#he will have to be more mature and responsible

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US - 02

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 3.2k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

You lift your eyes to him. Your conversation had already been weird, but you hadn’t expected him to drop a bomb like that. What are you supposed to reply to that? Instead, you stare at him, not knowing what to say or what to do. He seems like he’s waiting for an answer, but you don’t have any for him.

“I’m sorry,” is all that came out of your mouth.

“For what?” he asks as you take a deep breath, looking at the floor and nervously chewing your bottom lip.

“For wasting four years of your life.” You raise your shoulders before waiting for a reaction from him. But instead, he starts to chuckle, shaking his head.

“Is that what you think of us? That our…” He pinches his lips, searching for an alternative to ’love' “our relationship was a waste?”

“I don’t know. We were kids,” you reply, as his eyes seem to burn the side of your face before you see him take a few steps back.

Do you think your relationship was a waste? No. He was your first love. You experienced all your first times with him. First date, first time, first heartbreak. Jungkook sighs, shaking his head.

“I loved you,” is all that could slip from his lips as your eyes finally met his.

 “I loved you too,” you whisper, feeling your throat clenching. And your words seem to comfort him a little. He needed to hear it. Even if you had told him multiple times back then.

“I…I’m going to be around more often.” He informs you, with one hand in his pocket and the other pulling the beer to his lips. “I don’t want us to be like all those exes who hate each other. Can we be friends?”

You never thought you would hear him say that one day. But you’re relieved. Between you, Jungkook was always the most mature.

“Do you think we can be friends?” You ask, arching a brow as he chuckles, raising his shoulders.

“We both moved on.” The tattooed man tilts his head.

“You literally just asked me to give you the reason for our breakup from 7 years ago." You roll your eyes, but he simply smiles.

“I’m curious.” He takes a step closer. “I just want to understand where I did it wrong for you to leave me without an explanation. Was it because of my snoring?” He jokes to lighten the mood, and you give him an amused look.

“I used to fall asleep to your snoring,” you retort with a slight smile.

“You’re the first girl— woman who’s not bothered about it.” he chuckles, shrugs, and sits on the grass. You imitate him, leaning against the wall next to him.

People can be annoyed by the snoring, but you have always liked his. The first week after your breakup, you didn’t sleep well with the silence surrounding you. Seven years later, you still leave the TV on at night.

“So… friends?” He asks, tilting his head in your direction. You hesitate for a few seconds before taking the hand he is offering and giving it a squeeze.

“Friends.”

 “How’s your work?” It must be stressful to have so many responsibilities as a shop owner.” Jungkook tries to start a conversation, and you know you need to keep it going since he took the first step.

“I’m…grateful. I worked hard to do what I love.” You reply, pushing your dress down as you try to find a comfortable position without showing your private parts to the few guests around. Jungkook noticed, and he took off his jacket to cover your legs, even though you tried to refuse. That’s just how he was—genuinely kind without ulterior motives, “Thanks,” you mumble. “What about you?”

“I fixed some computers for grannies,” he nods, both of you laughing softly. “I applied for a job at the government, but self-employment is quite tempting. I'm not suited for a 9-5 job.”

"You were never built for that," you shake your head. Taking a sip of your champagne, you grimace, and leave the bottle between the two of you

“Tell me about it.” He laughs, finishing his beer. “I need to settle down properly before thinking of working for myself.”

“Where are you staying at the moment?”

 “Jimin’s.” He raises his shoulders. “I do jobs here and there, as I said. But my degrees are not just for decoration. I’d better find a good use for it.”

“I can’t believe you really found studies to be a hacker,” you laugh as he looks at you, amused.

“I’m a pentester,” he corrects you, earning eye rolls from you.  

“You’re hacking people to see if their security works. That’s the same.”

“Except, I do it legally.” He teases, lifting his finger.

“Right. That changes everything.” You add sarcastically, not feeling his admiring eyes on you. “At least you do your dream job.”

“I do.”

“We should go back to the party,” you suggest sighing and getting up as Jungkook hums, mirroring you. You hand him back his jacket, saying, “Thanks for that,” and he nods.

“No need to thank me,” he replies, pulling it back on his shoulders as you two walk to the door. “Hey. Do you offer a discount for new friends?”

You raise an eyebrow at his words, your eyes falling on his inked forearm.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Just some filling and a few colorings,” he explains, showing you the blank space between his tattoos. “My old tattoo artist sucked. I’m looking for a new one.”

Some part of you knew he was just making excuses, as his tattoos were perfectly fine. They need a few fillings, as he said, but otherwise, they look great.

“I double the price for the exes, actually.” You retort, and he laughs.

“Damn, Nabi, who hurts you?” He jokes, and you roll your eyes before freezing at the nickname. A few of your friends call you Nabi. The ones who are close. Hearing it from him makes your stomach almost drop. He doesn’t seem to see it. And it was for the better.

“Ask Jimin for the shop’s address. I’ll see what I can do for you.” You mumble, and he nods, pulling down his sleeves. “I need to go back to the bride. You know how dramatic Hyesun can be. She’ll think I abandoned her.”

“Right. Thanks, Y/N. I really... enjoyed our conversation.” He says sincerely, earning a slight smile from you.

“Me too. See you around... friend.” You wave at him before walking back to your friend group.

You sit next to Hyesun at Namjoon’s coffee shop. They were back from their honeymoon a few days ago, Hwan and you wanted to know everything about it. They went to Jeju and spent a whole week lovey-dovey.

“So, the next step is kids?” Hwan asks, crossing her legs as Hyesun almost choked on her iced coffee.

 “Damn, Hwan, do you really think that marriage and kids are linked or what?” Hyesun groans. She gives a look to her husband, who’s behind his counter, offering his best smile to a client before catching her eyes and blowing her a kiss. “No, maybe after my thirties, but we want to enjoy each other as much as we can.”

“In other terms, they want to fuck on the kitchen’s counter like animals for as long as possible,” You muse, as she smirks and slaps your shoulder.

“Don’t laugh too much, miss, you still have some explanation to do.” Hyesun scolds you as you frown a little.

“About what?”

“About what?” Hyesun repeats. “Maybe how you disappeared with your ex in the middle of my wedding reception and came back with him, giggling and heart eyed.

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your black coffee.

“That’s pretty exaggerated.” You sigh as Hwan looks at the both of you, lost. Hwan joined your friends' group three years ago. She doesn’t know anything about your story with Jungkook. And Hyesun smirks, pulling her chair closer to your mutual friend.

“I don’t understand,” Hwan chuckles.

“Yeah, you weren’t there, but that lady here was in a long-term relationship a few years ago." Hyesun muses as you lean back in your chair, shaking your head. “She was supposed to be the one getting married before any of us.”

“Y/N?” Hwan frowns, not believing Hyesun.

“Yeah, Y/N.” Hyesun nods, “Hard to believe, right?”

“Yeah. I have never seen her with anyone since I have known her.” Your red-haired friend laughs as you scrunch your nose, amused.

“Can you focus on your marriage instead of talking about old stories?” You arch a brow, giving her a look.

“No, no, I want to know.” Hwan shushed you, shaking her hand in front of my face. “What happened? Why are they not together anymore?”

 “Y/N is a self-sabotaging type of person.” Hyesun grimaces, “Jungkook was ready to offer her the moon if she asked for it.”

“Gosh…” You sigh, but your two friends interrupt you as you continue to sip your coffee.

“They have been dating since high school. How old were you when he asked you to be his girlfriend?” Hyesun turns to you as you wet your lips.

“Seventeen.”

“Right. They were like the couple goal back then.” Your best friend continues, while Hwan is listening attentively. “Jungkook always shouted out to the world that he was going to spend his life with her.”

“We were kids.”

“Shut up,” Hyesun says, stopping you as you chuckled. “Everyone knew from the moment you two started spending time together that you were meant to be.”

“Then why did you break up with him?” Hwan frowns. “You fell out of love?”

You take a deep breath and shrug. “No.” Was all you could reply, chewing the inside of your cheek, “I loved him when I ended things,” you add as both of your friends wait for your next words. “Oh my god... I broke up with him because he was about to leave for Japan, and I couldn’t follow him. Our relationship ended there. That’s it.”

 “Japan is just two hours away from here. Jungkook would have made it work, and you know that.” Hyesun gives you a deadpan stare.

“He was going to be there for 5-6 years.” You retort, frowning. “What was I supposed to do? Wait for him here? What if our relationship couldn’t make it through the long distance? What if he started seeing someone there and I was unaware of it?”

“You and I both know that the Jungkook from that time would rather cut his dick off than cheat on you.” Hyesun defends Jungkook as you roll your eyes. “He’ll most likely cheat on his new girlfriend with you, rather than cheating on you with others.”

“You’re so stupid sometimes, Y/N.” Hwan shakes her head as you cover your face in embarrassment. “Now we’ll never know because you’re a scary little thing who’s too afraid to take a risk for her own comfort.”

“Are you really teaming up against me?” You chuckle, crossing your arms under your chest. You weren’t surprised by how harsh they can be. It’s how your friendship with these girls works. At least you know they’re genuine and not sugarcoating everything.

“I’m sorry, but have you seen that guy? I wouldn’t give up on him, even if he was a huge dickhead.” Hwan adds, and Hyesun nods behind her shoulder. “Shit.. I wanted to ask for his number, but since you have a too huge connection with him, I’ll just… watch him… from afar.”

“You still can, he’s single,” You raise an eyebrow, her face contorting into a grimace.

“Y/N, sweetie,” Hwan shakes her head, “He’s not a two-week boyfriend of yours. He was the love of your life. So, thank you, but no thank you.” She adds before Hyesun offers her a high-five.

“Anyway, you won’t dodge the question. What happened between you two at the wedding?” Hyesun tilts her head to you, pulling the straw between her lips in a sassy way.

“What do you think happened?” You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

“Something passionate, maybe a little make out session with wandering hands.” Hyesun raises her shoulders. You burst out laughing and shake your head.

“We simply talked.” You shatter their dreams as the two girls whine. “He asked me to be friends. I said yes.”

They both exchange a look before sipping their drinks silently as you frown. You hate it when they do that.

“What?” You groan, straightening up in your chair, and exclaim, “What?!”

 Hyesun starts by saying “Y/N…” as Hwan giggles.

“Sweetheart, I’ll hold your hand when I say it,” Hwan adds, taking your hand dramatically, covering it with her other hand as she rubs it softly. “No ex stays ‘friends’. Either neither of you has moved on, or one of you is lying about their feelings.”

“Or none of them have loved each other.” Hyesun nods in agreement with Hwan, saying, “But we both know that… well, you both were crazy about each other.”

“So, do you still have feelings for him?”

“What?” You frown, taking your hand off Hwan’s when she asks you that question. “You’re both ridiculous. I don’t have feelings for him anymore. We were friends before we got into a relationship, you know that?”

“That’s not the same,” Hwan says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, you didn’t taste his dick the first time you two were friends.” Hyesun muses as you groan, pressing your forehead on the table dramatically.

“You know what? Fuck you. Both of you.” You sigh, shaking your head as they both laugh. “I’m sure he only asked me to be his friend to be polite anyway; I haven’t had news from him since the wedding.”

 “Because you’re waiting for his news?” Hwan hums playfully.

“What- No! He wanted me to see what I could do for his tattoos—” you continue but they both give you an amused look. “Alright, shut up. I’m done talking about that.”

You were distracted by your thoughts while cleaning the room after your last client. After a six-hour-long work session, your back aches and your fingers are numb from the tattoo machine's constant buzz. But at least your client left happy with her new thigh tattoo. Spraying some disinfectant on the table, you start to wipe it meticulously.

“Sorry, sir, we’re closing,” you hear Baekhyun’s voice after the front door opened. “You can come back tomorrow; we’re opening at 9.”

“That’s okay, I’m not here to get tattooed,” The other masculine voice says as you straight up, leaving everything on the table and walking to the counter for a better view. "Is Y/N here?”

“It’s okay, Baekhyun, I’ll take care of it,” You add walking past your employee as he nods, “Finish the cleaning in the back.”

Baekhyun frowns, his eyes never leaving your face while you’re taking off your gloves and join Jungkook. He wears a casual, all-black attire, as always, with his whole sleeve tattoo on display and a beanie on his head, from which a few strands of hair fell to his neck.

“Hi,” he offers you a half smile.

“It’s late,” you reply, tilting your head as he chuckles and scratches the back of his head, his arm muscles flexing. Your eyes can’t help but follow the movement.

“The grannies computers,” he jokes, earning a smile from you while Baekhyun frown, noticing the sudden softness in your demeanor.

 Jungkook’s eyes switch from Baekhyun to you a few times as you turn to the other tattoo artist who didn’t move a bit.

“Baek?” You shake your head, as if waiting for him to give you the privacy you asked.

“Oh, yeah, right.” He mumbles, giving Jungkook a last look before going into the room behind the counter, saying, “I’ll be here, if you need me.”

You roll your eyes and step closer to Jungkook, leaning your hip against the counter. “Are the grannies happy?” You ask as he offers you a shy smile and nods.

“A lot.” He confirms, before looking around the tattoo shop. “You decorated it nicely.”

“Thanks. Did you come alone?”

“Hm.”

An awkward silence fills the room before you chuckle, shaking your head.

“So, what can I do for you, Mr. Jeon?” You try to ease the tension by making a gesture with your hand, indicating his body.

“Huh? Oh right. I, uh, the fillings,” He explains clumsily, pulling up his sleeve to show you his entire arm, and you’re surprised at how his tattoos just…make him look hotter.

You step closer again and ask him with a look if you can touch. He slightly nods. Your fingers wrap around his forearm as you twist it to see all the ink on it, spotting every little blank space between his bigger tattoos.

“Your previous tattoo artist was great,” You mumble, too focused to notice his gaze tracing every feature of your face. “That’s not the same… work?” You frown at the way that some designs are rawer.

“The first one did some shitty stuff on my arm,” He whispers, his breath closer to your skin than you thought. You freeze, turning your face and immediately pulling back slightly when your noses almost brush. “The second made up pretty well. But you know what they say? The third time is a charm.”

Your eyes meet his, your fingers still wrapped around his arm as you take a deep breath, trying not to be too obvious about how nervous he’s making you.

“Well, not to be arrogant, but that’s the case,” You reply, and his lips curve into a side smile. “What do you have in mind for the filling?”

“You’re the pro here, I’ll let you decide,” Jungkook declares, your eyes falling back on his arm as you trail your fingers over the empty spaces, earning a shiver from him.

 “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” You lick your lips, “I’ll need to take pictures of your arm to draw what I’ll do…” you add as your eyes fall on the moth on the inside of his arm, darker than the rest of his tattoos, right where the biceps muscle starts.

