#he's the last of their kind i'm clawing the walls right now

[miffyghost]

sorry i just thought about 'without you i am surely the last of our kind' in relation to crowley and aziraphale being on their own side but aziraphale left him oh my GOD

[dollfacefantasy]

I WANNA BE YOURS ♡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Night's not over yet, bub."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A mutant. Like you."

His eyes narrow.

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

"I can smell it," you answer.

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

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

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

"You smell metallic too," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For how long?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pretty good," he says simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know that," he interjects quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll play nice," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What is your actual mutation?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods and watches you examine his hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And of course, you had Logan.

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

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

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

"No," you'd respond.

"Well, find something."

"I don't wanna."

And who was he to argue with that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lean into it now and nuzzle his palm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah you were. Even worse than usual."

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

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

"You wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You have it bad," she teases.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You go to continue, but she cuts you off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"C'mon. You're ok."

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

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

"Yeah I did."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And I still wanna be your little puppy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mhm," you whimper with a faint nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know," you beam.

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

Now it would be his turn to follow you.

[talaok]

Your hands around my neck

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You choke Joel for the first time in bed, and he likes it... maybe even a bit too much.

Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, choking, premature ejaculation, kind of sub!Joel, dirty talk.

a/n: how ironic that lately ive been the most creative that ive been in months. right when writing should be the last thing on my mind.

You were on top of him, and his gaze was glued to you.

To your tits bouncing with your movements, to your parted mouth emanating desperate sounds, to your eyes shutting as you threw your head back, to your nails clawing at his chest, and to where your bodies became one.

He was mesmerized by you like he always was,

and while he lost himself in the pleasure you brought, in how fucking good you were making him feel, and how fuking perfect you looked doing it... he didn't catch the switch in your expression, the mischievous grin pulling at your lips, or the way your hands were suddenly traveling up his chest, until finally-

His eyes widened the moment your hands wrapped around his neck, putting just enough pressure for him to lose his mind.

A groan loud enough for the entire town to hear erupted from his chest, as pleasure so fucking deep into his core took over his body.

"You like that?" you taunted, biting down a grin as you kept bouncing on his cock

"fuck-goddamn-" he could only grunt, his head tilting backward, his eyes just about rolling to the back of his head as his chest rose and fell like he'd just come back to life.

He didn't know what any of this was. What this feeling, this ecstasy, this pleasure came from.

But god it felt good.

"You like having my hands around your neck baby?" you hummed, tightening your hold just enough to watch a needy cry flee his lips "you look so pretty like this" You smiled,

and fuck him, but Joel was gone. he was in another universe, he was in heaven, and he was-

he was about to come

"darlin-'" he tried to warn you

"shh" you stopped him "There's no need to talk now" you shook your head, lowering yourself until your mouth could ghost his "just take what I give you" you said, taking his bottom lip into your mouth and biting "you're doing so good for me baby"

Good Christ and heaven

His pride went flying out the window. Any shame, any embarrassment that he ever could have felt, dissipated into nothing as he heard himself whimper- as he moaned your name like a prayer... as his cock twitched into your cunt, painting your walls with his come.

"fuck-I'm sorry sweetheart-" he started apologizing immediately once he came back down from cloud nine and realized what had happened.

Only of course you were smiling like a kid as you freed his neck from your hold.

"you're sorry?"

"Yeah" he breathed, watching you closely as you moved some sweaty hair out of his forehead "I don't know what happened- I- I've never-"

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen Joel" You cut him off "Did you like it?"

And at that, Joel couldn't help but chuckle

If it had been anybody else, he would have been mortified, he realized, but with you... there was no such thing

"I think the proof of how much I liked it is leakin' out of you as we speak, darlin'"

You giggled, your eyes trailing to where your bodies still joined, noticing exactly what he was talking about.

"Oh I'm gonna have so much fun with this" you murmured, both of you smiling like idiots as your mouth crushed with one another.

[bi-writes]

the knock at his door is a ferocious one. it rattles the hinges, shakes the doorway. it is not a kind knock. it is the knock of anger, of impending terror, of death at his door, but he knows that if he doesn't answer, he will be even more sorry. (ghoap x curvy!fem!reader, 18+, smidge of dark)

johnny isn't happy. he yanks the door open, glaring, knowing who is on the other side. his superior, his lieutenant, the fucking tart that started this whole thing in the first place, the bastard that stands a few inches too tall, is that what she sees in him, too tall, is that much bigger than me, the fucking--

"dinnae want t'talk to ye, ye fuckin'--"

"'f y'know wot's fuckin' good f'ya, you'll shut y'r fuckin' mouth," ghost snaps. his accent is thick and gravelly. he moves over the threshold, pushing johnny back, his eyes dulling over as he presses an accusing finger against johnny's chest. "y'r gonna pick up the bloody phone, 'n y'r gonna call 'er."

"she's a right--"

ghost hisses, a heady growl coming out roughly as he grips johnny around the throat and slams him against the nearest wall. the entirety of it shakes, and the pictures there nearly fall, and johnny chokes as he tries to scramble, but ghost is too strong, too rough, too overpowering. there is something behind his movements, some purpose, and it makes something acidic bubble in johnny's throat.

"don't you fuckin' dare finish that sentence," ghost snarls. "don't care wot it is y'think y'feel, do y'really wanna have tha' on your conscious, y'fuckin' bastard, yeah? want her t'know tha' is the last thing y'called her?"

johnny sputters. he's gasping for air, but it's hard, and his eyes water. even though johnny hates him, even though he loathes the man he used to admire, he knows ghost is right. his lip trembles. it wouldn't be right to say it, it wouldn't be right to call you anything other than what you are, and that is beautiful, bonnie, the stars in the sky and the water in the soil and the dream he always has but cannot remember but one he knows is all he wants and more.

"ye took 'er from me," johnny gasps. "took her from me, and she's all i've ever wanted..."

"took nothin' from ya. now call 'er," ghost growls. "pick up the phone, and y'call her. she's hysterical. 'n i won't 'av it."

"ye won't 'av it? fuck off with ye!"

ghost tilts his head to the side, using his forearm now and pinning johnny to the wall. they meet eyes, and even though johnny pulls a brave face, he is staring at a man who clawed his way out of his grave. a man that endured days of torture and inexplicable horror, that knew the taste of his own blood from another's. johnny is strong-willed, but this is a battle he will not win.

"won't tell ya again," ghost mutters. "i mean tha'."

johnny's tired. he loathes. he hates. he feels sick. he wants to claw and kill and blow something up, but then ghost is letting him go, he's taking in full breaths, and there's a voice in his ear suddenly, an unfamiliar sound of a beautiful voice that he knows. she's crying.

"johnny? j-johnny, i-is that you?"

"mmmph," he coughs. "mmm..."

even riddled with sadness, you sound as pretty as always.

"johnny, i'm sorry," you whimper. he can picture your face, probably a gorgeous pout, tears gathering along your cheeks that normally are from the brunt of his cock, but now they're the proper response from your panic. "johnny, i'm...i'm so sorry--"

"'s..." he hums. "'s a'right, lovey. shhh. quiet."

"johnny, please--please come home, i-i...i can't stand this, i don't want to...i-i--"

"told ye to quiet," he murmurs. "quiet."

and you do, but he knows there's tears, he knows you're probably still there on the other side, your cries muffled into your hand. you probably still look so beautiful, probably sitting there in one of his jackets and nothing else, perched on the bed he shares with you and looking like an entire meal.

"ye lied to me, bonnie," johnny tuts, and ghost steps closer, into his space. watch it, his eyes say, and johnny glares. "why did ye lie?"

you whine, "i didn't know what to say...i...i just thought--"

"ye thought what?" johnny prods. "ye thought i would nae find out about it all? what did ye think, what the bloody fuckin' hell did ye--"

ghost walks forward, enough that johnny is pressed flat against the wall. ghost leans down, tilting his head, close enough that he feels the warmth of johnny's breath as they stare down each other.

"say y'love 'er, johnny," ghost mumbles in his ear. he comes closer, one thick thigh fitting between johnny's legs. "say it."

johnny swallows. "i love ye, bonnie."

a quiet whine, and then your soft voice, "i-i love you so much, johnny--"

"say y'want her, johnny," ghost encourages him, in that low voice that is starting to make johnny's head a little lighter.

"i miss ye," johnny whispers. "sorry for not having me head on right, love..." he hisses when ghost pinches him. "ahh--i want ye. want yer bonnie face...yer bonnie cunt...got to know it. got to know how much i want ye."

ghost shuts his eyes when he hears your breaths. desperate, a little emotional, that beautiful lilt that drew him in the first time.

"tell 'er ye want to eat 'er, johnny," ghost hums. "tell 'er she tastes like sweets." ghost comes closer, his pelvis against johnny's, and there is no space between them. johnny's blue eyes are bright, pupils dilated, and when ghost opens his eyes, they stare at each other, some kind of understanding that they have never had before.

they've been to the same place. they've seen the same eden. the love of the same woman, the taste of the same forbidden fruit, the kind of thing that men like them dream of having but give up for the sake of their sanity--

"want to eat ye, love..." johnny sighs, and his eyes flutter when ghost reaches up and smooths a gloved hand along his throat. his adam's apple bobs, he is so alive, and ghost tuts lowly as he speaks. "taste so good...think about it all the time...about getting under yer skirt," he sighs deeply when ghost's hand moves lower, against his chest, "cum so nice, bonnie, when ye sit on m'face..."

"j-johnny--" ghost grits his teeth when he hears you. pretty baby girl, probably squeezing your thick thighs together, maybe leaning over to show off your soft hips to no one in particular, tits pressed together because your hand is drifting low and circling against you because he knows you probably aren't wearing any fucking knickers, "anything for you, baby...you know i would, you know i'd do anything..."

"i know, my pretty," johnny coos. "will ye wait for me? will ye wait before ye get ahead of yerself, love? ye will, yer a good girl..."

"y-yes--" you whine. "y-yes, i'll wait for you...please come back...please--"

"should i bring back yer keeper?" johnny asks. blue eyes on dark ones, the look of a thousand words, the look of newness, of acceptance, of the power of two being so much greater than one.

two gloved fingers make their way down his throat. petting johnny's pink tongue, stuffing him full, reminding him of his place, where he truly is, where he belongs and where he is always meant to be. he relaxes his throat, and ghost snarls, satisfied, when johnny takes the girth of it easily. he touches the back of johnny's throat, and ghost's eyes flash when he hears your sweet voice on the other end.

"simon...i know you're there. be nice. or we won't get to play."

[zoromuse]

want you (need you) | headcannons

taking an aphrodisiac with them and seeing who gives in first

characters. eustass kid, monkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, vinsmoke sanji

general cw. f!reader, aphrodisiacs, just overall desperate men

a/n. based on this ask, thank you for requesting, i had such fun writing this <3

part two

EUSTASS KID

cw. mention of thigh riding, bulge

It definitely takes some convincing for him, but once he sees the competitive aspect of it, he’s kind of driven to the idea. 

At first he found it kind of amusing, since he could see it started affecting you first; even though you said you were fine when he asked you, he didn’t miss the way you clenched your thighs for some friction from time to time. 

Then it started affecting him, his body growing hot all over, from his cocks to his heat that were bright red from all the nerves, but he’d rather die than give in first. 

In the end, you’d have to give up and ask him for what you want, he’s too stubborn to lose and you can’t take it anymore.

You were the first to pounce on him, straddling his lap and quickly grinding on his thigh to get any sort of relief you could find. Your thighs tremble on either side of his waist, and you’re panting wildly because it feels like you’ve been holding your breath ever since you felt the delicious drag of his cock in your walls for the first time of the night, but you’ve never felt better. 

You bask in the afterglow of your orgasm for the next few minutes before you realize he’s growing hard inside of you again. You’re terrified to look anywhere, down to the place you connect with him for fear of seeing the bulge he’s surely leaving in your tummy, and absolutely terrified to look up to his face for fear of being met with the unchanging animalistic look of his face.

"Did you think I would be satisfied with just one time? I was just waiting for you to give in, now I'm gonna have my way with you…"

MONKEY D. LUFFY

cw. whiny luffy

He is always willing to try anything you want, so I don't think it would take a lot of convincing. 

