#fear is not how you should rule yourself or others

[wittyworm]

taino teachings are realigning my entire mindset. everything is. making more and more sense the more i read. Yoka hu (the father) and Ata Bey ( the mother) are both inside me . spiritually and physically. i have always said, for many years that i did not understand the concept of gender how this society is teaching it, because i am both my father and mother in body and spirit, but also wholly myself, and i need to respect myself, and how i've been feeling for so so long. it's all making so much sense.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Can you expand on what you mean by Baron being "too cool" to really fit a horror monster? It's a very interesting concept and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Is it that they're too active/involved/tangible and it detracts from their scariness?

I feel like I should preface this with a wall of disclaimers lmao 1/I am a hardcore, down-to-the-marrow, avid, deeply sincere horror enthusiast, esp. horror creatures. this usually means my mileage is vastly different from the average populace's, and my scaredy bone has been disintegrated by longterm exposure. most things in a piece of horror media won't scare me! so I practically never use that on its own as the scale to talk abt horror experiences, but when something does scare me it's always a special occasion to be treasured. 2/canon d20 is never really meant to be horror horror, and for good reasons: it doesn't fit the company's output, it takes a kind of carelessness in production estimation that is always a huge risk, it's often vulnerable in a way that kinda goes against how TTRPGs usually facilitates vulnerability, and for most people it's just! stressful! d20, even with the "horror-themed" seasons, generally just plays with horror tropes and stays focused in its goal of being a comedy improv tabletop theater show. 3/fantasy high's chosen system is DnD, which as I've mentioned before is before all a combat-based game system, which means the magic circle of play is drawn based on stats that facilitate and prioritize combat. want or not this affects every interaction you have in the game, and given fantasy high's concept from the ground up (everyone's going to school of DnD stuff to get better at DnD) it's doubly relevant. 4/This Is Fine I have no quarrel with this. my meters are internal, I do not ask this show to be anything it doesn't advertise itself to be, and what it is is fucking great! I like it! when I expand on this ask's question it will be like a physicist going insane in a lab. that's the mindset we're going in with.

disclaimers done. my stance on horror as a genre is that it's a utility genre rather than a content genre or a demographic genre; it is the discard of narratives. it's the trash pile. horror, above being scary, is about being ugly and messy, it's the cracks on the ground any story inevitably steps over to stay a genre that isn't horror. the genre's been around long enough to develop a codex and a general language that medias and makers and enthusiasts of the genre can use to talk about and build onto, but if you go into individual pieces there's really no unifying Horror Story. one person's beautiful life can be another's horror story, it's just how it is.

this makes The Monster a deeply intriguing piece of the genre. thing is a monster is in a decent percentage of any story - it's just when the antagonist force steps into something past a certain line traced out in the story's world. monstrousness is in pretty much every western fantasy story, it's in any story with a hero and something to vanquish or win; more than anything it's a proxy of that thing up there. the line in a narrative's world. the monster is the guard of the unknown lands, where heroic, civilized people don't tread.

what does this mean in the context of horror? the genre is about that perceived lawlessness, that "unknown land" so to say. we're in the monster's home. that's the literary context that we often walk into a horror piece with; the monster knows more than you about where you are. it may not understand you, but it holds more information than you, and with that it moves swifter than you, has more covered than you, and is more assured in its existence in this context than you. it's a struggle to catch up to it, it's nigh impossible to get one over it, and you're never sure it'll 100% work, because you just don't have the information necessary to.

with that framing you can kinda see where I'm coming from here: horror's often about the breaking of rules. I always think a monster's most effective when it breaks well-established rules of both existence and visual storytelling. think Possum (2018) or Undertale's Omega Flowey or the Xenomorph Queen - unique change in medium, unique change in graphic, unique change in design language, etc. in that sense I actually really like how canon baron plays out: they don't really function like anything else in the fantasy high universe, the bad kids have not managed to kill them when they've felled literal gods, their domain in fhjy literally introduces new mechanics to encompass their existence! from an experience design standpoint they slap mad shit. BUT! I can't help finding their character, like as a character riz (and the other bad kids, eventually) interact with, to be very... coherent? in design. this is kinda hard for me to articulate in words, it's more often a sense you get once you've looked at enough of these scrumptious fuckers, their general design and the way they show up is just kinda too clean, so to say. always kinda newly made? fresh unboxed. it, once again, makes sense for their lore - they are looking for more about themself from riz - and their function - they're an antagonist in a game experience, they're meant to be interacted with in a way that produces results and meshes with the existing magic circle - but that shininess takes away from the implied history they should have dominion over and the person they're haunting doesn't.

from another angle there is kinda something there about how put-together canon baron is as a concept; the domain they call home is riz's deep-seeded fears, extremely vulnerable things he's drawn borders around to quarantine and refused to walk into. things that from his perspective would irreversibly shatter certain pleasant fictions his world is built on top of. canon baron, While Extremely Cool, I feel is kinda too neat to connect with and signify the apocalyticized mess that'd result from this paradigm shift. the part where they're in riz's briefcase and looking through every mirror is Very Cool And Fucked Up! but ultimately the show draws a line around them as well, by making game-physical, tangible spaces they're in (the mirrors and the haunted mordred manor) and put riz and the bad kids there only when they need to confront stuff. riz is meaningfully narratively away from baron's unknown land for most of fantasy high.

with that and all of my disclaimers in mind my conclusion here is if canon baron wants to be a Horror Monster they'd have to cross way more lines. be a Lot more invasive. hence (holds up my class swap baron like a long cat)

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon, yandere, omegaverse, subjugation, some type of sexism, angsty, also a little fluffy?

fem reader

Discussions about superiority and inferiority between Alphas, Betas, and Omegas have become more popular lately. It’s always been many people’s opinion that the weak should cater to those stronger than them—but a debate with that as its topic is unsavory. Unfortunately, they’ve found new ways to phrase it. 

A resonating “Unmated Omegas are a danger to themselves!” garners much more sympathy…

And with the rise of people talking about it in the media, it was only natural to move the conversation into school as well.

You keep your head bowed in class as the chill runs down your spine. You feel the glare of thirty fellow students—the points of their teeth, too, and how they snicker under their breath. It’s always been rather scary being an omega, but you can’t say you’ve ever felt quite so alone.  

The teacher’s an alpha, so why should he care how what he says impacts you? He’s preaching to the choir, and you’ve never had the right to sing. The three other Omegas in your class have all chosen to stay home. They probably have the right idea—wait it out until it all blows over.

But you don’t know when that might be… You don’t know if that will be.

Society is on the precipice of critical change—new politics, new laws, new systems, new rights that separate you from them. You wallow in fear of the outcome, lying awake at night and scrolling through the news under the safety of your duvet. The statements seem endless. You wonder, why are all politicians Alphas?

You don’t want any of the things they’re suggesting—mating homes to help you find the perfect Alpha to bond with, systematic pairings done from birth, auctions. Is no one going to suggest they put shock collars on all Alphas and Betas to keep them in check? They’re the ones who need to—

“Your scent is distracting the whole class—don’t you feel ashamed?” 

It’s too easy for him to have you bent over the desk, your wrist on your back in his big fist as he wraps his tie around them. He and his goons stand around, all smiles—watching—enjoying it. It’s as if they’ve planned the whole thing, the way two of them peel away from the crowd to grab each their pick of your feet. Parting them, they use your own shoelaces to tie them to the desk legs.

The ringleader laughs. There’s an awful smell coming off him in waves—it makes you quiver. He flips your skirt up and whistles at the sight, showing everyone your ass and cotton undies. The bulge he presses against you is enough to make your tears spill despite how hard you’d fought to keep them at bay, knowing it only arouses them further.

“Aww, don’t cry, little bitch. You should be happy,” he coos, leaning over your trapped form to whisper right at your ear. “Don’t you know? You’ll never feel happier than you will bouncing on my big Alpha dick. It’s all your little Omega cunt dreams about, isn’t it?” He snickers, fiddling with his belt buckle—you flinch at every sharp clink as he jostles the metal. “Well, salvation is here—”

“Keep it to yourself.” Another voice breaks through the sounds of hollers and cheers.

Your eyes open to see him. You despise how your heart jumps in relief.

“Oi, you—” the guy at your back challenges, stepping away from you and toward the interruption.

“Yeah, me,” he states blankly, jaded. He eyes the rest of the guys with disinterest—five betas, zero threat—before telling them, “All of you. Scram.”

They all take a step to walk out as if his voice alone had compelled them, but then the previous guy interjects, making them stop in their tracks again. “Tch—you know what they’re saying. All unmated Omegas are free game, and I won this one. So back off.”

It was like watching a match of tug-of-war.

“Heh,” the intruder laughs. “That rule only counts for Alphas.”

You spot your aggressor's fists curl—there’s a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “I am an Alpha, asshole.”

“Really?” he feigns, sizing him up with a cocky tilt of his head. “Couldn’t tell.” He doesn’t seem fazed in light of the aggression—actually, it seems to amuse him if anything. “To me, you smell no different from all these other Beta losers.” 

He takes a casual step forward, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face—baring canines with grace.

“But if you wanna prove it, I’m ready when you are.”

It’s quiet after the declaration. The betas are unsure who’s side to pick, none of them eager to get caught in the middle. It becomes a competition purely between the two Alphas.

Without backup, your aggressor backs down and leaves.

“Thought so,” your savior jeers, showing the crowd out, closing and locking the door behind them.

It’s quiet after they’ve left.

You hide your face. Listening to his footsteps approach—he sighs when taking the place of the former guy. He doesn’t touch you, though.

“Y’know…” he starts. “That guy might be trash, but he isn’t wrong…” He picks up your skirt and drapes it back in place. “None of this would ever happen if you weren’t unmated.”

You speak through grit teeth. “Untie me.”

He chuckles familiarly at that, clicking his tongue at you. “What? Aren’t you gonna say please?” But he does what you say anyway. Squatting down, he starts with your ankles.

The scent of your fear still lingers in the air despite your tough act. You’ve always been so steadfast, ever since you were kids, even when it does you no good. He frees your feet—one, then the other, slowly—he even reties your laces into pretty bows before he’s done. 

He remembers it being so obvious. The sun rose in the morning and the moon at night, and you were supposed to be an Alpha while he a Beta at best. You promised you’d be by his side to keep him safe forever, and he wanted nothing more.

But then puberty hit, and nothing was as you’d imagined.

He stands and unknots the tie keeping your wrists restrained.

You immediately push him off—already storming away.

“Do I get no thank you, no nothing? Always so stubborn—” He grabs your arm.

You spin around, an unnatural snarl on your face. “Let go!”

You’d have been a terrifying Alpha. But as fate has it, you’re not. And you shouldn’t act like it. It only lands you in trouble.

But he doesn’t say that. 

“You been watchin’ the news?” he says instead, ignoring your cry and keeping a firm grip on your arm. “Seems like auctions are winning the voters. You know what that means?”

He feels you flinch, followed by a quiver. He can tell. No matter how good you are at hiding it. He can see—the way you’re fraying at the edges, barely holding it together. Always acting so strong. He can’t tell whether you enjoy torturing yourself or if you’re just that good at convincing yourself you’re fine.

“Pretty soon, new authorities are gonna come storming in here, roundin’ up every sorry unmated Omega they find, and put ‘em all on a farm where pompous Alphas can have their pick of the litter.”

He can never tell what you’re thinking, but he knows he doesn’t need to tell you any of this. You’re not stupid, you never have been. He knows you already know. But…

“You should decide now while it’s still your choice.” 

You must be terrified. He understands. But truly… it’s obvious what you have to do, isn’t it?

“It’s not like you have many options.”

It’s obvious. It always has been.

You don’t meet his eyes. You haven’t for a long while. Actually, you haven't since both of you got your test results. He understands this wasn’t what you had in mind, but you can’t afford to mope about it forever—

“How am I supposed to choose any Alpha when you’re all such assholes…”

Your mutter stunts him. It wasn’t what he expected. Or, the words were more or less exactly something he’d expect from you, but that voice—quiet and soft, dangling on the brink of sweet. If you’d said anything else, he’d have taken it as a confession.

“Can't argue with that,” he ends up chuckling again.

You hate how easy this is for him. He would cry at every turn when you were kids. It’s unfair. 

“But you can’t keep doing this, either,” he states. His voice is soft, paired with that ugly authority they all have when talking to you—talking down to you. “Just look where it gets you—scared and exhausted because of it. At least have the brains to stay home.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but you both know it isn’t. His chuckles are light—far from fullhearted.

He bends down, trying to find your eyes. He still holds onto your arm, knowing you’d sooner stomp away than listen to him. His other hand brushes your cheek gently, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You hear the call from the rafters—it’s not about what you want anymore. It’s about what you need.”

That’s what they say, isn’t it? What you need. You want to slap him. Scratch him with claws, bite his throat out—make him choke on his own words. Need? What you need is for them all to fuck off.

You mean to say it with the same sentiment, but something hard and rough in your throat makes all your words come out wobbly. “Mate an Alpha to stay safe from other Alphas. What a joke.”

You bow your head further. The tears return. They burn as they trail down the sore streaks from before.

He’s never seen you like this. He won’t lie, it makes his pants tight—feeling the urge to suck your cheeks, hold you close and comfort you. But knowing you right, you’d probably never let him. Your face would probably scrunch up in disgust, punch his gut, knee his groin, then turn on your heel and leave him on the floor wheezing.

You really would have made the most terrifying Alpha. 

“The world isn’t fair,” he agrees. “But you get nowhere cryin’ about it—do it my way, and you’ll never—”

“Have any freedom,” you cut him off with a sniffle. 

It’s about the most adorable thing he’s seen in his life.

He gets why you don’t like Alphas—they’re all gross. He makes himself sick sometimes. He can’t believe he’s getting off on watching you have a mental breakdown. There’s something seriously wrong with his side of the species. His throat’s tight, mouth watery with the urge to reap your vulnerability. 

Suppressing it only makes his inner beast furious. Some of that aggression comes out in his next words.

“I’m sorry, but the world doesn’t give a shit about your freedom.” 

The grip around your arm tightens, and you look up in shock—watching his narrowed eyes through your watery ones. 

“What you need is safety—now more than ever. Or do you like being preyed on by every Alpha around the corner?” 

Your bottom lip trembles at the reality of it—a little while ago, you were almost— 

“One of these days, I'm not gonna be here in time, and you’ll be a slave to some fucking—” 

He huffs and hangs his head. His hand loosens up—it trembles where he holds you in place.

“In all honesty, I think I’m more scared than you,” he whispers under his breath. “I think I might kill—”

He stops himself again. You don’t know if it’s in an effort not to frighten you or himself.

“Speak about needs…” he begins anew, now softer. “I need to know you’re safe. I need to—” He looks up. His eyes are back to being round. “I need you more than you need me, probably.”

There’s a desperation on his face. It almost looks like he’s on the verge of tears himself.

“So… please?” he begs. “Will you keep me safe like you promised and stay by my side?”

Your tears dry and prickle. Looking into his eyes now, you see the same boy you knew back in your childhood—that one who’d chase you all over even when you’d call him a sniveling crybaby. You realize, Alpha or not, he hadn’t changed all that much at all. 

“It’s not like you need my permission,” you end up saying.

You’ve always been so hard-headed. He has to smile. “No, but I want it.”

You nibble your lip. You can’t believe you’re at the mercy of this big dumb hunk of… you don’t have the words to describe him. He wasn’t exactly a crybaby anymore. 

“Okay. You win.” 

His eyes widen as you bear your neck with a stretch. Head high and shoulders slack. 

You swallow thickly. “Get it over with.”

He shudders at the sight. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but now it almost seemed too soon. 

“We should be supervised by a professional—you know how wrong things can go—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.” Your eyes remain shut, and your lips pursed.

His tongue grows thick in his mouth at your bark. A sudden stroke of performance anxiety makes his palms sweaty, hands heavy and shaking. But then the sight of your soft neck has his mood shift, becoming drowsy.

He has no control over the growl that begins rumbling from his gut.

But he doesn’t apologize for it either.

He bends forward—breaths on your chest before he licks your throat. You can’t help but whimper at the warmth. He watches you through hooded eyes—your usually angry face is now all cute, riddled with anxiety you try hiding paired with the grim anticipation of pain.

“Shh,” he soothes, kissing the spot softly. He sways you against him, then lifts you up on the desk for you to sit. Grazing your neck with teeth when feeling your hands tangle two fistfuls of his shirt. He expects you to push him away, but you don’t—you tug him closer instead as if silently telling him to hurry up.

But he doesn’t want to rush, doesn’t want to lose himself—that’s how accidents happen. So he sticks to sucking gently, only tiny nibbles that leave your skin hot and lightly bruised in their wake.

You give a moan once he finds the spot, and he growls in restraint upon the pretty sound—feeling you relax despite being threatened with his teeth right at your artery. He almost humps your leg in return, feeling the boil of blood pump him hot and heavy in his pants—breaths turning equally hot and heavy, each one laced with rust.

Drool coated your neck in a cool sheen, soothing the marks made beneath it, while his lips and fangs aroused pleasure in the spot that now ached for the sting of his bite.

“Please,” slipped from your mouth while tugging him closer. 

His eyes, completely drunk on the pretty prayer, had only a slim rim of color left surrounding the hungering bottomless pits, blown full and black with opium.

No one could come and take you away from him now. Not with his print so pretty on your neck. You were his—just as you were always supposed to be.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Natsuo, Amajiki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji, Yuuta ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ DS – Tanjiro, Zenitsu

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[sargeant-bxrnes]

you’re how i pray.

summary: reluctantly, you found yourself reaching out to the church for guidance, to better your “wrongs.” only to meet father charlie and realize there was a whole world of sins you’ve yet to indulge in. [REQUESTED.]

pairings: charlie mayhew x fem!reader

warnings: conversations about religion and moral, blasphemy (?), charlie is a manipulative freak!. SMUT: this is DIRTYYYY, fingering (fem), oral (fem), unprotected sex, manhandling, dirty talk.

WC: 3.6K (sorry, i got into it)

my masterlist!                     requests are OPEN!

Your steps echoed against the cold stone floors of the church. The towering figure of your aunt walked ahead, moving with self-righteous purpose. You rolled your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek to stifle the irritation that boiled beneath your skin.

Of course, therapy had been a good start. You had actually been making progress, learning to manage your anger, to quiet the voice inside you that urged you to rebel against every rule, every boundary. But your family… they believed therapy wasn’t enough. They had another solution.

Father Charlie. You had heard of him. A young priest, charismatic and well-liked by the community.

Your aunt wasted no time, walking straight up to the office where Father Charlie stood. His presence was larger than life, draped in his priestly robes, and yet his eyes—those piercing brown eyes—held a spark that didn’t quite match the image of a humble servant of God.

“Father Charlie, thank you for meeting with us,” your aunt began, already launching into a tirade about you. Words like rebellious, problematic, and sinful spilled out as though they had been rehearsed. You stood there, arms crossed, glaring at the rows of candles flickering on the altar.

Father Charlie nodded sympathetically but his gaze never left you. He didn’t interrupt your aunt’s sermon, though, and once the woman was satisfied that she had delivered enough holy condemnation, she patted you on the shoulder.

“Father Charlie will talk to you, sweetie. He’ll help you.”

With that, your aunt left, leaving behind a cloud of forced piety. The silence settled in as Father Charlie waited until the doors shut behind her.

“Guessing by your expression, I’m sure this wasn’t your first option, coming to me.” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

You shrugged, leaning back against one of the wooden furnitures of his office. “Yeah. My family has unfortunately convinced themselves that I’m a lost cause, and that only God can save me. Or so.”

Father Charlie smiled, and something about it made you feel more cautious than comforted. “Why do you think people see you that way?”

The question took you by surprise. Not the usual condescending lecture, not yet, anyway. “Because I don’t see the point in all these rules they’re obsessed with. I do whatever I want, and that annoys people. We’re born into this world, and instead of living the lives we want, we’re told what to do from the moment we can speak. Doesn’t that sound a little… cruel to you?”

“Rules are there to keep the community together. Without them, society would fall apart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Maybe. But what’s the point if those rules only help some people? The rich keep getting richer, while the rest of us… we’re always at the bottom. And that’s okay as long as we obey, right?”

“So, you think life is about doing whatever you want? No restrictions at all?”

“Not exactly,” you said. “I just think people should be free to make their own choices. To live without constant guilt and fear hanging over them. This whole idea that we’re supposed to follow blindly or be damned… it doesn’t sit right with me.”

The priest studied you for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze. “Do you believe in God?”

Your lips pressed together in a thin line. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s something out there, something bigger than us. But the people in this community? The hypocrisy. The way they use their faith to control others. It’s toxic.”

Father Charlie nodded slowly. “You’re not the first to feel that way. But you’re not as alone as you think, either.”

“What do you mean?”

His smile was back, but this time, it held something else. Something darker. “Let’s just say… not everyone in this church follows the rules as strictly as you might think.”

A shiver crept down your spine, but you couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else. His words, his tone—they didn’t match the image of the holy man you had been expecting. You sat down on the couch, to keep some distance.

“Let’s talk more,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m curious about your thoughts on freedom. On life… on sin.”

Your pulse quickened as he took a seat next to you, far too close for comfort, but you didn’t move. There was something magnetic about him. Dangerous, but magnetic.

“You know,” Charlie began, his fingers lightly tracing the soft edge of the couch beneath both, “a lot of people in your position feel trapped by expectations. You said it yourself: you don’t like the way rules seem to be designed to keep some people down.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where this was leading, but already feeling a shift in the atmosphere.

He tilted his head, his gaze holding yours, and there was a glimmer of amusement—something almost wicked—in his eyes. “You’re not wrong to want freedom. To want more. But what you have to understand is that most people… they’re too afraid to admit it.”

“Too afraid?”

“Yes. They bury their desires under obedience, hoping it will make them feel whole. But deep down, they crave… more. They want to push against those boundaries.” He leaned in closer, his tone growing silkier. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you said, though you did know. It just didn’t feel safe to admit it—not to yourself, and definitely not to him. “I mean, I get frustrated, but… it’s not like I’m going to rebel against everything.”

“What if you did? What if, just for a moment, you allowed yourself to explore that side of you? The one that questions. The one that craves freedom… and maybe, other things?” Charlie’s eyes sparkled with something that felt far more dangerous than faith.

Other things. The way he said it, as if it were an invitation, hung heavily between both. You could feel the tension building, the heat.

“I think…” you started, your voice shaky, “I think people would lose their minds if I did something like that.”

His lips curled into a slow, knowing grin. “Maybe that’s exactly what they need.”

He let the words sink in before continuing, his voice dipping into something darker, more seductive. “You don’t need to live your life based on what others expect of you. There’s power in choosing for yourself.“

This conversation wasn’t going the way you’d imagined. You had expected judgment, correction—but instead, he was… encouraging you.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

You looked away, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” Charlie said softly, his voice dipping even lower. “I think you know exactly what you want. You just haven’t allowed yourself to feel it fully.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, and you couldn’t ignore the way his words wrapped around you like a dark temptation. There was a part of you that did want something—something wild, something free, something dangerous. But this? Here? With him?

“It’s okay to admit it,” Charlie said, leaning closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear now. “Sometimes… surrendering to what you really desire is more powerful than fighting it.”

Your breath caught, and for a second, you leaned into him, drawn by the magnetism of his words. It was intoxicating—the way he seemed to know exactly what to say. But you pulled back, confusion warring with the strange attraction that was blooming inside you.

“You’re a priest,” you said, as though reminding him—and yourself—would somehow break the spell.

Charlie chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand temptation. Sin is… fascinating, isn’t it? Especially the kind that makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.”

There was something so wrong about this conversation, and yet, you couldn’t deny the pull. The way he was making you feel—seen, understood, even desired—was something you hadn’t expected to find in this place.

He held your gaze, his confidence palpable. “You crave connection. An escape from the chains of expectation. You want to live life on your terms, even if that means stepping outside the lines drawn by those who think they know better. I admire that.”

“You really don’t know what you’re getting into,” you said, trying to regain some control.

“Perhaps,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “But what if I’m willing to take that risk? To explore those uncharted waters with you?”

“Is that what you do with all the girls who come in here, Father?” you shot back, trying to mask the way your pulse quickened at the thought.

“Most don’t provoke me the way you do,” he said, his voice low and velvety. “They’re afraid to stray too far from the righteous path. But you… you have a light about you that beckons me closer. It’s intoxicating.”

Your cheeks warmed under his intense scrutiny, but you quickly shook your head, refusing to be swayed. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You’re a priest.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, isn’t it?” he replied smoothly, his gaze unflinching. “What does that really mean? I wear the collar, sure, but I’m also a man—one who understands the darker desires that lie beneath the surface. You’re drawn to them, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I’m just curious,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.

“Curiosity is a dangerous game,” he said, his voice a seductive whisper. “Especially when it leads you to someone like me. You could explore all the answers to your questions, and perhaps even find the absolution you didn’t know you were seeking—if you dare to take that step.”

“And what’s the price for that?” you challenged, not ready to give in but undeniably intrigued.

“Just your trust,” he said, his gaze piercing through your defenses. “Let me guide you. Allow me to show you that the rules can bend, that the lines can blur. And in return, you’ll discover a side of yourself you never knew existed. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper, “but I’m not so easily led.”

He leaned in closer, their faces mere inches apart. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He ran his thumb delicately along your lower lip. “Lose yourself in me. Let me be your forbidden pleasure, your dark indulgence. Together, we can create a sin so divine, it will set your soul free.”

You feel his thumb diving inside your mouth. He pressed his thumb deeper, exploring the warm, wet cavern of your mouth as if mapping your innermost terrain.

“Mmmm, so eager to please," he purred, his other hand sliding down your side to grip your hip, holding you steady. "Your mouth was made for sin." With a subtle twist, he coaxed your tongue to swirl around the intrusion, a sinful game of give-and-take that left you breathless and wanting more. "Such a willing little temptress,"

And before you can process, he’s kissing you. And things gets heated, fast. It doesn’t seem to matter that you both were sitting on the couch from his office, inside the church. He claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging in to dance with yours in a primal, urgent rhythm. The scent of your arousal mingled with the musky undertones of his cologne, fogging the air with a heady, addictive haze. His hands roamed your body, possessive and demanding, as he pulled you closer, his own arousal throbbing against the confines of his trousers.

“So sweet," he growled against your lips, breaking the kiss only to nip and suck his way down your neck, leaving a trail of heated, open-mouthed kisses. "Such a delicious little sin."

His fingers deftly unfastened the buttons of your blouse, revealing the lacy bra beneath and the creamy swells of your breasts. You gasped, feeling his lips on your skin. Desperate and wanton, hungry.

He kissed and licked a path downward, pausing to toy with the lacy edge of your bra before tugging the delicate fabric aside with his teeth. His hot mouth closed over the swell of your breast, his tongue swirling to coax forth a responsive moan. His lips slid lower, fixating on your nipple. He suckled, the rhythmic pull of his lips and the scrape of his teeth sending jolts of pleasure-pain shooting through your sensitive flesh.

“Mmmm, you taste so divine," he purred, his free hand sliding up your thigh to brush against the damp fabric of your panties. "Every inch of you is made for sin."

You could foresee his intentions even before he started to move. His lips went lower down your chest, over your stomach, to the waistband of your skirt. With practiced ease, he slid his hands down your curves, peeling away the last of your garments with a hunger that bordered on reverence.

