#just because it seemed the most natural course of action

[coyoxxtl]

One of the big themes of AC3 is the tragedy of colonialism. You play a native man who is aware of the colonial threats that loom over his people since he was a child, and the actions he takes in game are all in the name of protecting what’s left of his village after an attack that killed many in his community, including his mother. At first they imply that the blame is put on the templar order, because right before Ratonhnhaké:ton came to his village in flames, he was assaulted in a racially charged manor by Charles Lee. For most of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s life, he posited the blame of the attack on his village, and the death of his mother, onto the templars. I mean who can blame him. So this led him to become an assassin, and eventually siding with the patriots because, at the time, it seemed like the best course of action to stop the templar threat.

But later on he learns this isn’t how it went down. Turns out the templars he’s been targeting the whole game didn’t have anything to do with that attack (they absolutely were still a colonial force threatening his people, they just weren’t to blame for the arson) but it was George Washington and the patriots, the people he was aiding. This was during the begrudging partnership between Ratonhnhaké:ton and Haytham, the grandmaster templar, and Haytham was sick of him killing his underlings and being a general problem to him. So he set up this reveal as a sorta “gotcha” in attempts to Finally get his stupid justice loving son on his side and for him to stop throwing wrenches in his plans. This doesn’t go how he expected however, instead Ratonhnhaké:ton is just pissed that Haytham and Washington were just racist white colonists that lied to him to use him for their personal gain. Naturally he tells them both to fuck off and keeps doing him.

Of course, skipping ahead to the end of the game, his village ended up moving from their lands, something Ratonhnhaké:ton had tried to avoid happening this Whole time we were with him. This happens because we know how the story of America goes, the people native to these lands were killed, enslaved, and displaced, and this despicable country kept growing and growing. There was a lot of effort put into stopping it, but it couldn’t be done.

And that’s the core tragedy of AC3 and Ratonhnhaké:ton in general. He couldn’t stop colonialism, he couldn’t stop his people from giving up and moving from their land, he couldn’t stop so many of his own dying in the process, and he couldn’t stop being manipulated by the white men in power that made this a reality. But he knows trying to stop it regardless is the right thing to do. Which is what his epilogue speech was about. Which is why he killed Charles Lee despite learning he wasn’t to blame for his mother’s death. Even if he somewhat knows the bleak future of this reality, that doesn’t stop him from fighting, if anything, it incentivizes him.

[bookwyrminspiration]

I've been "the smart friend" for so long that I never considered I could be more but recently I've been facing the fact that I think I might also be the "full of energy silly friend". not like a jokester but just endearingly earnest, energetic, and child-like in my joy that just has and exudes fun

[lyrefromthesea]

HELLLLLAAAAW THEEERRRE, LISTEN (or read), I've been thinking. THAT I LOVE UR WRITING A LOOOOT, and I've been waiting but before that, idrk if u take req rn so feel free to discard this request! anyway, back to main topic, I've been wondering how the hashira's would react to reader/their s/o, adoring their hands a lot, like i mean— obsessed with their hands, whether its holding hands in public (or privately, if the character does not really like showing affection in public), or maybe yk hold hands in bed HWGAHGAHWHS, maybe, something like soft nsfw, like with fluff! u get me? just the character, comforting their s/o when they get too tense during their sexual intercourse, andddddd more fluff if u want! thank u for taking ur time to read!!

Male Hashira x Reader - Hold my hands

author's note: my fever has killed me a few times during this post.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: nsfw, sexual intercourse (Rengoku, Giyuu), mildly suggestive (Sanemi)

Tengen:

• who knows exactly what his hands can do to you and despite his teasing nature uses them for your comfort

• enjoys seeing you calm down because of his hands and though he doesn't want you to feel bad he certainly doesn't mind calming you down

he's been looking towards the sky for quite some time now, sitting under the tree with the person he adored most.

you were so strong, so sure of your actions-

and sometimes you felt insecure and the worry seemed to consume you. he understood it, he understood your fear of failure and the future that would follow.

that's why he had no problems consoling you when you needed it most, taking his time to sit with you in silence. words weren't needed in these times, only the comfort of his presence.

he allowed himself to glance down at you, feeling the tender touches of your fingers on his. you were strong, he didn't doubt that, but your body felt so fragile compared to his own.

the difference in the size of your hands proved it to him every single time. he knew you could protect yourself, but if you couldn't, he would be there for you.

"i think i'm feeling better." you said, your eyes finally focusing on his face instead of his hands. you had been touching and playing with his fingers for quite some time now, your hold on them decreasing.

"ya sure? you still look down." he answered, earning a hesitant nod from you. feeling your hand let go of him made him act, bringing his own hand up to the back of your head.

"i don't believe it and lying is not flashy in my eyes. let's stay a bit longer." you were quite surprised when he pressed your head against his chest, looking up at the sky again.

somehow he always knew what you needed, even when you didn't admit it. and with a gentle smile, as well as his hand running through your hair, you sunk into a deep slumber.

Obanai:

• who is surprised when he found out you were fascinated by his hands.

• someone like you adoring a feature of his? the mere thought made him blush when he was laying awake at night.

• who enjoys holding your hand just as much as you, often turning into a blushing mess.

he knew he wasn't as strong as most other hashira. he was smaller, physically weaker. of course it gave him one or two advantages, like a flexibility the tall males around him could only dream about.

yet he secretly found himself craving their strength - at least a part of it. he wouldn't complain about a bit more arm strength, but that would remain a dream of his.

the moment he found himself content with the lack of strength he possessed clearly came with you. you had been sitting next to each other, simply enjoying the time you could spend together. at least that was what he was doing, your mind had long drifted away.

he tensed up when he felt your fingers brush over his, holding his hand. your thumb brushed over his knuckles comfortingly.

he didn't dare look at you, only turning towards you when he felt you glancing, uncertainty rising inside you with his current expression. his hand reached out to you when he felt you pull away.

"i shouldn't have done that, i'm sorry." you said, trying to escape any rising feeling of shame. you just didn't expect him to hold your hand tighter.

"don't stop." he answered, his tone letting it appear much more like a quiet plead. surprise overtook you, quickly replaced by a comforting shyness.

your fingers interlocked with his once more, this time with switched positions. you felt goosebumps appear on your skin, your cheeks heating up.

"your hands are soft, [name].."

Rengoku:

• whether it's in public or at home, he enjoys holding your hand just as much as you like holding his

• however, one attractive thing he does is taking your hand after overstimulating you

"honey.." he pants, trying not to cum a second time from the way you were squeezing around him, body basically trying to milk him even in your current state.

it had started a few hours ago, when he came home from a long mission. he had missed you during his time in the snowy mountains, deciding that his arrival would be the perfect moment to show you how much he appreciates your body.

having to cum multiple times - first his fingers, then his tongue and now his cock - was just too much for your poor body.

of course Rengoku realized that, seeing you shake and tremble under him, small tears running down your flushed cheeks. you were still caught up in your orgasm, trying to even out your breathing pattern.

"it's okay, we're done. breathe, little flame." he panted, hands letting go of the sheets of your shared bed, sitting upright and looking down at you.

he didn't pull out, simply admiring your panting form laying on the bed. his hands snaked along your arms, holding your hands and pressing them into the matress.

feeling the warmth of his palm press against yours got your attention, a silent moan leaving your lips. "are you okay?" the question made you nod quietly, finally being able to register the world around you again.

"'m so sore.." you mumbled, watching the man above you laugh, squeezing your hands in response.

Sanemi:

• he absolutely loves it

• you clearly developed a liking to your hand and he's fully using that to fluster you

• taking you by surprise is his favorite

you've been standing in the kitchen, making sure all the medical herbs you've received were in their right place. you needed to make sure they're easily accessible when Sanemi came home injured.

in your concentrated state, you didn't notice the tall man approaching you slowly - lurking like a predator.

and then you shriek, feeling a slap land on your ass. out of reflex you leaned forward, your head quickly turning around to find Sanemi right behind you.

"missed me?" he teased, stepping closer until he was right behind you, hands placed on the counter on either side of you. he pressed his body against yours with a smirk, resulting in your face getting a lot warmer than before.

"Sanemi! you always do this!" you scolded him, trying to turn around from the sheer embarrassment you just faced or rather the excitement that pooled in your body.

"what can i say? can't resist you with a fine ass like that." he chuckled, letting go of the counter to squeeze your behind with his calloused fingers, earning a whine from you.

"and truthfully, i think you can't resist me either." hearing him whisper into your ear, hand traveling up your side, made you stare at the watch.

he was right, you couldn't resist him, nor could he resist you. besides, the herbs could wait for a while.

Giyuu:

• initially he was the one that liked holding your hands, it was the most simple form of physical touch he could come up with

• still a touch-starved man, WILL have his hands on you the whole time when you're making love.

• knows it gets you more exited, wouldn't judge you for it either, since he gets just as exited when he sees you

"Oh~ baby.." he gasped, head resting against the headboard of your bed. he watched you lazily bounce up and down his cock, trying to work yourself into ecstacy.

whenever you were sharing such passionate moments with each other, he could feel his fingers twitch with the need to hold onto your body - onto you.

they first slid up your thighs, holding onto your hips, guiding you to grind back against him. he loved the feeling of your warmth and he loved the reactions his hands could coax out of you.

he didn't miss out on the way your lips opened in a silent cry, begging to feel his hands run over your body, around your neck or anything else that allowed you to feel them.

and of course he'll answer.

"hold.. hold my hands.. i want to feel you.." he moans, letting go of your hips only to intertwine his fingers with yours, feeling your hips stutter.

he certainly knew how to exploit your weakness for his hands - especially since he was just as weak for you.

Gyomei:

• likes using his hands to calm you down

• they're like a security rope connecting the two of you when the situation makes uncertainty rise within you

"my dearest child, are you ready to serve as a hashira?" the soothing voice of master Kagaya usually managed to calm you down, but not today.

you sat in front of him, a private meeting being held between the two of you and a pillar of choice. naturally, you went with the one you trusted most - the stone pillar.

it would've been an honor to serve as a hashira, every demon slayer knew that, but being confronted with the choice of being one, you found yourself unsure.

the pillars were the strongest humans you had ever set your eyes on, you weren't sure if you could stand by their side.

lowering your head in shame, you were ready to decline the master's offer. however, you were stopped by the blind man next to you.

he placed a large hand on your back, the warmth seeping into your skin slowly calming you down, letting you think properly.

you weren't chosen without a reason, if the master wanted you to become a hashira, he trusted in your talent.

swallowing down your uncertainty, you nodded with little to no hesitance. "i'm ready."

next to you, still his hand on your back, Gyomei found himself smiling. if it was his presence you needed to make a decision, he'd gladly do this for you everytime.

[lunahearts]

Soooo I read all of Dungeon Meshi in this past week and I have many thoughts bouncing around in my brain and I think the only thing to do with them is some AGGRESSIVELY CLOSE READING of a scene I wanted to come back to and try to understand better.

So: I want to talk about chapter 28

This entire section of the story is something I feel like I am going to want to come back to a lot, because its such a transitional time and I feel like there are a lot of themes/ideas that I wasn't fully aware of during my first reading, and stuff I missed because of that.

One of the biggest things I have been turning over in my head is... hey, what was UP with the Marcille/Falin bath scene? Maybe it was because I was already primed to pay attention to stuff with them going into the story, or because I had already seen a couple of panels out of context. In any case, it really kind of stuck out to me as being very short but also VERY intense, while also being... hard for me to define? Some part of the nature of the intensity felt like it was going over my head.

I wasn't sure that revisiting it would help with this right away, but to my surprise, it actually WAS a lot easier for me to follow and understand when I went back to it. So I want to just do a close reading of That Scene and some other parts of the chapter & context around it all, because I think it offers insight into Falin & her relationships, and what purpose this chapter serves within the story as a whole.

So first of all, I think it's interesting that the scene starts with Marcille bathing Falin.

It feels very caring in a more platonic, less charged way then what will follow.

Marcille goes from this caretaker mode to joining Falin in the bath, and then of course we get the first of The Panels

(as a small note, I only noticed when revisiting that Marcille is using the rest of her Kelpie soap in the bath. Isn't that just the most heartwrenching little detail. Augh)

Anyway, one of the first things I thought was interesting going back to this is how much it reminded me of the very different sort of intimacy that came just before it - when Laios and Marcille assembled Falin's bones.

This is such a beautiful and intimate sequence, and something about Marcille examining Falin, whole, after the fact... I can't imagine there are not some echoes of those bones in Marcille's mind. The action seems more startling/intense for Falin at first, and maybe part of that is because Marcille has already experienced this level of intimacy with Falin's body in a way Falin herself wasn't a part of.

This panel in particular I think is a summation of the difference in the experience for them. This looks like... near orgasmic for Falin tbh, and Marcille is very focused on the actual like practical part of what she's doing, seemingly completely unaware of the Effect she is having on Falin.

The whole short sequence is focused on this intimacy that Marcille initiated seemingly without fully being aware of what she was actually doing. And once Marcille is satisfied, she is also the one that ends it, sitting back in the bath and moving out of Falin's proximity. All on her own terms, and for her own ends.

HOWEVER... Falin doesn't just let things go.

Instead, she returns Marcille's attention. First, by asking after her wellbeing:

Marcille, of course, deflects (there will be a lot of that in this scene).

But Falin doesn't let it go.

Falin is not a confrontational person. She likes to keep the peace. In this context, and in context of the way that Marcille was the one to come into Falin's space initially, the way that Marcille controlled the initial intimacy... this is striking. I genuinely think that these three panels might convey one of the most assertive actions Falin (as herself) takes in the entire story. One of the only things that outdoes it is the fucking INCITING INCIDENT OF THE WHOLE STORY.

I'd also like to point out here that this action of Falin's also parallels her resurrection by Marcille & Laios. It's is also a forbidden magical action done to save someone(s) she loves, and its something she does TO them, that they are not fully aware/able to react to until its done.

Anyway, back to the bath scene. Falin is taking action here and asserting herself. And how does Marcille react?

She flips out!! She rejects it! She tells Falin that she isn't supposed to be acting like that.

It's a very distancing response from Marcille, and also one that puts her back in that caretaker mode from the start of the scene. She also puts even more distance between herself and Falin by sinking into the water.

Falin doesn't give up though! She continues to assert herself. She's okay, she is allowed to chose to do this.

And Marcille continues to push her away. It looks to me like she only starts to relax a little once she fits Falin into a role she can better define and control. You're a patient, you're recovering, I understand this fact and you don't. Let me take care of you.

But, for a third time, Falin pushes back.

I don't think it’s coincidence that this is where she opens her eyes. She asks directly about the thing that they have both been dancing around:

The resurrection spell. The fact that Falin KNOWS about this, at least in part, recontextualizes the quiet battle for control between the two them. They both know at least some part of the truth. Marcille wants nothing else then to ignore it. Falin wants to be able to talk about it. Marcille's blatant refusal to give her those answers, I think, is what keeps them out of sync - intimate only ever in one direction at a time, never fully together.

And of course, even when directly confronted, Marcille refuses to engage with the truth.

This moment being on the bottom of the page is notable too. There's a beat here. The last panel holds on Falin's face. The reader reaches the bottom of the page, and they are held here for a beat as well, with Falin. It's not quite a rejection yet. What Marcille says isn't directly an answer to Falin's question, but it is a response. A valid one, even! Falin wasn't just asking the question after all, but struggling with guilt that Marcille has every reason to want to reject.

But then you move on the next page, and...

Marcille isn't actually addressing the question at all, not directly. She's deflecting, again. Oh we had a ~difficult time~, there were a lot of "tough situations." Even though she and Falin both know about the resurrection, and Falin has made it clear that she wants to talk about it, Marcille pushes away from the actual topic. She keeps things broad and indirect.

She offers the smallest gesture to Falin - nothing more than a whisper of 'don't worry about it I won't get in trouble' (even though Falin's concern was never just about Marcille getting in trouble).

Marcille then continues to deflect even further, completely changing the subject onto clothes and frog adventures, which seems to distract Falin as well, as she finally gives up on pushing.

And that's where the scene ends! Marcille pushes into Falin's space (without fully realizing), and Falin pushes back. She tries three times to get Marcille to acknowledge her wants, and three times Marcille rejects her, though she does eventually convey some truth. She is honest in her belief that Falin doesn't need to feel guilty, and that things will all work out, even as she continues to deflect the rest of the question. Falin finally accepts that, the topic of conversation changes, and we move on.

But there is a little bit more that happens between them. Towards the end of the chapter, they have this little 'oh no we have to share a bed' situation. Classic stuff.

And Falin seems to realize that the context of this is kinda different now then it was when they were in the magic academy. She's not a kid any more, and they just had those intimate moments in the bath. There's a new tension between them, or one that new at least to the bed sharing of it all.

And in this respect, too Marcille pulls away from what Falin is trying to say. She tries to frame Falin as a kid, tries to insist that nothing is different.

When I first got to this part, it honestly felt... a little uncomfortable? After the bath scene, it is really weird to move into a new intimate situation with Marcille explicitly treating Falin as a kid.

What I have realized in coming back to this scene, though, is how much I think its meant to feel uncomfortable. Throughout the chapter, Marcille's responses to Falin become increasingly patronizing. By letting some of that conflict between them resolve at the end of the first scene, the chapter seems to let things rest, and lets you set it out of your mind.

Then, when the same type of conflict comes back at the end of the chapter, Marcille is even more blatantly treating Falin like a kid, and the unfairness of it hits even stronger. They are both adults, and Falin deserves the truth. After 27 chapters from the perspective of Laios, Marcille, and the others in the group, this progression lets you feel things from Falin's perspective. It's supposed to feel uncomfortable because it IS uncomfortable for Falin, the way no one will quite tell her the truth.

After all, Marcille isn't the only one to do this kind of deflecting when Falin tries to ask about what happened. Laios has a similar response, right down to the 'treating her a bit like a kid' part.

Even more importantly, this final conversation of the chapter reveals one last layer in the knowledge/power imbalance between Falin and the rest of the party: she doesn't actually remember sacrificing herself and teleporting them out.

As I mentioned before, that action was one of the most assertive things we see Falin do in the story, and she doesn't even get to keep that for herself. Instead of being her action, her choice, it becomes yet another thing that the others know more about than her.

I think that's part of why there is such an air of melancholy to this hug they share on the next page

Obviously, obviously, there are so many emotions here for Laios and I don't think its all meant to be viewed as a negative thing, or that he or Marcille are being completely unreasonable. They've been through a lot, and what's more, they think they have time now. So much more time then they actually will have. Time to explain, to open up, to let Falin return to the group in full - as a teammate and not just as someone to be cared for and protected.