He understood the competitive aspect of it, but as soon as he started feeling the effects of the aphrodisiac he got extra touchy with you.

When you remind him you were supposed to see who could last the longest away from each other, it's almost like he doesn't hear you.

"Fuck that, I need you right now"

“W-wait!” you exclaim, his hands pushing at the dip of your fack to get you to arch further into him. This isn’t his favorite position, he much prefers so see you bounce on his lap and make a mess of yourself, or just simple missionary where he can see all the pretty faces he causes in you with every drag of his cock, but he’ll take this for now. 

“No please, I don’t wanna stop…” he all but whines. His cock keeps abusing that same spot he knows drives you crazy, that’s why you’re having such a hard time voicing your concerns. 

“You can’t be so… l-loud, someone might hear!” Your warnings fall to deaf ears, his pace is unrelenting and shows no signs of stopping anytime soon, despite this being the third time tonight. The substance only gave him a boost on his already big stamina, and you’re starting to regret suggesting this to him. 

“I love you so much,” he said. “I don’t care if anyone hears, I just want to-... mmm f-fuck-!”

RORONOA ZORO

cw. lots of dirty talk, a little bit of mean dom zoro if u squint, mating press, bulge

Much like Kid, he likes the competitiveness of it all, so it’s easy to convince him about this idea. 

I think he would take a more teasing approach on it though.

As soon as he sees you’re feeling the same heat he is, he starts whispering dirty things in your ear to get you to give in first.

“You’re so warm, bet you feel so hot down there too, don’t you?” “How long are you going to keep pretending you don’t want me to bend you over and fuck you right now?"

“Fuck, thank god…” he groans, his hands holding your legs pressed to your chest as you claw at the sheets next to you. “Didn’t know how much longer I could take” 

The irony of it all is that you didn’t know how much longer you could take this. His grasp on your legs and the way his cock hits all the right spots you were aching to have filled, it’s so overwhelming, and yet it’s everything you had been craving tonight.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his thrusts growing deeper and harder, if possible. “Too dumb to talk now?”

You nod, knowing if you tried speaking a mixture of slurred and unintelligible words would be the only thing falling past your lips. He doesn’t mind though, he likes watching you go dumb on his cock, still mindful enough to look down at the way his cock keeps bulging at your tummy. 

VINSMOKE SANJI

cw. dacryphilia if u squint

He’s willing to try anything for you, so it literally only takes suggesting it for him to agree. 

He tries to act like it’s fine, part of him wants to impress you, and part of him wants to see you beg for him. 

Then again, he’s not very patient when it comes to you, so he’ll start with sloppy kisses to your neck, acting like he’s trying to make you give in first.

Eventually it turns into him cursing under his breath, and before he realizes the words are coming out, he’s begging for you to give him something, anything.

“Fuck-!” He groans, throwing his head back. You’re riding him, your tits are bouncing to the rhythm of your hips and your hands are grasping at his chest for balance. He keeps bucking his hips into you, and it’s throwing you off, but he’s reaching the deepest spots of your walls and you’re not sure how much longer you’ll last.

Still, it’s not enough for him. 

He turns you both over, your back landing on the bed with a cry because he took you by surprise, and his hands now on either side of your body, holding himself up as your legs wrap around his waist and he fucks into you just the way he knows you like it.

Sanji hates to see you cry, but somehow he finds the sight of your tears prickling at the corners of your closed eyes so appealing, it almost drives him to the edge. Almost. He wouldn’t even think about leaving his baby unsatisfied.

© quanxxiluv 2022 | all content belongs to quanxxiluv, do not modify or repost

[sparrowrye]

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part Pilot

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies you also die. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hair on the back of my neck rose half a second before something hard hit my head. I couldn't see anything but I could still feel when I hit the pavement. I rolled onto my back and tried to kick up at whoever was there.

Multiple hands grabbed me and dragged my across the hard ground. I felt my strength slowly coming back with my sight. There wasn't much to see as three dark figures towered above me. My back cracked when they slammed me into the wall.

One of them grabbed my jaw and dug their fingers into my cheek. I tried clenching my teeth but they easily pried my mouth open. I tried flicking my wrist but the rocks under my feet barely moved. They had hit my head so I couldn't use my magic. Now they were trying to drug me. Keep a mage discombobulated or high and they can't use their magic.

One of them had their entire weight on my legs and the other had my arms pinned against my side. They slipped a powder past my lips and clamped my mouth shut. I took a deep breath before they pinched my nose. I had only seconds before I passed out and they could get the rest of the powder down my throat. It was already soaking into my tongue and cheeks. I tried scrapping it against my teeth.

The weight on my feet disappeared. I tried kicking them but there was nothing but air. I pulled my leg up and dug my heel in their groin. They fell back and slammed into the wall behind them at an inhuman speed. I reached for the last attacker's eyes and dig my nails in. He let go and jumped over me as if to run. I immediately spat on the ground and wiped my tongue with the back of my hand.

I looked around at the dark alley. Everything was starting to double, the colors a wild red and blue. Some of it had gotten into my system. I saw two men laying still on the ground, the other running for the bright road. Something flew past my face and strikes him dead center in the back of his head. His body fell limp.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

I turned over my shoulder to see Alastor, the Radio Demon, towering above me. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark alley and his coat was as red as blood. I knew he was tall but he looked even more terrifying in person. His long, red fingers were outstretched in a kind gesture.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"Is that any way to treat your savior?" He moved his hand closer, edging me to accept his offer.

"Why would you help me?" I rubbed the back of my head and winced. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. He stood a full head taller than me but he seemed oddly skinny. He didn't have the muscle I had.

"I know rumors deem me a dark light, but I can assure you I'm still a gentleman at heart. How could I let those fools continue their assault?" He wiped his hand on his coat as if I had some kind of germ or disease on me.

"I didn't ask for the help so I'm in no way obligated to do anything you ask," I said. I looked down to examine my hands because that was better than staring at his terrifying eyes. I lost my balance and fell backwards into the wall.

He grabbed my wrist and roughly pulled it up. I tried pulling it back but he held on painfully tight. I could picture him using his sharp teeth to slice it off in one bite. But he didn't. He dropped my hand and grabbed my chin next. He turned my head as if examining my neck. I tilted my head back and pulled away. I slammed into the wall again but tripped on my own feet, landing right on my tailbone.

He leaned down and grabbed my face again. I tried digging my nails into his wrist but my strength had disappeared. The drug was taking full effect now. "Let go of me, demon," I spat. He used his other hand and dragged a claw down my cheek. I cried and tried pushing him away with my feet. He stepped back, his smile never fading. I covered my bloody cheek and stared him down.

I had managed to stay free for five years. I wasn't about to fall into another mage's trap. I wasn't going to go back. I would rather die trying to escape the Radio Mage than go back. I knew his patience was thin and nothing immoral was off the table for him.

He reached up and touched his cheek, his claws coming back with a dark liquid. He looked down at his fingers before slowly meeting my eyes. That's when it clicked. I felt a rush of cold reality over my body. Matching cuts. A soulmate match.

I put both hands in the ground and pushed myself up. I ran down the alley, jumping over my attacker, and bolted for my home. I tripped several times but nothing was going to stop me. People stared at me as if I had seen a ghost. They didn't know that I had seen worse.

Everything hurt by the time I reached my apartment. I hadn't seen him since the alley so I hoped that meant I had lost him. I fumbled with my keys, struggling for several minutes to get the small key into the lock. I fell into my apartment and slammed the door shut with my feet. I turned the lock and crawled into the corner of the living room. I hugged my legs and stared into the dark apartment. Everything was spinning and unnatural colors jumped out at me. I felt jittery, like everything inside me was buzzing.

I stayed there for several minutes, waiting for the inevitable knock at the door. What was I thinking? I had just led the most powerful mage on this side of the country to my doorstep. I should've hid somewhere else. He of all people could follow someone without being noticed.

The only tell of time was the old clock on the fireplace mantle. I stayed in the corner for nearly forty-minutes, unmoving. Time seemed to be past uncharacteristically fast. I blamed the drugs on that. How long before this wore off, again? It wasn't the first time I had ingested this type of drug. It was the drug they used to keep mages from using their magic.

I finally found the courage to stand. I flipped the light switch and walked along the wall to the bathroom. I fell against the sink, clinging to the edge just to keep myself up. For such a small amount it was having a huge effect on me. Had the drug gotten stronger or had it been that long since it was used on her?

I turned on the faucet and gulped down the cool water. I splashed my face and tired to blink away the bright colors. No amount of drinking or splashing could return me to my normal state. I practically choked on the water and finally turned it off, grabbing the towel off the rack and pressing it to my face. I carefully straightened my feet and tried standing up. I felt more sturdy on my feet now. This meant that I had passed the peak of the drug. I was on the hill down to my normal state.

I let out a sigh and hung up the towel. I looked at my red eyes and saw another pair behind me. I screamed and spun a cast back at him. I slipped and fell into the old tub. I slipped into the corner with my hand outstretched. The faucet dug into my spine. He practically glided into the small room.

"Don't come closer!" I yelled. "My accuracy gets better every time."

"Your Slight magic stands no chance against me," he mused, "but I appreciate the confidence."

"The fuck do you want?" I demanded again.

"Should it surprise you that I want to meet my soulmate?" He tilted his head to the side.

"If you kill me you also die," I reminded him.

He chuckled. "I know how the magic of soulmates work, my dear." He stepped close and held out a hand to me. "If I wanted you dead, I would have done so already." The deepening of his tone didn't make me want to accept his gesture any more than already. "I'd like to have a civil conversation, if you don't mind."

It was another moment before I slowly laid my hand on top of his. He was careful to wrap his claws around my hand and didn't roughly pull me to my feet this time. I stepped out of the tub and let him lead me out of the room. He finally let go of my hand, gliding to the small fireplace and lighting it with a snap of his fingers.

He perched himself on one of the chairs and motioned for me to sit in the other one. I quietly obliged, my eyes never once leaving his smiling face. His trademark cane seemingly appeared in his lap.

"What do you want?" I asked less aggressively this time.

"My my, you're a distrustful soul aren't you?" He leaned his cheek on his hand.

"With my history you would be too," I said.

"What do you do for a living?"

"Anything and everything. Really anything that pays me."

"A tradition-breaker I see," he said. "Most women your age are attending school or doing housework for a master or husband."

"Let's just say I'm not well liked."

"Did you know those men?" he prompted.

"No, but they probably knew me."

"Does that happen to you often?"

"It's not frequent but it's not possible to avoid either," I answered. My clasped hands were sweaty and my cheek pinched from the dried blood on it. He was still sporting the same cut on his own cheek, clearly visible in the firelight.

"What did they want with you?" He was sitting straight again with his legs partly crossed and his hands clasped in his lap. Everything in me was tense and conscious. My hair on the back of my neck was standing up. I needed to get the demon out of my house.

"I used to belong to a fight ring."

"Lovely." His tone suggested anything but that. He looked down at his watch and let out a short sigh. "My my, it's sure getting late. We should be heading back."

"We?" I stood up just as he did.

"I can't leave my soulmate in danger, now can I?" He stepped closed to me.

"I know how to go under again," I said quickly. "I'll be leaving town and changing my appearance. No one will know it's me again."

"Then I wouldn't be able to find you again."  His eyes grew brighter the further we walked away from the fire. I bumped into the kitchen table and tried to put it between me and him.

"I'm sure this will scar and you'll be able to tell it's me." I pointed to my cheek. "Or I could just let you know where I go. That way you know where I am."

"If I bring you with me I'll always know where you are." I found myself staring at a shadow the second his claws touched my shoulder. I turned and he shoved me into the wall by my neck. "Besides, I of all people could keep you safest." His claws squeezed my neck.

"I feel qui-quite safe, I'm okay. I-I assure you." I casted a forced smile up at him. The room seemed to darken around his bright red eyes.

"I'm sorry, dear, it's not a request." He slipped his hand behind my neck and pulled me against him. He slammed his cane down on the ground with a cold THUD. His hand moved behind my back as the floor disappeared from beneath my feet. I instinctively grabbed at him to keep myself from falling. Wind whipped my hair around but I didn't dare let go.