Your skirt and panties joined the discarded heap of your blouse and bra on the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath his intense scrutiny. His eyes raked over you, drinking in every inch of exposed flesh as if committing it to memory. The sight of you, spread out before him, was a feast for his sinful appetites.

“Exquisite," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "You're a vision of decadence. I'm going to indulge in every moment of our encounter, savoring every morsel of pleasure you offer me."

With that, he sank to his knees before you, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs as he gazed up at you with a wicked promise in his eyes. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper against your most intimate flesh.

And he went at it, eager to devour. He started off with a long, languid lick with the flat of his tongue, licking from the edge of your slit all the way to the clit. It was utterly sinful, erotic.

He lapped at you, his long, dexterous tongue swirling and delving with a sinful expertise that made you gasp and squirm. The flat of his tongue glided along your slit, gathering your sweet essence before he darted the tip to tease the sensitive bump of your clit. He licked and suckled, alternating between long, languid strokes and fast, frantic jabs of his tongue, each one designed to drive you a little crazier with need.

“You taste so good,," he purred, his words muffled against your pulsing flesh. "I could eat this sweet cunt all day and never tire of it."

Two fingers slipped inside you, stretching and filling you as his tongue continued its relentless assault. He pumped them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue's movements as he brought you closer to the edge. His fingers curled, seeking that special spot that would send you plummeting into ecstasy. With each pass, his touch grew firmer, more insistent, as if trying to coax the very essence of your being from your depths. His lips and tongue never ceased their worship of your clit, suckling and flicking against the throbbing nub in a maddening dance of pleasure and desperation.

He could feel you teetering on the brink, your sweet cum flooding his fingers as your hips bucked and writhed in mindless need. His tongue worked frantically against your clit, a dizzying whirl of licks and suckles that left you breathless and begging for more. One last, long lick, and you were sent hurtling over the edge, your orgasm ripping through like a thunderclap.

“Yes," he hummed, his voice a reverent whisper. "Let it happen. Let me feel you cum for me." And as the waves of your climax crashed over you, he remained, drinking in every last drop of your release like a man dying of thirst.

And you thought that would be it, but no. He rearranged you, laying you down as he stripped off his cassock in a hurried tug. The garment joined the pile of your clothes, and he wasted no time unfastening his belt and shucking off his trousers. His massive cock sprang free, the thick, pulsing length already flushed and throbbing with need.

He loomed over you, his thick, throbbing cock jutting out before him like a red-hot brand, burning with the need for release. With a knee, he pushed your legs apart, spreading you in blatant invitation, before positioning himself between your thighs. One hand tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his burning gaze as he lined himself up with your most intimate entrance.

“Last chance to turn back," he growled, the tip of his cock notched against your aching flesh. "Once I sink into you, there's no going back. You'll be mine, body and soul." He paused, his expression almost wistful. "But I know you won't refuse me. You want this, as much as I do."

With that, he surged forward, burying himself in your warmth with a groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

He filled you slowly, deliberately, each inch a decadent slide into heaven as he stretched you impossibly wide around his girth. The sensation was overwhelming, the burn of his intrusion mixing with the sweet, tingling pleasure that only he could evoke. When he finally bottomed out, he paused, savoring the feeling of being completely sheathed within you. He was huge, and you could feel every throbbing inch of him as he pulsed and twitched inside you.

“So perfect," he breathed, his voice low and husky with satisfaction. He took a deep breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he fought to regain his composure. "You were made for me. Every curve, every hollow, every inch of your sweet cunt is tailor-made to take my cock."

He began to move, slow and deep at first, withdrawing until only the thick head remained before plunging back in, his strokes growing firmer, more insistent as he lost himself in the mindless pleasure of the joining. — He took you like a man possessed, his pace growing faster, more erratic as he chased his release. The couch creaked in protest beneath both, the sound mingling with the ragged breathing and the obscene squelch of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy. Your back arched, pushing your pert breasts toward his devouring mouth as he feasted on one while still pounding into you. He growled against your skin, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the maelstrom of pleasure wracking your body.

Your eyes rolled back, feeling him pounding deep into your cunt as he suckled your tit. Wary, you used a hand to cover your mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

His mouth left your breast with a wet pop, and he sealed his lips over yours in a fierce, dominating kiss. His tongue invaded, claiming yours in a sensual dance that left both breathless. All the while, he continued his relentless pace, his cock pistoning in and out of you with brutal efficiency. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your sweet cream coating his shaft as you teetered on the brink of another orgasm. With a groan, he broke the kiss, his eyes blazing with a primal intensity as he prepared to unleash his own release.

“Cum for me," he commanded, his voice a raw, desperate snarl. "Take my cock, just like that. Fuck- come for me. Come on my cock.”

The mix of the sensations and the sheer desperation on his voice, how needy it suddenly sounded did it for you. As your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clamped down around him like a vice, cum gushing out to coat his cock and balls. The sensation was enough to tip him over the edge, and with a hoarse bellow, he buried himself to the hilt and came, his thick seed pulsing deep inside you as his body shuddered and spasmed.

“Fuck!" he gasped, his hands gripping your hips like an anchor as he rode out the waves of his climax. "Yes... oh, god... yes..." He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch as he struggled to catch his breath.

As you recovered, you started to process. Thinking to yourself. Did you- did you just fuck a priest? Maybe you ARE as troublesome as people claim.

He slowly pulled out of you, his softening cock slipping free with a wet plop. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his eyes never leaving yours. "Don't overthink it, my sweet," he murmured against your mouth. "Just enjoy the afterglow."

He leaned on his elbow, his free hand gently brushing the hair from your face as he took in your flushed, sated features.

"We've both crossed lines. Lines we can't simply erase. But perhaps that's for the best. Perhaps this is the key to setting you free." A sly smile played on his lips as he stood, his naked form glistening with sweat in the dim light. "Now, how about we continue this little sin of ours in the bed, hmm?"

And as that idea enticed you… you realized that perhaps you ARE a lost cause.

[plutonianeris]

Asteroid Lilith (1181)

Asteroid Lilith in the houses of your natal chart brings up themes of independence, rebellion, and primal feminine energy.

With Lilith in your 1st House, you are the storm that cannot be contained. You stride into spaces, and the air crackles with your presence. Eyes are drawn to you, not just in awe but in reverence, because you carry a power that is both undeniable and untamed. You break the mold of what the world expects, shattering conventions with every step. You are not here to conform; you are here to redefine. Your very existence is a rebellion, a statement that you will never be controlled or confined.

In the 2nd House, Lilith is the fire that burns through the chains of dependency. You demand freedom in the realm of resources and self-worth, craving independence like oxygen. Your relationship with money and possessions is a reflection of your inner rebellion—there is no value to you in material things unless they symbolize your autonomy. You rewrite the rules of what it means to be secure, standing tall in the knowledge that your worth is beyond measure, unbound by society's definition of success.

Lilith in the 3rd House gives your voice a sharp edge, like a blade cutting through the noise. You speak truths others shy away from, your words charged with the kind of power that demands attention. There is no space for the ordinary in your mind; you are a disruptor of thought, challenging outdated beliefs and lighting fires in the hearts of those willing to listen. You are the voice of the unspoken, the whisper of revolution carried on the wind.

With Lilith rooted in the 4th House, home is not a place you inherit—it’s something you create on your own terms. You are the breaker of family patterns, the one who refuses to be held by the weight of tradition. Your emotional independence is fierce, like an ancient forest that grows wild and free, untethered by expectations. You carve out a sanctuary that reflects your soul’s desire for freedom, where no one can dictate what “family” or “home” should mean to you.

In the 5th House, Lilith dances with fire. Your creativity is electric, unchained, and your approach to love is nothing short of revolutionary. You live for passion that breaks the rules, for art that shocks the senses. There’s an intoxicating wildness in how you love and create—you do not follow paths, you blaze new ones. Every romance, every creative act, is an expression of your refusal to be anything less than fully, fiercely alive.

Lilith in the 6th House rebels against the grind, the monotony, the soul-crushing routines of the conventional world. You cannot be tamed by authority or confined by clocked hours; your spirit demands freedom in your work. Your approach to health mirrors this autonomy—there’s a deep wisdom in how you care for yourself, often turning to holistic or alternative paths that honor your need for balance outside the norm. You are not here to merely survive—you are here to thrive, on your own terms.

In the 7th House, Lilith brings the storm to your relationships. You are not interested in partnerships that bind or restrict—you crave equality, freedom, and intensity in every connection. Power struggles may arise, but they only serve to remind you of the sacred fire within that refuses to be dimmed. You seek relationships that elevate and liberate, where love is not a chain but a dance of two souls who choose to be free together.

Lilith in the 8th House is the embodiment of your deepest, most primal desires. You are drawn to the taboo, the hidden, the places others fear to explore. Power, sexuality, and transformation are your realms, and you navigate them with a fearless heart. In the depths of intimacy, you find your strength, exploring the darker edges of life with a sense of purpose. This placement asks you to embrace the shadows, to find the magic that lies within the mystery of your soul.

Lilith in the 9th House is the wild sage, the wanderer who refuses to be tied to any dogma or rigid belief. You are a seeker of truth, but not the kind written in stone. You crave freedom in your exploration of life’s philosophies, pushing beyond the boundaries of conventional wisdom. Spirituality, travel, and education are sacred to you—but only when they allow you to soar, unchained and untamed, toward the horizons that call your name.

In the 10th House, Lilith challenges you to tear down the walls of the conventional career. You will not be bound by society’s narrow definitions of success. There’s a wild ambition here, one that seeks not to fit in but to break free. You are a force of disruption in the public sphere, unafraid to challenge authority and redefine what it means to stand in your power. You don’t just play the game—you change the rules entirely.

With Lilith in the 11th House, you are the rebel within the collective. Social norms and group expectations feel like shackles to you, and you refuse to be anything less than your authentic self. You are drawn to causes and communities that reflect your own wild, progressive ideals, but even here, you challenge groupthink. You push others to think differently, to embrace their uniqueness, and to stand tall in their individuality, just as you do.

In the 12th House, Lilith pulls you into the depths of your own psyche. You are no stranger to the shadows, to the hidden parts of yourself that others may fear. Here, you find power in the unconscious, in the dreams and mysteries that swirl beneath the surface of life. This is where you confront your deepest fears, your buried desires, and your untapped potential. Lilith guides you to embrace the darkness within, to find liberation in the unseen forces that shape your reality.

[jays-bonnie-on-the-side]

HOMEWORK

PAIRING : teenage!dean winchester x teenage!fem!reader (au)

SUMMARY : reader goes over to dean's house to do homework but that's not all they do...

WARNINGS : young love. fluff. smut. sub-to-dom!dean. dom-to-sub!reader. horniness. under-aged sex. rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie. getting caught kink. implied aftercare.

A/N : this oneshot was inspired by the gif above ^ (which is from jensen's movie devour [and if you think the gif is hot, you should hear the audio 😏🤤]) anyways—this is an au oneshot so don't trip that john and mary are alive & polite. also, please be patient with me, this is my first time writing in second person—and it being a smut, no less. hopefully over time i'll get better. hope you guys enjoy. lemme know what you think!

PREQUEL

You knock on the white door and patiently wait for someone to answer. John opens the door, greeting you with the famous Winchester smile.

"Hey, Y/N." He welcomes. "Dean told me you were coming over. Come on in."

"Thanks."

He steps back and opens the door wider, letting you into the two-story house. He closes the door before leading you further into the lovely home. Mary exits the kitchen, a bright smile lighting up her face once she sees you. She rushes over and wraps you in a warm hug. You happily melt into her motherly embrace. You loved Mary. She had always been kind to you.

"How are you?" She asks, her words muffled against your hair.

"I'm good. And you?"

John walks to the staircase and shouts, "Dean, Y/N's here!" before going to sit in his recliner.

"I'm great," Mary answers. "You kids have plans tonight?"

Nodding, you reply, "Yeah, we've got some homework to do."

Dean rushes down the stairs, catching the attention of you and his mother. You smile at your deliciously handsome boyfriend as he walks toward you. His eyes were fixed on yours as if you were the only one in the room. And it's been that way since the day he met you.

"Hey, beautiful," says Dean.

You giggle at the given pet name, a smile plastered on your blushed cheeks. His lips press against your forehead as his hand runs up your arm, creating goosebumps. Dean pulls away once his hand reaches for the strap on your bookbag. He takes it from your shoulder and throws it over his own. It was a gesture he frequently did, solely for you.

Before you started dating, Dean had his fair share of women. Whether he flirted with them or they threw themselves at him, he always had a girl on his shoulder. Everyone knew Dean Winchester's only rule: No Strings Attached. So, when his attention shifted toward you, you brushed him off. As much as you wanted to experience what the other girls bragged about, you refused to be like them. You had enough respect for yourself to say no despite every cell in your body begging for his. The last thing you expected from him was a chase.

You figured he only wanted sex, so 'No' was something he had to get used to. But he didn't stop, he didn't give up, and he certainly didn't chase anyone else. You couldn't understand his interest in you. You weren't popular or the prettiest girl in school, yet you were all he could think about. So, when you finally agreed to a date, you didn't imagine ending up on the hood of his '67 Chevy Impala, in the middle of a field, staring up at the stars as your head laid on his shoulder, talking the night away.

You feared that when he went to make a move, he would be upset or wouldn't understand. But when that moment came to admit that you were a virgin and weren't ready, he didn't once judge or try to rush you. Instead, he smiled and held you closer. And just like that, Dean had your heart.

Eight months after becoming official, which had been a first for Dean, you decide to take your relationship to the next level. He had become your best friend. You trusted him with your life. And you knew from previous conversations that he felt the same way. After your consummation, the bond between you both became stronger. Neither of you were the same people you were when you got together.

Dean grabs your hand and begins pulling you up the stairs. "We'll be in my room."

"Okay. Dinner will be ready in an hour!" Mary shouts after us.

Dean shuts the door as soon as you walk into his bedroom. Your backpack slumps off his shoulder before he attacks your lips. Happily accepting his eager kiss, you moan into his mouth. His swift hands pull off your sweater, letting it fall to the floor. He pushes you onto the bed, causing it to squeak loudly before climbing over your body.

"Not on the bed while your parents are home, remember?" You breathlessly murmur as his lips travel to your neck, licking and sucking on your sensitive skin. "And we really do have homework."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I can't help that your beauty distracts me." He purrs into your ear, sending goosebumps along your skin.

"Stop trying to butter me up, Winchester." You push his chest away, urging him to get off of you. With a chuckle, he rises, grabbing your hands to help you off the mattress. "We have work to do."

Letting go of your hands, Dean walks over to the desk across from his bed and plops himself in his swivel chair. You walk over to your backpack and fetch your supplies before sitting in the chair beside him. You place the textbook between the two of you, flipping to page 124. Opening a fresh page in your notebook, you both began to work in silence.

Half an hour had gone by, and your page showed minimal progress. Sure, you solved a few problems, but your mind wandered elsewhere. The only chemistry you were thinking of was that of your boyfriend. Your paper blurs as you imagine his lips back on yours. You shut your eyes as you focus on the vivid feeling of his cock pounding in and out of you like all the times he had before. Your breath became shallow as your walls clenched around nothing. Although you gave him crap about it earlier, you found yourself unable to resist the temptation.

You open your eyes and glance toward Dean. His brows pinched together, gaze fixed on the problem before him. His face contorted with concentration, absorbed by the equation. The steely determination set in his jaw matched the resolute expression in his eyes. You bit your bottom lip, finding him even hotter. After setting your pencil down, you rise from the chair and turn towards your partner.

Dean looked up from his homework, giving you his attention. Without a word, you leaned down and began to unbutton his jeans. He watched as you slowly unzipped his pants, not bothering to stop or ask what you were up to. He knew exactly what you were doing. You reach into his boxers and pull out his hardening member, mouth watering at the sight of it.

His hand replaces yours, pumping his growing length as he watches you reach underneath your skirt to peel off your soaked panties. Once they fall to the wood floor, you move to straddle his hips. With your hands on his shoulders to steady your balance, you hover over his fully erect cock. Your dominant hand runs down his clothed chest before grabbing hold of his thick member and aligning it with your awaiting entrance. Dean's hands push your skirt higher and rest them against your bare hips. With his help, you ease onto his throbbing cock, moans escaping both of your mouths at the sheer contact.

He stretches your insides, forcing you to feel every inch he was blessed with. Your walls were so tight; He had to concentrate to avoid finishing too early. Your breath mingled with his, trying to find the strength to remain quiet. Once you adjusted around him, you slowly slide off, stopping when the tip dares to slip out. You and Dean make eye contact, staring into each other's souls as you lower again. Your wetness coats his length, making it easier to glide up and down. In no time, you were feverishly bouncing on his rock-hard shaft.

Quiet moans spill from your lips as he brushes your G-spot. Dean wraps his arms around your torso, helping keep your rhythm. Your hands gently pull his neck forward, connecting your lips. The bouncing made it difficult but not impossible as his tongue danced with yours. The overwhelming passion engulfed you, causing a delightful feeling of dizziness. After breaking for air, you rested your foreheads together.

You pick up the pace, and as a reward, Dean thrusts upward. Your hips crash together, slamming his dick against your G-spot even harder. A loud moan slips from your lips, unable to keep quiet from that mesmerizing thrust. He hushes you, and you nod quickly, not wanting to draw his family's attention. The added suspense of getting caught and his fingers rubbing harshly against your clit drove you to your first orgasm. You ride faster as he thrusts harder, working you through your climax. It was nearly impossible to hide your screams of ecstasy, but his shirt did a good enough job softening them.

Heavy pants fall from your lips once your orgasm passes. You lift your head from his shoulder and watch his countenance contour with pleasure. Dean buries his face in your chest, muffling his moans as his arms hug you tighter. Your thighs ache with soreness, hindering your endurance. His hand moves up your back, holding you closer as you feel his thrusts begin to falter. Knowing your boyfriend was close, you pushed through the pain and ran your fingers through his hair before gripping it tightly, just how he liked. You clench around his cock, knowing all the ways to make him spill his load. His hands quickly gripped your hips, locking yours with his before spewing hot ropes of cum deep inside you.

You both moan as his seed coats your soft walls. In times like these, you're thankful for the shot. Although—despite your age—you wouldn't mind having Dean's baby. Hell, you imagined your future with him since the first time you made love. A few kids running around the yard as your high school sweetheart chased after them was one that often came to mind. One you knew he shared with you.

Dean suddenly gripped your thighs and stood up from his chair, interrupting your thoughts. Your eyes looked into his fairytale green irises, searching for his next move. With one hand, he pushes your schoolwork aside before setting you on the desk. A devilish smirk plays on his lips as he pulls his jeans further down, getting ready to have his turn with you. The beating of your heart begins to quicken once again, bracing yourself for what's to come.

He begins to pull out slowly, both of your cums escaping your entrance. Before too much could leak out, Dean rams into your cunt, trapping the fluid inside again. Your hands traveled to his forearms, digging your nails into his skin. With another powerful thrust, your eyes shut tightly, trying desperately not to scream. After taking a few deep breaths, you mustered the courage to open your eyes and peek at the work he was putting in. With your knees wide apart and your feet above his ass, you had the perfect angle to see his shaft drive in and out of you at a fast pace.

The only sounds in the room were heavy panting, skin slapping, quiet moans, and the thud of each thrust against the desk as the items on it moved to the steady rhythm of Dean's hips. His hands trail down your thighs and to your hips, fingertips squeezing hard enough to leave bruises, just how you liked. He angles himself so he's no longer thrusting horizontally but vertically. Your body jolts to the new sensation, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

This man was trying to kill you. You had no doubt left crescent marks upon his skin before you gripped the wooden desk with all your might. The pressure in the pit of your stomach threatened to explode any second. Short and hushed screams escaped your lips as he only went faster, harder, and even deeper than before. He knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to scream at the top of your lungs. He strived to get you close enough to shout your pleasure.

He accomplished that once his right hand slipped between your legs and applied heavy pressure to your already sensitive clit. You gasped, but before you cried with ecstasy, he leaned down and covered your mouth with his. After a few more thrusts and rubs to your bundle of nerves, you came undone. Your hands quickly make their way to his back, legs tightening around his hips, holding on for dear life as he fucked your pussy like it was the last time. Tears stream down your temples, overcome by your third orgasm seconds after your last.

Your limbs go limp, the arch in your spine straightening as your body comes down from its sex-induced high. With lips now detached, exhaustion sets in as both of you catch your breath. Dean's body presses against yours, hearts beating as one. You open your eyes to find him staring back, a lazy smile gracing his handsome face. He didn't make a move to part from your body, and you didn't intend to make him. His hand brushed your sweat-clung hair away from your face, taking in your beautiful post-sex glow.

"So much for homework."

Knowing he would say that, you teased with, "I can't help that your beauty distracts me."

Your laughters fills the room before it's interrupted by a knock on the door. Each of your eyes widened, having been—almost—caught in the act. Both of your bodies had stiffened with fear.

"Yeah?" Dean called, attempting to be calm.

"Dinner's ready," Sam replies from the opposite side of the door.

You and Dean sigh in relief; it was only Sammy. He knew better than to go into Dean's room, especially when you were over.

"We'll be right down!"

The sound of Sam's footsteps fades as he walks away from your boyfriend's door. He begins to laugh again, encouraging you to participate. There never seemed to be a dull moment with Dean Winchester. He sits up, pulling you with him before sliding his semi-hardened member out of your soaked vagina. He helps you off the desk and catches you when your legs wobble. Once you regain your balance, you pull your skirt down and search for your underwear. You could feel both of your liquids leak from your entrance, beginning to drip down your legs. Dean fetches the pair and stuffs them in his pocket.

He tucks his cock back into his jeans before zipping up. He grabs your hand and gently kisses your cheek. You close your eyes as his lips linger. The warmth of his skin radiates onto yours, something you have always found comforting. He pulls away and tugs you with him.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's go clean up."

You nod as a small smile appears on your face, knowing he'll take care of you like he always did after sex. You couldn't have asked for or found a better partner, especially so early in life. How did you get so damn lucky?

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

JENSEN TAGS : @ladysparkles78

SUPERNATURAL TAGS : @nancymcl

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO JAYS-BONNIE-ON-THE-SIDE

: do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or republish any of my works* on here or another platform

*beside my writing, my works include : all banners, headers, dividers, and gifs that i use (which were made by me,) unless otherwise stated.

[thehighladywrites]

ACOTAR MEN X READER, SITTING ON THEIR LAP

✩ summary: different scenarios where you find yourself sitting on them

✩ warnings: nsfw, 18+, mentions of sex, mentions of self-doubt, kissing, begging, gossiping, fluff, smut, crack, fun times and soft Eris😭💗

✩ amara’s note: the original cassian hc was so long that i had to stop myself bc i was thirsting and it turned into a regular oneshot lmaooo😭 anyways enjoy babes!!!!💗💗💗

reblogs are really appreciated! :D

RHYSAND

No matter how angry you and Rhys get or how petty the fight is, you two always end up holding hands, even while yelling at each other.

Sitting in his lap while you two argue about random, non important stuff is a standard

You guys just don’t do the whole “no touching” thing

Today, the argument was over who cooks better, both of you bickering pettily.

“Listen, I love you a lot, but the kitchen isn’t your best friend. It's crazy how you can burn an empty pot.”

“Maybe you’re crazy,” you retort, arms crossed over your chest as you step closer to him, leaning against his desk in his office.

He keeps arguing with you, going back and forth, while pushing his chair back from the desk to make room for you.

“Whatever, Rhys. I don’t even need to cook when I can summon anything. It’s stupid, and you’re being unfair,” you mutter as you put your hands on his shoulders and plop down in his lap, subconsciously warming at the way he holds your waist and places one hand on your back to keep you steady.

He suppresses a smile, scratching the back of his head as he looks up at your pouting self. “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. I don’t know what I was thinking. Of course, you’re an amazing chef,” he concedes, his tone laced with affection.

“Awww, come with me while I make you something,” you say, flashing him an oblivious smile.

“Oh! Um, you sure we shouldn't order something or..?” he asks nervously, his voice getting higher as he kisses you.

You slip out of his lap and hurry downstairs to plan his meal, assuring him not to worry about ordering anything and to just come down for his favorite meal.

“Dear Gods,” he whispers as he gets up, a mix of worry and fear in his voice.

ERIS

Eris had been stressed out for a few weeks now. Nothing you said seemed to make a difference.

He was dealing with his father’s death, ruling a new court as the heir, and inheriting the High Lord powers. Your heart ached for him. You wanted to be there for him, giving him hugs and words of encouragement, but you were not on that level yet

Today had been the most stressful day yet, resulting in him shutting down and locking himself up in his bedroom.

“Eris, are you okay? Can I please come in?” you knock gently on the wooden door, voice hushed and gentle.

After a few moments of silence, you hear him shuffling behind the door until he opens it very slightly.

He is shirtless, only in a pair of pants. You manage to catch a glimpse of his tired, amber eyes before he turns around to lie in his bed.

The room looks clinically clean, the only disturbance being Eris’s rugged appearance.

Without saying a word, you walk over to him and give him a hug. It’s a long, warm hug that tells him everything he doesn’t allow himself to hear: you’re there for him.

It takes a few moments for him to hug you back, but when he does, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, bringing you into his lap.

Only after an hour of silence does he speak

“I feel like i’m stuck. These powers are killing me, the board is fucking annoying, the folk believe i’m wicked and cruel and i have no idea what to do about anything.”

He looks up at you with desperate eyes, “Do you believe I’m truly wicked?”

You shake your head in honesty. “No, honey. I have not met anyone as smart, kindhearted and brave as you. Others do not know you like I do but they should,” you whisper, hands going through his tussled hair. “You’ve been hiding behind your mask for too long, Eris. Let people see the real you.”

The room goes quiet, the only sound being the beating of your hearts.

Slowly his lips meet yours in a new and experimental kiss. He stares up at you with his pupils blown but before you can apologize and get off his lap, he kisses you again and locks his arm around you

“Thank you,” he whispers between heating kisses, “Thank you, beautiful.”

CASSIAN

“Hi there sugar, what can I do for you?” Cassian asks sweetly as he flicks your nose with his finger, happy that you ran into his office and immediately plopped down on his lap

“Can you fuck me?” you ask, frustrated with the lack of dick lately.

His eyes widen slightly at your words, then he slowly cracks a handsome smile. “Gods. How inappropriate of you,” he teases, the amusement clear in his voice.

His teasing almost makes you sob. This was totally NOT the time. You almost roll your eyes before realizing he will so not give in if you give him that

“Cassian, i’m begging you. I want, no- need to be fucked. Please, i’m losing hearing in my left ear,” you beg as you get closer and sit in his lap, rubbing your hands all over his chest

He looked incredibly good, almost unfairly so. Cassian’s jaw and chin had grown scruffy in a ruggedly masculine way that made him look older and even more attractive.

A week without seeing him had only heightened your weakness for his body, making you throb.

“Losing hearing? You must be really dying for me, huh? Alright then. I’ll let you ride,” he smirks at you while unbuckling his belt.

He finally fucking let’s you fuck, hitting spots that makes you go fuzzy brained.

You make him promise to never be gone again before going for another ride, satisfied when he breathlessly promises.