But they don't get time. And this relenting by Falin, this "I won't do it again," it's not something that feels triumphant. It's an attempt to comfort them, more a prayer than a promise. As if she is trying to exorcise a spirit. As if she is capable of promising that death won't come, eventually. It's what Laios needs, not what she wants.

That's the real tragedy of the chapter, I think. It's the one time, in the midst of everything, that they have the chance to give Falin what she wants - and they don't do it.

But I do think they realize that, and I think that this failure is a core part of their journey. It's another bittersweet taste to add to the mix - all the missed chances in this chapter to connect, amidst the moments of genuine peace they do get throughout it.

As Laios puts it later...

If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, and perhaps if they hadn't failed her here, they never would have had the adventure that they got to share.

(or, perhaps more tactfully: in life & chapter 28, there are both good times and bad. Thanks, Chilchuk)

[areyouwell]

Sciophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of shadows. An adult or child with Sciophobia may experience extreme stress and anxiety in everyday life due to the nature of light and shadow.

Ch.2

Ch.1 <---

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: the most DISGUSTING, tooth-achingly sweet fluff, like candyfloss-style shit. i vomited twice writing it and once again proofreading it. they make pasta together for TWO THOUSAND WORDS so if that ain't yer thing im sorry the good stuff will start soon. and by that i mean body horror. i threw up writing that for a completely different reason...

Word count: 11k (strap in and strap on folks)

A/N: as mentioned in the warnings, this is almost pure fluff. sure there's MC rage so strong my timbers were shivered but other than that it's mostly fluff. i want you guys to know, i am setting us all up for failure, because this WILL get sad. but it'll get hot first, then downright filthy, the a little disgusting before it gets sad, we got a while to go so booties ch.2 LFG

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit

“Maybe just try… concentrating harder?” 

It took all of your willpower not to cross the few steps it would take to punch Scott’s lights out. Why the Professor assigned him to help with your training, you’d never know. Sure, it wasn’t like you were constantly at each other’s throats like he and Logan seemed to be, but you never exactly saw eye to eye either. Scott was too… neat, for you. He liked rules too much, always following what his head told him he should do, rather than following his heart or gut. It was infuriating on missions, and you’d had plenty of arguments about the correct course of action before he became the de facto leader whether you liked it or not. 

That was shortly before you went away, so you didn’t really have much time to experience the dictatorship of Scott Summers, and now you were back, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to. 

“Ya know what Scott? I’d never thought of doing that, thanks!” you bit sarcastically, sweat beading along your brow. You’d been at this for well over an hour now, hour two fast approaching with no progress. You’d successfully shadow-walked, though Cyclops noted your hesitation to do so. But could he blame you? The idea of shadow-walking and then suddenly not having the strength to pull yourself back together, or whatever it was you did, was quite frankly, terrifying. 

Scott sighed, placing a hand on his hip and running the other through his hair. “Alright, take ten, I’ll talk to the Professor.” He said, already making his way towards the iron doors. You let loose a frustrated breath, bracing your hands across the back of your neck. This was hopeless. Utterly hopeless. What’s worse, is that there was no proof you could actually do those things. No proof that was the Professor was saying was fucking true. 

You were glad the back wall was cast in shadow as you stormed across the floor, sending your fist careening into the metalwork, instantly regretting your outburst when the crack of your split knuckles rang out louder than the punch itself. Clamping your lips between your teeth to stop yourself from crying out, you let yourself breathe through the pain, savouring it just slightly. It was good. Pain was good. It reminded you how you weren’t just a pile of shadows wandering aimlessly through the air yet. You doubted you could feel a broken hand if you didn’t have a hand to feel with. 

Turning your back to the wall, you slid down to the floor, head buried between your knees with your arms casing you in, throbbing hand gripping your opposite shoulder tightly. You wouldn’t cry. You would. Not. Cry. That wasn’t you. You don’t cry. Since when did you cry?

This was how Logan found you. He’d been stuck in a meeting with Xavier and Storm all morning, going over the blueprints of the latest rescue mission the team would embark on. Though in all honesty, he was barely listening, his thoughts disobediently drifting back to you. The memory of your smile, the teasing lilt in your voice, the way your arms felt wrapped around his neck, the scent of your hair invading his heightened nose. He wondered how you were getting on with Scott, and he pitied the fact you were having to do this with Scott. That was until the man of the hour walked through the doors, disrupting the meeting and finally releasing him back into the world. 

It’s no wonder his feet led him straight to you, you’d been on his mind that much. So to see you like this, curled up against the opposite wall, your hand an angry red, it tugged at his heart. 

You didn’t seem to notice him as he crossed the room, only looking up when he kicked the gym mat with his foot. There was that smile again. The one that didn’t reach your eyes and only serve to fool people who were fucking idiots into thinking you were okay. 

The last person you expected to see walk through those doors was Logan. Last you’d heard, he was stuck in a meeting with Charles and Ororo. Scott was initially furious he’d been asked to help develop your mutation instead of intent ‘crucial strategy meetings’ so he called them, but he soon lightened up when you not-so-subtly reminded him it’s because Charles thought he was the best option to help you. 

You sighed heavily, bracing your good hand on your knee as you rose to your feet. For Logan to see you in such a sorry state wasn’t high on your list of priorities. You were pretty sure it wasn’t on that list at all. 

“Not goin’ well?” he asked softly, and you had to grit your teeth to stop yourself from tearing up. You watched his eyes flicker from your face to your hand, thick brows pinching in concern. You followed his line of sight, not that you needed to, you could fucking feel your knuckles pulsing fire up your arm. 

“Uh, no, not really. I’d love to say I did this punching Scott, but he left before I could, so I took it out on the wall instead.” You half smiled, and Logan found himself blowing out a huff of laughter. Even in this state, in this mindset, you could still find humour. 

Sinking your hand into the shadows across the wall behind you, you felt the familiar tingle of, what you now know was your body breaking apart, before the slight itch of pulling it back together as you dragged it back out, good as new. 

Logan thought for a moment, hazel eyes flicking from you to the shadows behind you. “Have you tried–”

“If you’re about to say ‘concentrating harder’ I might have to hurt you.” You interrupted, much to his amusement.

“I’m assumin’ that’s what Scott said?”

“Word for fucking word,” you said with a slight lopsided smile. Now that one reached your eyes. 

Logan took a few steps forward, now borderline pinning you against the wall. If it wasn’t for his hearing, he would have missed the way your breath hitched slightly, the slight shudder in your exhale. He chalked it down to your apprehension toward your situation. He had to. Giving himself hope like that just led to a shit load of hurt.

“What I was goin’ to say, was have ya tried from in there?” he raised a brow, his eyes looking past you and at the wall behind, and you had to take a minute to remember what you were talking about, his proximity all but throwing all and any thought out the window. It was achingly familiar to yesterday in the kitchen.

“You might be onto something…” you breathed when you remembered how to form words. Now you were thinking about it, he could be right. Why on earth were you trying to call the shadows to you, when you could drag them out with you? However, the idea of once again disappearing into shadow didn’t fill you with the same sense of freedom it once did. 

And Logan could see it. The hesitation, apprehension. You’d told him you were scared last night, but this was the first time he’d seen it. “I’ll be right here, yeah?” Fuck the way you looked at him shattered his heart. You wanted to be brave, you wanted to have the same sense of wonder you always did when it came to your mutation. He looked at the clench of your jaw, the flare of your nostrils as you nodded. 

“Alright… don’t go anywhere.” you half-joked, sliding your hands down the cool wall behind you, feeling your skin tingle at the mere idea of disappearing into the darkness. 

“Where would I go? You’re right here.” Logan responded, placing his index finger on the centre of your forehead and pushing ever so slightly. It gave you enough courage to fall back into the darkness, feeling the release of those threads holding your corporeal body together. 

Logan wasn’t really sure why he said that and he hoped to fuck you were too nervous about this whole thing to actually register what he’d said. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he watched you fold into the shadow, taking a few steps back and looking at his watch. Any longer than three minutes and he’ll start to think this was a really bad idea. Though, he probably should have told you that before you disappeared. 

Fuck.

It was always a strange sensation. Your consciousness was still intact, but the rest of your body had disappeared, scattered into a million different pieces. Probably billions. You couldn’t see, but you didn’t need to. You could sense. Sense the layout of the room. Sense where the shadows begin and where they end. Everything became nothing, and it was freedom. Quieting your thoughts, you concentrated. Concentrated on pulling. It was the same itching sensation you felt when leaving the shadows, except you tried to ground yourself.

Ground yourself in a place that had literally no ground.

This was fucking impossible.

You felt yourself slipping, the shadows around you not knowing what it was you were asking. Did the shadows have consciousness too? You didn’t know. Who fucking knew? And you didn’t fucking care. You tried to concentrate again, pulling against those threads you used to bring yourself from one place to the other toward you.

And only succeeding in moving again. Walking. This was no fucking different to what you’ve always done. Just moving from one point to the next. You’d already fucking mastered that. 

But at least one good thing had come from this. You weren’t afraid anymore. 

You were fucking angry.

Your consciousness writhed like a ball of angry vipers, pulling at all and any threads you could sense around you, flicking from one place to another with no rhyme or reason, no direction. 

If you could scream, you would have done. If you could lash out, you would have done. Rage rippled through your senses, those threads around you thrashing and flailing. Useless. Fucking useless. Maybe this was the fate you deserved. Disappearing into nothing, being nothing. Maybe you did deserve it. 

But you wouldn’t fucking accept it. Not yet.

This is “–fucking POINTLESS!” you roared, stepping from the shadow, your body itching all over, buzzing with adrenaline, your back almost burning. Your eyes took time to adjust to the light again, but you were too furious to register anything. “What’s the fucking point? Nothing works! I can’t pull them toward me, I can’t pull them with me, this is fucking stupid!” you continued your tirade, almost feeling the physical weight of your failure heavy upon your shoulders. “I can’t fucking do it, so why bother trying? It’s been a day and I’m already sick of this shit!” you heaved, breath searing your newly formed lungs, sending shockwaves of fire through your shoulder blades. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been this angry. “If this stupid fucking mutation doesn’t kill me I’ll do it myself I swear to fucking god and what the FUCK are you smiling at Logan?!” You bellowed, your eyes finally registering what they were seeing. 

Logan had probably the world’s most gorgeous smile, and you wished you weren’t too pissed off to appreciate it. But before he had time to answer, Scott and Charles entered the room, Scott dropped a mug of what looked like freshly brewed coffee straight onto the floor, the shattering of the ceramic lingering in the air as the room fell deadly silent. 

“What?” you asked, now slightly fearful as the three men peered at you, each with a different expression. Scott seemed utterly horrified, his jaw slack and agape. Charles looked almost smug, a knowing smile pulling at his lips. And Logan?

Logan just grinned at you, arms folded across his chest. “You did it,” he whispered, nodding to what you thought was the wall behind you. Your eyes lingered on his as you turned your head, finally looking at what everyone else in the room seemed to be seeing. 

Honestly, you were fucking shocked you didn’t notice. At least now the burning in your shoulder blades had an explanation. 

Two broad, rippling wings of pure shadow spread wide from your back, the darkness almost pulsing along with your rapid heartbeat. It felt good, and you noted the lack of pressure about your body. Those threads that seemed constantly under strain had loosened, seemingly constantly fed by the shadows at your back. 

You slowly pulled at the strings, watching the wings move and shift with your intentions. Your fury dissolved as you watched in complete awe, along with the three others in the room. They folded close to your back and you felt the buzzing of energy against your leg, before you extended them again to their full size, tips grazing either side of the room. 

“Wh… H-how?” Scott managed to stutter, taking a cautious step forward. You looked from your shadows to Cyclops. 

“It, uh, it was Logan’s idea. Pull them out with me rather than trying to pull them towards me…” you were still reeling, slowly extending your fingers before trying to move the rest of your body. You didn’t know how much concentration it was taking to keep them intact, and you were a little afraid of letting them slip. Your breath came heavy as if you’d run around the estate at least four times. 

Logan looked back at Scott, unable to help his ‘fuck you’ brow raise. And to his satisfaction, Scott clicked his tongue in irritation. He turned back to you when he heard your slight laugh, clearly having noticed the silent exchange between them.

“How did you even know about this?” Scott asked accusingly.

“She told me.” Logan retorted as if it was the most obvious response on the planet. Scott just stood there in shock.

“She… she told you? She told you. As in, the one over there?” Cyclops pointed at you and you flipped him off in return.

“Yeah? Who else would we be talkin’ ‘bout?”

“It’s just, she doesn’t tend to… do that,”

“She is right fucking here!” you held your arms up, gesturing to yourself in a way that thankfully returned the boys’ attention back to the situation at hand. 

“Yeah well, this is all well and good,” Scott continued, crouching now to pick up the larger pieces of the shattered mug, “but how do you release them?” he finished. 

He had a point. You couldn’t wander around the school with two giant wings stuck to your back, as much as you wanted to. How would you get through the doorways? Xavier wheeled forward until he was next to Logan, his face now much more serious.

“Carefully. Release it too quickly and the threads could go with them,”

“Wouldn’t that just mean she would be back in the shadow?” Logan asked, slight concern lacing his baritone voice. There was a catch here, and every single one of you knew it. 

“Ordinarily yes, however, she cannot disappear into her own shadow. If she releases those threads anywhere other than back to its original form, there’s a risk of her disappearing with it and getting stuck,” He explained, to nobody’s understanding. You knew you couldn’t disappear into your own shadow, you’d tried before and your body simply wouldn’t let you. 

“So wait… I can pull the shadow with me but have to return it to where it was, essentially?” you asked, slowly so that your question could be understood, even by yourself. Charles nodded, and you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. 

Logan couldn’t help but feel partly to blame for this. He’d encouraged you to take this step, to try alternate methods of developing your mutation, and now he had, you were stuck like this until you felt sure you could release it carefully. Shit.

‘She made it this far because of you. We have a chance at changing her fate because of you, Logan. You cannot regret that.’ It was always jarring when the Professor found his way into his head, and it wasn’t the least bit soothing. What did ease him a little, however, was your slight reassuring smile, renewed with confidence. 

You could see he was battling with guilt, terrified that he may have endangered you. But you could do this. You’d already managed to achieve something you never thought you could today, what’s one more miracle?

“Hooookay, let’s try this… carefully, right?” it was a rhetorical question because honestly? You were a little scared, and stalling seemed to give you time to collect your thoughts and calm your slightly stuttering heart.

“Carefully,” Charles instructed, and you nodded once before taking another deep breath. Holding it for a few moments, you tightened the threads you hoped to fuck were holding you together, keeping them in place before blowing out the breath, releasing your connection to the wings behind your back. You felt them bleed down your shoulders, shivering slightly as the shadows snaked down your legs and back against the wall behind you, returning to their original state. 

You’d closed your eyes at some point, honestly, you couldn’t remember when. You were scared to open them, scared to see if you’d fucked anything up, if parts of your body were just completely shadow, or whether you had accidentally grown multiple limbs or something. You knew your mind was running away from you, but you couldn’t help it, as ridiculous as it felt.

Logan smiled slightly to himself as he watched the shadows wash away and return to the wall, and that inward smile broadened when he noticed you weren’t moving, eyes clenched shut, your hands balled into fists, your shoulders tensed and hunched. He stepped forward and up to you, gently bracing his hands on either side of your neck, thumbs angling your jaw up a little. Your soft gasp didn’t escape his ears.

“Y’alright?” He asked, eyes searching your face before finding your own gaze, your lids having fluttered open. You visibly relaxed, one hand that was previously balled into a tight fist now gently sliding up his wrist, resting atop his forearm. Your touch was electric, fingertips sending shivers down his spine. 

“Fine, I think,” you responded, gliding your nails through the hair on his arm. It was an absent response to his touch. You wanted to be closer to him, to bury your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his pinewood scent. His breath was a mix of mint and tobacco, and you wondered if his lips had a permanent hint of whiskey if you were to taste them, having been told by a grumbling Jean that was who the hidden, half-empty bottle in the cupboard belonged to.

You instantly mourned the loss of his touch when he stepped back, though you were grateful he did. You’d been dangerously close to kissing him, and whilst you still wanted to, perhaps not without an audience of Charles and Scott.

“How are you feeling?” You blinked when the Professor addressed you directly, having forgotten what living in reality was like for a few moments. Nodding along with an answer you hadn’t voiced yet, you grinned along with a deep, contorting rumble of your stomach.

“Apparently, starving.” A chuckle escaped your lips and you braced a hand against your stomach in an attempt to soothe away the uncomfortable feeling of hunger. 

“I think that’s enough for today. Logan, could you take this one to the kitchen? Make sure she’s fed.” There was a knowing look in Professor Xavier’s eye that Logan wasn’t sure he liked. Sure, he may have just lovingly held your face whilst bringing you back from the brink of terror, but that didn’t mean there was anything going on between the two of you. You met yesterday!

“Sure.” he shrugged, trying his damnest to sound nonchalant about it. You stretched your arms up above your head, popping your elbows slightly as you followed Logan from the room, feeling a thousand times lighter than you did when you entered two hours ago. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you’d succeeded. 

The doors closed behind you with a soft swish, and you paused to appreciate the man walking ahead of you. You’d known each other for less than twenty-four hours, and yet you’d tear the fabric of the universe apart to ensure his safety. You knew almost nothing about him, and yet you felt the strangest pull towards him, a yearning to be around him, to be near him. It was infuriating, but so fucking exciting at the same time. Could this maybe be something? Did he feel this weird connection too? Or was it just your delusions working overtime? Honestly, hard to say.

“Take a picture, it’d last longer.”

You snapped from your daze to notice he’d turned back to you, realising you weren’t following him. Flashing him a broad smile, refusing to feel any kind of embarrassment that he’d caught you practically staring at him, you jogged a little to catch up, effortlessly falling into step beside him.

“Wanted to thank you,” you looked up at him through the corner of your eye, catching his own gaze. 

“What for?”

“Everything. Logan, I’ve known you for less than a full day and you’ve already helped me more than people I’ve known practically my whole life. The Professor excluded. So yeah, thanks.” You shrugged, hitting the button on the lift to take you both back up to the ground floor. The doors closed and you leaned against the back wall, crossing one ankle over the other. 

“You need better friends if you’re thankin’ me for anythin’. Wouldn’t anyone else do the same?” he asked, mirroring your stance against the adjacent wall, folding his arms across his chest. You snorted a laugh, and he found himself smiling at you.

“Yeah, friends would, but like I said, we haven’t even known each other a full twenty-four hours yet.”

Logan cocked a brow, his smile morphing back to a small smirk. “Well pardon me, princess, I thought we were friends.” 