My feet abruptly touched solid ground and the wind died down. I carefully let go with one hand to move my hair out of the way. Around me was a dark forest and the sound of waves crashing was apparent, as was the smell of the sea.

His chuckled vibrated through me and I jumped away. "Where the hell are we?" I turned around to see a dark mansion sitting on the cliff's edge. It's pointed roofs sliced through the light blue of the set sun.

"Welcome home, dear," Alastor said as he walked past. I spun in a circle, seeing nothing but forest and ocean. How far were they from civilization? For his reputation, probably hundreds of miles. Maybe even thousands. I crossed my arms and rubbed them to keep warm.

I turned around to see him waiting for me. His smile was still plastered to his face but his teeth weren't showing this time. He was leaning on his cane, if you called his stance leaning, at the base of the porch steps. I clenched my teeth and forced my feet to take one step after another.

Once I had reached him, he put a hand up to stop me. He tried to touch my forehead but I jerked back, my knees nearly buckling underneath. "Relax darling," he said, "I can ease the drug effect." I forced myself to be still as he swept his palm across my forehead. My vision cleared and the bright colors disappeared. I felt more stable but my magic was still out of service.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Home, dear." He turned and walked into the old house. I looked around once more before following him. Inside looked as dark as the outside. The door slammed shut and the lights abruptly lit up at the snap of his fingers. The house's true colors came through - a deep purple and velvet with dark wood accents.

To the right was the living room that held the warm fire and large windows. To the left was the dining room with what looked like stacks of old furniture and other timely pieces. Did he collect things?

"You don't..." I hesitated, "you don't think...that you can keep me here for the rest of my life."

"I do." He spun his cane and slammed it into the wood flooring. "Because just as you said, lovely, if you die, I die. You have made a name for yourself just as I have. You should be thanking me really," he said walking past me.

"Thank you?" I scoffed.

"I'm doing you a favor. No more of this running from town to town nonsense. Now you have a place to call home and don't have to worry a hair on your head about living to the next day."

"I'd prefer freedom over a fancy cage. I've survived on my own just fine for twenty-one years of my life. I'm no housemaid."

"Then let me put it simply." He stepped dangerously close until I jammed my heels into the door. He leaned down so his yellow teeth were inches from my nose. "You will remain here for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not." The room began to darken. "I have my ways of keeping people in their place. We may share scars but we don't share pain." His face contorted unnaturally and his eyes looked less humane. I felt sick. "You should remember that when you think of defying me. I'm called the Radio Demon for a reason." He abruptly stood up and the lights came back. "Sound good, darling?"

My shoulders fell with my spirit.

[sinning-23]

Twice the Fun (Zoro x Reader x Sanji)

Because i need them both in a way that is concern to feminism and they could literally do whatever they wanted to me (respectfully) ahem. This ones for my sick, freak, nasty, touch-starved bitches It's really just prn with A LITTLE plot yall and a little more attention to detail.

18+ DUH?!

Warnings: Tagteam, creampie, gagging, choking, biting, scratching, p in v, unprotected, degradation, teasing, praising, spanking, double penetration (holy shit this is a lot even for me lol)

Hope yall enjoy (smut is a bit of a specialty of mine)

PART 2 HERE

Ps. PLEASE EXCUSE ANY SPELLING ERRORS!

What were you truly meant to do? Turn down the pair to try and make yourself look like less of a slut than you really were? Well, slut was kind of harsh. We'll say, more sexually inclined.

Yeah, that sounds classier.

Anyway, when Sanji and Zoro approached you in a more physical than verbal way, you couldn't decide whether or not you should say no to try and keep up an image they already saw past, or simply let them Eiffel Tower you. How the hell did you end up in this predicament in the first place???

___3 days ago___

You sigh, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you nudge the man beside you. You didn't quite care if he woke up or not, you'd just go to your other 'friends' room to fulfill your insatiable need for dick...and love and affection...but of course, Sanji didn't know that...and neither did Zoro and hell you'd like to keep it that way.

Perfectly balanced...sorta. Part of you feels bad though, you do love him...and Zoro too but damn it you just had to have them both. And with the way that two bicker and act like they can't stand each other, there was a fat chance you'd get your wish.

You nudge Sanji again, pressing soft kisses to his temple, and brushing his hair out of his face. He stirs, eyes slightly opening to reveal a set of lovely blues.

"Good morning. Pussy put you to sleep?" You tease, seeing him smile in recollection of the events of the night prior.

"Its not nice to tease." He groans, sitting up on his elbows and forearms to kiss your lips.

Its sweet, your heart stuttering with guilt. You know he loves you but this whole thing was supposed to be no strings attached. You pull away, noticing a brief hurt behind those eyes you just stared so lustfully into hours ago.

"Hurry up, youve got breakfast to make and I'm pretty sure someones getting a bit suspicious. You chuckle, pointing to the alarm clock.

He swears, shuffling a bit faster to find his briefs, dress pants, and shirt in a hurry. He doesnt forget to kis your temple before he leaves though.

"Come to my room again tonight, yeah?" He asks, and you nod. How could you not?

When you're sure he's long gone, you hide your face in your palms, groaning deeply before gazing into the mirror. Shit...he marked you up worse than before. You roll your eyes, that funny butterfly feeling filling up your stomach again. Damn him for making you love him. This wasn't the first time you'd have to cover up hickeys and it wouldn't be the last.

Your shoes echo down the hall a bit as you pass zoro's room now, curiosity getting the best of you. You crack the door open and there he is, pulling on that same old tan shirt over that damn gorgeous body.

"Good morning." You hum, slipping in and closing the door behind you.

He doesn't respond back, only nods in your direction. Zoro was more...blunt with these things. He thought he'd almost gotten perfect at hiding how he was feeling from you, but you had already clawed your way up and over the walls he put up. Essentially you could see right through him.

Before he can protest about you not knocking, you've got your arms around him in a hug, one he definitely needed seeing as he missed your touch far more than he would admit out loud. In his head, you were his girl. All his. He knew it wasn't true, this...whatever this was, being nothing more than a beneficial friendship. You weren't really his and it tore him up inside. He knows he loves you, but damn it if he admits it.

"Missed me? I see that look in your eyes Roro." You tease, knowing the nick name bothers him in th best way.

"I wish you would quit calling me that." He responds, letting his arms wrap around you to return the embrace, his chin resting atop your head. He needed you bad.

"Coming here tonight? Or do I have to drag you from your quarters to mine?" He smirks, making you laugh and bury your face in his chest. Gods he loved your laugh.

"How could I not?" You respond, swallowing a bit hard, knowing you were wrong for that.

Double booking a dick appointment was a big NO-NO. This leaves too much opportunity for one to find out about the other. But in hindsight, would that really be so bad? You wanted and loved them both, and being sneaky was starting to weigh on your conscience despite not being in an actual relationship with either of them.

"You alright?" He asks, cupping your face with his free hand. You drank up moments like these, it was truly a privilege to see the softer side of Zoro.

You nod, kissing him quick before making your leave.

The rest of the crew is already up and working on odds and ins of the ship. You managed your end of the chores, first mopping, then tying knots, and lastly laundry. You chatted with Nami, hoping a village is coming up soon but no luck.

Damn, the day had really gotten away from you. The sun was already setting and your heart sank to the pit of your goddamn stomach. It's sunset...which means night is right around the corner...

Oh fuck.

You scramble off the front deck and head straight to your quarters, skillfully dodging both Sanji and Zoro, who you had managed to have run into each other instead of you. Bad idea, because if you knew anything about Sanji, it's that he had a funny way of letting things slip rather sneakily. And if you knew anything about Zoro, its that he would easily catch a slick comment, and match it.

You lock your door, pacing back and forth in hopes of coming up with a plan. The truth? Yeah maybe tell the truth! You swallow your pride, taking a deep breath, only to head a kock at your door. Oh god. Your hands tremble, that sickly nervous feeling seeping into your pores. Its hot in here.

"Hey honey, um, how about we reschedule to tomorrow?" Sanji hums, something...off in his tone.

You pull the door open, that same facade over your face. You swallow, nodding at him in response.

"I see. I mean yeah we can. Something come up?" You ask, eyes shifting all over. You can bring yourself to keep direct contact with him and damn he can tell. You could've sworn that you saw someone turn the corner...was that Zoro. Nevermind that. Apparently, Sanji had said something to you but you hadn't heard it you were panicking so damn much.

"Uhh sure. You okay?" He questions, more smug than anything. He knows...

__2 days ago___

It was far too quiet for your liking. Sanji seemed to avoid you...and so did Zoro. Well, not really avoid you. In all honestly you were paranoid and reading into everything. You had FABULOUS intuition so when the energy was out of wack it went straight to your head.

They know. They have to. There's no way they don't. The two of them had gotten a lot bolder you noticed. It was all so clear to you. They were...competing almost. Zoro would leave his hand on your hip, and Sanji would roll his eyes. Sanji would pull your hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of your face when you were cleaning? Zoro would scoff and move on.

Okay, so they definitely knew. Now they were playing the "She likes me more game." That was the least of your concerns. If anything you were drinking up the attention. What you really wanted to know, was how they had found out about each other...the ship is small so that doesn't help the situation.

Today, you managed to find yourself in the kitchen while both your blonde and green-headed sneaky links were ALSO in the vicinity. You swallow hard, bidding them a good day whilst making your way to the fridge, which Sanji usually keeps locked up otherwise Luffy would get in it.

"Sanji, um, the key please." You ask, clearing your throat as the two seemed to watch your every move.

He smiles, stepping beside you, his hand trailing from your waist to the curve of your ass. He's grinning the whole time, his eyes cutting to Zoro before squatting down, using your leg as a means to steady himself to retrieve the well-hidden, key. His fingers dance over your thighs and inwards, just barely brushing over the crotch of your shorts. You yelp, tensing when Zoro gives a slight 'tch'

Sanji stands, plopping the piece of metal in your hand before returning to the stove from whence he came.

"Thanks." You rasp, fianlly feeling a pinh at ease before oepenign the fridge.

Too bad the peace only lasted for two seconds, becuse right when you had cracked it open, Zoro was already behind you, reaching for his desnated bottle of alcohol, his hand right at your waist, just where Sanji's had been.

Instead of squatting however, down to more or less 'politely' show ownership of you, Zoro opts to wind his hand back as far as possible.

SMACK

You yelp louder, steadying yourself agaisn the fridge as you moan at the sting. There was no doubt there was a bit of a mark again toyu melenated skin now. Zoro only grins, all too smug at Sanji's enraged expression.

"Thats it. You just have no sense of respect do you." Sanji argues, Zoro standing a bit taller now.

If you hadn't been squeezed between the two now, they'd surely be chest to chest. Your body is beginning to betray you, heat flooding your face and between your thighs. This wasn't about them. This was about you and who you liked more...They each wanted your attention. Rightfully so, I mean not only were you a sweetheart with a smart mouth but that mouth could do a lot more than just talk shit. And either one of them would be happy to accept death between your thighs.

"If you knew anythign at all, youd kne she likes a little desrespect." Zoro shoots back, your eyes widening.

"If you knew anything you'd know she likes being treated like a princess." Sanji scoffs.

"Lets not talk about me like im not here-"

You're cut off when they shoot that same look your way. A look you'd seen one to many times, bent over, facing a conveniently placed mirror...or wit your back against the matress, one of them over you while your legs cramp up from being so close to your chest.

Damn fr two guys who seemingly didn't 'get alog' they sure had a lot in common.

In the heat fo the argument, you slide pst the pair and out of the kitchen. Unfortunetly for you, a head of orage just happened to be outside and heard part of the last three statements.

"I dont even want to knw what or how you're gonna get out of this. Youll figure it out." Nami half encourages as you groan.

Is that what good pussy did to a mf? Start wars?! It blew your mind but you had less than a few seconds process to the situation. Before you could even realize what was happening, Zoro exited the kitchen and scope you up. And right behim him was a very serious, looking Sanji....

oh you’re so screwed.