LUCIEN

There is not a bigger shit-talking couple in Prythian than you two

One look between you two is enough.

Someone’s being annoying? You share an annoyed glance. Someone’s being rude? You share a baffled glance. Something’s juicy’s happening? You share a glance that says you will so talk about it when you get home.

“— and he has the audacity to two-time her? He’s lucky to find even one person willing to date him,” you gossip, lounging in Lucien’s lap, your voice dripping with disbelief.

“You’re not going to believe this, but this isn’t his first time. He did that to Tamlin’s cousin too,” Lucien adds, his tone filled with incredulity.

“No way,” you gasp in disbelief, shaking your head as the gossip sinks in.

“Yeah, apparently this guy fucks around in all courts and cheats on anyone willing to stomach. What a fucking loser, honestly,” Lucien nods in agreement, disdain evident in his voice. “The sick bastard gets off on it.”

“That reminds me, guess what I heard about Rhys in Rita’s yeaterday,” Lucien prompts, leaning in with a sly grin, clearly ready to share some gossip.

“Some males and females were talking about Rhys, saying he's replaced Feyre with a clone,” Lucien whispers, his tone laced with disdain. “And get this— they think her transformation from human to fae is fake and that there is no way she could possibly be the mother of Nyx.”

“A clone? They’ll say anything these days,” you exclaim, raising an eyebrow incredulously.

“That's exactly what I'm saying! They're probably just making shit up out of thin air,” Lucien replies, nodding in agreement.

“I wouldn't put it past them,” you say, shaking your head as you reach for a biscuit, happy to be sitting and gossiping with your love.

AZRIEL

Azriel loves when you sit on his lap.

It makes him feel safe and relaxed knowing you're close to him.

It's something he does every day when he comes home - having you in his lap. Sometimes you both sit quietly, other times you talk or fuck or cuddle, depending on how you’re feeling.

Azriel especially likes the fuck part.

He loves the part where you sit on his lap while he works. If you’re good, he’ll bend you over his desk and fuck you. If not, he still fucks you but he does it with no mercy

He makes you sit on his dick and tells you not to move and inch or you will be edged for hours, not being allowed to cum once

Fucking torture is what it is honestly

“Stop moving around so much, i can’t focus.”

“Do you blame me? You’ve buried your dick in me, of course i’m moving. Maybe do something about that.”

He raises his eyebrows at your snarky comment. If it’s something he didn’t need today it was sass.

His day was quite shitty and all he needed was his sweet mate who would kiss away his problems and take his dick perfectly

Azriel smiled slightly as he put his pen down. He would take out his frustrations on you today.

“You want to be fucked? Let’s fuck,” he says in a low tone

In the end, all his papers are scattered, all pens on the floor.

He is relaxed and all smiley while you’re on death’s door💗

[deesseshesca]

PAC :How will your future lover explore your body ? (18+)

I found a little name for all of y'all ... Bébé d'Amour. Vous etes maintenant mes bébé d'amour (Y'all are now my Bébé d'Amour).

Good morning pretty souls, I'm not a lovey dovey human but for y'all I am ready to do almost anything.

SALE 

Until October 31 all readings on my ko-fi is 30$, only

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION.

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

PILE 1 

Page pentacles, 2 swords (reverse), magician (reverse), page wands (reverse)

Their touch is going to make u reminisce about all the time u let someone else touch your body in ways u settle for. Like u never really wanted them to touch but you were to fucking lonely to refuse the act knowing damm well they were using u. Also they were not treating you correctly. They touch is going to make all the monster go away. All the time you were touch with little cares all forgiven to make place with memories of they’re caring touch. Some of y’all have self harm scars, suicide attempt scaring, they will caress it with so much love and thank u everytime for the fact that u stay even thought it was hard. They are grateful upon every stars that u’re self sabotaging behavior never got the best of u otherwise they would have never met u. Some of u don’t think you have a pretty pussy. Maybe u feel like u’re lips of too big or that they are not the same color as the rest of your cooch. Hey, they will to touch your pussy. Always munching with happiness. Others u are not circumcised, don’t matter they bumping their month on your dick with happiness in their eyes. Some of y’all have religious trauma, like your ex-environment made you think that sex is forbidden. Y’all don’t even like touching yourself. Even though u left a long time ago, u can’t seem to shake those fears off. They are going to take their time with u and respect which one  of your boundaries. At the end, you might still not like getting head but u are not going to feel as uncomfortable with the concept of it after their healing touch. Some of y’all have some vaginismus, I see them learning about it. So they can help u heal and respect the boundaries set by your body. I see them introducing the first toys before even going in themself. Until they are not sure u are ok, there’s no jumping the big boy. If you have endometriosis/PCOS, they will stop penetration sex and alter to fingering to make sure not to disturb the peace of the uterus before the big week. For all my pillow prince/princess today is your big day, they love leading. They don’t care if you spend the whole relationship on a pink/blue pillow. They love it for you. Their touch will still be playful. They will love to tickle u. Also they will love placing a hand on your stomach, even slepping on it. Especially my masculine energy, your pump stomach is literally their safe place. They will love giving you a good handjob while staring into your eyes (y’all probably have deep brown eyes) and caressing your stomach. 

💌 : Honestly Pile one, they are not going to be able to let go of you. Might be clingy, also they love language is physical touch. Will love updating you throughout the day. If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 2 

4 wands (reverse), King cups (reverse), Hanged man, 6 swords 

They love to have their hands on your private parts on all times, not in a creepy way. They would be driving and suddenly here u go, being a finger fucked passager princess. If you are an owner of a dick, u better drive with both hands on the wheel because at any moment, they may start giving u a blowjob . If you have boobs, they will have they hand on them all the time. Not even in a sexual way but because it becomes their habit. Y’all might not give a fuck at some point, until somebody stare at u in public. U end up apologizing while glaring at u’re partner making sure to get they hands the fuck out your top. They are very sensitive to your reaction. Let’s say they wanna give u a hug and u move slightly away … here comes the overthinking. If they try a new move on u in bed but u don’t moan as good as usual. They don’t reproduce it. If u give an excellent reactions, they will put that move on rotation. Also if you have painful period cramps, they will message you stomach. If you have to go regularly to the doc, they will always try their best to be there and hold your hand. Touch = love regarding your future lover. They will caress your face when u speak. Tie your hair when your hand is busy. To my burn out babe that are trying their best or my type B babe who is always so damn clumsy, they will always be behind u giving u a hand. Even when u give them head, they still worry about your well being. I’m hearing : ‘’ Baby I don’t care, if u care or not. I love when (moan) u are giving (whimper) head and are comfortable’’ before attempting to tie your hair. After a week of bad depressive episodes they will run you a bath. When they sense that u are starting to distance yourself, they will always have an hand on your waist, on your leg, shoulder any fucking where. Just to keep u from leaving with your bad thoughts. All this stand for my man in the audience, your next babe don’t play about you. Their touch heal making u realize how much you DO matter. 

💌: If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 3 

King wands (reverse), page wands (reverse), page cups, ace pentacles 

Straight from the beginning I’m getting a bad girl/boy from your person. They push everyone away but you. Actually they only see you. They don’t see any other women/men. They don’t even care about their own parents, the way they care about you. Your future person may have experienced deep trauma from age 8 - 10 years old, every night. Since is not the reading for and I did not ask for permission, I will not dive deeper into their lore. They touch = fire, when they lay their fingerprints on u, it is like your whole body is in heat. They enjoy mixing pain and pleasure. A fan of breathing plays because they get to squeeze your neck safely to give you pleasure. Loves squeezing you in general. If you have boobs, will love to squeeze them until it hurts. If you are a man, love to pinch your nipple until they see a little bit of blood even. They will also enjoy putting pressure on your balls while giving you a handjob. They are very experience lover. Probably have 15+ body. They love to play game with y’all. I’m hearing: ‘’ Let’s see how many times I can make u cum in a minute, princess…’’. If you are a man, they will love to eat your ass. If they lose you, they lose everything. They will probably haunt until they find you back again. They will NEVER raise their hand on u and  NEVER yell at you.  I see a vision of a text conversation. 

U : jhabwdbcaw

Them : hey babe, is everything ok …

U: auijdxja party hbduiAHBNDIL

Them: Can u give the phone (one of your friend).

U: But I wannnnnna takcfjawo to u 

Them: I know but I wanna see you. Can you please give the phone ? 

U: abxda yes hnqcfu

Them: Give the phone, love. 

Their touch is very gentle but very practical. Gently take your makeup off when u come back drunk. Gently draw into your tattoo if you are a man. Will casually lift up bridal style when they see dozing off while studying. If you are a guy, will softly wake you up and guide u to the bedroom. 

💌: If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

PILE 4

Knight wands (reverse), Lovers (reverse), Emperor (reverse), Strength (reverse)

Touch = understanding, will give u a tap on the shoulder to encourage you. Will caress your arm while y’all are arguing. There’s a use of: ‘’ Good girl/boy’’ in y’all relationships. When they see you grabbing the sheet, while they are down to town, that’s when they know you are on cloud 9. The only time they will stop munching even if you have already orgasm. They will love to caress your inner thighs. Pass a sneaky hand on your tits. Loves making you want more, like I see y’all making out and they are barely touching your tits while you are caressing their body. Have a very brat energy. Love to get on your last nerve because they know you will punish them. That’s what gets them going.  Has a high sex drive can go round and round in the same day but it will always start with some kind of teasing.

💌 : Y'all are going to have an amazing communication. I sense that both of y'all are yappers. Y'all are messy, you love to call each other at the end of the day and share the tea on what's going on. They will never let you go to sleep angry. I see a vision of you mad even at them but y'all still cuddling. You guy are in silence, they know they mess up but they refuse to leave on your own. Better they let you gather your thoughts with them. They may have a trauma about somebody that die on them in a middle on text con versation. That's why they can't let u go when u are mad. Don't get them wrong, they won't force u to hug them or talk. If you can't handle looking at them, they will tare at the wall, while u are in the bed thinking. If you want to know more about that future love, you can always purchase my SOUL TRIBE membership unlocking all the extra content and extended PAC reading + the audio one.

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 2 - Spider Luck

Morning came quickly despite the shitty sleep you received that night. The constant tossing and turning, the constant fear and anxiety of getting caught or broken into, really you couldn’t catch a break. 

Despite that, you did get some sleep, even if the sum total was like three hours. Still, it’s not like the nightmares would have let you sleep regardless. All your failures would consume your thoughts and drown you, reminding you of your losses. 

Sure you moved on, but it’s not like you had forgotten. Uncle Ben’s wisdom, Aunt May’s lessons, and Peter Parker’s kindness. You vowed to honor and cherish those memories, but here you are, in another fucking world, with a high possibility of you breaking some laws just to get out.

Desperate people do crazy shit, and you aren’t that sane to begin with.

Luckily this motel has a shower and you plan to use it. Making sure to clean yourself with what you have (unfortunate) and pick up the necessities that you desperately need. 

Taking your time (since you paid for it) you get yourself ready, making sure your mask, gloves and (stolen) wallet are secured inside the hoodie’s pockets. Suite nice and tucked underneath the turtleneck and leggings. First order of business is shoes. Maybe that should have been your first mission yesterday- oops. 

You definitely should have followed the young spiderlings example and fight crime with shoes. Well if you ever meet them again, you will…

When you meet them again. You will. You have to. No matter the cost.

And then your stomach rumbled. “Great! Time for cheap food. Wonder if that knockoff Wack-Donld place is open. 

Oh that’s a nice plan. But you forgot one thing, genius. Where is it? How would you know where it is? You can’t even map it since you also don’t have a phone. 

About to unlock the door, you realized something. It already was unlocked… “Hmm…” Well, it was good that you webbed the door then.

“Fuck.” Leaving the motel keys at the front, you skedaddled your way back into the streets, looking for either a bodega or a shoe store. In order to keep yourself somewhat sane, you start softly humming music you recall Miles shared with you.

After some time of walking around aimlessly (you avoided asking others for directions, gods know gothamites unwritten rule is to mind your fucking business), you found a thrift store.

Guess what you realized while browsing for shoes. If you buy and fight crime with shoes, and (as of right now) are your only pair, you will get found out. So crocs it is!

Black ones, because white gets dirty too damn easily.

Finding your size and other clothing necessities, face-mask, a backpack and a portable sewing kit, you were good to go and all for a cheap price! God you love thrift stores. You used to go to as many and as often as you could with Peter. Ya had a bad spending habit and Peter certainly never discouraged you. He was your terrible financial buddy.

Not now! You can’t reminisce right now, not until you found a way home. Asking the cashier for directions while also subtly declining their phone number (your excuse is that your phone got stolen) you made it to a corner store. Hurray!

Making sure to stock up on snacks, since- let’s be real, this will be your food source for a while, (no income, remember, silly) you stand in line to pay before your spider sense goes off.

Behind you. There’s a man, hoodie on, looking down, covering their face, hands buried inside their pockets. You’re betting it’s either a gun or a knife. 

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” Oh, it’s a gun. How original.

The cashier seemed to clock in to what is occurring and subtly reaches under his counter. Not subtle enough because the man behind you yelled, pulling out his gun and pointing at the back of your head.

What the fuck spider luck.

You quickly assess your surroundings, making note that there is only one exit, two normal people not including you but including the gunman, and the room feels tight and too small to do anything.

Conclusion? You’re fucked. 

“I said don’t move, hands up! Give me the money, all of it!” From the corner of your eyes you can see just how fidgety this man was. Probably trigger happy if you do something stupid.

“He-hey man, I don’t got much in here.” The cashier had his hands in the air, trembling and freaking out. 

“I don’t care, give me the money! Yours too, bitch. Now!”

How rude. “Alright, I’m going to get my wallet. Don’t shoot.” You made slow movements of reaching into your pocket for the wallet.

“Hurry up! Both of you!” The thug yelled impatiently. You could practically feel how sweaty and anxious this guy is.

You watched the employee open up the cashier and take the money out. The assailant motioned for you to place your wallet on the counter, which you do and step to the side, getting out of his way. Just as he goes to grab the money you quickly grab the wrist with the gun and twist it, making sure he dropped it before smashing his head onto said counter, money flying everywhere. 

Both you and the cashier watched the assailant fall to the ground, nose bleeding and out cold. “Um,” The cashier looked at you, spooked. “I panicked.”

Hey look at that, no shots fired baby! Ya still got it! You are a pro-fess-io-nal~!

“Hey man, no-um no sweat. You saved me.” He replies with a tremble in his voice.

“Cool, cool, I also didn’t want to get shot. How much for my stuff?” You asked, picking up the money on the floor, handing it back while placing your snacks on the counter..

“What stuff? I see nothing. Just go. I already called the cops.” Oh, so he wasn’t reaching for a gun (corner stores usually have one under the counters) but a buzzer or something? Nice, cool, great.

“Thanks buddy!” Hey man, free food is a blessing. Picking up your wallet and bag of snacks, you step over the knocked out guy, (pick pocketing any cash he had on him,) picking up the gun with your sweater sleeve and placing it at the counter. “Here, for the cops.”

“Thanks so much, again for everything. Hey, can I get a name? For the next time you come and…buy stuff.” He shot his shot.

“I appreciate it man, but I don’t give out my name like that. You know?”

And he missed.

“Ye-yeah…” He looked like a kicked puppy.

Just as you stepped out you heard the sound of a motorcycle nearby and your senses went off again.

“Stop right there, not another step.” A third party voice joins the fray.

What the fuck, spider luck?!

Instantly you recognize the vigilante in front of you but regardless you are not taking any chances today. 

Taking a step back inside the store, making sure to close the door on the guy. “Um, hey not to alarm you or anything but there is a guy with a mask standing outside.” Bringing your hands up (again) you back away from the entrance, snack bag swinging around with your movements. 

The employee nods pulled out the pistol from the counter (what the fuck, why would you grab that with your fingers my dude?) and aimed.

Well at least he doesn’t hold grudges for being rejected.

The door swung open and there stood a masked vigilante, but a familiar bat symbol on his chest caught the employee’s attention.

“Oh thank god it’s not another one.” Putting the pistol again he sighed in relief.

“Ah!” The yellow vigilante turned his focus onto you, (who backed up so much you tripped over the k.o.ed dude, fucking embarrassing) hands still in the air and snacks littering the floor.

Some professional you are. Fuck you spider luck.

“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” God, you're embarrassed and stressed.

The vigilante ponders for a few seconds, taking in the scenario, glancing at the employee who nods and turns his attention back. “Sorry about that. Here.” He extends a hand out towards you and to not be suspicious you hesitantly take it, your body tenses on instinct, pulling away immediately.

“Thank you.” you mumbled silently cringing at your embarrassment over spilled snacks.

“What happened?” He still faced you but you knew that question was for the other party member. And even if it was for you, you’re silent.

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” The cashier looked at his hands. “This is his.” And placed the pistol on the counter.

This looks like the perfect time to poof away so you do. Right after you pick up your snacks. Signal sees this and silently aids you. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?”

No you fucking don’t.

Holding out the bag as Signal placed the last snack in you as you shook your head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” And you walk out for the second time. You could still feel his eyes on you until the door closes.

And guess who shows up.

The men in blue.

“Hold it right there.” Bro, you just want to be left alone, is that so much to ask? This time instead of bringing your hands up (for a third time), you instead clutch your bag to your chest, mask down and point inside, making sure your voice matches your facial expression.

“In there, he stopped him there.” meek, timid, nervous.

It seems to have worked as the pair of policemen entered the store and you didn’t think twice and booked it (in a non suspicious manner- if you run, they might chase). Passing by a yellow motorcycle you take a glance back and see the vigilante stepping outside the store, looking somewhat bothered in the presence of the authorities. 

Sucks to suck, bud, you know that feeling very well, not your problem anymore.

As if feeling your eyes on him he turns his face towards you, your eyes meeting a mask. Oh fuck! You felt your hair stand up. Holding his gaze for a few seconds before turning away (any other abrupt movement would definitely make you look suspicious) you continue on your way.

Forcing yourself to not tense up and fight the urge to shiver at his cold gaze you round the corner and you feel somewhat safer again. But it’s a false sense of security, because you know you’re slowly losing your mind.

Hopefully you won’t run into him or any of the other bats.

-

Duke Thomas was patrolling his territory, the Narrows, when he got a notification.

“Signal, there’s a robbing occurring five blocks from your location. The corner store Convenience. Know it?” Oracle’s voice spoke through the comms.

“I know my way. I’m checking it out now.”

“Checking the cameras- there are only three people inside. The assailant, a civilian, and an employee.”

“Got it-”

“Oh wait. Huh, well look at that.” Disbelief could be heard through the comms.

“What is it?” Did things escalate too fast?

“The civi knocked the guy out. Basically one move.” Color Oracle impressed.

“I’m here, anything else I should know about?”

“I’m scanning what I can see of their face, but I’m coming up blank. I’ll let you know if anything.”

Duke didn’t reply, instead as he pulled up he saw someone coming out of the store. “Stop right there, not another step.”

He watched the figure (gender unidentifiable with the oversized hoodie) freeze before making eye contact with him-er his visor. Despite the hood being down, he could not see their face completely with their mask, only their eyes and hair. Just a normal civilian, who apparently knocked out a guy with a gun.

Then silence and no movement.

Until the civilian backed away, closing the store door.

Stunned for a moment, Duke could hear Oracles snort through the comms. “Think they’re scared?”

“From what, me? They took down a guy with a guy and I scared them?” 

“Careful, gun pointed straight at you inside.” warned Oracle.

He moves towards the front door, pushing it open to see the civilian from earlier backing away still, hands up before turning his attention to the employee with a gun. “Oh thank god it’s not another one.”

“Ah!” A yelp caught his attention and it seems the civi tripped on the knocked out guy he just noticed. They immediately spoke, catching his eyes,“I didn’t steal anything, I swear.” 

Duke holds in a snort before glancing at the employee who nods in confirmation before he focuses on the fallen person. He calmly walks towards them, taking note of their discomfort and reaches his hand out. “Sorry about that. Here.” 

Despite his covered eyes somewhat obscuring his vision, he couldn’t will them away from this stranger’s visible face. 

Duke watched their hesitation but placed their hands in his, and he swore he felt a spark that sent shivers down his spine. How curious. He pulled them up, noting just how light they felt in his hold.

“Thank you.” Their voice was soft, but audible.

They quickly pulled their hand away, the warmth gone. His hand held its place for a couple of seconds before he let it fall to his side. “What happened?” He still faced the civilian, both unmoving. He already knew what occurred, Oracle told him everything, but he wanted to hear them talk more.

Only the employee replied. He took note of their lack of eye contact. 

“That dude tried to rob us and they knocked him out. Oh,” Duke glanced as the cashier placed the gun on the counter. He’ll leave that for the cops to pick up if they don’t get here before he leaves. “This is his.”

His attention is once again stolen as the civilian in front of him kneels to pick up their half empty bag. Standing above them, he notes the tips of their ears are red, how cute.

“You good there, romeo? You kinda have a staring problem.” Oracle’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

Duke cleared his mind (he hoped he didn’t look weird or creepy, yikes) before leaning down as well and helped pick up the tossed chip bags.

Though he did take his time, just to squeeze a bit more time with this civilian that he has yet to identify. “You both aren’t hurt, right? Need medical assistance?” He mostly directed this question to them than the cashier behind him. He wonders if Oracle figured out this civilian's name. 

Placing the last snack inside the plastic bag he watches them straighten up before shaking their head. “I’m a-okay. Thank you though.” His eyes couldn’t seem to leave their figure as he watched them walk out the door.

“Cops outside, Signal.” Oracle once again breaks his attention. 

“Got it.” Duke turns his attention to the guy on the floor, sitting him up as two officers enter the store. One takes the guy off his hands while the other questions the employee, taking the gun.

A slight restless feeling took over him and he made his way outside, the one carrying the passed out guy following. Duke quickly takes notice of eyes watching him and he turns to see the complete unmasked civilian from earlier. 

This time, he really felt like he had a staring problem. He drinks up their appearance like water. Their nose, lips, face shape, everything. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he really couldn’t look away this time. Everything around him suddenly felt silent. He felt his body shiver.

Such a pretty face, this civilian caught his breath regardless. He’s not one to lose himself by a pretty face but it seems this one was an exception. He felt mesmerized, entranced, and tongue-tied. Something about this person had a strong lock on him, and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat excited then put off. It felt like a very tight leash, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

Three seconds. Ever since he caught their gaze, they made eye-contact (despite him wearing a mask) before she looked away and left, turning the corner. (Their features look pretty feminine so he’s going with her). 

“Anything Oracle?” He mumbled, still a bit lost.

“No dice. How strange…”

Bummer. He mounts his ride and drives off to finish the rest of his patrol. He’s tempted to drive in the direction the civilian went to, but he wills himself to not do that. God it’s like he’s down bad. Really bad.

Hopefully he gets to see you soon, it seems you’re staying in the Narrows which increases his chances to see you. As much as he curses himself internally, he hopes he can save you next time something dangerous happens again.

Something formed in the pit of his stomach, and he doesn’t know if it’s desire or obsession.

Regardless, he embraces this feeling whole heartedly.

Prev; Next;

I struggled really hard, like REALLY hard. Duke is new to me (i only learned of him because of the webtoon) Now I'm reading issues he has been in and I don't know his character well but there is a SEVERE lack of Duke fics and I made it everyone's problem. So now he's down bad.

Updates are random and spars, no update schedule and don't plan to make one. This is my hobby not my obligation.

[softbeej]

Rule Number One (You Gotta Have Fun)

Alastor x Reader Smut. U break his only rule and bother him while hes tryna work. Enjoy. :} Requests open btw.

Alastor had locked himself up in his radio tower for what felt like days. He was truly a workaholic, and loved to be busy. This was fine, except you found yourself actually sort of... missing him?

No sight of him creeping down the hallway or the impending feeling that he was about to catch you doing something prohibited at the hotel. It all felt too empty all of a sudden, and you wished he’d be back down soon, even if just to make you uneasy with that eerie smile.

So, you decided to break the number one rule set by him.

“Under no circumstances is anyone to ever enter the radio tower without my express permission.”

Well, what are rules if not to be broken, right? And that’s where you found yourself, climbing up into the prohibited area.

Ears pressed back, he turned to face you. There was no other way to put it, Alastor was fucking pissed.

You shouldn’t of come up here. You should of listened to his stupid rule, and busied yourself with something else. Maybe you had time to turn around, and pretend you made a wrong turn.

“I trust you have something important for me? Something that would be worth you coming all the way up here without my say so, hm?”

His voice was even more staticky than usual, his tone dripping with sarcasm. You were thinking up a response when he stood up and strode over to you. He jabbed his microphone stand under your jaw, albeit gently, and forced you to look at him.

“Well, deary?”

You only shook your head, hair bouncing on your shoulders.

“Then why, pray tell, are you up here? And use your words this time, yes?”

Within those few words, you suddenly understood why he was so feared. Just from the way he spoke, he could make you feel tiny and stupid.

“I, um, was just wondering where you were, is all...”

“Oh?” He released the microphone stand and you faced the floor again, feeling like a child about to get scolded. “You did know where I was though, didn’t you? So, I’ll ask once more. What brought you up here?”

He had retired back to his chair, and was watching you intently as you squirmed at his questioning. His smile never once left his face.

“You know what, I should go-“

Slam. His shadow had closed the door.

“Has no one ever told you it’s rude to ignore someone, darling? I’m just asking you a simple question, what’s the need for all this attitude? Why are you here?”

Blush rising to your face, you picked at skin around your nails still not wanting to look at his shit eating grin.

“I was bored. Missed you.”

“Ah, there we go! You see how easy that was?”

You nodded, “Can I go now? Sorry for interrupting...”

“Nonsense! You missed me, did you not? You came all the way up here for me, desperate for my attention. Well, dear, my attention you have got. Come, sit, sit.” He patted his thigh.

Oh, how you wished the world would swallow you up right now. But the worst part of this was how turned on you were at his lecturing. You think your reaction was doing the same to him, given the way his ears were perked up and pupils blown.

You walked over to him, gently perching on his knee, before he pulled you down by your waist so you were properly sitting in his lap. He continued working, tapping buttons and twisting dials, as you could only sit there and pray your heart rate would soon go back to normal.

"If I did not know any better, I'd say this encounter has you quite excited, darling! The way your pulse is rising, and not to mention the fact I can smell the arousal on you!" He laughed. "You'd tell me, wouldn't you? If I had brought out such emotions in you."

Your blood drew hot in shame, he knew.

You nodded and tried to save face, "Yes, Alastor. I'm fine, just- my pulse is high from the walk up here, that's all."

"And if you were to stand up, your answer would be the same, I presume?"

Confused, you cocked your head. He didn't say anything, just wrapped his hands around your waist and stood you up.

There it was, the evidence he was looking for. A wet patch on his thigh. Right from where you were sitting. Your wetness had leaked through your panties, leaving a spot on his dress pants.

“Well, look at this mess. And my best pants, no less! Do you have anything to say for yourself, dear?”

You shook your head, never so embarrassed in your life.

He tutted, "First, you lie about why you came up here. Then you lie about this? Darling, have you no manners? Or am I to teach you them myself, hm?"

His eyes were half lidded now, ears twitching.

"I- uh. I think you need to teach me, Alastor..." You admitted, not able to take your eyes off him.