“Are you free on Saturday?” He asks with a softer voice, tilting his head to catch your eyes.

“I can take the pictures now,” You chuckle nervously.

“For dinner, I mean.” He clarifies as you look at him.

“A date?” You blink, unsure.

“A friendly date,” He corrects you, wetting his lips, as you take a few steps back, bumping your back against the counter, feeling stupid, but he didn’t move. “So?”

Of course, a friendly date. A simple dinner between two adults… two friends.

“Saturday,” You repeat, then nod.

“Saturday,” He lets out a soft chuckle, clearly pleased to see you so flustered. “You can say no tho.”

“No- I mean, yes, a dinner, Saturday.” You shake your head, frowning and catching your phone to take pictures of his arm as he laughs, “When you’re done making fun of me, let me know so I can work properly.” You groan, your camera app open while he smirks, showing off his tattoos for you to snap.

DUST OF US MASTERLIST.

WATTPAD.

buy me a coffee<3

[antizenin]

𑁤 OVERBEARER ⋮ OKKOTSU YUUTA

now that you were older, you felt like you could venture out in the world. however, with an overbearing step-brother like yuuta, it's nearly impossible.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, okkotsu yuuta, dark content & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 3.7k words !

➛ okkotsu yuuta & fem-bodied!reader (they/them), stepcest, one year age gap, dubious consent, stuckage, spanking, orgasm denial, overstimulation, one (1) clit pinch, degredation, squirting, momentary free use fantasy, implied vouyerism, etc.

College was supposed to be a freeing experience for you. Something that could be utilized to escape your family because while you loved them, they could annoyed you. Unfortunately, you came to the realization that your dream to freedom could wait when the cost of living on campus didn’t quite meet your expectations and the idea of commuting aroused in efforts to help save money. You thought it would dim your high expectations for independence, but as you got older and your first semester of college came into play, your parents backed off of you. 

You gained some sentiment of freedom as you could move more freely in the world, but with a few added expectations. Nothing dramatic, just make sure that you always communicated where you were going beforehand and tell them when you arrived and left. The conditions were completely reasonable, so why were you sneaking back into your bedroom through the window?

Because while your parents saw you as a responsible person, your step-brother— older by one measly year— still saw you as the little kid who couldn’t make the right decision for themself. Oftentimes would the two of you bicker about it, your mother and his father having to intervene to try and dissipate the ever growing heat. However, the two of you were stubborn mules stuck in your ways. 

It was cute in early years how Yuuta would be protective of you, truly viewing you as a little sibling. Always coming to your side in order to protect you. You thought it was nice and because of it, you two had a bond like no other. You clung onto him, wanting to hang around him and his friends, wanting to do what he did, wanting to always stay in close proximity. However, now that you were gaining autonomy and felt like you had truly found yourself and your confidence, you didn’t need to cling to him like plastic wrap anymore. You had your own crowd that you wanted to be around, and frankly, you no longer found him as interesting as you first did.

And it hurts, Yuuta can’t lie. Losing your attention and admiring cuts deeply and wounding a side to him he didn’t know was there. So, when you got mad at him again when he chastised you for the clothes you wear, asking you where you were going to like he was the authority figure, and made slick comments under his breath when you didn’t do something right in his eyes, it infuriated you. But, he loved the attention he got from it— from you— when he did this. It’s why he keeps picking fights with you, but it’s also why you decided to sneak out in the first place. 

You didn’t owe him anything, much less an explanation about your plans for tonight. Your mom and your step-father knew, that’s all that mattered to you. You didn’t think twice when you first did it, hiking up one leg out of the window, your short dress riding up and revealing your lacy pair of underwear as you hop out and make the most of the night. Late until the wee hours of the morning while your parents are away for the weekend and your overbearing step-brother is fast asleep and unaware of your whereabouts. 

You hold no regrets when you get back, having your friend drop you in front of the house this time as you’re no longer worried too much. As long as you make it through the window without a sound, you’ll be fine. At least, that’s what you figure. 

It’s a struggle, you realize. Finding a ladder to climb up on is one of them as you realize the height of the window getting in wasn’t something you prepared yourself for when coming back. And when you do find one, you realize that pulling the window up from the outside is an even more difficult process as there’s no ledge to pull at. Huffed breaths you make as it moves open inch by inch, a tedious amount of time that’s wasted with each second that you take. You groan in annoyance and exhaustion, but eventually, you have the window open. 

“Yes,” you pant out in relief, going in head first without a second thought. You’re halfway inside, feeling the hard exterior of the window pressing against your stomach when you hear a click, and then— you have to withhold the cry you want to let out as you feel the window panel fall against your back. The tears are threatening to fall, pain eating away at your waist as your legs dangle from the outside, the ladder you borrowed from a neighbor a few hours down falling, scraping the wall on its way. 

You need help, you know this. Luckily, you have your purse on the inside as you open it and reach for your phone. It lights up when you press the power button, going to your contacts to click Yuuta’s number when you pause, your smile falling as your thumb hovers over the button. You’re such a stubborn ass that even in a situation you’re in dire need of help for, you refuse to call him. You can’t bear to hear his voice, chastising you and telling you ‘I told you so’ in an effort to make you feel guilty for having a life outside of his video games. It’s not your fault that you want to experience the world while he rather stays pent up inside the house without contact with the real world. 

However, despite your refusal, Yuuta’s woken up to the sound of your shuffling and the knocked ladder. Figuring it was from the outside and it was those damned raccoons again, he didn’t want to have to bear the punishment of having to clean up after them again. Sluggishly, he throws the cover off of himself as he makes way for the back door. Dressed in nothing but a white t-shirt and baggy boxer shorts, he shuffles outside with a broom and his phone flashlight on as he tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

When his vision unblurs and he’s blinking away the eye crust, he’s much more awake than he previously was when he sees what’s actually there. He stops in his tracks as he sees your legs dangling in the air. He fixes the light on you more, eyes widening as he can’t help the snicker he lets out as he says your name loudly in the middle of the night. “___?”

Fuck, you curse to yourself, groaning when you hear Yuuta’s voice. So much for not calling him. Now, you feel the shame and embarrassment of it all, feeling the chill of the night against your bare legs. You feel even more self conscious as the air comes to rise higher, not wearing any protective shorts underneath. 

“Shit,” Yuuta cursed, quickly starting to fume. “I should’ve known with the way you were silent for the whole night. Should’ve known you snuck out when you weren’t told to.”

You mutter curses under your breath, beginning to seethe at how impossible he was being right now. “I didn’t need permission,” you sneer. “I told mom and dad where I was going to be, and they were fine with it. We’re not little kids anymore. Stop being an asshole.”

Yuuta reaches for the ladder, setting back up as he climbs it. He scoffed, “I’m being an asshole? Sorry for caring about you and wanting you safe.”

“Oh, don’t try to make me feel guilty,” you retort. “Just open the window and help me out.”

When Yuuta is more sturdy and the light shines down on you more, he can see just how much your dress has risen up. With the floral pattern, he knows exactly what dress it is, the short thing always falling right below your ass as it exposes your underwear. The underwear being worse as you wear a lacy thong and basically revealing yourself to the entire world. He can’t even focus on anything else as he feels his cock twitch and anger blooming inside of him. 

“You can’t be fucking kidding me,” he mutters before his voice raises. “You wore this dress out? Your ass is practically showing right now. What if someone tried taking advantage of you? What if I didn’t find you here first?”

“No one did, so just leave it—” 

It was sheer instinct. His anger bottling up inside with his palm flattened out and the sting of the impact sounded through the night, causing a shriek to leave your lips when he did it. It’s silent as it dawns on the both of you. Your eyes widen as you try to look back at Yuuta, but to no avail, it’s only the curtains and shingles. “Did you just…?”

And it feels so good to have done that to you that he does it again when he comes to realization. “Shut up,” he sneers. “You fucking deserved it.”

“Yuuta,” the next slap courses through your body, your heart racing as you grow flustered. Your legs clench together as you feel arousal pool together, your juices starting to flow. Why did you feel this way? Why did you feel so… turned on? “Stop.”

The way your voice quivers, an uncertainty running through you as you’re not really sure if you want him to stop. You don’t really want him to, but your sense of dignity is being blinded as this arousal floods you. 

Yuuta pushes himself against you, letting you feel his erection against your ass as he palms it, holding both sides of you as he massages the plump flesh. Kneading it as he ruts himself into you, he asks, “Why should I when you deserve to be punished?”

“Because… Because,” you can’t find anything to help your cause, and you’re surely silenced when you feel his hand snake down to cup your mound. He can feel how wet you are from the short time, and the amount of pride he feels vibrating off of his chest, it calls for a smirk to grace his lips. He chuckles darkly as he massages your clit through the fabric, eliciting soft moans that he can’t hear but he knows are leaving you. It’s in the way your body shudders from the feeling and your legs tense together, trapping him there.

“And why should I when I’m making you so wet, huh?” 

There’s a darkness in his voice, but you’re ignorant to the monster you just released as you feel yourself trying to shimmy your way closer to him, gradually losing your shame as his fingers continue to dance and prod at your covered pussy. You feel his fingers pressing down into you, applying more pressure as he grounds his erection into your ass. “Please… Please…”

Those two words fall from your lips as you’ve sparked something carnal deep within him, what he’s been yearning for from you for years, he’s now coming back to receive. You’re begging for him. You need him. 

And just like the good big brother he is, he’s always willing to give to you. He spanks your ass pretty until the palm of his hand stings and he can feel your cunt dripping that sweet and honeyed slick through the cotton of your underwear, the weak and flimsy material making you leak your essence down to his fingers, a web dripping onto the ladder. Oh, how you need him so. 

“Tell me that you need me to take care of you,” he grunts, fixing one arm underneath your legs, nudging you slightly closer to him. With the window pane still digging into your back, it makes the material ride up even further. “Tell me that you need your big brother to make you feel so good.”

You feel so dirty, so downright awful that it feels good. How he addresses himself as your brother despite having no blood relations. A heat sparking against your cheeks as you mewl out in enjoyment. “I need you, Yuuta. I need you to take care of me. Please, make me feel good.”

“But then the question is,” Yuuta straightens his posture, towering over you as he has a steady stance on the ladder as he plants one more slap against your ass. “Should I really? You’ve been such a bad thing lately— so mean to me.”

“No,” you’re quick to cry out. “No, please, Yuuta. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you mean it?” he asks, starting to palm himself through his underwear, feeling how needy his length is, wanting nothing more than to fill up this sweet cunt of yours, his. He can only imagine how good you feel.

You nod. “Yes, ‘m so sorry.”

“Promise to listen to me?” he hums, shifting his underwear down, letting it stand prominent against his abdomen as the night kisses it with its icy air. It makes him all the more erect as he slides it against the crevice of your ass, sliding your thong to the side as he spreads open your legs wide. “Promise to never disobey me again?”

“I promise,” you gasp, your tone becoming high-pitched as you feel the tip of his cock against your tight and puckered asshole. He presses himself against it, precum smearing before sliding his cock down. You say you promise, but Yuuta knows you better than anyone else does. He knows how selfish you can be. And he finds it cute how selfish you can be about his cock, but not the fact that you’re a filthy fucking liar. 

The only thing lubricating you is your slick, your juices easing the pain of Yuuta’s length as he presses in. Your pussy tight and now his for the taking. When he completely bottoms out, he pants. Not because of exhaustion, but from how overwhelmingly good you feel. Your cunt sucks him in up like a vice, capturing himself into something deadly. 

You moan, hands holding onto the wall as your nails scratch at the paint, white being caught underneath the beds of them as you paw against the roughness. Your mouth falls into an ‘O’ as your head falls. You whine as Yuuta goes unmoving, trying to look behind you through the curtains and blinds as your vision becomes watery. “Yuuta…”

Two hands that hold your waist as he has to fix his footing, right leg on the highest level of the ladder and the left leg on the second, Yuuta pulls out of you, hearing you whine and whimper at the loss of him. “Don’t worry,” he mutters before his tip aligns back with your entrance and he thrusts inside of you once more. 

Familial ties are forgotten as the two of you become absorbed in your own pleasure, filthy and raunchy moans that fill the air. You’re both disturbing your neighbors' sleep, but they’re all too lazy to quench their curiosity on why it sounds so close. The ladder hits the wall with every thrust as Yuuta rocks in and out of you, languid movements that have your walls clenching around him greedily. How the female anatomy is a greedy thing he comes to conclude, especially yours with how it's trapped a spell on him. Has he been so deprived of it, or is it just you? He can’t come to make a decision and he doesn’t want to. 

Your sweet slick drips from you, running down your thigh as your body moves from left to right. You still feel that pain of the window, but it subsides with every growing second as you become to thank your uncomfortable predicament. You feel so good, so full as Yuuta touches those right spots with his dick. A hand coming to wrap around your leg as he shifts it to a different angle, burying himself deeper inside of you as he comes gluttonous of you. His hands begin to explore your lower body and it pains himself the lack of access that he has to your upper body as he’d love to stuff that filthy mouth of yours with his fingers. Oh, how this situation has called for disgusting fantasies that he always tried to keep in hibernation, always denying himself the simple truth that he’s always wanted you. That his desire to protect you and keep you away from the world wasn’t because he was seeking out your best interests, but his own. 

His thrusts become more brutal, the more his imagination becomes wild, thinking about the potential future the two of you had just unlocked as he can see it with him stuffing you full of his seed. He’s completely tainted you, ruined you for other men to use. What would they think of you if they found out you slept with your step-brother— and continued to sleep with him? 

“Oh, you’re such a nasty thing,” he says. “Letting your brother sleep with you like this. Begging for his cock to fill you up.”

“S–Step-brother,” you correct him, drawing out the ‘s.’

“Who cares?” Yuuta chuckles. “If people were to find out they wouldn’t care. They just know that you’re a filthy slut desperate to take any dick you can get.” 

You start to tear up, not liking his words. He was never like this to you when you were younger, always filling up your mind with positivity as he’d tell you how pretty you looked or just how amazing you are. Even when you argued with each other, it never felt this harsh. “Stop!” You cried. “You’re being so mean to me.”

“And you were so mean to me,” he grits from his teeth, spanking your ass. You cry out in shock more than pain now, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “Have you ever thought about how you hurt my feelings? You’re just proving my point. You’re just a selfish little slut.”

When you’re about to cum, so is Yuuta. He can tell it, too, by the way your pussy pulsates around him, closely mimicking a heart beat. “Yuuta, I—”

He reaches down towards your clit, pinching the dark nub harshly as he fucks into you. “Don’t. Don’t you dare fuckin’ cum.”