——————————————

Authors note: HI YALLL ok so this one’s been sitting in the drafts for literally I wanna say a half a year now lmao uhhhhh let me know if you’d like to be tagged for pt.2 that’s where all the HOT SHIT HAPPENS! Anyway love you all! Drink water lol

[voxisdaddy]

after hours of punishing vox and edging him and stuff he’s so deep in subspace he just begs you to praise him 😕😕 i just love the idea of his bratty walls coming down and just wanting the readers approval, like being all weepy about it!! he puts up with so much shit (and gives out the same energy) for so long all day that he just wants his mommy to be nice to him 😔 mmfph subby vox just 😍😍

Tender

THANK YOU ANON I just wanna care for this lil needy brat so badly I swear <3 also I like how my name is VoxisDaddy and yet every time I write him in a sexual context, he's a subby bottom and occasional pervert lol

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Vox x Reader

Type: Headcanons + kinda rambly | Fluff

C/TW: Suggestive content, marking this 18+ because of it, needy Vox, tears, mommy kink, fluffy aftercare, sub!Vox x Dom!Reader, reader implied as fem im sorry :c

In which after hours of endless (pleasurable) torture, all Vox wants is his mommy's sweetest affections <3

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Whatever the fuck it is he did to deserve this overwhelming pleasure he's already long forgotten about. Poor baby's too fucked dumb :c

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Once you finally detached yourself from him, his legs fall limp against the bed, quivering. You could poke or accidentally graze his thigh and his legs would twitch rather suddenly. "Mommy" falling from his lips in short mumbles

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He would so panic when you get up to leave, reaching a clawed hand out to grasp at your arm desperately. He'd softly tug on your arm as he babbles almost incoherently

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You swear you can hear something about "mommy" in there somewhere—which is new. He normally used that term during or leading up to it, never after

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Though perhaps by now you already understand what he wants since this is likely not your first rodeo like this. Gently you'd pry his hand off of you and he wouldn't put up much of a fight sine he doesn't wanna accidentally scratch you. He'd look up at you pleadingly though; don't leave him :c

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ You'd have to reassure him and kiss his knuckles softly. Saying something like—"I'm just gonna go get something to clean you up baby, I'll be right back." No longer than a few moments do you come back with a damp rag and carefully run it over his quivering thighs and the surrounding area. He lets you do this, his gaze never leaving you

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Once he's all cleaned up and not feeling so sticky anymore this man will absolutely not let you leave

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He's actually so fucking clingy, muttering into your skin about how good you made him feel and if he did a good job—asking if he's forgiven for being such a brat

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Maybe you'd contemplate this just to be a bit mean cuz he's really been unnecessarily rude lately, today being the final straw, but looking at him all clingy, teary eyed, and desperate for your love you can only sigh; "You did so good for me baby. So much self control."

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ The lights in the city didn't shut off too early this time :D

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ I feel like in his fucked dumb foggy brain, he'd silently beg to suck on your tit. Being the good boy he is, he waits for permission and goes for it—whimpers softly at your quiet praises

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Ngl I kinda see the clinging seeping over to the next day

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Like you'd be sitting on the couch sipping on your morning drink and Vox would walk over in more comfortable clothing. You'd raise a brow—he usually heads to work as soon as possible, what the hell is he still doing here? He'd wave you off, giving some kind of excuse then sitting on the floor in between your legs, resting against you as you watch tv. his arms resting on your thighs as he sits back and relaxes his sore af body

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Either takes the rest of the day off and follows you around like a lost puppy or practically clings to you as he sits in his office chair working-or maybe on your lap while you hug him from behind

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ This last one is just a personal funny thing I'm picturing and it's Vox being in a noticeably good mood that day and just giving his assistant a random ass pay bonus. Side eyeing you to see if you noticed his generosity lmao

IM SO FUCKING SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE A WEEK AND A HALF TO COME OUT ANON SVAOVBNO

Sometimes my posts get shadowbanned, I'd really appreciate it if you not only liked but also reblogged <3 no pressure, just a thought!!

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Savior

Daryl Dixon x Savior!Reader

You show a little too much interest in Negan's new prisoner so he uses you as a test subject.

CW: Non-con, forced impregnation.

You stood at the sidelines as you stared at the truck coming back from a supply run.

Except those weren't supplies in the truck bed.

You almost wanted to say it was a monster.

You quickly learned, by the horrible sounds all night and day, that it was some kind of beast. Its howls and roars had you barely sleeping and wandering the halls until you caught Negan's voice. "And why are we snooping around at night?"

You had rounded a corner and walked into him and his high rank buddies having what seemed to be an important conversation.

"Apologies, Negan. I'm having a hard time sleeping with that think you brought in making so much noise." Negan stepped up to you, his red scarf taking up most of your vision before he bent down and placed a hand at the side of your neck, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Come by the room tomorrow after breakfast time. Got a job for you. And I'll show you what I caught. Win, right?"

That disgusting smug look of his haunted your mind every time you closed your eyes. You didn't trust him, but not showing up would mean your slow, painful end. And you couldn't say you were at least a bit curious about the captured thing.

So the next morning you made quick work of your breakfast and headed back up to your floor and to the appointed room, where two of Negan's henchmen already kept watch at the door. "Negan will be here soon. You can wait here."

Ugh. Always the friendly talks with these guys.

"Well good morning to you, miss." The chuckle that left him sent shivers down your spine. "You're even earlier than me! That excited to see what you're gonna do?" He brushed past you, shoulders grazing as he made his way up to the door and unlocked it.

You were the last one to enter the room, waiting your turn as all the high ranks came before you always.

You were backed up against the wall the second your eyes found the source of the noises that kept you awake.

A giant wolf like beast, dull brown fur with greying spots, the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen and also the most terrifying set or teeth and claws. It was massive as well, tied down and clearly drugged as it weakly trashed against its restrains.

"Thanks for showing me, s.. sir. I'll go do that job now."

The second you spoke, the henchmen took place at the door and Negan handed you a large plastic beaker. "Good! Go jerk off the big dog. Give him a nice rub." He pressed the beaker against your chest. "And don't spill anything or I'm having you do it more than once."

You looked over at the beast and took the beaker in hand. It had given up the struggle to get loose. "Boys. Help the lady roll him over."

With a couple simple moves the beast was moved onto his back and the men surrounded you with guns.

"Well? Go on! Better do it now before he wakes all the way up."

You stared at the beast's nethers where its fur thickened and moved your hands to rub at the spot. With your hands in his fur his body twitched, a low noise escaping his maw but you had to continue. You stroked the are in the hoped you'd coax his member out and after a bit it finally started to show.

Fuck it was huge. About the size of your lower leg and so red.

But you really had to get to work. Negan hated waiting.

So you wrapped your hands around the beast's length and stroked, earning more noises and twitches that weren't stopping this time. With every rub you noticed the base of his length swell, the thickened part being seemingly even more sensitive than the rest.

"Make it fun to watch for us. Give it a lick, pretend to have fun at least." Negan's voice spooked you so much you squeezed particularly hard and earned what sounded like a whine from the beast. Shit, was it waking up? You really had to hurry.

So you lowered your mouth to kiss at the beast's tip, open your mouth as far as you could and suck at it, licking at it like your life depended on it. Which it did, really.

You were getting more and more responses from the drugged monster at your fingertips indicating it was gonna come sooner rather than later.

You moved one hand to squeeze the swell at the base as your other hand held the beaker at the tip. You rubbed and licked, trying to keep a steady hold on everything as the beast picked up his trashing again, mewling out loudly as his hips jerked and stilled. Thick spurts of cum filling the beaker, its load bigger than any you had ever seen.

Once the beast stilled it seemed to have worked through its tranquilizers and started waking up, growling and turning.

The men closest to you grabbed you and the filled beaker aside before you'd get kicked in the face by a still woozy monster.

"Well look at that!" Negan had snatched up the beaker and sat it on the desk, rummaging in the drawers for something.

"And now for the fun part. Take your pants off." He waved Lucille at you, motioning to hurry up and in fear of your life you complied.

With shaking fingers you unbuttoned your pants, trying to ignore the gawking eyes of multiple men.

"Panties too, sweetcheeks. Can't do anything with those on can you?" Negan had showed up behind you and snagged the waistband of your underwear only to smack it back against your ass. His hand was on your waist in a second to lead you to the desk, pulling the panties down your ass and gesturing for you to take them off and take a seat. On the desk.

His hands went to rest on your thighs and spread them wide open as he stood in front of you with his signature grin.

His hand went to reach for something and held it out in your view. "Go ahead."

"This little thing here." A syringe filled with the just acquired beast semen dangled from his fingertips. "Goes in that pretty little pussy of yours and you're going to empty it entirely."

He pressed the syringe into your hand and stepped back and out of the beast's way.

It stared up at you and you stared right back, hands trembling around step two of your job.

The eyes on you made you feel small and fear was clouding your mind as you stared at the beast before you, your hands ever so slowly moving down your body as Negan had grabbed hold of Lucille as a warning.

The point made it to your slit and the beast gave a growl in protest but you had to continue. You gave him a sorry look as you pressed the syringe past your entrance, all the way to the ends and pressed the plunger down as far as it could go. He roared in protest, fighting his restraints but with his paws bound and the IV in his back he couldn't do anything but watch you spill his seed inside of you.

You were guarded and monitored every single day and were losing an awful lot of sleep thanks to that absolutely horrible song playing on loop to torture some prisoner.

Dwight was the one escorting you today. He brought food and vitamins on pickup for your daily checkup and he looked uncomfortable.

He stayed at your side for the whole appointment and walked you back to your room. His orders included making sure you ate and took the provided vitamins so he accompanied you.

"I'm sorry for what he's making you do." His words caught you by surprise, hoping he wasn't just making you lower your guard around him so they can hurt you more. "Look. I overheard Negan talking about his plans. If you're a success he's gonna do it to others, and Sherry's at the top of that list."

Sherry. You knew her, she's his wife and went through a lot of shit with Negan ready. He probably plans to get back at the both of them this way.

"I'm barely sleeping because I'm so scared. What if this kills me after he's done it to all the other women?" It struck a cord of fear within him as you said it, not knowing what he'd do if Negan ended up killing his wife.

"I'm getting rid of his stash, so he can't hurt anyone else and take the beast's IV out so it can escape. I know it won't do anything for your situation but it's all I can do."

You agreed with his plan and told him to be careful. You didn't like him much but he was helping you so you didn't want to see him hurt.

And only a few days later, just as you had gotten the official yes on being pregnant, chaos ensued.

Outside your room you heard stuff breaking, people screaming and heavy thuds and roars of the beast moving around. Dwight succeeded

And then it got quiet.

Really quiet.

No more cries and howls of torture, and no more of that shitty song on loop.

You could finally sleep, so sleep you did.

It wasn't long before Negan summoned you for interrogation but you kept up the lie of knowing nothing and it worked great, now that you had the only offspring of the monster growing inside of you. You were sent back to your room to be a prisoner again, constantly monitored for an entire month, kept away from all the mess between Sanctuary and the other communities until the war truly broke out.

You stopped getting your daily vitamins delivered but now got a week long supply each time, and were allowed to, with one of your guards, to head downstairs for free food. You felt a bit more comfortable with two women at your door now, they understood your condition and showed some care at least. And Negan had needed all the men he could get to fight so they were the only option.

Eventually one of the women came inside the room to keep watch over you, informing about the communities having arrived at Sanctuary and things getting ugly. You sat together and waited. Talked about all kinds of things, trying to keep the topic off Negan's plans for you and to your luck, just before running out of conversation material someone came running through the door.

"We lost. Negan's gone and they took over. They fucked with our weapons." And with that she left again, slamming the door behind her on the way out.

Your guard had gotten up and moved out the room. "You stay put. I'm gonna check it out."

With you being alone and not even wanting to leave the room you laid back down in bed and waited for someone to come back with news. You had enough supplies here to last you a few days and you knew your way to the doc's place if you really needed something.

Not that you made it that far when you went out, because with five steps in, you heard someone call out.

"Ey, you. C'mere, where ya headed?" You didn't recognize it so you knew you were fucked.

