#but by and large. he is kind. even if that can mean going through the motions of caring while not feeling it deep down

[yeagersss]

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief as you stared at the child hiding behind your husband's legs and peaking at you.

Sukuna didn't pay attention to your questioning stare, he simply sauntered in to your shared home and tossed the meat he had hunted on the table. As if it was just an average day for the two of you.

Except it wasn't because there was a child right next to him.

"Um... Love?" You questioned softly.

"What?" He grunted.

"Mind telling me who... that is?"

Sukuna crossed his upper arms while resting his lower on his hips. He shrugged. "Our ice house is no more. This child can create ice so I brought them home."

Of course he did. Leave it to your husband to replace an actual functioning cooler with a literal child.

Speaking of a cooler...

"The icehouse is broken? I swear it was perfectly fine when I went there this morning..." You mused.

But a quick glance outside the window confirmed that it was indeed broken. Crushed by a tree and blood splattered everywhere from the meat stored inside of it.

And just one look at the fallen tree, you can tell what—no, who was responsible for this destruction. There was a large, clean cut right at its base.

You turned to your husband with an accusing frown but he opted to not look at you. He knows that the moment he locked eyes with you, he'll have to face your wrath and.... He'd rather not.

You sighed and shook your head before walking over to the child who stepped away from you the moment you got closer.

You stopped, keeping your distance and smiled kindly. "It's okay. Don't be afraid, little one. I won't hurt you."

Your voice was soft, your eyes were kind so when the child looked up at Sukuna and saw the way he was looking at you, they knew you were trustworthy.

And yet...

"You won't harm me but... I can harm you." Was what the child spoke.

Your heart sank at their words and the way they looked away. Their gaze was an empty and distant void. This poor child...

But the King of Curses scoffed at their words. "Go to her. As long as I am here you cannot harm her."

You were surprised at how this child had came to trust Sukuna that they took his word and slowly stepped over to you. Besides you, no one else in this land would ever dare trust him. Then again, your husband never gave them a reason to.

You went down on your knees to be at the child's level. A small, loving smile graced your features as you reached over to brush your fingers against their cheek.

Ice cold.

But that didn't stop you as you brushed their hair in comfort. "You poor thing... Just what have you been through?" You asked softly.

The child kept quiet, their eyes gathered with unshed tears. They closed it to stop them from flowing down. And then, very very tentatively they leaned into your touch.

"...You're warm." They mumbled.

Your heart warmed at those soft words. You were happy that this child had found comfort in you.

Despite being the King of Curses' wife, you loved children. You always wanted one of your own. You had even managed to convince your husband to have a child together.

But those dreams were far gone when you found out you were infertile.

It took a while but you had gotten over it. Though part of you still wished that you can have that. A small family with your husband.

So when you looked up at Sukuna, that's when you noticed his gaze. A look that was only reserved for you. Tender, soft and... loving. But there was another meaning behind it...

This is my gift to you.

Your heart leaped and you felt tears gathering in your eyes. The smile you gave him was nothing short of radiant that had him looking away from you. But you knew he was flustered just from the red tint on the tip of his ears.

You laughed softly and got on your feet, gently pulling the child close to you. "What's your name, little one?"

"Uraume."

You hummed. "Uraume... What a beautiful name. Are you hungry, Uraume?"

Uraume felt their stomach grumble just then so they softly nodded.

"Very well, then I'll get started on dinner."

Uraume looked up at you, their pinkish eyes staring at you with a curious glint. "Can I help?" They asked.

You smiled, running a gentle hand through their white hair.

"Of course."

[bbdeongi]

PANTIE THIEF

☆PAIRING: Sub!Yunho x Dom!Reader

☆GENRE: smut

☆WARNINGS: Roomates, Sub Yunho, Dom Fem reader, degradation, pet names, eating out, jerking off/hand job, cowgirl, lots of praise as well.

☆SUMMARY: Your underwear kept going missing.. finally one day, you find the culprit.

☆A/N: request from @hwxbibi

7.2k words

It had been two weeks of something strange, and you’d finally hit your limit. For days now, you’d noticed an odd pattern: certain pairs of your panties had been disappearing from your drawer, only to reappear in the wash later as though you’d worn them. But you hadn’t. You knew your habits well enough to tell when something was out of place.

At first, you thought maybe you were overthinking it—maybe it was a mistake, or maybe you’d tossed them in the hamper without remembering. But it kept happening, and the unease in your chest grew until it was impossible to ignore.

Your roommate, Yunho, didn’t seem to notice anything unusual. He was his usual charming, friendly self—tall, broad, and always ready with a laugh or a kind word. He was frustratingly handsome, with dark eyes that seemed to sparkle when he smiled, and you hated that just being around him made your heart race. But now, every interaction made you suspicious.

You’d known Yunho for years, and you shared a close friendship, even if there was an unspoken tension between you. You’d chalked it up to your crush on him—a crush you’d kept buried because there was no way someone like him, with his confident smile and natural charisma, would be into you.

But then something was off.. Yunho had been acting a little different lately. He was quieter around you, his usual confident and teasing demeanor replaced with something more subdued. You’d caught him staring at you a few times, quickly looking away when you noticed. You’d thought it was just your imagination or maybe even your own crush on him clouding your perception. But now, you weren’t so sure.

But tonight, something felt different and you were determined to figure it out.

It was just past 9 PM when you got back to your shared apartment. The lights were on, and Yunho’s shoes were by the door, meaning he was home. You kicked off your own shoes, dropped your bag by the couch, and made your way down the hall toward your bedroom. Everything seemed normal—quiet and still. But as you walked down to your room, the feeling of unease returned.

That’s when you noticed it: your door was open.

Your heart sank. You knew you’d closed it when you left earlier. You always closed your door out of habit—it was your little sanctuary in the shared space. A knot of unease tightened in your stomach as you approached, your footsteps slow and deliberate.

When you reached the doorway, you stopped in your tracks.

Yunho was standing in front of your dresser, his tall frame slightly hunched as he rifled through the top drawer—your underwear drawer.

Your breath caught in your throat, a mix of shock and anger flooding your chest. “Yunho,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the silence like a whip.

He froze. His shoulders stiffened, and his head whipped around to look at you, his dark eyes wide with panic. “I—I—” he stammered, his face flushing crimson as he quickly stepped back from the dresser, a pair of your panties clutched in his large hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you demanded, stepping into the room and crossing your arms.

“I… I can explain,” Yunho said, his voice shaky as he dropped the panties

You stepped further into the room, closing the door behind you with a decisive click. Yunho’s tall frame seemed to shrink slightly as he realized he was cornered. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, his dark eyes flicking to the floor, then to you, and then back to the floor as if searching for a way out.

“I’m waiting,” you said, your tone sharp as you crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I…” Yunho’s voice faltered, and he let out a shaky breath, his hand still lingering on the edge of your dresser. He looked completely out of his element—like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. His usual confidence and charm were gone, replaced by something hesitant, something vulnerable. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” he muttered finally, his voice so soft you almost didn’t catch it.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Find out what, Yunho? That you’ve been sneaking into my room and stealing my panties?”

Yunho winced at your blunt words, his face burning crimson. “I… I wasn’t stealing them,” he said quickly, as though that somehow made it better.

“Oh, really?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “So what exactly were you doing, then?”

He hesitated, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His gaze flicked to the drawer, then back to you, and for a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then he took a deep breath and blurted out, “I—I just… I wanted something of yours.”

The admission hung heavy in the air, and your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected confession. You narrowed your eyes at him, taking a step closer. “Why?”

Yunho shifted uncomfortably, his large frame towering over you despite the fact that he looked like he wanted to shrink into the floor. “Because,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Because what, Yunho?” you pressed, your tone unrelenting.

He looked up at you then, his dark eyes filled with a mix of shame and something else—something raw and vulnerable. “Because I like you, okay?” he said, the words rushing out in a single breath. “I’ve liked you for a long time, and… and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden confession. Of all the explanations you’d been expecting, this wasn’t one of them.

“So your solution was to… what? Go through my underwear drawer?” you said, your voice skeptical. You felt creeped out but at the same time you felt that feeling in your gut whenever you found something... hot.

Yunho’s face burned even brighter, and he let out a groan, covering his face with his hands. “I know it was stupid, okay? I wasn’t thinking. I just… I wanted to feel close to you. And I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way about me, so…” His voice trailed off, and he dropped his hands, looking utterly defeated.

For a moment, you didn’t say anything, your mind racing as you tried to process what he’d just said. Yunho liked you? The same Yunho who was always so confident and self-assured? The same Yunho who made your heart race every time he smiled at you?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your thoughts. “Yunho,” you said, your tone softer now, though it still carried an edge of authority. “Come here.”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he finally stepped closer, his movements tentative. His towering height made him seem imposing, but right now, he looked anything but. He looked… small. I mean he was still way taller than you, but he acted... submissive?

You sat down on the edge of your bed, crossing your legs and gesturing for him to kneel in front of you. “Kneel,” you said firmly.

Yunho’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he might protest. But then he nodded, lowering himself to his knees in front of you. His broad shoulders hunched slightly, and his gaze was fixed on the floor, his usual confidence completely stripped away.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. Even like this, he was undeniably beautiful. His dark hair fell slightly into his eyes, his jawline sharp and defined even as he looked down. And his lips… God, his lips were parted just enough to reveal the slightest hint of teeth, as though he was biting back a response.

“Look at me,” you said, your voice calm but commanding.

Slowly, Yunho lifted his gaze to meet yours. His dark eyes were filled with a mix of guilt and longing, and the sight made something stir deep within you.

“You’ve been a bad boy, Yunho,” you said, your tone firm but teasing.

His breath hitched, and you saw his hands twitch slightly where they rested on his thighs. “I… I know,” he said softly.

“Do you?” you asked, leaning forward slightly. “Do you know how wrong it is to go through someone’s things without their permission?” You position yourself, so you were leaning over your legs.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“And do you know how much trouble you’re in right now?”

“Yes,” he said again, his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red.

You smirked, satisfaction curling in your chest as you watched him squirm under your gaze. “Good,” you said, leaning back slightly. “Then I think it’s time I teach you a lesson.”

Yunho’s eyes widened slightly at your words, and you saw the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His breath quickened, and you could see the anticipation and nervousness flickering in his gaze.

“Take off your shirt,” you said simply, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Yunho hesitated for only a moment before reaching down, grabbing the hem of his shirt, and pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. The sight of his bare chest made your breath catch for just a second—his toned muscles and smooth skin were exactly as you’d imagined, maybe even better.