You rolled your eyes, and Logan had a horrendous feeling he’d misread the entire situation between you. “I mean like, lifelong friends, asshole. People I’ve known ever since I can remember. Not people I met yesterday,” you finished, gently kicking his foot with your own. Logan straightened up as the lift slowed to reach the ground floor, softly flicking your forehead in response to your kick, causing you to bat his hand away.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? You made an impact,” he shrugged, and you grinned.

“Oh yeah?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, bub. I’m just sayin’ you show up after not existin’ and immediately cause trouble.” he watched your expression shift from mischievous to a sheepish pout, unable to beat the trouble-maker allegations. He sighed slightly. “But hey, maybe I like trouble.” The doors opened for the both of you to leave, Logan being the first to make his exit. Though, you stayed behind for a beat.

“Or maybe trouble just likes you,” you retorted with that same lopsided smile he’d come to admire so much, before pushing back against the wall to join him. 

“Yeah well, ‘m’not mad about it either way,” he mumbled, and you thought better about teasing him for it. You imagined this was about as close as he was gonna get to voicing genuine care for you, so you let it drop, simply humming a thoughtful smile in response. 

You don’t know why you were expecting the kitchen to have a few people in it, since classes were currently going on. Maybe it was due to the fact you hadn’t exactly settled back into the life of a teacher yet. Not that you were a teacher anymore, the man currently rifling through the snacks cupboard had seen to that. You found, with no small degree of surprise, that you missed it. You missed teaching combat and strategy, you missed taking the kids through training drills and exercise routines. You missed helping them hone their mutations, with Jean’s help, or Ororo’s help. Sure, the worry of them getting hurt always used to play on your mind, but now you were back, you realised that the worry was worth the fulfilment. 

Taking a seat at the table, you propped your chin up on the heel of your palm, watching as Logan crouched to one of the cupboards below the counter. You didn’t pretend like you weren’t enjoying the view. He really did look fantastic for one hundred and thirty. In peak physical condition.

“I’d say take a picture again but I’d really rather you didn’t,” you were too focused shamelessly staring at his ass you hadn’t noticed he was peering at you over his shoulder with a not-so-subtle smirk. You flashed one right back.

You were coming to like that phrase. “I wouldn’t be opposed,” you retorted, wiggling your brows up and down. Logan snorted a laugh. 

“You flirt with everyone like this?”

You shook your head, moving to rest your chin on top of your now interlaced fingers. “Nah, only with the ones over ninety. I have a thing for older men,” you winked and he rolled his eyes.

“Stop,” but judging from his expression, Logan was finding this just as amusing as you were. But as much as you wanted to continue, your curiosity got the better of you.

“What’re you looking for?” you asked, standing from your seat at the table and skirting around the wood to sit on the edge closer to him, peering down over his shoulder. 

“There used to be a packet of insta-noodles in here somewhere but I think one of the kids got to it first,” he explained, and you gasped dramatically, to the point where he actually looked a little concerned over his shoulder. “What?”

“Insta-noodles? My brother in Christ, please tell me you were not about to give me instant fucking noodles?” you felt something in you die at the thought, and something else died at his affirming nod.

“Yeah, what's wrong with that?” he asked, genuinely perplexed by your reaction. It was just noodles for fuck’s sake, it wasn’t like he’d just offered to kick a baby. He blinked at your barked laugh of disbelief, watching as you hopped off the table and shooed him aside.

“Step back fossil–”

“Hey!”

“and let me do this. We’re going to actually have food. Like, real food. Take a seat or watch and learn.” You shot him a look over your shoulder, before gathering whatever ingredients you needed. Logan dragged one of the chairs back from the table, taking a seat to watch whatever it was you were about to make. 

You started by dicing an onion, a pan with oil already heating up on the gas stove, and it took all of three minutes for Logan to be impressed by your knife skills. You almost wielded the thing like a dagger, flipping it this way and that, before scooping half the pile of onion and dropping it into a plastic bowl. The other half you scraped into the pan, and Logan couldn’t help but savour the sound of the sizzle and the smell of food. Suddenly, he too was starving.

You crossed to the fridge, rummaging around the bottom shelf before pulling out a tub of minced beef, and a packet of mushrooms. Closing the door with your hip, you lay the ingredients out on the counter, pulling open the cupboard above your head to retrieve a box of breadcrumbs and a carton of eggs. Though he saw you pause briefly, turning your head back to him.

“You’re not vegetarian or vegan, right? Probably should have asked yesterday,” your question made him laugh, and you tilted your head to the side. “What?”

“Do I look vegan to you?”

You stuck your tongue in your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. No, no he didn’t. But at the same time, you’d made a similar mistake in the past. And it still haunts you to this day.

“Just answer the question, Lo’” you grit, placing a hand on your hip. Logan blinked, trying his best to get past the nickname you’d just given him. Usually, nicknames were his thing, having about a million different ones for a million different circumstances. He barely managed to shake his head, earning himself a smile of gratitude from you, before you turned back to your task at hand and he could settle himself with his brow pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

You crouched again, rifling through the cupboard with cans. Pushing a stack of soup to the side, you froze solid, your eyes blowing wide as your hand shook at what you saw. Another mug, though someone had gone to great lengths to hide this one. Your fingertips grazed the faded image, a photograph of a younger-looking you and a girl with fair features, her braids tied back at the top of her head. Her smile was brilliant. Dazzling. It took you a moment to will your blurring vision away, before inhaling deeply and bringing out the chopped tomatoes you’d been looking for, setting it to the side. Taking a moment to push her from your mind whilst stirring the slowly browning onions, you then cross to fill the kettle, flicking the switch to start boiling. Logan blew out a breath, having recovered from his heart stuttering and finally went back to watching you cook. 

It was calming, almost hypnotic, the way you moved about the kitchen. Folding the onions in with the beef mince, breadcrumbs and two eggs. Only, it just occurred to him he had no fucking clue what you were making. Standing from his seat, he moved over to lean his shoulder against the fridge door, now having a clear line of sight to watch what you were doing.

“What’re you making?” he asked, smiling slightly as you startled. He didn’t mean to scare you, he just honestly didn’t realise how deep into the process you were. 

“Meatball Marinara,” you answered, your fingers incorporating the ingredients in the bowl until you were left with a sticky, meaty lump you could form balls out of. 

“From scratch?” he asked, eyes slightly wide. You’d spoken at length about your cooking last night, and how you’d learned, and it wasn’t that he didn’t believe you, it was more that he didn’t quite realise how impressive it was until he was here, watching you. 

He swore, your smile could start and end wars.

“It’s pretty quick and easy, to be honest,” you explained, eyes never leaving your task despite feeling his own trained on you. You grabbed the salt from the spice rack, twisting the grinder a few times until you felt it was right. That was what a lot of cooking was for you. Just feeling. When you felt something was done, you’d take it from the oven. When you felt something needed a little more seasoning, you’d sprinkle some paprika in for an extra kick. Nothing was ever done by the book. 

It’s mainly why you didn’t exactly get on with Scott.

“Huh…” Logan responded, watching how you’d started to take small portions of the beef and roll it into little balls, placing them onto a separate plate. 

“Could you give the onions a quick stir? ‘ve got meat hands,” you wiggled your slightly shining fingers in his face, and he jerked back, much to your amusement. Logan fought the urge to flick your forehead again, settling on ignoring your evil little laugh and instead focussing on his critical mission of stirring onions. 

“D’ya cook like this when you were away?” he asked, finding an insane amount of domestic comfort in cooking with you. He saw you shake your head out of his peripheral vision. 

“Nah, didn’t have time, plus I was moving around a lot. Usually, it was quicker and easier things than this,”

“Like insta-noodles?”

You could fucking hear his smirk, and you managed to stop yourself from cracking an egg over his head. “No. Never insta-noodles. Ever.”

You’d finished making little meatballs and had started splitting apart a bulb of garlic, crushing the cloves beneath your knife before peeling off the skin and dicing them before dropping them into the pan he was still stirring. His eyes closed involuntarily as you leaned across him, once again your scent hitting him like a freight train, only this time your shampoo had blended with the sweet, slightly musky smell of your sweat. It was enough to drive him fucking feral. 

“Keep stirring that, or it’ll stick to the bottom and burn,” you instructed absently, halfway through chopping up a few mushrooms before leaning across him again to drop them into the pan as well. Logan held the spoon like it was his lifeline, knuckles draining white as you moved around him to retrieve another pan.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded, and you snorted another laugh. He really had to pull himself together. 

You poured the boiled water from the kettle into the new pan, lighting the burner and setting it on a high heat, bringing the water roiling before grinding salt for what Logan felt was far too long. He wondered vaguely if you had high sodium levels, or how your blood pressure was. You waited again for the water to come back to a boil, before placing a sizeable amount of spaghetti into the pan, putting slight pressure on the tips so the ends would soften and bend faster in the water. 

Placing the lid over the pan, you went to check your watch. Your watch that you weren’t wearing. Fucking goddamnit. You looked around for a clock, before noticing Logan’s wrist. 

Logan’s soul nearly left his body at the way you grabbed his hand, twisting his wrist to make a note of the time. You weren’t exactly rough, but it was assertive enough for him to think twice about the kinds of things he was into…

Wait, what the fuck was he talking about?

“You could’ve just asked the time,” he muttered, tugging his wrist back almost possesively. 

“Hm?” you blinked. In truth, you’d been utterly lost in how good this felt. How right it felt to just do average, mundane tasks with him. “Oh, right, yeah, sorry. Could you tell me when ten minutes have passed?” you asked, almost instantly busying yourself again by carefully dropping the meatballs into the pan he was stirring. “Gotta brown off the meat first…” you instructed softly, almost absently. But he listened, slowing his movements. Your resulting smile was radiant. “Hey, you’re a natural!”

Logan raised a brow. “I’m stirring a pan, bub. Not exactly gourmet style.” You laughed, gently hitting his bicep with the back of your hand, only to stop in your tracks, shaking your knuckles out. 

“Ow! I thought you said your bones were made of adamantium,” you exclaimed, rubbing over the back of your hand with your other palm. In truth, it didn’t really hurt, but you just wanted to make a point because nobody has the right to be this built. It was insane.

Logan bit his tongue to stop from smiling, his eyes sliding from that pan to you. “Just the result of a good workout regime,” he shrugged as if it were nothing special. In reality, he knew he looked good. He put a lot of work into his physique, and whilst his mutation did help with that, it was still nice to be complimented on it once in a while. 

“Huh… you don’t say,” you responded, cracking open the can of tomatoes once the meatballs had browned to your satisfaction. The metal sizzled slightly as you poured in the sauce, setting the can to the side and retrieving a few basil leaves from the window box on the opposite side of the room. Logan hadn’t noticed it before, remarkably, and though having no experience with plants in recent history, something told him he wouldn’t have too much trouble identifying what they were.

It was a weird feeling. Remembering something he didn’t actually remember. Though it had been the story of his life for the last few years. 

You dropped the leaves into the sauce, leaving him to stir the pot whilst you brought out two sets of plates and cutlery and set them on the counter, angling your head so you could catch sight of the time from the watch on his wrist. He would have just told you if he didn’t think you were deriving some kind of joy from attempting to read his watch sideways.

Removing the lid from the pan, you scooped up a single piece of spaghetti, blowing away the steam before dropping it into your hand when you thought it was cool enough. You shot him a quick look Logan could only describe as pure mischief, before throwing the spaghetti against the backsplash of the stove. He watched as the pasta hit the wall with a sick squelch, before sliding down the tiles. 

He looked back at you, and you almost instantly burst into fits of laughter. “The fuck was that for?” he asked, his brows furrowed in perplexion. 

You managed to recover from laughing, though hiccuped through a few giggles. “You can tell whether spaghetti’s done by throwing it at the wall. If it sticks, it’s raw, if it slides, it’s done,” you exclaimed, tilting your head to get another look at the time, noting that those ten minutes were up.

“Really?” 

“Nah, that’s an old wive’s tale. Honestly, it’s just kinda fun to pelt spaghetti at a wall and call it ‘cooking’.” You sent him a wink, and Logan shook his head in fond disbelief. He felt like he’d seen so many sides to you in the last twenty-four hours alone. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he wanted to see more. He wanted to see how many sides to you there were, and whether he would like them all as much as he liked the ones he’s already seen. Your fury included.

“Your ten minutes it up, by the way,” he reminded you, and though he had a feeling you already knew, you nodded in thanks anyway, removing the boiling pan from the stove and flicking off the burner, the blue gas flames retreated to nothing. Skirting around him to the sink, you tipped out the water, using the lid of the pan to stop the rest of the spaghetti from falling with it. You shook the pan slightly, shaking out any pieces that had stuck together, before setting about separating the contents into two portions, one slightly bigger than the other. 

“How’s it looking?” you asked, leaning back to take a look at the sauce. If Logan had to grit his teeth after smelling your scent one more time his jaw would fucking snap. You really weren’t making this easy on him, were you? Part of him wondered if you were doing it deliberately, but there was no way of you knowing about his heightened senses. Unless you’d asked around, which, with everything you’ve had going on since you got back, he sincerely doubted. 

“Looks good to me, but I’m not the expert here,” he handed you the spoon, stepping to the side for you to take over. Your fingers brushed his as you took it, and he tried his fucking best to ignore the slight buzz you’d left. 

Lifting the spoon to your lips, you sampled what you’d been slaving over for the last twenty minutes, smiling slightly as the sweet, tarty flavours burst on your tongue. It was a new sensation for Logan to wish he was a spoon, but here he was. 

“Perfect!” you beamed, dipping the spoon back in the sauce and turning to him, your palm cupped beneath the wood to prevent anything from spilling onto the floor. “Wanna try it?”

Logan shrugged, stepping forward and allowing you to bring the spoon to his lips. Your eyes never left his, the tips of your fingers grazing the coarse stubble beneath his chin, but you didn’t move away. He struggled to focus on anything other than how close you were to him, the feeling of your fingers on his jaw, your breath fanning the lower half of his face. Your hopeful eyes waiting eagerly for his verdict, searching his expression for any kind of clue. And he was suddenly afraid of what you’d find there. 

Stepping back, he pretended like he was savouring what you’d fed him, and whilst it was fucking delicious, it didn’t compare to how he imagined your lips tasting. Or anything else, for that matter. 

“‘S’really good,” he managed, and you immediately looked as if you weren’t waiting with bated breath for his approval.

“Isn’t it? Fuck I’m good,” your laugh was more akin to an evil mastermind than someone who’d just made meatballs, but Logan would be hard-pressed to find another time in his life when he felt this at peace with the world. At least, not in the life he could remember. “Sit, I’ll bring it over,” you instructed, removing a larger, metal spoon from the drawer, which he took off you the moment he could.

“Pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way ‘round, bub. You cooked,” he glanced pointedly to the seat you’d just gestured to. But clearly, you were, amongst many other things, incredibly stubborn. 

“Not sure how you worked that one out, you cooked too,” you folded your arms across your chest, setting your jaw. 

“Yeah, barely. Sit your ass down,” he pointed to the chair with the spoon in his hand, but you still refused, now leaning against the counter as if you could get any further away from the table. Logan sighed heavily, placing the spoon down again. “Didn’t wanna have to do this…” he muttered, and you didn’t have the chance to ask what he meant by this before his arms were around your waist and you were lifted effortlessly off the ground. 

All breath fled from your lungs. Your hands instantly fell to his shoulders, nails clinging on for dear life as he carried you to that godforsaken chair. His grip around your body tightened as you attempted to wriggle free from his arms, laughing breathlessly, exhilaration coursing through your body. Only, the moment he tried to set you down, you did a complete 180 and wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist.

“Let go,” his words were muffled against your neck as he bent almost double, and you leaned back until you were practically hovering above the chair.

“Seemed like a good idea a minute ago, huh?” You arched a cocky brow and were met with an expression mirroring your own. 

“So you gonna cling to me forever? That your genius plan?”

“If that's what it takes,” 

“Let go,” the way he said your name almost had you falling to the floor, your muscles suddenly growing weak. But you stayed strong, out of nothing but principal at this point. He wasn’t even holding you anymore, you were clinging on through sheer willpower alone. For the sake of being stubborn.

“You made this bed, now lie in it,” you responded haughtily, refusing to look into his irritated façade.

“That doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” he growled, and you fucking melted. That wasn’t fucking fair, and judging by the steadily growing smirk, he knew it. His hands gripped both your calves, successfully peeling you from his waist whilst you were distracted. You had no choice but to let your legs fall to the floor, catching yourself on the chair behind you, much to his triumphant grin. 

“You cheated!” you gaped, sitting cross-legged on the seat. Logan barely looked over his shoulder as he started spooning the sauce onto the two piles of pasta. All that over fucking spaghetti. And you didn’t even regret it a little.

“How’d I cheat?” he asked, though you were aware he knew full well how. And you were right. He did know. Of course he knew. He’d used that specific voice countless times before. Usually under very different circumstances. He just wanted to hear you say it. Hear you say how it affected you. 

But, true to form, you were stubborn.

“You’re stronger than I am,” you sighed, glaring heated daggers into the back of his head. You wanted to be petty, to stand up and take the spoon from him again, but in all honesty, you don’t think you’d survive another round of ‘sit on the fucking chair’.

Logan looked at you over his shoulder, his eyes swirling with knowing, and you stuck your tongue in your cheek and looked away, not giving him any satisfaction of confirming what he was thinking. You’d been so caught up in avoiding eye contact, that you almost jumped when he set the plate down in front of you, setting his own at the opposite place. At least he’d had the sense to realise the large portion was for him. Credit where credit was due, you guessed.

A comfortable silence blanketed the kitchen as he took a seat, two glasses of water in his hands, and you smiled a thank you. If you had your brother to thank for anything, it was teaching you how to cook. Well, it was many more things than that, but at this moment, it was cooking lessons. He didn’t want you going into the world with the culinary skills of a carrot. His words, not yours. 

You had a feeling Logan was a hard man to impress, so listening to his small grunt of appreciation was music to your ears. “Told ya I was a good chef,” you beamed after swallowing a mouthful and taking a large sip of water. 

Logan nodded in agreement. It wasn’t like he could disagree, the proof was right there, in front of him, in his fucking mouth for fuck’s sake. And the peace pesto from last night. Though he was glad his metabolism was fast. Pasta two days in a row can’t be good for anyone. “Never said you weren’t,” your expression fell from pride to scowling in seconds, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “You’re a fantastic chef.”

Your eyes narrowed as you searched for any hint of dishonesty, but you came up short. Though he said it as if to placate you, something told you he really meant it. You were just playing around, in all honesty, teasing in order to forget what just happened between you, and you’d gotten so much more than you bargained for. 

Much like the other night, you both fell into comfortable, mundane conversation, finding refuge in how fucking normal everything felt right now. You laughed and smiled as if the threat of disappearing into nothing didn’t constantly hang above your head, and he teased and joked as if the weight of his forgotten life didn’t constantly burden his shoulders. You could get used to this. Dangerously used to this. 