“Finally! The right answer! You’re getting the hang of this now, eh?” He laughed, and patted his thigh - the one you’d dirtied, “Back up here. May as well see how much more you can ruin them.”

Legs shaking, you stood up and straddled his thigh. He leaned in close, “Now get yourself off. You can do that, yes? If your mewls at night are anything to go by, I’d say you’re to be a natural at this!”

The thought of Alastor hearing you play with yourself through your bedroom door sent shivers down your spine, in a good way. He grabbed your chin, angling your head to face him.

“I said you can do that, yes, dear?”

You nodded, hands reaching up to his shoulders to steady yourself as you started grinding down on his thigh like your life depended on it, maybe it did. You could feel his cock hardening. His hands trailed down your body to your hips where they stayed, helping you slowly ride his thigh.

“Theres a good girl, hm? See what happens when you behave?”

You nodded, breathing heavy, “Uh-huh.”

Alastor nodded, his hips gently bucking up for friction. Your hand went to zipper to help, but he brushed it away.

“This is your lesson. Not mine.” He winked.

So you kept riding his thigh, until your own thighs were weak, and you were close. And he knew it.

“If this were a proper lesson, I wouldn’t allow you to cum. But you’ve been so good, so good for me... You may cum.”

You nodded into the nook of his neck, letting out a pathetic whiny mewl as you came, soddening his pants. From the sound of it, he came too, letting out a staticky grunt that would of hurt your ears if you were paying attention, but you were too busy grinding your way through your climax, as he shushed you gently.

He helped you stand up, your thighs shaking and almost giving out under you. A sharp finger pressed into the stain on his pants, before he collected some of the wetness and licked it off.

“Head off to my bedroom, now, love. Get yourself cleaned up. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

The walk to his bedroom was strange to say the least. Your knees shaking and panties wet, of course Angel was going to say something.

“Christ, you look like you been fucked good, sweets.”

“I have, I think...?”

“Oh yeah? And whose the lucky son of a bitch, huh? He knows not to fuck with you, right?” He winked, ever protective of you.

As if on cue, Alastor appeared, strolling carelessly toward you both. A hand on your shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt, Angel, my dear, but I’m afraid we have something to take care of. If you’ll excuse us...” He guided you away, towards his room.

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 02

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 4k Warnings: 18+, smut in later chapters, fuckbuddies to lovers. Mentions of cigarettes in this chapter. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

"Will you come to my game this Saturday?"

Sukuna smirks that charming smirk at you again, and his voice is so velvety that it sounds as if he is asking you to come to his bedroom instead of coming to one of his ice hockey games.

You have no idea why you seem to keep running into him lately. Maybe you never were aware of how many times your paths crossed. Or maybe fate decided to play some funny little game with you and the resident hockey star, and now you keep meeting over and over again.

You shrug helplessly and smile at him,

"I don't know. I've never been to a game. I don't even know the rules."

"That doesn't matter. You'll understand it once you watch a game. And if not, you can always ask me to teach you. So, will you come and watch me play?"

Sukuna looks expectantly at you with those pretty eyes. They are a shade of brown you have never seen on anyone else before, that rich maroon color that reminds you of red wine and autumn. Those eyes and that damn boyish grin make it hard for you to say no to Sukuna.

You laugh to cover up how nervous he makes you when he is standing so close to you. Attack is the best form of defence, so you cross your arms in front of your chest, look up at Sukuna, and ask with a raised eyebrow,

"You really want me to watch you play, huh?"

Any other guy would probably get flustered and backpedal or act indifferent. But not Sukuna. His smirk grows even wider, and he nods confidently,

"Yes. Can you even say you went to college if you never saw a hockey game?"

And then he adds with a wink,

"If you come, I will score a goal just for you."

He flashes you another cocky smirk and doesn't wait for your answer but just walks away toward the gym. You stare after him, shaking your head. He is impossible! That confidence is insane! Almost infuriating.

Maybe you should watch Sukuna's game just to see him not deliver what he promised. Sure, he is the resident starboy, but how good can he be? It's not like he is a professional hockey player. Low-key, you want to see Sukuna fuck up just so you can confirm to yourself that he is just another of those arrogant guys who are all talk and no action.

That Saturday, you watch the game. Your first hockey game since you started college. The first game of the Tigers you see. The first time you see Sukuna play.

And you must admit that the stupid title they gave him is accurate.

Sukuna really is The King of the Ice. He is the King of this whole arena!

His playstyle is fast and brutal, which doesn't come as a surprise. But even as a hockey noob, you can tell that Sukuna's mind plays just as much a part as his strength and is just as dangerous as his physical attacks. Strong, ambitious, and intelligent. It's a deadly combination that makes Sukuna unstoppable.

He skates across the ice at breakneck speed, elbowing his way through his opponents and making the rival goalie yell in fear at his teammates in a desperate attempt for them to stop the devil that is speeding towards him. But nothing the other team does seems to work against Sukuna. He is always a step ahead, sidestepping them before they can reach him as if he can predict their moves. You recall him telling you that he does all the analytics and works out the tactics, and you can see now that he didn't just brag but truly seems to know what he is doing.

No wonder the whole team is built around Sukuna. He is the most important player of the Red Tigers. The center of the first line, which to your amusement, is called The Curses because they make their opponents curse their names for being so damn strong. And Sukuna is the King of Curses, which seems a very fitting title. His brother Yuuji is on his right, and Todo is on his left, and both of them are ready to beat up everyone who dares touch their star player.

That's something that seems to happen pretty often. Sukuna keeps getting into fights, but many of them aren't initiated by the rival team. Even without knowing how ice hockey works, you can see that Sukuna provokes fights. You can see his lips move behind the face cage of his helmet while smirking devilishly at a player of the rival team, taunting him until the other guy snaps and drops his hockey stick and pushes Sukuna angrily.

At first, you flinch when you see the fight that erupts from that scene. Yuuji yells something and yanks that guy off a still-smirking Sukuna, dragging him away while Todo brutally bodychecks another rival player who comes over to join the rumble.

But both Yuuji and Todo stop immediately when Sukuna casually skates over and says something to them.

You watch incredulously as Sukuna pulls his gloves and helmet off, revealing his usually slicked-back pink hair, ruffled and out of place. He cocks his head and jerks his chin challengingly at the guy who pushed him, saying something to him, and you frown in confusion as the other guy takes off his helmet and gloves too.

What happens afterward is more of a boxing match than ice hockey. The whole arena is yelling and cheering Sukuna on, singing the team's song anytime their King lands a punch on the other player. Sukuna is a dirty fighter. You can see that. He uses any means he has to win. But he is also smart enough to only do as much as he can get away with without the referee intervening. Though it is a riddle to you, why a fight like that is even allowed in the first place.

You look at Nobara, who is sitting next to you.

"Why are they having a boxing match? Why does the referee not give them a penalty?"

Nobara shrugs,

"I don't know! That's just how hockey works, I guess!"

Right at that moment, Sukuna's fist connects with his opponent's cheek, and the other guy tumbles onto the ice. Sukuna joins him immediately, pressing him down for a moment as if to show his dominance before he lets go of him, pats his cheek tauntingly, and gets up again, smirking broadly.

You only realize now that you held your breath the whole time during the fight, letting it out now and laughing as adrenaline flows through your veins.

You didn't expect to enjoy this game so much, but it's definitely an experience you wouldn't want to miss!

The crowd is cheering loudly, celebrating their King's victory in this weird, inofficial fight that somehow is part of the actual game.

Sukuna skates back to his position, his helmet under one arm and one glove between his teeth, while he puts the other back on. He casually glides over the ice while smirking around the glove in his mouth like a beautiful devil. His eyes wander over the stands, soaking in the admiring gazes and the loud cheers coming from his fans.

And suddenly, Sukuna's gaze brushes over you.

You draw in a sharp breath at the same time as Sukuna digs the metal blades of his ice skates into the ice, coming to a sudden stop. He turns his head to scan the crowd again, and your heart jumps to your throat.

What is he doing? Is he looking for me?

Your heart is hammering in your chest when his gaze finds you again in the crowd, and his grin grows bigger, causing the glove to drop from the hold his teeth had on it, but he catches it casually with his left hand.

For a seemingly endless moment, you stare back at Sukuna, involuntarily feeling your lips lift in a matching broad grin. Your pulse flutters nervously. And then Sukuna winks at you.

Yuuji skates up to his brother and claps him on the back, and Sukuna averts his gaze from you and says something to his brother, pointing at another player, and they both skate over to him. You still look at the spot where Sukuna stood a moment ago, feeling a bit dizzy.

Nobara's voice pulls you out of your daze,

"Did he just wink at you?"

And you shrug helplessly and chuckle to hide how flustered Sukuna's wink made you,

"I don't know. Maybe he was looking at someone else."

But you know he wasn't.

The players on the ice get into position again, and the game continues. But Sukuna's line leaves the ice to sit on the bench while the other players get their turn. You hate to admit it, but you catch your gaze drifting away from the actual game and over to the bench, where Sukuna is sitting, discussing something with Yuuji and Todo.

You watch Sukuna run a hand through his ruffled pink hair, slicking it back again while he takes a sip from his water bottle, which makes his Adam's apple bop in a very enticing way.

Occasionally, Sukuna yells something at his teammates who skate past him. There's an angry fire burning in his eyes. You can see how invested he is in the game. How he watches every move meticulously, probably so he can use it later when he thinks of tactics for the next game. You can see how passionate Sukuna is about ice hockey, and if you are honest, it fills you with respect for him.

Sukuna is back on the ice a while later, just as graceful as before with smooth, fast moves and brutal bodychecks, clearing a path through the rival team's defense, skating so impossibly fast that no one can stop him.

Your fingernails dig painfully into your palms as you watch in complete fascination how Sukuna hits the puck so hard that it almost tears the net when he scores the next goal. The whole arena screams, and you are one of them. So caught up in the thrill of the highspeed game that you jump up from your seat.

On the ice, Sukuna gets buried under a pile of his teammates as they celebrate his insane goal, but once he emerges again with a fist lifted in victory into the air, his gaze instantly lands on you again. And to your shock, Sukuna is smiling. A dazzling, beautiful smile that lights up his whole face. He looks happy and proud and so damn beautiful.

You remember what he said when he asked you to come see his game. If you come to my game, I will score a goal just for you.

Well, he delivered what he promised. And what a goal it was!

Somehow, it makes you giggle like a schoolgirl, and you feel your face growing hot, even as you grin at Sukuna like an idiot. He seems to have only eyes for you, locked in this intense gaze with you while he still smiles that smile that makes your pulse flutter excitedly.

The eye contact becomes too intense for you, and you avert your gaze, too shy suddenly to keep looking at Sukuna.

The game continues, and you lean back in your seat, sipping on your water bottle to calm yourself down.

You wonder why no one ever cared to inform you how exciting ice hockey is! The Tigers are really good. Sukuna is good. No, not just good. He is fucking amazing!

It's fun to watch him play. Watching him skate across the ice like some super-human. Watching him bodycheck his opponents with ease. Watching him score goals with so much speed and precision that it leaves your mouth hanging open as you stare at him completely in awe.

The game is over much faster than you expected. Time flew by any time Sukuna was on the ice. You still have no clue about ice hockey, but you know that you had a damn good time!

On the ice, you see the Tigers high-fiving each other and giving each other back claps, congratulating each other on the win. You watch Sukuna pull off his helmet and laugh at something his coach says to him.

The team takes a victory lap around the rink, waving at the crowd in the stands. But your gaze only follows one specific player with pink hair and face tattoos.

Sukuna is chatting with his brother, reaching out to ruffle Yuuji's hair while they casually skate over the ice. His left hand stays on top of his brother's head even as Sukuna lifts the other hand and smirks up at the stands, letting the crowd celebrate him one last time.

Nobara taps your arm and points to the stairs, and you quickly grab your bag and follow her, still feeling light-headed from the euphoric atmosphere in the arena.

You walk past the plexiglass separating the stands from the ice when you see a flash of pink from the corners of your eyes.

You turn your head, and your gaze instantly lands on Sukuna. He is skating casually next to you, slow enough so he matches your walking pace. There's a smug grin on his tattooed face as he lifts his chin in greeting.

You smile back at him and yell, "Great game!" and his smirk grows even bigger before he yells back,

"Did you like the goal I scored for you?"

You trip over your own feet, making a funny little dance to catch yourself, feeling embarrassment wash over you while you think you hear Sukuna's amused laughter.

You look at him sheepishly, nodding and giving him a thumbs up,

"It was very impressive!"

Sukuna grins proudly at you, flashing his white teeth with the slightly pointy canines at you,

"Oh, everything I do is impressive, princess, I can guarantee."

And you roll your eyes and groan at his arrogance, but at the same time you can't help but snicker in amusement.

Sukuna chooses that moment to grab the front of his jersey and lift it to wipe the sweat off his tattooed face, revealing his stomach with firm abs and more tattoos.

Your eyelashes flutter, and you quickly turn your head away, feeling strangely flustered at the sight of Sukuna's naked skin with the sexy tattoos and all those hard muscles.

Luckily, Nobara grabs your arm at that moment and tells you to hurry up because she wants to meet up with Maki. You let yourself get pulled along, lifting your hand to wave at Sukuna and yell a "Bye!" in his direction, which he answers with a broad, knowing grin.

"So, could I convince you that ice hockey is the best sport?"

You're on your way to class when you see Sukuna almost at the same spot where you crashed into him two weeks ago. But this time, he doesn't wear his white team hoodie but a black sleeveless shirt, which accentuates his broad shoulders and shows off his muscular arms. His red backpack is casually slung over one shoulder, and his maroon eyes sparkle expectantly at you.

You shrug.

"I had a great time. I still know nothing about hockey, though, so I'm not sure about it being the best sport. It was a bit confusing because you practically beat each other up, but the referee didn't do anything about it."

Sukuna laughs. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and leans closer to you.

"Yeah, we have official rules and other rules. I'll explain it to you over lunch. Meet me here in four hours."

He makes it sound as if it is set in stone that the two of you will have lunch together. As if the option of you turning him down, is so crazy, that he doesn't even consider it.

You are suddenly very aware of how Sukuna is towering over you with his tall, broad hockey player figure. Imposing as hell. And his dominant personality only adds to the effect.

Maybe two weeks ago, you would have run, too intimidated by Sukuna's overpowering presence. But right now, he doesn't make you feel anxious. Instead, you catch yourself leaning even closer, looking up at him, barely resisting the urge to reach out and touch his bulging biceps with those sexy black bands tattooed on them.

Your lips lift in a smile, and you give him a nod and a soft,

"Ok, see you for lunch, Sukuna."

You quickly walk toward your classroom before you can do something embarrassing like really feeling him up or drooling on his stupid, too-tight shirt.

Sukuna is already waiting for you at the agreed spot, and he grins so smugly at you that, for a moment, you contemplate just walking past him to see that smirk wiped off his face. But you behave and stop in front of him, cocking your head and asking him if he is ready.

Walking next to Sukuna feels strange, but not exactly in a bad way. Your height difference is even more prominent when you walk side by side, and it does weird things to your stomach anytime you sneak a glance at him.

But the strangest thing about the whole situation is the way Sukuna walks through the hallways as if he owns the place, and everyone seems to play along. You notice that people step aside to let him pass. Some even lower their heads, like peasants bowing to their King. It's insane to see how much authority he holds and how much people respect or even fear him.

And now you got pulled into this whole thing, too, by walking next to the hockey star!

You can see curious glances getting thrown your way. Guys are checking you out as if you are suddenly interesting now that Sukuna has graced you with his company. And girls watch you through narrowed eyes as if they ask themselves why you are allowed to walk next to Sukuna, and they aren't.

The only thing that's missing is people snapping pictures like some paparazzi.

The thought makes your lips twitch, trying to hold back a laugh as you imagine pictures of you and Sukuna walking into the dining hall together getting posted on some shady Instagram account with a caption asking who the mysterious woman by Sukuna's side is. Spotted: The resident hockey heartthrob and an unknown girl. As if you are in an episode of Gossip Girl.

A soft grunt escapes your lips, and you sway slightly to the right, making Sukuna bump into you. He reaches around you reflexively, and you feel his large, warm hand land on your upper arm, steadying you.

"Careful, princess. Or do you have a thing for crashing into me?"

You huff at his cocky comment, muttering an apology as you shake his arm off, at the same time as he pulls it away again, before you fall into step beside Sukuna again.

The dining hall is bustling at this time, but you and Sukuna make it surprisingly quickly to the counter because several people make space in the waiting line after taking one glance at Sukuna. You aren't sure whether it's his status as the hockey star or the glare he sends their way.

You get your meal and follow Sukuna, who leads you to a part of the dining hall you have never been to. Technically, this is not a private section, but everyone knows this part of the dining hall is reserved for the athletes, so you never bothered trying to find a table here.

Sukuna gestures to a table at the far end, beside the window. It is surrounded by lush decorative plants and even has a comfy-looking bench.

"This is my table. Come on, princess."

You frown at him,

"You have your own table? Is this some hockey player thing?"

Sukuna huffs and a low laugh escapes his lips,

"No, it's a Sukuna thing."

He strides over to his table and sits down on one of the chairs, graciously leaving the comfy bench to you. You smile at him and sit down across from him, placing your tray on the table.

Your gaze lands on Sukuna's tray, and you raise an eyebrow at the huge plate in front of him, filled with cooked chicken breasts, rice, and a whole mountain of broccoli. Sukuna catches your gaze and smirks at you,

"What? I have to take care of my body. I'm an athlete."

"Yeah, sure, an athlete who only eats cooked chicken and rice but smokes cigarettes. Makes a lot of sense."

"It's all about the balance. Now stop being a brat, and let me explain things to you."

Sukuna grins teasingly at you, and you can't help but grin back while rolling your eyes playfully.

Sukuna opens his backpack to grab a pen and a surprisingly neat folder from which he pulls a blank sheet of paper. He slams it on the table next to his plate and writes Hockey rules – A guide for curious brats by Sukuna on the top, making you complain in mock annoyance.

You spend the next thirty minutes eating your lunch while watching Sukuna fill the sheet with his unexpectedly graceful handwriting as he explains the rules to you. He even draws a small rink and some funny little hockey players. You laugh softly when you see him add face tattoos to the figure in the center of the first line.

Occasionally, Sukuna looks at you, maroon eyes framed by beautiful, long black lashes, gazing at you with amusement and so much intensity that it makes you feel like you are the only person in this room.

You gulp, feeling flustered at having Sukuna's undivided attention. And it doesn't help that his cologne smells really sexy when he leans across the table to point at the small drawings on the paper, explaining in that sexy, low voice how hockey works.

He is a good teacher, even though his pretty eyes and the sexy tattoos on his arms and face are distracting as hell.

But the official hockey rules are pretty easy to understand. What's more complex are the unofficial rules that Sukuna refers to as The Code, which explains why the players can beat each other up without the referee interfering. It leads to an animated discussion during which you have a ton of incredulous questions, and Sukuna answers all of them with an amused grin on his tattooed face but with surprising patience.

As your lunch break is drawing to an end, you are pretty well informed about the official and unofficial rules of the beautiful sport called ice hockey.

"Thank you, Sukuna. Now I finally understand what you are doing on the ice."

He cocks his head, laughing softly before he smirks that sexy, teasing smirk at you,

"You mean apart from looking handsome as hell?"

You groan at his arrogant remark but laugh, too, before you shove the sheet of paper across the table again. But Sukuna shakes his head.

"No, keep it, princess. So you can look at it again in case you forget something. Who knows... there might be some surprise tests. Better be prepared!"

He winks at you, and you laugh, but you take the note from his large hand.

The two of you walk side by side towards the exit, where your ways part. You thank Sukuna once again for the hockey lesson, and he grins at you. One of his large hands lands on your head and ruffles your hair, making you exclaim loudly. You reach up and try to smooth your hair down again while Sukuna walks away with his hand lifted in a casual wave.

When you return to your dorm later that afternoon, Nobara is instantly at your side, as if she manifested out of thin air.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going on a date with Sukuna?"

"That wasn't a date! We just had lunch together because he wanted to explain the ice hockey rules to me..."

You trail off, shrugging helplessly, while a triumphant grin spreads over Nobara's face,

"What do you need the rules for? To go to all his games?"

"It wasn't a date, Nobara!"

You quickly leave for your room, but you can't help but grin from ear to ear, clutching the note with the hockey rules even tighter to your chest. You know it wasn't a date, but you must admit that spending your lunch break with Sukuna was surprisingly nice, and you think you can still feel the warmth of his large hand on your arm.

HE IS SO SEXY ON THE ICE AND OFF IT, TOO 😭😭 I had so much fun imagining Sukuna playing hockey! I hope you enjoyed watching him play, too, and that you enjoyed spending your lunch break with him ❤️

Thank you so much for reading Chapter 2! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!

In Chapter 3 Reader gets to learn a bit more about our hockey star, and they have a little scene that is filled with sexual tension ;)

[kookiewithluv]

ASHES OF A PROMISE

• TITLE: ASHES OF A PROMISE

• PAIRING: Lycan king!Jungkook x Werewolf!Reader

•WORD COUNT: 4.2k

• GENRE: Paranormal Romance, Dark Fantasy, Smut, Slow burn, Fluff (?), Tragic Romance, werewolf au, Royal au

• TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains mention of abuse, with themes of intense physical desire, possessive (dom-sub) dynamics, and primal, instinct-driven encounters. It also explores deep emotional conflict, grief, loss, and difficult decisions surrounding love and sacrifice. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

• SUMMARY: You were a hopeless romantic, dreaming of a mate who would love you as fiercely as you loved him. But when you finally meet your mate, you discover he’s no ordinary wolf — he’s the Lycan king, the alpha of all alphas. Worse, he neither wants you nor is willing to reject you, leaving you trapped in a loveless bond in his kingdom. As queen to a king who resents you, the mate bond grows stronger, making you more vulnerable with each passing day. Now, you must break through the walls around his heart and make him love you, because staying in this bond without love is unbearable, yet leaving isn’t an option he’ll allow.

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

MASTERLIST 01

PROLOGUE: bound by fate forsaken by love

"Careful," Alpha Sebastian growled, his fingers clamping down around your arm like a vice. His nostrils flared, the sound of his shallow breaths prickling your skin as he yanked you upright. You winced, pain flaring in your arm, but he didn’t let go, his grip ironclad. "I didn't bring you here to humiliate me."

Your pulse raced, eyes wide with a mix of fear and confusion, but you nodded quickly. His gaze burned into you, his jaw clenched, as if daring you to do anything out of line. His fingers tightened, and for a moment, you thought your bones might snap under the pressure.

Abruptly, he shoved you back. “Behave.” The force sent you stumbling, your feet struggling to find balance. You caught yourself just before falling, your hand instinctively reaching up to cradle your arm, your fingers brushing over the dark bruises already forming in the shape of his fingers.

He turned, striding forward as if nothing had happened, but you stayed a step behind, the sight of the looming Lycan Palace making your stomach twist. The Lycan King, Jeon Jungkook, ruled from there. The heir to the Moon Goddess herself. But even his power felt distant and untouchable compared to the suffocating presence of Alpha Sebastian beside you.

Each step you took felt heavier, dragging you closer to something you didn’t want to face. You’d dreaded this moment—being forced to make a public appearance with Sebastian, to let the world assume you were his. People would talk. They would say you'd given yourself to your Alpha, that you were bound to him. But you weren't. Not yet. You were still waiting for your mate. But how long could you hold on when Sebastian hovered over you like a predator, desperate to make you his?

"Look," he spat, spinning around so suddenly that you collided with his chest. The bitter stench of sweat and something rotten made you flinch, and you recoiled instinctively, your nose wrinkling in disgust. His lip curled as he grabbed your shoulders roughly, his fingers digging in. "You stupid woman. I should never have brought you here."

You trembled, your breath hitching as his hand shot up. You flinched hard, instinctively bracing for a blow. But it didn’t come. He sneered at your reaction, his eyes darting around, scanning for witnesses. "Don’t you dare make a scene. Do you hear me?" His voice dropped to a low hiss, filled with threat. "If you embarrass me, you'll pay for it later."

You swallowed hard, your eyes fixed on the ground, trying to steady your shaking hands. “Yes, Alpha.”

“Call me Seb, my love.” His voice softened mockingly as his rough fingers trailed along your arm, leaving a sickening trail of goosebumps. "We'll be mated soon." His laugh was low and smug, and you fought the urge to shudder as he brushed his lips against your ear.

His hand closed around yours without warning, pulling you roughly beside him. As you crossed through the grand golden gates, your breath caught. The palace was magnificent, towering and glittering in the golden light, its beauty almost blinding. It was like stepping into a dream, something so beautiful, so overwhelming, it felt unreal. But all you could feel was the suffocating grip of Sebastian’s hand, his presence a chain, dragging you deeper into a world you wanted no part of.

But the moment you crossed the threshold, something else took hold of you—a scent, one you couldn’t place but that sank into your senses like fire and silk. It was sweet, yet left a trace of salt on your tongue, like a tease of something forbidden. Your wolf stirred violently, clawing at you, demanding you follow it, to find the source. Instinctively, your feet moved in the same direction the scent was coming from, pulling you toward it, but then, Sebastian’s grip tightened.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, cold. He yanked you back, his eyes locking on yours, hard and blazing with fury. You whimpered, trying to suppress the surge of your wolf's presence, but it clawed beneath your skin, making you tremble.

You weren’t scared. Not of him. But the loss of that intoxicating scent stung like a fresh wound, an aching emptiness you couldn't explain. You glanced down, guilt swirling in your chest, and muttered an apology, though you weren’t sure why.

Alpha Sebastian’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck straining as he glared at you. His nostrils flared as if he was holding himself back. You knew he wanted to lash out, to punish you for daring to act on impulse, but here, at Lycan palace, surrounded by other powerful alphas, his hands were tied. He couldn't do anything here. Not openly, at least. He was smart enough to understand the consequences of disrupting the highly anticipated celebration of the Lycan king.

His grip was bruising as he yanked you close again, his fingers digging into your skin, and without another word, he dragged you forward, his movements sharp and impatient. You stumbled, trying to keep up, your chest tight, the air thick with the scent you couldn't chase. Every step away from it felt like losing a piece of yourself.

The grand hall you were pulled into was nothing short of magnificent—gleaming chandeliers hung like jewels from the high ceilings, casting a golden light across the polished marble floors. The walls were draped in rich, dark silks, with delicate gold accents that made the entire space feel otherworldly. Tables were laid out with decadent feasts, plates filled with dishes you couldn’t name, though their smells mingled together in an overwhelming haze of spices and sweetness.

Wolves of every rank were scattered around the room, their conversations buzzing in the air, their clothes elegant and fashionable. Alphas stood tall, their chests puffed out as if to assert their dominance even here. Lunas, the mates of the alphas, swirled in flowing gowns, their laughter light but their eyes sharp. You could see them dancing together—pairs spinning in perfect harmony, their movements fluid and powerful, exuding grace and strength. For a moment, you let yourself imagine being in that position. How it would feel to be in your mate's arms, not dragged around like a possession, but held close, cherished.

Your heart ached at the sight. You wanted that too—a mate, someone who would look at you the way these alphas gazed at their lunas, with love and pride. The longing inside you twisted, pulling at the raw edges of your soul. The scent that had driven you mad earlier lingered in the back of your mind, making it impossible to forget. It was as if your wolf was howling inside you, desperate for something you couldn’t reach.