You reached out, trailing your fingers lightly over his chest, watching as he shivered under your touch. His breaths came in short, uneven bursts, and you could see the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as though he was trying to keep himself in check.

“You’ve got such a nice body, Yunho,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against the line of his collarbone. “It’s a shame you used it to do something so naughty.”

“I’m sorry,” Yunho said quickly, his voice trembling slightly.

“Oh, you will be,” you said, your smirk widening. “But for now, I think you’ve got some making up to do.”

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as your hand lingered on Yunho’s chest. His heart was racing beneath your fingertips, and the way he looked at you—with so much vulnerability it made your own heart flutter in your chest.

“Yunho,” you began softly, your voice losing some of its sharp edge. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the way they searched your face made your throat tighten. You let out a quiet sigh, shaking your head slightly as a wry smile tugged at your lips.

“You’re such a dumbass sometimes, you know that?” you murmured, your tone soft but teasing.

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you said, leaning closer, your fingers trailing up to rest lightly against his jaw, “that you’ve been acting like a fool, sneaking around and making all these excuses… when all you had to do was tell me how you felt.”

Yunho’s breath hitched at your words, his lips parting slightly as if to respond, but no sound came out. His wide eyes searched yours, and you could see the shock and hope flickering in his expression.

“I like you too, Yunho,” you admitted, your voice steady despite the slight nervous flutter in your chest. “I’ve liked you for a long time. But instead of just saying something, you pull this ridiculous ass stunt?”

“I—I didn’t think…” Yunho started, his voice trembling. “I didn’t think you’d feel the same way.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Well, you thought wrong,” you said simply, leaning even closer until your lips were just a breath away from his.

You didn’t let him speak, instead you closed the small distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was firm and deliberate.

Yunho froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but then he melted against you, his large hands twitching slightly on his thighs as if he wanted to reach out and touch you but didn’t dare. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and the kiss quickly deepened, filled with all the emotions that had been simmering between you for so long.

His lips were soft and plump against yours. you cupped his cheeks as you continued to kiss him, he was still on his knees, in-between your thighs. he looked so hot and desperate like this... you eventually pulled back, his eyes were glassy.. like puppy eyes.

You leaned in close, brushing your thumb lightly along Yunho’s jaw, watching as he trembled beneath your touch. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of satisfaction at how completely you had unraveled him.

“This is your last warning,” you said firmly, your voice dropping to a low, commanding tone. “If you don’t behave, you’re going to regret it. Do you understand?”

Yunho nodded quickly, his gaze fixed on you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the moment. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice a little shaky.

“Yes, what?” you prompted, arching an eyebrow as you tilted his chin up slightly, forcing him to look directly into your eyes.

For a moment, he hesitated, his dark eyes flickering with uncertainty. Then, in a soft, trembling voice, he whispered, “Yes… mommy.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you blinked, stunned. The word hung in the air between you like a spark, and you could feel your heart race at the sound of it. Yunho’s cheeks flushed a deep red, his gaze darting away as though he was regretting the slip.

But you weren’t upset. Far from it. in fact, you actually liked it. never in your life have you felt.. I guess, powerful. you've never felt a sense of dominance.

“Mommy?” you repeated, your voice softer now, almost teasing. Yunho’s eyes flicked back to yours, wide with nervousness, and you could see the way his lips parted slightly as if to explain himself.

“I—” he started, but you placed a finger over his lips, silencing him.

You studied him for a moment, the tension in the room shifting slightly. The raw vulnerability in his eyes tugged at something deep inside you, softening the edge of your demeanor. You had never seen Yunho like this before—so open, so submissive—and it stirred something in you that you couldn’t ignore.

After a moment, you lowered your hand, your voice gentler now as you asked, “bub, are you okay with this?”

His eyes widened slightly at the question, and for a moment, he looked genuinely surprised. “I—yeah,” he said quickly, his voice earnest but still trembling. “I want this. I… I want to be good for you.”

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “I need you to be honest with me,” you said, your tone steady but kind. “If this is too much, or if there’s anything you don’t want, you need to tell me. Okay?”

Yunho nodded again, his gaze unwavering as he looked up at you. “I’m okay,” he said, his voice gaining a little more confidence. “I want this. I… I like it.”

His admission sent a warmth flooding through you, and you felt your lips curve into a small smile. “Good,” you said softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Because I like it too.”

The relief that washed over Yunho’s face was visible, and he let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly as the tension in the room eased. You placed a hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing over his flushed skin as you took a moment to simply look at him, the boy who had always been your friend, now kneeling before you in a way that felt both strange and undeniably right.

“Just let me take the lead, okay?” you said softly, your voice reassuring. “We’ll go slow.”

“Okay,” Yunho said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the eagerness in his tone was there.

You sat back slightly, still perched on the edge of the bed, your gaze locked on Yunho’s flushed face as his breathing steadied. There was a vulnerability in his expression that made your chest tighten, but beneath it was something else—something tentative yet eager, like he was waiting for permission to cross a line he’d only ever dreamed of approaching.

Your dress shifted slightly as you adjusted your position, the soft fabric brushing against your thighs. Yunho’s eyes flickered downward, his gaze lingering for just a second too long before darting back to your face. His lips parted as if to say something, but the words didn’t come immediately.

“What is it?” you asked softly, tilting your head as you studied him.

He hesitated, his large hands fidgeting slightly on his thighs. “Can I…” He paused, swallowing hard as his dark eyes searched yours. “Can I take them off?”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly, and a flicker of amusement danced across your face. “Take what off?” you teased, even though you knew exactly what he meant.

“Your… panties,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. His cheeks flushed a deep red, and he quickly added, “Only if you’re okay with it.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. Yunho, despite his size and his usual confidence, looked so small in this moment, kneeling before you and waiting for your approval.

You let out a soft hum, your lips curving into a slight smile as you reached down, trailing your fingers lightly along his jaw. “You want to take them off?” you asked, your voice calm but laced with intrigue.

“Yes,” he said quickly, his voice trembling slightly. “Please.”

The corner of your mouth lifted in a smirk as you leaned back slightly, letting your hands rest at your sides. “Alright,” you said simply. “Go ahead.”

Yunho’s breath hitched, his wide eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before flicking downward again. His large hands trembled slightly as he reached out, his fingertips brushing against the hem of your dress. The soft fabric bunched beneath his fingers as he pushed it up slowly, revealing more of your thighs with each passing second.

His movements were careful, almost reverent, as though he was afraid of going too fast or doing something wrong. You watched him intently, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the way his hands lingered just above the waistband of your panties, hesitating.

“Go on,” you encouraged softly, your voice breaking the silence.

Yunho nodded, his fingers slipping beneath the thin fabric. The heat of his hands against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel his breath hitch as he began to slide the material down. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming, and you could see the way his cheeks burned with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

As the panties slid past your knees, then down to your ankles, Yunho carefully lifted them away, his hands brushing against your skin in a way that made your breath catch. He held them for a moment, his gaze flickering between the fabric in his hands and your face, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

You leaned forward slightly, placing a hand under his chin to tilt his face back up to yours. “Good boy,” you murmured, your voice warm and full of approval.

Yunho’s breath hitched at the praise, his dark eyes searching yours for a moment before he whispered, “Thank you.”

Yunho’s forehead rested against your knees, and his breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. His large hands, which had been lingering just above your thighs, tightened their hold ever so slightly, his thumbs brushing over the soft curves as if testing the limits of how far he could go.

You tilted your head, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you watched him. There was something intoxicating about seeing someone as tall and confident as Yunho in this position, completely at your mercy, waiting for your permission to do anything more.

“Yuyu,” you said softly, your tone laced with a hint of teasing.

He lifted his head at the sound of your voice, his dark eyes searching yours as if waiting for your next command. “Yes?” he breathed, his voice trembling slightly.

You leaned forward, your hand slipping under his chin to tilt his face up toward you. “You’re shaking,” you murmured, your lips curling into a wicked smile. “Are you nervous, baby?”

“A little,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing. “I… I don’t want to mess up.”

You chuckled softly, your thumb brushing over his lower lip as you leaned in closer. “Don’t worry,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “You’re doing just fine. But if you really want to impress me…”

Yunho’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The way he looked at you—wide-eyed and eager, his lips slightly parted—sent a rush of heat through your body. You trailed your fingers down his jawline, your touch light and deliberate as you leaned back just enough to make him follow you with his gaze.

“Use your imagination,” you teased, your voice dripping with suggestion.

Yunho’s breath caught, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Slowly, hesitantly, his hands began to move, sliding up your thighs with a mix of confidence and nervousness. The warmth of his palms against your skin made your breath hitch, and you could see the way his dark eyes flickered with both anticipation and uncertainty.

“Can I…?” he started, his voice trembling.

“You don’t need to ask,” you interrupted softly, leaning back on your hands as you watched him. “Not this time.”

That was all the encouragement Yunho needed. His hands gripped your thighs more firmly, his thumbs tracing small circles as his head dipped forward. His breath was warm against your skin, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as his lips brushed against your inner thigh—soft, tentative, but enough to make your heart race.

“ah, fuck...” you murmured, your voice low but steady.

He froze, his lips hovering just above your skin as he looked up at you, his eyes wide with uncertainty.

“You’re being so good for me,” you said, your tone gentle but laced with authority. “Keep going.”

Yunho’s cheeks flushed even deeper, but the praise seemed to give him the confidence he needed. His lips pressed against your thigh again, more firmly this time, and the warmth of his mouth sent a rush of heat through your body.

“You really like this, don’t you?” you asked, your voice teasing as you watched him.

Yunho pulled back just enough to look up at you, his dark eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment and longing. “I do,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “I… I just want to make you feel good.”

You smirked, leaning forward to trail your fingers through his dark hair. “Then don’t stop,” you said simply.

Yunho’s confidence surged at your praise, warmth flooding his chest as he felt a new determination take hold. He trailed soft kisses along your thighs, his heart racing with anticipation. The sweet scent of you mingled with the air around him, intoxicating and irresistible.

With every gentle nudge, he moved closer to where you wanted him most. Your cunt already slick and wet just for him. He could feel your excitement beneath him, and it only fueled his desire. As he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused for a moment, looking up at you for a brief second, seeking your approval.

“Please,” you encouraged softly, your voice a sultry whisper that sent a thrill through him.

That was all the permission he needed. Yunho leaned in, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed gentle kisses against your pussy. The sensation made you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair as he began to explore with his tongue, teasing and tasting, drawing soft sounds from your lips.