But things are easier said than done as you feel that coil inside of your stomach threatening to break. Your walls can only grip Yuuta even more, nearly trapping him when he tries to make an escape. However, the loss of him is heartbreaking as that coil reattaches itself and that euphoric feeling is at a loss. Yuuta is greedy as he pumps himself into an orgasm, spilling his release against your ass. A milky white that drips down into the crack and down your leg. It’s such a pretty sight. 

He jerks himself off until that high leaves him, the urethra dripping what's left of his seed before he’s pushing himself back into you. His presence is ever looming when he says, “you don’t get to cum until I tell you to do so.”

It continues like this, the battering of your poor pussy that has you crying out in pleasure, constantly being denied your release as Yuuta overstimulates himself into plenty. Your backside looks so pretty painted in his cum and your inner thighs have your sweet juices dripping down your legs as he denies and denies you of what you want and need. You sniffle, trying to hold yourself together as you cry and beg and plead for mercy. “Yu,” your voice hoarse. “Please…Please… Please let me cum. ‘M so sorry for being so mean to you. I promise I won’t do it again.”

And finally, just finally, do you sound sincere. He doesn’t say anything as his spent cock dips back inside of you so easily, the wet sounds of your pussy and skin slapping against skin sounding through the night as he grounds himself deeper and deeper inside of you. The smell of his multiple releases is potent in the night air, cutting through his nostrils as his pelvis is damp from his orgasms. You nearly knock over your bedside lamp as Yuuta drills into your pussy, 

trying to find some sort of semblance as your mind becomes hazy. You start babbling a bunch of incoherent nonsense that Yuuta can’t quite catch, but with how your pussy spasms around him, it tells him everything he needs to know. 

Your body trembles as your toes curl. Your arm reaches for the edge of your night stand, gripping it tightly as your legs tighten around Yuuta. Caging him in, he stills himself inside of you as the scene unfolding before him is hot, sparking yet another orgasm and his last one for the night. Your voice gets so high-pitched as you croak out, “Fuuuuckkk.”

Your throat goes dry as Yuuta’s cock presses deep inside of you, your back arching as your legs flexes and contracts. Your release is strong, spraying out of you in a translucent white as it soaks the front of your dress and splashes onto Yuuta, coating his pelvis in your release. You squirt against him, squirming in his hold as you push out everything he has to offer you. His eyes sparkle at the sight, but his cock so spent that it softens as he falls limp out of you, your orgasm splattered to the wall and dripping down. “Fuck.”

He’s speechless for a second as your legs fall weakly as you moan and mewl. Your pussy s[asms, your hole gaping open as Yuuta’s cum drips out and down to your clit before your body fully relaxes. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, your body aches badly as you groan. “Yuuta… Can you— Can you open the window?”

And without another word, he does so. He opens the window for you, seeing the deep marks dug into your skin. He should feel some sort of guilt for using you in such a painful position, but instead, his mind continues to wander. Before you could climb back into the bedroom, he grabs at your waist once more. “I should’ve left you there n’ make some stranger use that pussy of yours all night.”

He calls it a night with a last slap to the ass, helping you back inside without making too much of a mess before climbing down the ladder. In the silence of it all, when he climbs down, he stops in his tracks when he spots a few eyes from the window across from him before the blinds are fixed back into place in a scurry. Fortunately for them, Yuuta was too exhausted to even care. 

[fujoshirat]

When the Shouto Todoroki saves you and your kindergarten students at the aquarium during a villain attack, you can't seem to get him out of your head. Bonus: you're quirkless and he's a pro hero, so you live in two different worlds. The glue? His cute nephew that's obsessed with rocks and that just so happens to be in your kindergarten class.

In short: You've become obsessed, you suppose. But that's all right, you're not the only one that's obsessed.

WARNING: multi-POV (should have mentioned that last time and for the rest of the series but lol i'm always changing POVs), the end </3

Part 1! Part 2! Part 3!

4 - Suits

Kaoru doesn’t know how to feel about the suit. It’s itchy and the wrist cufflinks are kind of tight. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he admires his reflection.

“Fancy…” he mumbles, not quite used to wearing such an elegant outfit. He wore T-shirts and shorts everywhere: at home, the park, the store. On more formal occasions like dinners with ojii-san and baa-chan, he’d wear jeans. The suit was stuffy and restrictive. But Kaoru liked it in a way. The suit made him look older. It made him look like oji-san at the suit store: grown up.

A knock on the door makes the little boy gasp. “Kaoru-kun, it’s me.” Recognizing his father’s voice, he opens the door. Natsuo smiles and enters. “Hey, are you ready to go? It’s almost time.” Kaoru nods and walks to the nearby desk. There, he grabs the smooth black box and opens it. Inside, two gorgeous matching rings, adorned with sandstone (Kaoru picked it out himself) and diamonds. Simple and elegant, like his oji-san. He hears his father clear his throat and turns back around to face him. Natsuo unexpectedly smooths out his son’s hair, earning a whine. “Dad!” His father crouches down and looks at the little boy maturing.

“Hey, Kaoru-kun.”

“Yes, dad?”

A soft smile adorns the white-haired man’s face.

“I’m proud of you.”

₊‧°𐐪���𐑂°‧₊

Shouto Himura Todoroki is nervous. Here he is, standing at the altar, his best man and groomsmen standing to the side, the officiant waiting, everyone waiting, about to marry the most perfect woman he’s ever known. His gaze trails off to the rose flower decorations, archways and chairs all adorned with the romantic flower. Shifting his weight, the pro hero could feel his heart racing under his suit.

It had been exactly two and a half years since he’d confessed to her. They stood in the doorway of Kaoru’s kindergarten center one night, as Shouto was picking his nephew up. Stumbling over his words, he nervously gave you the rock and his affections, that beautiful, smooth speckled rock.

And she said yes.

Shouto was pulled out of his thoughts when the music began to play. He watched the young flower girl gracefully throw red and white rose petals along the path, some playfully landing on the guests.

And there you were, bathed in the sunlight, radiantly shining in the beautiful, pure white gown. You looked like a queen-no, a goddess. Your face covered in a sheer veil, your arm was resting on your father’s as you began walking down the aisle. Shouto could see your smile: bright yet nervous, eyes already tearing up. His chest tightening, the man could also feel a tear forming in his left eye.

Slowly, step by step, you approached the altar. Once close enough, his soon-to-be (literally) father in law gave Shouto a small smile before putting Y/N’s hand on his. When he walked away, Shouto tenderly whispered to her. “You’re so beautiful.” You giggled bashfully in response, your smile widening. The ceremony proceeding, time becoming a blur.

And when it came time for the rings, the not-so-little 8-year-old boy with white hair and pale skin walked up to the couple. Small shoes clicking on the tile, he stood in front of the pair and opened the box. There, the rings rested on the small velvety pillow. A rare smile full of sunshine adorned Kaoru’s sweet face as he looked at the soon-to-be-wedded couple. His teacher, Y/N L/N, and his uncle, Shouto Todoroki. Crouching down slightly, Shouto smiles at his nephew and takes the rings. “Thank you, Kaoru-kun.” Cheeks turning a soft shade of pink, the boy wordlessly nods and walks back to his seat.

A crystal tear rolls down your pretty face as Shouto puts on your ring. Sniffling, you put on his, trying to stop crying. The officiant watches before clearing his throat and proclaiming joyfully:

“I pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride!”

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Every couple has their wingman, that special person that brought them together. For you and Shouto, it was his cute little nephew and your kindergarten student that made you two obsessed with each other.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

A/N: Part 4 is done and the series is over... (˃̣̣̥ヘ˂̣̣̥) I can't believe that this little idea in my scattered brain finally grew wings and was published OwO Thank you for reading Obsessed and I hope that you all loved it!! I sincerely appreciate everyone's support and patience with this mini series ദ്ദിദ്ദി(˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) It was so much fun writing it and seeing all of the love!! Once I have time, I will update the series into a proper masterlist. Part 1 got a whopping 373 likes and Part 2 got an astonishing 23 reblogs, extremely surprising numbers for an underground writer like me >< So, one again, thank you all so much and I hope that you continue to look forward to and enjoy my future works ♡♡

TAGLIST: ♡♡ @roseapov @brittanylikesstuff @stanseventeen @qardasngan @jastoo46 @kysoshir0 @arc6021 @sparklyglitterangel @mangooes @bitchyfestivalbouquet @hanzyyme @a1wrm

[bucknastysbabe]

Rating: Mature

Tags: Love triangle but tragic, hey look I wrote the One, anyways Aegon (he love you and feels cringefail), Targtower Princess, incest what’s new, heartbreak, Aemondthing you’ll be safe dw

A/N: 1k words the drabblemaxxing is failing but we going w it

Aemond understood your intricacies vastly better than Aegon. Aemond was the silent presence at your shoulder, one who you stayed up for hours with discussing war, politics, and philosophy. You were there for him when his eye was cut, and he was there when the council decided it to be a better match for you to marry Aegon.

Sister for a sister. They feared Helaena may not do her duty— head in the crannies, searching for spiders and speaking of things that were neither here nor there. You were more feasible, a proper princess who didn’t speak up and relished in Valyrian custom.

You’d always imagined a Valyrian wedding with Aemond, sharing your life force, your blood with him. His eyes might sparkle in the way they did…rarely but beautiful nonetheless. You pictured his lovely hair cascading down. Blood on Aemond’s sculpted lips, he’d smudge his thumb between your brows. His thumb between your…

Your eyes snapped up to the exact opposite of anything you wanted. Aegon. A drunken fool. He had kicked his feet up on your settee, lazy violet eyes and mischievous lips smirking at you. His deep voice echoed in your incense-filled chambers.

“Don’t you get bored in here? Reading all the time? Have you ever thought about…maybe kissing a boy? You’re to be married you know.”

You put your quill back into the ink, frowning.

“Yes. To be married. Shall I go get more experienced for you?”

Aegon grinned.

You didn’t plan on coming to Aemond’s quarters disheveled. Your mind was spinning itself in circles and it screamed, *You cannot lose your maidenhead to your elder brother!” You knocked again, a low curse from within before Aemond answered, his perturbed look softened some.

You knew he had kept his distance. It was only fair. All you wished was that he was happy. As happy as an Aemond Targaryen could be.

He had his hair down, and eye-patch off for the evening. He cocked his head at your staring, waiting for a response. You babbled like an idiot, shoving yourself past his lanky frame. He stepped back with a displeased grunt, following along, calling, “Sister. Breathe.”

You whirled on him, the frantic feelings flowing out. He was stony— but you needed that. Something that wasn’t ever-flowing moods and manic giggles. Aemond wasn’t perfect himself, but he tried to be. You rubbed your nose, pinching it, “It’s Aegon.”

A particular iciness developed over his features. He looked to the side, jaw working. “The matter with Aegon is?” Aemond asked in a sharp tone, his usually soft tones with you erased. Perhaps it was his displeasure, you hoped. You had no choice.

“He’s a louse,” you began before grumbling, “Oh, you know that.”

Aemond’s lips turned up.

“I need- I can’t- I cannot have my maidenhead stolen but him. I’ve always wanted you, you know it, even that idiot they want me to marry knows.”

The second son walked to you, long legs across the stone floor, a hand gripping your chin roughly. He hissed, “You’ve been around him too much, sister. You aren’t thinking straight, he wouldn’t like deception…with a family member.”

You shook your head, hands gripping into his loosened tunic, eyes of fire.

“I am thinking straight. What will he do? He fucks as he pleases, I’m asking you, the one I love, to take me? Are you so craven to deny us that? If you feel as such,” you swallowed a weak noise, “Then I’ll leave and never bother.”

Aemond’s thumb swiped the corner of your mouth, boiling emotions barely hidden now, bright in the darkness. He huffed quietly, “Who am I to deny *us* such pleasure, sister, but do not ever assume me craven.”

His hard lips pressed against yours, long fingers curling around your waist. You felt you could breathe anew in the searing pleasure of his lips and tongue. You pressed yourself closer, breathing his name.

Aegon pulled off of you with a huff, rolling over. He murmured. “You’ve been fucking Aemond hm?”

Your eyes widened. Was this truly the topic after your second night of wedlock?

You rolled over to face his pouting lips and sullen eyes looking forward. His arms were crossed, a leg folded up. Aegon looked good. You’d grown a sort of kinship and attraction. It was dull but steady fire. Or so you thought.

“I…have,” you said quietly, shifting closer to him. Aegon gave a rather miserable look, you giggling a little. He stiffened, vexation in the eldest son’s eyes. You sighed, “Aegon, you need not be jealous. You do as you please. I have one, leave us be.”

“Yes, but it’s Aemond.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing, “Yes, it’s Aemond. Your spend is still inside of me and this is how we shall act, brother?”

He grumbled further, eyes flickering toward you, pouting massively. You snorted upon realization. The curly-haired idiot wanted reassurance. Drawing near, you strung an arm across his chest, nuzzling Aegon’s full cheek. He mumbled, “I don’t like that it’s him. No more.”

You pulled away, raising your brows to exclaim.

He sat up to jeer, “I said no more. You aren’t going to make me the bigger fool having his children behind my back. I’ll be able to tell, I’ll have a guard follow you until you know who you belong to, until my seed has taken!”

You slapped him with a teary gasp, shaking your head as he pinned you back. You begged, “No, you cannot do that, you cannot, no, please, Aegon I will hate you.”

“No, you won’t.” He gritted out.

“You’ll love me, you’ll forget he was ever inside,” Aegon said softer now, a fear in his voice. You trembled, hot tears running down your cheeks, pleading with Aegon. He ignored the pleas, pulling you close.

And how did you tell Aegon you were late on your moonblood already? You didn’t.