Logan was completely enamoured by you, once again finding himself encapsulated by the way you talk, from moments where you get really into whatever story you’re telling, to quieter moments when you let the conversation settle. If he was to die tomorrow, unlikely but worth entertaining from time to time, it was moments like these he was sure would flash through his mind. 

“What about you? I’ve talked your ear off about my life but you never talk about yours. Though, I guess there’s a lot to talk about,” you mused thoughtfully, twisting your fork through your spaghetti, or whatever was left of it. Logan grunted, shifting in his seat to lean against the back of the chair.

“It’s not a happy story,” he admitted quietly, buying himself some time by taking a long glass of water. Your gentle eyes found his, a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“I’m not looking for a fairytale. Just who you are,” you fought the urge to reach across the table and slip your hand into his. Though you didn’t want to push him to divulge anything, you just didn’t wanna feel like the whole conversation was one-sided. Sure, he would chime in with a few anecdotes but mainly it was just asking you questions. 

If he was being honest with himself, Logan wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you anything about his past. He knew you wouldn’t judge, clearly having seen a fair amount of bullshit yourself, and the fact that it simply wasn’t who you were. No, his problem lay with the fact that he didn’t want to dampen your spirit with his sob story of a past. How he only remembers through thrashing nightmares, waking up soaked in sweat, heart racing. You didn’t need to know any of that. 

“Alright… I–” he began before quite literally being saved by the bell. Logan looked at his watch, brows raising at how easily time had once again run away with the two of you. You blinked, looking around as if you could find the bell and ask it personally why it was going off so early before the echoing of ongoing conversation shattered the domestic delusion you’d both managed to trick yourselves into feeling.

“Another time,” you stood from the table, leaning over to grab his plate, but he swatted your hand away and instead took your own. 

“Never learn, do ya?” he asked with a slight smile, and you rolled your eyes. With a heavy, defeated sigh, you conceded, simply allowing him to take your plate to the sink. Stretching your arms high above your head, you popped your stiff shoulders, turning your head as two students you knew well entered the kitchen.

“You made meatballs?! No fair, I wanted some!” Jubilee whined, her books still clasped against her chest. Artie stuck out his forked tongue, much like a snake would taste the air around it before his curious face morphed into a frown. It seemed he too wouldn’t have minded meatballs. 

Logan looked over his shoulder at the two newcomers, his eyes darting between you and them, your guilt written all over your face.

“I’ll make them for you again sometime soon. We could have one of those big dinners we used to do, remember those?” you asked, your eyes alight with hope. Logan had heard of those. Apparently, you used to cook for the whole mansion, and the students would drag tables and chairs from all different rooms and have a huge feast together. Of course, he didn’t believe a word anybody said about it, since he was convinced you were a figment of everyone’s collective imagination, but now he knew you very much did exist, he could envision you dancing around the kitchen for hours on end, preparing dish after dish.

Jubilee’s face lit up at the suggestion, her hand hitting Artie’s arm excitedly. “Seriously? You mean that? We’ve missed doing that so much. Nobody cooks the way you do!” She bounced on her toes, before whirling and darting from the room, most likely to tell the rest of her friends. Artie lingered for a few seconds, clearly not knowing whether he wanted to stay or to race after Jubilee, before he too turned on his heel and ran after her. You chuckled softly, running a hand through your hair.

“What’ve I gotten myself into…?” you muttered, startling slightly as a hand rested on your shoulder. You looked up at Logan, unable to accurately decipher his expression. All you knew was that it was soft. Softer than you’d seen in the last day or so. 

“Were y’always this good with em? The kids?” he asked, and you huffed a laugh. You wished you could say yes, absolutely, you’d always been naturally gifted at looking after children. But that wasn’t the truth. 

“Fuck no. Used to hate kids, to be honest with you. Thought they were annoying as fuck when I first started,” you admitted slightly sheepishly. “But, they grew on me. Still not a fan of like, other kids, but any who come to this school? Love ‘em.” 

“Makes me wonder why they sent you ‘round America and not someone more suited.” his eyes glinted with mischief and you lightly elbowed his ribs.

“I can be incredibly persuasive.” 

“That so?”

“Mmmhm,” you nodded emphatically, stepping out of his range and immediately missing the warmth of his palm on your shoulder. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left it there until you moved away and hopped onto the table, your feet dangling slightly. He didn’t take his eyes off you, scanning your face as though he was considering you. You cocked a brow. “What?”

“Teach with me.”

You blinked. Well, you weren’t expecting that. “Come again?”

“Teach with me,” he repeated as confidently as he’d said it the first time. You scoffed a laugh. 

“What? Why?”

Logan shrugged. “You’re better with the kids than I am, and it would give you a good opportunity to develop your mutation in a combat setting.” And I get to spend more time with you.

You hesitated. “I– I don’t know, Logan. It’s… I don’t think it’s a good idea,” While you wanted nothing more than yet another excuse to be around him, you didn’t know if getting back into teaching was the right thing for you at the moment. Yeah, you missed it. Fuck, you missed it more than you thought you would, but you really meant it when you said you weren’t cut out for it. If only you weren’t the only person who thought so. 

“One class.” he bargained. “Help me with one class tomorrow and decide from there.”

You pursed your lips, and Logan could almost hear your internal debate. “You’re not gonna let it go til I do it, are you?”

“Probably not,” he smirked, knowing he’d just got you to agree. Your resulting sigh confirmed it. 

“Fine. One class. No more than that.” In all honesty, you would have agreed just to see his resulting smile. 

“We’ll see about that bub, class starts at one tomorrow.” 

You nodded once, nerves suddenly bubbling in your gut. You were going to teach again, after being out the game for the last two years. Fucking hell you wanted to throw up. But you took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. Maybe this was a good thing. A blessing in disguise. Sure, it had been a while, but maybe Logan was right. Maybe your mutation would only develop under times of stress. You were incredibly stressed today, and look what happened. 

“Alright, I’ll talk to Charles and Scott, see what they say,”

Logan huffed, clearly irate with the idea. “Don’t give a shit what Scott says. He couldn’t help you after almost two hours. I was there for two minutes and you made progress,” he huffed, and you couldn’t help but laugh slightly. Was he… was he jealous? No, that wasn’t possible. What would he have to be jealous about?

“Alright tough guy, rein it in. The way you helped out earlier, it wouldn’t surprise me if Charles is telling him you should be taking over my training,” you hadn’t even thought about it before you said it, but now it was out your mouth, you realised it was entirely plausible. Especially since anyone with eyes or ears could see how much better you got on with Logan than you did Scott. Logan suggested one approach and it worked like a charm.

“Ya think so?” Fuck was the hope in his voice as obvious to you as it was to him? The idea of helping you with your mutation, whilst slightly terrifying, excited him. He couldn’t help but think that would be a learning experience for both of you.

“Yeah, why not? Like you said, Scott couldn’t help after two hours,” you shrugged, hopping off the table. “Anyway, I’m in dire need of a shower and comfier clothing, so I’ll see you in a bit.” Logan almost cried at the thought of you no longer smelling like you do now, and he had half the mind to tell you to forget the shower, you smelt that fucking good. But he also didn’t want the reputation of the weird-smell guy, so instead of trapping you in his arms and begging you not to, he simply nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, see you later.” He grumbled, trying not to be obviously annoyed by the fact the time you’d spent together was coming to an end. You shot him a confused look, before disappearing out the door and up the stairs to your room. Logan stayed for a few more minutes, his eyes closed as he finally let himself get lost in your scent. He wanted you. Fuck he’d only known you for a day and he wanted you. How the hell was he supposed to just behave normally now you were back living here? It simply wasn’t possible. 

He groaned, running a hand down the side of his face. On the one hand, he really wanted to spend more time with you. He was actively looking forward to spending time with you. But on the other, he didn’t know how much longer he could behave himself. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep up this ‘friendly’ banter with you without it crossing the line. Had it already crossed the line?

Jesus Christ, he didn’t even know. He couldn’t help thinking this was likely about to get extremely messy if he didn’t get his shit together. But, at the same time…

He always liked a little mess.

Freshly showered, moisturised and pampered, you lay face up on your bed, your room feeling more like a forest than anything else. The steam from your shower still rolling out from your bathroom, and the more tropical plants you kept seemed to be absolutely thriving. You were thrilled, you really were, but you couldn’t take your mind off the day you’d just had. Not that it was over, it was only five in the afternoon, but so much had happened in the last day it was hard to wrap your head around.

You’d been replaced as a professor, your bedroom stolen, and you’d been informed that the mutation you thought you knew so well wasn’t actually what you thought it was at all, and that it could very well end you in seconds. You’d thrown a fit, broken your hand, dragged shadows toward you and constructed them into a pair of fucking awesome wings, and cooked with a man you’d known all of two minutes.

And the strangest fucking part was that you couldn’t get him off your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was honestly getting a little irritating, seeing his face every time you close your eyes, hearing his laugh when your room got a little too silent. Feeling the ghostly touches of his arms around your waist, his hands on your neck. His breath against your ear. 

You flapped your arms down on your bed in defiance. You would not lie in bed thinking about him all evening. You refused. And luckily, due to an unexpected visit, you didn’t have to.

“He likes you, ya know,”

You screamed, whipping your head back to your door where you saw Kitty strolling in, completely unphased by your reaction. Grabbing one of your pillows, you threw it at her approaching form, watching as it soared straight through her body. Your jaw flapped, completely speechless. “I– Wh– Kitty! You can’t just waltz in here unannounced! Scared me shitless!” you exclaimed, running a stressed hand through your hair.

“Why? I always used to. Been gone that long, huh?” she asked, plopping down on the end of your bed and crossing her legs. 

“Yeah… guess I have,” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for your accommodation to be broken into. The moment rumour got out there was a mutant staying a few streets over the road, you had to move. Sometimes you hadn’t been quick enough and had spent the rest of the evening frantically scrubbing blood from beneath your fingernails, before making a quick exit.

Those were the times on your travels nobody needed to know about. Those were the times you’d keep to yourself. 

You jumped again as your door burst open, a frantic Logan looking you up and down before his eyes darted around the room. “You alright? I heard screaming,” he panted, slightly breathless from clearly having sprinted up the stairs. 

Your heart grew five sizes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Kitty scared the shit out of me, ‘s’all,” you shrugged, too focused on him to notice the woman of the hour beaming wildly, looking between the two of you. 

His shoulders sagged, the man visibly relaxing, his eyes lingering on yours. “Okay…”

“Okay…” you repeated, unable to tame your disobedient smile as he almost awkwardly nodded his head. 

“Right. I’ll uh, yeah. Leave ya to it,” he clicked his tongue, sending you one last glance to make sure you were really okay, before closing the door. 

You sighed, shaking your head fondly, chuckling quietly to yourself. 

“Oh. My. God. You like him too!”

Looking up with unnatural speed, you scoffed, waving your hand dismissively. “The fuck are you talking about?” you asked a little too defensively.

“I’m talking about you and Logan. He clearly likes you, and now I can see that you like him too! Oh, this is so fucking cute, just wait until I tell Marie, she’ll go fucking crazy!” Kitty clapped her hands excitedly, and you had to catch one of her wrists in order to stop her. 

“What are you on about? Logan doesn’t like me, we’re just friends,” oh, was it supposed to hurt that much to say it? But, in all honesty, you don’t think you were ready to confront whatever it was you felt for this man. For now, you were pretty content to bask in not knowing, and being kind of excited about it.

“Mhm? Friends don’t eye fuck in the kitchen.”

You choked. Her tone was so matter-of-fact that if you weren’t actually looking at her, you wouldn’t have believed you were talking to Shadowcat herself, Kitty Pryde. “Kitty! Christ, what happened to you? And we weren’t eye fucking. I was hungry and refused to cook insta-noodles, so we actually made a meal.” You explained. 

“For almost four hours? Meatballs take twenty minutes, twenty-five at a push,”

“We lost track of time!”

“I repeat, for four hours?” she asked again, folding her arms and raising one of her thin brows. You pursed your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else incriminating. “Though as much,”

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

“You didn’t need to, it’s written over your lovestruck face.” She poked her finger toward your nose, and all you could think about was the way Logan flicked your forehead beforehand or the way Logan gave you that little push back in the training room. Or the way Logan–

Christ on a fucking boat when would it end?

“I’m not lovestruck,” you mumbled, dragging your knees up to your chest. You debated telling Kitty about your predicament with your mutation, for the sole reason of explaining why you and Logan were spending so much time together recently, but you didn’t think you could bear the look on her face. The only ones who knew, to your understanding, were Scott, as the leader of the team, Jean, as the leading scientist, Charles for obvious reasons, and Logan because you told him. You didn’t really want another person to know your problems, especially not Kitty. 

You couldn’t bear to see her face when you told her you weren’t a phaser anymore. The mere thought broke your heart. You had matching mugs and everything. You couldn’t do that to her. Let alone sharing the idea that your mutation could simply not allow you to return back to the corporeal world one day, and you’d be stuck as nothing but wondering consciousness in the shadows for, effectively, all eternity. That was a little too morbid to talk about even with Logan.

“He’s just… helping me get back into the swing of things. I haven’t been a teacher for a long time, Kit, and since he took my position, he’s offered to help me–”

“Get back into teaching! Oh my god, he has, hasn’t he? That’s so exciting! I thought you didn’t want to get back into it?” She asked, untucking her legs and swinging them around so she was now lying comfortably on your bed, her head propped up on her elbow. 

“Well, we’re not getting ahead of ourselves, but yeah, that’s the idea. Gonna help him with his class tomorrow…” you trailed off, your heart beginning to accelerate at the thought of teaching your first class in two years. “So yeah, that’s why we’ve been spending so much time together. It’s nothing serious, promise! Plus, since most of the new students are kids I found, he’s pretty much the only person I don’t know here.” You flopped back down onto your bed, angling your head so you could still see her.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, a moment to let the conversation settle and for your heart to slow a little, before Kitty spoke up again. “He was really excited to meet you,” she offered quietly, and your brows raised subconsciously. “Everytime someone started talking about you, he’d tune in. He was subtle, but Marie noticed it first, and she told me to look out for it. He was looking forward to meeting you for the best part of a year.”

You took a deep breath. That couldn’t possibly be true. “You’re good at seeing things that aren’t there, Kit. I love you for it, but sometimes things really aren’t that deep,” you explained softly, trying your hardest not to smile at the image of Logan only tuning into the conversation if it was about you. It was definitely a stretch of the imagination, but it was a pleasant one.

“Yeah yeah, you watch. I’ll be keeping an eye on your totally platonic relationship with Professor Howlett but mark my words, you’ll be together by the end of the month,” Kitty smacked your calf to emphasise her point, and you shook your leg threateningly, laughing at the notion. 

“I cannot wait to see you eat your words. I’m sure they’ll taste of falsehoods and regret.” You flashed her a toothy grin, and she stuck her tongue out in retaliation. You’d missed moments like these. In all honesty, you hadn’t realised how lonely the last two years had been. Hadn’t realised how starved of friendship you’d been until you found yourself talking and laughing amongst friends again. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed this place until you came home again, to both the old friends, and the new. 

[intothegenshinworld]

     "An Enchanted Evening" 

Banquets and parties alike weren’t uncommon in the Zapolyarny Palace. Funny enough, you seemed to be getting invites to them nearly every other month. One of the more silly perks of knowing Pulcinella, you suppose.

 ⟡

Like any other event, PULCINELLA would be the one signing his name as the sender of your letter of invitation. With your long standing acquaintance, he can’t help but see you as his adopted grandchild and a possible successor in the future. No matter the event, he’d try his best to involve you. At first he only did so to grant you access to the most elite connections in Snezhnaya and to elevate you to a higher status, but you quickly found your way into the hearts of the other Harbingers as well. From serving glasses of champagne during the annual winter ball as a server, to being seated amongst the most important people in Snezhnaya as a beloved friend. – Luck must be on your side if you’ve swayed all of their hearts, and who are you to refuse their affections?

As another close acquaintance to the 5th Harbinger, it's natural for CHILDE and you to have a close connection too. While you might not share the same lust over power and battles, you're able to confide in him without judgment. He is good company, and he often shares the most epic stories from his adventures and the more wholesome ones of his family in Morepesok. Should you at any time find the banquet to be boring, he's more than up for leaving and sneaking you out. However, be prepared for a scolding from Pulcinella once your missing presences are noticed by the others.

If you decide to sit next to PANTALONE at the banquet, you’ll likely catch his smile crumble at some point during the banquet—it being replaced by a scowl as annoyance visibly sets on his face. When yet another plate crashes or a fight breaks out and chairs get thrown across the room, he unconsciously counts the heaps of mora he’d need to spend on repairs just because a few people are insolent and refuse to have manners. Fortunately, he seems to have a soft spot for you. If you ever happen to break anything, on purpose or not, he suddenly seems to be oblivious to the action. Ask him anything, and he'll get it for you. After all, everything has a price, and what's a few million mora and a couple of favors if he can capture your heart in the end.

After a glass of wine, SIGNORA will start to share gossip with the Harbingers, often causing arguments between others as these bits of news are not in favor of her colleagues. She watches the entertainment from a safe distance, but if you call her out, she’ll try to avoid causing any more chaos during the banquet. Of course, in return she expects you to keep her entertained instead. If you drink, she’ll coax you to drink enough for you to spill your own secrets. And while she doesn’t care about the safety of others' private affairs, she’ll keep yours close to her chest.

As the fireplace crackles in the background, ARLECCHINO will mutter disapprovingly under her breath. The loud arguments, the spilled wine, — she can't stand the lack of etiquette at the table, and the sight of an elemental attack nearly hitting you makes her cringe. So, go on. Sit next to her. She'll keep you safe from the more unruly Harbingers. In the meantime, if you're polite and express genuine interest in her, she might share a few stories from Fontaine — but only if you offer some stories of your own in return. No ulterior motives, she simply wishes to know you at a more intimate level than the others do. 

Between the enthusiastic and annoyed Harbingers, SANDRONE appears to be disinterested. Unimpressed by the stories of her colleagues, she sits in the chair, poking the food on her plate with a bored expression. If you try your luck by approaching her for a conversation, she’ll likely gain some energy. Mention her robots or any of her current projects, and she'll expect you to listen thoroughly for the remainder of the night. Don't worry, if you fall asleep you can rest your head on her shoulder. It's not like she'll be joining any dances or the conversation of the others anyway.

