exclaimed on the other line, sounding breathless, "you gotta come home, you gotta come home right now."

"what is it? what's happening?" every single alarm bell was ringing inside rafe's head and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears; what if someone hurt you? what if you were getting robbed? what if you were in danger?

"there's a- eeeeek!" you exclaim, "there's a spider!"

rafe's hand drops from the elevator button, a dumbfounded look on his face as he held the phone to his ear; he couldn't believe he'd just rushed out of a meeting only for you to be calling him because of... a spider? he let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"baby, you're a big girl. i'm sure you can handle one damn spider. you know, i can't just ditch an important meeting because you're too sweet to kill a damn spider, it's-"

"no, rafe!" you groaned into the phone, "it's not just a damn spider, i'm pretty sure it's a venomous spider!"

"what? how do you know?"

"you know, it's that one redhead from the avengers! it has- it has a black body and a red hourglass on it's stomach, and i searched it up, and it's a venomous spider!"

"fuck..." rafe sighed, getting into the elevator and pressing the button for the bottom floor, "alright, baby, i'm coming but it's gonna take me a bit, i'll get someone to come take care of it right now."

luckily, rafe knew that a guy who lived a few houses away from you was a pretty prominent zoologist, having gotten stuck listening to him talk about snakes for almost an hour at a party his wife had held, and for once, he was thankful for weird-ass neighbors.

after thirty minutes of driving through red lights and ignoring stop signs, rafe slams the driver side's door closed, immediately spotting you sitting on the steps in front of your shared home, your head in your hands, gazing down at the ground. he made a beeline towards you, kneeling down in front of you.

"baby?" he asked, his hand on your shoulder, coaxing you to look at him. even though you'd grown up on the cut where they were practically everywhere, you'd never been too fond of bugs, and whenever they invaded your home, it was rafe who got the job of getting rid of them. he gently placed his hand under your chin, lifting your face up so you were looking up at him, your pretty lips turned down into a pout that would've looked annoying on anyone else, but on you, it was strangely endearing. anything you did was like that. "everything alright?"

you nodded, letting out a small sigh, "yeah, christa's husband came to help me with it and took it away."

"alright, so why do you look so sour?" rafe practically cooed, "c'mon. let's go inside." you let out a small sniffle, reluctantly letting rafe pull you up and lead you inside. honestly, you really didn't know why it seemed like such a big deal to you in that moment; the spider was gone now, and it wasn't like it got anywhere near you. yet, somehow it felt like the end of the world.

soon, you two were tangled on the couch, your head in the crook of his warm neck, rafe's hand carding through your hair. "everything alright?" he asked, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head. "the spider's gone now, sweets."

"yeah..." you fiddled with your hands, deep in thought as you listened to rafe's steady heartbeat underneath you. "i don't know why i got so... fussy over it. i just haven't been sleeping properly, so i guess i'm more emotional."

"oh, i've noticed your little mood swings." rafe guffawed, "i still remember last week when your package hadn't arrived so you gave me the silent treatment like i was the damn mail man."

"to be fair, you managed to get it to me the very next day."

"anything for my grumpy cat." he pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose, "but i wasn't the one who made it late in the first place."

suddenly, the sentence he'd just spoken started ringing in your head, one word especially seeming to stick with you like glue.

late.

[pepperyduck]

pins & needles

summary: how various jjk men react to ur new/unnoticed piercings! incl. nanami, gojo, geto, choso

warnings: veryyyyyyy suggestive (esp in nanami's), (new) piercings, geto's & nanami's is a new relationship type thing. excuse any typos pls😞. 18+ mdni!

a/n: i got like 3 new piercings over the weekend, this is just self indulgent and cute methinks. also tyyy for 700 :3, i'm trying so hard to get over the writer's block. love u all!

choso + smiley piercing!

"i've never been happier to see you," choso groans as soon as he enters your dorm, kicking off his shoes at the door. though his voice is monotone, you can infer he's tired, worn out from a day's work and fighting curses.

"rough day?" you scoot over in bed to allow room for your boyfriend, smoothing out the sheets and flipping your blanket up.