[dream-with-a-fever]

Hi! What is your favorite Hinny scene in the books?

hi!!! i LOVE this question. i have a few favourite scenes — and i also know i’m not alone in these scene choices.

the library scene in ootp is just perfection. it’s so simple and brief, but there’s something so special about it, the way harry lets his guard down around her and tells her what’s been bothering him when he hasn’t been able to do that with anyone else. i think this is also a scene that shows how good ginny is at reading harry and his emotions, and knowing what he needs, when to push and when to lay off.

the break up scene in hbp is also in my opinion one of their best. because it shows how well they both understand each other. ginny doesn’t want their relationship to end but she also knows harry, and knows he will do anything to stop this overhanging evil in their lives, feels he has a responsibility to do it. and while she hates him for it, it’s also one of the reasons she fell for him — his selflessness and courage. he also knows that she wouldn’t expect anything less of him. i’m not articulating my reasoning very well here, but i really do think this scene is a perfect example of why they work together.

the little moments where we get to see harry and ginny as a couple are also perfect like the core four sitting in the common room, ginny up against harry’s legs, setting up jokes for each other, comfortable intimacy and love.

can’t not mention the ‘lucky you’ scene too - another pivotal scene for their character development. she is the only one who isn’t scared of his volatile moods and rages, she stands up for herself and calls him out. she manages to calm him, and hold her ground all at once, and demands respect which he quickly gives to her. she is someone who can absolutely handle harry - at his best but also at his worst

THE KISS IN GINNY’S ROOM. that scene is just pure romance. it’s this pining and longing for connection, this moment of closeness they’ve both been yearning for that is prematurely ripped from them (ffs ron) and this sort of tragic goodbye kiss, don’t-forget-me kiss, please-come-back-to-me-in-one-piece kiss, a kiss to remind them what they’re fighting for. ginny’s emotional maturity in this scene is gorgeous. and poor harry just wants to be a teenager in love for five more seconds…like ouch

honourable mentions: ginny sassing harry during quidditch practises, all the little interactions during the summer of hbp where harry starts to see how hilarious and wonderful ginny is, their married couple bickering energy before and during the battle at the department of mysteries, when they’re setting the table at the burrow talking, the little kisses and casual displays of intimacy (kissing each other goodnight…..???:?) i could go on and on and on.

it’ll never be ENOUGH! which is precisely why i enjoy canon-compliant works of them so much, because we deserved to see so much more. stay tuned for my half blood prince missing moments one shot <3

[the-family-business-83]

⚠️ Rated for mature audiences 18+, minors DNI ⚠️

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

Fandom: Stranger Things

Genre: Smut

Character(s): Steve Harrington x f!reader

WC: 990

Warnings: Some adult language used, PiV insinuation/mentioned, fingering, Steve being unfair (that's not really a warning but it's true), reader is described as female

A/n: I found a prompt to write 100 words of filth with any pairing, to post on Thursday to torment people on thanksgiving. I went a litttttle overboard on the wordcount but that's nothing new for me 💀 anywayyy, decided to try my hand at writing something for Steve Harrington because I'm on a Stranger Things kick lately. First time writing him in any way and also my first publish work of smut I think so hope this isn't cringe~ enjoy :p

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

How I Think Steve Harrington Would Be in Bed

Steve is attentive when he's kissing you. His hands are on your body, roaming every inch of you in a way that feels like he's trying to commit your body to his memory. He's in tune with every shudder it draws from you, as shivers roll down your spine from the feeling. He keeps you close against his body, your hips pressed against his, because close isn't close enough. He loves feeling you against him and God if it isn't what warms you to your core.

His kisses are enveloping. His lips always taste like mint and something sweet that you couldn't place. It was intoxicating. He's never too impatient though–every kiss from him feels like he's tasting you for the first time and he can't get enough. He savors it, his tongue swiping over yours gently before meeting your own. Sometimes his teeth graze your bottom lip, pink and puffy from all the attention he gives it,and you can feel him nip at it slightly before coming back for more.

He slips his fingers down to your core, and he swipes them through your warmth, feeling just how wet you are. You're always so wet for him, and it makes his cock twitch every time. You're putty in his hands when his digits start to rub intentionally slow and light circles against your clit before he's fucking you with them. He'll make you ruin your panties further before either of you have even undressed, and he's content knowing how much it riles you up. Because he loves to get you needy.

He'll always pick you up and lay you down on the bed, refusing to leave your side any longer than he has to in order to crawl on top of you. He's gentle when he tugs each article of clothing off your body, but wasted no time with his own. His shirt will end up half way across the room where he chucked it, but yours? Yours is half dangling from the bed because all he did was shove away from your body so he could focus on you. His lips find yours again almost instantly. And that's the thing; he absolutely loves having your lips on his. He only pulls away to trail down your neck now and then, and he takes his time when he does. His hot breath fans over your sensitive skin, and he relishes the sounds you make in response. He places slow, deliberate lisses to the side of your neck, suckling your tender skin until you're sure he's bound to leave a mark, but he doesn't. He knows exactly what he's doing and he's careful to save those marks for places he knows only he'll ever see. When he reaches your collarbone he grins against the spot because it makes your breath hitch. He can't describe just how much he loves the way his name sounds on your lips, light and airy like that. He'll do anything to hear that from you, whatever it is.

He loves the sounds you make, knowing just how good he makes you feel. It stokes a fire low in his belly that swells with every whimper that leaves your lips, every moan he elicits from you, every shuddered breath you take when he knows you're so high you can't form the words. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together and it grounds you, an anchor you're glad to have because you know it's him that's holding you tight. He loves the way you squeeze his hand when he hits just the right spot or teases just enough to make you needy.

He loves everything about you. And he makes sure to tell you that. He gives you little compliments all the time, in different ways here and there–but when he has you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and his face nestled against your neck to pepper kisses down to your shoulder, he murmurs praises against your skin. You're beautiful, he'll tell you. He just can't help telling you how amazing you are because you are and he can never fathom the way you don't see what he sees.

You're doing so good, so good baby;

Love it when you do that, god feels so good y/n;

You can do it c'mon, I'm right with you baby. Cum with me.

He wants to make sure you feel good, and his hand sometimes slips between your bodies when he knows you're a little further behind him and his fingers deftly swirl circles against your clit, bringing you closer. He won't finish unless it's with you.

Afterwards, he won't let you get up, not unless it's to shower, where he'll no doubt join you. He'll be quick to dispose of his condom–because Steve isn't stupid and he's always prepared–before coming back with a damp cloth to help clean you up. Then he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapping around your body as he presses a kiss to your forehead and stays there for a few long moments, just breathing in time with you. He doesn't always notice that he does it, but he traces shapes against the small of your back too, until he falls asleep. You're rarely far behind him in that, but your face buried itself in the crook of his neck to let his scent intoxicate your senses and kill you into comfort. Your hand is tangled in his thick hair, scratching his scalp lightly in an absent-minded way that has him sleepily mumbling things to you. It makes you giggle.

Steve Harrington is obsessed with you, and God if you don't love that about him. He's a dick sometimes. But he's never let you down, and he always lets you know just how much you mean to him. You don't know how you got this lucky but you don't plan on letting it go.

[pinkicyheart]

aot ideal types ˖ ࣪⭑

a/n: fluff, no gendered terms! enjoy <3

eren: i think eren feels like he’s hard to understand. he’s very ambitious and wants to make the impossible possible. i feel like he wants someone to understand why he does what he does, and why sometimes he doesn’t say what he means. it’s not enough for someone to just blindly support him. he wants true unwavering support only found from seeing his point of view.

mikasa: mikasa has a lot of love to give. when she loves you, she would lay down her own life a million times just for you to be happy. i think mikasa wants someone who makes it all worth it. who would do the same thing for her. also for someone to help her make sense of her conflicting feelings. just generally, someone very loving and almost parental.

armin: armin wants the best of both worlds. he likes being flustered, and being told what to do, but he likes being in control as well. he likes spoiling his loved ones and doting on them. i think he really likes cute people. cute people with a more forceful domineering side. or fierce looking people with a cute side.

jean: i think jean lives inside a shell. he’s really scared of the outside world, and is scared of wearing his heart on his sleeve. he’s scared to be childish and free. i mean last time he chased childish ideals, his friend died! i think he needs someone really positive, tender, and fun to remind him that it’s okay to chase comfort and fun sometimes. you can be a responsible adult and a carefree child at the same time. they also have to be patient because unlearning everything will be very painful for him.

connie: someone exactly like him. someone who can keep up w his nonsense and his endless energy. i remember isayama saying that connie’s ideal type would be a gyaru and i totally agree. i don’t think he likes quiet meek people. he likes people who are loud and colorful and express themselves as such. also someone emotionally mature because i feel he admires that.

erwin: i think erwin can love anyone. his heart is just that big. he can see the beauty in anyone and bring it out. you just have to be able to handle him. outside of the world of titans, erwin would probably be a kind of weird person? he’d probably be able to lead a normal life, but i think he’s just the type of person that wants to be part of something greater. a normal life would never satisfy him. and i think you’d have to just be okay with going along for the ride.

[thegreatcaptainusopp]

The Water 7 Fight: An Analysis

So. Water 7. There’s a lot to be said about the Usopp vs Luffy fight, their motivations, and the right vs wrong of it all…it’s a complex situation, and so I wanted to share some thoughts:

The Set Up

The growing tension and activity that led to the fight between Luffy and Usopp is so so well explored in the scenes right before it happened. Of course, events are kicked off by Usopp’s abduction by the Franky Family, and his subsequent beating and losing the money. This, on top of the many many clues sprinkled throughout the early bits of the arc and earlier arcs regarding his own feelings of inadequacy as well as his connection to the Merry, is the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Usopp in my opinion. This was one of his deepest fears, finally realized: he felt that he had finally crossed the line into more than just useless but an active liability to the crew. He admits as much to Nami when he sees her: he’s ashamed more than anything else. He can’t face the others.

Nami’s reaction in this moment is also really interesting. She sees Usopp at possibly one of his most vulnerable moments ever, and she reacts so kindly: she tells him it’s not his fault, that it’s going to be okay, that she’ll get him some help. It’s such a mature and responsible response and out of everyone here I think she reacted most rationally to this whole situation. I think if she had been a little more confident she could’ve engaged in some really good conflict resolution practices with everyone.

At the same time, everyone slowly gets the bad news about the Merry, and their differing reactions are interesting: they’re all upset, and openly discuss that. Sanji even notes that Usopp is going to be particularly upset to hear this, so they’re all already aware that this is going to be quite bad. What’s interesting, though, is Luffy’s reaction: he goes through a similar emotional journey that Usopp does when getting the news, but their ultimate destination is what differs greatly here. I think the difference here is probably down to two factors: 1. Luffy does not have the same particular insecurities that Usopp does and 2. Luffy is the ultimate authority in the decisions here, Usopp is not.

Then, Usopp picks himself back up, badly wounded, to return to the Franky family to try to get the money back. This is a big moment too, because it showcases that he is the type of person to fight even when he knows he isn’t going to win, which is what ends up happening here. Even the moment where he burst in really felt paralleled to the moment he stares down Luffy in a fight later: it’s a really good set up.

And then he gets injured even more, and chopper has to check if he’s even alive when they find him, which is important to note because his physical condition is just dire right now.

I found the reactions of Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, and Chopper interesting too because they get super angry, obviously, partly because of the money but more because of how Usopp is hurt. In one sense it’s funny that they just left him there while they took revenge for him, but on another it’s a little tragic because that wasn’t what he needed in that moment. I don’t think he ever finds out about it either if my memory served me correctly. There’s another layer of irony in the way they all leap to fight to save their crewmate but we’ll get to that later.

I also think it’s notable that Luffy locks in his decision to get a new ship here, right after they destroy the Franky family’s hideout. I think he felt a sense of responsibility for what happened, maybe believing that if he’d been more decisive in his leadership, then Usopp wouldn’t have been this badly hurt. Which is also just oof. Extremely ironic.

So they take Usopp back and it takes him a while to even wake up, and when he does he’s all apologies. The physical framing of it is interesting too, because he’s on his knees and hugging Zoro’s legs and stuff. He’s not outwardly expressing his shame like he did with Nami earlier but it’s close. He’s not really standing up at all.

And everything seems to be going ok, and Usopp is asking about next steps and then…and then Luffy drops the bomb. And that changes everything.

The Confrontation

Usopp starts the whole argument in full denial. It’s a pretty classic gamut of emotions here: he goes full tilt into the cycles of grief, starting with just straight up denying that Luffy would do this, to bargaining by asking if he was at fault in this situation and trying to convince the others to let him continue fixing the ship. He’s clearly feeling a lot of guilt here: he believes he is directly responsible for the Merry’s “death” as it were and is scrambling trying to take responsibility for fixing her. I think everyone else was taken aback by the level that this guilt went and were wholly unprepared to deal with it. Luffy yelling that he isn’t a carpenter I think was him trying to talk him down but ultimately had the exact opposite effect: all Usopp heard was he had no expertise in this and was useless, and may have even harmed Merry further or out her in this situation to begin with.

This snaps Usopp into the anger stage, and this is where it really starts to get ugly. It’s notable to me that he’s the one that escalated by grabbing at Luffy’s shirt and yelling at him that he excepted better, which were intended to hurt I think. Luffy though gives as good as he gets, and is the one that actually turns the confrontation violent: knocking a grave injured Usopp down. In short: he doesn’t descalate or calm the situation, but instead adds to it. The way his temper is so hair trigger in this scene is extremely interesting to me.

Nobody else intervenes either (at least not yet). All of them try on occasion to tell them to calm down or stop fighting but not more than that. Not even Zoro steps in at this stage, which I found super interesting. Nami tries to tell Usopp at one point that Luffy had a similar emotional reaction ti him about this choice, but Luffy stops her. Funnily enough I think if he hadn’t she may have been able to calm things down a bit here.

It’s not until Luffy is right about to tell Usopp to leave, it’s practically already left his mouth, that someone actually steps in here. And it’s SANJI. Sanji, who knows very well how it feels to be told you don’t belong somewhere anymore. Sanji physically knocks Luffy back and he does it with FORCE, and it’s him who desperately tries to wrangle some control back of the situation. And the thing is: it almost works! Everyone listens to him, nobody objects to his methods, and Luffy actually starts to reign himself back and apologizes!

But it’s a bell that can’t be unrung at this point. Usopp has heard what he heard and has made his decision. What’s interesting here though, and what I realized upon rereading it, was how self aware Usopp was at this stage about the whole thing? Like he was fully aware that he was substituting himself in for the Merry and straight up tells the crew that he thinks he’s useless and that they should get rid of him in the same way that the did the ship. Like…he’s not subtle at ALL about this, and about the reasons why he’s behaving the way he does. He knows exactly why! And he tells them! I honestly credit him for that in a way…he’s spiraling here but he’s aware of it, and he’s aware of exactly what he’s feeling and why. The way this fight is remembered and discussed in fandom I feel is he’s characterized as throwing a tantrum about it but this really isn’t what happened here at all.

Nobody really pulls him back on his statements: I think they were too shocked here to really know what to do. Chopper is falling apart emotionally, Nami is trying to get him to hang back and wait, Sanji even starts yelling at Usopp to come back. Zoro…Zoro says nothing, which interested me a lot too. He does however have a flashback to him being the one to invite Usopp on board, which I have a LOT of thoughts about. From Alabasta, Zoro has been privy to a lot of Usopp moments that were important turning points for him: carrying dalton up the mountain, expressing doubt after long ring long land, etc. I think he’s thinking of those things here too. I think he’s feeling a sense of responsibility here that he doesn’t know what to do with.