While the fellow Harbingers are captivated by the variety of food and bustling atmosphere, CAPITANO will find a way to excuse himself to take a breather. Often, events like these are exhausting, and as a soldier of war, he’s unable to fully relax or make small talk. Still, as he walks out into the quiet halls of the palace, he hopes you’ll follow him. He doesn’t need someone to check up on him, but your worry warms his heart and he adores it when you fuss over him despite his status and rank. As you approach him in the halls, he’ll tell you he needs some air, and when you hesitantly turn to give him space, he’ll call out your name, holding his arm out for you to take — asking if you’d want to join him on a walk before returning to the ongoing banquet.

The banquet would be incomplete without DOTTORE causing a commotion. Whether it's arousing a heated argument between others or spiking the drinks with god-knows-what, he's up to something and you're forced to keep an eye on him unless you want to be his next ‘experiment’ at the event. There is no way you'll talk him out of it either. But if you decide to cover for him, keeping still as he throws a strange liquid into the drink closest to him, he might let you in on his unconventional ideas of fun, if you can handle it, of course.

While most of the Harbingers try to stir up trouble, SCARAMOUCHE thrives on creating pure chaos and watching the place burn down. He constantly gets into arguments, finding the whole ordeal unpleasant, and yet you see him present during every event you’re invited to. And while the Doctor schemes and gets away with the many pranks he pulls, the Balladeer finds amusement in the anger of others, uncaring of the consequences and keeping things unpredictable as people yell at him for the ninth time that night. Ask why he's never attacked you and he'll tell you that your reactions aren't worth it. But is that truly all? Perhaps the fleeting glances are a sign of something more.

COLUMBINA will go unbothered by the chaos around her. Even as food flies around the room, she remains unfazed. Her serene and enchanting presence seems to be an anomaly amongst the others, but don't be fooled, she has you right where she wants. During the banquet, she'll capture your attention and successfully steal you away from any other conversations. She'll find ways to hold your hand and somewhat sneakily steal food from your plate. You're not sure when the night ended either, time seems to flow weirdly when you're around her. 

PIERRO sits at the head of the table, chatting with the more quiet people that sit next to him as he calmly observes the others in the room. The demands of being the director of the Harbingers have left him feeling drained, making him too exhausted to actively participate in the lively atmosphere during events. Instead, he seeks solace in the quiet moments.  If you're able to slow things down with him, you'll find yourself a permanent seat beside him.  And as you’re able to get to know him better, he starts engaging in more conversations with you. For once, it appears that he might genuinely be enjoying himself.

©intothegenshinworld. Do not copy, repost, translate, or take heavy inspiration from my content. Thanks for reading.

[natriae]

Dad!haikyuu is everything! I imagine Omi being your fake date to a family gathering and he swoons at your interaction with the kids until an auntie shoves a baby in his arms and he’s like UHHHHH 🧍🏻”don’tcrushthisbaby don’tcrushthisbaby” And now everyone including yourself can’t take their eyes off him 😭😭😭😭

STOP I LOVE THIS

warnings: fake dating, fluff, cue flustered kiyoomi

One month ago Sakusa Kiyoomi took you aside during one of your usual hangouts with Atsumu to ask if you could pretend to be his girlfriend. Your brain told you over and over that this is a terrible idea, but you couldn't help yourself and said yes. Plus, it was one night at his mom's house. You already knew his family it wouldn't be to shocking to see you by Kiyoomi's side.

That's the thing. Your heart strings started to be pulled on the moment the two of you walked through the door and Kiyoomi let out a short, quiet "we're dating now." His mom's only response was to pull you into a hug and explain how she's been waiting forever for this. After greeting the two of you she told everyone the good news.

You felt terribly guilty for lying to her but Sakusa seemed unbothered. Maybe you were just being dramatic about the whole situation.

Somehow mid-way through the night you ended up spending most of your time with Kiyoomi's sister's kids. She was your favorite Sakusa. She also was the only one who knew you had a crush on her brother since middle school. She would help you get pretty for him, but it never worked. She claimed it did, but you never saw any progress. You and the children were in the basement playing with toys while a random kids TV show played in the background. The characters would sing and save the day successfully holding the attention of the youngest Sakusa. She isn't even one yet, but she has the whole family whipped except Kiyoomi of course. For some reason he tries to stay away from her leading you to never actually meeting the little one til today. She was adorable. She'd bounce her arms up and down while babbling to the song. In front of you was her older brother, and Kiyoomi's first nephew. He had toy trucks and a few random characters from animes you know and some you don't. You were helping zoom the cars around the basement, crawling on your knees still you looked up to see Kiyoomi has finally decided to spend time with you. You could have swore you saw his lip twitch before he stepped pass you and sat on the couch switching the TV channel.

Kaia, the youngest, immediately started crying when she couldn't hear the joy of a few cartoon pups saving the day. Quickly you ran over to her picking her up to help calm her down. You lightly bounced her on your hip while giving small shushes to the baby. You walked away from Kiyoomi because your pretty convinced by his actions that he doesn't like children. Which tears a bit of you heart knowing that you always imagined what having kids with him would be like. What a great dad he would be, but that's all in your imagination. The little girl begins to quiet down as you lift her up so she can stuff her head into your neck.

From across the room Kiyoomi watches you calm the baby with a red face. How are you so good at this? He's never seen you with a baby and from what he knows your not an aunt of any sort, unless you count Atsumu's dogs. He finally lets out a small smile as he watches you bring the baby up so she can snuggle into your neck, but as if the gods are against him. You turn around to see him watching you, and you tell the baby with a slight smirk, "baby I think your uncle Kiy wants to apologize," you walk over still holding the baby like a natural. Finally setting her down to crawl over to him on the couch. The older man trys to hold the baby like a puppy. He's never done this before and he's never felt embarrassed in his life. You giggle softly at his nervous face and tell him, "Kiyoomi that's not how you hold a baby," he can barely focus on your words when your giggles are enough for him to worship the group you walk on. He swears he enters heaven the moment he hears that sound. "it's good that your holding her butt but i think she wants to be facing you," You say as you scoot closer and reach to try and show him the proper way.

Kiyoomi leaned back on the couch and attempted to correctly hold the baby on his chest. One hand on her back and the other holding her butt up. As if Kiyoomi was a sleeping pill the little girl immediately closed her eyes and fell asleep on the tall man. "see it's not hard. Do you wanna take her to her momma? She seems sleepy," you said with small smile on your face. Not forgetting the little boy playing behind the couch you glanced over to make sure he was okay. God, Kiyoomi could help but want to ask if you wanted to be a mom right now.

Unmoving Kiyoomi stiffly shakes his head no at the though of having to hold this baby while moving. You srunch your eyebrows together in thought trying to understand why he's so stiff. noticing your confusion he squeaks out, "What if I break her?" and at first you thought he was joking but there was genuine panic in his features. He thought he was this cool collected guy, but you could honestly read him like a book.

"i'll be right here, okay? You're not going to break her," You nodded your head while you spoke to him in the calmest voice you could muster. Slowly he stood up and you redirected his hand so that it held up some of her head too along with her back. "you need to keep her head up. Baby's head's are weak," he nodded his head at your words like they were the gospel. Anything you said he would take it as the truth. If you said it, it was right. Cautiously walking up the steps to the family room. His whole family seems shocked to see the large man holding such a delicate baby. He takes a deep breath while he tries to pass the sleeping girl to his sister.

"whoa, what did you do to her? She never sleeps this heavy." His sister said in shock, "Kiyoomi you need to hold her more often," she continued. Then did you finally take in how red his face was. He was so flustered it was adorable. Quickly you took your phone out and snapped a picture of the boy without his knowledge.

bonus:

It was late and about everyone at the gathering had left except for Kiyoomi's immediate family. The baby girl was back in your and Kiyoomi's lap trying to decide who she wants to get attention from. You and Kiyoomi were shoulder to shoulder and at one point he brought his arm over to hold you even closer. After falling a few times on Kiyoomi and then gripping his shirt like a life line the little girl turned and crawled into your lap. You let a small Ha at Kiyoomi for her ultimately choosing you, but you take it back once the little girl tried pulling the top of you dress down to get to your boob. Kiyoomi quickly grabs the little girl and she starts crying sad that she didn't get fed. If you heard correctly you swore you heard him tell the little one that you would have milk soon but not now.

[shakingparadigm]

I'm really enjoying these new glimpses of Till where he seems rather calm? Naturally he still has big feelings and expresses them accordingly, but compared to past instances it's a lot less explosive.

Most of Ivan and Till's fights seem to happen when they're younger. This is most likely because they weren't familiar with each other yet and were still at the age where most things were taken at face value. They're still getting used to each other's "strangeness", and that could be the cause for certain misunderstandings.

By the time Ivan started developing his "attractive" persona, he was much more aware of what made Till tick. Instead of toning down on his behavior, he used it to his advantage.

Throughout childhood, all Ivan knew was that if he performed certain actions he would get a response from Till (whether he intended it or not). Their shenanigans were incredibly childish, but they made a prominent impact on Ivan's perspective. His thoughts gradually transitioned from "I didn't know" to "oh. this is what I need to do so that Till will notice me."

Despite maturing a great amount and presenting a princely image to everyone else, Ivan never grew up when it came to Till. He continued to apply the same tactics from childhood just to keep Till's attention.

This is why the Anakt Diaries mention that though Ivan is mature for his age, he acts childishly when he's with Till. It's what he knows best.

As they grew older, they both became more fine-tuned to certain aspects regarding each other. Ivan understood what would get a rise out of Till and began messing with him on purpose, hoping to get a reaction. Unfortunately for him, Till started getting used to it (for the most part).

Despite his rebelliousness and bold expression, Till is timid when it comes to people. He only attacks when provoked, and unfortunately for someone as sensitive as him, that's quite often. Ivan took great joy in poking and prodding at him until they resorted to pulling hairs.

However, an older Till seems much less inclined to attack a pestering Ivan. In fact, he seems to brush it off suprisingly well. Of course he reacts, but he no longer reacts violently.

He goes back to a neutral (probably mildly annoyed, definitely weirded out) state almost immediately afterwards. The important part is that no hands are thrown. At this point, it's been years of Ivan and Till knowing each other. Till has watched Ivan grow from this gloomy little boy to the literal "Prince Charming" of Anakt, yet one thing has always remained the same: Ivan stayed by his side. Whether they like it or not, being close for so long will eventually endear someone to another. Thanks to the Ivan Exposure Therapy (and probably a bit of his own growing maturity), Till isn't so phased by Ivan's antics anymore. At the very least he seems to reply instead of taking full offense, poking fun at Ivan's lack of a birthday instead of just saying no. Older Till seems less irritated and more like he's just exasperated. Familiar, accustomed to Ivan's presence.

@geospiral already made a great post about what Ivan's side of this whole development might have been like. It's really interesting, so I recommend checking it out!

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Little Bride

daemon x niece!reader smut

A/N: based on a request here! also i don't understand high valyrian conjugation so kepa just means father in every time it's used

TW: smut!!, incest, DUBCON, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, spanking, exhibitionism because of under the table shenanigans

word count: 1,563 words

You haven’t seen Daemon since you were seven years old and you’ve missed him deeply. Everyone says that he hates Alicent Hightower’s children but he always said you had the true blood of the dragon running in your veins. You were always his favourite but it’s been over a decade since his latest exile and you most definitely aren’t a little girl anymore.

“Zaldrīzes riña.” (dragon girl) You hear from behind you as you make your way to your chambers. Only one person calls you that.

“Kepus?” You say as you turn around and squeal when you lay eyes on him. You run down the hallway and throw your arms around his shoulders before blushing when you realize how unladylike your actions are. You slowly remove yourself from him. “Sorry.” You say timidly. He laughs.

“Don’t be. I don’t remember the last time someone was so thrilled to see me.” His eyes take in the sight of you but you don’t notice the predatory nature of his gaze. “You’ve grown, little girl.”

“That’s what happens when you are away for so long.” You say petulantly. He chuckles and looks over you. His eyes fixate on the swell of your breasts. He seems like he may say something when he’s interrupted.

“Should you not be preparing for supper, daughter?” The voice of the Queen rings out as she shoots the filthiest glare at your uncle. Your mother hates Daemon.

“Of course, your Grace.” You say and curtsey before running off, shooting your uncle a passing smile.

