#flock to me my darlings

[stars-and-suns-and-boobs]

💗Im hot and ready for you 🙂‍↔️

[blindmagdalena]

I wish i had your power to get so many anons and messages. It was always one of my biggest hopes as a fic writer but ppl just kind of ask for requests and don’t talk to me 😭 is it fun to discuss stuff with all your anons and read them or is it annoying or weird for you?

ohhh beloved, i’m sorry. it’s rough feeling like you only exist to fill requests. when i was first starting out, i liked reblogging those ask games to encourage engagement. sometimes people aren’t sure if they should be sending random messages if there isn’t already a precedent for it.

your question is actually pretty telling of this fact. a lot of people are just scared of being annoying! but no, i’m not annoyed or weirded out by it. i very sincerely appreciate that people wanna let me be a yapper on my blog all day lol i’m just terribly sorry for those that don’t get answered. it’s never been for lack of wanting to. 🖤

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats

Aegon ii Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

“I can’t be ‘Aegon the Magnanimous.’ No one knows what Magnanimous means.” Aegon drawls, slumped over in his throne. The hour is late and there are many places he’d rather be. Namely with his beloved wife, who he’s scarcely seen, since taking on his duties. Their children will already be asleep, but if they wrap things up here soon, he may have a few moments with Y/N before bed.

“Aegon the dragon cock.” One of the piss drunk men raises his cup to the king.

“That’s more like it,” Aegon claps his hands together.

The men hoot and holler at the name. Dissolving into laughter.

“Speaking of,” Aegon rises to his feet, “I must get back to my wife. I did not wed her to admire from afar.” Aegon tosses back the remainder of his wine, throwing his gauntlet down beside the throne. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

He wastes no time, taking the stairs two at a time up to his chambers. His queen is already abed, waiting up for him with a bit of light reading. “What story is that now, my dearest love?” Aegon asks, pulling off his boots.

“It’s a book about the plague.” Y/N bends it open at the spine, setting the bound pages on the bedside table.

“Seems a bit morbid.” Aegon frowns, “especially in these times, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do you have something better in mind, your grace?”

Aegon doesn’t miss the bitterness in her voice. “You are my equal, here of all places. Don’t do this to me, please. Do not ice me out, I cannot bear it.”

Y/N sighs, crossing both arms over her chest. “Helaena is frightened of the rats. I’ve been looking into their behaviors and customs.”

Aegon flops onto the mattress, unceremoniously. “The rats?”

Y/N nods, “to be honest, I’m not particularly fond of them either. Although, they are interesting.”

“No vermin shall touch you so long as I live, darling girl. The only thing nibbling your toes will be me.” He wiggles his foot against hers for emphasis.

Y/N huffs a laugh. Allowing the silence between them to hang heavy.

“I am sorry about your brother.” Aegon says, despite ordering his own brother, Aemond, away at the news and holding her through sobs, he’s yet to say the words. “I cannot stand your suffering. It’s made it nearly impossible to be away from you to perform my duties.”

Y/N brings his hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles.

“I want you to attend the petitions,” he decides. “At my side, in my lap, seated directly on my cock; whatever suits you.”

“Directly on your cock?” Y/N chortles, “your mother would have my head.”

“She will do no such thing, you are queen. You may do as you wish.”

“You spoil me,” that’s what everyone says anyway.

“You’re mine to spoil. They’re jealous is all.”

“Shall we practice then? For the hearings?”

“If you wish.” Aegon rolls onto his back, sliding both arms behind his head.

Y/N grins, devilishly as she slides off his clothes, allowing his cock to spring free. Her own nightgown and small clothes follow before she swings a leg over his hips and slides down his length.

“Seven hells,” Aegon groans.

His wife leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“A tenth of my flock has been taken, your grace.” Aegon tells her, repeating one of the smallfolk’s concerns.

“Your what?” Y/N blinks at him.

“Sheep,” he continues, “a tenth of them gone, taken by your guard, just before winter. What say you, my queen?”

“Give them back.” Y/N sighs as his hands finally land on her hips, guiding her movements.

“That’s what I said,” Aegon hums, thrusting up to meet her.

“Did they listen?”

“No.” Aegon purses his lips, “they might need them to feed the dragons.”

“It’s much harder to concentrate this way, my king.”

“I know,” he coos, “but you’re doing so well.”

“The dragons,” Y/N pants, “have never required sheep from the smallfolk before.”

“We have never been to war.” Aegon says, through gritted teeth as she clenches around him.

“My mother will want revenge for Lucerys.”

“And I want this matter resolved peacefully.” Aegon assures her, “still I cannot give my brother up for the slaughter.”

“I don’t see how this can end peacefully now,” Y/N laments, feeling the coil in her belly tighten. “It will end in fire and blood.”

“What would you have me do?”

Y/N shakes her head, “We must stop Aemond from claiming Harrenhal at the least.”

“Consider it done.” Aegon beckons her down for a kiss.

The clatter of metal against the floor breaks them apart, “what was that?” Y/N’s eyes search the room.

“Twas only the wind, my dearest love.” Aegon smiles up at his wife.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. “No. Something is wrong.”

“I agree,” Aegon takes her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it to a taut peak. “You stopped moving.”

“Aegon,” she warns, “please.”

“Shhh,” he gentles her back to a steady grind. “I’m here. You are safe.”

Y/N offers a shaky smile. Still something seems amiss, though she can’t think much more about it with Aegon’s free hand toying with her pearl.

“Cum on my cock, then we will look into it, if you feel so inclined.”

Y/N nods, bouncing faster, harder. Trying to ignore the worry twisting at her gut.

Aegon’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“More than anyone or anything, save for our children. I want you to remember that…always.”

Y/N nods, feeling herself teetering on the precipice. “I-” she wants to say it back, only her brain doesn’t seem to be working.

“Hush, sweetheart.” Aegon groans, because he knows. Rubbing his fingers harshly against her pearl to push her over the edge. Shaking and crying her release as she milks his cock. “Good girl.” Aegon fills her pulsing cunt with his spend.

She leans toward her husband, capturing his lips as they ride out their high. Once she has caught her breath Y/N rolls away, off of the bed, shuffling back into her nightgown.

Aegon follows her lead, redressing in his tunic and trousers. “Head to the children’s room, wait for me there. I’ll have the guards help me search the floor for any sign of…rats.”

Y/N wrings her hands, knowing how silly it sounds. “Thank you, Aegon.”

He closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to her forehead and cheek. “You’re more than welcome.” He watches her leave the room before heading in the opposite direction. Where is everyone? The keep is never so quiet, even at night.

Y/N scampers down the hallway to the nursery, it takes a moment for her mind to make sense of the scene before her. Helaena with a knife held to her throat by a strange man. His counterpart hovering over the children’s beds with a blade at the ready.

“What are you doing?” Y/N breathes, clutching a hand to her chest.

The man holding Helaena shoves her aside.

Y/N catches the woman in her arms, smoothing down her white tresses. Helaena clings to her. “It’s ok.”

The children sleep better together, they always have. Besides the maids prefer Aegon and Y/N’s children close to Aemond and Helaena’s for practical reasons, until they are older.

“Which of them are yours?” The first man demands.

“All of them,” Y/N lies. “All of them are mine.”

“You have but four children,” Cheese insists. “Here lie six, tell me which are yours and I will spare them.”

“If I don’t tell you and you’re wrong, my mother will have your head.” Y/N clenches her jaw. “For all I know of our true queen, this was not her request. So who’s was it?”

“A son for a son, that’s what’s fair.” Blood insists.

“What did they offer you? Gold?” Y/N wonders, “I’ll double it if you leave now.”

The men look to each other, undecided.

“Or you could take me instead. I’m worth more to my mother than any bounty.” Rhaenyra’s eldest child offers.

————————————————————————-

Aegon completes his sweep of their chambers, along with the rest of the royal floor. Nothing is amiss. He moves to the children’s quarters and finds Helaena, curled up on the floor. “What’s happened?”

Helaena takes her brother’s outstretched hand. “They wanted to kill the boy.”

The boy? “My boy?”

Helaena shakes her head, “mine.”

Aegon looks to his nephew, still sleeping soundly. “Where is Y/N?”

“They took her instead.”

“Where the hell is Cole?” Aegon demands. “Where in the seven hells is anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Helaena sobs.

Part 2

[metranart]

Imagine Gojo, Geto and Nanami anointing you as their “little darling”, forced to share you because they refuse to NOT have you in their life. You didn’t expect this kind of attention, it was ridiculous the way they took the time to make you feel… loved.

It wasn’t just the occasional pampering or the intense lovemaking sessions that they took SO seriously. It was EVERYTHING! It was visceral and addictively cathartic the way, they worshipped you.

Sometimes they got competitive, Gojo pulling you away into a hidden space, only to turn you around, throwing his jacket to then pull you on top and line your pussy up perfectly with his needy cock before plunging forward with a solid gasp that followed a thousand moans and groans, he didn’t mind being loud, he prefers it that way. Let them know, he thinks, jealous vibes tainting his greedy thrusts.

“Am I not your favorite, baby? I know I am, you don’t have to pretend nor be quiet about it just to be nice to them… they’re not here, tell me how much you like me… I want you so bad… Do you want me?” Gojo is always the most talkative, sweetening your ear every second, all in hopes to get you so distracted that when he cums inside you don’t suspect that the rubbery sound from before was from candy wrapper and not a condom. He’s sneaky like that he has to be, when the competition for you is so damn fierce.

Unlike Geto who is smoother in his approach, whose large hands greedily grab your hips as he pulls you back down onto his cock with every thrust, and it feels so undeniably perfect that you can’t even hold yourself up, arms like jelly, strength failing as you’re face down on the sheets, ass in the air to be fucked like a proper bitch.

“Satoru can be so careless, you have marks all over your body, my love.” This man kisses and caresses you with such fervent devotion that your heart skips more than a couple of beats, “-tell me if you need a break, I won’t pull out, I CAN’T-” he sounds apologetic and so damn needy that you melt a little more for him, you love when he’s shamelessly possessive, “but I’ll slow down. Boy Scout word.” That playful, understanding smile always gracing his lips, eyes too soft and warm only when he sees you. “It doesn’t bother me if I’m not your favorite, it just bothers me that you don’t know that you’re mine.” Geto is like balm, that quiet adoration is more addictive than cocaine... Geto is smart, he knows Satoru too well to know what he’s on to, but…. It is of no use to brand your body from the inside, if he does not first have your heart beating just for him. Geto is so damn, smooth.

But it's Nanami who surprised you the most, he was the calm one, the serious and stoic sheep in the flock, yet, in private and ONLY with you, heat and hormones cloud his mind, you cloud his mind and his better judgment as you moan shamelessly, wanting more and more as he fucks you good and hard before there's a hand sneaking under your belly, a thick finger begging to rub circles on your clit.

"Nanami-!! Oh GOD!" He knows how to get you vulnerable and needy, he wants to tattoo those sensation in your brain, for you to associate them with him, just him. Moans escape you, heat building as his hand plays with your sensitive nub relentlessly, sliding it, rolling it, even pinching it to elicit more lewd cries of pleasure.

"Sorry for being so damn needy, baby, but I don’t know how to hold back-… if I’m honest- I don’t want to find out how- …" He always is honest, too blunt and honest, full of a secret mischief and roughness, his original plan was to make you beg for him not the other way around, he was weak, you made him weak and he loooooooved it! 

"You want nothing more than to cum…. for me to make you cum, I can tell that goal isn't far away... fuck!" His hips quicken the pace, as he holds you down, pinned against the surface he’s thrust you into. “Your legs are starting to buckle and shake with each of my thrusts." This blond is relentless and dominant, he’ll let his body do the convincing for him. "Do you love when I hold you down, fuck!... you do, huh?” This side of Nanami is secret, dark, and so ‘eyes rolled to the back of your skull’ satisfying, that has secretly become one of your favorites.

The anthem in this polyamorous relationship is the bed creaking incessantly in time with those powerful thrusts, the headboard crashing into the wall, headboard that’s been replaced more than once in one month. Funny, how they swear and live for your wellbeing but when get closer to their climax, dull nails dig into the softness of your skin, strong grips become more determined, and your clit is worshipped into overstimulation, a painful pleasure you are still getting used to.

“Cum for me,” Sukuna growls, his request sassy as he lowers to a deeper, more possessive tone that makes something in your belly crave. His composure breaks as your climax begins to build, refusing to let go until you’ve peaked first. “Cum on my cock and show those petty sorcerers that you are only MINE!"

You wake up startled from that dream, and the first thing you check is that you are indeed wrapped in that tangle of limbs that is Gojo, Geto and Nanami. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, what the hell was that!? The strong, irregular throbbing inside your chest must have woken him up since his head lay in the valley of your breasts, and Gojo peeks up to see you with those sleepy and worried eyes. 

"Did you have a nightmare, sweetie?"

Did you?

➡️🔞 FULL NSFW ART of this drabble

➡️ 👀 NSFW Sneak Peek

[alloftheimaginesblog]

intoxicating {benedict bridgerton}

plot: you're an old family friend of the bridgertons', benedict hasn't seen you in years and when he does, boy does he fall fast.

character: benedict bridgerton x plus size female reader

note: i'm back bitchessss :)

You wrung your hands nervously in your lap as you waited for the carriage to stop. A gloved hand took yours, "Do not fret, my darling," your mama said, voice as sweet as honey, "they are old friends, you need not worry."

"I know, mama," you said forcing a quick smile, "I wonder if they will recognise me, it has been quite an age since we last met."

She rolled her eyes with a teasing smile, "Of course they will. You and Colin still keep in regular contact, hm?" You nodded. You and Colin had been the best of friends growing up, Violet Bridgerton had always teased maybe the two of you would grow up to fall in love but you were just friends, that is all. You and Daphne had been close too, with her just two years behind you, she was like the sister you never had. "And Daphne, of course... Perhaps Benedict will be there." She hadn't forgotten your crush on the elder Bridgerton brother.

Despite yourself, your cheeks felt hot and you quickly ducked your head trying to not show your mama your embarrassment, "Mama, hush." She laughed knowingly.

It had been years since you had last set eyes on any of the Bridgerton family and yet, Benedict still had a hold on you. You were a few years younger than him but growing up beside the Bridgertons', you couldn't help the crush that formed. And now, almost a decade since you had last seen any of them, he still had some sort of control over you.

"That was all but a childhood crush," you frowned, "I do not still like Benedict Bridgerton."

Oh but how wrong you were.

The carriage stilled and a moment later, the door swung open and you were looking out towards the Bridgerton house, the home you used to run around the halls of.

Oh dear lord.

Music and chatter filled the hall as people flocked inside. Tonight, the Bridgertons' were throwing a ball in honour of the late Lord Bridgerton as this is what would be his anniversary. You and your Mama had been invited and after just moving back to London, you jumped at the chance to reconnect with old friends.

Almost immediately, your mama was whisked away by Lady Danbury, "Go," your mama encouraged, "find your old friends. Have fun." You did not want her to go. If anything, you wanted to latch onto her the whole time. Being here, in uncertainty, filled you with dread and anxiety. You watched her go before you tentatively stepped further into the hall, looking around trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar face. Then, you saw him.

Benedict Bridgerton.

He was older, of course he was, he would be eight and twenty now with you four years behind. His dark hair was tousled to absolute perfection, his eyes glinting in the light as he laughed with some men you looked very similar - Colin and it must've been Anthony. They were all so extraordinarily handsome; same dark hair and same sharp jawline. Seeing Benedict sent a flurry of butterflies into your stomach. He was so handsome, so effortlessly charming; one smile and you were gone. All at once, you felt like you were thirteen again giggling and blushing at the mere sight of him.

It was then a squeal sounded from beside you, "(y/n)!" And you were enveloped in a warm hug. It was Daphne, you realised and eased into the hug, "Oh, (y/n), it is simply delightful to see you again!" When she pulled away, you could appreciate how she had grown up into a beautiful young woman.

"Daphne," you beamed, "you are... Look at you!" You hugged her tightly again, "It is so wonderful to be back."

After your hellos, Daphne linked arms with you and began to walk with you, "I heard from my Mama that you met your match with a certain Duke of Hastings." At the mention of her new husband, Daphne's face split into a wide grin.

"Oh, we have so much to catch up on, (y/n)!"