Luffy says nothing too. He looks angry, which I think is a cover for upset, but his silence is fascinating. He’s letting things play out here because I think he’s still in fight mode but also because I think he’s letting Usopp make his own choices here, as he should. I think he’s trying to be captainlike here. But…also not quite. He’s spiraling just as bad as Usopp here, imho.

And then, Usopp issues his duel request. There’s a few interesting bits in between where Nami is trying convince Luffy to not go through with it, but he’s very dedicated to doing so anyway. She’s telling LUFFY to apologize which is interesting thinking of the fandom recollection of this fight. She’s trying conflict resolution here but it’s a bit too late for that.

I also like that Sanji and Zoro are fighting about this too, blaming each other for what happened. I think it’s a form of tension release for the two of them, and Nami stopping them shows it’s still a bit of a sensitive time for it anyway. Which leads to:

The Fight

This fight is one of my favorites in OP, insofar as actual fighting techniques/approaches go. It’s unique to the series and so emotional and just hits different. Luffy’s later fight against Sanji hits similar notes but this one stands out specifically because it’s Usopp, who is very much not a fighter in the same way Sanji is.

For one, Usopp’s a ranged fighter, and he’s fighting Luffy at close quarters. He’s already at a MASSIVE disadvantage and he knows this, Luffy knows this, the straw hats know this. It’s his fight to lose, and he picks it anyway. And I think this is what’s so key to this entire conflict, from start to finish: Usopp KNEW he was going to lose. He knew it from the start. He knew Merry was doomed. He knew that from the start too. But he did all of that anyway. Why? I think the why is so incredibly nuanced, from loyalty to pride to fear of rejection to abandonment issues. But it also highlights his tendency to bullheadedly get things done if he thinks he’s the only one left who hasn’t given up on something. And I think that’s so important to him as a character, and it’s this realization and this specific fight that made Usopp into my favorite character. It’s also why I don’t think there’s a black and white wrong and right side to this conflict. From one end, Luffy’s the boss so they need to follow his instructions without question. From another, I like it better when Luffy’s challenged by his crew for both story and character purposes for all involved. I think Luffy needed this to happen, not because he needed to assert his authority as captain, but because he needed to fuck up as a leader and learn from that.

For another, Usopp is also on the brink of collapse this entire time. The fight ends when Luffy gets a single hit in, which means Usopp was on his last legs and he still went through with it. That is super admirable to me and a testament to his super tanking abilities and determination when it counts. He had the deck stacked against him here and he still went for it.

Now: fight techniques. Usopp took this fight seriously, like for real seriously. He pulled every weapon out of his arsenal and went for it, from lying to caltrops to dials and actual honest to god explosions. It was interesting to see the crew be so surprised at him doing so well at the start. He even uses Luffy’s care for his injuries against him which was a notable part of it for me. The impact dial bit is one of my favorites: it’s such a powerful moment to me.

And then he loses, and is probably actively dying as a result lol. Everyone’s absolute devastation, expressed in different ways, was really fascinating to watch. Chopper just trying to run over and fix things and Nami unable to watch hit hard. Zoro being super composed on the outside and holding Luffy together but…yeah he’s not pleased about this. Sanji telling chopper not to go because Usopp doesn’t need pity. Luffy crying…which always is very emotional. Them giving Usopp the ship and moving on to demonstrate that they took all his words seriously but also to acknowledge his dedication to the Merry. Ooof.

Anyway this arc physically hurts. 10/10 experience. Destroys me every time.

[humans-are-tasty]

[iridiss]

something something about autism masking and how it relates to Mystreet Garroth’s character development. something about how Mystreet Aphmau “Has Never Masked Her Chaotic Audhd Once In Her Life” McGee influences Garroth to crawl out of his posh boy shell and goof off and run wild

[welcometogrouchland]

I miss them so bad (Dick and Damian)

[dungbeatposse]

the amount of mental trauma boboiboy has is astounding.

kid has never catch a break since the day he got his power watch, especially with the weight of the whole galaxy on his shoulders, and the amount of times the descendants of the first elemental users have seen boboiboy as their ancestors AND retakka… yikes…

i’m glad he’s deciding to stay on earth for the time being, lord knows he needs it 😭😭😭

he has yet to get the all third stage elementals, and also i would like to see the origins of the others’ powers too. i think it’d be interesting to see where yaya’s, ying’s, gopal’s and fang’s powers came from.

so we’ll see how that pans out (hopefully my boy’s gonna go clock in with the tapops psychiatrist before he does any shenanigans)

can’t wait for boboiboy galaxy season 3~~

[antizenin]

𑁤 CYBERGUARD ⋮ LOGAN HOWLETT

thank you for signing up to cyberguard! we heard that you're looking for protection and you came to the right website. cyberguard is aiming to amplify the safety of people through the use and programming of robots to keep you safe. made to answer every beck and call, and more importantly, to provide you safely, we know we've got what you're looking for !

( fic demographics. ) x-men, part one of cybercore, logan howlett, dark and violent themes & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 11,667 words !

➛ robot bodyguard!logan howlett & idol!reader, alternative universe, some political topics, blood & violence, minor character death, possessive/obsessive!logan, erratic behavior, manhandling, rough sex, full nelson, asphyxiation, some slapping, fingering, degredation, unprotected sex because he's a robot, dry humping, sadomasochism, squirting, etc.

You hated last-minute meetings. It makes you feel like you're right back in school again. Sitting around a desk as the authoritative figure looks down at you patronizingly. There's a moment of silence as you're waiting for your punishment, feet tapping agonizingly fast before being prompted to "stop," but not even thirty seconds later, you're right back at it. You've never had to receive punishment, fortunately, but your imagination was a wild one and you'd always see that scenario so vividly in your mind. 

Still, you hate them. Never tell what it was about until you're being beckoned in. Just like at school, where they would never hint at the good news, make you wait anxiously for time on end and send you into a near heart attack because they want to build up the anticipation. When in reality, it was anxiety that they fostered inside of you. You have an idea about what this meeting is about, though, so you shouldn’t completely lie. 

They’re probably going to be trying to conjure some ideas in regards to you and your safety after the attempt made on your life last night. You’ve become very vocal in political matters lately, letting the world know your stance on your current government and they didn’t like your response. You started getting hit with derogatory statements and slurs being spewed left and right, bigoted pieces of shit not afraid to tag you in their hate. Just like you, they shared a passion for their beliefs, but taking it to extremes. 

Building a strong mind and a stealthy rapport, you had become immune to the messages, going about your regular schedule as you had rehearsals and interviews set in place for your recently released music. However, in came the packages made to your company building. They were always vetted before you received them— hence why you’ve received none— but the knowledge that people were so hateful because of your opinions was enough to invoke a shred of fear throughout your body. 

Your management had seen this coming. That someone would try to make an attempt on your life, suggesting that they hired more bodyguards in your favor and limited the amount of fan meets and delayed your tour, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to show them that you were afraid because that meant they had the upper-hand in all of this. However, things have taken a turn as news has circulated of the events that transpired last night. You’re afraid that you no longer have a choice in this matter anymore. 

The blue lights do nothing in your favor as you sing on stage. No matter how many times you’ve requested that they be replaced by another color, a color that would suit your warm undertones, they still shine on you. You try not to have it seem like you’re a spoiled idol that wants everything to your beck and call. You’re not a tyrant, no, but you’re wondering if that’s what it takes for people to take you more seriously. 

Still, with your bedazzled mic in hand as you perform, you move on through the night. With a wardrobe made to suit your tastes and appearance to the world, the military green cargo pants hang off your waist and the black straps of your lacy thong shows. Paired with a pink bikini top and a ripped up wife beater that barely hides your breasts. Gold accessories best compliment you, but you make sure to keep it simple, afraid to lose any of your precious pieces out in the crowd while you perform. The Timbs are heavy on your feet as you move, but they help complete your look for the night. 

Your hair was in a simple updo, but some of the bobby pins have come undone, not strong enough to hold up your locs that have come to hit your mid back. The stray stands come to get in your way from time to time as you try to interact with your fans. Everything felt ordinary in your extravagant lifestyle. You were an enigma that could move your waist fluidly as you danced, enticing your crowd as they cheered and screamed. Background dancers that sometimes staggered as they forgot their routine.

It was only a split second when the round of shots halted all movement from you. Immediate instincts telling you to drop to the floor, your bodyguards starting to swarm you immediately. Screams of terror and fright came from those on stage and off stage, as you peaked over your left shoulder to try and see through the mountain of men trying to bring you to safety. You manage to get a shot of one of your dancers receiving aid from another and tears well up in your eyes. Another set of shots fire as you can hear one bullet lodge into the lights before you’re being properly escorted backstage. 

Not too long after were you informed that they caught the perpetrator— a middle-aged white man that had somehow made it through the metal detectors. Turned out that the device was faulty. 

They had given you the luxury to spend the rest of the night to yourself, a traumatic experience that not only affected you, but your fans and staff. Guilt started welling up in your chest as it ruminate all night to the point that you were unable to sleep, but that given grace of somewhat solitude (they stuck a few bodyguards inside and outside your hotel room) ended the moment you woke up to a call from your manager summoning you to speak about the matter at hand. 

You had arrived in less than thirty minutes, not bothering to freshen up like you should’ve. A hot and steaming shower could’ve calmed your nerves surely, but that would’ve also left time to ruminate for a bit longer. You didn’t want that. However, arriving on time early also wasn’t the best choice as they have you sitting outside the office door now. Two bodyguards standing by your slouched side. You’re tapping your feet rather annoyingly and you’re sure they want to tell you to stop, the sound becoming obnoxious, but they don’t. 

The moment the door swings open, you’re on your feet before your manager could even process your presence in its entirety. “Is Anna Marie okay? Are the ones that got hurt okay?” 

Your manager, Ororo, takes a moment before letting out a sigh. Shutting their eyes as they take their breath. She looks like she hasn't gotten any sleep either. She knows that evading your questions will get her nowhere, as you’ll continue to hound and badger her about them until you get an answer. She knows you mean well, but sometimes she wants you to be selfish rather than selfless. “They’re fine, love,” she states. “They’re in the hospital and expected to be discharged by tomorrow or the day after.”

You exhale in relief, one bodyguard heading in front of you as the other enters behind. Ororo trails in shortly after as the rest of management has already had their seats taken, yours being the only one vacant still. Pulling out the swivel chair, you take a seat. 

“Hello, dear,” Charles Xavier, the co-founder of X-Men Entertainment alongside Erik Lensherr, speaks with a warm smile. From the times that you’ve had your encounters with him, he was always sweet and kind, making it easy to reciprocate a smile in conversation. With a gentle nod, the corner of your lips turn but never meets your eyes. “I hope you managed to get an inkling of sleep after all that happened last night.”

“I didn’t,” you answer truthfully, meaning to lie, but it just came out. You chuckle, trying to play it off. “But the show must go on.”

“I’m sad to hear that,” Charles frowns. “I know it’s been very hard on you, and I can ensure that we have something in hopes to make this all the more… bearable, for lack of a better word.”

“Yes,” Erik nods, finally speaking as he sits up in his seat. Unlike Charles, his button-up fit snugly against his skin, tightening as he fixes his posture. “I apologize for being straightforward, but I think it’s time that we really focus and put emphasis on your safety. What happened last night should’ve never happened and part of it is on us to blame for not ensuring that all of the equipment worked.”

Unlike the plenty of record labels and entertainment studios that tried hiring you once they heard your voice and saw your incredible talent, you’ve always felt like X-Men was the most genuine of the bunch. They weren’t the biggest of the bunch, but they’ve managed to stay honest with you through it all, helping you to become the star that you are. And you’ve surely proven yourself as many more talents have come to start switching over to them. 

In a sense, they’re right. What happened last night shouldn’t have happened. The faulty metal detector had led to the harming of people and ultimately an attempt on your life. Others would have tried to blame it on the stadium, and despite the role they had to play in it, your company did as well. However, that fact doesn’t make you feel any better about the entire ordeal.

“And we’re all aware about your disdain for more bodyguards,” Erik continues, “however, your safety is our biggest concern and we must prioritize that right now. We’ve canceled the rest of your fan meet and greets and your tour is being delayed.”

There’s a long pause, as though they’re expecting a rebuttal from you. Maybe if you were in your right mind, you would’ve had one come off the top of your head, but you don’t. You’re exhausted, sleep-ridden and restless. Your mind is a mess, thinking about a lot of things, but can’t focus on one. Last night was a fright and though you wanted the upper hand all this time, you’re afraid that they had it all along.

You’re afraid, and you hate this feeling, so you don’t argue back. You don’t have the strength for it and you don’t want to. They were right the first time and if it wasn’t for your strong will and stubbornness the first time around, this could’ve all been avoided. 

Your silence is Erik’s assurance to keep going. “We think it’s best that you receive therapy so that you have a healthy outlet, and we’re hiring another bodyguard.”

“Okay,” you nod in understanding. Everything that’s been said so far has been reasonable enough for you to agree with. “I’m fine with that.”

“You’re familiar with Cyberguard, aren’t you?” Charles speaks, clearing his throat at the end. The question catches you off guard as you tilt your head in question. You’ve heard about Cyberguard, underneath a bigger corporation called Cybercore, it’s an initiative to amplify people’s protection. A bodyguard service, only that the security themselves, being a bulk of metal.

You’ve seen and researched their prototypes, eerily resembling human kind that it’s unsettling. Something that you were also against as you’ve become to question the overall objective of the company. It all seemed like a ploy to get rid of the human race. 

For the first time since this morning, your thoughts become more clear and coherent as you come to understand what Charles is silently trying to tell you. He’s seen your videos, heard the interviews of your political views, but never have you told him about your skepticism with the advancement of technology. However, he’s very perceptive and wise in his old age. 

“No,” you shut your eyes, shaking your head repetitively as you’re adamant on your choice. “I thought you said you would just hire more men— women— but not a robot to babysit me.”

“Yes, my dear,” Charles sighs, knowing that this was going to take a turn the moment he suggested it. “But, things have taken a turn and we’ve had other idols and celebrities use them, and it seems like this is the best solution—”

“What about Scott and Hank?” you gesture to your current bodyguards. “What will you make of them? Or will they just be fired and not have a stable source of income now?”

“No, they will be temporarily placed with someone else,” Charles answers. “You don’t have to have the Cyberguard permanently. Just until everything settles down and you’re safe.”

“I'm safe with Hank and Scott right by my side,” you retort, crossing your arms.

“You once told me that you really appreciated our honesty,” Erik interjects. “So, I'm going to be frank when I say this to you, (Y/N). You no longer have a choice.

“The Cyberguards are more stealthy and faster than the average human. They're built to exceed the strength and abilities of a trained marine. No offense to you, Hank and Scott—” Erik gestures towards them to receive a silent and curt nod from them. “— But, they're regular men in comparison to their abilities. They're valuable men that we don't want to lose, but just like Charles said, your safety is our concern and you're our biggest idol, right now.”