As you and Alpha Sebastian made your way deeper into the hall, Royal Beta Kane approached, his posture stiff but polite. His eyes flicked to you, then quickly back to Sebastian. "Alpha Sebastian," he greeted with a slight nod, his voice steady though his expression barely hid the distaste he had for the man beside you. Kane was well respected, a figure of calm authority, but here, in front of Sebastian, there was something uneasy about the way his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Alpha Sebastian barely acknowledged him, his fingers still digging into your arm. “Bee, this man has some serious issues,” your wolf whispered in your head, and you couldn’t help but agree. Alpha Sebastian was undeniably disrespectful. Beta Kane could easily take him down, but you trusted that he wouldn’t; he was strong yet kind. Kane's gaze slid to you again, softer this time, but still cautious. "Welcome," he added, though it was clear the welcome was more for you than the alpha at your side. There was something in his tone that hinted at a shared understanding, like he knew more than he was letting on. "The night’s just begun."

Before you could respond, a woman appeared at Kane’s side, her posture relaxed but her smile sharp. Beta female Shina, Kane’s mate. She greeted you with warmth that almost made you drop your guard, her hand gently touching your arm. "You look stunning tonight," she said kindly, but there was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes. Curiosity, maybe even suspicion. Her words seemed genuine, yet you could feel the weight behind them, like she was searching for something in you.

“Thank you!” you replied, a subtle smile touching your lips. “You look lovely as well.”

Shina’s gaze lingered a little too long before she asked, almost too casually, "Have you found your mate yet?" The question came like a dagger wrapped in silk. Her tone was light, but you could feel the intensity of her interest, the way her eyes seemed to pierce through you, trying to extract some hidden truth.

You opened your mouth.

Then closed it again.

You hesitated, but before you could say anything, Sebastian’s grip tightened, pulling you closer to him. "That’s not a concern right now," he interjected smoothly, his voice cold but controlled, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He didn’t even look at Shina, his eyes staring straight ahead, but his tone was enough to shut the conversation down. "We’re here for the gathering, not to entertain idle gossip."

Shina’s smile didn’t falter, but you could see the flicker of disapproval in her eyes, though she quickly masked it. Kane, on the other hand, openly glared at Alpha Sebastian for a split second before offering a strained smile. "Of course, Alpha." His voice was clipped, and you could sense how much he loathed the man dragging you around like a trophy.

As you continued through the hall, your eyes wandered again. The space was filled with grandeur, but it all felt suffocating, like you were on display for everyone to judge. The music, the laughter, the mingling wolves—it all felt distant, like you were watching from behind a glass, detached from the joy around you. Your focus kept drifting back to that scent, tugging at your mind like a beacon, and every step Sebastian pulled you further from it, the more hollow you felt.

Then, as you glanced back at the couples dancing together, something inside you snapped. Your wolf stirred, restless, a growl rumbling in the back of your throat as you watched their perfect harmony. You wanted that too, but not with Alpha Sebastian. Never with him. The frustration, the longing, everything was becoming unbearable. You could feel your wolf pushing at the edges of your control, wanting to break free, to find the source of that scent that had consumed you.

Alpha Sebastian suddenly pulled you closer, his face hard as he whispered into your ear, his breath hot and cruel. "Keep your eyes forward," he growled. "You’re making a spectacle of yourself." His grip on you tightened again, and this time, you felt your resolve harden.

The night was only beginning, but you were already suffocating.

The night stretched on painfully. Eyes followed you everywhere, and not just because you stood beside an alpha. You could feel the weight of their scrutiny—the whispers, the stares from the other wolves, especially the women. The kind of attention that crawled under your skin, making your body tense and your heart race. But you knew why they looked at you like that.

Alpha Sebastian had lost his mate. Your luna, beautiful, kind, beloved by the pack, was gone. And yet here he was, parading you around like a replacement. It didn’t sit right with the other alphas. Their glances spoke volumes—curiosity, disdain, disbelief. Even the lunas looked at you like you had somehow betrayed your mate’s memory, as if you had willingly stepped into this twisted role.

But they didn’t know the truth. None of them did.

You forced yourself to stand tall, even though their whispers buzzed like wasps in your ears, stinging with every word. They thought you wanted this—power, position. They thought you were trying to become the next luna. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Power meant nothing to you. All you wanted was freedom. To be loved, to be safe, to find your mate and escape this nightmare.

Alpha Sebastian’s hand was still a vise around your arm, his anger barely contained. You could feel it radiating off him in waves, his frustration at being unable to act, his fury at the alphas who dared question him. His eyes burned with it every time someone looked at you for too long, his grip tightening as if to remind them that you were his.

But suddenly, it hit you again—the scent. That same intoxicating smell that had nearly pulled you under earlier. Sweet, but with that strange, salty edge. Your wolf surged to life inside you, snarling, pushing, desperate to follow it, to find its source. You tensed, fighting the urge to tear away from Sebastian’s hold, to run toward it. Your breath quickened, heart pounding as the scent grew stronger, pulling at you like an invisible thread.

Your wolf howled in your chest, clawing to get free. You couldn’t stop it this time. Your body trembled, muscles twitching with the need to move, to find the one who carried that scent.

Alpha Sebastian must have felt the shift in you because he suddenly jerked you closer, his face twisted in rage as he leaned down, hissing in your ear. “Don’t even think about it.”

But, it was too late. The worst was already done. You were the one who had done it.

Your hands were trembling, outstretched before you, eyes glazed over with a wild yellow glow as your wolf surged to the surface. You didn’t even realize what you’d done until you saw him—Sebastian—your alpha, sprawled on the floor. His face twisted in shock, a groan escaping his lips, the pain evident in his expression. But it wasn’t the pain that held his features for long. It was humiliation. His eyes, wide with disbelief, met yours, and then that disbelief turned into something worse.

Rage.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as his eyes burned into you, glowing with that fierce, golden fury only an alpha possessed. You knew you had crossed a line. A line no one crossed and lived to tell about. Panic bloomed in your chest, a voice screaming inside your head, This is it. You’re going to die. Today’s your last day on this earth.

"Really, Bee? You're telling yourself that crap? He won’t kill you." Your wolf's voice broke through, but her words didn’t settle the fear. Not when you saw Alpha Sebastian’s jaw clench, the muscles ticking as his eyes flared even brighter.

He stood, his movements quick and deadly, not even brushing off the dirt on his clothes as he advanced. In a heartbeat, his hand was on you again, tighter than before, pulling you forward with a bruising grip. You stumbled, your feet barely keeping up as he dragged you through a maze of dark hallways. The walls seemed to close in, the darkness swallowing you both, but none of it mattered. The scent—the one that had your wolf clawing to the surface—grew stronger, pulling you closer to it with each step.

But then, he stopped.

Before you could even catch your breath, Alpha Sebastian slammed you against the cold stone wall, his hand wrapping around your throat, cutting off your air. Your back hit the wall hard, knocking the wind out of you, and you gasped, clawing at his hand. His grip only tightened. You could feel your wolf shrinking, her presence slipping away, retreating like a coward.

“How dare you,” he snarled, his face inches from yours, his breath hot and bitter on your skin. His eyes blazed with raw fury, and you could almost feel the heat of it searing into you. “You fucking slut!” The words were venom, dripping with hate as his grip tightened even more. The edges of your vision blurred, your chest heaving as you tried to suck in what little air you could.

"Yuck," your wolf muttered from the far corners of your mind, disgusted. But you couldn’t respond to her, not with the way his hand was crushing your windpipe.

“You dare embarrass me? In front of them? In front of the all? All those people?” His voice was low, dangerous, his wolf rising to the surface as well. The deep growl that followed shook through your chest, sending tremors of fear straight to your core. You had never seen him this enraged before. His wolf was there, just beneath the surface, and you knew the consequences would be dire.

Your hands reached up, weakly clawing at his arm, but his strength was overwhelming. Your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up, and your mind was screaming at your wolf to help, to do something, but she stayed hidden, her tail tucked, too afraid to face what she had started.

Coward, you thought bitterly, your vision growing darker as Alpha Sebastian’s grip tightened. You weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on.

Your vision began to blur, the edges darkening as you felt consciousness slip through your grasp like water. The pressure on your throat was suffocating, your body giving in, but just before the darkness could pull you under, a thunderous growl reverberated through the palace walls. It was so powerful that even Alpha Sebastian stumbled back, his grip releasing you as he collapsed to the ground.

Gasping for breath, your body slumped against the wall. You barely had a moment to recover when you heard it: "Your Majesty." The words, though whispered by Sebastian, echoed with fear. His head was bowed, his voice faltering despite the forced firmness.

The moment the air returned to your lungs, that scent hit you again, this time sharper, intoxicating, and overpowering. Your gaze, still weak from the lack of oxygen, followed the scent until your eyes locked on him—the Lycan King, Jeon Jungkook. The air thickened around you, and before you could stop it, your wolf stirred, her presence undeniable as she howled the word: Mate.

You had dreamed of meeting your mate countless times, picturing it so vividly that it felt real in those sleepless nights. You would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, your mind running wild with every possible scenario—bumping into him unexpectedly, his eyes locking with yours, an instant connection that would spark something deep inside you. You imagined feeling safe, cherished, like every piece of you had finally fallen into place. Each night, the thought of him made you smile, and you held on to the hope that your meeting would be nothing short of perfect.

But nothing had prepared you for the way it actually happened. It was nothing like the gentle, romantic moments you had envisioned. Instead, it was raw, overwhelming, and filled with tension you didn’t know how to handle. The reality of your mate was so much more intense, almost frightening, and certainly not what you had expected. There was no softness, no easy smiles or warm embraces. There was only the power of his presence, the way his gaze pierced through you, the storm that surrounded both of you from the moment your eyes met.

And yet, despite the fear and confusion, despite how things had unraveled in the most unexpected way, a strange sense of satisfaction settled in your chest. There was something about him, something undeniable, that made all of it—every sharp moment, every overwhelming second—feel right. You couldn’t explain it, but even after all that had happened, you were glad you were here, glad you had come.

And a broken sob tore from your throat, your body shaking as you instinctively reached out toward him, the one you were bound to. Jungkook stood at the entrance, his broad frame tense, caught between shock and a deep, simmering rage. Despite the anger rolling off him in waves, his presence brought you an unexpected sense of calm. You inhaled shakily, your gaze clinging to him, your wolf desperate to reach her mate.

Jungkook’s eyes flicked over your figure, pausing as he swallowed hard, but when they fell on the bruises circling your neck, his expression hardened once more. His entire posture shifted, muscles coiled tight with barely restrained fury. Just as you tried to crawl toward him, Alpha Sebastian’s rough hands grabbed you, yanking you back toward him.

Jungkook's eyes darkened further, his gaze a cold, lethal blaze. The air around him seemed to still, thick with the weight of his fury. His lips curled back, baring teeth in a vicious snarl as he took another step forward. The ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet, and even Sebastian flinched under the intensity of his presence.

"Take your filthy hands off her." His voice was low, commanding, vibrating with power. There was no question in his tone, only an undeniable force. His eyes never left Alpha Sebastian’s, burning with a warning that promised destruction. "Now."

Alpha Sebastian, frozen by the sheer weight of Jungkook's command, released you instantly. His trembling hand dropped to his side as he took a half-step back, but it wasn’t enough.

"I'm afraid I'm unable to understand you, your majesty. She is my mate—" Alpha Sebastian's voice trembled with urgency, his brow furrowed and eyes wide, fists clenched at his sides. He felt the heat of the moment, the tension wrapping around them like a coiled snake, ready to strike.

Before he could finish, a low growl rumbled through the air, echoing off the stone walls like thunder. Alpha Sebastian flinched, his muscles tensing instinctively as he met the piercing gaze of the Lycan king. The alpha’s chest heaved with a mixture of anger and desperation, a primal instinct fighting against the authority before him.

Jungkook's hand gripped your waist, yanking you upright with a sudden, rough motion that left you gasping. His touch wasn’t gentle—it was possessive, and in that moment, you felt like nothing could tear you from him. His body pressed against yours, a solid wall of fury, his scent engulfing you, filling every part of your senses. His eyes, wild and unrelenting, flicked back to Sebastian, voice low, deadly.

"You think she’s yours?" He laughed, a dark, humorless sound, his lip curling in disgust. "I should rip you apart just for daring to speak those words." His grip on your waist tightened as his gaze bore into Alpha Sebastian, his voice dropping to a growl that was pure dominance. "She is mine. Her soul, her body, her very breath belongs to me." His eyes gleamed with a deadly promise. "Touch her again, and I’ll show you what happens to those who cross me."

Alpha Sebastian took another step back, fear flickering across his face. But Jungkook wasn’t done. His smile stretched wider, more menacing, as he tilted his head, eyes narrowing into slits. "You don’t get it, do you?" he spat. "She was never yours. Not for a second. She is mine—my mate, my queen, and you will never touch her again, not in this life or any other."

You felt your heart race at the possessive words, but the weight of them brought you comfort, a promise of safety in the chaos. Jungkook’s hold on you tightened just slightly, and you leaned into him, the warmth of his body pushing away the cold fear that had taken hold of you moments before.

Before Alpha Sebastian could respond, Jungkook scooped you up effortlessly and turned away, walking swiftly to somewhere unfamiliar. But you didn’t care where he was taking you. You exhaled loudly, resting your head on his shoulder. His body, already tense, grew even more rigid under your touch. His eyes darted to you, wide and hesitant—almost scared. Scared?

"Why does he look like he’s seen a ghost? I told you to wear that red dress bee. You do look like a ghost in white." your wolf’s voice echoed in your mind, sharp with irritation. "I’m already furious that Alpha is still breathing, but this? This isn’t something I expected from a king. Not nearly possessive enough."

Her words shocked you, but you had to admit, she had always been bold, unapologetic in her opinions. You didn’t have time to respond, though, as you realized Jungkook had carried you into a room. It was dark and dusty, the air stale, as if no one had used it for months. Gently, he laid you down on the bed, his touch surprisingly careful. You were hurt, but your wolf had healed most of the injuries, leaving you with barely a bruise. Still, you couldn’t help but savor the attention, his attention, as fleeting as it was.

He stepped back, hesitating. You could feel the tension thick in the air, the way his gaze lingered on you, searching, maybe even conflicted. He wanted to say something—you could tell by the tightness of his jaw, the way his fists clenched at his sides—but silence stretched between you, suffocating. You finally broke it.

"So, is this your room?" You said shyly, but he only stared at you. His eyes glazed with half longing and half disdain. "It’s not bad, just… not clean." You explained further.

"It’s a guestroom," he replied curtly, his voice hollow, leaving you confused. Before you could press further, he turned, his broad shoulders tense as he faced the door. "I’ll send someone to tend to you."

"Why?" you blurted out, panic rising in your chest. Why is he leaving? Male wolves were notorious for not leaving their mates' side after meeting, sometimes staying close until the bond was fully cemented. He was the Lycan King—shouldn’t his need to be near you be even stronger? Why was he abandoning you here?

His back still to you, his voice came out low, almost growling, "I’m no saint, and this isn’t some fantasy. Being bonded to me isn’t a blessing—it’s a curse. The Moon Goddess punished you, and I’m here to make sure you live through it."

With that, he walked out, leaving the room before you could say another word.

You stood there, stunned, the weight of his words sinking deep into your bones. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed onto the bed, mind reeling. Punishment? What had just happened? He had claimed you, pulled you from Alpha Sebastian, protected you—only to throw you away like this?

You pressed a trembling hand to your chest, trying to make sense of it all, but the pain was sharper than any of your injuries. What did this mean? What had you done to deserve this?

Taglist: @jksusawife @nnnnmmmuuiu @jiminismine4ever @freyaniobe @piercidh34rts @furioustrashlover @lola75111 @pitchblack0309 @whoa-jo @teeheewhy13

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! What's your favorite part of this chapter? I'd love to hear! If you want to be tagged for future chapters, just holler. Also, character asks and drabble requests are open, so hit me up with your wildest ideas.

[kingtomura]

Love Spell

Summary: He knows he’s got you hook, line and sinker by the way you bite your lip and make room for him between your legs. It’s so desperate it almost disgusts him.  You are Shigaraki's biggest fan and he wants to break you.  Cw: Tomura shigaraki x female reader, slight yandere reader, shigaraki has a hero kink, mean shigaraki, degradation, choking, spit kink, dumbification, pro hero reader, traitor hero reader, controlling/possessive shigaraki, dacryphillia, intercrural, unhealthy relationships, begging, praise, mdni wc: 3.3k | crossposted to ao3

You feel dirty. 

You feel dirty, cold and disgusting every time you do this, but you just couldn’t stop. 

You can’t remember when it started or who made the first move on who, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re here now, under him as he leers over you, grin wild and wicked knowing he’s got you right where he wants you. 

“What’s going on in there, hero?” Shigaraki questions you, his body towering over you as his legs straddle your thighs. 

You know better than to lie to him. 

“N-nothing.” You meekly reply hoping he’ll be satisfied with your answer and move on. 

He brings a hand down, holding your cheeks together and you wish he would lean down, get closer, give you more. “That’s right,” his voice is low and filled with amusement, “nothing going on in that dumb little brain of yours.”

This time you whimper, thighs pressing together to hide your arousal. It would only be dragged out more if he knew how much his words turned you on. 

“Stupid little hero. What are you here for?”

“Y-you.” You squeeze through pressed cheeks. 

The answer does not satisfy him this time. “What about me?”

“Your cock. I came here for your coc— ah!” Your words are cut short as he flips you over, cheeks mushing into his dark pillow. 

Shigaraki wastes no time disintegrating your shorts and dragging your underwear down playfully slow. 

It drives you mad. 

“No! No— Shigaraki, I-I want to see your face, please!” You beg and it would be pathetic to your own ears if you weren’t so horny. 

The low rumble of his chuckle has arousal pooling in your belly and you can almost feel the slick sliding down your cunt. 

“You want to see my face?” He mimics and you nod as best you could with your face pressed down. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

And you’re back on your back, sigh of relief falling from your lips as you meet Shigaraki’s red gaze. 

He leans forward and you feel your heart rate rise, his hair brushing your cheek as he whispers in your ear, “but don’t think this means I’ll go soft on you, hero.”

You nod, uncaring and wanting nothing but him — too smitten by his proximity to really care how he treats you. 

His smile should insight fear, make you curl away and run, but it only spurs on the warm feeling in your chest even more. 

He knows he’s got you hook, line and sinker by the way you bite your lip and make room for him between your legs. 

It’s so desperate it almost disgusts him. 

You are Shigaraki's biggest fan and he wants to break you. 

A hero is still a hero, traitor or not. But there’s nothing in the rules against using the prettiest one he’s ever seen for his own benefit. Especially when she becomes such a loyal puppy for him in his bed. 

He pulls down his own pants, cock red and leaking at the ordeal and the sight of it makes you reach forward. You want to take him into your hand and take care of him yourself but he stops you, slapping your hand away in disgust. 

“Don’t touch me.” He hisses, eyes filled with vitriol and anger. You nod and lean back, waiting eagerly for him to touch you. 

It’s never the other way around — Shigaraki has made that clear more than once. 

He lazily drags a finger between your folds, the touch making your hips jump forward in surprise. You’re so wet the slide is easy. 

“Whatcha’ so wet for, slut?” He questions slowly pressing his index finger into your sopping cunt, forcing a moan from your throat. His finger reaches deep and it has you gasping, fighting with everything you could to refrain from fucking yourself on it. 

You knew better. If you tried to take more than he offered, he would take it away. 

So it’s to your delight when Shigaraki takes pity on you and pushes a second digit in, dropping the rest of his body down to lap at the sensitive area of your neck. 

You moan unabashedly, glee of the stretch making you dizzy, but it doesn’t end there.

Shigaraki takes his time, gliding his fingers in and out of your cunt, searching diligently for that sweet spot inside that drove you mad. He presses deeper, pulling a gasp from you as he finds exactly what he’s looking for, abusing the spongy spot as he sucks dark bruises into the column of your neck. 

The push and pull is intoxicating and you feel the warmth in your abdomen spread as the feelings become more and more intense. Shigaraki nips at your neck, the sharp pain pulling your focus back to his ministrations and you chance tangling your fingers in his ashen locks. 

He allows it, you can even feel the small grin sneaking onto his face and you’re sure you’ve done the right thing. 

You should have known better. 

Tomura takes your distraction in stride, pressing a thumb to your sensitive clit and massaging it along with his other movements. The pressure is so intense you almost fall apart then and there.

Almost.

Shigaraki has shown you time and time again that nothing is ever easy. He wouldn’t let you cum so soon — and he doesn’t. No, he takes his fingers away from you and sits back, taking in the sight of your ruined orgasm. 

“You didn’t think I'd let you go that easy, did you?” His grin is wicked as you writhe below him, forcing yourself not to reach down and finish the job on your own. 

“N-no.” Your response is meek, but he enjoys it. Shigaraki leans down, face so close and you feel lost in his carmine eyes — you can’t help yourself when it happens. 

You lean forward to kiss him, feeling captivated by his gaze and Tomura swiftly turns his head, avoiding your lips and leaving you high and dry.

He scoffs, pulling away once more to give you a halfhearted glare. “No, thanks, hero.”

Begging was on the tip of your tongue, only stopped by Shigaraki hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder, putting your cunt on full display for his eyes only. 

The chill of the room made you shiver, but you didn’t dare shy away from him. 

“Such a pretty cunt, such a pretty girl. Too bad you’re a dumb little hero.” His hand is uncharacteristically gentle as he rubs your smooth thigh. 

His words pull a whine from your throat, eagerness getting the better of you as you stir, ready for anything else he would give you. 

Shigaraki grabs your other leg, throwing it over his shoulder as well while his cock rests on your pelvis.

It’s thick and heavy on your abdomen, already leaking precum onto your stomach and near your navel. You feel the heat pool between your legs at the thought of his cock bruising your insides with its girth. The thought is electrifying and you squirm under his touch.

Shigaraki seems to finally take some pity on you as he starts to thrust, pressing your thighs together. They are soft and plush under his grip and he moans at the friction. 

You can’t beg him, if he knows you want him inside he’ll just continue to fuck your thighs, cumming all over your stomach while he lectures you about patience — leaving you horny and unsatisfied.

So you wait, allowing him to fuck your thighs while you watch his eyes close and sparse brows furrow at the sensation. 

He gets lost in the feeling and looks down at you, his ruby red gaze pulling you into a trace. “You want me to cum like this?” He asks through thrusts. 

You don’t, but you know he just might if you tell him that. 

“Y-yes. Whatever you want.” You hope he believes you. 

Shigaraki’s lids lowered, the unamusement plain on his face and you know you’ve fucked up. 

“Liar.” He spits and you whimper. “Fine, I’ll give it to you, just stop looking at me with those eyes.”

He spreads your legs once more and kneads the sensitive parts of your inner thighs. It makes you cry out. 

“Shut up,” he spits, sneer on his mouth as he straightens up, sliding his cock between your wet folds and pumping it with your slick. “Before I really give you something to cry about.”

You worry your lip, tired of the game and downright sick of the waiting. 

“You know what,” he ponders as he lines the thick head of his cock with with your entrance, “I just might.” 

His smile is wicked as he gives you no time to mull over his words, instead choosing to fill you completely and suddenly, the ache of the stretch makes you cry out, eyes pressed shut at the intrusion. 

“What?” he questions, wasting no time setting a heavy pace, hips pulling back only to snap forward, shoving his cock further into your soft walls. “Thought you wanted it, hero?”

You reach a hand back, gripping the pillow beside your head as you try to hold on to your tears. The throb of the stretch was nothing compared to the rough rhythm the villain set. You couldn’t hold your cries in if you tried, but you knew Shigaraki would only try to make them louder. 

“Yeah, that's it,” he murmurs, steady pace rocking you against the bed with a force that slowly drives you up towards his headboard, “cry for me.”  

Tomura’s red gaze is locked on yours as he drags his hand up your body and to your breast, cupping them with a gentle squeeze. You moan out at the action and gasp as he tweaks a perky nipple between his forefinger and thumb. 

He slowly moves his hand up further, reaching the column of your neck as he failed to hide his grin. 

His hand is large as it wraps around your neck, four fingers down and one dangerously close. It was close enough to make you sweat. It was a threat. Don’t move too much or I’ll slip, he would tell you. It scared you to your core but god it turned you on, too. 

You gasp at the feeling, fear furthering your dizzy pleasure.

“Open your mouth.” Shigaraki commands, and you oblige — eager to please. “Stick your tongue out.” You do, causing him to chuckle. 

“You look fucking stupid.” He leans over sticking his own tongue out and you watch as the slick clear spit drips from his tongue down into your mouth.  

“Swallow it.” His words are sharp and you do as you are told, hoping that maybe he would give you a reward, but he doesn’t — you receive only a dark laugh in return. “Nasty bitch.” 

His words are filled with vitriol, but you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you. Shigaraki closes his eyes, pounding into you as his fingers press onto your neck. 

The pressure makes you gasp, vision going blurry. 

Shigaraki can’t help it, he can’t help the way your pretty cries fizzle out when he presses too tightly or holds on for a little too long. Deep down, he feels like you deserve it. It's his own special way of knocking you down a peg — of knocking all heroes down in more ways than one. 

You can tell he is getting lost in it by the way his rhythm is smooth and he has the perfect amount of pressure on your neck that makes your brain fuzzy and makes you see stars. 

But what he doesn’t know is that he’s driving into you so good and it’s making your eyes roll back with the way the head of his cock brushes against your sensitive spot inside. It doesn’t help that he's only picked up the pace, mistaking your silent cries for overstimulation. 

He’s hitting it over and over again, each brush sending jolts of pleasure up your spine and try as you may but you just can’t keep holding on. 

Tears build in your eyes, threatening to spill over as you realize you won't last much longer. The pressure inside of you was getting tighter and tighter as your thighs began to squeeze around his waist. 

You’re close.

So close and you can’t stop it when it happens — your brows furrow as your thighs tense at the sensation.

You’re about to cum and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

You can’t even make a sound because Shigaraki is squeezing your throat again and that’s all it takes. It pushes you over, back arching as waves of pleasure shoot through your body. 

The feeling is so good and you can't stop the tears from escaping now, body in a state of extended euphoria as your lungs struggle to inhale more air into them. 

It's an accident, an honest accident that you couldn’t have stopped if you tried, but you know the man above you would never see it that way. 

“Did you— did you just cum on my cock?” You can see the anger through the lust in his eyes as he slows his pace down to a much more shallow thrust. It makes you shiver. 

“Yes! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Shigaraki—“

“God, you’re such a slut.” He huffs, like this ordeal was no more than a mere inconvenience instead of a mind numbing orgasm. 

You feel relieved, fully believing he would not punish you for something you couldn’t control.

You’re wrong. 

In an instant, Shigaraki pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach and caging you beneath him. 

“You feel so needy, right?” he questions, pulling a whine from your throat, “Needy girls just want to cum don’t they? You don’t need to see my face.”

At this, you feel the thick press of two fingers sinking into your cunt, the slick from your orgasm making them slide in with ease as the smooth feeling of Shigaraki’s digits bring tears to your eyes. 

“I do, Shigaraki, please—” you start, ready to beg for his forgiveness. You would do anything to get him to fuck you within an inch of your life again, “A-Ah—!”