Turning around you raised your hands to show you were unarmed, and the man's crossbow dropped the second your eyes met. "Infirmary. I ran out of meds." With your hands up you pointed down at your stomach, only to realize you wore loose clothing that hid your small bump. You went to grab for the hem of your shirt when the man's crossbow rose to take aim again. "I swear I'm unarmed." One hand stayed raised while the other ever so slowly went to pull up your shirt and show him your stomach. "I need the vitamins."

The crossbow dropped again as he walked up to you, stating you were going together. "Can't have ya gettin' shot on sight by our people."

The two of you made your way to the infirmary and you found a big stash of prenatal vitamins and pocketed them all while the man dug around to make inventory. "So, what's your plan with us? The ones who just live here?" You couldn't help but be scared out of your mind now that the other communities that Negan had been torturing for so long had taken his down, sure they'd want revenge.

"Ain't sure. M'not the boss. Just checkin' the area." He rummaged through a cabinet and pocketed some random stuff before turning his attention back to you. "M'takin' ya home to Alexandria. Can't have ya bein' alone with them pups in ya." His words had you almost trip over air as you paced the room and whipped your head in his direction. You tried to find the right response but your silence spoke even louder. "Look," He got closer so you couldn't run, but you just watched him and waited for him to continue.

He didn't speak, but right before your eyes he opened his mouth in which sharp fangs appeared and his eyes glowed.

"Holy shit, you." You looked him over once, twice and matched up some of the beast's features with the human in front of you.

"Wait." You pointed at him, then at your belly and stared to which he nodded his head. "Yeah. S'why 'm takin' ya home with me." He held out a hand to you and you carefully shook it, slowly starting to feel okay around him as you exchanged introductions.

"So, what now?" You didn't even know what you were asking about. Now-now? 'Home'-now? What about those apparently pups-now?

Daryl took you back out of the building after letting you gather your important belongings and met back with the ones from his community who had left behind, and you talked the whole way.

About how you wanted none of this and while you were thankful for Dwight getting rid of the leftovers and made sure no other women suffered your fate, you still somewhere wished it never took in the first place. Daryl could feel your hurt, and felt responsible for you even if he was just the donor. "I wanna help ya be comfortable. We didn't choose this but I think we can work sum'n out."

Yeah. You never wanted this to happen to you, but neither did Daryl and now you were both forced into being parents.

But you believed his words, you weren't sure if it was because you were connected now, but you were almost excited to go see where Daryl lived.

"I'm staying with you, right? They're not gonna make me live with strangers? I.. I don't think they'll trust me and--"

"Yer with me." His voice was stern, as to prove a point. "They ain't sayin' no to ya, ye'll be livin' at mah place. Wanna keep an eye on ya." He sounded almost ..excited?

"C'mon, we're leavin'. Ya should be restin'." Daryl helped you pack your stuff in the car with a man named Aaron and then took you to his ride.

A motorcycle you had seen Dwight on before. Now that you looked at Daryl better, you had seen Dwight in that vest too..

It took a moment to get comfortable behind Daryl on his bike, unsure where to hold onto and not wanting to press your belly against him and make him uncomfortable.

Once you and your stuff was all safe behind the walls of Alexandria and tucked away in your new house you allowed yourself to breathe.

Breathing quickly turned to crying, tears hidden under the warm shower while Daryl stood at the other side of the door. Your overwhelming negative outburst worried him and came to find you only to be stopped by a closed bathroom door. Not that it was locked, but he would never invade your privacy like that unless it was a life or death situation.

All he could do now was wait for you to be done in there and talk to you afterwards. He slumped against the wall beside door and listened to your muffled cries until they died down.

When you had scrubbed all of Sanctuary off your skin and your hair smelled of conditioner again you dried off and dressed in fresh, comfortable clothes and left the room only to find Daryl asleep next to the door. He sat propped up against the wall, his head lolled to the side and soft snores coming from him.

You tried to carefully wake him but he jumped up in attack immediately, dropping his hands and relaxing the moment he realized it was just you. "Shit m'sorry. Still ain't doi--" "It's okay, really. They hurt you pretty bad." Daryl took your now clean and relaxed self in, staring you up and down but hovering at your midsection. You had swapped the oversized hoodie for a tighter longsleeve that hugged your newly acquired curves perfectly. When you looked up at him he was still staring. It was really sweet how the admiration was visible even though he'd never admit it.

Your hand reached forward to take his and slowly placed his palm flat against your stomach. "You're their father, Daryl. You're allowed to touch."

Daryl's eyes shot up to yours, a whirlwind of emotions going through him as you spoke again.

"If you're up for it I'd like you to be their dad, too. I know we didn't choose this but we can choose now."

Daryl gave it a thought and yeah, you were right. What they did to both of you was nothing shy of traumatic, and while for Daryl it was technically over now that he was home again, you were still in the middle of it. "Yeah," he started. "Wanna try'n be their dad." You smiled up at him and he happily took in the loving look in your eyes.

"So ehh.." you couldn't help but shy away a little at the thought of your question. "You maybe.. wanna sleep with me tonight?" The deepest red ran up Daryl's cheeks as he avoided your gaze, but did stammer "Yeah."

Oh he was so cute as a human. So shy like this, unlike his ferocious beast side you heard killed some folks on his way out of Sanctuary.

So you pushed a bit, stepping against him so your small bump pressed against his stomach as your arms wrapped around his waist. "Can we do some pretend babymaking too? To make it feel a bit more real, please?" The last words were spoken an inch away from his lips, batting your eyelashes at him and pouting your lips.

It was like you had found the secret code to shut off his brain as he just stood there frozen until you backed off and laughed. The sound seemed to wake him up, seeing him think up an answer.

"Yeah. I think I'd like tha."

A/N: This idea had been making its rounds in my head for a while so now I finally wrote it.

[thebibliosphere]

I had an absolutely harrowing dream about Spy x Family last night, which I'm now inflicting on all of you.

I dreamt that Anya got kidnapped and put into some sort of science experiment program thing, and Loid figured out who took her and went to go find her without telling Yor. He was mere inches from saving her when he got hit with an amnesia sleep dart, and when he'd woken up, he'd forgotten who he was, but also Anya as well.

Worse than that, the scientist dude doing the experiments convinced him he was a member of staff who'd had an accident and that he worked there, and it was his job to enforce security around these telepathic mutant kids. And that makes sense. Right? He's strong and fast and good with weapons. Why wouldn't he be some kind of enforcer in a dangerous facility like this?

So there he is, going about his life, herding kids between cells and science experiments. Unable to shake the feeling that something is wrong. And then there's Anya, watching her Papa not recognize her. Turning his face away from her when she pleads for him, cries for him to remember her. To remember the mission.

Meanwhile, Yor is roaming the city, knives out, trying to find her fake family. Returning home to a lonely Bond. Bond who knows where they are -- who can feel Anya's distress -- but can't tell Yor because she doesn't have Anya's powers.

The spy organization is also going nuts trying to find him. Agent Twilight just doesn't go missing. He always checks in. Sometimes a little late, but he always claws his way back to them in the end, and if one day he doesn't? Well... it's always been assumed he'll die in the line of duty. It's a risk they all knowingly take.

I'd love to say my subconscious concocted a happy ending for all of this, but it didn't. The last thing I remember was Anya finding a way to escape with some other kids over a wall, except the wall was too big and Anya was so much younger than all the other kids so she fell and Loid caught her because he's Loid, he always catches her.

Maybe my brain would have chosen that moment to spark the recognition behind his eyes, but that's also when @mothman-etd's alarm went off, and Holly Mop came bounding up to the head of the bed wanting morning cuddles.

So here I am, bereft and moderately inconsolable over the knowledge that I don't have time to write for another fandom, no matter how much I want to fix the sad scenario my brain concocted for me while I was asleep.

I didn't even fuck up my meds or anything. It was just a really vivid, really sad dream. At least when I usually have this kind of hyper-detailed dream it's because I took my morning meds at night like an idiot, but noooo. Brain said fuck you, have some sadness. Asshole.

[melloraconteur]

Day 002. | Roleplay + Inflation

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Synopthesis: Running through the forest to escape Simon was exhilarating. Using you as he wanted was his prize for his hard work.

Cont. Consensual NonCon, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), 

Word Count -> 1k

Kez Notes: Hiiii, sorry this took so long 😅. I had some trouble coming up with a situation.

Running in a forest was fun, if it was daylight and you had the right attire. 

Now, running through a forest at night with only the clothes on your back with an over-250-lbs man chasing you down was terrifying. Branches seemed to reach for you, logs and rocks popping up in places you swore weren't there before, having to adapt on the fly to avoid crashing into the ground.

Every breath seemed to burn your lungs, the air chilly since it was autumn. You continued to run, pushing your body to run faster than what you usually did. Everything hurts. Your legs burn from overexertion, your body hot yet the sweat cooling on your body icy. Instinctual panic made breathing harder, the shadows becoming too dark and felt too menacing for your mind to remind you that you weren't in actual danger. 

As if hearing your pleas for shelter, you saw an opening in the tree ahead, the moonlight barely illuminating its opening. Without another moment of hesitation, you dove into it, squirreling yourself as far as you could go. It's quiet, too quiet, the kind of quiet that serves as a warning. Your chest is heaving, your breaths heavy as you try to catch your breath. 

 You aren't prepared for a gloved hand wrapping around your wrist and dragging you out from your hidey hole, a scream leaving your lips. 

Simon doesn't let your scream continue, his hand covering your mouth, the material scratchy and harsh against your soft skin. The ground is unkind to you as you thrash around, trying to force his weight off of you. He only puts more pressure on your flailing limbs, a soft groan coming from him as he watches you try to escape him.  

He looks like the grim reaper, his dark military clothes blending in with the shadows. His ivory skull mask selling the look. You feel three taps to your ribs, him checking in on you. You tap his wrist the same amount, momentarily dropping the damsel-in-distress act to reassure him that you weren't actually afraid of him. His brown eyes soften before regaining the hard look. 

"I'm gonna let you go, don't try to run." He says, leveling you with a look that promised that he would deliver a harsher punishment if you tried. You nod. He says no more, shuffling down until he is between your legs. He looks at your leggings like they personally offended him, tearing the stretchy fabric off of you with frightening ease.  

You kick out, giving one last try that is trampled by Simon grabbing your leg and slamming it down, his grip becoming harsh and unforgiving, a grip that would surely give you bruises that you will admire in the mirror afterwards. 

"Don't try that again, I'll break your fucking legs if you do." He spits out, grabbing your thighs and opening them to an uncomfortable position. He reaches for the knife strapped to his thigh, taking it out and using it to cut your panties off. 

A soft whine escapes your throat at the cold breeze on your wet pussy, another gush of slick wetting your pussy and your inner thighs. Simon watches, taking in the sight of your pretty drooling pussy clenching down on nothing, beckoning him to claim it once more.

He wastes no time, his leaking cock already straining against his jeans from the adrenaline of the chase. He shoves two fingers inside, a strangled yelp escaping you as your walls strain to accommodate the intrusion. Simon has had enough practice with your body, his thick fingers prodding a spongy spot in you that makes your hips buck into his, taking his fingers deeper, your back arching off the cold ground. 

Your hips continue their wild movements, moans clawing up your throat and out your mouth when his thumb starts to play with your clit. It feels too much and too little at the same time, leaving you yearning for his heavy cock. 

"Shh, I'll give it to you after you come on my glove." He purrs. He knows from experience that you needed to come at least once before he could slip inside your warmth.You huff at him. Moans slip out of your mouth as you feel your body heat up even more, your thighs starting to shake. 

Your orgasm is a silent one. All at once, you feel the tension slip from your body, your thighs trembling as Simon continues to touch you through it. He pulls out his fingers, noting the creamy slick that covers his gloves with pride. 

Your body goes limp, totally relaxed after your first orgasm of the night. You look down after hearing a zipper and the sound of clothes being pulled down. Simon was a beautiful sight. His pretty brown eyes look at you with a loving hunger, his fat leaky cock resting at your entrance, prespend joining your slick in a cocktail of fluids. 