You know that they only want the best for you, but you keep shaking your head. “I don't like it,” you speak barely above a whisper. “Are they even properly tested? What if it malfunctions and something goes haywire?”

“They have been properly tested actually,” Charles nods. “The celebrities that have been assigned one have positively acclaimed their uses and like them quite a lot. If anything goes wrong, you know that we'll be quick to replace it.”

“But—”

“My dear,” Charles tilts his head pointedly. “I hate to say it, but Erik is right. You do not have a say in the matter, not unless you want the next headline in the news to be one dreadful and in mourning.”

With a huff, your shoulders drop. Fuck.

— 

Your new security has a name— Logan Howlett. And you’ve come to realize the appeal to the artificial being. While you have seen pictures of celebrities and their cyberguard, nothing compares to the real thing standing in front of you. Removed from its seven foot box and the styrofoam and wrappings, you would’ve mistaken it for being a real man— an attractive one at that.

You try not to audibly say anything as the handymen continue setting everything up for you in your luxury apartment. Barely home because of your busy schedule, now that you’ve been placed in a witness protection program as you like to call it, you finally have time to give it the homely and comforting touch it desperately needs. And hopefully (it makes you scoff having to say his— its name) Logan Howlett can make itself useful and do some of the heavy lifting.

“Wow,” Hank breathes, impressed by the cyberguard just as you are, though you’d never admit that. “I’m starting to feel less offended about what Mr. Lensherr said. This is a beast of a man.”

“Robot,” you correct him. “You mean, a robot.”

“Well,” he comes to the currently inanimate object’s defense. “It looks human, so might as well—”

“No,” you snort. “It’s not a living thing, so don’t give it the luxury by calling it one.”

“Listen,” Scott finally inserts himself into the conversation, sitting down at your dining table. “I don’t like this as much as you do. You’re right, after all. It does seem like the government wants to get rid of us, but maybe this thing will do you some good. Maybe it can help you more than we were able to.”

Since the concert, the two of your bodyguards who you’ve come close to to the point you consider them family, they’ve never really vocalized their opinions on the matter. They knew it would be too much for you and that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. They don’t want to be reassigned to someone else who might not show the same kindness that you have given them, but there’s enough guilt sitting on their chest as well to cooperate alongside Charles' and Erik’s decision. 

“Just like Charles and Erik said,” Scott continues. “This is temporary. Once people calm down and you’re in a safer position, we’ll be back to you in no time.”

“Do you really believe that?” you frown. “Maybe this is some sort of way to silence me? To play the part as being a public figure that’s silent. This goes against everything I’ve said!”

“Well,” Scott sighs. “Sometimes you have to go against your word in order to get to where you need to be. Plus, they expect you to lock yourself up, so if you stay true to your word—” Scott jabs you in your shoulder, raising his eyebrows in warning “— press won’t release an article about how much of a hypocrite you are.”

“Just…” Hank breathes. “Make sure to keep yourself safe for the time being, okay?”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” you smile in a jesting manner and pull Hank in for a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

“Oh, you’re so dramatic,” Hank reciprocates the hug, his embrace warm and comforting to you. It lingers for a second longer than ordinarily until he’s pulling away finally. “We’ll be back before you know it.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” you point at him. Hank chuckles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black pantsuit.

“I know you will.”

In another hour, the cyberguard finally lights up. Posture straightening as Logan’s eyes blink open. He has a rather gruff appearance, a scowl settling on his face as he scans his surroundings before his eyes land on you. He’s what the ancient Greeks thought of during the Hellenistic period. Features that seemed to be meticulously crafted by the Cyberguard designers. He has an oval-shaped face, dark facial hair that shapes it magnificently. His hair is styled in a particular way that has you chuckling. Is that why his last name is Howlett? Bouncy hair styled to resemble the ears of a wolf itself. 

His physique is just as spectacular as his facial features, glistening under the light that peers through your windows. His skin is tanned and bulging in muscle that isn’t just for design. His outfit is basic, a white t-shirt that hugs to his skin, a pair of denim jeans and dark boots. Scott reaches for the pamphlet on your coffee table. Leaning to your ear as he stands to your left with Hank at your left, he whispers, “Says here that he’s from Alberta, Canada. Previously a lumberjack—”

“Shut up,” you whisper back, nudging him with a roll of your eyes. Hank snorts, adding his two cents in, “Apparently these bots are designed after real people— ones that have served the country.”

“If you both are still trying to convince me to be fine with this, you’re not,” you frown. “How is that even ethical? And how does that even make sense if he’s Canadian?”

“It is, apparently,” Scott shrugs. “Says that the families consented to this. Seems like he was well remarked during his time.”

“This is absolutely stupid—”

“Hello,” comes a voice abruptly. It’s deep and robotic. “My name is Logan Howlett, previously known as Weapon X by the company Cyberguard. I have been assigned to service (your full name) as a source of safety. It is my pleasure to work with you.”

“That’s our queue to leave,” Scott says, making his way towards the door with Hank, leaving you baffled as the handymen start gathering their belongings and leaving the garbage for you to clean up. 

“Wh–What?” you choke. “That’s it? You both are just supposed to leave me alone with this thing?”

“According to Charles and Erik, yes,” Hank nods. “They said that within the first forty-eight to seventy-two hours, it’s best that the cyberguard gets acclimated to you as it goes through an update to familiarize itself with the… world. Says it’s not safe for more than one other presence while it does so. It’ll view us as a threat.”

“This is complete and utter bullshit,” you mutter under your breath as Scott unlocks the door. He gives you a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “We’ll check up on you when we have the chance. Message us if anything goes wrong. We’ll be available until the week after next.”

“Okay,” you slouch, watching as they give their final farewells. The handymen follow not too long after, leaving you alone with Logan. He simply stands there, watching you and your every move. When you go to the couch, he watches; when you reach for his instruction manual, he watches. From your quick skim of it, you cannot leave the vicinity of whatever area you’re in for the next hour or two so that it can memorize you in your entirety. It’s supposed to perfect its match when it begins to follow your every movement. 

You read through it all, about the questions you ask and what it knows how to do, which is very little outside of providing protection. You learn how to charge it and where it can’t function, informing you of an app that you must download. Reaching for your phone, you do just so as you quickly ditch the paper as you begin to tinker with the app, inserting your bot’s information. You turn on the television to help pass time, but with the meaty man standing before you, it’s hard to focus.

Fortunately, within an hour, he’s finally announcing, “I will undergo a lengthy period of software updates within my system. During that time, you are finally able to move freely, but please make sure not to leave the building whatsoever.”

You finally sigh as you immediately rush to stand on your feet. Your body had started to ache, stretching out your limbs as Logan’s head tilted down and his eyes shut. Underneath his white shirt, a light shines, it’s blue as it starts to hum. 

For the next two days, being on house arrest, you find yourself partaking in the hobbies and tasks that you never had time to do as an idol. It was fun picking up a hook and crocheting to your heart’s content. You didn’t have an idea of what you wanted to make, you just started creating. It brought you a sense of piece as you’ve come to terms about your current predicament. 

Your phone starts buzzing rapidly, multiple notifications coming in at once. You needed to take a break anyway, your hands starting to cramp and you’d hate to get carpal tunnel. You crack your knuckles before picking up your phone. Twitter, Instagram, Netflix with a new movie you’ve been wanting to check out, but most importantly, the Cyberguard app and Ororo. You prioritize Ororo’s message, opening it. You had asked about the condition that Anna Marie was in, one of your background dancers, wondering if the girl would be willing to give you her number so that you could stay in contact with her.

From Ororo: Anna Marie said yes.

From Ororo: [ Anna Marie’s Contact Information ]

From Ororo: In regards to the fans, they accepted your offer in paying for their medical bills. 

From Ororo: But while this is happening, I really want you to look after yourself, love. I understand how you may feel as if this is your fault, but—

You don’t get an opportunity to finish reading the message when you hear a voice inside of your bedroom. “My update has completed and (your full name) is officially under surveillance.”

“Fuck!” you shout, dropping your phone on the bed as you shift around to see the culprit. The Cyberguard itself stands right at your door, taking in your bedroom and its disheveled state. Whenever you start crafting, your room makes sure to hold the evidence of it. The robot takes notice of it, looking at the floor. 

“The current state of your room is not safe to be in,” he states. “It is best that you leave while I prepare it for a more suitable state for you, Miss (Y/L/N).”

If you had paid closer attention to the Cyberguard notification, you would have known that Logan had finished its update, informing you that he was heading to your exact location. You clutch your chest as you finally calm yourself down. For something built to keep you away from fear, it does a very good job at inducing it. 

Of the two days that it spent updating, you’d walk past it and stare at it. You would contemplate on what everyone has told you about the Cyberguard and the pro’s that it presented, but you were adamant on not listening. The two days gave you a chance to really digest everything and your ordeal. If you wanted things to go back to normal, you had to cooperate. You couldn’t keep walking around with a stick up your ass and put yourself in danger again. While you still preferred to have Scott and Hank by your side more than anything else, you were clinging to the hope that this is what’s promised— temporary. So while you had Logan in your possession, you’ll make the best of it— you’ll have fun.

You test the waters, remembering that in the manual, he’s programmed to understand the majority of what you say as if he were a regular human. For everything he doesn’t know, he’ll undergo an update if requested enough outside of his scope. Some people who have Cyberguards in their possession have given you their experiences with them, saying that while they might be initially tasked to protect you and its their main objective, they do evolve into doing more. The idea of it all still creeps you out, sending a chill down your spine, but you start to accept it. You don’t want anyone else to come to harm because of your one-sided ideology. 

“Hello, Logan,” you say, tasting his name on your tongue. “How are you?”

He tilts his head in a way that’s robotic, resembling the movies you watch as the artificial intelligence tries to gain some more understanding. “I am doing well. How are you? Are you doing well?”

A week passes before you’re getting a phone call from Scott. You answer it in a heartbeat. “Took you long enough to call.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly on the phone. We got assigned to someone else sooner than we thought.”

“Excuses, excuses,” you sing, propping the phone in between your ear and shoulder as you stand inside the kitchen, Logan standing not too far away as you’re boiling a pot of noodles. You stir it, making sure not to have it stick to the bottom. “How’re you? How’s Hank doing? Who are you guys assigned to?”

“I’m doing fine,” Scott shrugs on the other line. “I’m with someone that’s actually pretty chill despite his cold attitude to the media. Dutch Duval— you’ve met him before, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “In passing. Good to see that he’s warm around you. I didn’t get that luxury.”

“Man,” Scott sucks his teeth. “That sucks. Maybe he’s a he-man woman hater.”

You laugh at the reference. “Nah, maybe he’s cool. He did seem to be in a rush when we were introduced. What about Hank? How’s he doing?”

“He got the short end of the stick,” Scott says. “Hired twenty-four-seven. The asshole won’t even let him get a break for himself outside of pissing, eating and breathing.”

“Damn,” you breathe. “That’s tough. Hope the jackass doesn’t try to keep him permanently though. He’s mine.”

You giggle jokingly, but Scott doesn’t meet your laughter. Only responding with a ‘yeah.’ “You’re asking so much about us, what’s up with you and Logan? You haven’t called us at all, so we can only assume he’s safe and functionable.”

“Yeah,” you hum. “He works. Can’t say much about him, though. Does what he’s told and always trailing me like a lost puppy.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t be for too long.”

“Six months is too long in my book,” you scoff. 

“They said three to six months,” Scott corrects you. “You should be more optimistic.”

“I’ll try harder just for you,” your voice is monotone.

“I’ve got to go,” Scott comes to end the call. “I’ll talk to you whenever I can, ‘kay? Call me if you ever need anything.”

“That’s what I have Logan for, remember?” you point. “But, will do. Talk to you whenever.”

Scott doesn’t respond, simply ending the conversation there before you hear the line go dead. The water starts to bubble and you give the pot of noodles a good two more minutes before you’re pouring the majority of the water in the sink. However, as you’re pouring, you carelessly look away, the hot pot getting too close to your skin and burning you. You yelp in pain as you nearly drop the noodles down the drain. “Shit,” you curse, before you feel arms around your waist and pull you back. 

“Scanning area to see the severity of the wound,” he announces, grabbing a hold of your wrist, a flash of blue shining in his brown eyes. “Seems to be a first degree burn. Can be handled with ice or running underneath cold water.”

Still holding onto your wrist, he leads you to the sink as he moves the pot aside and turns on the pipe. This is the first time that you’ve been under any “danger,” rendering you speechless as you watch him in action. Shifting the pipe to blue, he pulls your wrist to the water. There’s a momentary sting before it resolves in a comforting feeling, you exhale as the pain leaves your body. Watching you and feeling how your heart rate eases back down, Logan asks you, “You are back in a calm state. How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” you reply. “I’m fine now.”

Letting go of you, Logan returns back to his previous position. “Due to your carelessness, I deem that cooking isn’t appropriate for you. I will undergo an update in order to learn culinary skills to better serve you.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Due to my carelessness? It was an accident.”

“An accident that resulted in you getting hurt,” he retorts.

“I don’t need you cooking for me,” you shoot back. “I can do it on my own.”

“My update will begin at the start of midnight and last for approximately twelve to twenty-four hours,” he responds. “You may finish making your meals until then.”

You continue watching Logan incredulously, continuously snorting and huffing under your breath about what he said. You're sure that he hears you, but has the knowledge to understand that he doesn’t need to answer back. If it wasn’t for his robotic way of speaking, you could swear you were arguing with a real person. 

Give the robot a chance, they said, you think, resuming fixing your noodles. If I knew it would be so sassy with me, I would’ve fought harder to not have it.

—

“The father is the murderer,” Logan announces from his side of the couch abruptly as your eyes are glued to the screen. Blue lights illuminate from the television screen in the dark as you’re covered underneath a blanket with a bag of Cheeto Puffs residing next to you. Logan sits up obnoxiously straight, a creation of perfection. You’ve managed to change him from his old attire, which proved to be harder as he was stubborn as a mule. Constantly arguing over your safety as he swatted at your hand from reaching for the hem of his shirt. Finally, you managed to convince him that because of the dirt, it could lead to you getting sick and potentially dying. His programming to be concerned over your very being worked as it was able to convince him to shed the shirt and pants. 

Your chest could burst from his incredible physique, his pectorals and abdomen lined and glossed. Every inch of his was thoroughly made as body hair veiled his chest, even more closely replicating a human. Is this how the original one looked like? You thought to yourself before snapping back to reality. Now, he’s sitting across from you, eyes glued to the screen with his arms bulging out in the black shirt all the same as the white. You furrow your eyebrows as you wonder just how he knows that bit of information, possibly spoiling the entire show for you.