He wastes no time in continuing his attack on your sensitive walls, pulling a cry from your throat as you writhe from the overstimulation. You've already cum once and the added pressure of his fingers pinpointing your sweet spot is only driving you closer and closer to another one. 

Your mind feels muddled as you have no choice but to lay there and take the pace Shigaraki has set with his fingers, the rising pleasure making your toes curl as even more tears fall from your eyes and onto his dark pillow. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” he murmurs, loving the submission you’ve given him. 

Shigaraki presses down on your back, pinky carefully raised as he his other hand goes in and out, pace ruthlessly steady as he pulls you towards another climax. 

Overstimulated and crying, you are only along for the ride as Shigaraki forces another orgasm from your already wracked body, the slick juices coating his fingers and feeding the fuel to his fire. 

“Oh, fuck.” he breathes, riding out your climax as you cry into his pillow, it feels electric as he carries you through it. 

You can’t help the next words that leave your lips, too intoxicated by the ongoing pleasure given to you by the man above. 

“I’m sorry, Tomura!” you blubber, tears blinding your vision as you gasp for air. You're drooling on the pillow and ruining his sheets but you can't stop — it just feels too good. “I love you!”

Tomura is behind you, caging you on the bed, his warm tongue licking the tears from your cheeks. “You love me? Well, isn't that cute.” 

He doesn’t say it back, he never says it back but you tell him anyway. What else could this overwhelming need for him be called?

He doesn’t give you a second to breathe as he flips you back over and slides back in — picking back up on his aggressive pace while you fight to stay coherent. 

He’s fucking you so hard and so deep you barely register the crown of your head knocking against the headboard from his thrusts. 

“The pretty, dumb little hero is in love with the villain, hm?”

You’re openly crying, the tears flowing freely as you writhe from overstimulation. 

“But it’s okay. I’ll guide you — I’ll help you.” He rants on, thrusts only getting rougher. “I’ll show you how much the heroes don’t care about you — I’ll educate you. Teach you a lesson.” 

You’re whining, keening high and needy as you feel your next orgasm approaching. 

“You want that? Want me to fuck you stupid and bring you to my side?”

You nod, desperately chasing your high again. 

Shigaraki is amused. “Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll just get you pregnant and leave you. Tell your little hero friends you got knocked up by a villain, hm?” He’s close to your ear, his hair tickles as it fans over your cheek.

You didn't care what he asked of you at this point, you were inches away from your third peak of the night and you would agree to walk with him into hell if it meant he would make you see those stars again. 

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself, having reached a conclusion, “I think you’ll make a good example.”

You feel caught in a trance as Shigaraki continues his pace, eyes locked on yours as his mischievous grin widens. He loves to see you broken and needy. But you knew, deep down, he would never stop calling you to his bed, no matter how many times he’s threatened you. 

His eyes close, getting lost in the pleasure as his strokes begin to stutter and become uneven.

“Gonna cum — where do you want it?” His sparse brows furrowed as he pistons into you. 

“Inside, inside!” You beg and it’s a mistake. 

Tomura would never give you what you want. 

He pulls out at the last second, pumping his cock and sighing in relief as he spurts rope after rope of milky white right onto your cunt. A few of the solid streaks hit your clit and make you jolt from its pressure.

You should have known he wouldn’t listen to your pleas.. 

He leaves you high and dry, cunt pulsing around nothing as you cum for the third time tonight. It would have upset you more if he hadn’t wrecked you so thoroughly beforehand. 

Shigaraki watches as you come down from your high, eyes glossy as the tears on your cheeks begin to dry. You couldn’t move if you wanted to and you’re thankful he hasn’t kicked you out yet.

No, he does something that shocks even you from your blissed out stupor. 

Shigaraki leans down and captures your lips in a deep, chaste kiss. One that goes no further than a press of the lips but sends your heart racing. 

He pulls back only a sliver and then you see it. 

It's only a flash, and then it's gone again. 

You notice the way his eyes soften ever-so-slightly as he pulls away further.

Lust, want, longing. 

Shigaraki can lie to himself as much as he wants to, but you know the truth.

Love is not the opposite of hate and there is such a thin line between the two.

Tomura Shigaraki is not immune to raw emotion, no matter how much he claims to be.

So you lie there, catching your breath and knowing he would make you leave soon, but knowing he would call you back all the same. 

But it's okay — you would keep chipping away at his resolve in the meantime. 

You know that it’s only a matter of time until he cracks.

[areyouwell]

Sciophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of shadows. An adult or child with Sciophobia may experience extreme stress and anxiety in everyday life due to the nature of light and shadow.

Ch.2

Ch.1 <---

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: the most DISGUSTING, tooth-achingly sweet fluff, like candyfloss-style shit. i vomited twice writing it and once again proofreading it. they make pasta together for TWO THOUSAND WORDS so if that ain't yer thing im sorry the good stuff will start soon. and by that i mean body horror. i threw up writing that for a completely different reason...

Word count: 11k (strap in and strap on folks)

A/N: as mentioned in the warnings, this is almost pure fluff. sure there's MC rage so strong my timbers were shivered but other than that it's mostly fluff. i want you guys to know, i am setting us all up for failure, because this WILL get sad. but it'll get hot first, then downright filthy, the a little disgusting before it gets sad, we got a while to go so booties ch.2 LFG

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit

“Maybe just try… concentrating harder?” 

It took all of your willpower not to cross the few steps it would take to punch Scott’s lights out. Why the Professor assigned him to help with your training, you’d never know. Sure, it wasn’t like you were constantly at each other’s throats like he and Logan seemed to be, but you never exactly saw eye to eye either. Scott was too… neat, for you. He liked rules too much, always following what his head told him he should do, rather than following his heart or gut. It was infuriating on missions, and you’d had plenty of arguments about the correct course of action before he became the de facto leader whether you liked it or not. 

That was shortly before you went away, so you didn’t really have much time to experience the dictatorship of Scott Summers, and now you were back, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to. 

“Ya know what Scott? I’d never thought of doing that, thanks!” you bit sarcastically, sweat beading along your brow. You’d been at this for well over an hour now, hour two fast approaching with no progress. You’d successfully shadow-walked, though Cyclops noted your hesitation to do so. But could he blame you? The idea of shadow-walking and then suddenly not having the strength to pull yourself back together, or whatever it was you did, was quite frankly, terrifying. 

Scott sighed, placing a hand on his hip and running the other through his hair. “Alright, take ten, I’ll talk to the Professor.” He said, already making his way towards the iron doors. You let loose a frustrated breath, bracing your hands across the back of your neck. This was hopeless. Utterly hopeless. What’s worse, is that there was no proof you could actually do those things. No proof that was the Professor was saying was fucking true. 

You were glad the back wall was cast in shadow as you stormed across the floor, sending your fist careening into the metalwork, instantly regretting your outburst when the crack of your split knuckles rang out louder than the punch itself. Clamping your lips between your teeth to stop yourself from crying out, you let yourself breathe through the pain, savouring it just slightly. It was good. Pain was good. It reminded you how you weren’t just a pile of shadows wandering aimlessly through the air yet. You doubted you could feel a broken hand if you didn’t have a hand to feel with. 

Turning your back to the wall, you slid down to the floor, head buried between your knees with your arms casing you in, throbbing hand gripping your opposite shoulder tightly. You wouldn’t cry. You would. Not. Cry. That wasn’t you. You don’t cry. Since when did you cry?

This was how Logan found you. He’d been stuck in a meeting with Xavier and Storm all morning, going over the blueprints of the latest rescue mission the team would embark on. Though in all honesty, he was barely listening, his thoughts disobediently drifting back to you. The memory of your smile, the teasing lilt in your voice, the way your arms felt wrapped around his neck, the scent of your hair invading his heightened nose. He wondered how you were getting on with Scott, and he pitied the fact you were having to do this with Scott. That was until the man of the hour walked through the doors, disrupting the meeting and finally releasing him back into the world. 

It’s no wonder his feet led him straight to you, you’d been on his mind that much. So to see you like this, curled up against the opposite wall, your hand an angry red, it tugged at his heart. 

You didn’t seem to notice him as he crossed the room, only looking up when he kicked the gym mat with his foot. There was that smile again. The one that didn’t reach your eyes and only serve to fool people who were fucking idiots into thinking you were okay. 

The last person you expected to see walk through those doors was Logan. Last you’d heard, he was stuck in a meeting with Charles and Ororo. Scott was initially furious he’d been asked to help develop your mutation instead of intent ‘crucial strategy meetings’ so he called them, but he soon lightened up when you not-so-subtly reminded him it’s because Charles thought he was the best option to help you. 

You sighed heavily, bracing your good hand on your knee as you rose to your feet. For Logan to see you in such a sorry state wasn’t high on your list of priorities. You were pretty sure it wasn’t on that list at all. 

“Not goin’ well?” he asked softly, and you had to grit your teeth to stop yourself from tearing up. You watched his eyes flicker from your face to your hand, thick brows pinching in concern. You followed his line of sight, not that you needed to, you could fucking feel your knuckles pulsing fire up your arm. 

“Uh, no, not really. I’d love to say I did this punching Scott, but he left before I could, so I took it out on the wall instead.” You half smiled, and Logan found himself blowing out a huff of laughter. Even in this state, in this mindset, you could still find humour. 

Sinking your hand into the shadows across the wall behind you, you felt the familiar tingle of, what you now know was your body breaking apart, before the slight itch of pulling it back together as you dragged it back out, good as new. 

Logan thought for a moment, hazel eyes flicking from you to the shadows behind you. “Have you tried–”

“If you’re about to say ‘concentrating harder’ I might have to hurt you.” You interrupted, much to his amusement.

“I’m assumin’ that’s what Scott said?”

“Word for fucking word,” you said with a slight lopsided smile. Now that one reached your eyes. 

Logan took a few steps forward, now borderline pinning you against the wall. If it wasn’t for his hearing, he would have missed the way your breath hitched slightly, the slight shudder in your exhale. He chalked it down to your apprehension toward your situation. He had to. Giving himself hope like that just led to a shit load of hurt.

“What I was goin’ to say, was have ya tried from in there?” he raised a brow, his eyes looking past you and at the wall behind, and you had to take a minute to remember what you were talking about, his proximity all but throwing all and any thought out the window. It was achingly familiar to yesterday in the kitchen.

“You might be onto something…” you breathed when you remembered how to form words. Now you were thinking about it, he could be right. Why on earth were you trying to call the shadows to you, when you could drag them out with you? However, the idea of once again disappearing into shadow didn’t fill you with the same sense of freedom it once did. 

And Logan could see it. The hesitation, apprehension. You’d told him you were scared last night, but this was the first time he’d seen it. “I’ll be right here, yeah?” Fuck the way you looked at him shattered his heart. You wanted to be brave, you wanted to have the same sense of wonder you always did when it came to your mutation. He looked at the clench of your jaw, the flare of your nostrils as you nodded. 

“Alright… don’t go anywhere.” you half-joked, sliding your hands down the cool wall behind you, feeling your skin tingle at the mere idea of disappearing into the darkness. 

“Where would I go? You’re right here.” Logan responded, placing his index finger on the centre of your forehead and pushing ever so slightly. It gave you enough courage to fall back into the darkness, feeling the release of those threads holding your corporeal body together. 

Logan wasn’t really sure why he said that and he hoped to fuck you were too nervous about this whole thing to actually register what he’d said. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he watched you fold into the shadow, taking a few steps back and looking at his watch. Any longer than three minutes and he’ll start to think this was a really bad idea. Though, he probably should have told you that before you disappeared. 

Fuck.

It was always a strange sensation. Your consciousness was still intact, but the rest of your body had disappeared, scattered into a million different pieces. Probably billions. You couldn’t see, but you didn’t need to. You could sense. Sense the layout of the room. Sense where the shadows begin and where they end. Everything became nothing, and it was freedom. Quieting your thoughts, you concentrated. Concentrated on pulling. It was the same itching sensation you felt when leaving the shadows, except you tried to ground yourself.

Ground yourself in a place that had literally no ground.

This was fucking impossible.

You felt yourself slipping, the shadows around you not knowing what it was you were asking. Did the shadows have consciousness too? You didn’t know. Who fucking knew? And you didn’t fucking care. You tried to concentrate again, pulling against those threads you used to bring yourself from one place to the other toward you.

And only succeeding in moving again. Walking. This was no fucking different to what you’ve always done. Just moving from one point to the next. You’d already fucking mastered that. 

But at least one good thing had come from this. You weren’t afraid anymore. 

You were fucking angry.

Your consciousness writhed like a ball of angry vipers, pulling at all and any threads you could sense around you, flicking from one place to another with no rhyme or reason, no direction. 

If you could scream, you would have done. If you could lash out, you would have done. Rage rippled through your senses, those threads around you thrashing and flailing. Useless. Fucking useless. Maybe this was the fate you deserved. Disappearing into nothing, being nothing. Maybe you did deserve it. 

But you wouldn’t fucking accept it. Not yet.

This is “–fucking POINTLESS!” you roared, stepping from the shadow, your body itching all over, buzzing with adrenaline, your back almost burning. Your eyes took time to adjust to the light again, but you were too furious to register anything. “What’s the fucking point? Nothing works! I can’t pull them toward me, I can’t pull them with me, this is fucking stupid!” you continued your tirade, almost feeling the physical weight of your failure heavy upon your shoulders. “I can’t fucking do it, so why bother trying? It’s been a day and I’m already sick of this shit!” you heaved, breath searing your newly formed lungs, sending shockwaves of fire through your shoulder blades. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been this angry. “If this stupid fucking mutation doesn’t kill me I’ll do it myself I swear to fucking god and what the FUCK are you smiling at Logan?!” You bellowed, your eyes finally registering what they were seeing. 

Logan had probably the world’s most gorgeous smile, and you wished you weren’t too pissed off to appreciate it. But before he had time to answer, Scott and Charles entered the room, Scott dropped a mug of what looked like freshly brewed coffee straight onto the floor, the shattering of the ceramic lingering in the air as the room fell deadly silent. 

“What?” you asked, now slightly fearful as the three men peered at you, each with a different expression. Scott seemed utterly horrified, his jaw slack and agape. Charles looked almost smug, a knowing smile pulling at his lips. And Logan?

Logan just grinned at you, arms folded across his chest. “You did it,” he whispered, nodding to what you thought was the wall behind you. Your eyes lingered on his as you turned your head, finally looking at what everyone else in the room seemed to be seeing. 

Honestly, you were fucking shocked you didn’t notice. At least now the burning in your shoulder blades had an explanation. 

Two broad, rippling wings of pure shadow spread wide from your back, the darkness almost pulsing along with your rapid heartbeat. It felt good, and you noted the lack of pressure about your body. Those threads that seemed constantly under strain had loosened, seemingly constantly fed by the shadows at your back. 

You slowly pulled at the strings, watching the wings move and shift with your intentions. Your fury dissolved as you watched in complete awe, along with the three others in the room. They folded close to your back and you felt the buzzing of energy against your leg, before you extended them again to their full size, tips grazing either side of the room. 

“Wh… H-how?” Scott managed to stutter, taking a cautious step forward. You looked from your shadows to Cyclops. 

“It, uh, it was Logan’s idea. Pull them out with me rather than trying to pull them towards me…” you were still reeling, slowly extending your fingers before trying to move the rest of your body. You didn’t know how much concentration it was taking to keep them intact, and you were a little afraid of letting them slip. Your breath came heavy as if you’d run around the estate at least four times. 

Logan looked back at Scott, unable to help his ‘fuck you’ brow raise. And to his satisfaction, Scott clicked his tongue in irritation. He turned back to you when he heard your slight laugh, clearly having noticed the silent exchange between them.

“How did you even know about this?” Scott asked accusingly.

“She told me.” Logan retorted as if it was the most obvious response on the planet. Scott just stood there in shock.

“She… she told you? She told you. As in, the one over there?” Cyclops pointed at you and you flipped him off in return.

“Yeah? Who else would we be talkin’ ‘bout?”

“It’s just, she doesn’t tend to… do that,”

“She is right fucking here!” you held your arms up, gesturing to yourself in a way that thankfully returned the boys’ attention back to the situation at hand. 

“Yeah well, this is all well and good,” Scott continued, crouching now to pick up the larger pieces of the shattered mug, “but how do you release them?” he finished. 

He had a point. You couldn’t wander around the school with two giant wings stuck to your back, as much as you wanted to. How would you get through the doorways? Xavier wheeled forward until he was next to Logan, his face now much more serious.

“Carefully. Release it too quickly and the threads could go with them,”

“Wouldn’t that just mean she would be back in the shadow?” Logan asked, slight concern lacing his baritone voice. There was a catch here, and every single one of you knew it. 

“Ordinarily yes, however, she cannot disappear into her own shadow. If she releases those threads anywhere other than back to its original form, there’s a risk of her disappearing with it and getting stuck,” He explained, to nobody’s understanding. You knew you couldn’t disappear into your own shadow, you’d tried before and your body simply wouldn’t let you. 

“So wait… I can pull the shadow with me but have to return it to where it was, essentially?” you asked, slowly so that your question could be understood, even by yourself. Charles nodded, and you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. 

Logan couldn’t help but feel partly to blame for this. He’d encouraged you to take this step, to try alternate methods of developing your mutation, and now he had, you were stuck like this until you felt sure you could release it carefully. Shit.

‘She made it this far because of you. We have a chance at changing her fate because of you, Logan. You cannot regret that.’ It was always jarring when the Professor found his way into his head, and it wasn’t the least bit soothing. What did ease him a little, however, was your slight reassuring smile, renewed with confidence. 

You could see he was battling with guilt, terrified that he may have endangered you. But you could do this. You’d already managed to achieve something you never thought you could today, what’s one more miracle?

“Hooookay, let’s try this… carefully, right?” it was a rhetorical question because honestly? You were a little scared, and stalling seemed to give you time to collect your thoughts and calm your slightly stuttering heart.

“Carefully,” Charles instructed, and you nodded once before taking another deep breath. Holding it for a few moments, you tightened the threads you hoped to fuck were holding you together, keeping them in place before blowing out the breath, releasing your connection to the wings behind your back. You felt them bleed down your shoulders, shivering slightly as the shadows snaked down your legs and back against the wall behind you, returning to their original state. 

You’d closed your eyes at some point, honestly, you couldn’t remember when. You were scared to open them, scared to see if you’d fucked anything up, if parts of your body were just completely shadow, or whether you had accidentally grown multiple limbs or something. You knew your mind was running away from you, but you couldn’t help it, as ridiculous as it felt.

Logan smiled slightly to himself as he watched the shadows wash away and return to the wall, and that inward smile broadened when he noticed you weren’t moving, eyes clenched shut, your hands balled into fists, your shoulders tensed and hunched. He stepped forward and up to you, gently bracing his hands on either side of your neck, thumbs angling your jaw up a little. Your soft gasp didn’t escape his ears.

“Y’alright?” He asked, eyes searching your face before finding your own gaze, your lids having fluttered open. You visibly relaxed, one hand that was previously balled into a tight fist now gently sliding up his wrist, resting atop his forearm. Your touch was electric, fingertips sending shivers down his spine. 

“Fine, I think,” you responded, gliding your nails through the hair on his arm. It was an absent response to his touch. You wanted to be closer to him, to bury your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his pinewood scent. His breath was a mix of mint and tobacco, and you wondered if his lips had a permanent hint of whiskey if you were to taste them, having been told by a grumbling Jean that was who the hidden, half-empty bottle in the cupboard belonged to.

You instantly mourned the loss of his touch when he stepped back, though you were grateful he did. You’d been dangerously close to kissing him, and whilst you still wanted to, perhaps not without an audience of Charles and Scott.

“How are you feeling?” You blinked when the Professor addressed you directly, having forgotten what living in reality was like for a few moments. Nodding along with an answer you hadn’t voiced yet, you grinned along with a deep, contorting rumble of your stomach.

“Apparently, starving.” A chuckle escaped your lips and you braced a hand against your stomach in an attempt to soothe away the uncomfortable feeling of hunger. 

“I think that’s enough for today. Logan, could you take this one to the kitchen? Make sure she’s fed.” There was a knowing look in Professor Xavier’s eye that Logan wasn’t sure he liked. Sure, he may have just lovingly held your face whilst bringing you back from the brink of terror, but that didn’t mean there was anything going on between the two of you. You met yesterday!

“Sure.” he shrugged, trying his damnest to sound nonchalant about it. You stretched your arms up above your head, popping your elbows slightly as you followed Logan from the room, feeling a thousand times lighter than you did when you entered two hours ago. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you’d succeeded. 

The doors closed behind you with a soft swish, and you paused to appreciate the man walking ahead of you. You’d known each other for less than twenty-four hours, and yet you’d tear the fabric of the universe apart to ensure his safety. You knew almost nothing about him, and yet you felt the strangest pull towards him, a yearning to be around him, to be near him. It was infuriating, but so fucking exciting at the same time. Could this maybe be something? Did he feel this weird connection too? Or was it just your delusions working overtime? Honestly, hard to say.

“Take a picture, it’d last longer.”

You snapped from your daze to notice he’d turned back to you, realising you weren’t following him. Flashing him a broad smile, refusing to feel any kind of embarrassment that he’d caught you practically staring at him, you jogged a little to catch up, effortlessly falling into step beside him.

“Wanted to thank you,” you looked up at him through the corner of your eye, catching his own gaze. 

“What for?”

“Everything. Logan, I’ve known you for less than a full day and you’ve already helped me more than people I’ve known practically my whole life. The Professor excluded. So yeah, thanks.” You shrugged, hitting the button on the lift to take you both back up to the ground floor. The doors closed and you leaned against the back wall, crossing one ankle over the other. 

“You need better friends if you’re thankin’ me for anythin’. Wouldn’t anyone else do the same?” he asked, mirroring your stance against the adjacent wall, folding his arms across his chest. You snorted a laugh, and he found himself smiling at you.

“Yeah, friends would, but like I said, we haven’t even known each other a full twenty-four hours yet.”

Logan cocked a brow, his smile morphing back to a small smirk. “Well pardon me, princess, I thought we were friends.” 

You rolled your eyes, and Logan had a horrendous feeling he’d misread the entire situation between you. “I mean like, lifelong friends, asshole. People I’ve known ever since I can remember. Not people I met yesterday,” you finished, gently kicking his foot with your own. Logan straightened up as the lift slowed to reach the ground floor, softly flicking your forehead in response to your kick, causing you to bat his hand away.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? You made an impact,” he shrugged, and you grinned.

“Oh yeah?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, bub. I’m just sayin’ you show up after not existin’ and immediately cause trouble.” he watched your expression shift from mischievous to a sheepish pout, unable to beat the trouble-maker allegations. He sighed slightly. “But hey, maybe I like trouble.” The doors opened for the both of you to leave, Logan being the first to make his exit. Though, you stayed behind for a beat.

“Or maybe trouble just likes you,” you retorted with that same lopsided smile he’d come to admire so much, before pushing back against the wall to join him. 

“Yeah well, ‘m’not mad about it either way,” he mumbled, and you thought better about teasing him for it. You imagined this was about as close as he was gonna get to voicing genuine care for you, so you let it drop, simply humming a thoughtful smile in response. 

You don’t know why you were expecting the kitchen to have a few people in it, since classes were currently going on. Maybe it was due to the fact you hadn’t exactly settled back into the life of a teacher yet. Not that you were a teacher anymore, the man currently rifling through the snacks cupboard had seen to that. You found, with no small degree of surprise, that you missed it. You missed teaching combat and strategy, you missed taking the kids through training drills and exercise routines. You missed helping them hone their mutations, with Jean’s help, or Ororo’s help. Sure, the worry of them getting hurt always used to play on your mind, but now you were back, you realised that the worry was worth the fulfilment. 

Taking a seat at the table, you propped your chin up on the heel of your palm, watching as Logan crouched to one of the cupboards below the counter. You didn’t pretend like you weren’t enjoying the view. He really did look fantastic for one hundred and thirty. In peak physical condition.

“I’d say take a picture again but I’d really rather you didn’t,” you were too focused shamelessly staring at his ass you hadn’t noticed he was peering at you over his shoulder with a not-so-subtle smirk. You flashed one right back.

You were coming to like that phrase. “I wouldn’t be opposed,” you retorted, wiggling your brows up and down. Logan snorted a laugh. 

“You flirt with everyone like this?”

You shook your head, moving to rest your chin on top of your now interlaced fingers. “Nah, only with the ones over ninety. I have a thing for older men,” you winked and he rolled his eyes.

“Stop,” but judging from his expression, Logan was finding this just as amusing as you were. But as much as you wanted to continue, your curiosity got the better of you.

“What’re you looking for?” you asked, standing from your seat at the table and skirting around the wood to sit on the edge closer to him, peering down over his shoulder. 

“There used to be a packet of insta-noodles in here somewhere but I think one of the kids got to it first,” he explained, and you gasped dramatically, to the point where he actually looked a little concerned over his shoulder. “What?”

“Insta-noodles? My brother in Christ, please tell me you were not about to give me instant fucking noodles?” you felt something in you die at the thought, and something else died at his affirming nod.

“Yeah, what's wrong with that?” he asked, genuinely perplexed by your reaction. It was just noodles for fuck’s sake, it wasn’t like he’d just offered to kick a baby. He blinked at your barked laugh of disbelief, watching as you hopped off the table and shooed him aside.

“Step back fossil–”

“Hey!”

“and let me do this. We’re going to actually have food. Like, real food. Take a seat or watch and learn.” You shot him a look over your shoulder, before gathering whatever ingredients you needed. Logan dragged one of the chairs back from the table, taking a seat to watch whatever it was you were about to make. 

You started by dicing an onion, a pan with oil already heating up on the gas stove, and it took all of three minutes for Logan to be impressed by your knife skills. You almost wielded the thing like a dagger, flipping it this way and that, before scooping half the pile of onion and dropping it into a plastic bowl. The other half you scraped into the pan, and Logan couldn’t help but savour the sound of the sizzle and the smell of food. Suddenly, he too was starving.

You crossed to the fridge, rummaging around the bottom shelf before pulling out a tub of minced beef, and a packet of mushrooms. Closing the door with your hip, you lay the ingredients out on the counter, pulling open the cupboard above your head to retrieve a box of breadcrumbs and a carton of eggs. Though he saw you pause briefly, turning your head back to him.

“You’re not vegetarian or vegan, right? Probably should have asked yesterday,” your question made him laugh, and you tilted your head to the side. “What?”

“Do I look vegan to you?”

You stuck your tongue in your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. No, no he didn’t. But at the same time, you’d made a similar mistake in the past. And it still haunts you to this day.

“Just answer the question, Lo’” you grit, placing a hand on your hip. Logan blinked, trying his best to get past the nickname you’d just given him. Usually, nicknames were his thing, having about a million different ones for a million different circumstances. He barely managed to shake his head, earning himself a smile of gratitude from you, before you turned back to your task at hand and he could settle himself with his brow pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

You crouched again, rifling through the cupboard with cans. Pushing a stack of soup to the side, you froze solid, your eyes blowing wide as your hand shook at what you saw. Another mug, though someone had gone to great lengths to hide this one. Your fingertips grazed the faded image, a photograph of a younger-looking you and a girl with fair features, her braids tied back at the top of her head. Her smile was brilliant. Dazzling. It took you a moment to will your blurring vision away, before inhaling deeply and bringing out the chopped tomatoes you’d been looking for, setting it to the side. Taking a moment to push her from your mind whilst stirring the slowly browning onions, you then cross to fill the kettle, flicking the switch to start boiling. Logan blew out a breath, having recovered from his heart stuttering and finally went back to watching you cook. 