"very." the singular word is the only response choso gives before beginning to strip his uniform right in front of you. as you're watching intently, choso gets almost completely naked before grabbing some clothes he'd left over; a pair of baggy pants and an "i heart my girlfriend" shirt that you gifted him, and lazily putting them on.

"i did something today, cho," you inform him, and choso’s attention immediately snaps to you, eyes showing that he was obviously wondering.

"what’d you do?"

you give him a bright smile, all the teeth in your mouth shown to him, the shiny ring glistening atop your pretty gums. choso’s brows furrow together, his pupils coming to realize there was something new in your mouth, something different about your smile.

"what’s…that?" he asks, stepping closer and closer and eventually sitting on the bed with you. you giggle at his curious looking, his eyebrows still knitted together in an inquisitive way.

"a piercing, silly," you inform him, carefully flipping up your top lip to show where the jewelry went through the frenulum of your inner lip.

"does it hurt?" choso leans in even more, straightening his eyes with the freshly pierced hole in your mouth.

"not really, just a little bit," you tell him, letting go of your lip and pressing a quick peck to choso’s lips. it catches him off-guard, choso’s face lights up red because he thought he couldn’t kiss you. smiling triumphantly, you pull away from your boyfriend.

"it—um—it looks really pretty on you." choso compliments, "can i kiss you again? please?" and he’s so sincere and sweet, always asking permission for everything. so endearing, really, even with his deep, dark voice.

needless to say, when he kisses you again, choso is making sure to flick the jewelry all around with his tongue, faintly enough to not hurt the new wound. and it becomes a habit from thereon.

gojo + bellybutton piercing!

"i missed you so much, baby."

satoru is on top of you, arms caging you in while you lay underneath him, smiling and feebly grasping the biggest part of his bicep. it had been over a month since you'd seen your husband, he'd been away on a business trip for far too long.

"did you miss me?" his words are drawn out and dramatic, like always, like he was teasing you—but he was practically always teasing you.

"yes, satoru," you blankly reply, "i missed you."

just before you can roll your eyes, gojo's kissing you, a bit enthusiastically, but you quickly melt into his touch. as annoying as he could be, you loved him, you missed him. you had longed for him the moment he left—that was a fact you couldn’t deny.

as quickly as he meets your lips, satoru leaves, disconnecting himself to trail down your torso that was draped in a way-too-expensive t-shirt of his. but the one thing that doesn't leave you is his eyes, he keeps an intense stare on your face as he moves lower and lower towards your waistline. his fingertips dance along your sides before pinching the fabric of the bottom of the shirt and slowly lifting it up.

his eyes are no longer able to stay on yours when he catches a glimpse of the sparkly blue rhinestones on each ball of the jewelry stuck through your navel. of course, you chose the shade that best matched satoru's eye color.

"no way!" satoru exclaims, beaming with a new-found excitement for the little hole in your tummy, "you actually did it?"

"yes, satoru," you repeat, threading your fingers through the white tufts of your husband's hair.

gojo's nimble fingers come to play with the jewelry—the size comparison comedic from how large his hands are. he studies the now fully healed wound, moving the jewelry all around and practically forgetting the previous heated mood.

"do you like it?" you somewhat nervously ask, intimidated by the tedious investigation of your bellybutton.

"yes, duh," satoru dramatically quips, "you think i should get one next?"

nanami + nipple piercing!

kento had tried so hard to ignore it.

you didn't mean to distract him, really. it was a simple mishap at first, not wearing a bra when kento came over. but after the first time, he didn't seem to mind, he was gentlemanly enough. his eyes stayed averted—when you were looking at him, at least—so you took it as a green flag to remain braless when he was at your house without worry.

but nanami's only a man.

so here you are, after work, after your boyfriend had come over, ranting to him in your kitchen about your boss and whatever bullshit you had to put up with that day. but your words land upon deaf ears, noise drowned out by the sight of the little hearts poking out from the shirt you're wearing. he's sat at your dining table, legs lazily spread as he half-listens to you.

"—like, what?! what else am i supposed to do in that situation?"

for the first time in your venting session, you lock eyes with kento, noticing how they flash up quickly from...your chest.