“How do you know?” You ask, shoving a few puffs into your mouth and chewing.

“It’s best that you eat one chip at a time to prevent choking,” he advises. Over time, you’ve come to ignore him in moments like this. 

“How do you know that the father is the killer?” you repeat, elongating your question.

“His body language,” he simply responds. “He’s so calm and controlling of the situation that it’s so obvious.”

“But, it could be anyone of them,” you point out. “Everyone of the suspects has a motive to kill.”

“You’re right, but according to my research, it’s the father,” he spoils, causing you to slap the arm of the chair. You groan.

“Ugh, that’s cheating!” you exclaim, throwing your head back. “Now you spoiled the entire show for me.”

“Isn’t the entire objective of the show is to find out who the killer is?” he asks, confused as to why you’re upset. He thought he was doing you a favor by telling you who it was in order to decrease your levels of stress that he gathered from you. “It’s apparent to me that your stress levels have risen since starting this show. I need to decrease them for your safety.”

“Sometimes,” you start, “sometimes stress isn’t bad. There are some things that people are stressed about that aren't going to harm them. Like, television shows, crossword puzzles, and murder mysteries. And, it’s fun to try and guess instead of looking up the answer.”

“Is that so?” Logan’s eyebrows knit together, taking in the information. “I will surely have to update some more to better understand that.”

Recently, he’s been constantly updating for all sorts of absurd reasons. He always retorts that it’s all for your safety and to better understand how to fit your needs, but they’ve become about the most mundane things in life. One of them being the stupid joke, ‘why did the chicken cross the road?’ and how exactly is it meant to be funny. It’s adorable, closely resembling a child learning about the world for the first time and how it functions. You hate to say it, but you’ve come to enjoy his company.

The next time he watches anything with you, he makes sure not to do research in his database, simply going based on what he’s come to learn from your fondness of mysteries and films. 

“It’s going to be…” you twist your lip upward, squinting at the screen as you try to point out the possible murderer. “The pregnant girl.”

“How so?” Logan hums, skeptical of your choice.

“No one suspects the pregnant girl,” you say. “Kind of makes it badass actually.”

“Badass?” He questions your choice of words. “Murder is badass.”

“No, but being the underdog is,” you try to explain yourself. “The unexpected. No one will see it coming as the cops will believe it’s everyone else, but her.”

“That’s…” Logan thinks about your explanation, a blue glint in his eyes. “That’s smart actually.”

“I know right!” you beam. “I’m a genius.”

You’re right. Logan has been updating quite periodically, and every time he does so, it’s quicker than the last. Now a regular update from him only lasts for about an hour or two. He feels more connected to you. He feels more human this way. It started off innocently, trying to better his understanding about the human body and its health, learning that it ranges and differs in each person. Until it comes to other things that he noticed. What you do in your spare time, how you’re an idol and just what that is. Every single abstract thing he deems important and fascinating, he upgrades his database so that he can reference it when he needs to. 

He knows everything about you and what information the internet is willing to offer. He knows the name of your parents, where they’re from and the lineage that follows. He learns that you’re opinionated, very much so, and you have a disdain to creations like him. He can’t quite wrap his mind around it still, seeing how you seem so friendly, but you’ve noticed how you refer to him as an it, naming an object that isn’t alive. 

He comes to learn that you hate the concept of his very being because you feel as though he’s your competition to life itself. But of the two months that he’s been living here, he’s been trying to be equal to you to better keep you safe, to better understand you. There’s no way that he could compare to you when he wants to be your equal.

This fast-paced gain of knowledge makes him all too aware that he shouldn’t feel this way. That he shouldn’t be trying to grasp onto something that he’s not and that he’ll never be, but he was tasked to you. What better way is there to serve as your bodyguard if he can’t understand you in his entirety?

There’s a loud and hefty knock coming from your front door. Perched at the desk inside your bedroom, he watches as you jump up from your bed and dash out into the hall. Raising his eyebrows in question to who could have you so excited, he’s on his feet as he’s right behind you in a matter of seconds, ready to answer the door for you.

“It’s okay, I know just who it is,” you dismiss him, but he butts in and pulls your hand away. 

“I am still tasked for your protection,” he says. “That means answering the door and checking the vicinity for you.”

You no longer argue with Logan, letting him check through the peephole and scanning the two individuals through it— Scott Summers and Henry “Hank” McCoy. His mental files pull up that these two were your former bodyguards as you remember a conversation that you had previously, insinuating that he was only a temporary fix and not tasked to you forever. If he had a heart, he would proudly say it’d drop.

After he continues his check, he concludes that it is safe for them to come in. Opening the door for you and being the first thing they see when they enter. You frown as the door swings open, seeing how Hank and Scott were expecting to see you first instead of their replacement. 

“Oh,” comes from the lips of Scott as he comes unsure on how to greet Logan, so the robot does it for him. He holds out his hand, waiting for the gesture to be reciprocated. “Logan Howlett. Nice to meet the two of you.”

They stare at Logan with amazement, hearing how the cadence in his voice differs tremendously to how he was at first. They’re speechless and unmoving at first until Hank’s the one to break before Scott, taking Logan’s hand to be met with a strong grip. He nods politely, a tight-lipped smile forming on his lips. “I’m Henry McCoy. Everyone calls me Hank, though. This is—”

“I can introduce myself,” Scott nudges Hank, sending a playful glare. “Scott Summers.”

Scott feels the same pain that Hank experienced, taking Logan’s hand for a firm shake. Still, he smiles through it, already wary of the bot as something seems off about it. “I see you’ve kept our girl safe.”

“Your girl?” Logan inquires with the raise of a brow, eyes glancing between the two of them, having learnt the concept of jealousy. 

“Yes,” Scott smiles. “Our girl.”

Tired of the exchange, you remove Logan’s hand, it immediately loosening at your touch as you pull Scott and Hank in for a hug. “I’ve missed you guys so much.”

They both pull you in for a hug, but neither of them miss the way Logan watches them intently, noticing how his nostrils flare and his eyes flash blue. 

—

“I’m starting to understand why you were so hesitant on getting it now,” Hank gestures to Logan, who appears not to be paying too much mind to the two. His eyes glued to the television as he clicks between the shows. Hank’s left eye twitches, gently shaking his head as he watches from a distance. Scott shares the same concerns as well as he keeps some distance from Logan, residing on the opposite end of the couch. Unbeknownst to them that he hears it all. 

“Getting what?” you ask oblivious to what he’s referring to, sitting around the dining area with him. Looking at you in confusion, Hank notices a shift within your behavior. Where you were once angry and stiff at the prospect of a Cyberguard, you’re now seemingly comfortable with it inside your house.

“Logan,” Hank answers. “The cyberguard.”

“Oh,” you purse your lips, it dawning upon you. “Yeah, well, I took your advice and gave it a chance. I spoke to other people that had a cyberguard and they all said that if I gave it a chance, they could be very useful. And he is.”

“But,” Hank squirms, trying to word what he’s about to say perfectly. “Doesn’t it alarm you? How attached to hip he is to you?”

“He’s been like that the moment he finished updating the first time,” you shrug.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I mean, don’t you find him too human? The way he acted when he first came— how he’s watching television right now?”

“He’s just doing what he’s been programmed to do,” you take it so nonchalantly, dismissing Hank’s concerns. “And like I told you, everyone I spoke to said that was normal behavior. They evolve to better suit your needs.”

“I don’t know, (Y/N)...”

“Listen,” you exhale. “I still want you guys as my full-time bodyguards, but I have four more months left because the messages and the threats still haven’t cooled down. So I have to play it cool and go about my days as if it’s regular. He’s not a harm to anyone and if he becomes one, you and Scott will be the first people to know about it.”

You and Scott will be the first people to know about it. 

“Okay, fine,” Hank breathes, your apartment starting to feel uncomfortable. His voice picks up as he pushes out the chair. “Y’know what? We gotta go.”

“Huh?” you question the sudden movement. “Wait— what? Hank, nooooo.”

“Something just came up and we need to be there,” Hank motions to Scott to follow him, which doesn’t go questioned as he gets to his feet as well. Your chair legs scratch against the tile floor as you look from between the two, going after them as they hurry to the door. 

“Don’t be serious, Hank,” you pout. “Scott, please! We barely had any time together.”

“I think two hours was enough time,” Hank remarks, catching you off guard. Mouth going dry, you stop in your trail as your body stills. They make their way out as Scott throws an apologetic smile your way. “See you later, (Y/N).”

Storming to his vehicle, Hank doesn’t wait for Scott to catch up to him, simply unlocking his doors and jumping in. When Scott catches up, he only looks at Hank before waiting for him to speak.

“There’s something wrong with that bot,” Hank states the obvious.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Scott snorts. “What did (Y/N) say?”

“She referred to it as if it was a person,” Hank looks at Scott. “She never usually gives in so easily.”

“Well,” Scott shifts in the seat, reaching for the seatbelt. “We did tell her to try to.”

“Yeah, but even so,” Hank shakes his head. “There’s something wrong with it. Staring us down as if we were stealing his girl. Questioning us— ‘your girl?’ That’s (Y/N)’s living nightmare and she didn’t seem to suspect a thing.”

“You’re right,” Scott mumbles. “We definitely have to report our suspicions. That thing isn’t safe for her.”

“You’re telling me,” Hank exasperates, finally starting the car engine, putting the car in reverse. Pulling out of the spot, Hank looks towards your apartment, immediately noticing the window. There Logan is, glaring right at the two of them.

“And there goes the fucker,” he curses. “Watching us.”

—

When he’s finally outside of his eyesight, he shuts back the curtains and trudges back to your slumped body on the couch. For them to have the nerve of showing up to only put you in an upset state. Logan has never seen you like this before, it elicits a certain reaction that feels carnal and violent. He clenches his fists, nails digging into his faux skin before he feels something piercing it. It’s only a sliver before he retracts and goes back into a calming state, but he felt it— whatever it was. 

“You’re not okay,” he states. “Would you like for me to start the shower for you so that you can relax?”

He remembers you mentioning that the shower was your only time where you got to properly relax and think. The heat of the water calms you down to the point you’d stay until the water gets cold and your skin resembles a prune. He wishes he could experience that feeling with you. He’d need it in a moment like this where he feels something flaring up within his chest. 

Pushing yourself to sit up, you nod. “Yeah, maybe that’ll do some good.”

He does what he suggested, heading straight to the bathroom in order to start the water. Pushing in the plug and sprinkling in the bath salts for you before turning on the pipe. He sets it close to red, waiting until he recognizes the scent of lavender and patchouli and sees the steam starting to form. He teeters and plays with the temperature before the water is at a reasonable height before switching off the pipe, and announcing that it’s ready.

It takes you a moment to get up from the couch, shuffling your way towards the bathroom. You don’t acknowledge his kindness, never thanking him before you shut the bathroom door and twist the lock despite the many times he’s advised you not to. He ignores it, turning on his heel as he heads straight for the door. In his database, he pulls up Henry McCoy and Scott Summers. 

When you get out of the shower, it’s too quiet. However, your mind is fogged with hurt to even care. If anything, Logan’s silence is a blessing right now. It’s what you need. Reaching for your towel and you unplug the drag, hearing the gurgling sound of water traveling down the pipe. A shower was exactly what you needed, though you still feel emotions bubbling on your chest as your sadness turns into anger. You feel foolish for being mad at Hank’s concern, but you knew the moment he stood up that it was bullshit as to why he was leaving.

You had cooperated with everyone. You did what they told you to do for the couple of months that you’ve been placed on house arrest. You constantly checked in with Anna Marie and the rest of those who got hurt, knowing that they’re in better and healthier conditions now that the months have passed. You stayed silent on social media and rarely checked in, but now that you are complacent, just like it was expected of you, Hank had the audacity to be mad at you. 

Logan’s behavior was questionable, you couldn’t doubt it, but you believed it to be the way he was programmed. To be locked inside for so long to the point you barely left the house, and when you did, it was to go on your patio. He had been skeptical of your neighbors, eyeing them down and collecting information in a manner of minutes. He needed to know who could be a possible threat to you, and maybe, just maybe, saying “our girl” had flashed some red flags in his hard drive.

The bath wasn’t enough, you conclude, pulling on a baggy t-shirt and shorts before diving onto your bed. Sleep would have to be the final blow.

—

The claws that stretched from his knuckles were covered in blood and the flesh he cut into. Two lifeless bodies before him laid there as he bent down to rip out a clean piece of fabric. He’s done research on Cyberguard, learning that there is something wrong with him. In his files, none of it mentions the metal claws coming out of his hands. But, that’s the only flaw he has come to accept.

He’s been gone for too long, and while the sky is dark, there’s still a possibility that you’re still awake. He’s grateful to know where you’ve stashed your spare key. However, with one look at him, he’s dirty and you’d know that he’s been out. Having never left your side, he doesn’t want to take a chance seeing you speculate his whereabouts. 

Cleaning the blades that protrude his skin, he finds one thing about his robotic state useful. He has no fingerprints. Inside of Hank’s apartment, it becomes Logan’s personal closet as he rids himself of his clothes and replaces them with something new and similar to what he previously had on. He wipes down his boots, however, not stopping until it shines and fixes his hair. When everything about him seems like nothing is out of the ordinary, he’s finally ready to leave. 

However, through the windows, he starts to see the flashing of red and blue. He’s seen too many films and documentaries to know that it’s not a good sign. He’s grateful that he never planned to leave the way he came in, quickly searching for another escape route. Sliding the patio door open, he shuts it back quickly before making the long jump, not caring how it may affect the inside of him. He was made to withstand many things, so this fall shouldn’t be a heavy detriment. He grunts when he makes the landing, dashing out of the light as he quickly conjures up another route back to you. 

By the time he locks the door, taking a step into your apartment, you’re fast asleep. You’ve left the television on and by the way that there’s no dishes in the sink, you fell asleep on an empty stomach. He huffs at your lack of care for yourself. Luckily, there are leftovers to which he can feed you when you awake. He switches off the television before making a beeline straight to your bedroom door. It’s shut and when he twists the handle, it’s completely dark inside. He inches closer towards you, where he can check on your heart rate, when he notices that it’s at a pace to when you’re waking up. Your voice sounds before he can completely register.

“Logan,” you squeak, voice scratchy as you take a seat in the bed. You reach to turn on your bedside lamp, revealing your disheveled and exhausted state. The t-shirt you’re wearing has been cut around the neck, to the point where it can fall and reveal your breasts. “What have I told you about watching me like a creep?”

You giggle, indicating that you haven’t detected a thing, still completely unaware. Great.