It was calming, almost hypnotic, the way you moved about the kitchen. Folding the onions in with the beef mince, breadcrumbs and two eggs. Only, it just occurred to him he had no fucking clue what you were making. Standing from his seat, he moved over to lean his shoulder against the fridge door, now having a clear line of sight to watch what you were doing.

“What’re you making?” he asked, smiling slightly as you startled. He didn’t mean to scare you, he just honestly didn’t realise how deep into the process you were. 

“Meatball Marinara,” you answered, your fingers incorporating the ingredients in the bowl until you were left with a sticky, meaty lump you could form balls out of. 

“From scratch?” he asked, eyes slightly wide. You’d spoken at length about your cooking last night, and how you’d learned, and it wasn’t that he didn’t believe you, it was more that he didn’t quite realise how impressive it was until he was here, watching you. 

He swore, your smile could start and end wars.

“It’s pretty quick and easy, to be honest,” you explained, eyes never leaving your task despite feeling his own trained on you. You grabbed the salt from the spice rack, twisting the grinder a few times until you felt it was right. That was what a lot of cooking was for you. Just feeling. When you felt something was done, you’d take it from the oven. When you felt something needed a little more seasoning, you’d sprinkle some paprika in for an extra kick. Nothing was ever done by the book. 

It’s mainly why you didn’t exactly get on with Scott.

“Huh…” Logan responded, watching how you’d started to take small portions of the beef and roll it into little balls, placing them onto a separate plate. 

“Could you give the onions a quick stir? ‘ve got meat hands,” you wiggled your slightly shining fingers in his face, and he jerked back, much to your amusement. Logan fought the urge to flick your forehead again, settling on ignoring your evil little laugh and instead focussing on his critical mission of stirring onions. 

“D’ya cook like this when you were away?” he asked, finding an insane amount of domestic comfort in cooking with you. He saw you shake your head out of his peripheral vision. 

“Nah, didn’t have time, plus I was moving around a lot. Usually, it was quicker and easier things than this,”

“Like insta-noodles?”

You could fucking hear his smirk, and you managed to stop yourself from cracking an egg over his head. “No. Never insta-noodles. Ever.”

You’d finished making little meatballs and had started splitting apart a bulb of garlic, crushing the cloves beneath your knife before peeling off the skin and dicing them before dropping them into the pan he was still stirring. His eyes closed involuntarily as you leaned across him, once again your scent hitting him like a freight train, only this time your shampoo had blended with the sweet, slightly musky smell of your sweat. It was enough to drive him fucking feral. 

“Keep stirring that, or it’ll stick to the bottom and burn,” you instructed absently, halfway through chopping up a few mushrooms before leaning across him again to drop them into the pan as well. Logan held the spoon like it was his lifeline, knuckles draining white as you moved around him to retrieve another pan.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded, and you snorted another laugh. He really had to pull himself together. 

You poured the boiled water from the kettle into the new pan, lighting the burner and setting it on a high heat, bringing the water roiling before grinding salt for what Logan felt was far too long. He wondered vaguely if you had high sodium levels, or how your blood pressure was. You waited again for the water to come back to a boil, before placing a sizeable amount of spaghetti into the pan, putting slight pressure on the tips so the ends would soften and bend faster in the water. 

Placing the lid over the pan, you went to check your watch. Your watch that you weren’t wearing. Fucking goddamnit. You looked around for a clock, before noticing Logan’s wrist. 

Logan’s soul nearly left his body at the way you grabbed his hand, twisting his wrist to make a note of the time. You weren’t exactly rough, but it was assertive enough for him to think twice about the kinds of things he was into…

Wait, what the fuck was he talking about?

“You could’ve just asked the time,” he muttered, tugging his wrist back almost possesively. 

“Hm?” you blinked. In truth, you’d been utterly lost in how good this felt. How right it felt to just do average, mundane tasks with him. “Oh, right, yeah, sorry. Could you tell me when ten minutes have passed?” you asked, almost instantly busying yourself again by carefully dropping the meatballs into the pan he was stirring. “Gotta brown off the meat first…” you instructed softly, almost absently. But he listened, slowing his movements. Your resulting smile was radiant. “Hey, you’re a natural!”

Logan raised a brow. “I’m stirring a pan, bub. Not exactly gourmet style.” You laughed, gently hitting his bicep with the back of your hand, only to stop in your tracks, shaking your knuckles out. 

“Ow! I thought you said your bones were made of adamantium,” you exclaimed, rubbing over the back of your hand with your other palm. In truth, it didn’t really hurt, but you just wanted to make a point because nobody has the right to be this built. It was insane.

Logan bit his tongue to stop from smiling, his eyes sliding from that pan to you. “Just the result of a good workout regime,” he shrugged as if it were nothing special. In reality, he knew he looked good. He put a lot of work into his physique, and whilst his mutation did help with that, it was still nice to be complimented on it once in a while. 

“Huh… you don’t say,” you responded, cracking open the can of tomatoes once the meatballs had browned to your satisfaction. The metal sizzled slightly as you poured in the sauce, setting the can to the side and retrieving a few basil leaves from the window box on the opposite side of the room. Logan hadn’t noticed it before, remarkably, and though having no experience with plants in recent history, something told him he wouldn’t have too much trouble identifying what they were.

It was a weird feeling. Remembering something he didn’t actually remember. Though it had been the story of his life for the last few years. 

You dropped the leaves into the sauce, leaving him to stir the pot whilst you brought out two sets of plates and cutlery and set them on the counter, angling your head so you could catch sight of the time from the watch on his wrist. He would have just told you if he didn’t think you were deriving some kind of joy from attempting to read his watch sideways.

Removing the lid from the pan, you scooped up a single piece of spaghetti, blowing away the steam before dropping it into your hand when you thought it was cool enough. You shot him a quick look Logan could only describe as pure mischief, before throwing the spaghetti against the backsplash of the stove. He watched as the pasta hit the wall with a sick squelch, before sliding down the tiles. 

He looked back at you, and you almost instantly burst into fits of laughter. “The fuck was that for?” he asked, his brows furrowed in perplexion. 

You managed to recover from laughing, though hiccuped through a few giggles. “You can tell whether spaghetti’s done by throwing it at the wall. If it sticks, it’s raw, if it slides, it’s done,” you exclaimed, tilting your head to get another look at the time, noting that those ten minutes were up.

“Really?” 

“Nah, that’s an old wive’s tale. Honestly, it’s just kinda fun to pelt spaghetti at a wall and call it ‘cooking’.” You sent him a wink, and Logan shook his head in fond disbelief. He felt like he’d seen so many sides to you in the last twenty-four hours alone. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he wanted to see more. He wanted to see how many sides to you there were, and whether he would like them all as much as he liked the ones he’s already seen. Your fury included.

“Your ten minutes it up, by the way,” he reminded you, and though he had a feeling you already knew, you nodded in thanks anyway, removing the boiling pan from the stove and flicking off the burner, the blue gas flames retreated to nothing. Skirting around him to the sink, you tipped out the water, using the lid of the pan to stop the rest of the spaghetti from falling with it. You shook the pan slightly, shaking out any pieces that had stuck together, before setting about separating the contents into two portions, one slightly bigger than the other. 

“How’s it looking?” you asked, leaning back to take a look at the sauce. If Logan had to grit his teeth after smelling your scent one more time his jaw would fucking snap. You really weren’t making this easy on him, were you? Part of him wondered if you were doing it deliberately, but there was no way of you knowing about his heightened senses. Unless you’d asked around, which, with everything you’ve had going on since you got back, he sincerely doubted. 

“Looks good to me, but I’m not the expert here,” he handed you the spoon, stepping to the side for you to take over. Your fingers brushed his as you took it, and he tried his fucking best to ignore the slight buzz you’d left. 

Lifting the spoon to your lips, you sampled what you’d been slaving over for the last twenty minutes, smiling slightly as the sweet, tarty flavours burst on your tongue. It was a new sensation for Logan to wish he was a spoon, but here he was. 

“Perfect!” you beamed, dipping the spoon back in the sauce and turning to him, your palm cupped beneath the wood to prevent anything from spilling onto the floor. “Wanna try it?”

Logan shrugged, stepping forward and allowing you to bring the spoon to his lips. Your eyes never left his, the tips of your fingers grazing the coarse stubble beneath his chin, but you didn’t move away. He struggled to focus on anything other than how close you were to him, the feeling of your fingers on his jaw, your breath fanning the lower half of his face. Your hopeful eyes waiting eagerly for his verdict, searching his expression for any kind of clue. And he was suddenly afraid of what you’d find there. 

Stepping back, he pretended like he was savouring what you’d fed him, and whilst it was fucking delicious, it didn’t compare to how he imagined your lips tasting. Or anything else, for that matter. 

“‘S’really good,” he managed, and you immediately looked as if you weren’t waiting with bated breath for his approval.

“Isn’t it? Fuck I’m good,” your laugh was more akin to an evil mastermind than someone who’d just made meatballs, but Logan would be hard-pressed to find another time in his life when he felt this at peace with the world. At least, not in the life he could remember. “Sit, I’ll bring it over,” you instructed, removing a larger, metal spoon from the drawer, which he took off you the moment he could.

“Pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way ‘round, bub. You cooked,” he glanced pointedly to the seat you’d just gestured to. But clearly, you were, amongst many other things, incredibly stubborn. 

“Not sure how you worked that one out, you cooked too,” you folded your arms across your chest, setting your jaw. 

“Yeah, barely. Sit your ass down,” he pointed to the chair with the spoon in his hand, but you still refused, now leaning against the counter as if you could get any further away from the table. Logan sighed heavily, placing the spoon down again. “Didn’t wanna have to do this…” he muttered, and you didn’t have the chance to ask what he meant by this before his arms were around your waist and you were lifted effortlessly off the ground. 

All breath fled from your lungs. Your hands instantly fell to his shoulders, nails clinging on for dear life as he carried you to that godforsaken chair. His grip around your body tightened as you attempted to wriggle free from his arms, laughing breathlessly, exhilaration coursing through your body. Only, the moment he tried to set you down, you did a complete 180 and wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist.

“Let go,” his words were muffled against your neck as he bent almost double, and you leaned back until you were practically hovering above the chair.

“Seemed like a good idea a minute ago, huh?” You arched a cocky brow and were met with an expression mirroring your own. 

“So you gonna cling to me forever? That your genius plan?”

“If that's what it takes,” 

“Let go,” the way he said your name almost had you falling to the floor, your muscles suddenly growing weak. But you stayed strong, out of nothing but principal at this point. He wasn’t even holding you anymore, you were clinging on through sheer willpower alone. For the sake of being stubborn.

“You made this bed, now lie in it,” you responded haughtily, refusing to look into his irritated façade.

“That doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” he growled, and you fucking melted. That wasn’t fucking fair, and judging by the steadily growing smirk, he knew it. His hands gripped both your calves, successfully peeling you from his waist whilst you were distracted. You had no choice but to let your legs fall to the floor, catching yourself on the chair behind you, much to his triumphant grin. 

“You cheated!” you gaped, sitting cross-legged on the seat. Logan barely looked over his shoulder as he started spooning the sauce onto the two piles of pasta. All that over fucking spaghetti. And you didn’t even regret it a little.

“How’d I cheat?” he asked, though you were aware he knew full well how. And you were right. He did know. Of course he knew. He’d used that specific voice countless times before. Usually under very different circumstances. He just wanted to hear you say it. Hear you say how it affected you. 

But, true to form, you were stubborn.

“You’re stronger than I am,” you sighed, glaring heated daggers into the back of his head. You wanted to be petty, to stand up and take the spoon from him again, but in all honesty, you don’t think you’d survive another round of ‘sit on the fucking chair’.

Logan looked at you over his shoulder, his eyes swirling with knowing, and you stuck your tongue in your cheek and looked away, not giving him any satisfaction of confirming what he was thinking. You’d been so caught up in avoiding eye contact, that you almost jumped when he set the plate down in front of you, setting his own at the opposite place. At least he’d had the sense to realise the large portion was for him. Credit where credit was due, you guessed.

A comfortable silence blanketed the kitchen as he took a seat, two glasses of water in his hands, and you smiled a thank you. If you had your brother to thank for anything, it was teaching you how to cook. Well, it was many more things than that, but at this moment, it was cooking lessons. He didn’t want you going into the world with the culinary skills of a carrot. His words, not yours. 

You had a feeling Logan was a hard man to impress, so listening to his small grunt of appreciation was music to your ears. “Told ya I was a good chef,” you beamed after swallowing a mouthful and taking a large sip of water. 

Logan nodded in agreement. It wasn’t like he could disagree, the proof was right there, in front of him, in his fucking mouth for fuck’s sake. And the peace pesto from last night. Though he was glad his metabolism was fast. Pasta two days in a row can’t be good for anyone. “Never said you weren’t,” your expression fell from pride to scowling in seconds, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “You’re a fantastic chef.”

Your eyes narrowed as you searched for any hint of dishonesty, but you came up short. Though he said it as if to placate you, something told you he really meant it. You were just playing around, in all honesty, teasing in order to forget what just happened between you, and you’d gotten so much more than you bargained for. 

Much like the other night, you both fell into comfortable, mundane conversation, finding refuge in how fucking normal everything felt right now. You laughed and smiled as if the threat of disappearing into nothing didn’t constantly hang above your head, and he teased and joked as if the weight of his forgotten life didn’t constantly burden his shoulders. You could get used to this. Dangerously used to this. 

Logan was completely enamoured by you, once again finding himself encapsulated by the way you talk, from moments where you get really into whatever story you’re telling, to quieter moments when you let the conversation settle. If he was to die tomorrow, unlikely but worth entertaining from time to time, it was moments like these he was sure would flash through his mind. 

“What about you? I’ve talked your ear off about my life but you never talk about yours. Though, I guess there’s a lot to talk about,” you mused thoughtfully, twisting your fork through your spaghetti, or whatever was left of it. Logan grunted, shifting in his seat to lean against the back of the chair.

“It’s not a happy story,” he admitted quietly, buying himself some time by taking a long glass of water. Your gentle eyes found his, a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“I’m not looking for a fairytale. Just who you are,” you fought the urge to reach across the table and slip your hand into his. Though you didn’t want to push him to divulge anything, you just didn’t wanna feel like the whole conversation was one-sided. Sure, he would chime in with a few anecdotes but mainly it was just asking you questions. 

If he was being honest with himself, Logan wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you anything about his past. He knew you wouldn’t judge, clearly having seen a fair amount of bullshit yourself, and the fact that it simply wasn’t who you were. No, his problem lay with the fact that he didn’t want to dampen your spirit with his sob story of a past. How he only remembers through thrashing nightmares, waking up soaked in sweat, heart racing. You didn’t need to know any of that. 

“Alright… I–” he began before quite literally being saved by the bell. Logan looked at his watch, brows raising at how easily time had once again run away with the two of you. You blinked, looking around as if you could find the bell and ask it personally why it was going off so early before the echoing of ongoing conversation shattered the domestic delusion you’d both managed to trick yourselves into feeling.

“Another time,” you stood from the table, leaning over to grab his plate, but he swatted your hand away and instead took your own. 

“Never learn, do ya?” he asked with a slight smile, and you rolled your eyes. With a heavy, defeated sigh, you conceded, simply allowing him to take your plate to the sink. Stretching your arms high above your head, you popped your stiff shoulders, turning your head as two students you knew well entered the kitchen.

“You made meatballs?! No fair, I wanted some!” Jubilee whined, her books still clasped against her chest. Artie stuck out his forked tongue, much like a snake would taste the air around it before his curious face morphed into a frown. It seemed he too wouldn’t have minded meatballs. 

Logan looked over his shoulder at the two newcomers, his eyes darting between you and them, your guilt written all over your face.

“I’ll make them for you again sometime soon. We could have one of those big dinners we used to do, remember those?” you asked, your eyes alight with hope. Logan had heard of those. Apparently, you used to cook for the whole mansion, and the students would drag tables and chairs from all different rooms and have a huge feast together. Of course, he didn’t believe a word anybody said about it, since he was convinced you were a figment of everyone’s collective imagination, but now he knew you very much did exist, he could envision you dancing around the kitchen for hours on end, preparing dish after dish.

Jubilee’s face lit up at the suggestion, her hand hitting Artie’s arm excitedly. “Seriously? You mean that? We’ve missed doing that so much. Nobody cooks the way you do!” She bounced on her toes, before whirling and darting from the room, most likely to tell the rest of her friends. Artie lingered for a few seconds, clearly not knowing whether he wanted to stay or to race after Jubilee, before he too turned on his heel and ran after her. You chuckled softly, running a hand through your hair.

“What’ve I gotten myself into…?” you muttered, startling slightly as a hand rested on your shoulder. You looked up at Logan, unable to accurately decipher his expression. All you knew was that it was soft. Softer than you’d seen in the last day or so. 

“Were y’always this good with em? The kids?” he asked, and you huffed a laugh. You wished you could say yes, absolutely, you’d always been naturally gifted at looking after children. But that wasn’t the truth. 

“Fuck no. Used to hate kids, to be honest with you. Thought they were annoying as fuck when I first started,” you admitted slightly sheepishly. “But, they grew on me. Still not a fan of like, other kids, but any who come to this school? Love ‘em.” 

“Makes me wonder why they sent you ‘round America and not someone more suited.” his eyes glinted with mischief and you lightly elbowed his ribs.

“I can be incredibly persuasive.” 

“That so?”

“Mmmhm,” you nodded emphatically, stepping out of his range and immediately missing the warmth of his palm on your shoulder. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left it there until you moved away and hopped onto the table, your feet dangling slightly. He didn’t take his eyes off you, scanning your face as though he was considering you. You cocked a brow. “What?”

“Teach with me.”

You blinked. Well, you weren’t expecting that. “Come again?”

“Teach with me,” he repeated as confidently as he’d said it the first time. You scoffed a laugh. 

“What? Why?”

Logan shrugged. “You’re better with the kids than I am, and it would give you a good opportunity to develop your mutation in a combat setting.” And I get to spend more time with you.

You hesitated. “I– I don’t know, Logan. It’s… I don’t think it’s a good idea,” While you wanted nothing more than yet another excuse to be around him, you didn’t know if getting back into teaching was the right thing for you at the moment. Yeah, you missed it. Fuck, you missed it more than you thought you would, but you really meant it when you said you weren’t cut out for it. If only you weren’t the only person who thought so. 

“One class.” he bargained. “Help me with one class tomorrow and decide from there.”

You pursed your lips, and Logan could almost hear your internal debate. “You’re not gonna let it go til I do it, are you?”

“Probably not,” he smirked, knowing he’d just got you to agree. Your resulting sigh confirmed it. 

“Fine. One class. No more than that.” In all honesty, you would have agreed just to see his resulting smile. 

“We’ll see about that bub, class starts at one tomorrow.” 

You nodded once, nerves suddenly bubbling in your gut. You were going to teach again, after being out the game for the last two years. Fucking hell you wanted to throw up. But you took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. Maybe this was a good thing. A blessing in disguise. Sure, it had been a while, but maybe Logan was right. Maybe your mutation would only develop under times of stress. You were incredibly stressed today, and look what happened. 

“Alright, I’ll talk to Charles and Scott, see what they say,”

Logan huffed, clearly irate with the idea. “Don’t give a shit what Scott says. He couldn’t help you after almost two hours. I was there for two minutes and you made progress,” he huffed, and you couldn’t help but laugh slightly. Was he… was he jealous? No, that wasn’t possible. What would he have to be jealous about?

“Alright tough guy, rein it in. The way you helped out earlier, it wouldn’t surprise me if Charles is telling him you should be taking over my training,” you hadn’t even thought about it before you said it, but now it was out your mouth, you realised it was entirely plausible. Especially since anyone with eyes or ears could see how much better you got on with Logan than you did Scott. Logan suggested one approach and it worked like a charm.

“Ya think so?” Fuck was the hope in his voice as obvious to you as it was to him? The idea of helping you with your mutation, whilst slightly terrifying, excited him. He couldn’t help but think that would be a learning experience for both of you.

“Yeah, why not? Like you said, Scott couldn’t help after two hours,” you shrugged, hopping off the table. “Anyway, I’m in dire need of a shower and comfier clothing, so I’ll see you in a bit.” Logan almost cried at the thought of you no longer smelling like you do now, and he had half the mind to tell you to forget the shower, you smelt that fucking good. But he also didn’t want the reputation of the weird-smell guy, so instead of trapping you in his arms and begging you not to, he simply nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, see you later.” He grumbled, trying not to be obviously annoyed by the fact the time you’d spent together was coming to an end. You shot him a confused look, before disappearing out the door and up the stairs to your room. Logan stayed for a few more minutes, his eyes closed as he finally let himself get lost in your scent. He wanted you. Fuck he’d only known you for a day and he wanted you. How the hell was he supposed to just behave normally now you were back living here? It simply wasn’t possible. 

He groaned, running a hand down the side of his face. On the one hand, he really wanted to spend more time with you. He was actively looking forward to spending time with you. But on the other, he didn’t know how much longer he could behave himself. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep up this ‘friendly’ banter with you without it crossing the line. Had it already crossed the line?

Jesus Christ, he didn’t even know. He couldn’t help thinking this was likely about to get extremely messy if he didn’t get his shit together. But, at the same time…

He always liked a little mess.

Freshly showered, moisturised and pampered, you lay face up on your bed, your room feeling more like a forest than anything else. The steam from your shower still rolling out from your bathroom, and the more tropical plants you kept seemed to be absolutely thriving. You were thrilled, you really were, but you couldn’t take your mind off the day you’d just had. Not that it was over, it was only five in the afternoon, but so much had happened in the last day it was hard to wrap your head around.

You’d been replaced as a professor, your bedroom stolen, and you’d been informed that the mutation you thought you knew so well wasn’t actually what you thought it was at all, and that it could very well end you in seconds. You’d thrown a fit, broken your hand, dragged shadows toward you and constructed them into a pair of fucking awesome wings, and cooked with a man you’d known all of two minutes.

And the strangest fucking part was that you couldn’t get him off your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was honestly getting a little irritating, seeing his face every time you close your eyes, hearing his laugh when your room got a little too silent. Feeling the ghostly touches of his arms around your waist, his hands on your neck. His breath against your ear. 

You flapped your arms down on your bed in defiance. You would not lie in bed thinking about him all evening. You refused. And luckily, due to an unexpected visit, you didn’t have to.

“He likes you, ya know,”

You screamed, whipping your head back to your door where you saw Kitty strolling in, completely unphased by your reaction. Grabbing one of your pillows, you threw it at her approaching form, watching as it soared straight through her body. Your jaw flapped, completely speechless. “I– Wh– Kitty! You can’t just waltz in here unannounced! Scared me shitless!” you exclaimed, running a stressed hand through your hair.

“Why? I always used to. Been gone that long, huh?” she asked, plopping down on the end of your bed and crossing her legs. 

“Yeah… guess I have,” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for your accommodation to be broken into. The moment rumour got out there was a mutant staying a few streets over the road, you had to move. Sometimes you hadn’t been quick enough and had spent the rest of the evening frantically scrubbing blood from beneath your fingernails, before making a quick exit.

Those were the times on your travels nobody needed to know about. Those were the times you’d keep to yourself. 

You jumped again as your door burst open, a frantic Logan looking you up and down before his eyes darted around the room. “You alright? I heard screaming,” he panted, slightly breathless from clearly having sprinted up the stairs. 

Your heart grew five sizes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Kitty scared the shit out of me, ‘s’all,” you shrugged, too focused on him to notice the woman of the hour beaming wildly, looking between the two of you. 

His shoulders sagged, the man visibly relaxing, his eyes lingering on yours. “Okay…”

“Okay…” you repeated, unable to tame your disobedient smile as he almost awkwardly nodded his head. 

“Right. I’ll uh, yeah. Leave ya to it,” he clicked his tongue, sending you one last glance to make sure you were really okay, before closing the door. 

You sighed, shaking your head fondly, chuckling quietly to yourself. 

“Oh. My. God. You like him too!”

Looking up with unnatural speed, you scoffed, waving your hand dismissively. “The fuck are you talking about?” you asked a little too defensively.

“I’m talking about you and Logan. He clearly likes you, and now I can see that you like him too! Oh, this is so fucking cute, just wait until I tell Marie, she’ll go fucking crazy!” Kitty clapped her hands excitedly, and you had to catch one of her wrists in order to stop her. 

“What are you on about? Logan doesn’t like me, we’re just friends,” oh, was it supposed to hurt that much to say it? But, in all honesty, you don’t think you were ready to confront whatever it was you felt for this man. For now, you were pretty content to bask in not knowing, and being kind of excited about it.

“Mhm? Friends don’t eye fuck in the kitchen.”

You choked. Her tone was so matter-of-fact that if you weren’t actually looking at her, you wouldn’t have believed you were talking to Shadowcat herself, Kitty Pryde. “Kitty! Christ, what happened to you? And we weren’t eye fucking. I was hungry and refused to cook insta-noodles, so we actually made a meal.” You explained. 

“For almost four hours? Meatballs take twenty minutes, twenty-five at a push,”

“We lost track of time!”

“I repeat, for four hours?” she asked again, folding her arms and raising one of her thin brows. You pursed your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else incriminating. “Though as much,”

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

“You didn’t need to, it’s written over your lovestruck face.” She poked her finger toward your nose, and all you could think about was the way Logan flicked your forehead beforehand or the way Logan gave you that little push back in the training room. Or the way Logan–

Christ on a fucking boat when would it end?

“I’m not lovestruck,” you mumbled, dragging your knees up to your chest. You debated telling Kitty about your predicament with your mutation, for the sole reason of explaining why you and Logan were spending so much time together recently, but you didn’t think you could bear the look on her face. The only ones who knew, to your understanding, were Scott, as the leader of the team, Jean, as the leading scientist, Charles for obvious reasons, and Logan because you told him. You didn’t really want another person to know your problems, especially not Kitty. 

You couldn’t bear to see her face when you told her you weren’t a phaser anymore. The mere thought broke your heart. You had matching mugs and everything. You couldn’t do that to her. Let alone sharing the idea that your mutation could simply not allow you to return back to the corporeal world one day, and you’d be stuck as nothing but wondering consciousness in the shadows for, effectively, all eternity. That was a little too morbid to talk about even with Logan.

“He’s just… helping me get back into the swing of things. I haven’t been a teacher for a long time, Kit, and since he took my position, he’s offered to help me–”

“Get back into teaching! Oh my god, he has, hasn’t he? That’s so exciting! I thought you didn’t want to get back into it?” She asked, untucking her legs and swinging them around so she was now lying comfortably on your bed, her head propped up on her elbow. 

“Well, we’re not getting ahead of ourselves, but yeah, that’s the idea. Gonna help him with his class tomorrow…” you trailed off, your heart beginning to accelerate at the thought of teaching your first class in two years. “So yeah, that’s why we’ve been spending so much time together. It’s nothing serious, promise! Plus, since most of the new students are kids I found, he’s pretty much the only person I don’t know here.” You flopped back down onto your bed, angling your head so you could still see her.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, a moment to let the conversation settle and for your heart to slow a little, before Kitty spoke up again. “He was really excited to meet you,” she offered quietly, and your brows raised subconsciously. “Everytime someone started talking about you, he’d tune in. He was subtle, but Marie noticed it first, and she told me to look out for it. He was looking forward to meeting you for the best part of a year.”