“I'll see you at supper then, zaldrīzes riña.” Daemon calls out after you. He looks to your mother. “Hello, Alicent. You’re looking well.” He says with a wolfish grin and makes himself busy with greeting another noble before the Queen can retort.

~~~

When you arrive to the family dinner that night, Daemon has saved a spot next to him for you, much to your mothers dismay. You take it eagerly.

“Glad to have you home, brother.” The King says as he raises his cup and you all follow in suit, toasting to Daemon’s return.

The room falls into steady conversation, steady enough for people to not notice when

Daemon whispers things in your ear that make you blush.

“This is a very pretty dress, niece.” He says as he plays with the collar of the gown. His hand begins to trail down it. “Very expensive fabric.” The roaming hand decides on its destination being your upper thigh.

“T-Thank you.” You say with a light smile as he turns his attention elsewhere, talking to your father about things that you don’t understand.

After a few moments, the hand on your thigh begins to move. You sigh in relief, hoping he will take it off and relieve you of the warm feeling in your tummy but that isn’t what happens. Your uncle’s hand moves discreetly to the hem of your skirts, and to your dismay, he begins to lift them. You give him a pleading and confused look, not really sure what’s happening but he doesn’t even look at you as he seems to be fully focused on his conversation with your father.

You take a sip of wine, trying to distract yourself, but it only causes you to choke as you feel his fingers ghost over your smallclothes.

“Are you alright?” Daemon says in a faux-concerned tone as you cough. You only manage to nod in response before he goes back to ignoring you.

He slips his fingers to the side of your undergarments and pushes them to the side so he can feel how wet you are. You could swear you see a slight smile twinge at his lips. You try not to look at him, or anybody, as you feel his two fingers slip inside of you. You hope you don’t give anything away with your face as you reach down to clutch his hand, trying to pull it away, to make him stop, but it’s to no avail. Your attempts are almost pathetic with how little they do to faze him.

The whole scene of it is filthy, Daemon talking politics with his brother as his fingers pump in and out of his virgin niece’s soaked cunny right next to him, her father right across the table from the two of them. One look at the princesses face could have them both found out as she tries not to squirm in her seat.

You feel yourself edging closer to your peak but it never comes. You’re humiliated by the whole act of it but you feel needy for him when he pulls his hand away. You hold in a visible reaction even though it seems that Daemon wouldn’t know the difference as he acts like he never even touched you.

For the rest of dinner, you’re unfocused. Aemond tries to make conversation with you but you can’t do much more than nod and give short answers. You’re very much in disbelief that you hardly realize when supper has ended. Your brothers and sister leave quickly. Your mother left early with your father because of his sickness. You’re left alone with your dear uncle and some servants.

“Leave us.” Daemon says and the servants scurry out of the room.

Your uncle stalks over to you and you keep inching away until you hit the table. He towers over you. You still feel like a child next to him.

“Kepus.” You try to speak sternly. “What you did was wrong and you shall not do anything like it again.”

“If it was wrong then why did you like it so much?” He looks you in the eyes as he grabs your chin and tilts it up.

“It was terribly improper.”

“Hmm. I think you liked the attention. Daddy never gives you any, does he? And mommy is too focused on her problem child.” He says condescendingly.

The hand that doesn’t hold your chin goes to your waist. He traces up and down… the curve of your hips… of your breasts.

“I’m a princess. I get more than enough attention.” You say petulantly but your voice wavers.

“Then why haven’t you pushed me off?” He asks and you immediately try to push him away… pathetically. It’s little effort for him to turn you around and bend you over the table with your hands pinned behind you. “Dumb girl. Look at your trying to put up a fight. It’s not nice to deny kepa.” Kepa, he says, not kepus.

“Get off of me!” You try to squirm under his grasp.

“What happened to the girl a few hours ago who was so excited to see me?” He teases as he begins to use one hand to hike up your skirts.

“Kepa-... kepus, stop now!” You cringe when you call him the name he just referred to himself as.

“Aww so you like calling me that. You want daddy to take care of you.” He gets your skirts to your waist and you feel the cold air when he tugs your smallclothes.

“No, kepusss.” You whine at him and squeal when his hand slaps your ass.

“That’s not what you’re meant to call me, baby. And you need to be quiet, don’t want the guards outside to hear when i’m pounding the little princesses cunny, do we?”

“But… kepa i-i’m meant to save myself for my husband.” You say when you feel something long and hard rubbing between your thighs. His hand snakes around and he shoves two fingers in your mouth.

“Good, then i’ll get to bloody my cock with your maidenhead.” He says simply before shoving himself inside, the fingers in your mouth barely muting your scream. “That’s it, just take it and suck on kepa’s fingers like a little baby.” He says as he keeps bullying his cock inside of you. “Gods, you’re so fucking tight.” He lays another smack on your ass. “I’m gonna put a baby in you, make you mine.”

“Mmm.” You moan around his fingers, starting to realize that you enjoy the treatment once the pain has somewhat faded. He fucks into you as hard as he can, making you see stars.

“I’ll make you my wife and i’ll eat this little cunny every night, have you screaming and begging for me as you cry.” His hands grip your hips roughly and you can feel the formation of bruises coming on. He lets go only for a second so he can spank your ass a few more times because he just loves how you whimper.

You feel him finally start to slow and the deep, lasting thrusts are what sends you over the edge. You have never came so hard as you squeeze around him and feel yourself tense up. He fucks you through your high before spilling his seed deep inside you.

“Fuck.” He says as he takes his fingers out of your mouth.

You still feel molded to the shape of his cock even once he’s pulled himself out.

He wipes your drool away in an almost loving way and then helps you turn around so you can sit on the table. He situates himself between your thighs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You did so well, zaldrīzes riña.” He presses a few more kisses to your face and you blush at the tender action. “You’ll make a perfect bride.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

[sukunasweetheart]

actor!sukuna!!!

warnings; fem reader, jjk manga spoilers, a bit of both submissive and dominant sukuna, and also sukuna who loves his domineering wife a little too much, smut and fluff at the end, breeding, choking, use of collar and leash (on sukuna), rough sex, lots of teasing and provoking

i really really adore the trope where actors who play utterly vile, evil villain roles all the time simply bc of their intimidating appearance but their real personality is rather sweet and gentle, and i desperately want to apply this to sukuna. they would've probably needed to cast a whole different man for his trueform, which is what inspired this idea <3<3

actor!sukuna is oh so very notorious for his antagonistic roles, always always being the charismatic, devilish character in any film, tv series or dramas he's casted in, the ones that always somehow has the upper hand, who never shows care for anyone else, who always seems to have control over everything in all situations he's put into...

and the recent hit series 'jujutsu kaisen' is exactly the same. with him being the king of curses, having those extra cgi arms and tummy mouth and having to spend hours before shooting simply doing the makeup for the distorted side of his face. not to mention all those tattoos!

actor!sukuna, who loves his job, but sometimes gets exhausted by the kinds of roles he has to play. he's gotten so used to it, his normal facial expressions and mannerisms also may have changed a little because at times he gets himself too immersed into his character

and you might say fiction doesnt cross over to real life at the best of times, but for sukuna, it might not be the case... he's noticed over the years that people around him do truly get scared or intimidated by him. and like any celebrity, he has his own fair share of haters.

with his character's newest victim being the fans' beloved gojo satoru, it only aggravated them-- and he knew from the moment he read the script that he was going to get flamed for it. he's used to this but because of jjk's intense popularity, he actually gets a little concerned this time around...

thankfully, thankfully! he has a wife he can run home to and seek comfort from, and fully let go of this fictional persona of his.

actor!sukuna, who is often burdened with the unconscious expectations from others, to have his intimidating aura and always have control over situations (maybe sometimes people)...

but he is able to put all of this down in front of you and just lay in your lap in front of the tv as you play with his pink curls.

oh, he's so grateful for his wife, who fulfills his hidden desires... his wife, who didn't see him only by his villainous roles, but also took notice of his gentler side and decided to grab hold onto that part of him with an iron grip instead.

actor!sukuna may be a man well over two metres tall, with a resting bitch face and a deep, velvety voice perfect for being a natural dominant and aggressive lover-- which, sometimes he is of course, when the situation calls for it (whenever you feel like you want to be dominated) - but in actuality, he aches to be controlled for the most part, rather than the one controlling...

when he told you about his worries of his real life reputation, of how people on set seem to avoid him subtly, and get a bit over-polite with him, you sent a handful of extravagant food and drink trucks over to the shooting set in sukuna's name, raising the spirits of his colleagues, the camera and film crew members etc., and of course, sukuna himself.

and everytime he has any complaints about his job, you comfort him by saying that if he ever feels like it's too much, he can quit anytime he wants, because you'd be happy to be him support financially as long as he'd be your househusband *wink wink*

actor!sukuna laughs at the thought, but there are times where he seriously considers it... he is getting older, and sometimes doing all these action scenes as the villain is taxing on his body... (perhaps after jjk is over, he'll take a well deserved, long break from his career for a little while)

before getting married, from the moment sukuna first interacted with you, he was already hooked- you flirted with him openly without expecting him to take lead, and you talked less about his various identities in his shows, but showed more curiosity in his true self, and he was simply attracted to your... fearlessness?

and a part of him tried to fight against it too, but you were simply too charismatic. (it only charmed him more)

"you're an awfully cocky woman. you sure you can take me on?"

"take you on? oh, no, handsome. you'll be the one taking me on. i'll have you wrung out dry by the end of this week... if you'll let me, of course."

and that, he did.

fast forward to the present.

sukuna had come home without erasing all the makeup from his filming of jjk, to your curiosity...

"the king of curses, was it? the name of this character," you ask with a relaxed voice, watching as sukuna's large cock throbs between his legs, drooling precum messily into his boxers. ironically, you're the one lying against your back on the bed, with him hovering over your body longingly, but not being permitted to touch you... yet.

you'd put a collar around his neck. and you have him leashed, with the rope being in your hand. he has you between his arms that are supporting his body weight... muscles flexing and sweat dripping down his skin from his own arousal.... he was supposed to be tired from today's filming session but right now, his whole body is heating up like boiling water in a kettle. how cruel of you to do this to him, right after he gets home from work.

you loop the rope around your fingers once, and tug on the leash harshly, making his face shift closer to yours.

"i'd like to hear an answer, please."

"...yes, the king of curses," sukuna hisses, eyeing the leash that both turns him on and also pisses him off simultaneously.

"interesting..." you hum with a smile, gently touching the fabricated side of his face that's been made with make up.

"i do have to say, the tattoos and black nails fit you so well, my love."

sukuna remains silent as he resists the urge to kiss you, with your lips hovering so close to his.

"don't fuck me with your eyes, honey. you're making yourself too obivous," you tease, ghosting your fingers over his chest, touching him languidly. his dick swells even more.

"darling, please... i need to touch you," sukuna says, softspoken and yearning so hard it makes him dizzy.

"oh... i love when you beg like that. what would your fans think, if they saw their most cold-blooded villain pleading me like this?"

with a collar and leash on, no less.

"it wouldn't matter what they think. you're the only one i love," he responds, shuddering as you nudge your knee against the erection in his pants.

"i like that answer."

you kiss him, which is an act that means you're permitting him to finally lay his hands on you - and this breaks the restraint he'd been holding onto until now.

sukuna kisses you back with a throaty growl, slipping his tongue in to smother you with, as your lips are curled up into a pleased smile. drunk on the taste of you, he doesn't stop kissing until he's had his fill. both of you are breathing heavily when he finally pulls away, his face being flushed beautifully.

large hands come to tug away at your clothes, exposing the swell of your chest, and he clamps his lips around one of your nipples, like a man starving... you gasp, and tug at his soft hair from the back, the other hand still gripping onto the rope that connects with his collar.

you arch your back when he nips on them a little, earning him a hiss from you and another harsh tug at his leash. when he comes up to face you once again, he's wearing a smirk with foggy eyes, satisfied with this small payback.

once he finally comes around to releasing his strained cock, he gives a sigh of relief. the tip is glistening with his precum, and he wants to be buried in your cunt so bad. he slides it in with one go.

"oof, always so big, aren't you?" you tell him, feeling his throbbing dick reach so deep inside. it's not your first time saying such a thing, so he knows you mean it as a compliment. it inflates his ego.

"fuck- you feel so good," he mumbles mindlessly, pushing your thighs back.

sukuna begins to thrust into you, his heavy balls slapping down against your ass as he starts with a slow pace. another tug of his leash gets him to stop again.

"c'mon, love. is that all you can do?" you urge him, your grip still strong on his rope. he narrows his eyes, and pushes your thighs back harder, and begins to slam his hips into you, the way you love it.

"f-fuck... harder, sukuna... harder-" you moan as you keep taunting him with several pulls of his leash.

"tug that thing one more time..." he mutters with a low, out of breath voice, "and i'll make you regret it."

you love it when he's submissive, but even more so when he's in the mood to put his foot down. but you're not giving in so easily. you give it another tug, playfully.

"try me."

from then on, he snaps and decides he'll give you your own "collar".

his hand.

you squeal in delight as he roughs you up from his grip on your throat, to the biting, and to the bruising pace of his thrusts, all harmonising to bring you to your orgasm...

when sukuna cums, he does so right against your cervix, spilling all his thick, hot seed into your womb, with a loud groan. he's sucking a hickey onto your shoulder as he does so, full body shuddering with each clench of his balls as he dumps more into you. your pussy squeezes around him, fingernails digging deeply into his muscled back, feeling blissful.

he soon collapses onto you, and you start playing with his hair again, as he rests momentarily, being spent after the rough sex that happened when he'd just come back home. you'll need to reward him later for this.

in the bathroom, you help him scrub away all those tattoos, and tear off that falsified right side of his face. he appreciates this, especially the ones on his back that are difficult to reach. in the tub, you sit between his legs, and lean back as he dotes on you, calloused hands not leaving anywhere of you untouched.

once the bathing is finished, you do his nightly skin care routine for him. an actor's gotta preserve their skin, you know. before the moisturizer though, you press a soft kiss onto his pure face, clean of tattoos, and hum with a pleased expression.

"i love this one more, after all."

he huffs out a chuckle and pulls you onto his lap.

"hah. the king of curses ought to cry real tears with envy."

he clings onto you all night, face buried into your chest, indulging in the feeling of being the little spoon.

Masterlist

Tagging: @yuujispinkhair and @gojos-thot-patrol (who encouraged the leash idea...)

credit and link to the cute heart dividers here

[superhero--imagines]

Being Sanji’s GF would include:

A/N: this is the ugliest banner I ever made I swear.

Tags: Female reader

* A man that is 6 ft +, can cook, and treats you with respect? I can’t believe we as a society weren’t simping for him before

* We already know that he loves pretty girls, so if you reciprocate his advances—he’s down hook, line, and sinker

* I feel like he’d fall hard and fast for someone a bit shy, with a soft form of kindness

* Sanji himself is so kind, even if it’s in these extremes depending on the gender of the recipient

* So seeing someone who kindness comes to so naturally, where it isn’t a flickering flame or a bright fire, but just a soft warmth that linger in all of their actions leaves him in awe

* “You’re amazing.”

* He’s still got a wandering eye though, so catch him randomly slapping himself or sitting with his face in his hands as he tries to restrain himself from ‘being unfaithful’

* “Hey Sanji?”

* “Hmmm.”

* “Have you ever thought about cheating on me?”

* The dishes he was washing clatters in the sink and he grabs your hand in both of his, kneeling in front of you

* “Never!” And he means it, he might look but he would never dream of being with someone other than you. “You’re the only person I want to be with.”

* I think as time goes on he gets a lot better at understanding why he feels the way he does, and eventually the flirtatious behavior cools down even though he’s still as kind as always because he realizes it comes from a place of craving validation instead of genuine love

* And honestly, now that he has you he doesn’t need it from anyone else anymore

* “(Y/N)-chan, can you get me the oregano?”

* You smile as you get it from the fridge, it’s not easy for him to ask you to do things

* He has the biggest goofiest grin on his face when you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his shoulder

* Sanji would literally give you a romance as big as the world — or he’d try to at least

* “Sanji this is really lovely.” And you mean it, the candle lit dinner and all your favorite foods at the center of the deck

* “But um, I feel a little bad for Luffy.” It’s more than a little, there’s an entire waterfall of drool falling past his lips from his spot behind a pillar.

* His fingers curl under your chin, urging you to meet his gaze

* “There’s nothing to feel bad about, of course I would spoil the most important person in my life.”

* Your cheeks heat up from the words.

* “But Sanji—“ you look to the pillar seeing seven faces quickly duck, and a hand grab luffys still salivating head. “—they’re all staring!”

* If you could die from embarrassment you’d be six feet under

* “Let them stare, it’s because they’re dazzled by your beauty.”

* “Actually it’s because we’re hungry!” Luffy shouts, only to have his mouth covered by Nami.

* Sanji ends up making them a snack.

* His favorite hobby is pretending Chopper is your child when you guys go out

* “When are you guys going to stop pretending he’s your baby?” Zoro growls

* You look over at Chopper who’s happily sitting on Sanji’s shoulders, munching away on cotton candy

* “When he stops pretending to enjoy it,” You respond

* “That’s never going to happen!” Chopper shouts with a giggle

* He’s so greedy with you I swear

* You give him a kiss, he gives you back at least five

* You hold his hand, he keeps you glued to his side for the rest of the night

* “I know it’s ugly of me to get an inch and take a mile, but…around you I just can’t keep myself from trying.”

* He learns how to make all your favorite childhood foods, either from a relative or by studying old recipe books from your homeland

* And if you ever seem homesick or you’re feeling down he’ll suspense you with the dish

* “How did you learn to make this?” Your region is a far ways away from his usual French cuisine

* “I have my secrets.”

* Please cook for this man, just once, make a fancy dinner and have the whole crew pitch in as wait staff

* “You’re always taking care of us so this time we wanted to serve you!”

* He’ll eat half-burned pasta with tears of joy streaming down his face

* “This is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

* He’ll fall even harder for you if you have his wanted poster near your bunk bed

* “There’s a little red stain near my lips though—“

* “Ah, sometimes when I can’t see you at night I give it a little kiss for luck haha.”

* He’s dead. Sanjis dead.

* Cause of death: love sickness

* He died happy though

* He’s just such a simp for you man

* Like, take the shirt off his back and lay it over a puddle so you don’t get your feet wet, hear you’re craving a certain type of food and make it the next meal, buys you feminine hygiene products from the store with pride (along with some snacks he knows you like, kiss your hands and worship the ground you walk on type of love.

* Honestly what a dream

A/N: kinda wanna make a nsfw version too.

[jacevelaryonswife]

The way that you move

It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader

warnings: porn with 10% of plot. p in v sex. english is not my first language. 1,1k.

Even if it’s recent, your marriage to Prince Jacaerys was very promising and pleasant due to the commitment employed by both parts. Your husband was very polite, good-natured and kind, and you strove to be the proper and loving lady wife that Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir needed. In addition, the engagement period was charming and prepared the ground for a young and happy union, much better than most of the weddings of the other court ladies in all aspects. Or almost all because unfortunately not everything was flowers. The subject in question referred to the misfortune moment of bed that tormented you and your husband.

Neither of you had experience, which made it a little traumatic for both of you, especially painful for you but quite fast too, proving to be a great relief (not crookedly for Jace). Throughout the act the prince remained redder than a ripe tomato and hated several aspects that were part of that situation, the first was not being able to reverse the pain you felt, because he didn’t know the female body to bring some relief to his good wife and because it ended up faster than dornish wine in celebrations. The precocity wasn’t at all bad for the situation, but it wasn’t exactly the virtue that a man should be proud of — but it served to your beautiful face was no longer dented with discomfort.

He apologized vehemently after that and assured that he didn't want to hurt you and that you didn't need to do it again without wanting to, a really sweet gesture that had you waving to him and ensuring that everything was fine. “My mother said the first contacts are painful for the chaste ladies,” you said. And in fact it was terribly uncomfortable, until last night...

Gods, what was that? It was the best physical feeling you felt in your life and it seemed so profane to admit it while letting pleasurable sounds escape your throat. It was so good! And that was the problem!

How should you approach your husband about repeating that night? It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting, so your only mission that day was to find a demure way to ask your sweet Jace to make you come as your friends had instructed. What a scandal! There was no way to say this out loud, not even other ways to approach the topic seemed decent! Everything seemed like a complete disaster until the moon emerged and the inhabitants of Dragonstone gathered in your chambers, just like your husband and you.

The thick sheet that wrapped your body was responsible for hiding most of the bold and light blue lacy dress you wore, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the watchful eye of Prince Jacaerys, especially when he joined you in bed. That was the ideal moment to execute your plan in the urgency of the last minutes, which consisted solely of action.

"Jace, husband, can I kiss you?" You tried to contain the anxiety of what you wanted to happen next by leaning over it gently.

“Of course you can, my love,” he smiled sweetly and his beautiful brown eyes shone with tenderness. He was so adorable.

After many attempts (some slow and others sloppy) you understood a part of the mechanics of kisses and began to appreciate and perform the art often. His full and terribly soft lips were pressed so pleasantly against yours in the initially chaste kiss, who became sensual and lustful thanks to your desire. Oh, you couldn't wait any longer.