"ken?"

"um—yes?" he chokes, a little too obviously for him to not be embarrassed over.

a smug smile rests over your face, nanami was caught red handed, ogling at your boobs and the cute heart-shaped jewelry that adorned them.

"what'cha staring at?" trailing closer to him with a teasing tone in your voice, you're killing him, embarrassing the poor man as the seconds roll on. kento doesn't reply either, only a raspy breath leaving his lungs as his response. his face heats up and his expression drops, shamelessly glancing down at your chest once more—one, two—counting the peaks of your nipples through the shirt.

"i'm sorry," he finally chokes out, unable to keep his eyes from flashing up and down, to your eyes then to your chest, again and again.

without any words, you slot yourself between nanami's legs, inching your chest closer to his face. it was so funny how easily his stoic persona disintegrated under your presence. he'd never been this close to your chest—to you. and it's intoxicating to him, he's ashamed how he loses himself by simply being eye level with your boobs.

but that guilt quickly washes away when you take his hand and place it perfectly to cup your tit—index finger and thumb resting right around the pretty jewelry under your shirt.

tdlr; that's the first night your boyfriend stays over at your place.

geto + clavicle piercing!

"you look lovely tonight."

smooth as ever, geto compliments you, his voice dripping with a sweet nectar. your insides warm up despite the harsh cold outside, the thick coat draped over your frame doing little to combat the weather.

"thank you," you whisper and smile at him, stepping into the door of the fancy restaurant suguru had chosen for your date. third date, to be exact.

once you're at your table, suguru helps you shimmy the bulky jacket off your shoulders, revealing the tasteful, deep-cut top you had chosen for your date—along with the two studs on each side of your collarbone that your clothing showed off rather perfectly.

it takes suguru a few moments to notice once he sits down. he tries to strike up conversation, relying on the simple questions and responses he can utter without getting too distracted. however, within a few minutes, geto is cracking, eyes every so often flickering down to the gems that aligned your clavicle so prettily. he can't help it, because with every slight movement you make, the jewelry sparkles in the dim light of the restaurant—it's hard to ignore.

"are you okay?" you interrupt your previous dialogue when you take note of geto's increasingly hazy replies, and how he seems a bit spaced out.

"yeah," suguru swallows deeply, "i really like your—um," his pointer finger vaguely motions to his own collarbone, and you have to look down at your chest before you realize what he’s talking about.

his mouth is dry. he’d already thought you were, like, the sexiest woman on earth, but this, oh this, was just too much. geto was unsure as to why he found the piercings so distracting, so hot, but nonetheless enjoyed the view he had.

"oh, thank you!" you giggle, smiling brightly and ghosting your fingers over the piercings—you’d honestly forgotten that this would be the first time he’s seen this much of your body, and the piercings ended up being the perfect touch to make suguru lose his mind.

and he can't wait until he's able to feel on 'em, too.

[softbabybelle]

make the new fic a series thank

corruption 002. 𓍯𓂃 r ֶָ֢cameron

rafe cameron x shy!reader

𝜗𝜚 summary : you've been avoiding rafe since your shared moment in his bedroom and he's been trying to reach out to you by every means possible. of course he finds you at a fucking glitter party.

𝜗𝜚 words : 2.6k

𝜗𝜚 c!w : drinking, weed, icky men, use of 'slut', violence, swearing, suggestive.

part 1, part 3.

to say you'd been avoiding rafe cameron was putting it very, very lightly.

you hadn't uttered a word of the moment let alone the kiss you'd shared with your best friend's older brother to anybody. much less to sarah. you were sure she'd murder you both before you could finish the sentence.

but you couldn't help it, the kiss had plagued your memory.

it stung when you tried to think of anything else. you were so buzzed, a floaty feeling as your head turned to nothing but pure fuzz. rafe's hands were big and warm, fitting around your waist like a glove and his lips oh so soft. you'd never kissed anyone before him, and you were sure now that you never again wanted to kiss anyone but him.

rafe had a pretty good idea why, though was still slightly confused to your sudden detachment.