It had been an hour or so since you had arrived at the Bridgerton Ball and you and Daphne had stood in the corner of the room catching up on any and all life events over the course of the last decade. You may have still written to each other every month but it was different getting to explore such events in person. She was wed to the Duke of Hastings which meant she was a Duchess, "Oh, you shall have to come and visit us. It is just so grand!" She clutched your hand and smiled so wide and you could feel her happiness radiating from her being.

"How rare it is," you mused, "a love match." You had always hoped it would happen to you but it just did not. A marriage was not your first priority at the minute but you did always hope for a love match as rare as they were.

"It was not always going to be one. At first we drove each other mad but soon, it developed and now..." She looked down at her lemonade with a wide smile, "and..." Her eyes shifted ensuring no one else was watching and when she finally landed back on you, her eyes were aglow with excitement, "we have a secret." Her left hand fell to her stomach and it took everything in you to not scream with excitement for her.

"Oh, Daphne!" You beamed, hugging her tightly, "What wonderful news!"

"You must not tell anyone, it is only my mother and Simon that know. I have not yet told my siblings."

"I swear, your secret is safe with me."

It was then you felt a tap on the shoulder, "Mi'lady, I do believe that after this many years of not seeing each other, you do owe me a dance." His voice was deeper now but still familiar, still warm like honey.

"Colin!" You turned and found him opening his arms to you which you moved into happily. A little much for being in public but neither of you cared. The Bridgertons' didn't exactly like following rules anyway. He was taller with that same dark hair as his brothers and that chiselled jawline. When he pulled back it was then you could appreciate the beauty of time. He, too, was handsome and his eyes were still so kind, something that was rare these days. When he extended his hand, you gladly accepted his invitation to dance.

Daphne moved to find her elder brothers as Colin whisked you onto the dance floor. Benedict welcomed Daphne over with a wide smile and went to take a drink from his champagne when he suddenly stilled, eyes focused on something - or rather someone. "Something troubling you?" Daphne nudged him though she already had a feeling she knew what he was about to ask.

He lowered his drink, "Who is that delectable thing that Colin is dancing with and how in the world did he ever manage to get her to agree to dance with him?"

Daphne laughed slightly, "Why, brother, do you not recognise her? Perhaps you should take a closer look." Benedict squinted. You and Colin were laughing, your smile wide and happy as you threw your head back. You were exquisite and then it clicked.

"(y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Oh," Anthony nodded, "so it is. My, how she has really grown up, mm brother?" He nudged Benedict's side with a knowing smirk. Anthony knew fine well what his brother would be thinking and feeling at the mere sight of you. You were gorgeous and you were exactly Benedict's type.

Benedict swallowed. When you were growing up, with him being four years older, he just thought you were some annoying kid who would blush every time he spoke to you. He remembered that you and Colin were best friends, always together causing chaos and Benedict had participated sometimes but other than that, he kept his distance. He was four years older and when you were children, that seemed like two different worlds. However now was different. You were an adult, four and twenty to his eight and twenty, that was barely anything.

Anthony was right. You had filled out and grown into yourself. Before when you were timid and shy, you now were confident and proud. You did not care that you and Colin kept forgetting steps and kept trodding on the other's toes because you were so caught up in the moment of being reunited. Your cheeks rosy and warm, lips plump and red, eyes glittering in the candlelight... You had filled out perfectly with curves in exactly the right places, full and soft. Benedict swallowed and briefly closed his eyes before he made his decision.

"Excuse me," he said as he drained the remnants of his glass and thrust the champagne flute hastily in Anthony's direction. Anthony smirked, taking it and placing it onto a nearby waiter's tray. He and Daphne watched him weave his way through the crowd to stop beside you and Colin.

"May I cut in?" He asked.

Startled, you looked at him, face immediately heating up as you realised who was asking to dance with you. Benedict's eyes bore into your own, he never once looked to his younger brother and instead focused all of his attention on you. It made you nervous. You looked to Colin who rolled his eyes, "You know it is rather rude to interrupt a dance, brother. The dance is just about to end-"

"I did not ask you, Colin." Your eyes moved from Colin to Benedict who repeated his question though his tone was softer when he spoke to you, "May I cut in?"

The confidence he had seen in you moments previous seemed to vanish. He smirked knowing that he made you nervous. Words were lost and all you could do was nod. Colin rolled his eyes again, "She is all yours, Ben." He dropped your hands and Benedict picked them back up again, never breaking eye contact with you.

Your heart hammered hard in your chest as you and Benedict began to dance. The music ended and yet, here the two of you were still dancing on a dancefloor that was beginning to clear. Yes, the next song would start in a few minutes but this... this was improper. This was considered impolite to a lot of people; scandalous. From your left, you could see your mama standing with Lady Bridgerton, Violet, and they were... smiling? They did not seem to be angered by yours and Benedict's continuing dance, instead they looked happy? Around you, you could feel the eyes on you and you could practically hear the gossip being shared around the room. Daphne had filled you in about Lady Whistledown and you knew that you would definitely be featured in tomorrow's issue. You were certainly making a lasting impression. Benedict could see that confidence falter and his words broke you out of your thoughts, "Ignore it, ignore them all... Look at me, focus on me." You took a breath and met his eyes again and oddly enough, instead of feeling nervous or embarrassed, a calmness washed over you when you looked at him, "There," he smiled, "Better?"

You nodded, "Better."

"When did you return to London? Was it France you were?"

"Day before yesterday," you said, "Yes, we moved to France. My father had business but my family could move back since my father's work brought him back here. We were able to move back into our old home."

Benedict smiled, "The one with the cherry trees outside and apple trees in the back, yes?" You nodded, "How long has it been since you left?"

"A long time," you laughed slightly, "Around ten years."

"Are you glad to be back?" He asked. He seemed to move with such skill and ease, dancing came naturally to him whereas it took you years of practice to be able to do a good waltz.

"You know, you ask a lot of questions," you teased making Benedict smile, "Yes, I am. It is nice to be back home and lovely to be back with old friends."

Benedict nodded, "So you are not missing anyone from back in France then?"

Smirking, you asked, "Is this your way of asking if I am wed or to be wed or even as much as being courted, Benedict?"

The older Bridgerton boy laughed, "Clearly I was not as discreet as I wanted to be." The violinists began to pick up signalling the second dance was starting and the dancefloor began to fill with people again. Benedict switched dancing styles with ease and a smile.

"To answer your question, no. Friends, yes, but nothing more than mere friends."

"Really?" The corners of his mouth turned upwards, "I must say, that surprises me greatly."

Your eyebrow quirked, "And why is that, Lord Bridgerton?"

"Look at you," he lowered his head so that he was now only mere inches from you, "absolutely divine." Once again, your heart began to thud as your whole body grew heated, "Forgive me for overstepping but you are the most beautiful woman in this place, in the whole Ton. You are simply intoxicating."

You couldn't look at him, too flustered to do anything except let out a giggle which only furthered your embarrassment. It was like you were a girl again, giggling and blushing. Benedict's hand let go of yours as he placed his thumb and index finger on your chin, tilting your head upwards to look at him in the eyes, "Do not hide," he whispered. The two of you slowed and then stilled in the middle of the dance floor, "You need not hide from me."

You couldn't help it but your eyes fleeted to his lips. You had grown up wanting nothing more than to be noticed by him and now, here you were. He had finally noticed you.

Then all at once, all of a sudden it dawned on you where you were and what was happening. You cleared your throat, taking a step away from Benedict and dropping away from his touch, "Lord Bridgerton," you said, curtseying and once again hiding your face from him, "I think we have perhaps overstayed our welcome on the dance floor."

With haste, you turned and left the dance floor. Benedict didn't follow, not yet. He had moved too fast, went too far. Clearing his throat, he forced a smile to some gossiping onlookers before he went to find his brothers.

You had not stayed long at the Bridgerton Ball after that, finding your heart wouldn't stop racing and your mind wouldn't stop replaying what had happened. You hadn't wanted to leave so soon but after hearing an unpleasant comment from a rather unpleasant girl, you found your mama, made your excuses and the two of you made your way home.

"Poor girl does not even realise that Lord Bridgerton was only dancing with her out of sheer pity. How on Earth could he ever truly be with someone that looks like that? He was merely pitying her, clearly."

The comment had not stopped repeating in your mind extinguishing the burning hope that Benedict's eyes set alight the moment he looked into yours. How stupid of you to think even for a moment that he had finally noticed you after all this time? How stupid of you to hope that he could feel for you the way that you felt for him? How stupid.

And then Lady Whistledown had something to say about it as well. Daphne and Colin had told you about Lady Whistledown in their letters but you never actually expected to feature in one of the issues!

It seems as though, dear reader, a certain Bridgerton man may be off the market soon enough. An old friend returned to the Ton, (y/n) (y/l/n), and it seems that she made quite the impression on the eligible bachelor. They seemed rather taken with each other that they continued to dance despite the song ending... rather impolite and improper if you ask me, dear reader. However, the dance ended rather abruptly with (y/n) leaving Lord Bridgerton on the dance floor in the middle of a dance. All we know about (y/n) (y/l/n) so far is that she likes to break rules and cause scenes and is this the impression she wants to make? If so, then perhaps she is a good fit for Lord Bridgerton after all. Only time will tell.

You had spent the last few days hiding in the safety of your bedroom. Your mama had tried to coax you out for an early morning promenade but you had declined. Although Lady Whistledown's writing was not at all bad - for she had certainly said worse of others before - you had not wanted to create a scene or cause such a stir. You were horrified at your actions; being improper and impolite on your first night back into society and then with Benedict. You had let him fool you and the reality of that crushed you so heavily. For one small moment, you had let yourself be fooled.

Your mama burst into your room with your handmaidens rushing to keep up with her, "Get dressed, (y/n), we are going out."

"Mama, I do not feel well, I cannot-"

"I know what happened with Benedict has left you embarrassed but I assure you, my darling, Violet was not mad at all. She and I laughed about it, reminiscing about ourselves breaking the rules with our significant others. The ball was for her late husband and you and Benedict reminded her of him... I would say that means you left a good impression."

You rolled your eyes, falling back onto your pillows, "I simply cannot show my face ever again, mama. We have to go back to France."

She laughed loudly, "All because of this? Do not be so silly, child," she perched on the edge of your bed, "My darling, it will pass. Lady Whistledown is already onto new topics, the rest of the Ton will be too. You cannot hide away forever besides... we have been invited for dinner."

"Where?"

She faltered, "It is with the Bridgertons'." Before you could refuse, your mama cut over you, "Violet wanted to extend an invite to welcome us back home, that is all. It would be rude to not attend."

"But he will be there, mama!"

"Why are you so against seeing him again?" She asked curiously, "From where I stood it looked like the two of you were getting along perhaps a bit too well." You bit your lip and looked at your hands. Your mama frowned, "(y/n)?"

"I got caught up in the moment and I let myself hope that it could turn into something but then..." Your mama gestured for you to continue, "A girl made a comment and it made me realise that Lord Bridgerton would never go for a woman like me. I am simply not enough." Tears burned in your eyes and that dark feeling of shame burned strong in your stomach.

"My darling girl," your mama crooned, scooting closer to hold your hands, "I saw the way that man looked at you and that was not a man with bad intentions. After you left, he looked crestfallen and sulked all night. A man who would be wanting to make a fool of you would have gone to his friends and laughed and drank but no... Violet told me that he in fact left shortly after we did, returned to his chambers for the night. That is a man with the intentions of fooling you."

"But I am not enough for him, mama."

She held your hands so tight, eyes boring into your own, "Yes, you are. You are everything and more and if not for him then you will be for someone else. You are worthy and deserving of love and respect, my darling, so do not dare settle for less."

The two of you spent another few minutes with your mama praising you and helping you to realise that what the girl had said was pure jealousy and not true. You felt better, not fixed but better. You felt well enough to accept Lady Bridgerton's invitation of dinner despite the nerves that bubbled in your stomach.

Once again, you found yourself nervously waiting in the carriage to go to the Bridgerton home though this time was entirely different. You were not nervous to see your friends, no, you were terrified of seeing Benedict. You took a breath, stilling your hands and trying your best to calm your heartrate.

"We have arrived," your mama said as the carriage slowed then stopped. The door swung open a moment later, "Relax," she whispered into your ear as you walked to the door, "you look gorgeous." You did, in all fairness. You were wearing one of the dresses your father had made for you from France, the fabrics were rich and soft and the colour made your eyes shine. You looked divine.

Here we go.

Lady Bridgerton greeted you at the door with a wide smile and a warm hug, "Welcome," she greeted kindly, "come, let us go to the dining room."

You followed closely behind and let Lady Bridgerton lead you to the dining room, "It is just as I remember," you smiled fondly, admiring the paintings that adorned the wall, "how lovely."

Lady Bridgerton led you into the one of the living areas, "I must apologise, dinner is running a little behind schedule but it should not take too much longer. (y/n), Daphne is in the library if you would like to be with her until dinner is ready?"

Thankful that you hadn't laid eyes on Benedict yet, you nodded and wandered the halls. It was like muscle memory, you remembered exactly where you had to go and which way to turn and it wasn't long before you were shutting the door behind you seeing Daphne smile up at you.

"I am so glad to see you!" She said with a welcoming hug, "I was worried that you would not attend after..."

"After me running from your ball and disappearing from society for a few days?"

Daphne smiled sympathetically, "What happened?"

"I danced with him - Benedict - and I... God, Daphne, I felt like a child again. I was giggling and blushing and he seemed genuinely interested."

"So what on Earth happened for you to run out?"

You groaned, "He was saying all of the right things and I thought for a moment he might feel the same and I panicked... Your mama must hate me, I have been so improper. I got caught up in-"

Daphne placed a reassuring hand on your arm, "(y/n), calm down. My mama actually was rather happy to see you and Benedict dancing and breaking the rules. As was your mama. I overheard them talking and laughing saying how it reminded them of themselves when they were younger. You need not fret."

"That is what my mama said but I-"

"I said, calm," Daphne said with a laugh, "It will be fine, I assure you. Though I do have a question... why did you flee from Benedict? From what you are telling me, it seems like you still have feelings so why run if he is seemingly showing similar signs of want? Why have you been absent from society for a few days?"

You shook your head, "It is stupid but... Daphne, look at me." Daphne frowned, "I am not small nor am I petite like you and the other girls. I am larger, there is more to me than normal."

"I am not understanding."

"Benedict has always been so desirable, so handsome and charming whilst I... I have never been noticed. I have always been in the shadows. It cannot be true that Benedict would even for one second would notice me, it simply cannot be true." You looked to Daphne who was looking past you, looking at the doorframe and when you followed her gaze, your heart sank. Benedict.

"Sister, do you think you could give us the room?" Benedict asked softly.

"I shall leave you two for a few minutes but I will stand outside the door and will alert if there happens to be anyone coming." She squeezed your hand on the way past and gave a nod to her brother. Benedict only stepped forwards when the door was shut behind her.

He approached carefully and slowly as though you were a skittish kitten and he was trying to not scare you, "How could you say those things about yourself?" He sounded genuinely wounded by your words as though he actually cared.

"Why are you here, Lord Bridgerton?" Your voice was colder than you intended but he knew that it was you putting your guard up. You were afraid of being hurt so he did not mind if it meant you were colder to him. He would get you to trust him.

Benedict scoffed slightly, "This is my house too, you know, Lady (y/l/n)." Had you not been so terrified you would've laughed at his pettiness to give you your title, "I was also searching for you. I wanted to see you before dinner."

"You found me. I am well. You may go."

"You cannot dismiss me from my own home, (y/n)."

"I can try."

Benedict sucked a deep breath in through his nose, "Why are you fighting against me? Why are you so angry?" He swallowed, "Did I... Did I overstep or offend you the other night at the ball? If I did, I must extend my sincerest apologies-"

You looked at him and you wanted to cry. He meant it so sincerely. You could see in his eyes how deeply sorry he was if he had offended you and it broke your walls. You shook your head, "It was not you, Benedict." Your voice quivered pitifully, "I... I let myself get wrapped up in a fantasy and I panicked."

"What fantasy?"

It was now or never, "The fantasy where you finally saw me, finally noticed me; finally felt for me. I am sure you must have known I had the biggest crush on you when I was a child and it seems that it is still here. While we danced, I let myself belief you would maybe perhaps feel the same. I was stupid and childish and other people noticed too."

"Whatever do you mean?" His expression was unreadable but his voice was soft, "What people?"

"As I was leaving... Some girl made a comment about you dancing with me out of pity; that you would not be genuinely interested in me, you were just pitying me. Look at me, Benedict, and then look at you..."