Climbing on his hips, you interrupted the kiss to face those beautiful brown eyes. "I want to do what we did last night."

“D-do you, my lady?” He asked surprised, "do you really want to?"

“Yes, husband,” you purred and kissed him deliciously again, playing with his tongue as you moved your intimacy dressed over his groin, making you both sigh. “I want it now,” you said during the kiss, sitting in the center of his body to remove the dress and expose your naked body.

The poor prince followed the whole situation astonished, stunned by his newly existing disinhibition but not a little dissatisfied (just worried). "M-my lady, shouldn't we wait until you're ready?"

“I'm already, my prince, I've been ready since the first rays of sunshine,” you knew what he was referring to and learned from the other ladies that the moisture between the thighs was a positive indication. And you've been uncomfortable wet since you woke up. "Do you want that?"

“I do,” he nodded hypnotized, holding his soft hips to squeeze the flesh gently.

It was not secret that the prince has never been with a woman before and the fact never bothered him, but he would like to have experience to properly satisfy his wife in pleasure meetings. He quickly flipped through a book on the subject as his cheeks warmed up and his limb hardened shamefully. After that he tried to remember some information to use at the moment, such as knowing that women needed time and a certain humidity so that they could feel pleasure, however, almost all reasoning was lost when your hands released his masculinity and involved him. He grunted low in response, breathing hard to prepare for the- Seven heavens!

You sank deliciously into the thick and soft shaft, ecstatic by the indiscriminate sensation of being filled. There was no way for something so good to be considered depravity, no, it was totally adequate, it was so right to jump freely on the cock of your charming Jacaerys and enjoy what he had to offer. The prince was so confused, drunk and excited by the way everything happened that he was dazzled by the beast that mounted him ardently. If in the previous times he made an effort not to end quickly, this time he was begging the seven heavens for the moment to last.

“Take off your tunic, my love, I want to see you,” you said between sighs, moving up and down constantly, moaning shamelessly.

He did what was asked, sitting in bed with you on your lap just to kiss you fervently and pull you down with him, moving your hips with yours. The gesture was much appreciated when his legs got tired of doing all the hard work, limiting himself to rubbing against his groin while he repeated the action, the constant and strong friction.

“Wait! Wait! I need some time... I-I want this to last,” he said between heavy breaths, almost begging.

"Right, right."

— "It's hard to describe, it's intense, hot and your whole body shudders at the sensation. It's probably the best thing you'll feel in your life."

Your friend Belinda's explanation of the apex of female pleasure returned to surrounding your mind again, making you yearn to discover such a sensation. It was torturous to accommodate your husband inside and not be able not to move your hips, even though it was for good reason. And he, well, he was almost exploding with pleasure.

Jace pulled you for an excited and demanding kiss, very different from the ones you used to share but just as good. Good? No, better. His tongue touched yours in a different and sloppy way, which would strumble you

The prince wasn’t blind about women but never dared to give himself to a pleasure before the wedding — he was less man for that. He thought he wouldn’t be so affected by carnal pleasure, but he could not deny that the attraction he felt for his beautiful wife increased every day and each time you lay down together. He longed for it more quietly.

“Keep going, my love,” he held your buttocks when you remained in the same position, moving your hips experimentally to keep up with your pace.

“Yes, husband,” you sighed numb, kissing him again as you moved sloppyly, dragging your hips against his groin. Gods, how good it was.

Although he was loving the position he was in, Jace felt a sudden urge to cage your body against the bed, so he turned you lovingly to take control and pushed your hips against his at a constant pace that stole the air from both of you. The thought that happened in your head was indecent, but it was the complete reality of the situation. It wasn't love made between you and your husband, no, you were fucking with all the lust there was.

He rested his face on your neck as he hit you deeply, the delicious and maddening friction building a euphoria in your unknown stomach and making your walls squeeze madly. “Jace!” You moaned loudly, scratching his back as you held him more between your legs. “Oh! Jace!” Your sight turned white and your whole body spasmed on bed, the most wonderful feeling in the world numbing your senses.

That was too much for him. Both the grip around his cock, as well as your sounds, as well as the call by his name and his own limit sent him to the apex in the blink of an eye, grunting in your ear in such a sensual and deep way that it made you squeeze even more. For the seven, what had just happened?

Such pleasure from such indecency made him hot, confused and red like wine. Your breaths were heavy and agitated, stabilizing slowly and silently on the soft bed as you sighed satisfied with what had just happened. "So that's how it feel? Now I understand why some people indulge in promiscuity," you commented in a good mood, feeling your body return to normal. "We will do this more often, yes, husband?"

Who was he to deny your request? (Especially on the content of the request).

"Of course, my lady." Yes, your husband was perfect.

═════════════════════

taglist

general: @valeskafics @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

jace velaryon: @howyouloveyourdragon

[mire1li]

Reader as Alastor's Mother part 2

Part 1!, Part 3!

𓋼 You would absolutely decorate his microphone with a bunch of ribbons you found!

And he would absolutely allow it in fear of upsetting you, although he began to take them off later on when he had to leave, but seeing you get sad at his actions changed his mind… It did not help that the ribbons were glittery.

“Oh look, Sparkles got sparklier!” Angel had said when Alastor was passing by.

𓋼 He wants you to be happy but don't even try having feelings for anyone in hell, they'll most likely 'disappear under mysterious circumstances' and then you'll just so happen to hear their screams on Alastor's radio broadcast <3

Lucifer tries to flirt everytime he sees you outside (or once he comes back to see the hotel which… would be 'some' time later…) But it's not long before Alastor shows up bcs he has a shadow follow you everywhere

“My mother certainly would not want someone so… ancient…”

“are you trying to make me sound like a fossil?”

“Maybe~ I can’t say for sure though!”

"Y'know, I've stolen wives before… maybe it's time to steal a mother instead!"

"I'm going to fucking kill you"

𓋼 Lucifer would play silly games with you and bring you gifts by leaving them at the hotel’s doorstep, although you never received any (like he thought you did) because Alastor would always take them before you saw them. Or he would make them his own to give to you if you were having a worse day than usual!

“Mother, I had noticed that you weren’t feeling all too great so I brought you a wonderful gift!”

“Oh, thank you, darling!”

Your mood always brightened when he gave you these gifts. 𓋼 One time when Lucifer visited the hotel, he went straight to you to ask you about how you liked the gifts.

"[Name]! Hello, deer, how are you? Did you like the gifts that I left you?"

"Hello Luci, I'm fine, thank you! … Gifts? what gifts?"

"The ones… that I left on the doorstep of the hotel!"

"I dont recall seeing any gifts there… but Alastor recently started leaving the hotel more often! Not for very long though…"

And then Lucifer realised. You never received his gifts because Alastor got to them first! After that, he made sure to put a note with his signature on them. Though, that still didn't deter Alastor, to Lucifer's dismay.

𓋼 One time, Angel returned to the hotel at an unreasonably late hour, so you went to make sure everything was alright.

"Are you alright, Angel?"

"Huh? No, I'm totally fucked!"

"Why? What happened?"

"You know Valentino right? My boss?"

"Of course I do, everyone hates him quite a bit here and you always talk about him"

"Right, well, fuckin' Val made me work an extra 10 hours!"

"He what?!"

"Yeah! Absolute bitch move."

Naturally, Alastor was watching and listening to you two so you turned to him, with quite the menacing look in your eyes.

"Oh Alastor, prepare your radio broadcast!~"

𓋼 You noticed that most of the residents of the hotel all came to you for advice quite often (except Niffty, she's just an entirely different entity)

"It seems they have become quite fond of you, Mother"

"They have, haven't they?"

Alastor's expression was always one of annoyance whenever someone came to you for help. He wouldn't dare admit it, but he was most certainly jealous of anyone who even stood too close to you, let alone talked to you.

𓋼 Because of that one time that Alastor stood right next to Charlie to spite Lucifer, Lucifer decided to stand just that close to you to get back at him.

"An eye for an eye, Mr Radio!"

"I recommend you watch yourself."

𓋼 One time, when you were out of the hotel and walking around Hell with Alastor, Vox just so happened to see you on one of his tv screens, Valentino sitting by him, messaging someone.

"Hey Val, who the fuck is that with that old-timey prick?"

"Hm? No clue."

"You didn't even look, fuckhead"

"How would you know? You're too busy eyefucking Alastor."

"I am not"

"She's probably just another one of those redemption hotel idiots. It doesn't matter"

But Vox still just glared at the screen.

𓋼 Vox continued to keep an eye on you, seeing just how wonderful you are and so when you were outside the hotel alone (or so he thought) he went up to you. Somehow he didn't catch onto the fact that you're Alastor's mother.

"Hello-"

"What do you think you're doing?" Alastor, of course, suddenly appeared out of thin air, standing in between you and Vox, with an even more annoyed smile than usual.

"Alastor, is this another one of your friends?"

"No-"

"Yes, absolutely, ma'am. Great friends, in fact!"

"Ha! Well, you see, this is my Mother."

"Your what?"

Yeah, Alastor simply walked away with you whilst Vox was buffering.

𓋼 Vox constantly tried to talk to you alone but Alastor was always there to stop him, so unfortunate.

"Would you stay away from my Mother, you-! Ahem, my apologies, Mother."

"Hah! Your mother? I think you meant our mother!"

𓋼 Alastor would absolutely cover your ears when swearing at, or insulting, anyone.

𓋼 When you first met Valentino, you were so mad at him on Angel's behalf that you knocked him out and brought him back to the hotel with you. Of course, Vox was there with Val but he was like a lost duckling, just slowly trailing behind you, unsure what to do.

"I'm back!"

"What the fuck did you do??" Angel was lying down on the couch when you entered, dragging the unconcious Valentino behind you.

"A favour to you and hell!"

"No, but how?!"

"That's a secret~"

"Ok… so why'd ya bring him here?"

"Redemption"

𓋼 Back to Lucifer! He would tell you random animal facts to try and impress you! He would also unironically ask around, and search up (if necessary), how to impress a woman.

𓋼 Lucifer would suddenly start playing the violin for everyone in the hotel 'for everyones' entertainment' as he called it. (It was meant for you though). Each time Lucifer did this, Alastor told you that something important happened that required your attention. You always stayed for the beginning though.

𓋼 One day, you were baking cookies and you and Alastor left the kitchen for a while whilst they were in the oven, however, you both somehow managed to forget about them… so when the smoke alarm suddenly rang, you ran into the kitchen, everyone wondering what happened.

"Fuck!"

"Language, Mother."

"Don't you 'language' me, young man!"

𓋼 You redecorated his room. He wasn't a fan of all the new colours, but he still appreciated the gesture. (There was a lot of glitter involved)

𓋼 After a while of you staying there, everyone definitely sees you as a mother figure (Alastor didn't appreciate this much either but he's willing to look past it for his friends)

𓋼 As small gifts, you made everyone items that resemble them and filled them with different colours of glitter and paper that remind you of them. Bonus: Behind the scenes! 1. Yuri's bad timing:

2. Vox and Val:

[bouncybongfairy]

I really loved reading your Zuko Freezer Burn fic! I wanted to request one where Zuko doesn't believe reader could ever love him until she risks her life to save him. Smut in the end is appreciated

Believe Me Now?

Prince Zuko x Fem Reader

Summary: After narrowly missing getting a scar to match Zuko's after he nearly engulfed the ship, the two of you have a heart to heart. Both of you letting your feelings and insecurities known. The sudden flood of vulnerability and reassurance leads to things getting intense.

Word Count: 1.0k+

TW: Smut.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Zuko was currently in a private meeting with Iroh, trying to calculate the best route for the latest lead on the Avatar. You were sitting in the room the two of you shared on the ship. Cleaning the room, folding clothes among other things.​​ Even though you were a bit ignorant of all the little details of hunting the Avatar, you could see it slowly chipping away at Zuko. He was more ornery, the smallest things setting him off. It was evident that he was becoming impatient, longing for his old life. You resented this at times, why wasn’t the life you were building together enough to satisfy him? Of course it was only naturally from him to want that royal status back. That’s what made you the most insecure; the one thing he wanted more than anything was also the only thing you can’t give him. He bursted into the room, face red and sweat dripping down his forehead. 

“I’m so tired of being out maneuvered!” he groaned loudly, slamming the door shut. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said.

He sat on the bed, fists balled up and resting on his knees. You rubbed his back, trying your best to calm him down. This wasn’t working, if anything he was becoming more enraged. His mind was snowballing, unable to accept another defeat. Standing up again, making his way out of the room and to the fire room. Where coal was shoved into the furnaces, which powered the ship. Muttering and groaning about how slow we were traveling. Roughly throwing shovel fulls and then shooting fire to ignite them. There were barrels of blasting jelly, normally stored at a safe distance from the heat. Zuko however, shoving large amounts of coal while blasting practically white hot flames was becoming at risk. You were trying to warn him, yelling his name hoping to break him out of this fit. Even you were starting to feel the heat building in the room. 

“Zuko stop!” you scream, wanting to get closer but, the heat was burning your skin. You could barely see due to how bright the flames were. 

Not being able to stand his self destructive behavior, reaching through the hot sting and grabbing his shoulder. One of the barrels ends up catching fire, sending both of you stumbling back as it combusted. Flames began covering the room, slightly disoriented he grabs your arm and pulls you towards the exit. Soldiers were running in, trying their best to extinguish the blaze. The ship was badly damaged, to the extent of evacuating onto a sister ship nearby. Iroh was pissed at Zuko, especially after seeing the burns on your wrist and shoulder. His uncle was lecturing him the entire boat ride there. You were giving him the cold shoulder, fed up with his anger issues. A bottomless hole that no amount of reassurance and comfort could fill. You could tell he wasn’t listening to Iroh, more just sitting in deep thought. Hopefully regretting his action like the fool he is. 

“Are you okay?” he asks as the two of you settle into the new room. Sitting on the bed and thinking about his question for a second. Tears burning into your eyes, preventing you from answering. 

“Are you?” you asked. 

“Just because I lost my temper doesn’t mean-” he tries to explain. 

“No Zuko. I’m tired. You aren’t happy, I’m not making you happy. It seems like this mission is consuming you. I can’t take the way it makes me feel anymore. I want to be enough for- I want to be what you need but maybe I'm just not,” you said through your tears. 

“I don’t think that, I just want to give you the life you deserve. I want you to be my Fire Lady, to have a crown and be honored as the royalty you are. I feel like my banishment obliterated our entire future together, and it’s my fault,” he said, sitting next to you on the bed. 

“I can’t even believe you’d say that, I love you so much. Why do you think I followed you even after banishment? I chose you over everything because I love you, not being royalty or being honored by a kingdom that worships a man who did this to his own blood,” you said, running your finger tips over his scar. 

“But you deserve better,” he said. 

“No, I know you think that but you’re dumb for that,” you said, which seemed to lighten the mood a bit. He wrapped his arm around you and inspected your arm. 

“It’s really not bad, it doesn’t even hurt that bad,” you reassured him. 

He just smiled and started kissing up your arm. Making you giggle, his lips tickling your skin. The energy changes when he moves his mouth to your neck. Climbing on top of you, letting yourself fall back; giving him room to join you on the bed. It wasn’t like you hadn't been together before but this time was different. It felt really natural and organic, like you were both reaffirming how much you care about each other. Pulling at his armor, hoping he would take the hint and rip it off. He does, slowly shedding his outer layers. While he did so, you took his pony-tail out, letting the hair fall onto his face. The kissing becomes deeper, more needy and desperate.

Feeling him get hard while he was grinding against you was making you become inpatient. Your core begins to ache from the lack of contact. Taking his pants off and lifting your dress up. Reaching his hand down to feel how wet you were, dropping his forehead on your shoulder and groaning. His dick twitched against your thigh as he realized how turned on you were. You reach down and line him up with your entrance. Slowly pushing in, moving all his attention to you. Making eye contact, wanting to see your face as he stretched you around his cock. Kissing your nose and cheeks once he was fully inside. They two of you stayed still for a while, rocking your hips every now and again. 

There was something so much more intimate about just embracing each other. Enjoying the feelings of being full, watching his eyebrows furrow. Hearing him moan every time you squeeze your walls around him. Whispering affirmations into your ear, talking about how much he loved you. He began thrusting into you, wrapping one of arms around the back of your neck. Pulling you closer to him, becoming more sensitive as he started pounding harder.

'The slaps of wet skin and moans fill the room. Pressing your lips into his shoulder, biting and sucking hickies onto him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, running your hands down his back. Feeling all his muscles harden and contract. He was practically panting into your ear, the sensitivity almost felt like a burning as you came. Raking your nails down his back, sending him into his climax. Rutting and bucking into you at an erratic pace. Collapsing onto after it was done, holding you tightly. Not even bothering to pull out before the two of you fell asleep.'The slaps of wet skin and moans fill the room. Pressing your lips into his shoulder, biting and sucking hickies onto him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, running your hands down his back. Feeling all his muscles harden and contract. He was practically panting into your ear, the sensitivity almost felt like a burning as you came. Raking your nails down his back, sending him into his climax. Rutting and bucking into you at an erratic pace. Collapsing onto after it was done, holding you tightly. Not even bothering to pull out before the two of you fell asleep.

[kjupchurch-xx]

Conflicting Feelings Part Two

Author's Note: Wow! I was expecting negative feedback from Conflicting Feelings and I'm absolutely blown away at how it's been received on WattPad, especially Tumblr. I'm thankful to each and everyone of you that takes the time out to read my stories. They're literally my own personal fantasies in my mind, so I wasn't expecting others to enjoy them as much as I obviously do. But thank you for all of the love! 

The night had flown by as we laid on the sofa holding one another in silence. I felt his breathing steady, looking up slightly to see him sleeping. I sighed. I didn't know what to say or what to feel. There was no doubt in my mind that I loved him. The problem is the guilt I feel knowing that my friendship with him is what caused his marriage to collapse. I'm well aware that I can't control someone else's emotions or actions, and I know that throughout the course of our friendship, I did nothing wrong but the thoughts still consume me. 

Had he never met me, would his marriage be ending? Would he have found solace in another person?  I'd always envisioned that if this were to ever become a reality, it would be done very differently. This is not what I wanted, but did I want him? Absolutely. Truth be told, I'd never wanted anything more. 

I tilted my head, looking at him as I softly caressed his beard sighing to myself as I anxiously chewed at my bottom lip. I pulled my phone from my pocket, clicking on social media to see the news of their split had hit the internet. I shook my head, putting my phone beside me. I knew their marriage wasn't the most loving. Every premiere we'd go to for his movies, even his musicals, Deb never seemed interested. She could always be found in the crowd dozed off, being shaken awake just in the nick of time to give him a round of applause at the end. He knew this. I was always the one cheering, watching his every move even if I was bored out of my mind. I was the one who would spend hours going over lines with him when I had zero involvement in the film or play he was doing. When she would try to talk him out of certain scripts, I'd encourage them, not to spite her but because I knew he would make it a hit. 

My supportive nature was what he craved the most. He craved someone that believed in him, pushed him to do better and to further his career, and for years, ever since she tried talking him out of the X-Men script calling it a flop, he never received it from her. When his father passed and all she could manage to do was say she was sorry was when he started to realize the younger woman that had his back and supported him in every aspect of his life, even when she herself wasn't interested. The effect it had on him drove him mad and he couldn't continue denying his feelings. 

 I wrapped my arms tightly around him, closing my eyes as  took his scent in, "If you only knew how much I love you..." I said, barely above a whisper. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Including flying halfway across the world. I just wish things could be different..." I finished with a deep shaky breath.

His grip tightened on me, "That's the thing. Things are different." He said softly as I lifted my head to look up at him. "How long have you been awake?" I asked, furrowing my brows slightly. 

He chuckled, "Long enough to hear what you said.", I nodded with a chuckle, "Touche." 

He cleared his throat, "Let me take you to lunch tomorrow." 

I lifted myself off of him, quickly shaking my head no, "Absolutely not. Are you crazy?" I yelled. 

He rolled his eyes, "Why do you act as if being with me is such a bad thing?" He asked getting defensive, his words dripping with hurt. 

I looked at him, lowering my voice, "Hugh, that's not what I'm saying." 

He looked at, throwing his hands up in defeat, "It's not?! What are you saying then?!" he shouted at me. 

I rolled my eyes becoming annoyed at his shouting, "I'm saying news of your separation made headlines today. I don't think the smartest thing in the world would be for my face to be blasted all over the internet as a mistress just because I had lunch with you."

He calmed down, sighing, running his fingers through his hair, "Why do you all of a sudden give a shit about people's opinions?" 

I sighed, "Look, I know you don't get it. People not liking me is fine. But people humiliating me and possibly canceling me before I can fully kick start my career because they assume I'm some dirty mistress is different." I said honestly.  He looked at me and I knew judging by his expression that he understood my hesitance. "I'm just saying we need to lay low and look as platonic as possible right now. Let's let some time pass before we start advertising this to the world." 

He nodded, giving his shoulders a shrug, relaxing a little. "If you want to get take out, we can do that. I would love to have lunch with you, I'm just not ready to be ripped in half by the press yet." I said softly, caressing the side of his check. "That's all it is. I would never say that being with you is a bad thing. I love you with all of my heart. We just need to give it more than one day after a separation has been announced. At least a few months." 

He nodded once more, pulling me onto his lap. "I know you're right. It's just difficult when I've already been waiting two years for this." He said annoyingly, resting his head in the crook of my neck. 