He was meticulous, taking his time to savor every moment, every reaction from you. With each flick of his tongue, he learned what made you shiver, what made you gasp, and he committed it all to memory. Your taste was sweet, intoxicating, and he couldn’t get enough.

“You taste amazing,” he murmured against you, the vibrations sending delightful shivers through your body. He continued, growing bolder, driven by the sounds of your pleasure and the way you responded to him. He took his time, making sure to bring you to the edge, then pulling back just enough to keep you yearning for more.

“Yunnie..,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire, “don’t stop.”

Encouraged by your words, he dove back in with renewed fervor, his focus solely on your pleasure, lost in the moment, determined to show you just how good he could be. He sucked and gently bit your bud making you whine. You slowly started to grind on his face, as he pulled your legs apart more.

Yunho felt a rush of bliss as he continued his exploration, his lips working with purpose against you. His tongue moved with a deliberate, teasing rhythm, swirling and flicking with a newfound confidence. Each caress sent electric shocks through your body, igniting a fire that spread from your core to every nerve ending.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, guiding him, urging him to delve deeper. “Yunho,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with both need and admiration. You could feel the way he responded to your words, the way his movements became more fervent, more eager as he lost himself in the act of worship.

As his mouth moved in with your rising pleasure, Yunho gripped your thighs, his fingers digging in just enough to anchor himself as he pulled you closer. The sensation of his hands holding you firmly, coupled with the delicious pressure of his mouth, sent you spiraling into a dizzying haze of ecstasy. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, contrasting beautifully with the cool air around you, heightening every sensation.

“Just like that,” you encouraged, your head thrown back as the pleasure built within you. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate cocoon. Yunho’s eyes were dark with desire as he watched you, taking in every gasp, every shiver that coursed through your body. The sight of you utterly lost in pleasure fueled his own need to please. "s- such a good f- fucking boy.."

With a newfound intensity, he began to suck, his lips wrapping around you as he worked his tongue in swirling motions, alternating between teasing flicks and deep, passionate pulls. Each movement drew soft cries from your lips, and you could feel the tension building within you, coiling tighter and tighter.

“Yunho, please,” you gasped, your voice thick with desperation. You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, the familiar ache that signaled you were close. “mngh.. k- keep going, baby.”

The words turned him on, and he increased his pace, his fingers gripping your thighs tighter as he held you in place. The pressure of his mouth against you was relentless, and you could feel every movement, every sensation magnified. You were completely at his mercy, and the thought sent shivers of delight coursing through you.

With every flick of his tongue, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of bliss. You could feel your own body responding to him, the way your core tightened with each delicious pull. It was intoxicating, and you wanted nothing more than to lose yourself in this moment with him.

“Baby,” you moaned, your voice trembling as you lost yourself in the sensations. Your fingers twisted in his hair, urging him closer, deeper, as if you could pull him into you entirely. He responded with a low groan, the sound vibrating against you, sending shockwaves of pleasure racing through your body.

He could sense your building pleasure, the way your breathing became erratic, and the way your hips instinctively began to move against him. It drove him wild, and he surrendered completely to the moment, focusing solely on your pleasure. He worshiped you, savoring each taste, each sound, as if you were the most exquisite delicacy he had ever encountered.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your body trembling as you felt the waves of pleasure crashing over you. “I’m so close,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, but Yunho didn’t slow down. If anything, he pushed harder, his mouth working with fervor as he sought to bring you over the edge. "G- gonna cum.."

“Cum for me,” he urged, his voice muffled against you, and the raw need in his tone sent a thrill through you. “I want to taste you.”

With a final, desperate gasp, you felt the tension snap, your body arching as waves of pleasure washed over you. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room as you surrendered completely to the bliss that took over you. Your fingers tightened in his hair as the world exploded in a kaleidoscope of sensations, leaving you breathless and utterly spent. You came all over his face as you whined and moaned, not caring if anyone else heard.

Yunho didn’t stop. He continued to suck gently, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from you as you rode the waves of your orgasm. The sound of your pleasure spurred him on, and he reveled in the taste of you, in the way your body responded to him.

Finally, as the last tremors of pleasure subsided, he pulled back, looking up at you with a mix of awe and satisfaction. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, your eyes still glazed with the remnants of ecstasy. The sight of you, blissed out and completely at his mercy, filled him with a sense of pride, and a warmth spread through him.

“Did I do okay?” he asked softly, his voice a low murmur filled with vulnerability. The question was almost shy, contrasting sharply with the confident way he had just brought you to the brink.

You smiled down at him, your heart swelling with affection. “You did more than okay, baby. You were incredible.” Your fingers brushed against his cheek, and you could see the relief wash over him. The connection between you felt electric, and you could sense the bond deepening in this shared moment of intimacy.

“Thank you,” he said, a shy smile breaking across his face. “I just wanted to make you feel good.”

“Oh, you definitely did,” you replied, your voice teasing but sincere. You pulled him up, your fingers tangling in his hair as you brought him closer, wanting to feel him against you. The warmth of his body pressed against you was intoxicating, and you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Now,” you said, your tone shifting as you met his gaze, “it’s my turn to show you just how much I appreciate that.”

His eyes widened slightly, a spark of excitement igniting within them. He was eager, a hint of shyness still lingering but overshadowed by the hunger he felt. “Really?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Absolutely,” you replied, a playful smile dancing on your lips. You could see the way his breath quickened, and it filled you with a sense of thrill. The night was far from over, and you were determined to take your time, to explore every inch of each other.

As you shifted beneath him, the world outside faded away once more. In this moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s warmth and pleasure, ready to dive deeper into the intoxicating connection that bound you both.

As you pulled Yunho closer, you could feel the heat radiating from him, his body alive with the desire you had ignited. The air was thick with anticipation, each breath heavy with unspoken promises. You wanted to explore this newfound intimacy further, to see just how deep the connection could go.

“Come here,” you whispered, guiding him until he was seated beside you on the bed. The soft fabric felt cool against your heated skin, contrasting sharply with the warmth of his body. You could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but it was quickly overshadowed by the eagerness that lay beneath.

Yunho shifted, his gaze locked onto you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world. It sent a thrill through you, knowing the power you held in this moment. You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his in a soft, teasing kiss that ignited the spark between you once more.

“Let me take care of you,” you murmured against his lips, your voice low and sultry. You could see the way his breath hitched, the way his dark eyes widened with a mix of surprise and excitement.

With a gentle push, you guided him back onto the bed, your fingers trailing down his chest as you made your way toward his waist. The anticipation hung heavy in the air as you slowly began to unbutton his pants, your fingers nimble and deliberate. Each button you released felt like a small victory, a step closer to fully unraveling him.

As the fabric fell away, revealing his toned legs, you could feel your pulse quicken. The moment you slipped his pants down, you were met with the unexpected sight of him—Yunho wasn’t wearing any boxers, and he was hard, fully exposed and waiting for you. precum already dripping from the tip of his cock. A rush of heat coursed through your body, and you couldn't help but bite your lip at the sight.

“Shit,” you breathed, your eyes wide with admiration. “You’re beautiful.”

He let out a nervous laugh, the vulnerability in his expression only making him more irresistible. “I didn’t know how far this would go,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“Neither did I,” you confessed, your voice a sultry whisper. “But I want to explore it with you.”

You could see the mixture of excitement and nerves in his eyes, and it only fueled your desire to show him just how much you wanted him. Leaning down, you placed soft kisses along his thighs, taking your time to savor the moment, to let your lips explore his skin. You could feel the tension beginning to build again, the way his breath quickened with every kiss.

As you reached the apex of his thighs, you paused, looking up at him for a brief moment. “Are you ready?” you asked, wanting to ensure he was comfortable.

“More than ready,” he replied, his voice thick with need.

With that, you took the plunge, wrapping your fingers around his length, feeling the warmth of him against your palm. The sensation sent a rush of excitement through you, and you began to move your hand slowly, deliberately, teasingly. The way he responded to your touch was intoxicating, and you could feel the heat building between you. He was big.. bigger than you thought.

“Just like that,” he breathed, his head falling back against the pillows. The sight of him completely lost in pleasure was enough to send your own heart racing. You continued to stroke him, your movements becoming more confident as you found a rhythm that made him gasp and moan beneath you. "O- oh.. mommy fuck.."

“look at you..” you murmured, your voice filled with desire. “Such a pretty cock.”

He let out a low groan, his fingers tangling in the sheets as he surrendered to the sensations. You watched as his body responded to you, the way his hips instinctively bucked against your hand, seeking more of the pleasure you were giving him. Each movement, each sound, only fueled your desire to bring him to the edge.

You continued to jerk him off. you leaned down and teased him, by licking his tip as you continued to pump him.. His whines filled the room and were like music to your ears..

"M- mommy.."

"J- just like that.."

"Hnghh.. Fuckfuckfuck!"

You could feel the tension coiling within him, the way his breaths became erratic as you quickened your pace. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure, and you could feel the electricity crackling between you, binding you in this intimate moment.

You had an idea.. Something you had always thought of, but never brought it up. You held his dick with one hand, making it stand straight up. Yunho looked at you, curious.. You flattened out your other hand and began rubbing your palm in a circular motion on the tip of his cock.. It send Yunho into shock. He immediately threw his head back against the pillow and started to whine like a puppy. His hands gripped the sheet as his toes started to curl..

"M- Mommy.. p- please.. oh God.."

You smirked, watching him squirm as you kept going with your action.. You liked this side of him. He was so vulnerable and submissive under your touch. Kind of like a little puppy.

“Don’t stop,” he gasped, his voice thick with urgency. “I’m so close.”

With those words, you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his skin as you continued to stroke him, feeling the heat radiating from him. The sensation of your mouth so close to him sent an intoxicating thrill through you, and you could feel your own desire building in response. You then let go of his cock, earning a wince from him. He was so close.. So close to cumming in your hand..

“Yunho,” you whispered, looking up at him with sultry eyes. “I want to feel you inside me.”

His breath hitched at your words, and you could see the desire flood his features. “Ar- are you sure?” he asked, his voice a mix of urgency and concern.

“More than anything,” you replied, your heart racing at the thought of what was to come. "Want to feel your cock.."

With a newfound determination, you shifted your position, climbing onto the bed and straddling him. As you lowered yourself, you could feel the weight of him pressing against you, the anticipation sending shivers down your spine. You took a moment to savor the feeling, to relish in the connection that was steadily building between you. You had to take a break from how big he was.. he wasn't even halfway in you yet..

Yunho’s hands found your waist, his fingers gripping you firmly as you positioned yourself above him. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way he was trembling with anticipation. As you lowered yourself further, you felt the delicious stretch as he entered you, filling you completely.