Benedict frowned, "Do you believe that?"

"I..." Your mouth opened and then snapped shut when you saw his gaze, "I had hoped it not be true."

He took a step towards you and you found yourself rather hot and breathless like all of the air was being sucked out of the air, "(y/n), I never saw you when you were younger, I was older and thought nothing more of you than my sister's friend, I admit that to be true... But now... You are divine, you are intoxicating, (y/n). You are driving me insane! You are beautiful - your body, your face, your smile; but you are far more than that." He laughed loudly before rubbing a hand over his face, "You have consumed me. I have spent the last three days in society waiting for you, searching for you; needing to see you again. I have no been able to stop thinking about you; your laugh, your lips, the way we danced... I have pestered Colin trying to make him give me some of your letters so that I may hear your voice in my head, smell the faint smell of your perfume..." He breathed deeply and you hadn't realised but now, your chests were pressed together and you were staring up at him completely helpless. You felt like this was all a dream, surely you would wake up in few moments and this would all be a figment of your imagination... But no, here you were with Benedict Bridgerton professing his love to you.

"I..." He swallowed hard, "I do not wish to take something of yours that does not belong to me but if you want it, if you want me then I will be yours so completely and wholly." His blue eyes bore into yours, "I will be yours if you want me."

His admission had your heart racing and your cheeks were on fire, "I-I have been yours for a decade, Benedict. Always just yours."

Benedict's face split into a wide grin and then your eyes were fluttering shut as he leaned down and kissed you. Your first ever kiss shared with the boy you had loved from being a child. It was then Daphne wrapped her knuckles on the door and you and Benedict were snapped apart both slightly flushed and breathless. Daphne opened the door and let herself in, "Mama's coming, Ben."

Benedict pressed a kiss to your hand, "There is no point in waiting, I suppose," he shrugged, "What say you to marrying me? I apolgise it is not romantic in the slightest or planned out but why wait? You waited a long enough time." Daphne squealed and your jaw dropped, "You have a few seconds before my mother bursts through that door, (y/n)... What is your answer?" He teased with a grin, "Take a leap of faith with me or run away again? What is your choice?"

All you could do was nod and at that moment, the door swung open to reveal Violet Bridgerton, "Dinner is- what is wrong?"

"Mother, get the champagne!" Benedict grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulders and twisting you to face his mother, "We are to be wed!"

You winced in anticipation, expecting Violet's reaction to be angry but instead, she gasped and grinned before rushing to you both to hug you tightly. When she pulled away, her eyes were filling with tears, "Oh, my loves," she crooned as she caressed both of your cheeks, "Welcome to the family, (y/n)... Let us go celebrate, hm?"

[vexxandra]

for those scared of love (timeless pick-a-card)

recently had someone come into my life, this pac is for me <///333 01-11-24

pile 1 > pile 2 pile 3 > pile 4

pile 1

i feel this hyper independance about you. perhaps you have a serious appearance or a stern personality, but i get the sense that you do not like relying on others. this may be where your fear comes from. love requires co-operation, but how can you entrust your heart in the hands of another? you are so smart, strong and confident, able to pull anyone you so desire, so why are you so scared?

i feel like love is the one problem you cannot face. it's like the sun, so beautiful yet blinding- you can't help but look away. that is okay. it is okay to be scared. love is scary, i understand; what if you fall? oh but my darling, what if you fly? opening your heart will do you more good than bad, and i can tell you this with the utmost confidence.

pile two

the heartbroken pile, i see you. i feel you. i feel your fear. i feel your jaded cynicism, the soft beating of your glass heart, pieced together back and back again. i feel the tears on your cheek, faded, but flowing like the carvings of bark on a tree. you most likely either have someone in mind right now, or are recently recovering from something. regardless, you are overthinking so very much. and how could you not? you feel as if the world is against you- that you in particular never seem to get the greener grass or the brighter stars.

this situation you are living is scaring you, but is it really all that scary? are the monsters beings of your mind, or are they real? you are thinking too much i feel. take a breather, tap into your heart and slip away from the moment for a while. everything will turn out wonderfully, you will be so happy in the end. (ps: i recommend listening to some ambient noises like pink or brown to help quiet the worry thoughts).

pile three

im confused pile three, are you? there were a lot of contradictions in your cards, they were so hard to read. do you know what you want? asking with love of course. perhaps you are an indecisive person, and i feel like you don't like staying in the same place or situation for too long. you have this beautiful energy, but it all goes out the window when it comes to love. by which i mean you tend to self-sabotage yourself in the endless pursuit of answers.

i feel like this reading in particular is less about love and more about your mindset. i feel like you must work on this part of you that keeps you trapped in your brain, and you will be so much happier in all fields. i feel like you must work on this before getting into a serious relationship with a person, because it'll cause unnessecary worry for you, and i do not want you to suffer.

pile four

have you felt called to pile one? i see some similarities there, so feel free to check it out if you so desire. i feel as if your fear stems from insecurity. im getting the vibe that you dont know if people are being genuine with you or not. a specific example that will most certainly not apply to everyone is being rejected constantly during your youth, but after glowing up, everyone is flocking towards you. i feel as if you try to convince yourself you dont need love, that it is better if you stay single. there are truly so many similiarities between this pile and pile one. all of these piles have corresponding pairs which i think is cool

you are guarded with your heart, unwilling to let the wrong person in. good news is, i think you are more than emotionally mature enough to have a secure partner if you so desired it, and i see that someone intelligent and able to match your standards will be coming in soon. take care pile four, and remember that you are beautiful from the inside out, always and forever.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Everywhere is good but home is..." - Mihawk x Reader

@thetempleofthemasaigoddess wondered why Mihawk doesn't quite get along with his mother-in-law and who am I to keep such secrets to myself?

SUMMARY: Mihawk is not exactly fond of his in-laws. Nevertheless, he compliantly tags along whenever you pay your parents a visit. If it makes you happy, he's willing to bite his tongue. For a day, at least.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2.6k

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

Imagine, if you will, an angry boar. A large, stout boar with birse as dark as the night sky. As boars do, it will gore with its tusks to let out the frustration and get rid of whatever it was that made the animal seethe. Now, if you take away its tusks, what can it do? Angrily dig for truffles? 

Or maybe stand beside you, a scowl on his face and a begrudging “I am fine” every time you ask about the bitter expression?

Mihawk doesn’t like visiting your parents. It’s the sickeningly sweet familial atmosphere that suffocates him. Don’t misunderstand - he’s fond of the thought of having a family with you but the aura of your childhood home is a little too… overwhelming for him. A little too picture-perfect. But being the man he is, Mihawk has never outright talked about his dislike because he’s aware of how much that would hurt you. Still, you know your husband a little too well to disregard his sighs and frowns. This piece of secret knowledge always makes you love him more - he’s willing to suffer for a day or two just to make you happy. If it’s not love, what else could it be?

The farmhouse looks different than it did last year when you visited: the roof tiles have been changed, the outside of the building has been repainted and even some of the fence surrounding the land is new. Clearly, your parents have been busy with their retirement.

Despite the irate expression on his face, Mihawk silently overtakes you and opens the shabby wicket gate to let you enter first. He gives you a questioning look when you suddenly stop.

“It’s going to be fine, Mihawk,” you reassure him.

“So you’ve been saying, darling.”

Comforting warmth spreads inside his chest as you smile at him and kiss his cheek. He turns his head, hoping to catch your lips but you’re already on your way to the older man raking leaves in the distance. Mihawk clenches his jaw and lets out an exasperated sigh. With a loud bang, he closes the gate behind him. He follows you in slow steps, naively putting off the fateful moment of meeting your family.

Walking down the path leading to the farmhouse and the fields behind it, Mihawk looks around the desolate landscape. It’s quaint, he thinks to himself. Tall trees sway on the chilly, autumn wind. Right above their peaks, although far away, are mountains with their tops covered in snow. Uncut grass brushes against his clothes. A flock of cranes flies high in the sky, disappearing and reappearing as they fly through grey clouds. Their key is directed south, towards warmth that will shield them from winter snow. The area is a bit too colourful and bright for his liking but with a nice “please” from you, Mihawk could see himself settling down in a place like this.

Dracule just comes into earshot and has the displeasure of hearing your father yelling:

“Pumpkin!” The older man’s voice is filled with excitement. He lets go of the rake, letting it fall on the ground. Despite his age and clear exhaustion from the work, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you almost to death. “Honey, come out!” he shouts towards the farmhouse. “It’s Pumpkin!”

Mihawk almost can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. You’re a grown woman, married at that, and they still call you by a nickname they had come up with while you were still in diapers. ‘When I asked where children came from, they told me that they found me between pumpkins in their field,’ you once explained to him.

The door to the building flies open. Soon enough, your mother is running to you. Her greying hair is braided into a plait. She’s wearing an apron with traditional patterns hand-stitched into it. Half of the motif had been done by a skilled hand, stitched with precision and perfection. The other part, however, is a lot more crooked and amateurish, probably done by a child’s hand. Your hand.

Tears glisten in your mother's eyes. Despite her older age, there’s vigour and youth inside those irises - a certain love for life that you’ve taken after her. She quickly wipes her hands on the apron and hugs you.

“Oh, Pumpkin!” A stray tear leaves her eye. “I haven’t seen you in ages! You could have said you’re visiting.”

“You’ve always loved surprises, mum.”

She lets go of you and redirects her attention to Mihawk. Her face lights up as though he’s her own son, beaming with love and pride. To his absolute horror, your mother puts her hands on the sides of his face. He almost pulls away to avoid the unwanted affections.

“Sweetie, you look handsome as ever!” she exclaims. Her expression falls as she looks him up and down. “But you’re a bit thin, aren’t you? And that open shirt, tsk. Winter is coming, sweetheart, you’ll catch pneumonia if you don’t cover up.”

“Delighted to see you again, ma’am,” Mihawk lies through his teeth. To some degree, you’re impressed with how honest he sounds.

"Oh, sweetheart, I told you to just call me mum!” She laughs. “We're family now."

You can see the relief in Mihawk’s eyes as your mother lets go of him. Some part of you wants to burst with laughter as you recall countless moments when you’re the one cradling his face and Dracule is more than overjoyed with the tender touch. It feels like there’s something beyond special about you, that he welcomes such intimate things. Although, truth be told, when it’s your hands on his face, you usually lean in to kiss him and that’s definitely not something he wants to think about while standing in front of your mother.

“He’s a grown man, honey.” Your father nags at his wife. He waves his hand in a dismissing manner. “Leave him be.” Mihawk’s terror returns when a heavy hand reaches for his shoulder. “Come, son, you’ll chop some wood for the night. I’m too old for this. The last time I tried chopping firewood, I got sciatica.”

“Pleased to help,” Dracule drones his words. He gives you a glance like a silent plead ‘Look what I do for you’. Then, he follows your father further into the garden.

You feel your mother put her arm around your shoulder. “Boys are off to have fun and we have a dinner to make.”

Something inside you stirs with excitement - cooking and baking used to be your bonding activities with your mum. Since you’ve married Mihawk, you’re not allowed to do any housework. Everything is taken care of by servants. You find that you’ve grown to miss the rhythm of mundane life, although it would be a lie if you said that you dislike the life you have with Mihawk. It’s just… different.

The sound of pots, pans and knives hitting the cutting boards is like a symphony to your ears. An aria to your childhood. If you closed your eyes, you could almost see the world as it used to be, your eyes right below the level of the countertops, always standing on a stool to help your mother.

But the thoughts of your younger years dissipate as you stare out of the kitchen window. You have the perfect view of your husband chopping firewood with your father raking leaves in the back. Mihawk’s skin glistens in the afternoon, autumn sun. There’s not a bead of sweat on his torso. He appears completely relaxed as he swings the axe with one hand. Some logs are already cracked or particularly dry and those he rips apart with his bare hands. Those same hands that tear pieces of wood into matches have caressed your skin with almost fearful softness; the arms that bring destruction have tirelessly shielded you from the dangers of the world. 

Your dad looks over his shoulder at the pile of firewood with a nod of awe. If Mihawk keeps up his tempo, he’ll prepare enough fuel for the next week.

“You remind me of your dad and me when we were younger.” Your mother’s face shakes you awake from your thoughts. Suddenly remembering that you were supposed to be helping her, you look down at the awfully chopped carrots. At least you didn’t cut off your finger. “Always stealing glances as though we weren’t already married.”

A sigh of yearning leaves your lips. What did you do in your past life to deserve a man like him?

“Dad still looks at you in an uncomfortably intense way,” you answer, a smile on your lips.

Your mother’s laughter brightens up the small, crowded kitchen. It’s not hard to correctly guess what your dad saw in her that made him want to spend his life with that woman. “He does the same when you’re not looking,” she says while vaguely pointing at Mihawk.

Her words make you blush. A deep shade of red covers your cheeks, making your whole face hot to the touch. “What do you mean?”

She looks at you with sympathy. “I saw it the day you introduced him to us. And each time you come over, he seems to be a little worse in his affliction, staring at you like you’re the one who hung stars in the sky. It made your grandma remind her of grandad so much, that she cried at your wedding.”

Listening to her, your longing gaze returns to Mihawk who appears oblivious to your undivided interest in him. “Mum, does it ever get boring?” you ask without looking away. “The sense of calm when you’re around him. Like everything could be ruined but it’s fine because he’s there.”

“It’s the only thing in the world that never gets tiring.” A flustered, juvenile smile decorates her face. Even with wrinkles and greying hair, she looks barely older than you at the moment, reliving the flame of love inside her that has never dwindled. “Now, let’s finish with the sentiments and stuff the duck, eh?”

Mihawk is reaching for another log when something makes him momentarily freeze. There, in front of the stump he’s been chopping wood on, sits a dog. It’s clearly a mutt, each feature taken from a different breed. The fur is an amalgamation of markings in different colours: orange, grey, white and black. As the dog notices Mihawk’s interest, it gets up, restlessly stomping in place or rather hopping as the pet is missing one of its hind legs.

“Gulliver,” Dracule recalls the name of the mutt you’ve told him so much about. Your first and only friend growing up in the countryside.

The name is taken as an invite and so the dog places a drool-covered, chewed-out ball next to the piece of firewood. The pet sits again, tail wagging as fast as it can.

For a moment, Mihawk is torn. He wants the dog to leave him be but that would mean he has to put his hand on the slimy toy. Then again, the pet is sure to continue disturbing him now that he has acknowledged its existence.

Cringing at the wet and warm sensation of the ball, Dracule picks it up, only furthering Gulliver’s excitement.

"This means nothing," he drones his words and throws the toy so far it almost disappears from sight. The dog, overjoyed, runs after the ball. 

Considering that your dad’s throw has gotten weaker with age, Mihawk might have dug his own grave with the distance he made the ball fly. Gulliver will probably want another run. Or ten.

For a moment, Mihawk goes back to the fantasy of settling down with you in a mountainous wonderland. Maybe you could have a dog too? Not a mutt but a hunting hound? They look very noble.

But he shakes those thoughts away and continues chopping wood.

The dinner went well. Homemade food, family you haven’t seen in a year, the cosy and sentimental atmosphere of your childhood home… And Mihawk didn’t look as miserable as he probably felt. Although you’re enjoying this little family reunion, you seize the opportunity for solitude when it arises:

Your parents go to the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes, plate the dessert and brew some tea. Tugging on Mihawk’s arm, you pull him outside the house.

The old flooring of the porch creaks under your weight. A bright, melodic tune is carried by the wind as it brushes against the chimes hanging under the roof. The sun has recently set and the sky is still in a lovely, indigo shade. Birds croak in the distance, announcing nightfall.

His warm hand rests on your lower back. The touch makes you momentarily take a deep, relaxing breath. Your thoughts become both orderly and fuzzy as though Mihawk’s presence turned all of your wandering, useless ideas into static you can easily ignore. How can a person have so much control over you? 

Mihawk is towering over you. He tilts his head downwards to look at you. Something about his looming aura makes you feel not only protected but also well-cared-for, as though you could give yourself up to him completely and you’d still live like a queen in a castle.

“If you keep frowning, your face will stay like that,” you say to him.

Mihawk’s expression relaxes at the mere mention of his visibly bitter mood. Or maybe it softens because he’s looking at you. “I was under the impression that you’re rather fond of my face.”

“And you’d be correct. But I do have to say that seeing you tear wood apart was much better.”