However, his eyes roam you, taking notice of your pert nipples and how they poke through your shirt. Your bonnet is sliding off your head, and your eyes are still burdened with sleep that he now completely understands the sexual appeal. He feels something whirr inside him before he’s taking a seat next to you without a word. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he breathes. “I’ve watched your movies, seen porn and watched men and women have— same sex and the opposite gender.”

He can feel your heart rate pick up as you become more awake, processing his words. “Logan, what—”

“I want to try out what I’ve learned,” he cuts you off. Your eyes widen as it comes to dawn on you that maybe Hank was right. That maybe you have become blinded and completely oblivious to the way Logan acts. You start to question your colleagues and everyone else who's told you about their experiences, always hinting at more, but you never caught on to what they were saying. They said that Cyberguard could always do more, that you could work them to your own benefit. Was this what they meant by that? 

Before you can utter out another word, Logan’s invading more of your space and you can feel the heat of him on you. “Don’t tell me no. Please don’t tell me no.”

Your breath hitches because you should be scared. You should tell me no and part of you does, but you’ve also grown curious. His eyes shine blue at that moment, and you gulp. Your body speaks for you, reaching to cling onto the fabric of his shirt. Something about it feels foreign to your touch, but you don’t question it. You question none of it, only staring into his harsh brown eyes and nodding. “Okay,” you whisper. 

It’s all that he needs to hear for confirmation, pulling you tight within his hold as he wastes no time in putting you on his lap. Staring into your eyes before they traverse down your body, how no matter what, you always manage to shine. He tugs at your shirt, pulling further down to reveal your breasts. Your dark nipples pebbled and sensitive as they scrape against the fabric and your breath hitches in need. Your hips buck into him, hands wrapping around his neck dig your fingers into his skin. It feels soft, the texture closely imitating the real thing. 

“Logan,” you gasp, feeling how his pelvis meets you at your core, eliciting a string of your juices at the friction. Seeing the desire in your eyes, the visceral want and need inside them. It’s all he’s ever wanted. It makes him feel equal— equal to you. His hand reaches to caress your face, feeling the hairs against your skin before squeezing down gently and making your lips pucker out a bit.

“Tell me that you need me,” he whispers, voice growing huskier as his hold gets tighter. “Tell me how much you want me.”

“I need you, Logan,” you give him exactly what he wants, hips rising as your heat only grows. “Need you and want you so badly… It hurts.”

You don’t know what you’re saying, not sure if you’re telling him that he’s hurting you or that if the ache in your sweet cunt needs to be alleviated to the point it hurts. The ladder feels more true as you clench around nothing, a coil in your stomach starting to form in a want that you’ve never experienced before. Staring back into his pupils that shimmer of blue is still there. “Tell me you love me.”

“I—” you choke, not sure if you’re able to muster up those words, remembering that he’s not real. You splutter as his hand wraps around your neck, squeezing to the point you can barely breathe. “I—”

In a matter of seconds, you’re on your back, the wind knocked out of you before you can even process the change of positions. There’s something maniacal about the way Logan looks at you now, the fine lines on his forehead fixed in fury as he searches through eyes, staring down into your pupils for the truth. “Don’t worry,” he assures you. “I’ll make sure you learn to.” 

His lips crash down into yours, feeling the wetness of your tongue as he sucks you in. His weight against you keeps you still, trapping you in your dared to move. Your arms still draped around his neck, cling to him as mewl and whine at the pressure of his weight. Bucking your hips ever so slightly, feeling your arousal cling to your panties and seep down to the crotch of your shorts. 

Is this right? A sense of rationality seeping through you, residing deep in your bones as something nags at your chest. Your sense of morality, what you’ve been using your career to fight for. This goes against it. However, the more you fought, the more people got hurt. Flashes of Anna Marie plaguing your memory as your rapport against Logan weakens in a matter of seconds. You sought for a change for it to only falter and nearly end lives. So is it wrong to give in once more? 

Logan starts to thrust his hips into you, grunts and groans that he replicates from what he’s seen, his motion sensors feeling his appendage rub against your pussy and eliciting something within him— lust. “You’ll be mine by the end of all this. You won’t be needing them.”

You have no clue as to what he’s talking about, focusing on yourself and the need you have for Logan right now. His kiss is rough against your skin, your saliva softening the contact as he hums against you. He nips and bites at you ever-so-often, nearly drawing blood until his sensors go off. He feels like an animal, needing you in a way that’s entirely inhumane. The adrenaline of killing your former pets still coursing through his veins, proud to be your only one as of now. As of forever. 

“Let me have you whatever way I want,” he commands. “Give me permission to.”

There’s no doubt in your mind, quickly to oblige him without a second thought. “Of course. Yes, Logan.”

Your shirt tears, a loud rip sounding through the silence of your bedroom. It’s a true show of his brute strength in your eyes, but for him, it’s not even an inch to what he’s truly capable of. The next he rids you of are your shorts, leaving your flimsy panties for last as he can see the wet patch right at the crotch of it. A thumb presses down on it, just as he’s seen through many videos. However, he’s not gentle when he pushes down on your clit, seeing bubbles starting to form through the cotton. 

You mewl in slight discomfort, squirming underneath him that he slaps your inner thigh and demanding that you stay still. One hand holds you down to make sure of it as he glides his thumb up and down, feeling your wetness. “Mmmm…” he drags, feeling satisfaction at how he’s making you feel. 

He slips your panties to the side, it being the one thing he doesn’t want to damage through this intercourse. His thumb pushing right at your entrance to feel how your body tenses at the invasion. “Relax,” he whispers. “You know I would never bring you into real harm.”

The reminder settles you down as he spreads your legs wider for him, his thumb protruding your walls and getting a taste of what it feels like. The both of you moan in delight, his thick digit pushing until the hilt. However, it doesn’t fill you up like you want and need, ultimately needing more of him. He’s dead set on tormenting you, fucking you languidly and slowly with his thumb. He basks in the squelch of your pussy, how your arousal bubbles and drips out of you and down in the crevices of your ass. 

“Logan,” you whine. “More.”

“Do you think you deserve it?” he retorts, pulling out his thumb to glide against your folds and back up to your clit. “Do you think you deserve more?”

“Yes, I do,” you nod meekly. “Know I do.”

“Is that so?” he hums, and you can only nod some more. He chuckles, thinking about Hank and Scott once more. How you were so eager to invite other men into your home. Not considering him and how he’d feel to other men around you. Did you really care so little about your own safety? But, he’ll still give you what you want— what you need. Maybe it’ll be the best medicine to heal you. 

Pressing his thumb against your lip, he pushes down as they stay closed. “Open,” he commands. “Taste how wet you are for me.”

Just the obedient girl you’re proving yourself to be, you open up your mouth. Immediately, your tongue swirls around his thumb, cleaning off your arousal. Eye contact remains with him, eyes seeming to sparkle as you hum and moan around his digit. A violent groan builds up from the pit of the chest as he can only imagine the other men you’ve been with. It’s enough for him to yank you by the waist into him and flip you around, treating you as if you’re a ragdoll. 

Your back is to him now, pressed against his chest. You can still feel his clothes on, realizing just how vulnerable you are as he moves you against his clothed state. His arms wrap around your neck, bulging out to cut off the flow of air. Veins protrude and it becomes dizzying as he whispers in your ear. “You’re a nasty little slut, I hope you know that.”

Everything about this is exhausting. The quick and swift changes in emotions, how he goes from being needy and wanting to manhandling you as if you’re nothing. From wanting you to tell him that you love him to degrading you. You can’t wrap your mind around it as his grip tightens around you and your vision becomes fuzzy. He fluctuates with his hold, knowing just when you’re about to lose consciousness and not. He’s coming to find it to be a fun game, toying with your safety. 

“Only I should be the cause of your pain and pleasure,” he seethes into your ear. “Do you hear me?”

When you don’t respond, you feel a sting against your pussy. You yelp out at the pain as he repeats himself, “do you hear me?”

It’s menacing and guttural to the point where you’re tearing up. You nod as you croak out, “yes.”

“You’re going to take what I give you, okay?” He waits for your approval. “Just like you promised from before. No going back on your word because you’re a good girl.”

He affirms this before he’s rolling his hips, making you feel the bulge against your ass. One arm around your neck as your hands cling to it as the next pulls your hips into him. He continues at this until your breathing is erratic and he’s done his tormenting. 

Then he shuffled around to tug down his jeans, ridding himself of both the garment and undergarment, but not before kicking off his boots. They fall to the ground with a clunk as his jeans pool at his feet and he can hear them rubbing together before they’re successfully off. You can feel it against your back, how it’s large and inhuman. Eyes that bulge as you arch your back.

“Logan, you’re so big,” you gasp. “Don’t know if—” 

He hushes you with another smack, this one softer than the previous. Shhh follows after as he calms you. “You promised, didn’t you?”

You can only hum out a response as the bicep around your neck tightens. 

“You’re a strong girl. It’ll fit.”

Arms reaching underneath your legs, holding underneath the joints of your knees to lift them up to your chest. He pulls you up, making you rise until he can slot his dick in between your folds and your underwear. With both of his arms occupied, he can only have faith within the band of fabric to keep his length in place. Strings of your juices drip down to the sheets of your bed, small droplets being absorbed as you coat his cock in your essence. A sweet nectar that many people want to taste, but he’ll be sure to prevent it from happening. 

He bounces you on his lap, letting go of your legs and pressing himself further against you. There’s many things that he wishes himself to do. Like the ability to get hard, to be able for you to feel just how you make him feel. For precum to leak from the tip of his cock and not the illusion of a hole just for the accuracy of his design. He wants you to feel him twitch inside you before he cums, shooting ropes of white as your pussy milks him. However, he can only align his cock with your entrance and make you feel good. But, how is he supposed to feel equal to you if he can’t replicate a real man?

He takes his time entering you, his head testing the waters before he’s entering inch by inch. He can press into your stomach, feeling where his head stops as he can’t fully sheath himself inside you. Just as you had claimed. He was too big. Still, he upholds the power as his arm goes to wrap snug around your legs, lifting them up to push into your breasts as the next blocks you from smooth breathing. 

He’s no gentleman as he’s painted himself to be, laying on his back and pulling down with him. Drilling into your cunt with a vice grip around your body that you constantly are on the very fine line between passing out and consciousness. Still, your mind stays warped within the pleasure, focusing on how it’s making you feel and wanting him more. Your room is filled with the sound of yours and his moans intermingling with the slaps of your wet pussy and his dangerous thrusts as the stench of your cunt seeps through the conditioned air. Your cunt squelches, queefing every so often as it gets wetter. Tears staining your face as you call out his name and begging for more.

You cry out in pleasure, feeling how his cock beats down at your walls, kissing at your cervix. Constantly hitting that one spot inside of you that he has you seeing stars. You’re starting to choke out your moans, trying to make a coherent sentence out to him. “Lo-Lo— ‘m g’nna…”

You don’t have to finish what you’re about to say for him to know. Your body convulses and pulsates as he continues, keeping the same vigorous pain as he’ll have your pussy bruised and battered by the end of it. “C’mon,” he groans into your ear. “Cum like the good little bitch that you are.”

With a few more thrusts, a translucent mess splashes from you, splattering at great lengths from your sheet covers and down to the ground. Your body vibrates and spasms as Logan’s hold on you eases and he lets your body calm down. You’re breathing heavily as your throat’s gone dry and the dark and splotchy vision clears up. You exhale sharply as you come to terms with everything. Your naked body and Logan’s cock inside of you. He’s planting chaste kisses against your neck and jawline, holding you close to him. 

“Now you’ve got everything you need.”

—

The next morning, you wake up clean, except for your sheets. You can still feel dampness from your release as well as the arms that hold you close to them. You let out a yawn, squinting as the sun dares to peek through the blinds as you see your phone lighting up and over one hundred messages flashing over it. Some from Charles, others from Erik and the rest from Ororo. Glancing at Logan, he remains in slip mode, the light where a heart would be lighting up yellow. 

Plenty of the notifications are from incessant missed calls that rang from five in the morning until now before an urgent message reading, Call as soon as you wake up, from both Charles and Erik. The next set of messages you check from Ororo, having called you back to back as well before these rows of messages.

From Ororo: From what I’m guessing, you’re asleep and your phone is on silent. When you get this CALL ME.

From Ororo: You’re still not up and it’s important that you know what happened. I’m sorry.

From Ororo: [link attached]

You click on the link, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, absentmindedly clicking the link. The video you’re brought to is on medium volume, but it seems like it’s at full volume the moment it starts playing, just as Logan’s light turns to green.

This just in! Two men found dead inside of their shared apartment home. Neighbors have reported loud and worrisome sounds at the dead of night, saying it sounded like a very brutal fight before screams of pain sounded through walls. When police arrived, the two bodies were found in such a gruesome state. 

They were seen to have three deep gashes in their skin, closely resembling an animal attack before being impaled in the chest. It’s speculated to be an animal attack, but authorities are speculating as the escape route seemed to be through the balcony door and having jumped five stories down. They’re battling between who or what could’ve done such a monstrous thing. 

The two victims that were identified were Henry McCoy and Scott Summers—

Your phone is snatched from your hands as you choke out a sob, having caught a glimpse of their faces on screen. While Logan would typically tend to your tears and heartache, the news outlet blinds him from doing so as he turns off the video and sets your phone down on the opposite side of you and out of reach.

“You shouldn’t burden yourself with such things in the early morning.”

[nightfal1n]

Reno's ride-or-die policy toward Kafka is outstanding but there's something about Kafka letting the boy 14 years younger than him scolds, drop kicks, handchops etc. on him without getting angry even once. Even when Reno's "don't transform senpai" reached its stupidity peak during the raid on Tachikawa base you'd think Kafka will yell back at him at least once but instead, he just keep his reason in his mind and go ahead. Especially when compared side-by-side with how Iharu reacts to Reno being Reno most of the times.

The same goes to his attitude toward Kikoru when she's in need of help. He don't even smirk or telling her to act better around him. He just help her, encourage her, and telling her she shouldn't be too reckless. Yes he allow himself to goof around, stealthy transforming to get the car back up just to look cool. But when it's really matter, he'll stand to protect her and demand nothing.

It's easy to feel offended, to want to getting back at someone for talking down on you. But Kafka with his life experience understand very well that Reno (being a kid) is just worried, and Kikoru (also being a kid) just want some kind of approval. Kafka might not meet all categories of what social expect from a grown adult (not many does), sometimes he just flat out a manchild but he's definitely not a teenager in adult body by any means.

[goemon-fan]

"He should be at the-"

[cowboysmp3]

watching naruto at the ripe age of 21 is so unimaginably different for when i watched it when i was like 10. rn im so haunted by them being such kids like GOD THEYRE ONLY 12!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAOUGGHHH