#BITING TEARING GNAWING CLAWING ETC | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lavishedinjimin · 4 years

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Proper Training -> knj (hybrid!au)

— synopsis: Namjoon was not expecting such a random hybrid crying at his doorstep on a rainy night. After learning more about you and your past, he was determined to help such a precious little one like you. Perhaps you just needed some proper guidance and training.

↳ pairing: Namjoon x kitten hybrid f.reader

↳ genre: fluff/angst/smut

↳ rating: 18+

↳ word count: 9.5k

↳ warnings: tw/ partner abuse (please bear with me that all of this is fanfiction and I do not tolerate anything like this in real life), degrading terms/namecalling, breeding kink, dom!Namjoon, sub!reader, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, pain kink, cunnilingus, etc.

The discreet sound of leather shoes clicking against the floor made your tail lower in desperation to find a place to hide. You whimper to herself, panicking. The living room was filled with mess, scattered pillows and the carpet spilled with milk. Although you were proud of the chaos you’ve created, you were awfully afraid of your his reaction.

You crawl underneath a side table where a lamp was placed, hugging your knees tight to your chest as you sit on your white, tucked-in tail. Your poor ears were tugged down in dismay.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” Your master declares, his cold, chilling voice causing you to mewl. You croon your face in between your knees, bottom lip quivering in fear.

“You can’t hide away from your bullshit forever, Y/n!”

Elijah begins to search the house, looking behind and under every furniture as possible. He had no mercy whatsoever. His blood boils when his eyes drag across the ruined carpets and pillows, the white stuffings scattered all over the floor. Nothing else annoys him more than coming back home every goddamn day to see his apartment scattered in clutter because you couldn’t seem to be a normal fucking hybrid.

It wasn’t hard for Elijah to spot your furry tail. He rolls his eyes and comes walking towards your fearful figure with long strides of his feet. You emit a loud squeal when Elijah tightly grabs onto your frail arms, forcing you out underneath the table – making you bump your head on the glass.

“Stand up.” Elijah blurts, voice filled with malice. Your body continues to tremble, biting your trembling lip. You didn’t dare to make eye-contact with him, staring down at your stocking-covered legs.

“Are you deaf, girl? I said fucking stand.”

The timbre of voice that he used was harsh, commanding, and loud. You obeyed in an instant, afraid of what’s about to come. Elijah grabs both of your wrists in one big hand, preventing you to do anything to him. He presses his body against yours, noticing that he was breathing very heavily.

His other hand pulls against the charm of your black collar, easily ripping the pendant which engraved his initials. Elijah throws the pendant on the floor like it was nothing but a piece of trash.

Your eyes immediately start to tear up.

“Ma…Master…” you sniffle, trying to pry your hands away.

Elijah shushes you, unclasping the leather collar with one hand, and he throws that on the ground as well.

“I’m so glad that you can’t talk properly. Sadly though, your annoying unruliness makes up for that. I’m so tired of your bullshit.” He pulls you with him in front of the door where your fluffy slippers lay messily, instructing you to put them on.

Elijah grabs his car keys from his pockets and drags you outside the apartment, down the stairs, and outside to his car. He scoffs when you were trying to escape his tight hold, but he encloses you with his arm around your waist.

Tugging you close to him, he whispers in your ear, “Don’t try to escape from me, kitty. You know I can fucking bruise your sensitive skin anytime I want. Huh, you’re fucking lucky to even receive a bruise from your master.”

Elijah drives farther and farther away from his place, not knowing where he’s taking you. You were sobbing hysterically, your tears dripping down your cheeks just like the hard downpour of rain outside. The roads were dim and the sky was dark from the thick clouds blocking the sunset.

He was sick of your cries, he was. He couldn’t wait to get rid of you.

“W-Where…?” you finally speak, wiping your tears with the back of your hands, turning your head to face your Master.

Well… not anymore.

Your chest tightens from the thought, still not wanting to accept it.

“Where are we going?” he completes the sentence from you, “To some person’s doorstep, of course. I can’t stand to live with your ass anymore.” His harsh words made you want to curl up in a little ball. “You’re nothing but a toy to me. I wish I never fucking adopted your bratty ass in the first place. How come is a piece of trash like you so expensive anyway?”

Elijah was sick of your loud sobs, he doesn’t want to be with you anymore. He drives to an upscale district in the neighborhood, a neighborhood that can definitely afford to buy a hybrid like you. So, he spots a large house on the side of the street and he immediately parks.

‘Whatever’, he thinks to himself, opening his car door to walk over to your side. Pulling the handle, he roughly tugs you out, making you stumble on your own feet. The rain instantly drenches your hair, fur, and your clothes, the cold water making your body shiver.

He orders you stay put in a stranger’s doorstep, his bigger body towering over yours.

“Kneel.” He commands.

You obey.

“You stay here until someone fucking finds you, okay, brat?”

“Master—” you claw onto his feet, begging with your eyes, “M-Master no…”

“Shhh, shhh,” Elijah caresses your cheek. The warmth of his palm allowed you to press against it in utter need, wanting to go back home with him. He strokes your hair once, twice, before he sharply pulls. “Shut the fuck up. You deserve this.”

Without giving you a final look, he turns away and walks back to his car. Elijah, from inside the vehicle, watches you sob with your palms on the cemented doorstep, your shoulders heaving up and down. He didn’t regret his decision at all.

‘Finally, peace…’

Namjoon hears loud bangs coming from his front door. He gets up from his bed, rubbing his eyes. He was in a deep sleep already! Who could be knocking so loudly at this hour?

Still, in his pajamas and no shirt, he strolls outside his bedroom while rubbing his eyes. He figures that it may just be the kids that were throwing rocks at the people’s doors again. Namjoon always wonders where their parents were.

He turns the doorknob, “I swear if you kids keep—”

Namjoon gasps when he sees you curled up, soaking wet from the rain.

A hybrid.

His mind immediately panics and wonders what he’s supposed to do with you. He has never seen a hybrid before, for he only heard them on the news. He’s read countless stories of people adopting certain hybrids – make them as pets, but he’s never seen a cat hybrid before.

“Hello?” his deep, sensual voice instantly instills inside your brain. Elijah always had a high-pitched tone, and this man’s tone was utterly different. You’ve never heard anything like his before.

Your big, swollen eyes from crying too much stared up at him. Namjoon notices your ears and tail twitch when he squats down to get a better look at you.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he gulps, “W-Why are you here?”

He wonders if you can talk. However, you did not give him any reply. Your master always taught you to be careful of random strangers, especially a man.

When he reaches a hand out for you, your instincts kicked in and you immediately lean forward, biting him, sinking your sharp teeth on his skin.

“Oww! Fuck—” Namjoon curses, rubbing his gnawed hand. You back away from him, whimpering, scared that he might attack you as your master did. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Namjoon tries to say calmly, eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t go away, don’t. I promise I won’t do anything bad to you.”

Namjoon knows one thing, though. Cat hybrids are supposed to have owners. They shouldn’t be wandering around the area like this, and if they were, adoption centers would’ve had taken them.

And for that, he detects the red marks that wrapped around your neck, making it seem like there had been a collar – previously wrapped tight.

“Come in,” he whispers gently, standing up and making room for you to enter, “I’ll keep you safe.”

Safe.

That word was familiar to you. You repeated it over and over in your mind to make you remember where you’ve heard that from.

‘I’ll keep you safe.’

The same words your master told you.

“N-No!” You furiously shake your head, “Y-You lie…”

Namjoon’s eyes widen. He sees you visibly tremble, your tail in a downright position behind you. “Oh, goodness,” he sighs, “Trust me, dear. I have no bad intentions with you. Look!” Namjoon tries to keep a gentle, caring tone in his voice, hoping that you’d trust him, “It’s raining so hard here, and you’re soaking your precious fur! I bet you’re so cold…”

You were. You were freezing your butt off. Nodding your head, you mewled pathetically.

A smile forms Namjoon’s lips, “See? If you come inside, I’ll keep you warm and get you some much comfy clothes, dear. You won’t be sleeping in cold concrete.”

His soft, gentle yet deep tone allowed you to slowly ease into his comfort.

“You can sleep in a soft, plush, comfy bed if you want!” He beams, the sleepiness in his body long gone. “Come, come inside and let me take care of you.”

A nod of your head was all it took for him to take your little hands in his, helping you stand up from your position. He was shocked by how smaller you are than him. But then again, he was indeed a tall person.

You slowly enter the unfamiliar place, though wondering how his area was so neat.

Namjoon cringes a little when your slippers created dirty, wet prints on his wooden floor. “Stay here, dear. I’ll get some fresh clothes and a towel to dry you off, okay?”

You don’t respond, too busy observing his very tidy house.

“Hey,” he unconsciously smirks, tilting your head up with a finger beneath your chin to make you lock eyes with him. “Did you hear what I said?”

A cheeky giggle escapes your mouth, eyes creasing into little crescents while you shake your head ‘no.’

“I said,” he repeats, “I’ll be right back.”

As you watch the strangely kind man walk out into a room and out of your sight, there was no hesitation for you to climb onto the large L-shaped couch that was previously capturing your attention. There was a huge fireplace adjacent to the couch, feeling amused because you haven’t seen anything like that before. Although wet, you didn’t care. Your head feverishly tilts in all directions, eager to see such new areas.

Noticing that there were a lot of plants, your ears peaked up in interest. They are everywhere!

Namjoon comes back with a towel and clothes in his hands. However, his chest drops when he sees that you’ve made yourself comfortable on the couch.

Great.

He shakes his head, trying to hide his slight exasperation with a timid laugh. He crouches in front of you so that he can clean your damp hair and ears with the towel. You were trying to pry away from him, moving your head left and right, shaking your head – obviously in a playful mood already.

“Dear,” he chuckles, “let me clean you up. C’mon now.”

You let out a little squeak when he cleans your fluffy ears, then your face. Down to your neck and your hands. The rest of your body was covered with your long sweater, cotton shorts, and stockings. He wonders if you’ll let him take them off…

“Do you wanna get changed?” he asks you.

He didn’t expect the frantic, almost desperate nod.

“Oh. Do you want me to take your clothes off?”

“Mhm!”

Namjoon gulps the ball that formed in his throat. He’s a grown adult, he shouldn’t be nervous about this. But then again, you were still half-human and a total stranger… it was unbelievable how you trusted him enough.

He grabs the hem of your sweater and slowly tugs it upward, revealing your soft, supple-looking skin. An immediate exhale leaves from his lips when you thankfully had worn a bra underneath. You raise your arms, letting him take the damp clothing out of you. “Here you go…” Namjoon slips on the large plain black shirt that almost covered half of your body. You giggle when you felt that it was so warm and soft, and very comfortable for it was twice your size.

Namjoon strips your stockings off, followed by your shorts. He makes you wear one of his boxers, all while having a content smile on your face. Pulling the neckline of his shirt up to your nose, you smelled his scent that instantly got you hooked. Namjoon chuckles, “Yes, dear?”

There was a glint in your eyes, looking up at him with a bright smile.

“Aww, you comfy?” he asks gently, lifting a hand to rub your arm. He didn’t expect a verbal reply from you, for he already learned that you don’t talk much. Although it can be seen from your content and calm expression, you were now perfectly fine.

Namjoon eventually seized the opportunity to take you in. A cat hybrid. In his house. Playing with the pillow covers. As he sits beside you on the couch, with an arm resting on the backrest and his left leg hiked up to his right knee, he wonders if you were still claimed.

“Hey, hey,” he gets your attention by caressing your back. You turn around with big, innocent eyes.

“Do you have a name, dear?”

Namjoon hears you mutter something underneath your breath, but he can’t seem to get a hold of it. “Say that again?”

“Y/n…” you repeat with a little tilt of your head. Your ears perked when he rubs the top of your head soothingly.

He repeats the name over and over his mind. “Y/n… good.”

His hand moves down to your chin, using his thumb to rub gentle circles on the skin. He sees that there were freckles scattered all over your face. “Kitten. You’re still a kitten, aren’t you Y/n?”

Your tail hikes up, moving closer to the nameless man carefully.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” he breathes out, spreading his legs apart so that you can sit in between his thighs. “Do you want me to call you kitten?”

Namjoon finds your little whines so adorable. Once you’ve sat down, you allowed your right hand to carefully rest against his bare chest, feeling him. Your striking blue eyes, soft fluffy white tail and ears deeply resembles a white Persian kitten. Namjoon assumes that that’s your breed.

“Kitten,” he whispers, feeling pity of you all of a sudden. He holds your hand that was on his chest, “Why were you left out on the rain like that?”

With those words, your head hangs low and your eyes well up again. You clench your wrists tightly, “M-Master…”

Namjoon quietly gasps when he sees a single tear dripping down your cheek. Oh god, he shouldn’t have asked this question.

“Aw, kitten,” he tuts, wiping your tear away, “It’s okay. I understand now.”

Based on what happened, it was easy for him to connect the dots. You were abandoned by your master and was left at his doorstep. Namjoon couldn’t even imagine how you, a poor kitten, would’ve felt. Someone who you once deeply trusted and who you gave all the power to take care of you could betray you like that – it must’ve been heartbreaking.

Guessing with the marks of the collar that were engraved on your neck, it must have been recent.

Namjoon takes your face in his hands, making you look at him. His eyes were looking into you like your master once did, so full of adoration. But now you guess that you weren’t his anymore.

“Don’t cry, kitten. I’ll protect you. I’m not gonna let anyone take you. You’ll stay here for a couple of days before I figure out what to do with you, okay?”

You nod once, a pout on your lips.

To make you feel a little bit better, Namjoon rubs the back parts of your flattened ears. He hears an unexpected purr, causing him to chuckle. Shivers run throughout your body. He figures that you like these ear rubs.

“I’ll get you a big, warm blanket and you can sleep here, alright, Y/n?”

You move away from him so that he can stand up. With round eyes, the kind man gets up and walks away once again.

You yawn, sleepiness getting the best of you. You try to find the comfiest spot on the couch before settling yourself in. This wouldn’t be too bad… it’s much better than sleeping outside with the cold rain!

When Namjoon comes back, he sees that you’re already fast asleep. Once again, his heart clenches. He pities you, for who would even ditch a precious, good little kitten like you are.

He quietly covers your curled up figure with the blanket, careful not to wake you up. He rubs the back of your ear once, twice, before shutting the main light of the living room off. He flicks the lamp on the corner of the room so that it wasn’t pitch dark. Namjoon also makes sure that the door was locked – who knows what could happen.

“Poor thing…” he whispers to himself, right before he tucks himself in bed.

Right after Namjoon wakes up, just the minute he opens his tired, puffy eyes, he sees something white in his view. A tail.

You were sat meekly in his lap with your back to him, cheeks pressed down against the sheets, waiting for him to wake up. Once you feel him move, quickly – you let out an unconscious mewl, greeting him with a happy smile.

“Oh, Y/n,” Namjoon says, his morning voice causing him to sound deep and raspy. “Good morning… I didn’t expect you to be on my bed!” He laughs a little awkwardly.

You crawl further up to him, hands softly pressing against the bed. Your innocent, happy smile was now replaced with a cheeky, teasing smirk. Namjoon’s hand lifts to pet your head, his soft fingertips scratching behind your ear. Involuntarily, you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, smelling his pleasant scent.

“Y/n…” he warns when he feels you get closer to him.

What’s the reason to stop? You mentally ask yourself with a chuckle.

Without thinking, you gave his honeydew neck a broad lick, hearing him gasp, and bite his neck just hard enough until there was a little mark.

“Hey!” Namjoon bursts while he pushes you away from him, making you lay back down on the bed. He took the opportunity to get on top of you, pinning you down with his hands on your wrists.

His bed hair, all messy and tangled, flows perfectly down to his forehead that almost covered his eyes. He feels somewhat irritated from the way you were smiling so mischievously, a bold gaze painted across your eyes.

“Naughty,” he whispers, lowering his head down until it rests almost against your ear, “Stop that.”

His grip on your wrist tightens, and it fueled your instincts to just bite. Tilting your head a little to the right, you jerk forward as an attempt to sink your teeth into the skin of his wrist, but Namjoon was quicker to move it away.

“Well, well,” he chuckles, climbing out of the bed but still keeping an eye on you. “Obeying isn’t easy for you, huh?”

Namjoon walks up to his closet to grab himself some clothes with you watching idly on the bed. You decide to sit up and rest your back against the headrest.

“Anyhow, I need to go to work, so you’re staying here until I get back home.” He hears a little whimper coming from you, but he ignores the sound, “Do you understand?”

You nod once, tapping your foot impatiently on the bed.

Oh, the fun you’ll have when he’s not here…

“Wait a second, you still don’t know my name, do you?” He partly laughs mid-sentence. “Excuse my manners! I’m Namjoon, but you can call me Joon for short—”

“Master.”

Namjoon’s forehead creases immediately, “Ma—I’m not your master, kitten,” he says breathily.

“Master!” you insist, whining in your seat.

“No, kitten. You don’t belong to anyone yet. You have no master.”

Oh. You felt something stinging in your chest – as if a spear has been pierced through your heart.

Namjoon doesn’t think much about what he said, for he believes that he’s just telling the truth. He walks out of the room and to the bathroom to get himself ready for work, about to give this whole household all to yourself.

When he arrives at the agency, Namjoon scurries to the conference room in a rush. He lowers his facemask, looking at the watch on his wrist.

9:39 A.M.

The sliding door unlocks and he was quickly greeted with the rest of the boys already seated on their designated areas around the long table, supposedly ready for an album launch consultation. He emits a sigh, “Sorry, I’m late.”

Thankfully, the CEO was late too.

Yoongi chuckles, clasping his hands together in front of him on the table, “You know, Namjoon, you’ve been tardy more times than Jungkook lately—”

“Yeah!” Jungkook abruptly buts in.

“—did your alarm not wake you up again?”

How can he say that there’s a kitten hybrid in his house without the boys finding him delirious?

But either way, the members always deserve to have honest answers.

He takes a seat in between Hoseok and Jimin, who were patiently waiting for a response like the rest of them. “So, um, you guys know all about those… hybrids, right?”

A few of them chuckled, some of them replied with a “yes.”

“You did not just buy a hybrid, Kim Namjoon!” Seokjin half-yells and half-laughs.

“Aren’t those expensive?” Hoseok inquires, “Well… you are a multi-millionaire…”

“No, I didn’t buy anything!” he retaliates, “A stray kitten hybrid has been left on my doorstep last night and I took her in my home!”

“Huh?!” almost everyone exclaims synchronically. “A kitten hybrid?” Jimin questions, “Like… half kitten, half…” he almost can’t finish his words from how other-worldly he thinks he sounds, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Half-human, yeah.” Namjoon completes his sentence.

He can feel the rising tension inside the room. Even though the air conditioning was on, Namjoon feels himself getting hotter each second.

“If this goes out to the public…” Taehyung mumbles, “It’ll be all over the news. They’d think you’ve adopted or bought one, hyung.”

“Who’s looking out for her?” Hoseok asks, looking straight at Namjoon’s eyes.

“It’s a her?!” Jungkook whisper-shouts, eyes were blown wide.

“Hey!” Jimin slaps the younger’s arm, “You weren’t listening!”

“Yeah, yeah, God,” Namjoon frustratingly rakes his hands through his dark hair. ”She’s like… abandoned from her original owner…”

Suddenly, like a flash appearing inside his mind and taking over his train of thoughts, your pleading, desperate face when he first saw you outside his house overtook his head. He remembers how woeful, miserable, and heartbreaking you looked – all drenched from the rain with your wet hair framing your face. White fur has been soaked and ears pulled down in despair. Namjoon can almost hear your gloomy little noises, those pleading mewls going past your lips.

Oh, how pitiful you were.

“Kim Namjoon!” Hoseok breaks him out of his ruminating thoughts with a violent shake of his shoulders. He laughs uncontrollably right after, filling the room with endorphins. “She’s abandoned, okay we get that, then what?”

Namjoon giggles embarrassingly, lowering his head down while his dimples appear on his cheeks.

“Uh, I mean—I couldn’t just leave the poor thing outside. It was raining heavily at the time so I opted to just let her stay in with me.”

“What are you going to do with her?” Taehyung asks curiously, “Will you take her back to the centers?”

The truth was, Namjoon wasn’t thinking about bringing you back to the adoption center. It’s too early for him to decide if he wants to keep you or not. But one thing’s for sure, though, that he loves the bratty personality that you’re putting up with him.

“I don’t know if I want to.”

From the car ride back home, Namjoon was on his phone researching all about these so-called hybrids. Everyone has heard of them – it’s no secret. But having to receive one was never a plan of his.

‘Kitten Hybrids.’ He types on the search engine.

‘Kitten hybrids usually grow to an average height of four-and-a-half to five feet, depending on their breeds. These hybrids are created either from an infant instilled with feline DNA the day they were born, or the result of two cat hybrids breeding.’

Namjoon was already aware of all of that. He was acquainted with the knowledge of how hybrids are created when it was less widespread than today.

‘Just like regular, ordinary animals, the younger ones are most likely to have insubordinate and rebellious tendencies, whether a male or a female. When not guided and coached properly by their first owner – kittens will most likely display abysmal behavior. The possessors of this hybrid must know their duty to ensure that your kitten knows what is right and what is wrong.’

Namjoon is dropped off at his house and finally, after hearing the lock jingle, you skipped your way to the front door with a happy, wide smile plastered on your face.

You whine while embracing his taller, muscular build in your short arms. Namjoon gasps from the unexpected action, almost hesitant to hug you back. “K-Kitten…” he exhales, “hey.” He closes the door behind him with one hand, as the other rubs the back of your ears. Purring, you press your cheek against his chest.

“Did you miss me? What did you do while I was g— oh my fucking god.” Once Namjoon looks up to scan the living room, it was all a horrible, jungle of mess. His indoor plants were shoved down to the floor, dirt all over the place with the expensive vases shattered. His pillows and the cushion of his couch were littered everywhere. Books had fallen to the ground at the opposite side of the room. It was like a magnitude five earthquake had just occurred.

He looks down at you with a serious gaze, eyes unwavering with his forehead creased in dissatisfaction. Namjoon clenches his jaw tightly when he hears a quiet, almost discreet breathy giggle coming out of you.

Brat. He thinks.

“Are you proud of the mess you’ve made?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head happily.

“That’s fortunate.” Namjoon was quick to shrug his coat off, leaving it on the coat rack whilst sliding his shoes off. He takes a deep inhale through his nose, “You know what you’re doing is wrong, Y/n.”

You tilt your head to the side in utter confusion. Why doesn’t he seem… angry?

Slowly walking backward until your ankle hits the couch, you sit down timidly. Watching Namjoon clean up your mess was a weird, yet a new sight. He wasn’t screaming at you, punishing you – he isn’t doing what Elijah did.

Namjoon quietly cleans the shattered vase and dirt with a handy broomstick, smirking to himself when he hears a whine coming from your lips.

“This vase is expensive you know, Kitten?” he chimes, smiling in your direction. “But that’s okay. We can buy a replacement. I was getting a little sick of this plant anyway.”

Your eyes widen. There was a feeling inside of you that you can’t seem to decipher. After creating the mess you’ve made, you prepared yourself for a whole spanking from him. But it didn’t come. It was so unusual for you that he isn’t here yelling his lungs out.

Namjoon collects the trash on the dustpan and throws it in the bin. It was amusing for him that you were just sitting there prettily; your hands on your thighs while your white tail keeps swaying behind you. Your face shows a clear image of confusion, which was entirely Namjoon’s plan.

You were used to all the shouts and screams, thinking that it was normal. But he was showing you a reaction you’ve never seen before. Maybe if he doesn’t give you the reaction that you anticipate, you’ll stop misbehaving, and he can teach you some good morals.

A mewl leaves your lips, trying to get his attention. Pouting, you call out for him, “J-Joon…”

“Yes, Kitten?” he chuckles, placing the broomstick at a corner. “Come here.”

Without hesitation, you get up to walk over to him. Although, your body quickly stops when he clicks his tongue firmly. “Tch, no. Crawl. Crawl to me.”

Your intuition takes over you and within a second, you were down on all fours, making your way to him. With big, wide eyes, you held eye-contact with him. Namjoon watches your hips swing side to side, tail upright. He purses his lips to a thin line, trying to stop from grinning too wide.

Once you were at his feet, Namjoon slightly leans down until his hand can reach your head. He combs your soft, beautiful hair – and of course, not missing the opportunity to rub the back of your ear. He hears you purr.

“You don’t do this, Y/n,” he mutters as soft as possible, “It’s bad to ruin other people’s stuff. Don’t go destroy every possible thing you can destroy, okay? Are you a good kitten?”

Your nose twitches from his question – of course, you are!

“Y-Yea…” you murmur.

“Well, good little kittens don’t do this. They don’t act like this. If you wanna be good, behave for me, don’t make a mess, and maybe I’ll reward you.”

Namjoon can notice the change of your eyes from the word ‘reward’.

‘Were you even rewarded before?’ He thinks to himself. The thought of you not even receiving something good breaks his big heart.

“Do you want that? You want a reward?” Namjoon grabs your face in both of his hands. He giggles from the way you nodded so fast. “Then be a good kitten for me.”

In the next couple of days, Namjoon was surprised by your every improvement; whether how little or big the change might be. However, there was still an itching need for you to push over and break his newly-bought Snake plant. You still had to work on that.

The thing that was driving you to your goal of being ‘good’ was Namjoon’s so-called reward for you. You have no clue what it might be, but you still feel excited about it.

Your old master was now forgotten. Before, his face occasionally appears in your mind for a brief second. But as Namjoon continuously showers you with compliments, kindness, and praise that Elijah couldn’t give you to, all you can ever think about now is making Namjoon proud. That was your overall goal.

“Y/n, don’t bite!” Namjoon chuckles right after you tempted to gnaw his wrist when as he gives you food. “What are you, huh? I think you’re much naughtier than a pup!” He slowly moves his hand forward again, third try feeding you with nuggets. As you sat idly on the couch, legs on a ‘W’ position with your hands on your lap, Namjoon instructs you to keep your eyes on him.

“What will you say?” he giggles when he sees your pout. “Say please.”

Please?

You tilt your head to the side to let him know your confusion about the word that had just been added to your small vocabulary. Namjoon leans back, purely baffled. Was your master such a piece of shit for not teaching you basic things like this?

“U-Um, listen… okay?” he stammers, his mind still in bewilderment. “ ’Please’ is what you say when you want something from someone.”

Namjoon starts to get lost in your beautiful eyes.

“When you want to ask for something, when you need something; may it be food, water, comfort, or attention – just say please, and your master will surely give it to you.”

You look down, tucking your tail to sit on it. “But h-have no m-master,” you mutter.

Namjoon was quick to tilt your head back up with his unoccupied hand, wrapping his hand around your jaw. You whimper quietly. “Don’t worry, Y/n,” he smiles, trying to make you feel better, “At least you have me, right?”

You affirm him with a nod.

“Good. Now c’mon, say please and I’ll let you eat.”

“Please…” you whisper, eyes wide. He chuckles lovingly, adoring the way you said that so cutely. He feeds you the chicken nugget whilst placing the square box down beside you. He combs your hair with slender fingers, releasing all of the knots.

“Good girl, baby.”

From that single sentence, you gasp.

Why did your stomach… flutter?

“Oh… err,” Namjoon meekly laughs after realizing what he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

After being with Namjoon after a whole week, you’ve never been more comfortable. He has brought you a whole bag of toys and even new clothes for you to try on.

“Have you been spoiled like this before, hm?” he asks cockily, watching you twirl around with your new outfit. For the past days, you’ve been wearing his clothes, it was great that you can finally have your own!

You shake your head as an answer.

“Pass me the bag, kitten,” Namjoon asks you, raising a brow to see if you’ll obey.

Without hesitation, you grab the shopping bag and gave it to him. He chuckles, “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” you reply shyly, using the new phrase that he once taught you.

Watching him rummage through the bag as he sits down on the edge of the bed, you feel quite the anticipation. He mumbles something underneath his breath, although you couldn’t quite catch what it was.

“Here it is.”

Your eyes shine, tail jerking upward in excitement when you saw what the object was.

There beholds a pink collar in his hand, dotted with shiny silvery beads. Your mouth forms a wide grin, itching to put it on.

“Kneel before me, baby.”

He unclasps the collar and puts it around your neck. It was a perfect size. He makes sure that it wasn’t too tight nor too loose – just snug enough to remind you that it’s there.

“So pretty,” he whispers. Whining, he grips your chin and pulls you close to him. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Namjoon growls darkly right after, and it shocked you. You’ve never seen him like this before, heck, you’ve never felt anything like this, too. A trail of goosebumps arises to the skin of your arms and legs just from watching his aura completely change.

“Shit, keep staring at me like that and watch me fucking…” he sighs, “Sorry, Y/n.”

You didn’t have to say anything, but Namjoon can see the way you were rubbing your thighs together. He traces your collar with his index finger, watching his jaw clench tightly. “Do you like it, Kitten?” Namjoon asks, receiving a nod from you.

Your mind doesn’t think any further as you comply with your immediate instinct. You stand up just to sit on his lap, placing your hands on his broad chest. He was surprisingly quick to wrap his strong arms around your body. “Good…” you mumble.

“Good?” he smirks, “What do you mean, Kitten? Is the collar good?”

“Yes, but… m-me.”

Namjoon tries to connect the things that you were saying. “You? What about you?”

“I’m good,” you pull yourself closer to him until your bodies touch each other. Crooning your head beneath his chin, Namjoon can feel your fluffy ears ticking his jawline. “I’m good,” you repeat.

“Yeah baby, shit,” he inhales your scent, cupping the back of your head firmly as he pulls you tighter to him, “Good girl. You’re a good girl. My good fucking kitten – aww fuck – what a-are you doing?” He was taken aback when you suddenly start grinding your hips on his jean-clad crotch.

Your core tingles, a delightful sensation you’ve haven’t felt before. Your cheeks heat up, his neck looking so delicious. Something takes over you and you instantly lean forward, attaching your mouth on his neck. Namjoon hisses as he feels your teeth dig into his skin. The way you whimpered while you ground down on him harder fueled the fire inside of him.

“Kitten,” he growls, twitching as you lick his neck. “You want your reward, yeah? Do you think you’re good enough to deserve to see my cock?”

The way he used his voice; deep, demeaning, and teasing, caused you to let out a quiet moan. “Yes… p-please!”

“Yeah, you do?” he smirks, “Then strip. Let’s see if you can follow instructions and do as you’re told.”

Standing up, you removed every single inch of the clothing. You were waiting for him to say stop, but he waits until you were fully naked. Shyly, you finally pulled your cotton panties down, stepping out from it. You couldn’t grab the courage to gaze at him, for his eyes were like lasers that’ll melt you if you look.

“Take my cock out.”

You were needy for you’ve never felt this way before. Everything was too overwhelming. You kneel on the floor and wasted no time to unbutton and unzip his jeans while he took off his shirt. You were salivating.

He was shocked by your eagerness. He helps you tug his jeans down, before guiding you to pull his briefs down as well.

Eyes almost bulging out of your sockets, they widen as his half-hard cock finally comes to show. Namjoon laughs lightly from your reaction, closing your parted mouth with his fingers beneath your chin.

‘Whatever!’ You think, before taking matters in your own hand.

“Fuck!” Namjoon bucks his hips when you suddenly grabbed the base of his cock, leaving a wet and sloppy lick from his balls up to his tip. His body shivers, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. “Fucking bitch…” he mutters under his breath.

A cheeky giggle, a mischievous smile, all of those caused Namjoon to let out a disapproving sigh. He harshly cups your jaw, “Did I tell you to do that, huh?” he forces two long fingers inside your mouth, making you choke on it, “Did I?”

His slender digits hit the back of your throat, making you gag. Shaking your head profusely as an answer, he chuckles.

“That’s right, I didn’t. Have you forgotten everything that I’ve taught you already, huh?” Namjoon uses his strength to carry you from the floor to lay you down on the bed behind him. His cock throbs from the way you were clenching your legs together, desperate for some sort of friction down there.

“Spread your legs.” He commands.

Hesitantly, you hike your legs up to plant your feet on the mattress. Namjoon withholds his urge to just dive right in your pussy, for it was too fucking long since he’s tasted one. “Go on, kitten. Let me see your cute pussy.”

His words alone were enough to make you shiver. You mewl in embarrassment as you displayed your cunt all to himself, spreading your knees apart.

“Oh, fuck,” he exhales, “you’re dripping.” He starts to slowly run his big, warm hand up and down your thigh, heightening your sensitivity. “Who made you this wet, hm?”

“Joon...” you squeak as he inches his hand closer and closer to your throbbing heat. Bucking your hips up, you try to meet with his hand but it only resulted in him pulling away.

“Me? I see, kitten.” He grins before laying down on his stomach, his head in front of your pussy as he gets ready to eat you out. His lips slightly brush against your inner thighs, prodding his tongue out to lick around your core. Your legs involuntarily jerk from the weird yet erotic feeling. “What made you wet?”

“D-Don’t know,” you whisper. It was true that you didn’t know. All that you knew that you became needy for him and that’s it. There was no reason why. Namjoon clicks his tongue and stops you from bucking your hips too much. He growls and pins your hips down. “Stay. Still.”

Without wasting any more time, he doesn’t go for the ‘gentler’ route for he was quick to lick a firm, heavy line from your dripping hole and to your clit. He watches your body’s immediate reaction, trembling. He keeps his eye contact with you as he does this a second time, hearing your loud, heavy pants.

“Feel good?” Namjoon mutters, “Do you want more? Or do you want us to stop—”

“No! No!” you instantly reply with a shake of your head, “M-More please!”

Please. He was satisfied with your answer and dived back in. He firstly teases your slick by giving fast-paced licks on your wet folds, drawing patterns, and figure eights to bring you to blissful pleasure. You arch your back, whimpering from the newly discovered feeling. It was scary to feel so good, but you can’t stop.

“This pussy tastes so fucking good, mmngg…” he wraps his mouth around your little clit, sucking harshly on it. He smirks in the process because of your constant cute noises. He watches your face twist in satisfaction, your neck and chest dampening from the accumulation of sweat.

“You like that, hm? Like my tongue playing with your cute, sweet virgin pussy?” he groans before continuing his work on you, both sucking and flicking quick licks on your clit at the same time. Your body writhes on the bed, your hands going down to grip onto his hair. Namjoon grunts from your sudden sharp tugs, the pain making his cock twitch. Namjoon was unconsciously grinding his hips down on the bed, resulting in a few moans and delightful hums coming out of him.

“Yeah? Wait until I fucking tear your tight pussy apart with my thick cock.”

The wet, slurping noises added to the heat and sensuality of it all. He collects the juices that dripped down your entrance on his tongue, tasting your sweet nectar. Your scent was addicting, so sweet, and it just made him want to eat you out on his bed all day and make you cum again and again.

“Ooohh m-my—aaaghh!” You suddenly felt a rapid, burning sensation when Namjoon decided to insert the tip of his middle finger inside your pussy. Your walls were tight around his digit and it only urged him to push it in deeper. “Mhmm, there you go,” he chuckles darkly, “Fucking take it, Kitten, wanna stretch your pussy walls out. You don’t wanna disappoint your master, do you?”

‘Master?!’ Your face lights up, eyes enlarging.

Namjoon sees your reaction to his words, knowing damn well what he’s doing to you.

“You heard me, Kitten.” Namjoon pumps his digit at a steady pace, trying to find your sweet spot. “I’m gonna fucking own you after I fuck this cunt.”

He alternates between sucking your clit and thrashing his wet, warm tongue along your slit, all while his finger was moving oh-so-slowly inside of you. You pulled on his hair harder as he eagerly ate your pussy out need to make you feel good. “Master… master!” you pant, starting to see stars, “I— oohh please!”

“Hold it.” He commands with a rough voice, “Hold your fucking cum, or I’m not gonna fuck you.”

You whimper loudly, thrashing your head side to side from the overwhelming sensation. Your core feels like it was about to burst any second as it tightens and tightens. “Master!” you squeal, legs shaking when he starts to rapidly flick your clit. Namjoon didn’t care that you were thrusting your hips so frantically up against him anymore, he finds it so hot that you are so reckless.

You obey and held yourself from cumming, just as he told you. You wanted to be obedient and follow his instructions. With a final, harsh lick of your soaked cunt, he denies your orgasm and allows himself to lean back and see the mess he’s created.

Face fucked out and cheeks blushing, chest heaving up and down, your cunt throbbing in a desire to cum. You look so perfect.

“Master,” you cry, “More…”

“More? Awwh, my pretty kitten wants more?” he bites down on his lip, wrapping his hand around his cock to stroke it a couple of times. “Aren’t you fucking ashamed of yourself for being such a horny slut for your master?”

You watch his actions with wide eyes, noticing some white liquid pouring out from his tip. Namjoon collects his precum and lathers it all over his shaft, hissing in pleasure.

“Master’s gonna fuck your tiny cunt with his cock now. It’s big, isn’t it?” he smirks, dimples peeking through.

You nod shyly. ‘How is it gonna fit?’

He shifts his position until he was hovering above you, legs on either side of yours. He traps your body with his arms. “Who’s my good girl?” he asks in a deep whisper, lips ghosting against yours. He aligns the tip of his cock upon your entrance, “Tell me, baby. Who’s my good, obedient little kitten?”

“I-I am, master.”