You lean closer to him as you put your arms around his neck. He welcomes the gesture, allowing his hands to travel an inch or two downwards, a little too low for when one is in the vicinity of others. Especially someone’s parents.

“So my wife likes to see me do manual labour,” he states, his warm breath brushing against your cold cheeks. There’s no surprise in his voice and there shouldn’t be. He’s noticed the way you look at him when he wields a sword and Mihawk would be an awful liar if he said he doesn’t enjoy those glances.

“I like seeing you, full stop. Chopping wood is just a nice variation to the scenario. Strong arms and all that.”

The said arms pull you by your hips into a kiss. Although he’s spent only a day in this part of the region, he already smells like fresh mountain air and pine needles. Mihawk groans, feeling the curves of your body against his. He will never get enough of this. Enough of you.

“Tea is served!”

Your mother’s exclamation makes you pull away from Mihawk. He instinctively chases after your lips before letting out an annoyed sigh. A chuckle rumbles in your chest. Dracule rolls his eyes but lets you thread your fingers with his and pull him back inside the farmhouse. There, you interrupt an interesting conversation:

“Darling, when’s the cake tasting again?” your father asks while flipping through the calendar, a pencil in his hand.

“On the 25th, honey,” she answers. The dining room is immediately filled with the aroma of bergamot as your mother pours the tea. “At 6 in the afternoon.”

“Cake tasting?” you repeat in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Our golden wedding, of course!” the older woman beams with joy. “We’ve yet to send out the invitations, though, so don’t tell anyone. Especially your aunt. Gods know she runs her mouth like it’s a marathon.”

As though you’re thinking the same thing, Mihawk and you glance at each other. The miserable, irate expression in his eyes elicits a burst of bright laughter from you. He just can’t catch a break, can he?

[teenytinyjimin]

i miss you, i’m sorry (j. jungkook)

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry.

summary: the first time seeing each other after the breakup is always the hardest. but seeing each other when you're still in love? an absolute nightmare

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

tags: angst, smoker!jk, brokenhearted!jk, equally as brokenhearted!reader, why did they even break up in the first place?, featuring reader’s bestfriend!jimin, also jimin is sexually ambiguous let's keep it that way please

warnings: none, alcohol/nic use but nothing too intense, kinda sad but it's a happy ending i promise

author’s note: idk why i keep making my fic names and stuff inspired by songs, i guess it just helps me beat writers block.

also i wrote this in second person, lmk if you guys prefer that over third. i personally find third person fics easier to write, but i'm sure second person is easier to read for some of you. enjoy my angels!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bars weren't really your thing.

If you were going to be honest, they were miles better than nightclubs, but still not your thing. It was something about the air that just rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it was all the creepy old men that turned you off of them, or just the fact that there's not much to do besides sit, drink, sit some more, maybe play some pool and... sit.

Jimin, on the other hand, loved bars. He loved being able to sit there, look pretty, and watch as absolutely anyone and everyone flocked over to him to start a conversation. It admittedly fueled his ego, and he loved the feeling of being the center of attention. However, he didn't love being at bars alone. Being so drop-dead gorgeous meant that about twenty times the amount of creeps bothered him than the average bar patron. Many of them figured that a pretty boy like him was sitting there waiting to be swooped up by a sugar daddy. Let's get one thing straight – that wasn't him. He had plenty of money. He just wanted to have a little conversation, give a little kiss here and there maybe, and dip at the end of the night with his bar companion by his side.

Unfortunately for you, that bar companion was usually you. It was certainly a compliment for Jimin to want to bring you along with him instead of any of his other gazillions of friends and other social connections, but it was quite exhausting for you to be in a bar pretty much every day of every weekend. He liked the attention, but you didn't. If it were an empty room with nothing but you and a bottle of rum, you'd have a blast. But what bar in Itaewon was going to be like that?

Alas, here you were, sat at the end of a bar with your friend sitting next to you. Something about the light in the building made him look extra beautiful tonight, his skin shimmering like the most precious of diamonds and his eyes deep and full of allure. At the moment he was making small talk with a lady on the other side of him, one who was definitely at least twenty years his senior but didn't look a day past thirty. Sighing, you drop your head down to look at your drink, a half-full martini glass that held a rather disappointing cosmopolitan (you weren't a vodka fan anyway, it wasn't the bartender's fault).

You wanted to be home. That was the only place you ever wanted to be these days. At home, cuddling your darling kitty in bed, and sleeping your days away. Maybe a year ago you would have loved being out and about, but now it feels more like a burden than a fun activity. And you know that Jimin doesn't mean any harm in doing what he does, but seeing him talk with so many people over the course of the night and being so happy is almost a bit gut-wrenching for you because you can't be as happy as him.

You began to feel the blood rush to your ears and your face get warm. Something was wrong, you could sense it. Everyone has those gut instincts when something isn't quite right, and this wasn't just an instinct, it was like a neon sign. A neon sign that read DANGER. Perhaps it was just you feeling rather anxious and overwhelmed, but either way you were craving the comfort of your home.

"Hey, 'Minnie, can we-" Just as you turned to Jimin to softly ask him if you could go home or at the very least switch bars, you felt a presence behind you. It wasn't just an I'm here to order a drink presence, but rather an I'm here for you one. Realizing that Jimin wasn't even listening anyway, you froze, waiting to see what would happen. And that's when you heard a familiar voice that you thought you'd never hear again.

"Hey."

You didn't want to turn around. You tried to stay as still as a statuette for as long as possible, however the more you thought about the man behind you the more you felt the urge to turn around and take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned until you were face-to-face with your ex, Jungkook.

"Want to talk outside?" Not yet looking at him directly, you hesitantly nodded before quickly looking back to Jimin and then standing up. You left your purse there, figuring that your friend would grab it if he changed locations, and began trailing after the tall tattooed figure that navigated his way toward the door.

As the two of you stepped out into the cool autumn air, you crossed your arms and leaned against the building. Your heart was between your ears at this point, buzzing at what felt like 200 beats a minute. It was stupid for you to have even left Jimin's side, you thought, because now you were alone with your ex of all people and God knows what this boy has up his sleeve.

"You look good," Jungkook said gently as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. "And I know what you're going to say, you're so full of it Kook, but I mean it."

"Since when have you started smoking?" You asked, ignoring his previous two statements and gesturing toward the pack in his hand. He shrugged. "Couple weeks after I last saw you maybe? Not a big deal."

"You know that stuff's bad for you."

"I don't think sitting here third-wheeling with Jimin and his beau of the night is any better."

"You don't know Jimin, don't act like you do," You said, completely taken aback and offended by the words coming out of his mouth. "And I'm having a good time, thank you very much."

"Doesn't seem like it. Weren't you about to ask him if you guys could leave?"

"I was having- What?- Is there a reason you asked to talk to me out here?" You were struggling to form a complete sentence. This man always knew how to leave you speechless, but now it was just irritating. You watched as Jungkook leaned back onto the building with you and shook his head, giving you a toothy grin before lighting the cigarette in his mouth. "Nah. Just figured you'd have more fun out here talking to me and getting a break from it all."

"You know he's waiting for me, right? I should go back inside." You stand back up straight and begin walking back into the bar, however you feel a warm hand wrap gently around your wrist and tug you back. "Hey hey hey," Jungkook called. "He'll survive a few minutes without you. Just chill with me. I'm not asking you for anything, just a second of your time."

You turned to face your ex-lover, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time that night. Even after all this time of being apart, those beautiful doe eyes still yearned for you, and yours for him. With a shaky sigh, you brush his hand away and return to where you were standing. "Exes don't hang out like this, Jungkook."

"Woah, you're pulling out the full government name on me now?" The boy teased, puffing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Should I be offended?"

"I'm setting boundaries," You crossed your arms and kicked at the ground beneath you. "Nicknames are for friends or more than friends, which we aren't."

"We aren't strangers either though."

"That doesn't matter. Not friends."

"Alright, fine," Giving up, Jungkook looked down at his hand and flexed it awkwardly. "Just trying to be friendly."

"Friendly?!" You said frantically, finally having enough of his antics. "You don't need to be friendly. We broke up and that's the end of it. Exes aren't friends. They go their separate ways and when they see each other again – if they see each other – they ignore each other. I don't get why you're doing this psychological warfare bullshit on me."

"Exes can be friends," He breathed out in protest. "Can you even tell me why we broke up in the first place?"

You remained silent. The truth was that you didn't know why you broke up either. It had been almost a year since the whole ordeal went down, and you were still confused more than anything else, even more than you were hurt. All you can remember is that you guys went through some bullshit ‘mutual breakup’ that apparently neither of you wanted in the first place. The only reason you even agreed to it is because somewhere within you, you felt like perhaps you weren’t deserving of such a wonderful relationship. And the only reason Jungkook agreed to it is because he thought that it’s what you wanted.

"No, seriously. What went wrong? What did I do? I just want some closure..." His voice became increasingly softer as he kept speaking, which only meant one thing. You stared at the ground intensely, refusing to look up and see his teary eyes.

You felt his hand gently wrap around yours and tug on it as a plea for your attention. Jungkook was your weakness, the only person you'd willingly do anything for, and he really loved to take advantage of that without even realizing he was.

You peered up at him hesitantly, worried that you'd find yourself in tears the second you saw the ones pouring from his eyes. Sure enough, when the eye contact began, you were driving yourself forward into his strong arms and dampening his shirt with your tears.

Jungkook's embrace felt the same as it did the last time you felt it. It was still so warm, so inviting, so loving. Never once did you feel unsafe in his arms and this moment was not an exception. As you sobbed into his shirt you felt his hand move from around your waist to the top of your head, stroking your hair gently.

The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours, simply letting all emotion out while enjoying the company of one another. While Jungkook has been exceptionally transparent in expressing the fact that he's heartbroken about the situation between the two of you, it's safe to say that you feel equally as devastated. This man was once the love of your life and the only one you ever needed, but now everything about him except for his embrace feels foreign. This was someone you once saw yourself building a life with, but now it's shattering to think that he has a life after you.

You pulled away after a while, refusing to make eye contact as you wiped the tears from your eyes. This all felt entirely pointless. It was obvious that nothing went wrong in the relationship yet here you were, no longer in one. You couldn't begin to imagine what Jungkook had been going through since you guys broke up considering the fact that for you, your entire world turned upside down.

"I'm sorry," You managed to choke out before you felt Jungkook's hand gently guide your face up to look at his. You watched him stare at you for a moment, taking in your features, before his lips began to curl into a soft smile. "Mmm. Yeah. You're way too pretty to let slip through my fingers."

Feeling your face turn hot as a blush crept to your cheeks, you let out a soft giggle before you were cut off by a familiar pair of lips meeting yours.

"JUNGKOOK?" You heard a voice call out. The two of you pulled apart, eyes wide. Shit. You forgot about Jimin.

[heartfullofleeches]

[Tldr: Big spider wifey Yan and sweetie little human darling]

W...women... Tiny, kind-hearted Darling who welcomes the bitter rightful hier to their kingdom with open arms after she returns centuries after her trial and execution. Her new form frightens most, but Darling finds her piercing glowing eyes and ashened skin to be quite gorgeous. All those extra limbs she's grown would be wonderful for hugs. As the kingdom runs itself mad trying to find ways to defend themselves from the evil queen, Royal Darling is in their garden creating a bouquet of their favorite flowers to gift to her upon her arrival.

"You there... I've come to take what's mine. Give me my throne or I shall take it along with your head."

"...Okay! When is the wedding?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"T-the wedding?..... Seeing as I am the current ruler the only way you can become Queen now is if we are wed... Oh, is that not what you intended? I'm sorry... "

Darling knows the pain of being rejected by their people as well. Their dislike for their ruler has never reached the same scale as the former Queen's treacherous flock, but had there been anyone else left in Darling's family the crown would have been theirs. Nearly all of Darling's kin had been whipped out by some mysterious plague. Darling is all that's left and there have been whispers throughout the kingdom how unfit they are to wear the crowd for how soft hearted they are."

"hm, you are stronger than you appear. I suppose I can humor you for the rest of your natural life. I and the rest like me will outlive you and your people for eons...."

The Queen planned on killing Darling the day of their wedding. Did this fool truly believe she would want the last remaining member of that bastard bloodline who betrayed her to stay alive? It would be a spectacle for all to see, yet - as they day arrived her withered heart had changed its tune. Everyday since the Queen had agreed to Darling's proposal they waited outside her door with a fresh bouquet and handpicked fruits from their garden. They asked their servants to add minerals and rose petals to her water whenever she bathed so that the cracks in her skin hopefully never worsened. Though she never spoke back much in the beginning, Darling spoke to her as if they were already married.

It was almost.... endearing.

"Do you take this....woman to be your wife?"

"I do."

"And do you take this person to be your spouse?"

"....I do."

How humorous is it the Queen's rage was snuffed by a descendant of the people who made her as she is now. The new queen carries her adorable spouse in her arms every which way she goes. If her spies hear even a word of someone speaking ill of her angel for giving into her wishes so easily she'll have their tongue ripped out and fed to the hounds. The flower crown's Darling makes for her decay within a day's time atop her head yet she wears them with pride till the final petals falls.

[bloodytittiez]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys [*gets shot*] I know I've never posted any of my writings before, even though I write fanfiction, but this has been collecting dust in my google docs page for nearly two years and it was too good to not share it with you my little kinky freaks/lh/aff (at least I think so)! I hope you enjoy this little smut fic - English isn't my first language so excuse some possible spelling and grammar errors, please... also, KEEP IN MIND THIS WAS A DRAFT! There's a lot of time skips and I doubt I'll ever finish it.

CONTENT WARNING: AFAB reader, vaginal sex, oral sex, teasing, heavy dirty talking, sex without condom, consensual non-consensual, phone sex, masturbation, public sex, porn with plot.

———

Red and blue lights flickering outside, tree branches tapping against the snowy windows of the sorority house. The soft, slow tunes and delicious scents of cinnamon and ginger cookies flowing in the air...

Christmas, such a family centered holiday where there's only place for laughs and sweet surprises, was completely ruined yet another year by him.

It was the fourth time in the night the moaner called. You could see your roommates gag at the blasphemies and curses the stranger yelled at the phone to each one of them– while you seemed to enjoy them in secret.

《Nasty… F-Filthy piggy. Bi-Billy has a big juicy fat cock he k-knows you’d love to suck on… I-It’s dripping wet and it f-fits in your mouth.》

You crossed your legs as ‘‘Billy’’ —you had no idea if that even was his actual name— spat nonsensical words for the sake of feeling some friction against your womanhood. His descriptions were so detailed that you could picture them perfectly in your head.

《Billy w-will kill each one of you… Tonight.》He breathed out in a way that felt almost a threat, his sentence getting distorted when it reached the other side of the line. Everyone could tell he was all tensed up for the way he gripped the phone.

《I can’t stand you anymore, you fucking pig!》

《Pig… P-piggy! Naughty piggy…》 The moaner repeated, mocking a very stressed out Jess Bradford.

《Jess.》 You interrupted the leader of your group with a serene expression, finally standing up from your seat when you felt her anxiety grow. 《Let me take care of the situation.》 You suggested while you took the device out of her hands before she would say anything, and covering the speaker you added something;

《Why don’t you guys go to bed? It’s way too late already.》

《But we can’t leave you alone with that creep!》 Jess exclaimed.

《Don’t worry about it. Someone has to confront him already and that’s going to be me.》 You answered, already building up enough courage to complete the task. 《Please.》 You looked up at the concerned eyes of every girl occupying the room while you could hear Billy talking to himself on the other side of the line. 《You girls need some rest. It’s been a long day.》

Jess and the rest stood there in silence, trusting your words. She gave you a small nod and parted her lips to articulate a silent ‘‘thank you’’ before leaving the room with relief. You knew she didn’t have enough energy to argue, and so did the rest.

You smiled when you returned to the call, grabbing the phone with distinguished elegance in your movements. A soft smile formed in your face and felt a sudden flock of butterflies inside of your stomach. It definitely wasn’t a good idea to play along with who you knew was a creep, but a part of you loved the thrill and danger in doing that. You could hear your sweet mother’s voice in your head begging to stop what you were doing as you answered Billy. To hell with her warnings of not picking up the phone to strangers!

Tonight was going to be different. May this be your very own Christmas gift…

《Hello, Billy.》 You tried not to come off as rude at first.

《Yes, yes… Hello there, my darling… It's so nice to hear your voice. You sound like an angelic creature.》

《Do you know who I am?》 You asked.

《 Yes... Yes, I know you. The quietest slut of the bunch. Billy loves to see your pretty ass swaying around when you walk. Yes… You filthy, nasty whore love to tease Billy’s cock. I know that well. Billy saw this naughty piggy touch herself… S-saw you cry out for Billy in the intimacy of your room.》

You couldn’t help but fluster at his obscene rambling and switched the phone to your other hand. You were the kind of person that would move around constantly when you felt nervous about something. In this case, a stranger that saw you masturbate plenty of times before. Poor you… How many times exactly did Billy hear you pronounce his name under muffled moans? You could feel your heart rate at the top of your throat, flooded in embarrassment as he playfully mocked you.

But; back to his confession though, you definitely couldn’t deny something that was completely true and after spending some seconds in silence you finally spoke up, a cigarette being held in between two of your shaky fingers so you could calm yourself down.

《Would you like me to do it now? Touch myself for you?》

《Yes. Yes. YES!》 He demanded in an almost feral manner.

You nodded in response to his pleas as the flame of your lighter lit the cigarette and kept paying attention to his delicious blasphemies. You were enjoying the moment more than you would like to admit. 《Touch yourself f-for B-Billy...》 He insisted, despair breaking in his voice. 《I want to hear your sweet moans like when you finger yourself alone.》

You held the phone between your ear and your shoulder, letting one of your hands completely free and trailing down to your skirt as the mysterious man dictated. 《Roll your skirt up… Billy wants to see your juicy ass aswell.》

Your pussy soon got filled with two of your fingers, exploring every inch of your insides.

You were so warm…

So wet…

It was hard to believe how turned on you could get by the phone calls of a creep. Being manipulated in such ways by a man that you'd never seen before.

《I'm doing it, Billy…》 You sighed, moaning his name under your soft breath. 《I'm touching myself.》

The mysterious man groaned and panted on the other side of the line, incapable of forming coherent words. 《Move the phone down to your pretty slick… Billy wants to hear the sound of your wet cunt.》

His voice sent chills down your spine while you placed the speaker close to your pussy, fingering it with oh, such passion in every one of your circular motions. Obviously, you made sure that the sound of the friction of your digits was audible enough for Billy.

《Fuck…》 He groaned once more. 《I want to taste your pretty pink cunt… Oh Y...Yes… I will. I bet it tastes as sweet as you do. B-Billy wants to lick your tits and your round juicy ass.》 The man chuckled with a childish tone as you could hear him stroking his length while getting indulged in his fantasies. 《Suck on your nipples too… Squeeze those tits ‘till they turn red like two christmas ornaments…》

His words made you shove your fingers even deeper in you. You were getting too carried away right when you heard the mysterious man hang up the phone.

You grabbed it close to your ear, wondering what happened.

《Hello? Billy? Are you still there?》

Only the empty beeping of the phone answered you, leaving you completely disappointed and wet.

You took a deep puff of your cigarette and hung up the phone in return when you got tired of listening to the dull melody of the lost connection, then mumbled something and decided to go to your room for some rest too. Maybe Jess and Barb were right after all, there was no point on wasting your time on that fucking moaner guy you all couldn’t stand.

You turned off the lights outside, blew the candles in the living room and grabbed a little candy cane from the coffee table. You thought the night was over and your only comfort now was a little sugary treat.

But, when you suddenly walked into a dark corner of the stairs, a pair of big hands pinned you on the wall. An audible yelp escaped your lips as you heard a man's voice speaking in an attempt to reassure you. It was the same one you'd always hear on the phone.

《Shh… S...Shhh… It's okay… It's me, Billy.》

The man caressed your cheeks in a sloppy manner and covered your mouth. 《Pretty piggy… Where do you think you are going? Billy isn't finished with you yet… There are so many nasty things Billy wants to do to you…》

You tried to pick small bits of his face in the darkness when he slowly released you from his grasp. It felt rather strange to see him in person.

A tall figure partially hidden in the shadows, green eyes that would stare directly into your soul and long, curly hair caressing the sides of his forehead. Billy's description didn't fit his personality at all. He had the looks of a gentleman but the mouth of the devil. Although; you had to be honest about something. You still wanted to fuck Billy despite of his looks. They didn't matter much to you when his low and menacing tone is what drove you absolutely crazy for him at first.

His hot breath hitting against your neck soon turned you on again.

《Billy… I thought you weren't interested in me anymore. Why did you hang up on me?》You pouted, wanting to tease him as an act of revenge.

The way you said those words, with such a sweet yet innocent tone made the man react in ways you exactly wanted him to.

《N...No. Billy came a-all the way here to see you. Billy craves your body.》

You dragged his fingers across the line of your lips as an excuse to turn him on as well. You liked the way he sounded, so nervous. He could break down at any moment and you liked that.

The warmth of his digits along the surface of your puffy lips, bringing goosebumps across your whole body. You parted your lips and spoke again.

《How much do you crave my body?》 You attempted to lick his index finger to which got you a slight moan in response.

《S-So much...》

《Show me then, Billy. I’ve been wanting to do this for the longest time…》

You finally confessed while you rolled your tongue out of your mouth and placed his finger on top. You sucked on it gently from the base to the tip.

———

Billy yanked your hair with such strength, dragging your puffy velvet lips to his dripping cock. His tip forced them open and soon his shaft filled your mouth hole.

Strands of hair tangled up around his fingers, both of you now locked together for god knows how long. You made the man shiver with anticipation as his tip brushed the back of your throat, leaving it hot and irritated.

You couldn't help but gag and drool repeatedly for he didn't give you a single break. But you didn't mind. You finally had what you craved.

‘‘Billy's juicy fat cock…’’

His words showed up in your brain, accompanied by a clear image of the cock that was stuffing your mouth in that very moment. Your horny mind couldn't help but recap every single quote that made you fall madly in love with him. Blame it on your degrading kink as a result of many failed relationships.

Billy bent you over with the same strength as before, ripping a yelp out of your throat while you grabbed the handrails so you wouldn't fall down the stairs and cause a scene.

Your ass now completely exposed was facing him, rubbing against his wet cock.

The man leaned over you and hands crawled around your stomach to hold you firmly as he would start rocking his hips at a slow pace. His left hand roamed free around your belly and later your clit, while his right one stayed busy pinching and twisting your nipples ever so slightly.

Billy could make you scream at any given time.

He could definitely break you. Turn you into his pretty little fucktoy, but having sex in a set of stairs definitely required some precaution.

《Billy. We should move somewhere else…》You gasped as soon as you could catch some air and already felt your whole body sore from standing up there. 《What if someone wakes up and sees us here?》

《If someone sees us…》 He repeated. 《I…It won't matter. I want them to see YOU moaning f-for Billy. Want them t…to see just how good you can take a cock.》

He purred into your ear as he covered your mouth to force your jaw open widely for him. Holding your breasts better around his hands he rubbed them together and squeezed them. You felt his wet cock pressing against your folds, desperately trying to make its way inside of you. God it felt so good to finally experience how all of his sinful threats came true one by one. Little whines came out of your mouth when you tried to accommodate to his size but he didn't let you. He was more than aware of his power and chuckled playfully.

《Billy's cock feels so good inside of your wet cunt. You are taking it so well. So tremendously well. Don't stop squealing, my little dirty piggy.》

You obeyed and let out a bunch of more moans caused by the pain of quick and deep thrusts. It was embarrassing to echo your satisfaction to an empty living room... And definitely hoped the girls closed their doors upstairs.

———

Billy noticed the red and white swirled candy that you were holding in your hands and took it from you while he turned your body around so that you could face him now.

Still holding your waist, he licked the candy cane until it would remain a little damped. You were staring at his eyes in a mix of excitement and curiosity the whole time and snickered.

He spreaded your folds and shoved the candy inside.

《Billy's gonna make this wet cunt even tastier.》

———

The chorus of early birds singing outside and gentle sunrays kissing your face woke you up the next morning. You stretched your arms, your legs and then… A pinch on your sore waist fully woke you up. You remembered what happened last night soon after that and smiled.

You sat up in bed and noticed a candy cane wrapped its plastic with a small green bow and a note. You had no idea when and how it got there, perhaps Claude; the sorority cat stole it from the silver platter downstairs and left it in your bed as a mere coincidence. You elongated your arm to pick it up and brushed strands of hair behind your ears to read it better.

It said ''Merry Christmas. With love, Billy'' in a surprisingly tidy calligraphy.

His name made your heart flutter and cheeks aroused when you remembered more details about last night.

You unwrapped the candy cane and tasted it, its sweet flavor melting in your tongue.

Maybe Christmas wasn't completely ruined this year.

[2knightt]

may u do the gang with a significant other who is in a popular band or actor? up to four preference of course. lots of love!

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ darling, can i be your favourite? ⋄ 𓍯

REQUESTED: reader’s the coolest person ever and the gang’s their biggest fan!

tags/warnings: headcanons, gn!reader, reader is a singer/popstar!reader, gang is obsessed, reader is big time famous, near the end they got shorter because my tumblr started lagging.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ hey my love !!! seen this after i posted and knew i had to get to work 🙂‍↕️ also while i was working on this, i got a req for actor!reader..ur in luck🤭

—

johnny cade

╰┈➤ now playing. — espresso, y/n l/n

how he bagged you, the world may never know. like seriously.

YOU’RE ON THE BIG SCREEN AND YOU’RE IN THE RADIO AND YOU GO AFTER JOHNNY CADE??? everyone was shocked. lives were CHANGED.

“you’re dating who?”

“..y/n l/n?”

“in your dreams maybe???”

“fuck you?”

nobody believed him because you confessed to him over the phone when you were touring 😔! you realized you really liked johnny when you had to be away from him for so long.

so for like that period of time, it was just call after call of you two giggling back and forth.

the gang, swear to fucking god, knew he was talking to someone but they thought he was lying about who he was talking to

UNTIL YOU CAME BACK!!!!

Then they were all,

“what the fuck….”

“can i like—borrow a 20?”

“DAMN”

spoil him. take him with you. protect johnny cade with ur money or else. i find you.

but seriously, pleaseeee make sure johnny lives the life he deserves ☹️ since you’re a singer, you make a FUCK ton of money

put it to good use (spending it on johnny cade)

hey! you’re all he talks about!! HE DOESN’T STFU THAT HE’S DATING SOMEONE THAT’S FAMOUS.

“what ‘bout you, lil’ boy? you got someone?”

“hell yeah. y/n l/n.😇💯”

“..the singer?”

“damn right, ‘the singer’!”

listens to your music when he misses you!!

OH MU GOD WRITE A SONG ABOUT JOHNNY CADE PLEASEEEE AND WEAR HIS JEAN JACKRT ON STAGE PLEASEEEEEEE

i can’t stress how much he loves you

he has photos of you everywhere. and anywhere.

steals magazines you model for to promote your albums<3

dallas winston

╰┈➤ now playing — nonsense, y/n l/n.

why would you pick him.

shame on you. you have celebrities flocking to you and you pick some guy in tulsa who’s in jail every friday.

tsk tsk. whatever makes you happy!

ANYWAYS

also, never shuts the fuck up about you. like seriously, somehow, you’re always the topic of conversation.

“yeah, that’s crazy that she slashed your tires. my LOVELY Y/N would never tho. did you know they sing? you’ve probably heard of ‘em-“

MAKES YOU WEAR HIS RINGS WHEN YOU PERFORM!!! AND SOMETIMES HIS LEATHER JACKET!!! DALLAS DGAF IF IT’S DIRTY OR NOT

He needs those freaks in the crowd to know you’re HIS—not theirs just because you’re famous.

if you ever collab with a dude he’s gonna fucking lose his mind i’m not kidding

“YOU’RE GOING TO THE STUDIO WITH WHO???”

“i told you-“

“yeah, i know. lets go.”

dallas invited himself btw.

dedicate a song to him and he’s literally gonna make EVERYONE listen to it. when it comes on the radio, he’s IMMEDIATELY turning up the volume.

“looking at you got me thinkin’ nonsense.”

“that’s about me, by the way.”

“WE KNOW.”

“YOU TELL US THIS EVERY DAMN DAY”

“yeah. where’s your partner that write songs about you? huh? take that shit up with someone else.”

IN HIS ROOM HE HAS SOOO MANY POSTERS OF YOUUUUUU

cannot believe he got so lucky and bagged you

he used to pray for days like these😭😭🙏

ponyboy curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — work song, y/n l/n.

yes, i did make your song more poetic than the rest. that’s just what ponyboy is into and gets him crying.

did he get lucky? yeah. does he acknowledge that every waking moment of his life and devotes himself to making sure you never feel the burden of having to perform daily?

yeah

helps you write songs sometimes. ponyboy naturally has a poets soul so USE IT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE

GUVE HIM A FUCKING OEN AND PAPER AND HE’S WRITING A HIT SINGLE

omgomg if you credit him while at your concerts he might faint<3333

spoil him and his brothers.

his brothers are included because you see how much they’re struggling and it literally pains you to see the love of ur life get so frustrated over money

sneakily put money into darry’s wallet when he isn’t looking and ponyboy might just kiss u right then and there

it’ll take awhile for him to accept the help, but when he does—he’s so grateful to have an angel like u in his life😭😭💔💔💔

“i love you. did you know that?”

“of course i do, pony.”

“i should tell you that more often.”

uses a photo of you as a bookmark btw. it’s you in his favourite outfit you ever wore, performing the song you made for him.

ponyboy’s obsessed.

shoves ANYONE off the tv to watch you perform. he doesn’t care. and the gang lets him<3 cuz they know how much you mean to their little pony!!

not without teasing. never without teasing. ponyboy is never fucking free

“soda, it’s my turn on the tv.”

“what? you tryna watch your girlfriend?”

“…shut up.”

“look at you! what a loverboy, huh? you loveeeee her, don’t you?”

“man, just get off the tv!”

watches & listens to everything you’re in. wether it be interviews, music videos, etc—he can probably quote it. every part.

he’s so obsessed with you it’s not fucking funny

sodapop curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — that boy is mine, y/n l/n.

it couple. genuinely.

you got soda more publicity and modeling agencies have definitely hit him up LMFAO

he most definitely has modelled with you for covers :3c

BUT OTHER THAN THAT

oh u better fucking believe that the DX is always playing your music

SODA DOESNT CARE IF HE’S NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH THE RADIO

he will. and he will be playing the song you made about him to remind the girls that go to flirt with him that he’s yours.

HE HAS A NECKLACE WITH YOUR INITAL ON IT AND YOU HAVE A NECKLACE WITH HIS INITAL!!1!1!1!1!1

flash it when paparazzi takes photos and he WILL put that photo in his wallet to show people when they ask about his partner.

CANT STFU EVEN IF HE FUCKING TRIED

soda makes u his whole personality

“sigh😔 y/n would’ve loved this beat..”

“SHUT UP ABOUT Y/N😒”

“NO?? I LOVE THEM!!!???”

LOVES PRACTICING UR CHOREOGRAPHY WITH YOU LMFAOOO

it’s so cute☹️☹️😔😔 soda might trip over his feet every once and awhile but he’s always laughing so hard with you when he does<3

darry curtis

╰┈➤ now playing — say yes to heaven, y/n l/n.

tries SOOOO hard to act like he doesn’t gaf that you’re singer but it’s so tough to not brag about it

the boys at work could be talking about their partners but when they go ask darry, he hides his grin and blush by looking down, running his hands through his hair.

“what ‘boutchu, kid? how’s the lover?”

“ah, y’know. they’re busy touring or in the studio.”

“eh?”

“oh—y/n l/n. they’re-“

darry cannot be stopped now. he won’t shut up about how great of a person you are, never letting the fame get to you.

ERAHHH HE STAYS UP LATE AT NIGHT TO WATCH YOUR PERFORMANCES WHEN YOU’RE AWAY!!!!!!! HE LOVES WATCHING YOU SWAY ACROSS THE STAGE!!

hehehehehe slow dance with him in the kitchen to ur unreleased songs you made about him…. 😈😈

PLEAEE HELP HIM FINANCIALLY PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

im begging you to just sit darry curtis down and try to convince him that, you giving him money to help around, isn’t an issue.

i don’t see darry moving out of the curtis house unfortunately, i think he will always view it as his parents house and it’s too sentimental.

so, don’t even bother asking him to move. but—do give him money. or sneakily pay the bills. whatever you have to do to help darry relax, please do it!!!

loves it when you sing slower/more relaxing songs

darry thinks it’s so attractive to hear your like soothing, breathy, and smooth voice.

he has a photo framed of you bowing toward the crowd below you, tightly holding the microphone that you had his name engraved in.

it’s currently beside his bed on his nightstand.

he looks at it every night before bed and every morning before work. <3

steve randle

╰┈➤ now playing — art deco, y/n l/n.

he’s feral. he’s fucking crazy about you.