he knew you were shy, practically cowering in on yourself when any attention was directed your way. he knew he was pushing you, all but forcing your hand when offering you a blunt and not wasting a minute asking are you sure? before crashing his lips into yours.

though he'd be lying if he said he wasn't growing frustrated with the sudden radio silence.

he walked through the doors of kelce's house. he'd been here a number of times, especially for events just like the one tonight.

rafe had to hand it to him. kelce knew how to throw a house party.

despite the blaring music around him and the glitter that was swarming him, all he could think of was you. he'd tried getting a hold of you on various occasions but it was as if you'd fallen off the map. he wondered why you hadn't visited sarah until he found her in the kitchen, stating that she was off to your house.

meaning you had been avoiding him. hell, you'd been avoiding tannyhill altogether.

"man, my fucking eyes." rafe actually had to hold a hand to his eyes when he took sight of topper. kelce had been trying this new thing where he added a 'theme' to each of his houseparty's. tonight's theme was glitter.

topper's face was decorated in gold glitter, swarming through the golden locks of his hair and dripping onto his white shirt. "where's your glitter?"

an annoyed squint was all he offered. "i'm not putting that shit on me."

"kelce isn't gonna be happy. we're supposed to be supporting this whole 'theme' thing." rafe rolled his eyes as topper spoke. they moved through the house, making their way to the living room where most the party was.

kelce's house was huge and the kook's sure as hell filled it.

"dude." the sight of kelce filled his vision. he was seated on the couch, his arm strewn across the back, around some girl rafe didn't care to know the name of. "where's your glitter?"

but his words fell on deaf ears.

rafe's eyes were too busy travelling across the room, landing on you.

you weren't sitting on the couch with your friends or the chairs behind you. you were seated on the carpet, hands playing with a dainty bracelet that you often wore on your wrist. rafe wondered for a moment were you messing with it to soothe the anxiety he knew was bubbling in you. you didn't often come to things like these.

you were dressed in a white, almost silverish dress with two thin straps winding around your shoulders. he swore you never showed so much skin in public, usually a cardigan drawn over you.

pink glitter dusted your hair and he could see it faintly tracing your skin along with your eyelids and your nails painted the same glittery pink.

he was almost getting sick of the glitter everywhere, but you seemed to be changing his mind on the matter.

the chatter continued through the room and they quickly turned their attention away from rafe. you, however, couldn't seem to. you felt your cheeks heat up at the mere sight of him.

how could you ever look him in the eyes again? especially after that night. you'd been so desperate, asking him with a please to kiss you. you'd rutted your hips subconsciously against him, all doey eyed and all but begging for his lips. you'd never done such a thing, acted such a way. you were sure you could never face him ever again after it.

but rafe only took that as a challenge.

you watched as he walked towards you, plopping onto the free armchair you'd chosen to sit next to. like this, he could have fooled himself into thinking you were sitting pretty on your knees for him.

"hey, sweetheart." his tone was a soft greeting, lips playing into a quirk.

a squeaked out "hi." was his response before you whipped your head away from him, turning red in the face. the colour of your cheeks almost matched the glitter in your hair.

"leave her alone." sarah was dressed in a shimmery gold dress, almost the same shape as yours. it was apparent that you'd been matching. yet she also found a way to match with her boyfriend, same golden glitter decorating her face as his did. "she doesn't need you following her around like a dog."

rafe rolled his eyes, watching his sister blow out the smoke from a blunt and pass it off to her boyfriend. it appeared as though two blunts were going around the circle gathered in the middle of the living room. most people at the party were off doing their own thing. they wouldn't dare join.

"it's―it's okay, sarah." your meek words caused sarah's brows to furrow while rafe's face only went slack, a smirk filled with pride falling across his lips.

you didn't often speak up to sarah.

but you did, for him. perhaps it was just a quiet argument, nothing extreme. but to rafe? well he thought you ought to gain a reward.

"y/n?" your eyes snapped across the room to a boy on the couch. rafe believed his name was max, dark hair and dark eyes, shorter than himself. "you want a pull?"

a breathy giggle passed your lips as your cheeks turned pink for a reason nobody but rafe knew. "no, thank you." was your gentle response.

good girl rafe uttered in his head.

as if on cue, your eyes glanced up at him where he sat on the armchair. he gave you the smallest of nods, one not perceptible to anyone but you.

and you knew as you squirmed on your knees that you'd done the right thing.