I laughed softly, pressing a kiss on the top of his hair, resting my chin atop of his head. "I know, I know. Just trust me, you do not want the press printing that you've got a girlfriend the same day your soon to be ex-wife announces your separation." 

I felt him smile against my neck, "Okay, maybe you're right." He mumbled, against my neck causing me to laugh, squirming. "What? What's so funny?" He asked, caressing my neck with his face. 

He knew what I was laughing at. 

"Your beard. It tickles." I said through laughter. "Does it?" He asked cheekily, continuing to rub his face into my neck causing me to try and get off of his lap, but he kept his grip on my waist, preventing me from moving. "Where do you think you're goin', love?" He asked with an amusing tone. 

"Away from you. Stop messing with me." I said continuing to laugh while struggling to get out of his grip. 

He smirked, "Stop messing with you? How should I mess with you then? Like this?" He asked, pulling us down to the sofa as he pressed his forehead against mine, looking deeply into my eyes, with a smile plastered on his face. 

His eyes went from my eyes down to my lips, then back up to my eyes. "I love you." He said sweetly, "I love you." I assured him, as I felt his hands cup both sides of my cheeks and his lips land on mine. 

[cinnamonest]

I've been thinking more about promiscuous darlings which led me to the idea of prostitute!darling, and I was thinking about that like in that event a while back where Paimon says Kaveh seems like “the kind of guy that would be easy to take advantage of” and it got me thinking how quickly and readily he would fall in love with a prostitute… literally lured and baited as easily as a fish to a hook.

He doesn't like the thought of what he's doing, initially. He's never been the sort of person who associates with morally questionable things — he’s heard that a lot of those girls don't really want to be doing it, they just need money, so participating would be taking advantage of them, wouldn't it? He couldn't do something so awful.

But he's got a lot of pent up frustration. His work is hard, he's not in a good place financially, he's stressed, pent up, and has no outlet for release. And even if he strives to be a good person, he's still a guy, still has urges that, when gone unmet, only contribute to that frustration.

In hindsight, he feels like something possessed him. Couldn't say exactly what caused him to take a course of action so far removed from what he would have thought was his personal character.

It's just a particularly bad day, after particularly disagreeable clients spent a particularly long time endlessly getting in his face and complaining and snapping at him, he worked particularly late and is particularly frustrated and seething and wallowing as he sulks home so late at night, and he's particularly irritated because some construction going on forces him to take a different route home, and—

You just so happen to call out to him. And when he turns his head, he immediately stiffens up.

So pretty. You have that specific body type he’s always found most alluring, always pictured in his head when he would lay in bed and jerk off all day after classes. And he can certainly tell, because those outfits you girls on this part of the street wear certainly leave very little to the imagination. So much skin, he can see your entire leg, from the hip down to the ankles and all the curving along the way, he can see most of your tits too, cleavage spilling out from the top. It's immediately captivating. If he was thinking straight, he would suppose that's kind of the point, but he's too lost in the sudden burst of stimulation to his eyes to think about much at all.

You have such a nice smile, such a sweet voice. And now that you have his attention, you put on that whimsical feminine charm, shift your weight from one foot to the other, hips swaying all playfully, and he has to ask you to repeat what you said because he didn't hear you the first time, he was too distracted, and it feels so embarrassing to say that, but you just giggle — it's so cute — and repeat your question — if he wants to come inside.

He swallows, stumbles over his words at the prospect, you're being very forward — oh, wait, you probably mean come inside the building. Oh… that makes more sense, at this stage in the process. Whoops…

But that isn't much better. He's still red in the face and hesitates, all uh, ah, I, um, I just…

Yes, he isn't sure exactly what possesses him. It’s not something he would ever do on his own, surely. It feels more like the word comes out of his mouth on its own.

Sure.

The following events seem almost surreal, in hindsight. He can't remember what you even talked about, some empty meaningless conversation about what he does for a living or if he's been around this area before, some placeholder of a conversation that he knows full well is merely a courtesy to make it all feel a little more natural, empty words that are mutually understood to be just a buffer to prevent awkwardness as you walk up the stairs, to fill the short span of time before you get to the point.

He remembers said point a lot better. Long after it's over, he can remember the feeling of your mouth on his, and the way you pulled on the back of his neck to pull him on top of you, the rush of euphoric chemicals to the brain the moment you pulled just one little button undone and the whole thing you're wearing comes falling off, the visual of your body (he’s never actually seen a girl naked in real life before, it’s so captivating, the anatomy textbooks don’t do it justice), and the way your tits bounce with the movements and the way they feel in his mouth and the image of his cock driving into you over and over (no one ever told him it feels so warm and wet, so good, has he really been missing out on this all this time?) and the sounds you made are practically permanently burned into his brain.

So much so, he keeps thinking about it for days on end. He felt kind of sad when he left, but he knows that he only paid for a limited time slot, so it would be unfair to ask to stay any longer, but the way you smiled and waved and told him you hoped to see him again — still naked, body pressed up against the doorframe, the way your chest shifted when you waved — made him feel so warm, made his heart beat fast all over again.

It's all so distracting. He works at a much slower pace than usual, the following days, keeps getting distracted by the lingering visuals in his head and the way he keeps getting hard whenever he thinks about it, and not to mention the guilt.

Yes, as euphoric as it was, he feels terrible. Like he's done something wrong. Swears to himself that he'll forget about it and never do it again, that it was a one-time thing.

But he begins to rationalize it to himself.

Sure, you do it because you need money, but that means that if no one participated in the exchange, then you wouldn't make any money at all, and that would be worse, right? Besides, everyone knows some of those guys that engage in this sort of thing are terrible, mean people — but he's not, he's a really nice guy! So by seeing you, by being the one to buy your time, he's protecting you from potentially having to do it with really bad men. So, when you think about it, he's actually doing something really good.

And it improves his life, too. The next day, he finds that the nagging clients don't really get under his skin at all. Sure, they're complaining and being mean to him, but he's not really paying attention, it all feels far away, like it's not even real. He just feels full of this warm, fuzzy feeling, total bliss, like floating, without a care in the world. He isn't stressed, isn't worried. He even thinks to himself that, you know what, that task or that work can wait until tomorrow, no rush, and if someone gets mad about it, too bad.

He ends up just laying in bed, grinning like an idiot, basking in the euphoric high that lasts him several days on end.

…Except then, it fades away.

Soon he's back to the stress, constant state of being overwhelmed, the little things start to upset him again, and he actually feels more miserable than he did before, now that he has such a good feeling to compare to.

You said you hope he comes back, didn’t you? And he’s pretty sure he stuttered out an o-oh, okay, so now he’s obligated.

Thus, soon enough, he's back.

It's not like he's intentionally seeking you out. He just felt like walking home a different way today, is all, which just so happens to be the route that took him by you last time, and he has no intention of seeing you, it just so happens to be the case that you are standing around outside and you do happen to see him and you choose to call out to him (by his name!! You remember him!!), you're smiling and have such a sweet voice, you clearly want him to come in (do you like him? You wouldn't be smiling if you didn't, right?) and it would be mean of him to reject you, wouldn't it?

Yes, you're clearly happy. You smile all over again. He's not doing anything wrong, it's only wrong if the girl doesn't like doing it. He would never taken advantage of one of those vulnerable girls that's forcing herself to do it for money. But you're not like that, so it's okay.

Which is how he ends up back there a third time. Because it's okay, and it makes you happy, and it makes him very happy, so it's all okay.

And besides, what you two have is different. It's not like the normal cases, where the girl is just in it for money and doesn't want the guy at all. You clearly enjoyed your time with him. Probably a welcome relief from all the gross old guys you have to see.

And it's different because it's not just sex. Normally, with this sort of thing, it's cold and impersonal, isn't it?

But you smile so sweet and run your fingers through his hair, and cradle his head in your arms and pull him close and coo and fuss and run your fingers down his back. And since he intends to pay for the entire night this time, you get to just lay there together, and you're so warm and soft and you smile and giggle as he talks, so pretty, so nice to him, your skin is so good to touch, you smell so nice.

And the sex itself is different too — you like it, genuinely, he can tell, you make such nice sounds and lewd faces and look directly into his eyes and pull his head forward to kiss him (he one heard someone say that prostitutes never kiss clients, so if you do that it must mean he's different), and you hold him so close and tighten up around him and it feels so so so so good, and the way you quiver and the sounds get louder and you squeal and spasm and it's so so SO good, too good, it feels so passionate that it has to be real.

Yes, it is real. It's not just acting. He can feel the slick wetness all over his hips from you, that means it's real. And you don't even mind when he gets a bit lost in the feeling, starts to really let all the pent-up irritation out, gets rougher and harder and holds you by your throat. He feels so terrible after he cums and realizes what he was doing, keeps sputtering out apologies over and over, but you smile and wave your hand and say it's more than fine, giggle and kiss his forehead, say you wouldn't expect it from such a sweet boy like him, but you like it. If you're fine with it, if you like it, then you're not scared he might actually hurt you. You must really trust him, then.

The downside is that now, work feels so miserable. He keeps thinking about how much he wants to go back to you. Each project feels like torture — why is he here, negotiating with these disagreeable people, slaving away all night, when he could be balls deep in you again, hear your voice, feel your touch?

And he starts to get so irritated and frustrated again, and he finds that this time around, he doesn't have to sit there and let the frustration hit a peak before deciding to do something, he doesn't have to rationalize it for hours on end just to allow himself to give into the urge — the moment the frustration rises, his mind immediately settled on the decision. He has to go see you. You'll make everything better.

Except now, he realizes as he reaches into his drawers, there's a different problem.

…He has no money left.

That means he can't see you. He spent all his savings on you last time.

It makes him feel sick. This can't be happening. What is he supposed to do? He can't just go back to dealing with the frustration all the time! Now that he knows what it's like to be so happy, he can't go without it. He needs it.

It's not just the sex itself, he's not some kind of degenerate, he wants to see you! That's wholesome and good, isn't it? So it’s not like he’s some sort of pervert addicted to sex itself, he’s addicted to you.

And besides, if he isn't there for you, you'll have to deal with other men, and most guys who see prostitutes are bad guys, right? What if one of them hurts you? What if you're expecting him to come, and then you'll feel hurt and sad if he doesn't? You'll be disappointed. He can't let that happen.

So where is he supposed to get money from…?

Well. He has a few means, as he starts to brainstorm a bit. Right, there is a small stash of emergency money he had put away at the bottom of another drawer, that he was saving for a situation where he needed it, but put it away so he wouldn't be tempted to spend it on something unnecessary.

But this isn't like that. It is necessary, for him to continue functioning properly. And for you to have the money to get by! Not only is he guaranteeing your safety for the night, but what if you didn't get anyone if he didn't come? Well, it's unlikely no one would come, but still, you might not make enough money, and what happens then? Don't those guys that own the brothels get really mean to the girls that don't make enough? He can't have that happen. So, this situation absolutely justifies the use of the emergency stash. It's enough to give him another three nights or so. He can just use enough money for one visit, and then by the time he needs another one, he'll have brought in some new money.

No, no, you know what? You need it more than he does. He just gives it all to you at once, and to be honest, it does make his heart skip a beat when your eyes widen in shock. This way, he can reserve the next three nights in a row, right? He originally intended to space them out a bit, but, no, he’s already here, and he’s really needy right now, he’ll just do three nights in a row and figure out how to get more later. He'll just pay upfront. You're so happy. It makes him feel good.

And then, as the night goes on, when you're laying there all curled up together talking about all sorts of things, he off-handedly mentions that you wear that dress of yours all the time, he's never seen you without it, is it your favorite?

And then you get this sheepish look on your face, give an awkward laugh, say that well, you don't really have any other clothes, you sold them all to get by before you ended up here, and you give so much back to the owners that you just don't have enough to get any more…

That's so sad. Poor thing. You can't just not have enough clothes… well, he only has a few things he changes back and forth himself, but girls are really into clothes and stuff, aren't they? You deserve to have nice things, it's sad that you don't get to. He keeps it in mind, says he promises he'll get you something. You say he doesn’t have to. You’re so sweet and considerate. That just makes him want to help you even more.

So when his next project is complete and he gets the payout for it, sure, he only needs about half of it to pay you for one or two nights each week for the next month, and he could get you something cheap and still have a little left over for rent, but… you deserve nice stuff. And the nice stuff would make you so much happier, too, it would earn him favor from you… besides, he has another project he'll finish soon, he can just pay late rent using that.

So he can get the nice stuff. Besides, even shopping exclusively for higher-end stuff, it's still a bit cheaper to buy the super revealing clothes, since they use less fabric. Not that he's a pervert or anything, it's just that you need clothes like that for your job, don't you? It's part of how you lure guys in. The fact that you'll look really nice in it to him is just a side bonus, it's really for your sake.

…Which, actually, does make him feel a bit sick to his stomach. He's getting you clothes that you'll use to hook other guys who aren't him. But, no, he's a mature person, he can't… let himself get upset about something like that… it’s not your fault… he'll just choose to not think about it.

He can distract himself with how happy you are. Your eyes light up and you smile so big and you stand on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his face all over. You're happy. You're really, really happy, because of him, he made you happy, his heart is beating so fast, and when you put them on it shows off even more than he thought it would, you can almost see everything, it just barely covers the bare minimum and you seem to really like that, you pull him close and reach a leg up behind him and pull his hips forward and the rest of the night is a hazy blur of lust and euphoria, you're so happy, and he's happy too.

It feels so good. He's been missing out on this all these years. It's the best feeling of anything in the world. He's so, so happy.

He's so happy that people in his life start to comment on it. They ask if something good happened, they say they're glad he seems less stressed. He just shrugs it off, says he's just been feeling better recently, or makes something up about a different change in habits.

And sure, he has to tell Alhaitham that he won't have rent just this one time, it's just that something came up, although he won't specify what it is, but he makes it sound important — not dishonestly, because it is important, it's just that he knows that the first assumption one would make would he something a bit… more important, but if that assumption is made, that's not his fault.

Nonetheless, he's soon out of money again. Gets hit with the same wave of panic. He's got a routine now, a habit, he's dependent on you for his stress. He needs it. If he doesn't get what he needs, how is he supposed to go on? How is he supposed to function? He can't just use his hand anymore, it's not enough, it doesn't have the same effect. And he can't just beg you to sleep with him anyway, he knows you need money, he would never put you in that situation, it would be unfair to you, he's a better man than that. He has to pay you somehow.

He has some things he doesn't need. Tools he hasn't used in ages. Some stuff he hasn't worn or needed in a long time. He can sell a few things.

And, you know what, this client has been really mean to him anyway, so if he cuts a few corners to get paid a bit earlier, it's no big deal, the guy doesn't deserve his best work anyway. It’s a mentality he normally would never take, but… this is different. This is a unique situation that calls for such measures.

And he's taken out loans before from the bank, usually for projects, and he usually pays it back, so they undoubtedly assume it's just another case of that, so he'll take out a decently sized loan… of course, he may need more money for more upcoming projects, and then they won't give him a new loan until he pays back the old one, but… well, he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

And normally, he would never, ever, ever do something bad, he's a person who prides himself on his moral values, but it's not like he's doing something bad in this case, its just pure coincidence that he happens to find some guy’s wallet dropped on the ground. It just so happens to have a lot of money in it. And he returns the wallet itself into the nearest law enforcement, he gives the object itself and all the IDs and such back. He's sure the rightful owner would pay him for the good deed anyway. And when you think about it, the fact that this would happen to him just when he needed it, it's probably some kind of divine grace that this happened, and who is he to deny what the higher powers gift him with?

He can keep making it work. And he can keep buying out larger and larger blocks of your time, to ensure no one else gets to you — after that one time he arrived to find out you were already occupied for the time being, it practically made his blood boil, made him feel so sick he walked home and couldn't get the images out of his mind of you with someone else, he can't let that happen again, it would kill him inside.

Likewise, he has to get a bit more earnings, take on some more jobs, sacrifice some more sleep because you keep hinting at certain things you want, and if he doesn't buy them for you, who will? It's all stuff you need anyway — well, stuff you need for your job, all the fancy jewelry and perfumes and clothes and stuff. And he gets benefits, too — your love and favor, you take initiative more, you ride him and kiss him more and let him do all sorts of filthy things you don't let anyone else do (he knows because you told him so), you even let him stop wearing protection when he sleeps with you, and it's so much better, it's completely different, he can't go back to the old way, having to be deprived of that warm, wet heat would be utterly miserable. You even give him a night or two for free, because you like him so much, tell him it should be a secret just between you two, okay? Of course, you can't do it all for free, so he has to come back again soon, but you know, this way, he'll stay incentivized, which is good — because you want him to come back because you like him, not for money, no, never that.

You tell him he's your favorite. You say that he makes you happy. You say you would be heartbroken if he ever stopped coming. You say that you need him.

You say that you love him.

He feels like he's going to die of happiness right there on the spot.

You mention that if someone just paid off your price to the owner (said buying price is whatever the owner decides), plus the debt you accumulate from staying here (it's well known that those fees are how they trap these poor girls into endless servitude), then you would be free — that if someone just pays for you, you could be free to do what you want, that you could sleep with him every day, you could even get married.

So he has to do it. He feels bad about the concept of buying a human being, but, his situation is different, because he's a good guy and loves you. Besides, the sooner he does, then the sooner you'll never have sex with anyone but him ever again. He's saving you, really.

And if he doesn't, what if someone else does? What if someone else took you away from him? He can't even imagine it. The very notion makes him feel nauseous, panicked, distraught. He can't let that happen.

It's not unfeasible. If he really budgets well, saves just a little at a time, he can get you out in no time. Just a year or so. He'll start saving.

And sure, he hasn't paid rent in a while now, and he gets these questions of where his money is going, why he's leaving late at night when he never did that before, all these pesky questions he shouldn't have to answer, because it's none of your business, as he mutters in response. He's just got too much going on right now, and strapped for cash, he'll pay it back eventually, that's what matters.

…Which also makes him realize that, even if he does buy you, you'll have to just come live here with him, and how is he supposed to explain that to Alhaitham… he can just say he got a girlfriend, right? Still, people might recognize you, he'd find out eventually, and then he'd probably realize all the missed rent payments were actually going to him getting laid, and that's… not good… he just wouldn't understand, he's totally lacking in any understanding of romanticism or love… such unfeeling pragmatists are so annoying to deal with… he'll just have to deal with that when it happens…

Except it does end up happening sooner than later. Someone or another (some jerk who can't keep their mouth shut, he'll find out eventually), must have seen him around at night, going to you, and that same person must have reported on him (like a grade school tattletale crying to a teacher, hmph!) and that's how he eventually gets confronted, point blank (absolutely no sense of tact or appropriateness!), one night as he’s trying to leave to go see you, but finds the other blocking the door.

Are you blowing your money on a whore?

Of course, before addressing the matter directly, it's important to point out that it is rude to call women terms like that, they are prostitutes and they deserve to be respected as much as anyone else—

So you are.

Which starts off a much bigger, longer, more heated argument, in which he tries to explain that no he’s not dodging the question and that it is not prostitution, you two are in a relationship, you just so happen to also be a prostitute, but he's trying to help you change that— hey, what's with the sighing like that and rubbing the bridge of his nose like he's exasperated? It's true! You even said you love him!

Okay, yes, maybe it's true that they all say that, but in this case, you mean it, you're different, he wouldn't get it.

And sure, the whole thing is probably surprising from him of all people— what do you mean it's not that surprising? What's that supposed to mean? What— who are you calling an “ideal target”?! That's so mean! You—

And despite his best efforts, there is no point in trying to use reason with someone so cold and devoid of capacity to understand love. It's futile. How pessimistic, so annoying. Besides, he's implying you're a bad person, and he can't stand for that. No, you're not using him, how could he say that?

Eventually it becomes very clear that the conversation is going nowhere, it's very much like talking to a brick wall, someone who just refuses to even try and understand what you two have. No matter. Fine, fine, he'll focus on paying back rent first, but then he's going to buy you, and then he'll see firsthand how loving you are (and surely will not charge him extra for another person living in the house, as he was just threatened with)… he'll see. Eventually.