“PUT ON THAT NEW Y/N SHIT‼️”

“why??”

“CAUSE I SAID SO?!1”

number one supporter. nobody comes close to him

AHHHH HE HAS A TATTOO DEDICATED TO YOU!!!! IT’S DEFINITELY A SONG LYRIC YOU WROTE ABOUT HIM IN UR HAND WRITING

when steve’s nervous he traces over it :3c

steve always finds himself, unconsciously, humming your songs while he works on cars!

i like to think his favourite colour is blue, so plsplsplspls wear blue (even if it’s a small accessory) to your concerts just so steve knows you’re always thinking about him.

he keeps little gifts, or rather the accessories you leave at his house, in a little box. he thinks they’re so cute and he will burn a building down before he lets anyone find out

two-bit mathews

╰┈➤ now playing — melting, y/n l/n.

“DID YOU KNOW I’M DATING Y/N? THE FAMOUS SINGER? YEAH, BET YOU WISH THAT WAS YOU😭😂!”

that’s every other sentence from his stupid lips!!

KNOWS EVERY LYRIC TO YOUR SONGS AND WILL SCREAM HIS FUCKING LUNGS OUT TO THEM!!!

attach a mickey charm to ur mic while you sing on stage and he’ll start foaming at the mouth..

two-bit’s all, “that’s for me.:mickey….me….me…mickey….”

he literally begs you to sing him to sleep

STEALS YOUR RECORDS/VINYLS???!!! HE HANGS THEM UP ON HIS WALL WITH SUCH CARE IT’S SO ADORABLE ☹️☹️

teach his little sister some of your dance moves and he might marry you tbh.

two-bit dreams of you and i’m so fucking serious

[bug-boy32]

Write some professor smut with Spenc x reader. Idk y I have a thing for that. It doesn’t have to be a big age gap. He’s young, college would be perfect, grad school even if you want to make the reader older. They can be going for anything I just want smut. I want him to have her riding his thigh after class or something.

I just need him. And smut. I’m not okay.

Meet me after class 🤎

Pairing: professor!spencerreid x fem!reader

Summary: After weeks of trying to break your favorite professor, he finally relents and you get your wish. After class. In his office.

Warnings: smut!!! Thigh riding, age gap (they are both adults just reader is a college student Spencer is a professor) semi public s3x! !!!MINORS DNI!!! I will tell your mama

Word count: 776

A/N: Thank you anon for this request!! I am so exited to start writing Spencer and I hope you all enjoy! ♥︎♥︎

Divider credits: @kithsune @cafekitsune

Want more like this??? ☞ my master list

It was no secret that Dr. Spencer Reid is your campus’s resident heartthrob. The professor had a constant flock of young women filling up his criminology classes at the beginning of each semester, and his effect was not lost on you.

Since the beginning of the semester you had made it your mission to gain the younger professor’s attention (sure he was still 10 or so years older than you but still, younger.) On the first day of class, you sit close to the front of class so he sees you when you wear low cut tops and short shorts.

But even after weeks of trying, you seem to have not yet caught the attention of your favorite professor. So, frustrated, you had nearly given up your efforts until that fateful afternoon. “Y/N will you please see me after class” Spencer spoke as he walked closer to your desk space. You quickly nodded thinking about what he could possibly need. You knew you had a good grade in his class and always turned in assignments on time. So maybe…just maybe…your efforts have paid off.

After class your body buzzed with excitement as you walked to Dr. Reid’s office across the dirtied carpets of the lecture hall. You knocked meekly, not wanting to seem too bold or too disruptive. He opened the door shortly, but surprised you when he practically shoved you into the small office space.

“U-uh ahem well Dr. Reid you asked to see me” you stuttered as you watched him pace his office space, seemingly contemplating his next move.

He sat down at his large desk chair and instead of answering your question he simply said “sit.” And pointed at his khaki clad thighs. “Sir I’m not sure what you mean I can just sit in this chair here.” You tried to respond but he quickly cut you off saying “No, sit here.” As he pointed to his lap again.

You tentatively moved closer to your professor and as soon as you were within arms length, his strong hands grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap. He leaned over your shoulder and whispered lowly, “You seem so shocked is this not what you wanted darling…’cause you can tell me no right now and I’ll stop.” You whimpered as he spoke and involuntarily writhed in his lap as you responded “N-no please don’t stop s-sir.”

“Good girl, now here’s what’s going to happen.” He continued to whisper. “I’m going to continue my work for while, and you are going to make yourself cum right here on my thigh. Then when I’m done…maybe you’ll get a reward.” He spoke, as you nodded dumbly at his words and the feeling of his breath tickling your ear. “I need to hear you sweet girl.” He teased. “Y-yes sir.” you responded As you began to move back and forth along his thigh.

He hummed satisfied as he started to type on his laptop. You buried your face in his neck as to not make too much noise and you promptly sped up your movements against his leg. You were careful not to bump your back against the desk and disrupt his typing but still, he slipped a hand beneath your cable-knit sweater and rubbed his thumb along your shoulder blade.

Your skin burned at his touch and the feeling encouraged you to increase the speed of your movements and hopefully reach your release faster. You could feel your wetness soaking through the panties you wore as your skirt rode up along your thighs, the delicious friction of your clit against his thigh only egging you on.

“P-please I’m so close.” You whimpered close to his ear, yet you elicited no response from your professor as he continued on typing. He simply hummed and you continued your efforts for what seemed like many more hours.

You could feel your release building within your lower stomach and you grind against him faster. Muffled against his shoulder you screamed out his name over and over as you reached your high, practically panting against his sweater vest.

“Good girl, such a good girl for me.” He praised as you came down from your high and began to catch your breath. His hand slowly trailing up and down your back in an effort to soothe you. When you had calmed down enough you looked down at where your soaked core met his thigh, and saw the mess you had made where his pants were darkened. He chuckled, which prompted you to look up at him as he spoke, “I think you earned that reward now darling hmm?.”

You could tell you’d definitely be seeing him after class more often from now on.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and likes always appreciated!! Comment your thoughts!! 👓🤎

[antinousletmehit]

hii, could I ask for something about Hermes being silly and playful with Reader? If possible, could it be something romantic and sweet? Thank you!

୨୧┇Pairing: Hermes x reader

୨୧┇Note: I hope you enjoy!! I don’t really know how to write for Hermes but he’s quite popular in my inbox.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the skies of Mount Olympus with hues of orange and pink. You were lounging on the steps of Hermes’ temple, waiting for him to finish one of his endless errands. The winged god was always flying here and there, delivering messages, playing tricks, or just causing general chaos.

“Finally!” you exclaimed when you saw him zip toward you, the little wings on his sandals fluttering furiously. He landed with a dramatic flourish, arms spread wide.

“Did you miss me darling?” Hermes asked, a mischievous grin plastered across his face.

“Maybe. But I definitely didn’t miss the noise your sandals make,” you teased, leaning back on your hands.

Hermes gasped, clutching his chest as though you’d mortally wounded him. “You wound me, my dear! These sandals are iconic. Legendary! A gift from the gods themselves!”

“Uh-huh, and yet they sound like a flock of angry pigeons” you shot back with a smirk.

He dropped down beside you, his grin softening. “You know, if anyone else said that, I’d have to prank them into oblivion. But you… you get a pass.”

“How lucky for me,” you replied, rolling your eyes. Hermes leaned closer, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, you’re more than lucky. You’ve caught the attention of the god of wit, charm, and devilish good looks. Some might say you’re blessed.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “Blessed? Sounds more like a curse with how much trouble you bring.”

“Oh, really?” he challenged, standing up abruptly. Before you could protest, he scooped you up in one swift motion, cradling you in his arms.

“Hermes!” you shrieked, laughing as he spun you around.

“Let’s see how much trouble I can really cause!” he declared, taking off into the air. The wind rushed past as he carried you effortlessly, his laughter ringing in your ears. “Put me down!” you cried, but your laughter betrayed you. “Say you missed me first,” he teased, holding you tighter as he flew through the air. “Fine, I missed you! Now put me down before I throw up on your legendary sandals!”

Hermes chuckles before quickly gliding down “There. Happy now?” he asked, his voice softer than before. You looked up at him, your heart still racing from the ride and the way he was gazing at you. “I guess I am… as long as you don’t take off like that again.”

“No promises,” he said, but his grin was tender now, more sincere. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers warm against your skin. “You know, you’re the only person who makes me want to slow down. To just… stay in one place for a while.” Your cheeks flushed, and you swatted his chest lightly. “That’s probably the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Well, don’t get used to it,” Hermes teased, though the way he leaned in and pressed a feather-light kiss to your forehead told you otherwise.

For a moment, the god of mischief was quiet, the world around you still. And for once, you didn’t mind waiting for him to come back. In his arms was exactly where you wanted to be.

[janananarei]

His Favorite Artist

Blind Gojo x Reader

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾ ༻✧༺ ≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

Genre: Fluff

CW: SFW, Fem! Reader

Note: Yayy, my second work! It's not as long as the first one, but I really just wanted to write fluff. Feel free to send any requests since I have no idea what to write next.

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾ ༻✧༺ ≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

Warm sunlight hits Satoru's skin as he navigates his way to the stairway. He had won his battle with Sukuna at the cost of his vision, he had to retire after and learn to live not being able to see anything. Luckily for him, his wife was there with him to help adjust to his new life. Living at the countryside, not needing to worry about any curses or curse users, and finally having the life he had always wanted.

Once he touched the familiar railings of the stairs, he slowly steps one foot down and follows the other. He takes his time, almost reaching the last step when suddenly his foot got stuck making him lose balance. A loud thud was heard, and you quickly stop whatever you were doing to check it out. There at the bottom of the stairs lays a groaning Satoru as he rubs his head.

"Satoru! Are you okay? Why didn't you call me?" You ask as you kneel beside him and check his head for any bruise. "Sorry, I thought you were busy and I didn't wanna disturb you." Satoru feels your soft hands grab his arm and pull him up, securing them around your shoulder. "Can we go outside? I've been cramped all day in our bedroom."

"Of course sweetheart. I've also baked a fresh batch of cookies that I'm sure you'd love." You lead him to the door and open it. Satoru feels the fresh breeze hit his face and he sighs in satisfaction, feeling the warm sunlight once more. You lead him to sit in a chair, and grab one of your own. Satoru feels at peace, only hearing the soft swaying of the trees and grass, no growling and groaning from curses to be heard. His arms only feeling the warm sun and the light breeze, clean from the blood of curses. And his eyes, not overwhelmed by information and cursed energies. Although, he was quite disappointed not being able to enjoy the view with you, only being able to see a blank canvas. He still feels the grief of losing his sight and not ever being able to enjoy seeing the world, looking at how grown his students are now, and appreciating your beauty. There is still a feeling of uselessness in his mind as he is no longer able to perform his duties and uphold the title of being the strongest.

"Satoru, do you want me to describe what we're looking at right now?" He feels your soft hands hold his and he smiles. "Of course darling, paint the world for me." He squeezes your hand.

"We're surrounded with trees and flowers of all sorts, giving color to the land. The sun is setting over a lake, painting the sky a beautiful orange hue, while the water reflects the beauty of the sun. In the distance, there is a flock of ducks resting by the shore. Our home is just right beside us, with a bird's nest lying on the roof. Everything is peaceful and quiet." As you further explain the scenery, Satoru imagines the world that you describe it to be. And he now remembers that so long as you are with him, his canvas would never be blank and devoid of life.

You feel him squeeze your hand, so you stop and look at him. You can see the wonder and softness in his eyes, as he continues to stare at the sunset. "What would I ever do without you." He spoke softly.

You smile and lean your head onto his shoulder. Silence taking over the atmosphere, as you both bask in the sunlight. At that moment, Satoru thinks that the world is beautiful.

[a-leg-without-fear]

No Fucking Way (pt.2)

and here's part two!!! thank you all SO MUCH for the support you've shown my writing. giving @sukinix a tag because they asked to be notified when this drops. love y'all!!

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 6.8k

Warnings: cursing, PTSD struggles, panic attack mention, and even more adorableness

Series: No Fucking Way

“I want you to name him,” you repeated. Logan stepped a pace away from you, hands raising in surrender.

“No. No fucking way,” he said. You flicked water at him as you finished rinsing off the soapy kitten below you. Logan scoffed at your reaction, moving around you to sit on the lip of the tub, “I ain’t naming a cat that’s not mine.”

“Who’s to say the cat isn’t yours?” you teased. You reached behind you and grabbed a fluffy, green towel from a hook screwed into the wall. Drying your hands, you turned off the faucet and inspected your work on the absolutely drenched kitten huddled in the sink. Blue eyes still squinted, large ears pointing straight up, gray and white fur plastered in one smooth ball around its little body.

“I say it’s not. I don’t want a cat,” Logan said. You gave him a look that said sure you don’t over your shoulder as you scooped the cat in the towel. The little purr factory was sure to bore holes in the towel with the strength of the buzzing. It nuzzled its little head against the towel in an attempt to get water out of its ears.

“Even one as cute as this fluffy guy?” you asked, attempting to reason with the forever-grumpy man sitting on the tub. He ran his fingers through his ruffled hair then placed both hands on his knees.

“How can I tell if he’s fluffy? He’s fucking soaked, doll,” Logan replied. 

You sighed, eyes rolling up to the white ceiling. Sure, you loved Logan. You loved him more than life itself. But Christ could he get on your nerves.

“Your understanding of physics never ceases to amaze me, darling,” you said in a singsong manner. A humorless laugh barked from Logan’s chest. The cat looked over to him, eyes widening slightly at the sudden noise, ears perked forward.

“What’re you lookin’ at, cat?” Logan asked. His question was answered with a small “mrraow?” from the now mostly damp kitten. He scoffed at the small creature, “Now it’s sassing me.”

“He’ll sass you less if you give him a name,” you said. A rough grumble echoed in the tub as Logan stood. Boots clacked across the tiled floor as he moved to stand next to you again.

“Alright, you know what? You said he’s fluffy, so that’s his name. Floof,” Logan said. You arched an eyebrow at him, the kitten looking up at him with narrowed eyes.

“...Floof? Really?” you asked. Logan huffed and threw his hands up in frustration.

“You don’t like the name, change it!”

“No, no. I like it. Just didn’t expect that to come from you,” you said, giggles building in your chest. 

Logan glared at you, grumbled “whatever,” then stormed out of the bathroom. The kitten, or Floof, watched him leave. His gray and white fur was getting more fluffy the more you dried him with the towel. You assessed the cat in your hands.

“Floof. Yeah, I like it. How about you?” you asked. Blue eyes blinked up at you. 

“Maaoww.”

“Good.”

~~~~1 week later~~~~

It was no surprise that Floof became the favorite among students. Whenever the kitten walked into a room, the children would immediately flock to the furball and give it so much love, the professors started complaining about lack of focus within the student body.

Cat trees and scratching posts were a permanent fixture in nearly every room, felt obstacle courses adorned some of the common areas’ walls, there were even pots of cat grass growing in Charles’s study. Floof was free to wander into any part of the mansion, so the students had adapted to looking at the floor whenever they walked to and from class, not wanting to step on the six-week-old kitten.

The only person throughout the entire mansion who hadn’t taken a shine to the newest member was Logan. Of course it was. Mr.Grouchy hated fun, as you knew.

It didn’t help matters that whenever he would style his hair, you would compare his hair tufts to Floof’s ears. You even went so far as to take pictures of both Logan and Floof, without Logan knowing, and edited them to be side by side so you could show Logan the likeness. That had earned you an irritated “they’re not cat ears!” and the cold shoulder for a few hours.

“You look like his dad, Lo,” you said through a fit of giggles. Logan sat in one of the leather armchairs of this particular sitting room. Lit cigar clutched in his left hand, right hand raised to push away Floof should the cat get too close, ankle crossed over his thigh.

“I’m not his fucking dad. I don’t have a cat,” Logan groused, scooping up Floof by the stomach from the armrest and placing the kitten back on the floor. The movement was met with an indignant “mooaaoow!”

“Uh huh. Yes dear,” you replied. You sat across from Logan, and the rather persistent cat, on the green-clothed couch. Shelves with a smattering of books lined the walls not overtaken by huge, bay windows. Streams of midday sun lit up the room. The only other person in this common area was Via, a pink sweater-wearing mutant with telekinesis and telepathy. She sat on one of the benches affixed to the bay windows. 

“Don’t ‘yes dear’ me,” Logan said. He lifted the cigar to his mouth and took a puff. Smoke curled around his head like a gray halo dispersed in the sun’s rays.

The bell around Floof’s neck jingled as the cat jumped onto the armrest again. Tiny, gray paws patted on Logan’s elbow. Logan huffed, grabbing the cat around the middle and setting him back on the floor. You watched the two over the mug you held in your hands.

“Cats are more attracted to people who don’t like them,” you mused, taking a sip of your coffee. Logan grunted in response. He pulled on the blue flannel he wore over his tank top. Floof paced back and forth by Logan’s foot.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?” Logan asked. He gently tapped Floof with the toe of his boot to push the cat further away. Another “maow!” met the action.

“Letting them make the first move instead of forcing affection makes them feel independent,” you explained. The gray fluffball sat in front of Logan, tail wrapped around its feet, and stared up at him. Logan glanced between you and Floof, a frown set deep in his face.

“But he likes the kids, and they’re grabbing at him all the time,” he argued. You snorted a laugh at Logan trying to reason with you. You set your mug down on its coaster and leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees.

“He’s a strange one. Maybe that’s why he likes you so much. You’re exactly alike,” you said, a mischievous smile growing across your lips. Logan took another drag from his cigar.

“We’re not exactly alike,” he said, blowing out a stream of smoke. 

You glanced up at the pointed hairstyle that Logan wore everyday. Two, dark, styled points on the sides of his head that faded into sideburns on his cheeks. You looked back down at Floof. His ears twitched as he took in the sounds all over the mansion. Two points on the sides of his head. You met Logan’s eyes again, leaning back and crossing your arms.

“Then explain the cat ears, Lo.”

“Stop it with the fucking cat ears!”

~~~~1 month later~~~

For some reason, the beginnings of a presidential election were taking place. Posters were hung on the walls all over the mansion, buttons had been made, flyers handed out, speeches given. Debates were even being held between students on the candidates. 

Well, candidate. Singular. There was only one creature running for office.

Floof.

Started by Crys, a blonde with super strength, and Eclipse, a green jacket-wearing girl who could block other mutant’s powers, the presidential campaign for Mr.Floofen von Floofypants was all the students could talk about. It didn’t help matters that Jean and Storm were working on ballots to be used for the upcoming election.

“All this for a cat is a little ridiculous, don’t you think?” Logan called down from his place on the steel ladder. He reached down and grabbed another thumbtack from your outstretched hand, “I mean, he’s not even the legal age to run.”

You and Logan were working on hanging streamers along the foyer ceiling. It was a day before the “election,” and most of the common areas had been decorated like they were taken from an American Dream magazine. Balloons, big banners saying “FLOOF,” party hats, and posters all bearing the red, white, and blue. It had definitely taken some convincing of Charles. Getting the Brit to yankee-fy his home was like getting Logan to let Floof in his lap.

“You’re Canadian. How do you know U.S. election law?” you asked. That earned a huff from Logan as he stuck the thumbtack through the blue streamer in his hands.

“I’ve been living in America longer than I did in Canada, doll. I’m practically a citizen,” he replied. He pushed on the thumbtack to ensure it was secure, then reached down for another. Floof, the electoral candidate himself, rubbed on your calf.

“Did you take the test?” you asked jokingly. Logan took the thumbtack from you, cocking an eyebrow at your question.

“What kinda test?” he responded. You breathed a laugh. Floof started pawing at your pant leg. You took the hint, scooping the kitten around the middle and holding him to your chest.

“The test to become a citizen,” you said. Logan rolled his eyes as he stuck the thumbtack through the streamer.

“Fuck no. Did the cat take the test?”

“He was born on US soil. He doesn’t need to,” you answered. The cat in question rubbed its chin on your fingers scratching at its neck. Vigorous purrs vibrated against your chest.

“I think he should take it if he wants to be president,” Logan said. You shifted your fingers to scratch at Floof’s pointed ears.

“And what exactly would be on a cat’s U.S. citizenship test?” you asked, laughing at the absurdity of this conversation. Logan grabbed another thumbtack.

“English comprehension, for one,” he said easily. You snorted, the noise disturbing the buzzing kitten in your arms. Floof looked up at you through squinted, blue eyes.

“Maow?”

“I think he comprehends English just fine,” you said, resuming your calming strokes on the kitten’s fluffy body. It seemed your disturbance was forgiven, the purrs resuming their intensity. Logan sighed.

“Is that so? Why don’t you ask him about his policies?” he suggested. The rest of the streamer was out of arm’s reach from his current position. He started climbing down the ladder, boots clanging on the metal rungs.

“That’ll have to wait for the debate tonight,” you said. Logan grabbed the ladder and moved a few feet towards the other end of the foyer. You shadowed behind him, both Floof and the box of thumbtacks in your arms.

“Who the fuck is debating against the cat?” Logan asked as he set the ladder down. You set Floof back on the floor to continue handing Logan thumbtacks from their plastic box. An annoyed trill came from the gray fuzzball.

“You are, Lo, if you keep it up,” you said. Logan glared at you, then climbed back up the ladder. He grabbed the limp, blue streamer and held it against the ceiling, reaching down for a thumbtack. You placed the brass pin in his palm, “Just imagine, two cats debating each other on their ideas of the flow of commerce. I’m sure it would be absolutely riveting.”

“I’m not a- you know what? I’m not gonna respond to that anymore. You clearly enjoy annoying me too much,” Logan grumbled. A wide, evil grin overtook your relaxed smile. 

“Took you long enough,” Storm said from behind you. The white-haired, brown-eyed woman stepped up next to you, her arms folded across her blue blouse. You met her amused smirk, then you both looked back up to Logan above you, “We’ve been waiting for you to give in since the beginning.”

“Beating a man into submission. How forward-thinking of you,” Logan said snarkily. Floof trotted over to the ladder and sat beneath where Logan stood. The kitten’s tail flicked back and forth along the wooden floor.

“Not so much ‘beating’ as getting you to see sense,” Storm replied. You snickered, digging in the box for another thumbtack, as Logan used his freehand to show Storm his middle finger.

~~~2 months later~~~

“Why are you feeding him that shit? It’ll make his fur all shaggy,” Logan called from his place at the breakfast table. Snow frosted on the window behind him, flakes steadily falling and glowing orange in the setting sun. 

A collection of snowmen sat on the fish pond’s bank. The little sculptures were a variety of shapes and sizes. Some being your stereotypical circular snowmen, others taking the shape of dragons or horses. The results of the art class you held outside yesterday.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, red glasses looking between Logan and Floof’s food bowl. He wore a yellow, wool sweater and brown slacks that complimented his cropped dark hair. He held a bag of store-brand kibble above the empty bowl.

“That knockoff bullshit ain’t good for longhaired cats, genius,” Logan said. He was leaning on his elbow propped on the oak breakfast table. That morning’s paper sat ignored next to his third coffee of the day. 

You sat across from him with Floof in your lap. One hand used to stroke along the steadily growing kitten, the other grading essays on Leonardo DaVinci your students had written. Your own mug was filled with your favorite tea.

“Why do you know so much about cat food?” Scott retorted. He set the crinkling bag of kibble back on the blue-tiled counter and faced Logan, hands finding their usual place on his hips.

“Look, all I know is that when you feed him that shit, he needs way more brushing than usual,” Logan explained, gesturing to the purring, gray fuzzball in your lap. Floof blinked slowly at Logan from across the table. You rested your chin in the hand you were petting Floof with, using your fingers to hide your growing smile.

“Well, it’s not like you’re the one doing the brushing,” Scott said indicatively. 

A few moments of silence filled the kitchen. The cuckoo clock hung above the sink ticked the seconds away. You looked at Logan with a knowing grin. Scott’s incredulous frown morphed into an ecstatic smile.

“Holy shit, you do brush him!” he exclaimed.

“Vampire’s usually busy with class!” Logan replied quickly, voice coming out frantic and desperate. You couldn’t hide the laughs that leaked through your fingers. Scott doubled over as he guffawed at Logan’s response.

“You-You brush the cat!” Scott wheezed, voice echoing from below the counter. Logan grumbled under his breath at both you and Scott, the two of you laughing like madmen. He grabbed the newspaper and opened it.

“Whatever,” he groused, pretending to ignore the cackles bouncing around him. 

Floof took offense to your shaking chest and slipped off your lap. His bell jingled as he crossed under the table to Logan, finding the grumpy man to be a much better spot to curl up. Your and Scott’s snickers were given new life when Floof hopped up and into Logan’s lap. Peals of roaring laughter, especially from Scott, surrounded Logan.

“Fuck you. Both of you,” he said. A tiny, gray paw patted at the air by Logan’s neck. Logan sighed, lowering a hand to scritch under Floof’s chin, “I don’t get any respect around here. Do I, bub?”

~~~4 months later~~~

It was a complete shock to everyone, the day you found out that Floof was a mutant. The cat had been growing at a healthy rate. Food was readily supplied, a never ending stream of affection followed the cat like a shadow, and a large number of toys were spread throughout the mansion.

So when Floof had walked behind your chair leg and appeared next to Logan in the doorway, all hell broke loose.

Hank and Jean had run tests on Floof’s blood to see if they could find the presence of an active X-gene. Drawing his blood, under the very close watch of Logan, and running it through their typical series of tests that all turned up positive. 

It was difficult for them to get any scans, x-ray or otherwise, of the cat as at the first clang or shudder of a machine, he’d appear upstairs or in the next room over.

“Damn thing just won’t stay still!” Hank exclaimed, blue fur frazzled and yellow eyes wide. His white lab coat was in a state of disarray you had never seen before. Jean sat on her office chair behind the lab’s computer. Her red hair was tied up in a loose bun, brown eyes scanning across the computer screen, lab coat perfect as always.

“You’re scaring him, asshole,” Logan said. He was leaning on a silver wall in the lab. Arms folded across his chest, leg crossed over the other, typical frown across his lips. This time, Floof had disappeared from being in the x-ray machine and appeared behind Logan’s legs. Logan stooped down to pick up the frightened cat.

“Then what do you suggest, o’ cat whisperer?” Hank asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. He rolled up his coat sleeves, white fabric bunching around his blue arms, as he reset the x-ray machine for the third time.

“I could sit in the machine with him,” you suggested. Both Hank and Logan’s gaze fell to you. You sat across the desk from Jean. You had been watching the whole exchange with a great deal of amusement. Hank sighed, lifting his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe, it’ll work,” he said. He replaced his glasses and gestured to Logan, “Lord knows this one’ll throw off the readings too much.”

Logan glared at Hank, hands buried in Floof’s long, gray fur. You stood from your chair and circled around the x-ray machine to Logan.

When you were met with hesitation from your partner, you paused. Logan’s dark brows were knit together, frown deepening across his lips, arms holding Floof tighter to his chest. You placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, he’ll be ok. It’s just some scans. And I’ll be right there with him,” you soothed. Logan puffed a gust of air from his scowl, the action rustling the fur on Floof’s head. The cat looked up at Logan with wide, blue eyes.

“I’ll make sure they’re quick,” Jean called from where she sat. You used the hand on Logan’s shoulder to massage soothing circles into the muscle.

Logan sighed, posture drooping, as he said, “Fine. But if he teleports one more time, that’s it. No more for today.”

“Of course, Lo,” you said. You gave him a reassuring smile. You knew all these tests were getting to him. Watching Floof get stressed over the large machinery and sharp needles reminded Logan too much of his past. Well, the parts he could remember. 

You tucked your hands between Floof and Logan, fingers running across long fur and flannel alike, and you pulled Floof against your chest. The usual intense purring that would buzz from Floof’s abdomen was nonexistent. You smiled again at Logan, who returned a smirk that didn’t meet his eyes, then turned to Hank.

“I’ll need you to lay down on the table. The cat, or… Floof, will sit in your lap. You’ll have to be very still, or you’ll throw off the scans,” Hank instructed. You nodded in response, approaching the x-ray machine. As you sat on the metal table you could feel Floof’s heartbeat speed up.

“Shhh, baby. It’s alright,” you cooed, lips pressed into the short hairs on top of Floof’s head. Floof rubbed his head against your chin. A small “mrraow” accompanied a few licks on your neck. 

You felt every single eye in the room on you, especially Logan’s, as you laid down on the table. Floof settled into the crook of your legs, feet tucked under his chest and tail wrapped around his paws. The epitome of a fluffy loaf. You ran your fingers across his back a few times.

“Alright. Try not to move,” Hank said, grabbing the handles at the foot of the table. You gave Floof one last scritch under the chin then placed your hands at your sides. Floof kept his eyes on you as both of you were pushed under the x-ray machine.

You ended up inside a long, metal tube. Lights lining the white metal started blinking on, one by one. Blue light filled your vision. You glanced down at Floof, who was still staring up at you. You slowly blinked back at him.

“Everything alright in there?” you heard Logan ask. His low voice ricocheted around inside the metal tube. 

“Yup. So far, so good,” you replied. Floof was sitting perfectly still in your lap. You continued to slow-blink at him.

“About to take the first set of scans. Keep him still,” Hank called from the other end of the machine. You hummed in response. 

A low whirring kicked on along the entirety of the tube. Floof’s pointed ears flattened against his head.

“You’re okay, we’re okay,” you said calmly. Your continued slow-blinking and soothing voice seemed to be working wonders. Other than his ears, which were now back to pointing towards you, he had remained perfectly still. There was a louder ca-chunk that slightly rattled the table near your stomach and made Floof flinch.

“That’s his top half done. How’s it looking, Jean?” Hank said.

“Looks perfect. Keep doing what you’re doing, vampire,” Jean replied. 

Floof remained perfectly still as the whirring picked up again by your knees. Ears perked up at you, blue eyes slowly blinking, claws only slightly digging into your jeans. The second ca-chunk didn’t even phase the cat. He just continued to stare at you. You could even feel the purrs building in his chest.

“Okay, got what I need! Go ahead and pull ‘em out, Hank,” Jean said. The blue lights surrounding you blinked off in sync as you felt the foot of the table rattle again.

The lights of the lab were nearly blinding when you emerged from the x-ray machine. You used one hand to shield your eyes while the other stroked along Floof’s back.

Logan was at your side in an instant. He scooped Floof into his arms and cradled the cat to his chest. Fingers scritching under Floof’s chin, nose buried in the fur on Floof’s back. Seemed the whole ordeal affected Logan more than you thought. You ran a reassuring hand along Logan’s arm.

“Why don’t you two head on upstairs? I’ve got it covered from here,” you said lowly. Logan gave you a once over, nodded, then carried the ball of fur in his arms out of the lab.

You sighed as you sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the table. Your eyes met Jean’s confused expression.

“Alkali,” was all you said. Jean quietly said “oh,” then turned her attention back to the computer. You pushed yourself off the table and moved to look over Jean’s shoulder, “Anything standing out?”

“Well, for one, you have horrible bone density,” Jean replied. You gave her arm a light smack. Jean laughed at your response, then continued, “Nothing in his skeletal structure is off. All of his joints are connected where they should be, cartilage is intact, nothing’s broken.”

“So his mutation isn’t physical?” you asked. Jean shook her head while biting her lower lip. 

“We’d have to do an MRI on his brain to tell for certain. But, as far as I can tell, he’s like me and Kurt,” she explained. You heard Hank scoff behind you.

“More similar to Kurt, I’d say. Both him and the cat are awful to analyze,” he said, laughing without humor. You turned to look at him, arms folding across your chest.

“At least Floof does it because he’s scared. Kurt does it to piss you off,” you said. Hank grumbled under his breath at that, seeming to recount all of the failed exams he’d given the Nightcrawler over the years. You chuckled at his disgruntled reaction.

“We should be good, vampire. Go check on Logan for me,” Jean said, drawing your attention away from Hank. You gave her a pat on the shoulder, then followed Logan’s path out of the lab.

The jarring difference between the basement and the mansion itself would be alarming to anyone who hadn’t spent decades living there. 

In the mansion, warm wood and plush furniture could be found in every room. Golden sunlight filtered in through grand windows, vibrant green plants in colorful pots decorated shelves and tables, beautiful paintings and cheerful pictures were hung on every available wall.