A gasp escaped your lips, and you could see the way his eyes widened in awe. The sensation was overwhelming, and you took a moment to adjust, to savor the fullness as you both connected in the most intimate way. You could feel the way he throbbed inside you, and it sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Y- you okay mama?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

“s'good.. so big,” you breathed, a smile breaking across your face. “W- want you to fuck me..”

With that invitation, Yunho began to thrust upward, his hands guiding your movements as you found a rhythm together. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate dance of pleasure. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, and you could feel the tension building once more. His cock hitting your g-spot over and over again. you were on the verge of tears.

“Just like that,” you encouraged, your voice breathless as you rode him, feeling the way he filled you completely. The connection between you was electric, and you reveled in the way your bodies moved together, each thrust igniting a fire within you.

As the intensity grew, you could feel your own pleasure spiraling higher, the way your body responded to him perfectly, as if you were made for this. You leaned forward, your hands resting on his chest as you looked down at him, your breath coming in short gasps.

Skin clapping filled the bedroom as you bounced up and down on him. He eventually took off the rest of your dress and threw it somewhere. He drooled at the sight of your perfect, round breast.

"Holy shit.." His veiny hands squeezed both of them, making you throw your head back, moaning his name. He pinched your nipples. He loved the sight of you. As he pinched your sensitive nubs, he glanced down at his cock disappearing into you. The way it was going in and out, He could just cum from that.

He pulled you closer, attaching his mouth on your right breast, him squeezing the other one. "yuyu.. A- ah.." You whimpered. He looked up at you as he bit your nub, like an innocent boy..

“Yunho,” you moaned, the sound escaping your lips as you felt the pleasure building to a peak. “I’m gonna cum..”

“Me too,” he gasped, his eyes dark with desire as he met your gaze. "C- can I cum inside o- of you, mommy?"

You nod, your boobs bouncing, as you rapidly go up and down on his cock once more, chasing your orgasm.

With a final thrust, you felt the tension snap, the waves of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out his name. You finished all over his cock, as you squirted a little bit.

Yunho followed shortly after, his body tensing beneath you as he let out a deep groan, the sound reverberating through you as he reached his own peak. His white ropes released inside of your tight walls. You could feel the warmth of him filling you, and it sent another wave of pleasure coursing through your body. Some of his cum dripped out of your cunt and onto his stomach.

As the waves of ecstasy subsided, you collapsed against him, breathless and spent. You could feel his heart racing beneath you, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

“fuck..” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “fuck, indeed,” you echoed, feeling content and blissful in the aftermath of your shared experience. The connection between you felt deeper than ever, and you could sense that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

In that moment, you knew that you had crossed a threshold together, a bond forged in passion and intimacy that would linger long after the night was over.

His gaze met yours, filled with a mix of hesitation and vulnerability that you’d never seen before. “Y/N...” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… need you. I love you...”

The weight of his confession settled between you, leaving the room thick with tension.

"I- I love you too, Yunnie.." You whisper back to him, a blush creeping on your cheeks.. Then you said something that made Yunho blush a little.

"You pantie thief.."

And for the first time, you wondered if this night had opened a door that neither of you could close...

[sluttiebabydoll]

GOOD PUPPY

pairing; john b x pup!reader

summary; john b makes a new treat to enjoy watching you have while you’re in that puppy state of mind that he just loves putting you in 

content; forced pup play, cum eating, bondage (collar and leash), butt plug

authors note; first fic here... YAY!

you can tell when john b gets home that he’s in a bad mood. he slams the door when he enters and steps heavily through the house. you’re aware that can only mean one thing for you. 

no words are spoken, but you feel his warmth creep up behind you, and then you feel the familiar piece of leather wrap around your neck and be clipped at the back by two large, calloused hands. you fight just a little, oh you really don’t feel like being a pup right now. 

you whimper and pull just a little bit in an attempt to escape but it’s fruitless. you writhe for a second or too but suddenly john bs hands are on your shoulders, pushing you down onto your knees on the floor. it’s now that you give up. 

he unzips the back of your dress and pulls it off your body along with your panites, leaving you completely naked, the way he says a pup should always be. his hand pushes your forward and you catch yourself, ending up on all fours. 

then you feel a cold pressure in your ass, and the little buttplug with an attached fluffy tail is inserted into you. just like that, you feel your mind glazing over, a learned behaviour. it’s automatic, the moment he dresses you up as a puppy you become a puppy, you can’t help it, it always happens whether you want it to or not. 

you whine in protest as he connects you to your leash and pulls you backwards. you can still see the sandwich you were making on the counter. you’re hungry, you want your food. you whine again, pulling forward, towards the food that you want to have. 

john b chuckles, speaking for the first time in this whole interaction. “you hungry puppy?” he speaks condescendingly, still pulling you away, “wanna eat something?” he asks, tugging you back before tapping on your shoulder to command you to sit. 

you do as you’re told, still whimpering sadly with your desire to eat. john b chuckles, “I’ll feed you pup. don’t you fret.” you expect him then to go and grab your sandwich and drop it into your food bowl on the floor for you to eat with your face, but he doesn’t. instead he walks over to the freezer and pulls something else out. 

you squint to see what the item is, you get a glimpse of a little light pink silicone mat, one side has suction cups on and the other side is somewhat textured and spread over with a kind of white substance. it’s a lick mat, coated in yoghurt you assume.  

he sticks the mat to the wall and then steps back, letting you look at it apprehensively. then he speaks, “go on puppy.” he smirks, “go lick it like a good pup.” you frown, not so sure about the new thing. john b kicks you forward, back onto all fours and closer to the mat on the wall. 

you tentatively approach it, sticking your tongue out nervously and then you lick it. instead of the sweet taste of yoghurt that you were expecting. instead you’re met with a dreadfully familiar salty flavour. cum. john b’s cum specifically. smeared all over the mat for you to lick away. 

john b coaxes you, “lick it up puppy. made such a special treat, just for you.” he tells you. you know its a lie, this is for him, for him to gain pleasure from watching you lick his cum off the mat like nothing but an animal. none of this is for you. 

you lick again, and then again, and then again. you lick for minutes on end. the coldness and the texture from the mat makes your tongue feel so weird. it’s all numb and tingly. your mind goes the same way as you fully sink into that puppy headspace. 

you barely even noticed that you’ve licked the mat dry, john b has to pull your leash back, restricting you bread as you involuntarily shuffle backwards. he kneels down to you, horrid smirk plastered across his face, “good puppy. such a good girl lickin’ all that up for me.” 

you sniff, wrinkling your nose and pushing your head forward to collide with his chest. he chuckles, “gonna keep bein’ a good puppy for me tonight yeah? got plenty more treats for ya.”

[mars101]

S1E16: y/n fell even more

WRITTEN PART -> (0.7k) -> ss after text

OUTSIDE ON THE SNOWY PATHWAY WERE YUNHO AND Y/N. The two hand in hand enjoying the comfortable silence between them. Y/n's eyes wandered around, gazing at the snow falling while Yunho's eyes stayed glued onto the sight of her.

“I used to hate the cold.” Y/n said as she uses her other hand to bundle herself deeper in the scarf around her neck. “Last year on our trip, it was me and Liz inside sipping on hot chocolate while everyone else was outside.”

Yunho makes the two of them stop in their tracks as he moves to stand in front of Y/n. “What changed this year?” He says with a teasing smile.

“Come on, do I really have to say it?”

“You know what I want to hear,”

“You..” She grudgingly says.

He leans down closer, turning his head so his ear is right by Y/n's lips, “I'm sorry, what was that?-” Yunho's smile stays glued on his face as he feels Y/n's breath tickle his ear.

“Oh my god, it's you! Some guy named Jeong Yunho came along this time and made this year different.”

“A bad kind of different?”

Y/n's hands rest on Yunho's cheeks as she turns his face so that they're eye to eye. “It's the good kind of different.” At her words, Yunho nudges his face closer so that his lips plant a soft peck on Y/n's own lips.

Despite the cold feeling that the flakes of snow bring around the two lovers, they feel nothing but warmth from each other through their connected lips. Yunho can't help to engulf Y/n's face in his hold as he parts their lips so he can plant little kisses all over her skin.

“Oh my god! Yunho- You're drowning me with kisses-”

“What a way to go then,” He cuts himself off to leave one last exaggerated kiss on Y/n's lips. Smiles are shared through the kiss, and giggles escape their mouths as they continue on walking together hand in hand.

“These two are disgusting by the way..”

“Mingi shhhh-”

At the sound of whispers, the couple (actually, it was only y/n..) turned their heads to the source of the sound, and all they saw was a bush shaking and the view of a phone case with a large cat charm sticking out the top of the bush.

With a confused but knowing expression on her face, Y/n turns back to Yunho but before she could say or do anything, her foot slips on a thin sheet of ice making her land into Yunho’s arms. Again.

A gasp escapes Yunho's mouth as he looks down at Y/n with stars in his eyes. “You know what this means, Y/n? The Earth thinks you're meant to be in my arms..” He leans in to kiss her once more, but before their lips touch, a hand on his chest stops him.

“Do you see them??” Y/n whispers against his lips.

“S-see who..? Who's there..?” He tries to move his head to look, but instead, Y/n's hand grabs ahold of it.

“I don't know- But I do know I see San's stupid phone case I bought him.”

“Oh! Are they watching? Let's see how long we can stay still before they say something.”

Y/n lets herself go limp in Yunho's arms, “Are you sure you can hold me for so long?” In response to her words, Yunho decides to lift up Y/n's legs to fully carry her.

“I could do this all day.”

“Can you guys just kiss instead of doing whatever this is, please??”

As the couple turn their heads they're met with the sight of an annoyed Wooyoung standing with his hands on his hips, Mingi sitting on the ground with his hair and hoodie covered in snow, and San wearing a hat, sunglasses, and fake mustache while holding his phone up.

“…Yeah, sorry, Y/n and Yunho, I'll put my phone away..”

synopsis = the ‘college experience’ for some it includes joining a frat/sorority or parties every night or drowning in the amount of school work. but for y/n it means making a podcast with her friends…

previous/next

smau masterlist

taglist:

@atzhouse, @boomhoon , @sanasour , @loonaluvz , @mingis-mizu, @iminluv1117 , @mimikittysblog , @miniature-tragedy , @wooyoomeow , @roserperfume , @staytinyluv , @n4migrl , @tinyteezer , @mooniicore , @yvnhoos

[numine]

Can I request a Kinich x FEM reader who is a bit muscular like him (I mean he is athletic 😂) pure fluff please?