“Correct. I want you to always remember that, slut.” Namjoon abruptly shoves the tip of his cock in, stretching your pussy out and letting your walls accommodate his thick, big size. You gasp loudly, eyes rolling back as your hips quiver in pleasure.

Namjoon surpasses a moan, crooning his head in between your neck and shoulders. He starts to thrust hastily, not letting you adjust. “There, there. Take that dick. Your pussy’s fucking made for me, kitten.”

There was a slight sting of pain as Namjoon starts pounding, but you try to push it to the back of your mind and focusing on the new feeling. Your mouth gapes, the sounds escaping were fast-paced ah’s after every hard thrust.

Your hands were quick to wrap around Namjoon’s body before your fingers suddenly scratch his back. He grunts loudly from the sharp, stinging pain of your nails. “Kitten… fucking shit,” he moans, “K-Keep doing that… o-okay? You can scratch my back any… aah yea—anytime.”

Your scratches caused bright red marks on his skin, but the sting was driving him to fuck you harder. “Aww, fuck, my poor little pet,” Namjoon says through an airy moan, “Want master to stop? Hm?” he angles his hips better so that he can hit that certain sweet spot inside of you. “Is it too much for your bratty cunt to handle?”

”Wrap your legs around your master, c’mon baby, let me fuck you deeper,” Namjoon grunts once you obeyed, his big cock doing its job to make you feel good, wanting him to be your only first and last cock you’re ever going to get.

His tip rubs up against your g-spot, hitting such unexplored places. You arched your back as your legs shook violently, “Oh, oh, oh, oh—!” high-pitched moans erupt from you with every thrust. “S-So good!”

His lips tickle the side of your neck, teasingly giving wet, sloppy kisses. Your body shivers, being your neck a newly-found sensitive place. “Master…” you whimper, closing your eyes, “Please…”

“Please what, kitten? Do you want to cum, mhm? Cum around your master’s dick?” He says in a teasing way, assuming how much you liked it when he talks dirty because of your pussy constantly tightening around his dick.

Everything around you feels and sounds lewd; the two of you were moaning without care of whoever’s listening, his balls were slapping against your ass, bodies so close together. His neck looks so good right now, the skin beading with sweat, and you can’t stop your temptation to taste him.

Leaning forward, you open your mouth and clasped your sharp teeth down on his neck, whining in the process. Namjoon shudders, biting his lip from the delicious pain. He leans his head more to the side to allow you more access.

“Fucking fuck,” groaning, he grabs your neck and pushes you away from him. “Turn the fuck around, kitten. Lay on your stomach, yeah that’s it.”

You turn around and there on Namjoon’s sight was your pretty, white tail. He bites his lip and gives it a taunting tug, making you wiggle your butt. With the new position, he pounds your pussy while his hips continuously bounce against your ass.

“A-Ahh, there we go. You like it when I fuck you raw?” he growls against your ear. “Mhm, yeah I know you do. You like the feeling of my cock drilling your pussy, right? You want someone to coat this pure little pussy with cum.” Namjoon starts to feel animalistic once he wraps his strong, muscular arms around your neck, bringing you into a tight chokehold. You couldn’t hold back your squeals, feeling hot as he restricts your breathing.

His thrusts turn inhumanely fast, “So tight, fuuuuck kitten. I’m gonna fucking burst my cum into you, make you fucking pregnant with my kids, oh god—” Namjoon doesn’t care about what he says, his words falling carelessly out of his mouth, “You would want that, do you? Your body probably isn’t ready to carry my children, hm? But oh goodness fuck you would look so good,” the fantasy continues to play in his mind, fueling him to pound you harder with his rock solid cock, “You’d look so fucking hot, your little belly so round. I wanna fill your tight, warm pussy up ‘til the brim and watch it pour out. You want that?”

You feel dizzy, all too intoxicated with his cock and his dirty words. You only nod for you can’t bring yourself to talk.

“Of course you do, you’re gonna take master’s cum like a good kitten, yeah? Wanna cum with me, baby?” his voice becomes a little high-pitched, cock twitching inside of you, “Just let it all go, baby. Don’t hold back. I’ve got you, you’re safe with me, Y/n.”

You didn’t know how you did it, or why it happened, but you feel yourself coming undone on his thick cock. Your body feels like it was going limp as it keeps shaking and trembling, although his arms were there to keep you in your place. Namjoon sighs as he feels your walls clench so tightly around him, pulsating furiously as you soak his cock with your white, sticky liquid.

“There… fuck yea, that’s my good girl,” he moans, “cum all over me.”

Namjoon swivels his hips in circles, humping you like a fucking dog on a rut.

“Master…!” you wail loudly, practically screaming, “Puh…please!”

Namjoon hasn’t cummed so hard in a long time. His seed spurts deep inside of you, coating you up with his liquid. His thrusts became sloppy, hips jolting for his cock was throbbing so hard. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” He pants while wrapping his hand around your neck, tightening his hold so that your collar can strangle you. “Take my cum, take it nice and deep, kitten. Fuck you’re such a good girl for master.”

After coming undone, Namjoon pulls out and watches his cum mixed with yours drip down your pussy. It was such an erotic sight, almost reminding him like all those pornos he’s watched. Your tail was hiked straight up into the air, burying your face into the pillow as you purr.

Namjoon flips you back over so that he can see your face. He watches your chest rise up and down in an attempt to catch your breath. You whimper quietly.

“Hm, what is it, kitten?” he strokes your cheek tenderly with the back of his hand.

“Again.”

“Again?!” Namjoon laughs breathily, eyes wide. “Want a round two?”

“Yes, master.” You nod with a frivolous grin.

“What will you say?” He dives his hand down to play with your collar, running his fingers against the studs. “What’s the word, kitten?”

You plead with your eyes, lips forming a pout as you’ve never felt so needy in your entire life. The whole ride felt so good and you wanted to do it again and again and again with him, allowing the two of you to strengthen your bond together. You’re trusting him your entire life, you’re submitting to him. And you’ve never felt safer than before.

“Please.”

His lips connect with yours for a quick, light kiss, “Good.”

Ironically, the next day, Elijah had come knocking at Namjoon’s door with a set of papers in his hand. Namjoon had a protective stance with his arms crossed, eyeing the dude up and down.

‘So this is the guy who exploited my kitten…’

Although Elijah had absolutely no clue that he was talking to the Kim Namjoon of BTS. He was stuttering as he talks, hands shaking.