Just as you regained your breath, you lost it again when Simon started to push in. The stretch of his cock was intoxicating, addictive, even when it became somewhat painful. You never minded a little pain mixed with pleasure. You cried out when his tip knocked against your cervix, digging your nails into his arm. His thrusts are short and deep, not wanting to be apart from your drooling cunt and barely giving you any time to adjust to his size.  

It doesn't take long before his thrusts become harsher, pounding into you at a punishing pace. You can hear his soft moans and grunts. He places a hand on your tummy, watching in fascination as his cock makes your tummy protrude. 

His thumb returns to your clit, making you writhe under him as another orgasm steals your already stolen breath away. He groans above you, slamming into you and stilling, plugging you up as hot, thick ropes of cum fill you, your walls maintaining a vice grip on his cock, milking him for all his worth. He lets out a soft moan, feeling your tummy bloat more from the amount of cum being stuffed inside. 

He lays on you, panting lightly. You reach up and gently kiss his cheek, whispering to him how good he felt, how good he made you feel, that you loved him. This was a vital part of your sex life. Reassuring each other prevented a lot of miscommunication between the two of you. 

Wrote by Melloraconteur. Do not modify, repost onto other sites, or translate.  

[revived--c]

Taking Care of You

So sorry this took so long, I got really stuck on it for a minute and had to keep rewriting things. If the ending seems a bit rushed I'm so sorry

This was a request from @themonstracerock !

CW: Mentions of self hatred(?), Character death mentions, Dew being a little shit kind of, Hurt/Comfort

Aether was the last one in the infirmary. Which wasn't uncommon for the quintessence ghoul, he liked to work late because it meant he could work at his own pace and focus on paperwork that needed to be done.

Today, though, was truly exhausting. There was a sudden outbreak of Siblings getting sick (flu season, it's fantastic) which caused both him and the other siblings who worked in the infirmary to run around literally all day.

It made his legs ache and his back sore and– more pressing– his magic to be on the fritz and cause his focus to waver.

Which is why he hadn't realized someone else was in the doorway of his tiny office, currently desperately leaning against the wall like their life depended on it.

Dew had basically clawed his way out of his room and down the 3 halls to get here. His body felt like it was on fire. Which, it technically was. Everything in him ached and felt like he had been hit by a bus and then dropped off a 30 story building.

The elemental transition was not treating him well. He wasn't even supposed to survive it technically, since Sister had admitted to him beforehand that it was, quote; “highly experimental and extremely risky” to do.

But the clergy didn't want to waste anymore time or resources to summon a new fire ghoul after they had just (forcefully) sent one back. Ifrit.

And Dew had a habit of thinking he deserved all this pain. That it was his fault somehow that Ifrit got sent back. So he had to take the fire ghouls shoes and hope to the unholy father that he could fill them.

Dew hasn't been able to really move in the last couple days, the pain so intense it'd make him dizzy and loose everything in his stomach. He couldn't hold down any food and if he tried water or any other liquid (like Pedialyte like one of the siblings suggested) it seemed like his body would inflame from the inside and burn it all out.

So he stopped trying. He curled up into a tight little ball on his bed and refused to move. He hadn't shown up to any of the meetings discussing the new Cardinal. No breakfast, lunch or dinner. No practice. Nothing. 

Aether and Mountain had been trying to get him to open up and let them help him- but the little ghoul refused and would snap at them to, “Go away! I don't need your fucking help!”

Dew wants to punch himself in the throat for that, because clearly he needs help. He needs it right now.

That's why he's standing in Aether's office doorway now. Struggling to breathe and even stand.

When Aether finally noticed him, the quint jumped out of his skin.

“Help..” Dew croaked, his voice dry and scratchy. “Please, Aeth.. fuck..”

“Dew!? Oh satanas” he got up out of his chair so fast it spun.

That's when Dew slowly started sliding down the wall, his legs in too much pain anymore to hold him up. Aether quickly caught the little ghoul before he hit the ground. He immediately started pumping quintessence into him through their mate bond, trying to ease the pain enough so he could put Dew down onto a bed and hook him up.

Dew weakly turned his head and glanced up at Aether, his vision quickly turning dark.

Dew woke with a jolt, hissing in regret as his body screamed at him in protest. He quickly flopped back down.

He stared blankly up at the white ceiling for a moment before looking around. Wincing when he saw the IV fluid tubes attached to him.

He hated those things, they gave him the creeps.

“You're awake– oh thank satanas you're awake” 

Dew startled a bit before a hand reached for his hand and squeezed. He looked down and there was a very worried but relieved Aether. Looking at him with a desperate look.

Dew cringed, scrunching his nose “Of course I am? Why do you look so concerned?”

Aether's ears drooped, “Dew.. you looked like you were on deaths door when you showed up here” he let go of his hand “don't you remember that?”

“I guess” Dew shrugged.

Aether considered the little, newly made, fire ghoul for a minute. Why was he acting this way? Couldn't he tell everyone, especially himself that he was concerned for Dew? 

He couldn't stand seeing him like this. Couldn't stand seeing Dew slowly destroying himself with his stubborn attitude. It was in Aether's nature to want to help, nurture and protect his pack mates. Dew is his pack mate. He's the ghoul he fell in love with at first sight when being dragged out of the Pits. He was the first ghoul that extended a hand to the terrified quintessence ghoul.

Aether's jaw tensed, he decided right then and there.

“No”

Dew looked up at Aether then, “What do you mean no? What're you talking about?”

“I mean no,” Aether reached over to the nightstand next to Dews bed “I'm not letting you do this any longer”

Dew huffed a laugh, “Do what any longer?”

“Destroy yourself!” He handed Dew the glass of water

Dew looked at it questionably before wrinkling his nose and turning away, “I don't want it”

Aether sat back, “Fine!” putting the glass to his lips.

Dew rolled his eyes– then suddenly Aether gripped his jaw, squeezed his cheeks– forcing Dew to open his mouth.

Aether smashed their lips together in an open mouthed kiss and forced the cold water down Dews throat.

Dew scrambled and pushed Aether away, sputtering “What in the nine circles is your fucking deal!?”

“You're not getting away with all this anymore” Aether huffed “You won't even be able to scratch your own ass without me knowing now!”

Dew hissed, “Oh fuck off! You're not my boss!”

“Too damn bad, Dewdrop ghoul!” Aether smirked with some mirth, “You have no choice on the matter”

“For fucks sake..”

Nobody truly knows how Dew recovered so well in the end, they had assumed he just shaped up on his own. Aether stuck true to his promise and followed him around like a guard dog, making sure he took the proper medication and care to his body the whole way.

They ended up inseparable.

[inneedofsupervision]

Movie Night? No, thank you.

Summary: Some obvious downsides are coming with enhanced senses, but you'll get used to it. The spidey sense thought that has not given Peter any trouble. It quickly became one of his favorite abilities. Until now. Until the Avengers thought, "Hey, let's watch a horror movie with the barely old enough teen in our team".

Peter quickly comes to an insight. Watching horror movies with a spidey sense?

Ten out of ten can not recommend it.

TW: They are watching a horror movie so there are mentions of violence, blood, and injuries, if that's not for you, skip the beginning.

She's running.

Running as fast as she can.

The stench of blood, vomit, and sweat that had made it hard to keep from giving up the last contents of her stomach has grown to be her slightest concern as she stumbles past weathered stone walls and destroyed doors.

"Elli! Elli, where are you?"

A sharp scream escapes her as she misses a step. With an earsplitting noise, the plank she stepped on yields under her weight, and she promptly sails along the rest of the floor plates down into the dark. A sickening squelch reaches the edge of the hole as a flood of hot, biting, breath-stealing pain forces an almost inhuman howl out of her before choking noises emit the frantic attempt to breathe through the pain. But she cannot stop. She needs to find Elli. Tears of dread run over her dirt-smeared cheeks as she claws at the walls to get up.

"Elli," the woman moaned in pain as she fought the urge to break right here and now.

"I'm coming, Elli. I won't leave you here."

She's breathing heavily. Her eyes gloss over, and the last flicker of light dims as she ignores the rusty pipe that had bored through her tight, staring at the wall looming over her. Elli. She has only thoughts for Elli.

With little strength left, the woman begins digging her nails into the moist wood before setting her uninjured foot onto a tiny ledge as she climbs. Her breathing and the blood pulsing in her head are the only sounds she can focus on as she fights herself upwards, needing to get Elli. As she almost made it out, her fingers claw into the ground frantically, grabbing desperately for anything to hold onto and pull herself up. Her hand wraps around something solid, and she doesn't think. She needs to get out, so she pulls and finally, finally makes it over the edge. With a cough and gasping for air, she collapses onto the floor, the blood that oozing out of the wound colors her jeans a dirty red. Sweat-matted hair falls over hunched shoulders as she dry heaves, body shaking with utter exhaustion.

"I'm coming, Elli." The words are mumbled, barely brought over cracked lips. Her breath hitches as a spasm shoots through her hand into her arm, and she glances at it as it begins cramping from how hard she is still holding onto her lifeline.

The lifeline.

"What-" she mutters as her eyes catch onto the object she's clinging to, which turns out to be a blood-stained boot.

"It's him," whispers Peter to no one in particular as he stares wide-eyed at the screen, watching the woman's eyes, caught in a full shot, gazing up at the pantleg that follows the boot until the realization hits her. He grimaces at the terrified scream that echoes through the room and squints his eyes as the axe comes crashing down.

"How could she not tell she was grabbing the boot of the killer? What kind of bullshit is this?!" Peter longingly looks over to Clint, who throws popcorn in the direction of the screen while protesting about the logic of the second lead character.

"As if you were any smarter than her."

Sam throws a pillow at the archer, Peter's pillow. The only thing that had shielded him from, well, he wasn't sure why he was hugging it, but it had brought some comfort. That was until Sam decided to fling it at Clint, who sputters as it's hitting him at the side of his head.

"Can both of you get a grip," grumbles Bucky from next to Peter's other side. He gets a fistful of popcorn thrown at him as an answer. Some of it lands on the teen, as well. Without his pillow, Peter's hands find each other on his lap, where they crawl into the sleeve of the opposite arm. At least like this, he could cross his arms over his chest and not look as much like he's hugging himself. His eyes wander over from the screen to Clint again, just in time for the killer to chase after another victim. His jaw tightens at the screams.

He hadn't always had this much trouble watching horror movies. Sure, he would get a bit spooked, but since the spider bite, it got worse. The suspense subconsciously triggers his sense of danger, leaving him extra jumpy. It doesn't get better with the rest of his senses sharpening to make him more aware of his surroundings, causing Peter to struggle even more to refrain from flinching at every loud noise. Clint shifts in his love-seat, arm thrown over the backrest as he relaxes into the cushion. For the last ten minutes, Peter had thought about excuses to change positions. He felt incredibly out of place, squished between Bucky and Sam, and wished Mr. Stark was here and not away on some gala with Pepper.

Mr. Stark would make him feel better.

The man would pull his arm around his shoulder, and the second he senses Peter jumping again, he would say that the movie sucks and suggest watching that terrible show about celebrities showing off their properties. He roasts their room decor, criticizing until Peter hits his shoulder to make him stop because he cannot stop laughing. Tony would grin, amused, and keep insulting someone else pointlessly expensive and ugly kitchen sink while Peter next to him chortles at the colorful slander. But Mr. Stark isn't here. His last resort for feeling a little better would be Clint. If he only could get up and walk over to the archer, he was very optimistic the other would sense his discomfort. Maybe not as fast as Mr. Stark, but Peter had noticed that, despite the teasing, Clint had a soft spot for him. The man would put his arm around Peter's shoulder in a half hug, claiming to need something to hold onto, joking that the movie was scarier than he remembered. Clint's great like that.

But Clint also sits at the other end of the room, completely draped all over the place and leaving little space to squeeze into. And even if there were room, Peter would need a reason to go over without embarrassing himself. Stuck between Sam and Bucky, still bickering, Peter pulls his hands out of his sleeves and debates if he should pull his knees onto the couch. Like that, he could always hug them to his chest to compensate for the loss of the pillow. But that could draw attention to him, and Peter didn't want to get teased. Maybe if he slowly starts with one leg? The teen keeps shifting in his seat, trying to act composed and not noticing that his constant moving caught the attention of the men sitting next to him.