STRENGTH IN SILENCE

pairings: kinich x muscular!reader

cw: none

author notes: dinner served, sorry this took a while anon! not beta read

The sun had just begun to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the training grounds. Kinich stood tall, his dark hair ruffling gently in the evening breeze. His chartreuse eyes glimmered in the fading light, scanning the area as if searching for something unseen. His hand rested on the pommel of his claymore, the weapon almost blending into his silhouette. He had a way of being both part of the land and apart from it, rooted and detached all at once.

Nearby, you were stretching, your muscular frame moving with ease despite the hours of training already behind you. Every step, every motion, was fluid, controlled. Muscles honed from years of hard work rippled beneath your skin, but there was something different today—something that made Kinich's usually calm gaze linger a little longer.

You caught his eyes for a moment, offering him a grin. "Ready for another round?"

Kinich didn't answer immediately. Instead, he let his eyes follow the way you moved, the grace with which you flowed through each stretch. A faint smile tugged at his lips. You always did impress him, though he never made a big show of it. His admiration for you ran deep, but it was in quiet gestures—the steady way he watched you, the way his hand subtly flexed around the hilt of his claymore as if eager to fight by your side.

You didn’t mind the silence. It was something you’d grown used to, the unspoken understanding that passed between you. His presence was steady—calm, even in the midst of your chaos. And that was something you cherished.

With a final stretch, you took your stance, muscles taut and ready. The training grounds were your sanctuary, a place where you could push yourself beyond your limits, and Kinich's presence was always there, grounding you without a word. He didn't need to speak to support you. His quiet strength was more than enough.

You began your drills, each movement sharp and calculated, your body working in perfect harmony. Kinich, as always, watched, his chartreuse eyes focused on every precise motion you made. There was a sort of reverence in the way he looked at you, and although he never voiced it, you could feel it in the air between you.

You pushed yourself harder that evening. Your body ached with each repetition, but the adrenaline kept you going. The familiar burn in your muscles became a reminder of how far you’d come. Kinich never wavered, never turned away. He simply watched, his presence unwavering, like the calm center of a storm.

After what felt like hours, you finally paused, chest heaving as you wiped sweat from your brow. Your breath came in quick, heavy gasps. You looked over to Kinich, whose silent gaze never faltered. There was a small, almost imperceptible smile on his face now, the kind that was reserved for moments like these.

"Pushing yourself again?" he asked, his voice low but warm. His Dendro vision seemed to resonate with the very air around you, calming the tense muscles in your body.

"Always," you replied, trying to catch your breath. "Can't help it."

Kinich took a step closer, his large form looming over you, and there was something in the way he looked at you—something that made your heart skip. His eyes softened, and though his words were few, they carried weight. "I'm proud of you."

The words hung in the air for a moment, a simple acknowledgment, but it was enough. Kinich wasn't one for excessive praise. His pride in you wasn't something you needed to hear often, but when it came, it felt like the most meaningful thing in the world. You smiled, a genuine, grateful smile that lit up your face.

"You're not so bad yourself." you teased, nudging his shoulder playfully. The weight of his claymore didn't shift as he steadied himself, but the gentle way he looked at you told you everything you needed to know.

He laughed softly, the sound as rare as it was calming. It wasn't loud or boisterous, but it carried a quiet warmth, just like the man himself.

"I'll never stop watching you," Kinich said, his voice soft, almost too soft for you to hear over the wind. "You have more strength than you realize."

And you knew he meant more than just physical strength. He'd always seen you for more than just your body—he saw the drive, the fire in you, and that was what drew him to you. Kinich wasn’t the type to speak in grand declarations, but when he did speak, it was from the heart.

You looked at him, your heart racing with something more than just admiration. Something deeper. You reached for his hand, pressing your fingers against his warm skin, a silent thanks for everything—his presence, his quiet strength, and the way he loved you without ever needing to shout it.

"Maybe one day I'll be as strong as you." you said softly, your eyes meeting his.

Kinich's gaze softened further, his fingers brushing against yours. "You already are."

And in that moment, as the sun finally set and the stars began to twinkle above, you realized that the quiet bond you shared with him was stronger than any words could ever convey.

[treviso-nights]

how art thou fallen from heaven - solrook / chapter 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

fic summary: when rook first ends up in the regret-prison with solas after a nightmare, he taunts her, and she responds in kind. one way or another, solas is going to realize: varric chose rook to stop him for a reason. what he isn't prepared for is how his enemy makes him feel. has the dread wolf finally found someone to abandon his plight for? (spoiler alert: the answer is no.) a true enemies to lovers tale. word count: 2.2k chapter summary: rook and solas have another verbal sparring match. however, when solas offers unexpected guidance, rook finally realizes there very well may be someone worth listening to underneath the dread wolf's mask. read chapter 1 read on AO3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The second time Rook has the nightmare, Solas is there, waiting in his prison as usual.

Exhales rip through her like a whirlwind, and Rook, far more aware of his presence this time, swallows the rest of it down, where it can dissemble and die in her chest like the nonsense it is.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rook gripes, tearing a hand through her long, loose curls. The lilac in them, so muted by the austerity of the prison’s atmosphere, resembles a curtain of bloodless vines weaving together and then apart again, dancing violently where her fingertips cleave through the waves. 

Solas gazes at her impassively, both hands already pressed behind his back. “Hello to you, too.”

“Creators,” she chokes out, laughing. “At this point, I should just move in with you.”

Solas ignores her, eyes tracking the shakiness of her next inhale, the sweat coating her neck and collar bones. “I take it you had another nightmare? Based on the terror I sensed from our magical bond, that is.”

As her breaths slow to a normal cadence, Rook takes the moment to observe the spatial rift in between her and the Dread Wolf. She isn’t certain if the shadows near the bottom are a mirage or the tangible outline of bedrock—or some other rubble. According to Neve, Bellara, and Emmrich, rules governing physicality within the Fade are malleable at best and downright malicious at worst. Depending on who the Fade is mirroring. 

Still. The idea is largely tempting.

“If I throw myself into that chasm, will it spirit me away from you again?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. “No pun intended, naturally.”

There is the distinct sensation that the chasm below smiles along with Solas, the quiet hunger in the gesture a small dart to the belly. “It’s hard to say,” he replies. “It’s more likely that you would awake in the Lighthouse, your conscious mind shattered from the death it would face here.”

Well, damn.

“By all means, jump,” he adds, motioning to the crevasse. And though the lilt in his voice remains steady and musical, the darkness of the words permeates the air around her. 

“Creators, I might. If only to escape the depths of your endless superiority. Who knows? It might be contagious, like a virus. Or a fever. Or flesh-eating necrosis.”

The subsequent scrunch of his nose tips Rook off—she annoys him. Good! The realization makes her smile, lips pulling up at the corners. No teeth. Yet. 

The next exhale from Solas is a sigh, and for the first time since their unfortunate introduction, he folds his arms across his chest. 

A typically defensive signal.

Now, there’s a bit of honesty. 

“You’re quite… unpleasant, aren’t you?” he chides.

Years of Crow training prompts Rook to further scrutinize every shift in posture, expression, and tone of voice. There might be a chasm separating them from each other, but she still doesn’t know if Solas is able to cast magic in this prison. Asking him about it would only give him leverage—the knowledge that she remains perfectly ready to either flee or fight.

For now, it seems that they continue to be at an impasse.

“I’m an extremely pleasant person!” she chirps back, mirroring his posture. A mild breeze scatters her hair about her face. “In fact, I even started a book club at the Lighthouse.”

At this, Solas quirks an eyebrow, the violet in his gaze glinting. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

She can’t help but smile again. Usually, Rook is a well-practiced liar, but there’s something about Solas that supersedes this instinct to deceive. Instead, Rook finds that she wants to mock him. Incessantly. Forever, if she can. 

“You’re right,” Rook admits. “I didn’t start the club. Bellara, our eluvian expert, did. But I attend all of the meetings, so… close enough, right?”

The prison’s subsequent silence punctuates Solas’s disapproval. “This is what you prioritize when the Evanuris work to destroy and enslave the entire world?”

“Oh, pipe down.” A dimple begins to peek out from one cheek. “The eluvians may have revolutionized how we travel from place to place, but you know as well as I—logistics take time. We’re only as strong and as swift as our allies.”

At first, the expression on his face is tight, twisting his angular features with objection. 

When several heartbeats pass, they smooth a bit, eventually leveling out into the Dread Wolf’s regular affect. Polite. Curious. Patient.

“Indeed, as I am captive here for the foreseeable future, I have no choice but to support your endeavors and hope that your… book club does not detract from the efficacy of your actions.”

Captive. The word does not escape Rook’s attention, nor the intention behind it. Of course the Dread Wolf would think he’s captive, as if he isn’t the victim of his own arrogant machinations. Rook stows this observation away. After all, an assassin must approach every interaction like they would a mark awaiting enticement: meticulously, taking painstaking measures to end up with your back against the wall. It is imperative that the seduced feel powerful boxing you in. Those inebriated by the sensation of conquest are rarely if ever careful, and nothing excites a hungry wolf more than their prey immobilized and trapped within jaws’ reach.

Rook throws Solas a wink, the dark curtain of her lashes fluttering against a freckled cheekbone. “If you have a book recommendation, Dread Wolf, I can always be the liaison between here and the Lighthouse.” She then places a calloused hand over her heart. 

“Besides, to my great and absolute misfortunate, it seems that the nightmares are further attuning my subconscious mind to the blood magic. I’m sure you’ll see me soon enough.” 

The smirk on her face dampens.

“Probably far sooner than you’d wish.”

Inclining his chin, Solas at last releases the arms from his chest. “Indeed. You seem to be haunted by the echoes of your memories.” His lips tug at the corners. “A quality we both share. As long as the nightmares persist, you should expect to return here often.”

Frustration ripples along her veins, but she manages to freeze the smile on her face. “I’m so looking forward to it. You know how much I enjoy our conversations.”

Rook almost misses the slackening of his expression, distracted by the idea of having so little control over her own mind. She should be better than this. Another Crow would be better at this. She wants to yell, the urge rising up in her throat.

There isn’t any kind of training which would adequately address the circumstances. Mastery over the subconscious is one thing—fledgelings complete a myriad of exercises to better understand and gain proficiency over hidden impulses. The Crows even offer instruction on how to counteract blood magic using herbs, charms, and preemptive measures. 

But a blood magic connection? While sleeping?

“Mugwort.” And it is his voice that snaps Rook out of her self-reproach. Finding purchase within his amethyst eyes, she listens with full attention to his next reply.