"please." a huffed laugh fell from sarah. "y/n would have to be possessed by satan himself before she'd touch weed."

again, your eyes flickered back to rafe, this time more hesitantly.

he had this amused look on his face, as if he could read you so well. and he could. perhaps that was the scary part. these people surrounding you, they'd known you for forever. sarah was your best friend, you were closer with nobody else in the world, you told her all your filthy secrets and she shared all of hers.

but rafe... it was rafe who seemed to know you the most out of everyone in the entire room.

he was aware of your filthy little secret, not sarah.

she was completely naive to you sitting in her brothers room, atop his lap, glazed over eyes as you begged him over and over again to kiss you, a blunt being passed between you two.

a shaky breath left your lips and you stood. "'m gonna go get a drink."

"there's juice in the fridge!" kelce called after you, knowing you wouldn't actually dare drink any of the other beverages he had to offer. alcohol simply wasn't your 'scene'.

apparently weed was.

you didn't actually make it to the kitchen, though. rafe stopped you in the hallway before you could, his large hand coming to wrap around your upper arm.

skin on skin.

your head felt suddenly floaty. "shit." he let go of your arm once you were backed against the wall, swallowing thickly. "there's fuckin' glitter everywhere." wiping his hands against his jeans, coating it with pink glitter.

you frowned at his words. "'s on theme." you mumbled.

you were acutely aware of how trapped you were, between the wall and rafe's towering body. you never realised how tall he was until he was so close to you. "why are you avoiding me, huh?"

you couldn't look at him. you couldn't be this close. you couldn't. you couldn't. you couldn't.

all you could think of was his hands on your waist, his lips on your own. you could have let out a whimper at the mere flashback. "'m not."

"don't give me that shit, princess." his two fingers hooked under your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at him. this is when you panicked, eyes turning wide as saucers, top lip biting your bottom, as much as he'd told you to stop beforehand. "what, you're gone all shy 'cause you knew you wanted me to fuck you, is that it?"

for the first time, words slipped so easily from you. "rafe!" hands reached up, trying to cover his mouth.

you should've known better than that, though.

his hand swiftly grabbed your wrist, pushing it downwards. you were sure it'd leave a mark by morning. in a strange way, you hoped it did. a mark of his fingers digging into your skin. like his touch would still be there by the time you woke in your bed.

"scared people'll hear, huh? scared they won't think you're the good girl you're pretendin' to be?" he tilted his head gauging your reactions. "asked you a question, angel."

his grip tightened on your wrist and you couldn't help but whimper out, "yes." aware of the many bodies surrounding you, anyone could have easily spotted you two.

perhaps that was the upside to kelce inviting every single person to have ever lived on figure eight to his house parties. they were a bunch of nobodies. they didn't know you and you didn't know them. they didn't matter. what mattered was rafe, standing right in front of you, bending down lower so his lips could reach your ear.

"worried what they think, huh? 'n 'm the only one in this whole fuckin' house who knows who you are." suddenly his fingers softened against your chin, rough hold loosening while his fingers traced gently across your cheek. "so worried about what they think of you. y'can still be my good girl, yeah?"

you swore then and there that rafe had ripped every pretty thought that had ever developed in your head.

you were totally and utterly dumb.

and all you could offer him was a haste nod.

"y/n?" rafe allowed his hands to fall away from your skin at the sound of your name being called. you blinked, trying to come back to reality after rafe had messed you up completely. you were met with the sight of max, looking dangerously between the two of you. "he bothering you?"

you looked up at rafe in confusion while the blonde boy merely made a scowl at max. "wh―no, no he's not bothering me." your voice was sickly sweet, innocence radiating off it.

you didn't understand max's intentions.

that was why you were safe with rafe, who would make sure no man ever got to act on such thoughts.

none but himself. of course.

"come outside 'n smoke a blunt with me, then, yeah?" once again, your brows furrowed at his words. you didn't really know max all that well, just that he was a newfound friend of topper's. he moved to the outerbanks not too long ago.