In the basement, however, steel lined everything. Chrome ceilings, chrome floors, chrome doors, even chrome furniture constructed the entire basement. High-tech gadgets, like state of the art computers and medical equipment, were reserved to be specifically used in the basement’s lab. Giant, metal doors hid training rooms and simulation areas the older students would utilize. And, what was often sought after and coveted, lay behind a door with a large, chrome x on it.

Cerebro. A circular room with a single, metal console in its center. An array of switches and buttons were embedded in the console. Wires ran to and from the console’s base and the platform it stood on. Sitting on its pedestal was the helmet Charles would put on when he used Cerebro. Metal rods and wires protruding from a chrome cap that glowed blue when in use.

Just beyond Cerebro’s door is where you saw Charles. His mechanical wheelchair whirred as he directed himself into the open room.

“Hey professor,” you said as you passed. Charles looked over his shoulder at you and smiled.

“Hello, my dear. I was just about to do the monthly search. Care to join?” he asked. He spun his wheelchair in place so he could face you. He wore a clean, blue suit and a pale yellow tie. His shiny, black shoes reflected the artificial white light that gleamed from lights set in the ceiling.

“I’d love to,” you replied. Your shoes clicked along the polished, chrome floor as you walked up to where Charles’s wheelchair sat. The hand resting on the chair’s joystick moved, spinning the chair to face into Cerebro, then matched your pace as you walked through the huge doors.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Logan,” Charles said, reading your mind like always. He didn’t do it out of malice or ill-intent. It was just second nature for him to hear the runaway thoughts of those around him. His bright, blue eyes peered up at you as you walked across the suspended platform, “Memories of Alkali always tend to make him anxious. Just give him time.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. Small, white lights on the sides of the platform flicked on as you and Charles walked further into the room. The enormous, paneled sphere that constructed Cerebro bounced the light all around you, giving the space a pleasant glow. 

You stopped just behind Charles as he rolled up to the console. You watched as he fiddled with a few switches and buttons, none of it making sense to you, before he looked back at you again.

“You know the drill. No moving,” he said through a kind smile. You gave him two thumbs-up, which made him chuckle, then clasped your hands together in front of you. 

Charles turned back to the console and lifted the helmet. The chrome glinted in the soft, white light, throwing strange reflections onto his aged face. He raised the helmet above his head, wires stretched near their limit, before he set the chrome cap around his head.

In an instant, the room around you melted away into an endless space of darkness. Clouds of black ink flooded your vision, the entire white room overtaken by a midnight sky. White dots started sprouting up amongst the darkness. First one, then ten, then millions and millions lit up the blackness until they formed constellations in the shape of the world’s continents. 

Everytime you got the chance to see Cerebro in action, it took your breath away. Watching as Charles connected with every human’s mind on earth was nothing short of incredible. Brief visions of people all over the world floated past in glowing apparitions. Ghosts showing glimpses into peoples’ lives flying by in rapid succession.

Red overtook the white as Charles focused on specifically mutants. Crimson stars blinked in the dark, taking up significantly less of the night’s sky than the humans’ white spots did. 

The visions flying past were now drenched in a red glow. One showing a girl, no older than three, playing with a barbie doll. Another showing a teenage boy flirting with a classmate.

Two silhouettes stood out amongst the chaos. Both female, both older in their teenagehood, but looking nothing alike.

The first was a taller girl. Hair smoothed back into a ponytail, arms as thick as tree trunks, skin reflecting light like a cluster of diamonds. A whisper of “Lindsay” from Charles gave a name to the face. Her apparition floated back amongst the constellations to land somewhere in New Zealand.

The second was a girl sitting on a rooftop. Her skin was coated in shimmering scales, eyes slitted like a snake’s, bat-like wings protruding from her back. She was curled up next to a gargoyle, surveying the city below her. “Brooke” was the name Charles said, then her image floated away and landed in Utah.

The red dots were snuffed as streaks of darkness flew through the air. Like coffee under a paper towel, the black ink overtaking the room disappeared into the console. Charles tucked his fingers under his helmet and placed it back on its pedestal.

“Right. Two new mutants. One in Utah, the other in New Zealand,” he said. He turned his chair around to face you again. A hopeful, gleeful look was painted across his face like a work of art, “I’ll send Scott and Storm to fetch them. In the meantime, have Jean drum up some high-strength pain reliever. Lindsay seems to have a migraine problem.”

“On it,” you replied, your own grin growing to match his. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and texted the details to Jean, following after Charles as he exited Cerebro.

“Two more students. Ah, I can’t wait! I have a feeling Vienna and Brooke will get along quite well. Not to mention how Crys and Daniel will take to someone like them when Lindsay arrives,” Charles said cheerfully. With the message sent, you stowed your phone in your pocket and focused on the professor. He continued to ramble on about the interactions he predicted to happen between the new and current students. You listened intently, fondness filling your chest like a warm breath.

The two of you entered the circular elevator, with cream-colored walls and a yellow light set in the ceiling, as Charles spoke. You felt the floor lurch as the elevator started to climb up to the mansion.

“Both Brooke and Lindsay seemed to be rather talented writers. Hopefully they’ll like the creative writing club. Oh, and they should enjoy the book club, too,” he said. The elevator door slid open to reveal the mansion’s first floor. 

Kurt, the blue-skinned and long-tailed teleporter, threw you and the professor a wave as he passed by. Several textbooks about religious studies were clutched in his clawed hands. You gave him a wide grin and a wave of your own.

“Afternoon, Kurt,” Charles chirped, smiling fondly at the German as the two of you passed by. A quiet “afternoon!” followed you and the professor as you walked toward the west wing of the mansion. You trailed after Charles for a few more paces.

“If you don’t need anything else, I’m gonna go check on Logan,” you said. You paused in the middle of the long, windowed hallway you and Charles occupied. He gave you a nod.

“Yes, please do. Give him my best,” Charles said. You gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, his wrinkled hand patting on the back of yours, before you made your way to the staircase in the foyer.

Several students greeted you as you walked through the mansion. Christopher, a dark-haired brainiac, and Josh, a brown-eyed boy with two extra arms, said a brief “hi!” before returning to the scattered chemistry homework in front of them. Mads, the short-haired plant bender, waved at you from where she knelt next to a plant with withering leaves. A subtle, green glow emanated from her palms as life was pumped back into the monstera.

While climbing up the grand staircase you noticed one of Floof’s campaign posters still pinned to the wall. Wide eyes stared out of a red, white, and blue drawing. You smirked, remembering how much the whole thing had annoyed Logan.

Rogue and Bobby gave you a brief greeting as you passed on the landing between opposing stairs. They continued down the carpeted staircase you had just climbed as they discussed seeing a movie together later that week.

When you reached your and Logan’s room, the third door on the left, you noticed it was firmly shut. Thinking it strange, you turned the brass knob and swung open the wooden door.

“Maaaooowww!” Floof yelled from where he sat next to the door. He gave your leg a quick sniff, then darted between your legs and into the hall behind you. 

Perplexed, you looked at Logan. He was sitting on your shared bed. Arms crossed over his chest, boots kicked off next to the bed, eyes closed as calming piano played from his phone’s speakers.

You slowly latched the door shut behind you, toeing off your shoes, and climbed into bed next to him. A rough grunt met the jostling of the mattress. You sat next to Logan, your back leaning on the wooden headboard.

You let silence hang in the air, only disturbed by the light song playing from the nightstand. When Logan got like this, stuck in his own mind, it was best to let him take things at his own pace. If you moved too fast he’d completely shut down. Which, having known him for at least two decades at this point, was something you could easily maneuver around.

After a few minutes you felt a rustle next to you. Logan’s arms uncrossed from his chest, eyes still closed, as the hand closest to you fitted into yours. You tangled your fingers with his. A few more moments passed, then you felt the weight of Logan’s head on your shoulder.

You pressed a soft kiss into his hair. He hummed in response, rubbing his cheek along the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

“Doing alright?” you whispered. Another minute passed, piano filling the room.

“Yeah,” Logan mumbled. The hand not clutched in yours was thrown across your waist. He pulled you against his body, face buried in the crook of your neck, “Yeah, now I am.”

You let your fingers nestle in the short hairs along his neck. Soft, soothing strokes along his skin that left him practically purring against you. 

“All the stuff with Floof dredge something up?” you asked. A beat, then Logan nodded against your shoulder.

“Medical stuff, ya know? It’s just… A lot,” Logan explained. He squeezed you tighter against his chest. You gave the crown of his head another gentle kiss.

“Take your time, Lo,” you breathed. You tracked the deep inhales that filled Logan’s chest and the smooth glide of his cheek on your shoulder. Good. Didn’t seem like a panic attack was brewing.

The two of you sat on the bed, cuddled against each other, light piano playing around you for another couple minutes. Calm, still settings like this were the best for when Logan was struggling with his past, you’d found. Breathing with him, gentle touches, and reaffirming words helped keep him grounded in the present.

You started chattering quietly about what the scans had shown. That nothing seemed abnormal about Floof, that the teleportation must stem from his brain, and that you apparently had low bone density. That sparked a brief chuckle from Logan’s chest.

After about an hour of the two of you huddled together, a light scratching came from the bedroom door. You sighed, head rolling back and thonking on the wooden headboard.

“Frickin’ cat,” you murmured under your breath. Logan reluctantly untangled his limbs from yours. He leaned back against the headboard, hazel eyes opening and looking at you.

“You wanted him,” he said, an amused grin growing on his lips. You groaned, pushing yourself off the bed and walking over to the door.

When you pulled it open, a gray and white furry bullet shot into the room. A chorus of indignant meows overshadowed the music coming from Logan’s phone. You scooped up the annoyed cat and moved back to the bed. Floof’s distinct, intense purrs rumbled against your chest.

“Hey, bub,” Logan said when you sat next to him. Floof squirmed in your arms until you finally released him, then the little shit jumped into Logan’s lap. Your mouth gaped open.

“Fucking traitor,” you gasped. Your despair was ignored as Floof circled himself a few times, paws kneading into Logan’s jeans, then curled up in Logan’s lap. Logan scritched under Floof’s chin.

“Sorry, doll. Guess he’s picked a side,” Logan said, cocky grin plastered on his stupid face. You huffed while curling your knees against your chest and thumping your chin on top.

“You’re lucky I love you, ya jerk. Or else I’d be fighting for that cat’s honor,” you grumbled. Logan laughed, the deep sound bouncing out of his mouth like a large bell.

“It wouldn’t be a fair fight. You’d win,” he said. Floof nuzzled into Logan’s palm, purring so strong you could feel it in your chest. You let your head fall onto Logan’s shoulder. You felt his cheek rub against your hair.

“Nah,” you said. You looked between Logan and Floof. Matching ears and hair tufts, smiling eyes filled with adoration, purrs and happy hums coming from both of them. Your initial grumpiness was overshadowed by a deep-seated adoration for the two of them, “You would.”

~~~~6 months later~~~

You stood in your and Logan’s shared room. Warm, wooden panels covered the walls decorated in landscape paintings. A black cat tree, about four-feet tall, sat in front of one of the windows by your bed. The pale green curtains were drawn just enough so only a sliver was left open for Floof, who enjoyed sitting on the top platform and watching the flying birds and bugs.

The rustling of clothes, caused by your rummaging, disturbed the peace in the room. You were digging around amongst Logan’s folded shirts in the wardrobe’s drawers. A white t-shirt sat on top of the wardrobe. Bold, black print reading “#1 Cat Dad” sat in the center front of the t-shirt, along with an image of Floof surrounded by a large, red heart. 

You slipped the t-shirt amongst the space you had made in the drawer then slid the wooden compartment closed. Confident in how well you hid the new article of clothing, you took a look around the room.

Pictures of you, Logan, and Floof sat on every available surface. Earlier pictures featured a frowning and distant Logan, who was uncomfortable being in a picture with the young kitten. But, as Floof got older, Logan was seen in more and more pictures with him. The two of them cuddling on the couch, Floof curled up on a sleeping Logan’s chest in bed, Logan holding Floof up like Simba in the Lion King.

A fond smile graced your lips. The man you loved most, an unerring grump, really did have a soft spot. Him and Floof had grown inseparable. When Logan walked into a room, the now full-sized, fluffy, gray cat was sure to follow. Whenever Floof needed to visit a vet, Logan was the one to take him. If Logan were to leave for a mission, Floof would consistently yell the entire time his pal was gone.

Several footsteps passing by your open door drew your attention from the pictures. You looked into the hallway at what had caused the noise.

Logan, hair styled in the classic two tufts, had Floof perched on his shoulder. The adult cat was draped over Logan’s flannel-covered back like a fluffy scarf. The pair reminded you of a mountain lion perched on a tall cliff.

Logan threw you a grin and a quick wave. You smiled, waving back, as your vision shifted to the swarm of children following Logan. Eyes wide with adoration for Floof, toothy grins on each child’s face, giggles exchanged between students.

As the crowd passed by, the long-haired cat meeting your eyes and letting out a soft “mraow,” it was hard to believe that there was a time when Logan had said “no fucking way” to Floof.

once again, so much love to the murdock tuna team!! you all fill me with so much joy on a daily basis. i'm so incredibly thankful to each and every one of you :) also, here's what the Floof 2024 posters look like

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[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

can you write something w vessel praising reader like super lovey sex 🥺

❝sweet little bunny❞

➵ “you’re doing so good for me” —❤︎

pairing: vessel x gn!reader

theme: smut ❣︎

a/n: ofc i can ♡︎ the vessel stans have really flocked to my page now huh? hope you enjoy !!

cw: penetration. pet names. praise kink. no gendered language for reader’s body.

┅✦┅

oh my god, fluffy sex with vessel??? yes please holy shit??

this man is intimidating as fuck, but goddamn can he be an absolute sweetheart in the sheets

whenever he’s in the mood for something more vanilla, he’s a lot more quiet

short breaths and gasps, letting out long, deep sighs when he cums, whispering your name like a sacred prayer whenever he’s close to climaxing

goddamn this man sounds heavenly when he’s making you feel good

vessel’s voice is also a lot more soothing, with a twinge of poetic flair to his words whenever he’s praising you

always being so gentle with you <33 we love to see it

he always puts your pleasure first too. drilling his cock into you in such a sensual manner that has you seeing stars

and you can still feel the intimacy and affection from him, it’s such a surreal experience

“that’s it, baby. you’re taking me so well…”

you could only softly whine as you felt vessel’s hard shaft move deep inside of you. his movements were slow and sensual, but his rhythm had you on edge, and writhing underneath his grasp, begging for more.

“there… i got you.. fuck you look so good like this, taking my cock like the good little bunny you are.” he hissed out in pure euphoria, his hips pistoning inside of your hole in a way that had you seeing stars.

your wrists were being held tightly to the mattress by vessel, and you could only squirm in a lustrous need as he moved inside you. “vess… vess please..”

“shhh, it’s okay… i’m right here..” vessel whispered in a reassuring manner, dipping his head between the space in your neck to affectionately nip at your soft skin, leaving love marks as he trailed down.

his hands moved from your wrists to your hands, his fingers interlocking with yours, squeezing your hands with a loving grasp.

that simple action was enough to make you whimper in pure ecstasy, it was almost enough to distract you from how his dick was buried deep within your love canal.

vessel lived for this kind of pleasure.

this was the kind of love he loved to give to you.

he wouldn’t be this affectionate and attentive to anyone else but you. if it were anyone else, he couldn’t give less of a damn… but you… oh you were just a different story.

your presence was just so captivating, entrancing vessel in a dreamlike state every time he made love to you. you were his drug, so sweet and addicting.

and he was going to show that to you no matter what.

“shit, baby. you’re so tight around me… fuck.. i love it so much..” he moaned softly into your neck, his hips moving slightly faster. “i love you so much.”

his sweet words had you moaning like crazy. you couldn’t help it, the way he spoke to you like you were some kind of ancient deity was enough to get your legs shaking.

“f-fuck… vessel.. please..”

“please what, honey? tell me… tell me what you want.”

looking through the slits of vessel’s artistic mask, you could see nothing but pure love and lust clouding his eyes, and that just made the arousal in your core grow stronger.

“please.. harder..” you begged breathlessly, voice barely above a whisper.

vessel cursed silently at your words, and his hips rolled into you slowly, hitting a spot that had your legs spasming.

he smiled softly, and bent down to capture your lips in a loving kiss, before whispering. “of course, darling.”

and he moved even faster.