“For nightmares,” he clarifies. “Or chamomile, lavender, and sweet hops. Many will dry the flowers in satchels and hang them by their bed. I would personally suggest brewing them in tea, however.”

 The absence of anything sharp and hard within her is a sudden scream tumbling into the dark abyss between them.

Rook nods, sucking the inside of one cheek. “I’m already familiar with those. Crow training. To be honest, I’m not sure why they’d work now. They haven't before.” 

Solas’s furrowed brow reveals his curiosity.

She sighs and lowers her gaze, preferring to fix it on the pebbly ruins beneath her feet. “This is an ‘echo’ that has lingered for quite some time,” Rook elaborates.

When he doesn’t immediately respond, Rook nods again, swallowing. Lilac curls caress the sides of her face and neck.

“Well. Thanks for the verbal sparring match!” she huffs. “And thanks for trying to help, I guess—”

“Lyrium.”

“What?”

Solas’s voice is suddenly soft and confident, and it is eerily similar to how the morning’s rays slowly, carefully, warm the landscape below. 

“Have one of your companions brew the tea for you. A mage. Adding small amounts of lyrium while the tea steeps is a good way to block nightmares, as lyrium enhances the flowers’ properties. Because you are not a mage, you will not be lucid and in control while you dream. Your dreams will also be somewhat more vivid, so it is something to consider beforehand. However, the nightmares will stop.” The serene expression on his face relaxes even further.

Rook doesn’t know what to do with this. Can he see her confusion? Can he feel her heart sink into her gut? Her curls, also unmoored, twist wildly in the prison’s breeze, dancing over her eyes.

She does not brush them away.

“Why help me now? With this?”

“It is the practical thing to do,” Solas answers, lips curving. “You are the last bastion against Elgar’nan and Ghillan’nain, after all.”

Rook’s reciprocal smile mirrors the strange, amicable energy the two of them somehow manage to create. “Someone has to be.”

“Indeed.” And though his smile remains, a slight tightness at the corners of his eyes relays a new emotion she can’t quite place. “And, Rook? I am not the monster you wish me to be. I find no comfort in your suffering.”

That… isn’t what she expects.

And Rook is not sure she believes him.

Still. It would be a nice sentiment if he did mean it.

“Come on. Be honest,” she teases. “Not even a little bit?”

At this, Solas grins, the gesture so unexpected and shocking that Rook fights the urge to physically step back.

Because it is not the grin of a predator.

“Perhaps, at times,” he chuckles. Curiously, this particular gesture fades much faster than the smile, leaving a distinct, strange sorrow in his visage.  “Certainly not, however, when it concerns memories of a time better off forgotten. That is a pain I do not wish upon many.”

Rook frowns. “No. I don’t want to forget these memories. I can’t afford to.”

“Why not?”

Her reply comes swiftly. Easily. She thinks nothing of it. “They make me who I am.”

However, the desire to step back, to retreat, surges again, when astonishment tumbles across his features, revealing a very blank, very vulnerable expression beneath his favored mask of benevolence and civility.

For a few horrifying seconds, Rook imagines that this is what Solas actually looks like. When his face is stripped bare of all pretense and pretending. That he truly is curious and wise. 

Unlocked, at the core.

The shock, the near-revulsion of this realization forces Rook to clamp her muscles against the instinct to flee. Absently, she contemplates examining this violent reaction, but Solas recovers first, something like uncertainty in his voice. 

As if she is the wolf he needs to anticipate.

“Forgive my reaction. I was not expecting to find more similarities between us.” There is no smile on his face now, though his tone is anything but unkind. Meanwhile, the amethyst in his gaze simmers, growing more insistent with each breath. “Especially this one.”

The breeze promptly returns, twisting her curls back into her eyes again. “Oh, well… don’t worry about it. I won’t tell anyone,” Rook manages to say. For good measure, she winks—imitating her earlier gesture. 

But this time, she finds she means it.

“I suppose you’ll know if the tea works based on how soon you see me again.”

Rook, by some unspoken observation, gets the distinct impression Solas feels as dazed as she does. A slight spasming of the hands at his sides lets her know that he probably wishes to hide them behind his back, but it is the fact that he does not, that he lets them hang loosely, at his hips, which is most conspicuous. 

“Just in case, I’ll have a few people test the tea for safety beforehand. But be warned, Wolf Boy,” Rook laughs, raking a hand through her curls, “If the lyrium fucks me up because I am not a mage and you have forgotten about adverse effects in the many, many millennia you’ve been alive, I will come back here. On purpose. And I will recite one of Bellara’s Maker-awful Tevine newspaper serials from start to finish as punishment.” 

“Fair enough,” Solas replies, beaming. His answering laugh seems to stir the prison at large, clearing away the worst of the smog in the atmosphere. Rook’s attention, while momentarily drawn there, doesn’t hinder Solas from regarding her with a mirthful, wisteria-tinted gaze.

“I suppose, then, that I would deserve such a fate.”

Rook hums, silvery eyes flashing. “You suppose right.”

[mariacallous]

For a new world we need new words.

Facing the coming Musk-Trump regime, we will have to be creative. It will not be enough just to rely on the standard terms that come to easily to our lips and pens ("administration," "presidency", and the like). That normalizes the abnormal.

And to repeat unreflectively the words that Musk and Trump and other mumpers use is to take part in the transformation that they bring. Opposition requires clarity and clarity requires concepts. "Mump regime" is one I propose.

As I explained in the last post, "Mump regime," Musk+Trump, keeps the two men who currently matter the most, Elon Musk and Donald Trump, in the proper order.

Musk matters more than Trump. He is the one with the money, the one to whom Trump owes debts. Musk also has a much more lively sense of his own interests and more energy generally. When the two men's ideas clash, as over China in the recent shutdown dispute, Musk gets his way.

"Mump regime" also keeps front and center the basic issue of illness. Democracy is closely connected to health. The historic path to modern political peace and the rule of law led through two stages: vaccines and institutions of public health. Americans have never broke through to a universal health insurance system, and the associated disease, death, fear and poverty is a central problem for our democracy. Now the mumpers and the mumpets are threatening to take away vaccination, which could kill millions of people. One of the diseases it would bring back is, precisely, mumps. Some of the others are far worse.

"Mump regime" is also better, at this point, than "MAGA." That term was always Trump's propaganda, and Trump simply does matter as he once did. So “MAGA” is not only misleading but obsolete.

MAGA stands for "Make America Great Again." "Make" -- no one is going to make anything. "America" -- the people in charge are largely from elsewhere, and America is no mumper's object of concern. "Great" -- small and fractures is more likely. "Again" -- this level of oligarchy is new, as is the fascist language. We have moved on from a politics of eternity, an obsession with an imaginary past, to a politics of catastrophe.

"Mump regime," on the contrary, helps us to confront a real future. We are heading for a situation in which the fracturing of the government is deliberate and the weakness of the society desired. Some people talk of being the change they want to see in the world; the mumpers are the catastrophe their ideology tells them is inevitable.

And "Mump regime" prepares us mentally for the very real possibility that this form of politics can go on without Trump.

Musk himself is obviously completely unconcerned by the results of elections; it means nothing to him that people voted for Trump. Indeed, the fact that he was able to use a meaninglessly small portion of his wealth to get Trump in office can only breed contempt of both the man and his electorate.

Musk's current public humiliation of Trump may very well be part of a plan. Make the man look weak; and then make him look crazy; and then invoke Article 25 of the Constitution and put him to bed. I am not saying that I am sure that this will happen: but rather that it is the kind of thing that would be normal in a Mump regime but would be all but unthinkable in a "presidency" or an "administration."

Trump is a fake rich person, and Musk is the richest person on earth (except, possibly, Putin). Trump is crazy like an improv comedian, but Musk is crazy like a guy with satellites. Musk surely understands, even if Trump does not, that the welter of policies we will see in the first six months of the Mump regime will be contradictory and chaotic.

Where does popular sentiment go when tariffs increase prices, as they must? When Canada and Mexico enforce countermeasures which push prices still higher? And when government spending on deportations (which would, at least as planned, cost about a trillion dollars) also brings inflation?

And that is just one example. Will Americans actually like a defense department and an FBI designed for domestic conflict? If all of this goes crazily wrong, Trump will be to blame. It is at least worth considering the possibility that Musk foresees all this.

At the moment, left-wing commentators laugh that J.D. Vance has disappeared from public view, displaced by Musk. Thinking of a Mump regime helps us to see Vance's absence differently. There cannot be MAGA without Trump, but there can be Mump without Trump. For Musk and for kindred oligarchs, Vance is a more natural ally than Trump. He speaks their language and seems to believe the libertarian-fascist amalgam according to which government itself is doomed and therefor a strong man must rule. Vance was chosen by the oligarchs to be vice-president.

In the two scenarios above -- Musk drives Trump visibly crazy; six months of chaos is blamed on Trump-- Vance would be the successor. Staying in the background for now thus makes perfect sense for Vance. A quiet Vance does not look crazy, and is not tainted by Trump's six months of chaos. He is available when Musk is ready to move on from Trump.

As Musk once tweeted, "we will coup whoever we want." Whoever we want.

We also need a term like "the Mump regime" to classify Republicans. It offers a vocabulary that helps us to sort people out according to their involvement in and fealty towards Musk. The people who are active in the Mump regime are mumpers. The people who go along are mumpets.

But not all Republicans are mumpers, only a select few -- and, indeed, Musk and Trump and Vance lack a traditional Republican background. The mumpers are a select group, like a politburo: a few people, who can brought in and pushed out. Those beyond the small circle of mumpers who support the Mump regime are mumpets, a much broader group.

Plenty of Republicans follow Musk. But these are not the same people, exactly, who would follow Trump. And as we have seen from recent votes on the shutdown, there are Republican elected officials who are not mumpets. Not all Republicans actually want to see Congress rendered obsolete by one-man rule and the United States cease to exist as a republic.

With terms like "Mump regime," "mumpers," and "mumpets" we can parse the present reality and prepare for the future much better than we can with "presidential administration," "Republicans," or "MAGA."

"Mump regime" also gives us adjectives, like "mumpy," "mumpier," or "mumpified." Beyond domestic politics, it can help us towards understanding (topic for another post) the United States as "the sick man of the world" in foreign policy, as we will likely be.

Musk is right that he is bringing something new; what he is not bringing is a tyranny so great that we cannot think for ourselves and name things for ourselves. Indeed, holding tyranny back begins with just that.