"dude, are you deaf?" it was rafe who responded, instinctively standing out further than you, almost as if he were shielding you from the boy. "she said no, what―five fuckin' minutes ago?"

max's eyes squinted. "listen, with all due respect, wasn't fucking talking to you."

rafe's lips quirked upwards, tongue digging into his cheek. you looked nervously between the boys. "yeah, well you're talkin' to me now. fuck off 'n find someone else to go smoke a blunt with, yeah?"

"think i'll take this one, actually." you felt the boy reach out for you, grabbing your upper arm and dragging you forward. you stumbled as he did so, his grip made from seemingly iron.

rafe's face dropped almost instantly. his eyes glared at the hand that held you. his eyes flickered up to your face, head bent, nervously biting your bottom lip while your face contorted into a kind of stinging pain. "get your fucking hands off of her."

"yeah?" max suddenly pulled you closer, hitting your back against his chest. your eyes went wide as they looked for rafe's. you wouldn't admit it aloud, but sudden white hot fear filled your chest. "or what?"

a breathy chuckle left rafe's lips as he nodded to himself. it was almost as if he were mulling a thought over. it didn't take him long to decide.

max didn't get to let out another word before rafe was throwing a punch across his face, knocking the breath out of him.

the boy stumbled backwards, shouting out a swear and clutching his face. you felt rafe's hands immediately win you back, pulling you closer to him as your breath picked up. your eyes glanced around the house, a hundred eyes suddenly all looking at you. you didn't like this. you didn't like any of this at all. and it was all your fault.

"rafe." you practically whimpered out, hand tugging at his sleeve. you could feel tears welling in your waterline. "please, let's just g―"

"take her." max was wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand. "don't fucking want the slut anyw―"

it was safe to say that max didn't get to finish his sentence because before you could do anything to stop it, rafe was discarding you. he was practically on top of max within a blink of an eye.

you called out for rafe, begging him to stop.

you didn't want any of this, and it was all your fault.

panic filled you and suddenly there was too much air in your lungs. you felt wet hot tears against your cheeks and you tried getting rafe to stop but too many people were surrounding you now, enclosing in on you.

people knew you were shy. you didn't like meeting new people or talking in groups.

but it went so much deeper than that.

the people surrounding you made your head fuzzy. the loud noises of screaming and yelling, some telling him to stop, some egging him on further. it was all beginning to get too much and you couldn't feel yourself breathe.

you only allowed yourself to leave out a breath when topper and kelce came running through the crowd, pushing people apart to get to rafe. they all but pulled the blonde boy off of max, kelce holding him by his chest and telling him to relax.

you couldn't actually hear anything, you could just see lips moving.

everything was a blur.

rafe was yelling back at kelce, half explaining-half shouting past him to max.

he didn't stop until his gaze reached your watery eyes.

"rafe!" you could hear sarah yelling from beside you. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

you wanted to stay to help the boy. oh you did dearly. he'd done so much for you already. but you were a coward and the panic in your chest, the frosty fear in your stomach. it wasn't going to simmer away while you stared at rafe, hands all bloody and knuckles split.

so you turned.

and you ran from it. from all of it. from him.

[buckyalpine]

18+ Minors dni. Seriously, it gets feral in a way I didn't anticipate and I'm the pervert who wrote this.

Bucky sleeping naked. We're back to this again cause I'm a pervert and he's a cutie, I can’t help it. Why do I find it adorable. Sexy. So pretty. And the different of versions of this?

Imagine being Bucky’s roommate and having to deal with different types of Buckys. A shy, soft Bucky is always in the softest pj’s, cotton t-shirts and warm sweaters. He is truly the sweetest, more precious thing on the planet, always making you a steaming cup of coffee in the morning and hot chocolate at night.

You don’t think much of it when you slip into his room to return the hoodie you stole and you all but faint when you see him practically starfish on the bed, soft snores slipping past his lips, the bedside lamp still on along with the book his was reading half open on his chest but that wasn't what you were looking at cause-

You shouldn’t even be here, you should look away, you really should but it’s not your fault that he has the prettiest cock on full display with perfect, heavy balls in between plush thighs. You're not sure how someone so sweet and pure can look this sinful, nearly tearing the hoodie you're clutching onto the longer you wait by the door.

Idk why my mind went here but imagine he's soft but gets hard when he smells you. You're close enough in his room that your shampoo and something so distinctly you fills his senses. It's not his fault his senses are heightened. I mean imagine you see it happen. A cute little groan as all the blood rushes down between his legs, his cock now standing at full attention, stiff and begging. Leaking.

You're frozen on the spot, begging for your feet to move, just drop the hoodie and run, anything but no. He's still asleep, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as his pulse starts to work a little faster, his hand coming down to soothe the ache, his book slipping off his chest.

You should definitely leave now, it's too intimate, you can't be here when he-

"mph" His sleepy movements are barely coordinated as he gives his cock a squeeze, his cheeks getting pinker by the second. He rolls over with his face now buried into the pillow, pressing his hips against the mattress for some relief.

I can't deal.

Innocent Bucky having a wet dream over you.

Innocent Bucky making a mess because of you.

Innocent Bucky acting normal around you the next morning, placing a steaming mug of tea in front of you while you stutter a thank you and he says you're welcome doll, like he always does.

Innocent Bucky still too shy to tell you that he jerks his cock off to you more times than you can count. That he adores you too much, he'd never be so crass to make a move on his roommate. He's still working up the courage to ask you on a date. Till then he's gonna fuck his fist and hump his bed and think of all the ways he wishes you were naked with him, your legs around his waist while he pounds you, filling you up while you scream his name-

-

Fuck boy Bucky shows himself off without a care in the world. You start to wonder if the man owns anything else aside from a few slutty pairs of boxer brief's. He's always manspreading and it's hard to act like it's an inconvenience when he's built like that. That being said, it's not like you've seen all of him. He leaves little to the imagination but it's not like he walked around naked.

You'd never openly admit you were a little curious.

You find out he's put your mug on the highest shelf again and you swear he does it on purpose just to mess with you. You grumble, ready to tell him off, walking right into his bedroom, his full legal name right at the tip of your tongue-

"Fuck-"

His chest rises and falls along with his soft snores, one arm propped under his head while the other is half one his chest. His thighs were spread apart without a care in the world and not a single piece of clothing covered his body, bed sheets also tossed aside.

Apparently the serum made him run hot.

Every single bit of him is on display, the only thing he's wearing are his pretty silver dog tags. You freeze, blinking, your tongue now tied, you were so annoyed with him and now-

"Y'like what you see angel?" His raspy voice makes you yelp as he keeps his eyes closed but the smirk that makes its way to his lips lets you know he's more than awake now. You have no idea when he woke up or realized you were there but you can't get your feet to move, voice caught in your throat.

He doesn't even bother trying to cover up, unbothered at the state you're seeing him in.

Imagine this cocky fuck going as far as giving his cock a lazy tug and he can definitely smell how wet you are. He knows you're getting wetter.

"Need something baby, cause I gotta take care of this or I won't fall asleep" He cocks an eyebrow, nodding down to his hard cock before looking back at you. He's not going to tell you yet that he'd been pining after you with the most desperate crush. That he keeps those mugs up high on purpose so you have to call him to get it for you.

"I-I

"Don't get all shy on me now princess, better lock the door on your way out unless you're gonna stand there and watch?" He gives himself another lazy tug, this one followed by a groan.

Fuckboy Bucky who loves the way you look like a deer caught in headlights.

Fuckboy Bucky who strokes his cock while you watch.

Fuckboy Bucky who lets out a deep, raspy, "Fuck baby, just c'mere" when he hears a desperate whimper slip past your lips.

Fuckboy Bucky who gets you naked with him, not wasting a second to get inside your pussy.

Fuckboy Bucky who runs his mouth too much and mumbles an unconscious "Fuck, i love you" when he starts to cum.

and cum.

and fucking cum.

Fuckboy Bucky who confesses his feelings.

Anyway.

Naked Bucky in bed.

That's all I want.