"You've gotta say something?"

"Huh?" is Peter's eloquent answer.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You're squirming around like you're sitting on hot coals. Something the matter?"

"Oh, I kinda need to go to the toilett."

The movie halts. Bucky looks at him with a frown, remote in hand.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks, gesturing for Peter to hurry up. The teen suppresses a groan. He hoped they would leave the movie playing. How is he supposed to stall time now? He half-heartedly gets up, wondering how long he should take since he didn't actually need to go.

"He's a little out of it today."

Steve carries a frown as he glances over his shoulder, where the teen has shuffled out of the room.

"Probably some teenage angst because of his finals coming up," comments Sam nonchalantly, head leaning onto his palm. "He will get over it." Steve doesn't look happy but seems to accept the plucked-out-of-thin-air explanation as he settles down again. Sam glances to the side. His and Bucky's eyes meet, and Sam rolls his eyes, wondering what he has done in his past life to be surrounded by these overpowered worrywarts as the ex-assassins expression told him he didn't believe one word. When Peter returns from his unplanned bathroom break, he stops, eyebrows rising at the scene before him. There was popcorn. Lots of it, everywhere. "What happened here?" he asks puzzled. "Clint said Sam wouldn't notice a killer standing in front of him even when he is about to get stabbed," explains Natasha, who doesn't bother looking up from her phone while Clint shields himself with a blanket to avoid the onslaught of popcorn getting thrown at him. "Okay," says Peter slowly, drawing the word out and giving the fighting men a confused side-eye as he walks over to Bucky. The latter looks about to get up at any second to end the chaos himself. "That's it," cheers Sam as Clint protests when the blanket gets ripped out of his hands. Peter glances at the soft fabric thrown onto his lap and brushes off the few crumbs sticking on it. Sam stands triumphantly over Clint, who, very maturely, sticks his tongue out at the man. Sam dumps the rest of the popcorn over the archer's head. "Jokes on you if you think I wouldn't eat the popcorn like this." Clint runs a hand through his hair, sending kernels onto the couch. "What are you, a raccoon?" Clint flips him off and bends down to take the fallen pillow, but Sam is quicker and kicks it out of the archer's reach. Clint doesn't look like he cares much as Sam bends down to take the pillow and thrusts it into Peter's arms. "Keep that before he gets any dumb ideas," orders Sam as he sits back down. Not only having gained a blanket but also a pillow, Peter only nods before taking the pillow, hugging it to his chest. He throws the blanket over it, pulling it closer around himself. "I will keep them safe," he says. The seriousness in his voice causes Steve to throw the bundled-up teen an amused look. The movie continues, and so does Peter's fidgeting and shifting. The blanket and pillow were a great distraction, making him feel slightly less over the edge as he could squeeze the cushion when the sounds from the movie got too much. But the suspense still sucks. His spidey sense wouldn't shut up, and he knew that's the whole point of watching a horror movie, to put the audience on the edge, fearing what would happen next. But usually, the audience doesn't own a sixth sense warning them about something that's about to happen, which is great for them because Peter could attest that having one and watching a horror movie is one of the most inconvenient

downsides in everyday life that can happen. They are only half an hour into the movie as Peter's knuckles grow white with how hard he's fisting them into the blanket. His eyes stick to the screen where the protagonist climbs over the beat-up fence to search the abandoned mansion for their lost friend. At the sound of a door slamming, the protagonist and Peter gasp simultaneously in shock, and the fabric under his fingers tears as he unwillingly grabs the blanket harder. He stares blankly at the destroyed fabric in his hands, hoping Mr. Stark won't be too mad. With stealthy movements, he rolls up the edge of the blanket, acting like nothing happened.

His leg bounces up and down as he debates come clean and asks if they could watch something else as another door slams shut. The woman walks down a dimly lit hallway. The music grows ominous, the camera focusing on the shaky hand going for the tarnished doorknob. Peter's leg shakes harder. He is about to open his mouth and tell the others he has forgotten some schoolwork he needs to do to Monday, when something flutters over his neck.

He twitches, instinctively scrunching his shoulders up, like a turtle caught of guard. His eyes break from the screen to look at Bucky, whose arm retreats from behind his head.

"You had this in your hair."

Peter blinks stunned at the man. Bucky lifts his hand and wordlessly lets a piece of popcorn fall onto Peter's lap. On-screen, the woman passes the door and walks up a staircase, following a bloody trail.

"Thanks," mumbles Peter, but it sounds more like a question. Bucky doesn't say anything, which isn't less confusing as the teen isn't sure how to interpret the man's gesture. The ex-soldier is hard to read. Peter runs his hand through his hair, but thankfully, he hasn't any more food stuck there.

"Attics and basements are equally bad choices," comments Clint with enviable serenity while munching on the popcorn he picks from his clothes, successfully shifting the attention back onto the movie where a blood-drawn arrow points towards the handle of a loft ladder. Peter doesn't even want to see what is about to happen, unconsciously shifting back so he can barely peek over his knees. The teen retreats his arms around his legs, the cushion pressing against his chest at the action. Squinting his eyes, he watches with tense shoulders as the woman steps onto the ladder, climbing up into the dark.

"What the heck?" hisses Sam as something bumps into him rather forcefully. With a frown, he stares down at the blanket burrito of a teen who wears a flustered expression. To Sam's confusion, the blushing teen doesn't pay mind to the one-sided fight on the screen but gapes at Bucky, who has his head turned towards the TV, looking as uninvested as he did since the beginning.

"What's up with you?" asks Sam, bewildered. He lowers his voice, noticing that the others hadn't seen what was happening. "You plan to jump on the ceiling next?"

"Bucky, he-" began the younger to defend himself but quickly clapped his mouth shut as said man turned his head to him, raising a single eyebrow. Sam's confusion grows as the kid honest-to-god pouts. "Never mind," mutters Peter, crossing his arms over his chest, but Sam sees him giving the long haired man a wary side-eye. Sam glances over the teen's head, catching Bucky's eyes. Bucky's lips twitch upwards. Sam shakes his head but keeps from saying anything.

Two could play that game.

Sam keeps paying only half of his attention to the movie, trying to catch up on what is going on between the two idiots next to him. It doesn't take long for him to figure out the pattern. As the suspense rose, so did the tension in Peter’s posture. Sam glances over to Bucky, catching the man's smug expression as he slightly shifts his arm. "Oh no, you don't," thought Sam, squinting his eyes. Peter barely stifles the tiny scream by smushing his face into the pillow as, out of nowhere, a hand claws into his side, digging their fingers into the soft spot under his ribs. Simultaneously, his left armpit gets attacked by a set of fingers worming their way into it, wriggling around experimentally. He jolts at the ticklish bold shooting through his nerves and lets himself fall to the side to avoid the feeling. He puts a hand on Bucky's knee, catching himself before he could stumble off the couch. "What's gotten you so jumpy today?" Peter's head whips in Sam's direction, the protest laying on the tip of his tongue, but as he opens his mouth, the only sound coming out is an embarrassing squeak as a finger pokes him in the stomach, making him jump and nearly hit his face against Bucky's chin. He slaps the offending metal digit away. "You guys suck," mumbles Peter as he straightens himself and crosses his arms protectively around his middle, sending them both a glare. "What did you just say?" Sam mock-threateningly wriggles his fingers in the teen's direction, but Peter catches the hand, holding it tight and only letting go after hearing a whispered plea. He gives the man a side-eye but lets Sam go and leans back onto the couch. To Peter's horror, it didn't end like that. Through the next twenty minutes, his whole attention got stolen by the men he gets nearly squished by, wary of every one of their movements. He wasn't paying attention to anything happening on the screen. Instead, he was busy catching sneaking fingers or batting hands away that reached out to poke him randomly. The pillow and blanket were lying abandoned in front of the couch. Toward the end of the movie, the attacks relent, and his focus is back on the screen where the main protagonist finds her beaten-down friend locked away in the basement, chained to a chair, desperately searching for anything to break the locks open. The camera zooms out at a low pace, slowly revealing more and more of the room. Peter's eyes are stuck on the barely lit corner behind the panicking women, his spidey sense spiking again. He hadn't even noticed that his sixth sense at some point had stopped reacting, only now since it’s beginning to buzz louder than ever. He subconsciously pulls his knees up, curling into himself, when suddenly something pushes him to the side. With a surprised yelp, he tips over, falling onto Sam's legs that the man had put on the couch table. "That's it. I'm done.” Sam throws his arms up in defeat. He flicks a finger against Peter’s forehead.

“You can't sit still for a minute, can you?"

The teen rubs his head with a frown, glaring up at Sam. "That wasn't my fault, it's Bucky! He push-AH!" Peter had been trying to climb down off Sam's legs as he was protesting about being falsely accused when he lost his balance thanks to a pair of hands grabbing his ankles. "You aren't the only one getting annoyed by his fidgeting," grumbles Bucky as he tugs on the teen's legs until Peter lies stretched out on the men's laps, glaring at them both for acting like jerks. "You two are so childish, you know that?" Peter growls and tries shifting and rolling off their legs, but an arm around his waist keeps him from going anywhere. "You distract us during the whole movie, and we are the childish ones?" Sam somehow manages to keep a straight face despite the betrayed and grumpy puppy look the teen's sending them. "Sorry kid but I cannot let that sit." He reaches his hands out, ready to continue where he laid off during the middle of the movie. He catches the teen's lips twitching upwards, a nervous slip of anticipation. "Stop it, Sam." Peter tries to sound stern. But that's kinda hard when you get pinned down by a super soldier and his annoying friend who decide, that they have nothing better to do than start teasing you. At this point, the movie caught no one's interest as all eyes glanced at the one-sided tickle fight breaking out on the couch.

“I hahahaven’t dohone anythihining!”

“You were squirming around and bumping into us the whole time. Neither me nor Bucky could concentrate cause of your fidgeting.”

“Thahat’s becauhse youhu kehept tickling mehehe!” protests the teen.

“Me?” asks Sam with acted surprise while holding one of Peter’s wrists down to attack his sides, causing the teen to try curling into himself, laughing loudly but failing thanks to the Super Soldier holding onto his legs “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

When Peter manages to finally capture Sam's hands and was about to slide off the sofa, a second pair of hands start squeezing right above his kneecaps. “Dohohoh’t!” he brings out between his laughter and tries kicking his legs away, but the teasing hands follow expertly. Peter bends over to fend the mean fingers off but makes the mistake of revealing his entire upper body. Sam doesn't wait, digging his fingers into the teen's armpits from behind. With a cackle, Peter falls back onto Sam's lap, where the older man takes the chance to claw into the teen's stomach and ribs, and the whole routine begins anew. By the end of it, Peter lies curled up between the two, red-faced and giggling as he tries catching both their hands, the ending credits of the movie rolling over the screen.

"Peter, the Boss is calling."

Several eyebrows rise in amusement at the speed at which the teen is up and pushes Sam half of the couch to grab his phone.

"Hey kid- did you run a marathon to reach your phone? What happened to your face?"

Peter's face flashes a new shade of red. He glares at Sam and Bucky who make kissy faces in his direction. The teen smiles sweetly at Mr. Stark before he holds a hand over the front camera and turns back, sticking out his tongue in their direction which earns a snort from Clint and a laugh from Steve and Natasha.

"Why did you cover the camera, kid? You're not hiding a house party, are you?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Mr. Stark. I just thought there was some dust on the lens. I’m with the others, we were watching a movie."

Sam shakes his head as he watches the interaction. "What a sneaky little-ow, what the hell!"

He rubs his shoulder, sending Bucky a glare.

Clint across from them wears a smug grin.

"You two are soft like soggy biscuits."

Sam grimaces while Bucky throws the pillow back at the cackling archer.

"It probably counts as a failure of assistance to let the kid sit next to you and get nightmares by watching this kinda stuff," argues Sam, crossing his arms over his chest. Steve huffs in amusement. Their heads turn towards Peter, who animatedly talks as he walks past them and towards his room, a smile painting his face.

"I don't think he's going to get nightmares," the blond says before glancing back at his friends. He grins, looking weirdly proud.

"Thanks to you two."