[gammija]

post adressed to like 5 people but ive been reading the martin blackwood tag cause i miss my man, and theres a few posts bemoaning martins UWU-ification in some fanon. Which, fair enough, but i do think the pendulum can swing too far back to 'the guy has no morals and will kill without hesitation' - for the biggest part of the show, while he mightve not always been nice, he did want everyone to get along. by the time he starts advocating for murdering 'monsters' he has literally been through several hells

[scarlettfevor]

Finally got ahold of the audiobook of Penance by Eliza Clark and I have mixed emotions about it. On one hand I love the premise and I feel like it's written well enough to where I feel like the author isn't going to clumsily stumble through her own story and fall on her face at the end like the majority of popular thrillers. But also this story suffers from having someone who hasn't been in school for a long time attempting to write teenagers. The funny thing is that whenever I see a horrible portrayal of teenagers, specifically of zoomers its never like, inaccurate portrayals of slang and trends that most teenagers cringe at, it's extremely unnatural dialogue that I don't understand how even a 30 or 40 year old can't see how awkward and cringe and flat out bad of a portrayal they're doing. You can claim that it's regional differences, even if we were all teenagers once I still don't know what it's like to be a popular mean British girl, but I'm fairly certain that actual popular mean British girls don't go around describing themselves as popular mean girls. The funny thing is that they've mentioned several times that these girls (ok it was actually like one girl but she introduced too many characters and I got confused so I can't even remember the name of the girl who said it) are trying to imitate the mean girls in popular American shows/movies. But I think that it's SO funny how instead of going for the obvious Regina George or maybe the more posh Blair Waldorf, they chose Sharpay Evans....I'm very familiar with the popular mean girl trope because I always love the girls who fall into this category and I can say with 100% certainty that none of these girls act like this either. I don't know what the author is going for but it's very painful to listen to.

[ccbatman]

I once said that I thought Steph would make a great Black Canary, and I still think that's one of the realest takes I've ever had.

Like, this moment seared itself into my head and never faded:

{ Robin 80-Page Giant }

[tanadrin]

And God said, "Behold! I have created the fourth primordial force: the weak interaction!"

And the angels all clapped and nodded politely, and there was a long silence; and finally Verchiel, the Angel of Grace, spoke up and asked, "Er, what exactly does it do, O Fashioner?"

And God said, "What do you mean, 'what does it do?' It's the fourth fundamental force of the universe."

And Verchiel said, "You mentioned that. Um. But it's just that the other three sort of have a brand, you know? Gravity helps build large-scale structures, acts over vast cosmic distances, shapes time and space. The strong force is secret, hidden, binding together quarks and all that. Electromagnetism, very cool stuff, somewhere in between. We're all big fans of the whole magnetic monopole double bluff, very clever. But, er. What does this 'weak interaction' do?"

And God said, "It mediates radioactive decay. Sort of."

And Verchiel said, "Radioactive decay? All radioactive decay?"

And God said, "No. Just some kinds."

And Zephaniel, the Chief of the Ishim spoke, and he said, "A whole independent force just to mediate some kinds of radioactive decay?"

And God said, "Well. Not totally independent. Technically it's related to electromagnetism."

And Zephaniel said, "Wait, it's not even a real force?"

And God said, "It's totally a real force. It's just that it's one aspect of a combined electromagnetic and weak force. An electro-weak force, if you will."

And Metatron, the Celestial Scribe, scratched his head at this, but said nothing.

And Cambiel, the Angel of Transformation, said, "Maybe you can walk us through it from the top."

And God Sighed an immense Sigh, and said, "All right, fine.

"So the way it works is that all of space and time is permeated by a field that has imaginary mass."

And Cambiel said, "Imaginary mass, O Generous Provider?"

And God said, "Yes, imaginary mass. It's tachyonic, d'you see?"

And Sarathiel, the Angel of Discipline, said, "Wait a minute, I thought we agreed nothing was going to travel faster than light? All that 'c' business and the whole Lorentz transformation thing. What's happening with that?"

And God said, "Let me finish. The field is tachyonic. The particles in the field all move slower than light."

And Sarathiel had to think about this for a second.

And God said, "The point is, a field with imaginary mass has a non-zero vacuum expectation value."

And this really gave Sarathiel trouble, since he had never been very good at math.

And God, seeing this, went back to explain. "Most fields, like the electromagnetic field, have no effect when they are at their lowest energy state. It's like they're not there at all. If you give a field imaginary mass, then it vanishes only when it's at a very high energy state, and at a low energy state, it has a nonzero value everywhere."

And Sarathiel nodded, but he was confused, because he didn't understand why God would create such a thing.

But Verchiel thought he saw where God was going with this, and he was amazed.

"Truly, you are cunning beyond measure, O Only One Certainly Sound and Genuine in Truth! Only now do I understand your design! For in order to make the universe homogenous and isotropic, it is necessary that all large-scale fluctuations in temperature and mass must be evened out early in the history of the cosmos; and therefore, you have designed a field which will rapidly expand space after the Big Bang, many orders of magnitude in brief moments, and then swiftly and spontaneously decay as it gives up the energy it began with, giving rise to radiation and particles of all kinds as it does, which will condense into the material universe! It is a wonder to behold."

And God said, "What? No. I mean I did, but this isn't the inflaton field I'm talking about. This is something else."

And Verchiel said, "Wait, it's not?"

And God said, "No, I'm going to use a different field to drive cosmic inflation. The properties of this field are totally different."

And now Verchiel was also confused, and lapsed into silence.

And God said, "Like I was saying, this field is a scalar field with imaginary mass, and it does spontaneously decay to a ground state with a non-zero value. But it's not the inflaton field. Instead it combines with the W1, W2, W3, and B bosons."

And Metatron began to flip back through the pages of the Heavenly Record trying to figure out where he'd lost the thread.

And Zephaniel said, "The what bosons?"

And God said, "The W1, W2, W3, and B bosons. I'm sure I mentioned them. You know, the massless bosons?"

And Zephaniel said, "I'm pretty sure we only talked about the W+, W-, and Z0 bosons. All of which you said were going to have mass, O Owner of All Sovereignty."

And God said, "Yes, but this is how they get them, you see. Once this field acquires a nonzero value everywhere, the massless bosons interact with it and get mass. Well, some of them do. They turn into the W+, W-, and Z0 boson. And the photon."

And Zephaniel said, "…and the photon, O Accepter of Invocation?"

And God said, "Well, I did say I was going to unify the electromagnetic force and the weak interaction, didn't I? This is how. Above the critical temperature--right now I'm thinking 10^15 K, but I'm open to feedback on that one--electromagnetism and the weak force act as a single unifying force. Below that temperature, the field gets a nonzero value, you get three massive bosons to mediate the weak interaction, and the photon pops out seperately."

And Zephaniel said, "That seems… a bit overly complicated, doesn't it, O Reinstater Who Brings Back All?"

And God said, "No, it's exactly what we need. Look, that way the W and Z bosons have something to do, but the weak interaction still only travels short distances. Gravity is still the star of the show on cosmic scales, as it were. But now quarks and leptons can swap their flavor!"

And Zephaniel said, rather weakly, "Their… flavor, O Source of Good?"

And God said, "It's this new quantum number I'm trying out, to give the three generations of matter more unique identities."

And Cambiel said, "Three generations of matter? Now I'm really confused."

And God said, "I'm sure I mentioned this. You've got the lightest quarks and leptons, and then two heavier versions of each that can decay into the lighter versions."

And Cambiel said, "What do they do? New kinds of chemistry, is it?"

And God said, "Well, no. Mostly they just decay in a couple microseconds. Or even faster."

And Zephaniel began to rub his temples, and Cambiel sniffed.

And Cambiel said, "This all seems a bit ad hoc to me. Not really the stuff of an elegant and obviously ordered Creation. Why not have four generations of matter? Why not a trillion?"

And God began to grow irritable, and said, "Well, that's not really up to you, now is it? We're going to have three generations of matter, and the electroweak force, and that's that!"

And Zephaniel said, "As long as we are unifying fundamental forces, perhaps we could somehow also unify the electroweak interaction with the strong interaction, or even gravity."

And God hesitated saying, "Well, I haven't decided about that yet. I'm not sure I want gravity to be quantized, you know? Seems to take some of the geometric elegance out of general relativity."

And now it was Zephaniel's turn to sigh, and he bowed his head. "As you wish, O Possessor of Authority of Decisions and Judgement."

[readwritealldayallnight]

You know the woman in line behind you is getting impatient, hearing her not so subtle exasperated sigh as you continue to search through your bag, your cheeks burning a deeper shade of crimson when you catch the barista’s tight lipped smile in your direction, her attempt at reassuring you as part of her job, though you can tell she wishes you’d hurry up as well

As if your debit card declining a mortifying four times hadn’t been enough, but then your attempt at using your credit card was just as unsuccessful, the sound of the failed transaction on a stupid 6£ drink sounding out for everyone in queue to know how broke you really were

Embarrassment coursing through your veins, already thinking about how you’ll never have the guts to come back to this cafe again as you desperately search for enough spare change at the bottom of your purse to cover this morning’s coffee, your scrambling comes to a pause when a large shadow suddenly eclipses the overheard lighting above you

In the midst of your frantic searching, a tall figure has come to stand just next to you, their gloved hand stretching past your figure to tap a card against the machine, the happy beep of the teller confirming the transaction’s been accepted this time

“I’ve got tha’ for ya.” A deep, gravelly Manchester accent mutters low enough for only you to hear, before the figure tries to retreat back into queue unnoticed

You eyebrows shoot up in shock, the barista equally appearing surprised but not displeased as she finally gets to hand you your drink and quickly wish you a good day before she’s already trying to help the woman waiting behind you

You step aside out of the queue, swinging your head around to try and spot your mystery saviour who stepped in and helped you out without even needing so much as a thanks in return apparently

You spot him instantly, the absolute size of him easily giving him away. No one else in the small cafe could have created such a large, intimidating shadow, let alone spoken in such a deep voice that sent chills down your spine

He stands a head above anyone else in queue, currently last in the line after he stepped out to pay for you. He’s wearing a simple black medical mask on the lower half of his face, a black hoodie with the hood pulled over his head offers you only a small glimpse of his eyes, which are noticeably pointed at the ground at the moment

You’re walking towards him before you even realize it

“Th- thank you. I don’t-” You’re cut off when those same eyes glance up to meet your own, stealing your breath away. He seems almost as surprised that you’re speaking to him as you were when he stepped in and paid for you, his eyes betraying his shock for only a fraction of a second before he’s steeling himself and his eyes darken. You get the vague impression that he isn’t someone who’s used to being caught off guard

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here.” You say to him, wanting to express just how grateful you are to him for his random act of kindness, but he says nothing in return, hardly blinking once as he simply stares back at you

“I can’t understand why my cards weren’t working today. I promise I don’t like- this isn’t a thing I do. Go into coffee shops and pretend I can’t pay, hoping someone else will…” You awkwardly laugh to yourself, beginning to ramble in an effort to fill in the silence

“Anyways I just, really wanted to say thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.” You’re scrambling now, attempting to save face as this man just looks at you, an arm beginning to swing your purse off your shoulder in hopes of maybe finding enough change to appease this guy

“Not necessary.” The deep voice finally says again, his eyes leaving yours to scan you from top to bottom and then back up again, almost examining the sight before him. You almost feel like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, seeing the mask moving along with the sound of that gravelly voice an enrapturing vision

“Oh- well I- I mean that’s really nice of you, but I swear I can pay you back.” You recognize that feeling beginning to swirl low in your stomach, familiar with the warmth gathering in the apples of your cheeks; your body realizing it a split second before your brain catches up. You’re kind of into this guy. You can’t see much of his face, but the sliver you do see certainly isn’t unattractive, his height and build speaks for itself, with a voice like that and the fact that he’s just saved your butt and expected not even a thanks in return, you’re wondering if he’s too good to be true

“Do you come here often?” You’re asking him before you can stop yourself, watching a single one of his eyebrows arching ever so slightly. “I just mean that- I come here a lot- sometimes. And if you’re here next time I’m here, then maybe I can pay you back, buy you a drink.”

You’re losing confidence the longer he stands there, not answering. What were you thinking? This guy was just trying to be nice, get the annoying girl holding up the line out of the way so that people can order their drinks and go about their day, and here you are holding him up even longer-

“If it’ll make ya happy.” He’s suddenly answering, snapping you out of your downward spiral. If you could see the grin that slowly creeps upon your face, you might be otherwise embarrassed, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Oh okay, amazing. I mean- yeah that would- that would be cool. Okay.” You reply, glancing at your watch. “I’m not sure for you, but um, I’m almost always here each Sunday. Around this time.”

“I’ll be here next Sunday. Around this time.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Next in line please.” The barista at the corner calls out, interrupting the two of you. You glance back to see that it’s now his turn to order, feeling bad that you’re about to hold up the queue yet again.

“Great. I’ll see you Sunday then. Thank you again, seriously. I really owe you one.” You say, gripping the straps of your bag tighter as you offer him a sheepish smile before ducking out of the busy cafe, a small grin playing across your face.

Ghost watches your figure through the large windows as you walk out of the shop, across the street, disappearing into the crowd of morning goers strolling about. Only once he cannot see you anymore, does he walk up to the counter, slipping a 20£ note to the barista along with a slight nod of acknowledgement, before he himself is turning to walk out of the cafe, empty handed, intent on catching up to you from a distance.

~~~~~~~~~~

AKA Ghost has been stalking you for months and finally comes up with a way to have you approach him

[fairy-angel222]

Being older bf! Toji’s sweet dolly gf.

Everybody wonders just how it even happened. He was so big and broody, face always serious as he peered down at people with hard glares. But you.. you were so sweet. Everyone loved you, thought you were the most darling girl in town.

You were always so kind to people, smiling brightly as you engaged in conversation with almost anyone, easily lighting up their day with your gentle tone.

You’re a joy to be around, your presence was soft, warm.. welcoming. His was mean, scary even. It was a strange mixture. Not to mention how much bigger he is compared to you. His tall height and broad body engulfing yours completely when his arm wraps around your waist.

Your hand tight in his as you two walked down the street. Intertwined fingers swinging as you attempted to tug him into the direction when something caught your eye. Batting your lashes up at him with an innocent tilt of your head. “Daddy.. can you buy me this? Pretty please?”

He thinks he spoils you too much, only chuckling deeply before letting you drag him into the store with a squeal. The singular item turning into bags full by the time you were ready to leave. You could hear the whispers circulating around you about you and your big boyfriend, huffing with the roll of your eyes when a girl questioned your ability to please him. To take all of him, insisting to her friend that she’d do a better job.

Of course you could take him, you did every single night. When your legs are bent onto his arms. The man’s large muscles flexing as he slid your little body up and down his cock. Using you like his own personal flesh light to stroke himself with your snug walls.

You mewl loudly, head falling back onto his shoulder as your pussy gushed messily. Toji’s large hand pressing both your legs to your chest with a smirk. Watching as your eyes filled with tears at how much deeper he could reach when he began slamming up into you roughly. Throbbing tip kissing your g spot meanly before bullying its way deep inside you- being able to feel his massive girth poking desperately at your cervix for entrance.

You let out a string of high pitched moans, body shaking as Toji fucked your tight pussy on and off his cock. Your snug grip ready to milk him dry as he groaned. “You’re so fucking perfect like this baby. Shit, pretty pussy doesn’t even wanna let me go.”

“Mmfg— d-daddy. So g-good, ‘m so close.”

“Yeah? Close f’ me already? You’re taking me so well baby. Taking daddy’s cock so far up that sopping pussy like a good girl.”

You smile with a choked cry, toes curling through your socks as you neared your orgasm. You wished that girl could see you prove her wrong, show her how well you took your boyfriend’s fat cock. Something she could never ever have.

[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.

[who-is-there]

I just started watching Dimension 20’s Fantasy high, halfway through sophomore year, and I do want a fic where people realise just how used to being part of a group the bad kids are. For example-

-I fully believe every single one of them is used to Riz climbing them so he can see better. It’s usually Gorgug, but it’s happened to all of them at some point. They might hold out their arm for him to jump onto a counter, or so he can pin a clue to his board. Before they all sit at a table, at least one of them makes sure their 4’4 friend can jump onto the table.

-Every single one of them has also caught Adaine after she had a vision. Sometimes she can just shake them off, but the big ones make her falter in what she’s doing, which can be dangerous. It happened once in a fight, and now the people standing closest to her are always ready.

-Fabian doesn’t really recognise he has a blind spot with his eye injury, because the others immediately clocked it. But this also means they walk in between him and the road, in case some idiot mounts the curb. They keep an eye on anything to his right, shifting drinks and pushing chairs if they can tell his depth perception is a little off.

-Fig usually stands in the middle of the group to intimidate people into not messing with them, so it’s sort of become habit to just crowd around her. After the battle, if no one’s seriously hurt or anything, everyone just wanders over to Fig. At this point, Fig is always the first one to yell out after a fight, just so they can regroup.

-Gorgug is the go-to for lap-sits, leaning, anything to do with being physically supported by another persons body. His hoodie is soft, and his headphones are loud enough that you can kind of hear it if you’re leaning on him. His parents weren’t great with nonchalant physical contact, in case he was already upset, so he takes great joy in his friends not being scared to hug him for fun.

-Kristin has left her staff at every single house she could with the bad kids. She leaves her bag in classrooms, the library, the cafeteria. Whenever the group leave somewhere, they do a full scan, because Kristin has probably left something and they grab it for her. No one has any clue who her bag actually belongs to, because all of the bad kids have been seen carrying it around school several times.

The school at large know who the bad kids are, and the town recognise them, but they still don’t know why all of them double check a room before leaving, or collectively carry a small stool around with them. One student with a fantasy iron deficiency faints in class and Kristin catches her before she hits the ground. Once, Fig isn’t in school for a day and all the bad kids have this restless energy about them. It is not uncommon to see them on the field during lunch, curled up in a pile on Gorgug. One guy tries to surprise Fabian from the right and gets body checked by Adaine before it even registers.

It’s sort of uncomfortable for everyone to see any of them without the others, because it means a) the rest of them committed a crime, b) the rest of them are committing a crime, or c) the rest of them are about to run in and start planning to commit a crime. And no one wants to lose their plausible deniability here.

[davinawritings]

Yandere single dad monster that sees you help one of his children once and decides you will be their new mother.

Warnings: Yandere thought/behavior

Yandere monster takes his twin children to the park so they can run around, expend some of their extra energy, and enjoy the nice weather.

He had been raising his daughter and son on his own since their mother walked out when they were still babies. Having two twin monster toddlers running around was a lot of work, but he loved his children endlessly. He would give them anything in the world and do anything to protect them, even going as far as having tiny tracking devices clipped on to them whenever they leave the house.

He had just been kneeling in front of his son to tie his shoelaces after a long afternoon of playing when he heard his daughter cry out for him. He immediately looks around, frantic, before he finally spots her sitting on the stone pathway and holding her knee.

As he stands and grabs his son in his arms, set to make his way over to his little girl, he watches as a human woman stops and kneels in front of his daughter. 

He can’t hear the words you are saying to her, but he relaxes slightly as his daughter's cries quiet down, and she smiles at you. He begins the walk over, keeping his eyes trained on the two of you, his thoughts running wild as his toddler makes her way into your arms. 

It’s almost comical watching the human woman struggle slightly to lift a toddler that must be half her size at least, but he can’t help the feeling pooling in his chest as he watches you calm and soothe her. 

He can tell you startle slightly as he appears behind you, casting a large shadow over your body. You seem to relax somewhat as you see his son in his arms, seemingly putting together the fact that the little girl you hold must be his.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to impose. I saw her trip, and I just wanted to make sure she was okay,” you say, still slightly nervous about the male, who must be at least three feet taller than you. 

He gives you what he hopes is a reassuring and friendly smile as he says, “No need to apologize. I am thankful that you were kind enough to help my daughter. She seems to like you”. 

He watches you smile shyly as his daughter hugs you tighter. You rub the girls back affectionately as you say, “Well, I am just glad she is okay and happy I could help. I’ll pass her back over to you. I was actually on my way to meet my boyfriend for dinner.”  

He makes sure to mask his disapproval of you having a boyfriend with a smile, gently taking his daughter back from your arms. He reaches out one of his large hands and gently squeezes your arm as he thanks you again. You give his daughter and son a small wave before continuing your walk through the park. 

 Pulling out his phone, he checks to ensure the tiny tracking device he slipped onto your coat is working, relaxing when he sees the little mark moving through the park. He looks at his two kids, happy he finally found the perfect mother for them. 

“Alright, little ones, it’s time to go home. We have a lot of work to do to get the house ready for Mommy to move in.” As he checks your location again, he grins, knowing that you will be his.

His human, his wife, and the mother of his children.

❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

Let me know if you guys would like to read more on this! Also if so, do you like me keeping it as a general monster or do you want it to be a specific monster?