You took a deep breath. That couldn’t possibly be true. “You’re good at seeing things that aren’t there, Kit. I love you for it, but sometimes things really aren’t that deep,” you explained softly, trying your hardest not to smile at the image of Logan only tuning into the conversation if it was about you. It was definitely a stretch of the imagination, but it was a pleasant one.

“Yeah yeah, you watch. I’ll be keeping an eye on your totally platonic relationship with Professor Howlett but mark my words, you’ll be together by the end of the month,” Kitty smacked your calf to emphasise her point, and you shook your leg threateningly, laughing at the notion. 

“I cannot wait to see you eat your words. I’m sure they’ll taste of falsehoods and regret.” You flashed her a toothy grin, and she stuck her tongue out in retaliation. You’d missed moments like these. In all honesty, you hadn’t realised how lonely the last two years had been. Hadn’t realised how starved of friendship you’d been until you found yourself talking and laughing amongst friends again. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed this place until you came home again, to both the old friends, and the new. 

[helen-with-an-a]

would you consider a part 2 to be the best?

maybe everyone realises reader making an effort and she starts to get closer at team bonding nights etc. then gets angry and thinks everyone will go back to hating her but happy ending

Hiiii - so I hope you enjoy this - I might make another part, I might not - I'm not quite sure

Be The Best part 3

AWFC x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Description: R joins the team on a trip to the cinema

Word Count: 4.4k

Deciding what to wear – it seemed like such a simple task, yet it was the one thing consuming your thoughts. It was more than just picking an outfit; it felt like the key to unlocking your entire evening. If you could just figure out what to wear, then maybe everything else would follow. The outfit could set the tone, give you confidence, and make you feel ready to face whatever was coming your way. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself, over and over, as if the right choice of clothes could somehow solve all your other problems too. The pressure to get it right was overwhelming, as if choosing the perfect outfit would magically make everything else fall into place.

But it wasn’t even a special occasion – it was just the cinema. A casual, relaxed outing, nothing crazy, nothing formal. Just the cinema. You were going to watch a movie, sit in the dark for a couple of hours, and maybe grab a snack or two. No big deal. It wasn’t like you were going to a fancy dinner or an important meeting. Just the cinema.

And yet, it wasn’t just the cinema. It was the cinema with your friends, work colleagues, people you have definitely bullied at times. You knew you had to strike a delicate balance – casual, but not too casual; relaxed, but still put together. It wasn’t simply about the clothes. It was about perception, about how the others would see you and what they would think. Every choice seemed to carry a weight that extended far beyond fabric and fashion. Would they notice if you were too dressed up, standing out like you were trying too hard? Or would they judge you if you were too laid-back, as if you didn’t care at all?

For most people, it was just a routine outing, something they had done countless times. But for you, it was uncharted territory, an experience you’d only heard about or seen in movies themselves. The idea of sitting in a dark theatre, surrounded by others, watching a story unfold on a massive screen – this was completely new. You didn’t know the unspoken rules, the social cues that everyone else seemed to take for granted. How were you supposed to act? What was the right amount of enthusiasm or restraint?

And what about conversation? That was another minefield altogether. You knew the basic rule: no talking during the film. That part seemed straightforward enough. But what about before the film started, when everyone was finding their seats, shuffling in with popcorn and drinks? Was there a right way to initiate small talk in those brief moments of dimmed lights and hushed voices? Should you comment on the previews, ask about their day, or maybe even crack a light joke to ease any tension? Or would it be better to keep it simple, just a casual greeting before settling into the silence? The uncertainty gnawed at you, making it difficult to predict how you should approach those moments.

And then there was the aftermath, the part that seemed the most daunting of all. What would you talk about after the film ended? How do people usually transition from the intensity of the movie back to regular conversation? Should you start with your thoughts on the film, maybe offer an opinion or ask for theirs? But what if your opinions didn’t match? What if you missed a key detail, or your interpretation was off? Would you come across as clueless or out of touch? You didn’t want to be the one who misread the mood, who either overanalysed every scene or brushed off the film too casually.

What if they didn’t want to talk to you? That fear was the heaviest of all, lurking in the back of your mind and casting a shadow over everything else. Leah had promised that you were welcome to attend the team bonding event, insisting that it would be a good opportunity to relax and connect away from the pressures of the football field. But did they really want you there? Was her invitation genuinely extended on behalf of the entire team, or was it just a polite gesture, something she felt obligated to offer? The thought gnawed at you, making you second-guess every detail of the evening.

You had been so mean to them for so long – too long, really. Screaming had been your only form of communication, your voice always raised, always harsh, leaving no room for warmth or understanding. It was as if yelling was the only way you knew how to convey your thoughts, your frustrations, your demands.

Images of Kyra’s terrified eyes flashed across your mind, haunting you in those quiet moments when the noise of the day had finally died down. You remembered the way she would flinch whenever you called her name, her eyes wide and fearful, as if bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught. It wasn’t just once or twice – no, those moments were all too frequent, etched into the fabric of your daily routine. You could almost hear the echo of your own voice, sharp and cutting, as you berated her for the smallest mistakes, things that now seemed so insignificant in hindsight.

You had changed four times already, each outfit a different attempt to strike the right balance, to somehow capture the perfect blend of casual yet polished, approachable yet confident. Each time you thought you’d found the right look, doubt crept in, nagging at the edges of your mind until you found yourself back at the mirror, scrutinising every detail. First, it was joggers and T-shirt – too casual, you decided, too close to something you’d wear lounging around the house, not quite right for an evening where you wanted to make a better impression. Then came the one dress you owned – simple, comfortable, but suddenly it felt too much, as if you were trying too hard, the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tried again, opting for a more relaxed outfit, a sweater and a pair of tailored pants, thinking this might strike the right chord. But as you stood there, looking at yourself, the reflection staring back seemed off, like you were wearing someone else’s clothes. You looked like you were going into a business meeting. It didn’t feel like you, or at least not the version of yourself you wanted to present tonight. So you changed again, this time into something more middle-ground, some baggy jeans and a top. But even then, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right.

As you stood there in front of the mirror, surrounded by discarded outfits strewn across the bed, you wondered if maybe the clothes weren’t the real issue. Maybe it was the fact that no matter what you wore, you couldn’t escape the history you carried with you, the reputation you had built, and the uncertainty of whether any outfit could really make a difference in how you were perceived.

Your phone buzzed on the desk, the familiar vibration cutting through the thick fog of your thoughts. The sound startled you, pulling you out of the endless loop of doubt and second-guessing that had been consuming your mind for what felt like hours. You glanced over and saw the screen light up with your alarm, its insistent tone a stark reminder that time had finally run out. There was no more room for deliberation, no more opportunity to agonise over every detail.

It took you longer than expected to get to the cinema, your nerves slowing you down at every turn. The streets seemed unfamiliar, the route winding through a part of town that you rarely ventured into. As you navigated through the maze of side roads and intersections, you couldn't help but notice how different this area felt from your usual haunts. It was quieter, more residential, with an air of nostalgia that hung in the evening breeze. The buildings here had a certain charm, with their old-fashioned storefronts and quaint cafés, each one exuding a sense of history that made you feel like you had stepped back in time.

When you finally arrived at the cinema, it wasn’t what you had expected. You had envisioned something sleek and modern, a polished building with neon lights and a buzzing crowd. Instead, you found yourself standing in front of a place that felt like a hidden gem, tucked away from the busier parts of the city. The cinema was smaller, more intimate, and as you approached, you were struck by its unexpected charm. The exterior was unassuming, with a classic marquee that displayed the film titles in black letters against a white backdrop, the lights around it softly glowing in the dimming light.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and inviting, a far cry from the sterile, impersonal theatre you had walked past as a kid. It was cute – more retro than you had anticipated, with an ambiance that immediately put you at ease. The plush blue seats lined the aisles, each one a deep, rich shade that contrasted beautifully with the cream-colored walls. The seats looked like they had been carefully maintained, their upholstery soft and welcoming, as if they had been chosen for comfort rather than just practicality. The walls, with their creamy tones, added to the sense of warmth, their subtle detailing suggesting a bygone era when cinemas were more than just places to watch a film – they were places to experience something special.

"Hey, I'm glad you could make it," Kim said softly when she saw you arrive, her voice warm and welcoming. There was something genuine in her tone, a sincerity that caught you slightly off guard. It was as if she truly meant it, as if your presence was something she had been hoping for rather than just politely acknowledging. Her smile was gentle, her eyes reflecting a kindness that made you pause for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

You had been so wrapped up in your own anxieties, so convinced that your arrival would be met with indifference – or worse, thinly veiled discomfort – that her friendly greeting threw you off balance. For a split second, you hesitated, searching for the right words, something casual and appropriate to say in return. But nothing came out. Instead, you grimaced awkwardly back at her, your lips twisting into a half-hearted smile that you knew looked forced.

It was as though your body had betrayed you, refusing to cooperate in this moment of unexpected kindness. You could feel the tension in your shoulders, the way your jaw tightened as you struggled to mirror the warmth in Kim’s voice with an expression that didn’t come naturally to you. Inside, you were cringing at your own inability to respond with the same ease, the same natural friendliness that Kim seemed to embody so effortlessly.

Your grimace felt clumsy, a stark contrast to her welcoming demeanour. It was as if all the insecurities you had been trying to suppress suddenly bubbled up to the surface, making it impossible to relax and just be in the moment. You worried that Kim could see through your awkwardness, that she might pick up on the discomfort you were trying so hard to mask. Would she interpret it as reluctance? As a sign that you didn't really want to be there? The thought made your stomach twist, amplifying the awkwardness of the situation.

But Kim, ever gracious, didn’t let it faze her. She continued to smile, her eyes softening with understanding, as if she sensed your unease but chose not to dwell on it. Her kindness was unwavering, a quiet reassurance that perhaps, despite your own self-doubt, you were more welcome than you realised. “I think you’re the last one to arrive.”

“Sorry, it took longer than I thought to get here,” you said, your voice tinged with an apologetic edge as you finally caught up with Kim. You tried to sound casual, but the nerves were evident in the way you fumbled with your words. Your gaze flickered around the room, searching for something to latch onto to avoid the awkwardness of the moment.

“No worries,” Kim replied with a reassuring smile, her tone light and understanding. “Was there much traffic?”

“Uh, no,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. You cleared your throat, trying to steady your nerves. “I mean, there wasn’t much traffic. I just – I've, I’ve just not been here before, so …” You trailed off, the words sputtering out like a car sputtering to a halt. The sentence hung in the air, unfinished and awkward.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. It wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the location that threw you off; it was the whole social aspect of the evening that felt out of place.

“Hey, you came!” Leah shouted from across the lobby, her voice ringing out with a burst of enthusiasm that cut through the low murmur of conversation. The suddenness of her greeting was a relief, taking the spotlight off Kim and saving her from having to respond to your earlier, awkward attempt at small talk. Leah’s energy seemed to fill the space, her bright smile and warm manner making it clear that she was genuinely pleased to see you.

“Hi,” you whispered back, the word barely escaping your lips as you struggled to match her enthusiasm with your own shaky confidence. You felt a pang of awkwardness, compounded by the realisation that you were still adjusting to the surroundings

Leah, unfazed by your quiet response, continued with her upbeat tone. “Do you want to grab some snacks before you go in?”

Snacks? The word hit you like a revelation. You had always thought of the cinema as a place where people just sat in darkened rooms and watched movies, perhaps grabbing a quick drink from a vending machine if they were really desperate. But the idea of having snacks felt almost revolutionary. The concept of indulging in something edible during a film was so foreign to you that you blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard.

You looked around, taking in the lobby’s setup with new eyes. It was bustling with people moving toward a counter where a variety of snacks were displayed. The counter was an array of tempting options: large tubs of buttery popcorn and colourful sweets. The whole scene seemed like an elaborate concession to comfort, something you had never considered part of the cinema experience before.

Alessia, who had joined Leah in welcoming you, turned to you with a warm smile. “What’s your go-to?” she asked, her tone inviting and friendly. Her curiosity seemed genuine, and it made you feel a bit more at ease.

You hesitated, glancing at the array of snacks before you, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your uncertainty evident. The variety of choices seemed almost overwhelming, and you weren’t sure where to start.

Alessia laughed lightly, a sound that was both comforting and disarming. “Ah, a ‘see how you feel’ kind of person,” she said, nodding knowingly as if she understood your approach. Her laughter and casual attitude made it clear that she wasn’t judging you, but rather finding your indecision endearing.

“Um, no,” you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed as you tried to explain. “I’ve not been to the cinema before.” The admission felt awkward, and you braced yourself for whatever reaction might follow.

Alessia stared at you, her eyes widening in shock. “What do you mean?” she asked, disbelief evident in her voice. “Surely you went growing up? I know we don’t have much time now, but still.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of your admission feeling heavier under Alessia’s surprised gaze. “Uh, no. My, uh, my dad said it was a waste of time,” you said, your voice trailing off. The memory of your father’s dismissive attitude made you feel vulnerable, as if you were exposing a part of your past that was uncomfortable to revisit.

Alessia’s surprise was palpable, her mouth forming a small “O” as she processed what you had just revealed. Her eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the information. It was as if the notion of someone never having been to the cinema before was a concept so foreign that it took her a moment to fully grasp it. Her reaction was a blend of shock and genuine curiosity, making you feel even more self-conscious.

You could feel your face flush with embarrassment as you watched her reaction unfold. The realisation that you had just divulged a personal detail about your upbringing – a detail that seemed to have left such an impact on Alessia – made you mentally kick yourself. Why couldn’t you have just gone along with her question, given a generic answer, and avoided this awkward revelation altogether?

As Alessia’s initial shock gave way to a more empathetic expression, you mentally berated yourself for not just playing along. She could almost hear the internal dialogue in your head: “Why did I have to be so honest? Why couldn’t I just say I like popcorn or candy and leave it at that?” You bit your lip, hard, gasping slightly at the familiar pain.

But as you watched Alessia’s expression soften into one of understanding, you also noticed the subtle shift in her stance. She seemed genuinely concerned and determined to make sure you felt comfortable. Her initial shock had transformed into a compassionate response, as if she was now more committed than ever to ensuring that your first cinema experience was enjoyable and welcoming.

“Well, usually I go for some popcorn,” Alessia said with a casual shrug, her tone easy and conversational. “But I decided on Pick ‘n’ Mix today.” She paused, as if considering the options and her own choice. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief and excitement, reflecting a genuine enthusiasm for the variety of treats on offer. “If you get some popcorn, we could share?” she suggested, her offer smooth and natural, as though it were the most effortless thing in the world.

“Y-you want to share?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The shock in your tone was palpable, your words tinged with disbelief. The notion that Alessia, someone who had been so kind and welcoming, would offer to share something as simple as popcorn with you felt almost surreal. The gesture seemed magnified by your own insecurities and the weight of your past interactions with her

.

You stood there, momentarily taken aback, struggling to reconcile Alessia’s warmth with the harshness you remembered from your own behaviour. It was as if her kindness had momentarily suspended reality, making you question whether you deserved such a generous offer. You had been so accustomed to keeping others at a distance, to reacting defensively or with hostility, that the idea of someone reaching out to you with genuine friendliness felt foreign and unexpected.

“Of course, come on, let’s get some popcorn,” Alessia said, her smile broadening into a welcoming expression that seemed to dispel any lingering awkwardness. Her enthusiasm was infectious, a burst of positive energy that made you feel more at ease despite your earlier reservations.

Without missing a beat, she reached out and gently grabbed your elbow, her touch both firm and reassuring.

The film wasn’t necessarily your choice, but as it played out on the screen, you found yourself increasingly engrossed. You never really had time for films – growing up, your father had made you watch old matches and now, as an adult, you did the same. There was something about the action, the romance, the unexpected twist at the end that drew you in and kept you close.

Sitting wedged in between Alessia and Leah wasn’t too bad either. In fact, it turned out to be one of the more pleasant surprises of the evening. Alessia, seated to your right, had a laugh that was genuinely infectious. Each time something amusing or surprising happened on the screen, her laughter would bubble up – a warm, genuine sound that was impossible not to be affected by. It was the kind of laugh that seemed to fill the room with a sense of shared joy, creating a subtle but tangible bond between you and the rest of the audience. Her enthusiasm was both comforting and uplifting, making the film experience feel even more enjoyable.

Leah, on your left, contributed to the cozy atmosphere with her own unique presence. She kept up a quiet commentary throughout the film, her murmurs barely audible but filled with insightful observations and humorous remarks. Her comments were like little nuggets of insight, offering a fresh perspective on the film's twists and turns. You had expected that her talking might become distracting or irritating, but instead, it had the opposite effect. Leah’s commentary felt like a private conversation that added another layer to your viewing experience, one that was both engaging and endearing.

Rather than finding Leah's remarks bothersome, you found yourself appreciating them. Her thoughtful, almost reverent musings about the film’s plot and characters added depth to your own viewing experience. It was as though she was sharing a part of her own enthusiasm and understanding with you, making the film feel more interactive and immersive. Each comment was delivered with a subtlety that ensured it didn't disrupt your enjoyment, but rather complemented it, adding an extra dimension to your engagement with the story.

The combination of Alessia’s lively, infectious laughter and Leah’s quiet, reflective commentary created a perfect balance that made sitting between them a surprisingly enjoyable experience. It turned out to be a blend of energy and insight that enhanced the film’s appeal, making the whole experience feel more communal and enjoyable.

“Oh, my god. That was so good!” Stina cheered as you all left the theater, her excitement practically radiating from her. Her blonde ponytail whipped from side to side with each enthusiastic hop down the steps, creating a lively and contagious energy that seemed to spread through the group. Stina’s reaction was a burst of pure, unfiltered enthusiasm, her voice ringing with genuine excitement about the film you had just seen.

Conversations about favourite scenes and surprising plot twists began to bubble up, each person eager to share their thoughts and opinions on the film. It was as if Stina’s initial reaction had unlocked a wave of shared enthusiasm that everyone was eager to join in on.

“Yeah, that twist at the end was incredible!” Steph chimed in, her voice laced with amazement. “I didn’t see that coming at all.” The sentiment was echoed by several others, their faces animated with excitement as they recounted their favourite moments. The film had clearly struck a chord with the group, and the sense of collective satisfaction was palpable. Had this been what you were missing out on every time you declined an invite?

Before you could get too far into your head, Kim came up behind you, her shoulder gently nudging yours in a friendly, almost reassuring manner. The touch was light but deliberate, a small gesture that drew you back from your swirling thoughts and into the present moment. Her presence was warm and grounding, a reminder that you were part of a group, and her approachable demeanor made it easier to transition from the excitement of the film to the next part of the evening.

“So, what did you think?” Kim asked, her voice filled with genuine interest. There was a subtle anticipation in her tone, an expectation that your opinion would contribute to the collective conversation.

“I liked the film. It was very good,” you responded, your voice steady but still tinged with the residual excitement from the movie. You were still processing the film’s impact and the lively discussion that had followed, and Kim’s question provided a moment to articulate your enjoyment. It felt good to share your positive reaction, to be part of the enthusiastic response that had characterised the group’s reactions.

Kim’s eyes brightened at your response, and she smiled with a hint of mischief. “Good enough to come to dinner with us?” she asked, her tone light and inviting.

You froze for a moment, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over you. Did Kim really want you to join them for dinner? The question seemed to echo in your mind, stirring up a flurry of anxious thoughts. The idea of continuing the evening with the group was both inviting and intimidating, and you couldn’t help but question whether you truly belonged in this social setting.

A twinge of apprehension gnawed at you as you considered the possibility of making a mistake. What if you inadvertently did something wrong or said something out of turn? The fear of misstepping or failing to live up to the group’s expectations loomed large. You imagined potential scenarios where your actions might not align with the group’s dynamics, leading to awkwardness or discomfort.

And what if you got angry with them again? What if you ruined the night? What if you did something wrong and they kicked you off the team? A tight knot of anxiety bubbled up in your chest, making it difficult to fully embrace the invitation. The prospect of making a good impression and avoiding past mistakes felt like a significant challenge. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that Kim’s invitation was a gesture of goodwill, a sign that your presence was valued and welcomed.

“Umm, yeah, yeah, I think so,” you said, your voice gaining confidence as you spoke. “If that’s ok with you?” The question was as much about seeking reassurance as it was about confirming your participation. It was a polite gesture, ensuring that your presence was welcome and that you weren’t imposing on the group’s plans.

Kim’s smile widened, and she gave you a reassuring nod. “Absolutely, it’s totally okay,” she said warmly. “We’d love to have you join us. It’s just a casual dinner, nothing too formal. We’re all going to this great place nearby – should be a lot of fun!”

[loveemagicpeace]

🍸Saturn in Houses🍸

A lot of people ask me about Saturn in houses so I decided to make a new series about Saturn in houses in general.

☕️Most important thing about Saturn is that Saturn represent time , age ,reward , growth but in some kind of different way than Jupiter. Also represents your way of coping with life,things that you are more serious about and more responsible with. It also represents holidays. The planet is known for its reality and practicality, but also for its tendency to excessive strictness. His expectations may be too high. A strong Saturn in chart can indicate that we want to control everything in our life to the point that we consider ourselves a failure if we fail to reach the goals we have set for ourselves. However, Saturn provides the desire for we develop the areas in which we feel weak and this weakness can therefore become our greatest virtue. Strong Saturn connection between two charts in relationship (especially if saturn is in aspect with the moon or the sun) indicates a serious long-term commitment that can last forever (whether we like it or not). Saturn can also be cruel sometimes because it is the planet of hard reality but it also the planet that help us the most to achieve something much more greater than that.

🫧Saturn in 1st house- in your early age you can have problems with yourself image ,with your appearance ,confidence & energy. It can also be hard for you to express yourself. With Saturn here you can feel weak sometimes. You can feel like you don't have that much power that other people do have or you can feel like you are not good enough. Many people may underestimate you. Many times you can give off a very different energy than it really is (especially when people meet you for the first time). You are a more closed person and you only give energy to those who deserve it.

✨Saturn in 2nd house- maybe it's hard for you to find your value or set boundaries for yourself. You have very strong and serious approach to money you will never buy something that it's like I don't know some random thing. Also a lot of people think that you cannot work with money or things related to money maybe people don't trust you with that but this is all because they don't really know how smart you actually are. Low self-esteem is a characteristic trait of this placement in astrology. Self-confidence doesn’t come easy to you, though.

⭐️Saturn in 3rd house- many people underestimate your thinking, expression, intelligence. U can usually get insecure about the way you speak or the way you say some things. I think the fear in this house is that you are afraid that you will say something wrong. You have to be confident in whatever thing you say and you should say confidently because you are intelligent ,you're smart. You can also be a good writer & speaker. Many people can pass their driving test late, but that's exactly why they drive much better than others. You can get along better with your siblings later in life. You are capable of seeing things in depth.

🎧Saturn in 4th house- you can have a lot of rules in your early years. You grow up with rules at home that you can stick to. Your parents are more strict with you and allow you to do certain things later. I just feel like that parents will buy you a phone later in life or something. People usually come from a family where they weren’t emotionally nourished. But it's not always like that because when it comes to family the Moon is great indicator for how you feel at home and how you vibe at home. So saturn doesn't mean that your family cannot be good. You can also be the person who grows the fastest in the family.

❄️Saturn in 5th house- dating life can be very serious topic for you. You cannot date people with whom you don't feel that you can have committed relationships with. Saturn brings a strong desire for fame, recognition, and success but may result in delays and disappointments in love life and artistic creations. U can also struggle to find love. You can also have very high standards when it comes to love because 5th house represent dating ,represent meeting people and flirting and falling in love so usually people who have Saturn in 5th house are very serious when it comes to that. In some cases, your partners are older than you. Often, your love life significantly improves after the age of thirty. Your best relationships will probably come later in life. As you become more carefree and spontaneous, you become more attractive to others.

🍃Saturn in 6th house- you can have a lot of struggles in the work. You feel that working is just anxiety for you or when you work, people are just rude or mean to you. You are always in the shadow at work. People find you like you are not good enough or you don't do the job good enough. You can also stress a lot about your health and you can also be obsessed with being in the some kind of routine or having some lifestyle. Being healthy all the time.

🐚Saturn in 7th house- there can be issues with your relationships. You can have relationships in your early years or you don’t have for a long time. You usually have many karmic relationships from which you can learn a lot. Saturn helps you to choose the right person for yourself and to be happy in the end. You are a person who is serious when it comes to a relationship (when you find a person, then that person is the one and only for you), you hate cheating, and when you decide to leave then you leave. Saturn can also bring a sense of responsibility and duty to relationships. The individual may take their relationships seriously and work hard to maintain them.

☁️Saturn in 8th house- there can be a lot of family secrets that family kept from you. People with Saturn in this house usually feel very lonely or alone in their soul. They have this mindset that you are all alone in this world. You are aware of the hard truth in life that people don't. You can fear the death of loved ones. If you overcome the challenges of your Saturn in the eighth house, you will be able to understand people very well. You can develop a talent to see into the soul. Saturn here gives you a deep understanding of life, death, crisis, transformation, and sometimes a talent for healing.

⚡️Saturn in 9th house- Saturn gives you a deeper view of the world in which you live. Saturn in ninth house people have very strict moral code. This placement indicated a religious person, someone who either follows the set rules or makes their own views. You meet new people and experience new activities that make you see the world from a new perspective. You can also meet a lot of people that change your perspective and your mindset. But there can also be a deep fear of new views. Maybe you don't feel like you're not smart enough or that you're not educated enough.

🖤Saturn in 10th house- You usually go over many obstacles to finally achieve what you really want. Many people have problems with whether they will ever be successful or achieve it. But in the end, they achieve even more. Many times people don't believe in you and see you as a person who will never be that successful and then you surprise them all. You can learn a lot from your father and your father can be your role model or a person who helps you through life. The best advice will give you your father.

🫐Saturn in 11th house-you can have a lot of karmic friendships and you can change a lot of friends in your life. Every friend that you have is the friend that you have to learn something from them. Your hopes and wishes are another important life area associated with this house. It shows everything that comes into your life and how your dreams can come true. Saturn in eleventh house suggests that you are quiet and reserved when in a group. Sometimes you feel invisible: it feels like no one hears you out in a group. In this lifetime, you have to learn how to have a healthy relationship with groups and how to behave in your social circle.

🥃Saturn in 12th house- The individual may experience a strong sense of responsibility towards charitable or behind-the-scenes work. Sometimes you don’t let even those the closest to you to see your weaknesses. As a child, you had to learn to hide your feelings, especially the negative ones. You absorb all the energies around you, and if you are surrounded by negativity, it can affect you badly. It can happen that you have a job that requires you to be isolated in some way. Maybe you work in a hospital or prison. You are often unaware of the reason why you are in pain. If you have planets in the twelfth house, you can benefit a lot from psychotherapy. But when you have Saturn return you can benefit a lot from it and you can become very spiritual opened and you can have a lot of blessings.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

✨Ig-bekylibra✨

-Rebekah📀💘☁️