Read on Ao3

[crobones]

brain came up with a scenario of the first shot of season three being a concert. Louis is at the monitor, as he is directing the documentary about the band. Camera zooms into the monitor and we get that neat transition show and movies like to do. And there's Lestat, staring into the camera "breaking the fourth wall" as it were, but in an In Universe kinda way. It's a song about sex and killing. Lestat teases some fans in the crowd off camera.

CUT TO a medium shot of Lestat pressing Louis up against a wall. Two people wearing Lestat's band merch are in the background, bitten, dazed, but not dead. Lestat is covered in enough blood to imply he fed, but Louis didn't. Oh, so Lestat must've just fed from both of them, right? WRONG. Daniel enters from stage left and presses into Lestat, further pressing him into Louis.

Louis scolds them for not cleaning up after themselves. Daniel says something along the lines of "My Maker never taught me proper vampire etiquette."

Lestat says "Fuck your Maker" and starts muttering insults in French as he starts shedding clothes.

Louis says, "Didn't I teach you better, Danny Boy?" He cups his hand around the back of Daniel's neck, claws digging in enough to make him bleed a little. Daniel moans.

Lestat begins making out with Daniel and quickly pushing off his leather jacket. He mutters to himself in French, it's a fine jacket, but they need to work on his style if he's gonna tag along on their tour. It's background chatter, really.

"Taught me alotta things, Louis," Daniel says telepathically.

Louis is pushing Lestat's hair aside and kissing along his neck and shoulder, but his one hand is still on Daniel's neck.

"Damn right, i did."

Lestat lets out a wanton moan. We don't see Louis' other hand, but his arm is shifting back and forth in a rhythmic motion. Daniel's cradling Lestat's face. He bites into his own wrist and feeds it to Lestat's open mouth.

Daniel and Louis are staring each other down.

"And what was lesson number one?" His grip on Daniel's neck tightens, his claws dragging harsh cuts into his neck. Daniel's eyes close and he smiles and he looks like he could be high. Daniel's free hand moves from Lestat's jaw to around his back. Against Louis' chest. "That's right." Then down, until it's out of view of the camera. His arm also moves in a rhythmic push and pull. "You're mine."

Louis bares his fangs and is about to bite into Lestat's neck when Lestat abruptly breaks apart from them and complains about them speaking telepathically, and how he hates when he can only hear one half of a conversation, but also why isn't their attention on him? What the fuck?

They try to placate him, but he's annoyed now. Daniel apologizes. At first, he makes an off-hand remark about being kind of annoyed that no one got around to touching his dick before the mood was killed. Lestat gives him that Certified Bitchy Look. Daniel says he'll find Lestat's manager and tell them there's gonna be a small delay to get back on the bus. He promises he'll make it up to Lestat later before speeding out of the room in a blink.

my brain first just wanted to start season three with a threesome, but now I feel like my made up screenplay could be a cheeky nod as to why Lestat is now the main focus of the show.

now I'm imagining Louis cheering up a peeved Lestat by telling him he booked Lestat an interview with [INSERT IN-UNIVERSE BARBARA WALTERS]. There's an In-Universe 60 Minutes drawn out into two episodes, but there's 8 episodes in total for the season. First episode is the set up obvi, but the last five are Lestat dealing with the consequences of becoming a Public Figure Vampire. Meanwhile, Louis is still shooting his documentary, and then it's revealed this season is like a mockumentary a la What We Do In The Shadows and Spinal Tap.

[olrinarts]

Snippet Roundup

A collection of 'brief' (they are not very brief 😔) snips from each of the fics in my 'incomplete' folder right now, provided w/title and a little bit of context

1. Poor Loser - a lost knucklebones bet goes awry, and there is maybe less than ideal communication immediately following that. 90% lighthearted, 10% 'oh so they're both stupid' fare

‘Yes, that is the point of the weighted odds,’ he said agreeably. ‘What is the worst that happens, you owe me a minor favour?’ ‘Why do I think we have different definitions of minor?’ The smile they didn't trust grew wider. ‘Would you like to find out?’ Sometimes they really hated Narinder. Even when they didn't. 'Fine,' they said, picking up a die. 'But I'm going to make you regret it.' Five minutes later, the Lamb was throwing their hands up in the air as Narinder set down his last five. 'Thirty nine!' they exclaimed. 'Thirty-fucking-nine!' 'Thirty fucking nine sounds unreasonable,' he said thoughtfully. 'Ten to every three? That is just unmanageable.'

2. chimes of bone - that eldritch dieselpunk one i've been going on about, the one where Lamb gets their hand stabbed into a table right before Narinder gets kicked in the chest and into the wall? yeah that, have that and the next bit

‘Cease this,’ he spat. ‘I was here willingly! You have no need –’ He wheezed as a dark shape darted towards him, striking him hard in the diaphragm with powerful hind paws. He staggered back, gasping as the air was knocked out of him, careening into the wall. Red instantly ripped itself free from the Shepherd’s hand, unspooling through the air in its serpent shape and wrapping over his shoulders defensively as he struggled to breathe. The Shepherd rolled off the table, landing on one hoof and pivoting to face him before the second one landed, their bleeding left hand spattering blood on the table as they swung their arm out. The Pale Crown leapt from the table, landing on their arm and pivoting with the same sharp precision, claws digging into its Bearer’s skin. It was some kind of – hare, maybe, some sort of leporid, but one with branching horns and something wrong with it. Too lean. Too predatory. The Shepherd and the Pale Crown both glared at him with one eye each, radiating the same uncanny air of a predator hiding beneath the face of prey. Pale was bearing its teeth, glittering gold incisors in its ink black mouth to match the Shepherd's false golden eye, its own round white eye narrowed in loathing. Red reared up from Narinder’s back in answer, hissing in warning. He’d never seen Red so committed to a form this organic, but he was grateful for it at the moment; until he caught his breath again, he would be less than useless. At least the Shepherd had one stabbed hand and one broken wrist. Likely why the Pale Crown had taken this form.

Two more - the politific i've been talking about, and another one that is kinda best described as apocalypse-lite - below the cut (just so i don't clutter dashboards more than i already have)

3. Untitled Political Fic (Politific) - a complicated emerging political landscape in the Meadows is made significantly more complicated extremely quickly.

The Mystic Seller inclined their head. ‘Then I grant you this boon, a cementing of the new future we establish: a toy for you.’ A light began to glow in front of the Mystic Seller, a disc of white a few feet in the air higher than the Lamb’s height. ‘Benefactor, comrade, malignant foe… redemption or punishment, ‘tis yours to confer as you see fit.’ Then something began to fall, flailing a bit with a startled cry, and the Lamb instinctively darted forward to catch it before it could crash onto the steps. The body was limp, dazed and barely conscious. It took a second for who they held to really register. ‘No,’ they said in horror when it clicked, gaze snapping from the mortal face of the One Who Waits up to the Mystic Seller. ‘No, this isn’t – why have you done this?!’ ‘‘Tis not the reaction I expected,’ the Mystic Seller replied, intrigued and nothing more. ‘You remain unpredictable.’

4. in the kernel - Weird crystal growth things are starting to pop up in the Lands of the Old Faith, and it would've been really nice if it stayed that simple

To their relief, the rune's glow turned from red to white, meaning the call was going through. They waited for Narinder's charm to open the connection, not sure what they'd say after this long. Then the rune turned blue, the Lamb opened their mouth - only to drop the rune onto their bed when the first thing they heard was a blood-curdling scream. 'Lamb?' Narinder's voice said a second later, a strangled whisper. 'Of all the - do not speak, you will give my location away. Give me a moment, I am almost out.' The Lamb was only silent because he'd asked, but they'd snatched up the charm again, clutching it close as fear swam through their gut. There was another scream, then several more. ‘Fuck,’ Narinder said, which was a bad sign. ‘I need to run – do not end the call no matter what you hear, Lamb, please.’ ‘I won't,’ they whispered. ‘I promise.’ What followed were several of the worst minutes of the Lamb's life, which was saying something. They could do nothing but sit on their bed, crushing the rune against their chest, listening to Narinder run through whatever the fuck was going on. Agonised screams, the sounds of shattering glass, an ominous pulsing rumble – their only comfort was the sound of Narinder's creative swearing, because it meant he was still alive to curse the world and everything in it. Finally, after what felt like hours and couldn't have been more than minutes, the screams and other sounds began to fade, leaving only the sound of Narinder's ragged breathing. ‘I am safe for now,’ he panted. ‘I suppose if ever you were to decide to stop ignoring me, now would be the most advantageous time.’

[dullgecko]

Pulling this out separate because i know i said i wouldnt write anything but @yrbeecharmer this is your fault lol

"We should f-uhhh hmm..." Fabians sentence cut off mid word when he coughed and covered his mouth with his fist, Riz looking up from his notebook to give him a confused look.

The fighter had him well and truly penned in against the wall with the way he was standing, the rogue having set himself up in the corner out in the open since he was currently without the ability to hide in Fabians gym bag. He was half watching the fighters class while he worked on some of his rogue studies for once instead of having a nap because he was currently too big for his favorite spot. It was fine, the teacher knew he was a rogue and didn't mind him skipping out on his own classes to hang out there. Plus, half the class still hadn't noticed he was there so technically he was practicing his stealth.

Ayda had asked Riz the previous day if she could test one of her spells on him, the wizard having been trying to extend the utility of the enlarge spell to last longer than a minute and he had been researching in her library at the time. Riz had obliged the request and technically she had been sucessful, the goblin now standing at double his height and eye-level with most of his party. They'd only expected it to last an half an hour or so but, after a little research, discovered that he'd be stuck like this for at least thirty hours instead. He didn't mind so much but it had been a shock for almost everyone he knew when he'd turned up to school like normal but was suddenly clocking in at a height of six feet.

The first thing he did with his new height was pick up Kristen, Adaine and Fig in a hug and spin all three girls around. All of them laughing at the novelty of it after he put each of them down. He attempted to pick up Gorgug too but had given up fairly quickly. The half-orc was still too heavy for him to lift so they just left it at a bone-crushing hug instead.

Their fighter had completely declined the hug when it was offered, simply shaking his head and holding up a hand which Riz clocked as a little odd. Since that first interaction Fabian had been acting weird all day, and staring, then looking away whenever Riz caught him in the act. This was the first thing he'd actually said to Riz all day and it wasn't even a complete sentence.

"What?"

"Fffight. Yes, fight. We're doing hand to hand practice today and well..." Fabian waved at Riz, the goblin currently stuck at double his usual height due to Aydas botched experiment. "Well specifically we're doing pin's... and grapples. It's a good opportunity for you to learn that we might not get again. I'm sure the teacher will be fine with you participating. Fig is constantly doing the same in Gorgugs classes."

Riz tilted his head to the side and flicked an ear, noting that Fabian looked away again when the goblin grinned at him. "Fabian I know how to do hand to hand combat. I have claws and they're kind of useless if you don't know how to fight unarmed. It's just that I usually practice with people my own size."

"Ah. Right. Of course." The fighter rubbed a hand along the back of his head, glancing at the rest of his class that were still practising on the padded mats laid out on the ground. "Well perhaps you could give me some pointers. Plus, I'm finding myself bereft of a partner since one of us is out sick today."

"Sure, if you need the help." Fabians logic was pretty sound, they were the same height at the moment and if the class was stuck at an odd number getting one of your party members to help you practice was considered pretty normal. Riz flipped his notebook closed, shoving it in Fabians bag for safe keeping before letting his friend drag him to his feet and towards the mats.

Riz ended up deciding that Fabians weirdness that day was just because he was feeling ill. His face was pretty flushed after all and the rogue managed to pin him more often than he would have expected if he was in top health. There was no way that Fabian was letting him win, that would be completely out of character for him.

The rogue decided that his assumptions were all but confirmed when, after several rounds of sparring, Riz had gotten a little too into their mock combat. The goblin managing to pin Fabian on his back with his wrists above his head, straddled his chest and growled at him. Eyes contracting to slits as he held Fabians wrists against the ground and bared his teeth. The next instant Riz had been fully bucked off the fighter to land on his own back on the padded mat, Fabian already halfway across the gym at a full sprint heading for the bathroom before Riz could even sit up.