“I-I’m here to give… oh, uh… the— you know… p-papers… sir.” Elijah gulps, trying his best to keep eye contact with the much taller, bigger man in front of him. “Since, uh, y-you… well I guess since you o-own Y/n now… right?”

Namjoon wanted to punch his face so badly.

Before he replies, Namjoon hears the soft pitter-patter of your feet coming near, until they stop. He turns around to see you frozen in your spot behind him, anger, sadness, and disappointment were written across your face as you saw Elijah. Your blood boils and you quickly stride towards him, wanting to hurt him as he hurt you. You’ve never realized until now how much of an asshole he was towards you in comparison to Namjoon’s kindhearted self. Namjoon has shown you what it actually means to take care of you without all of the abuse that you thought was normal.

“Hey, hey, Kitten,” Namjoon was quick to hold you back before you can even lay a finger on Elijah. He turns you around and holds your face in his hands, “Be good and stay in our room, okay? I’ll be there in a minute,” he sees that your eyes were starting to well up with tears. He clicks his tongue, “Kitten… you don’t have to be afraid, okay? Remember what I always tell you?”

‘I’m gonna keep you safe.’ The sentence reappears in your mind.

With a final nod, you take the chance to give Elijah a scornful look before scurrying back to your room.

Elijah was watching the whole scene unfold with a surprisingly shocked look on his face. “How is she… Y/n’s so—”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear her fucking name coming out of your mouth,” Namjoon spits, grabbing the adoption papers from his hand.

“Well, how the fuck is she so good to you now?! She’s never like that when she’s with me!” Elijah argues.

“Are you dumb? The reason’s so simple. You didn’t train her properly and all you gave her was abuse. Why have a fucking hybrid in the first place…” he trails off while shaking his head in incredulity. “Now step out of my compound for I might just punch you in the face.”

Elijah immediately felt the chills in the back of his neck from the celebrity’s harsh words. “S-Sorry sir,” he raises his hands in an attempt to defend himself, “It will never happen again.”

“If only you’d apologize to Y/n like that.” Without any more final words, he slams the door shut on Elijah’s dumbfounded face.

The two of you couldn’t be any happier. Namjoon had signed the papers and can officially say that he claims you – in every context as possible. He sees you sitting idly on the couch, your eyes focused on the TV as you watched a Dwayne Johnson action movie. Chuckling at how cute you looked, he can’t seem to focus on the breakfast meal he was cooking.

It was until he feels his phone ring, signaling that there was a caller. He reads the I.D.

‘Kim Taehyung.’

He answers the call, “Hello, good morning, Taehyung!”

“Namjoon,” he starts with a strict, domineering tone, catching Namjoon off-guard, “Check the news. Check the news right now, hyung.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” he panics, leaving the kitchen as he speed-walks to you. You watch him in curiosity as he tries to find the remote. “What’s wrong? Is it about us?!”

“Just take a look!” Taehyung half whispers, and half screams.

Namjoon flips through the channels, ignoring your whine that you abruptly disturbed your movie.

His chest instantly tightens from the news headline.

‘RM from BTS spotted with a cat hybrid, along with an unknown man in front of his doorstep!’

Namjoon’s palms sweat, Taehyung’s voice being muffled out from the thoughts that were slowly eating him alive. Namjoon curses under his breath, feeling a sharp sting in his chest. “Oh god…” he shakes his head, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

The news showed an awfully clear picture of him holding Y/n’s face from yesterday, her tail and ears easily caught in the frame. “Did RM just bought a hybrid?” the female news reported says, “The person who took this photo claims that the man in front of RM looked extremely terrified. What could’ve been their conversation?”

As Namjoon was visibly panicking, not knowing what to do – you on the other hand was thrilled to see such a familiar face on the television screen.

“Master!” you squeal, pointing your index finger at the TV, “You!” Taking a closer look, you squint your eyes. After a couple of seconds later, you gasped. It finally dawned upon you.

“And… me?!”

Sorry if there were any errors. I’ve already read this numerous of times and every time, I somehow find a new typo. Gosh.

Thank you for reading! Your support is genuinely appreciated. Ily guys, take care <3

#namjoon oneshot #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #btssmutcentral #btsguild #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon smut #jimin smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #yoongi smut #namjoon hybrid #bts hybrid #hybrid au

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onelovewonderwoman · 3 years

Text

first class || charles xavier x reader

i’ve been on an x-men binge and fell into a hole of james mcavoy and charles xavier again, so here we are. i haven’t written fics in a long time, so i tried to again. i’m uncreative so like the title is just the first movie because of the fact that it’s set during that time. kind of like self insert cause there’s a few bits and pieces where there’s canonical plot and interactions, so disclaimer for that. anyways, hope you guys enjoy! ps also don’t have enough energy to find a fitting gif so maybe i’ll find one later maybe i won’t. we’ll see

words: 5.8k

warnings: not proofread (i spent three days on this so i don’t have the energy anymore haha), writing lacks emotional depth, drug use and mentions, intent of murder, thoughts of (murder, rape, suicide, etc.), poorly written two paragraphs about kissing, angst, we ignore moira and charles’ romance cause... duh, it’s x reader and it’s too difficult for me to work around it rn a haha

masterlist

The rooms were always the same. They were dark, illuminated only by the dimmest of lights emanating from the occasional lava lamp or fairy lights. Fairy - ironic word for such situations, such rooms. Filled so heavily with smoke it made it hard to breathe, let alone see. And the floors; the floors always felt different.

In hindsight, it was probably the one thing that had her realizing the rooms were never actually the same. Sure, they had the same smell, the same overcrowdedness and moving bodies, the same darkness, even the same taste, but the floors testified to the difference each room held.

Sometimes, when the world would freeze and all the people around her became nothing but a mesh of warm bodies, she could hear the floor creak under her feet with every step she took. There she was - the house right down the street from her.

Other times, the floors felt sticky under her shoes. She assumed it was tequila. There were always too many bottles around to count, surely there would be spills. Or, some poor guy could have pissed himself like that one time. When her shoes sounded like velcro as she walked across the floor, she was at the house all the way across town.

In any case, she felt the same ankle up. One of her favourite parts had to be the way the music always abused her ears - so high, it made her feel lightheaded. More so than she already had been both. Sex was not nearly regular enough for her to compare, but she knew what she would feel every time the music was loud enough to make her head buzz and throb with a vengeance was more erotic than anything anyone could ever do to her.

The place could change but the scene never really did. Down to the people - she knew this for sure. She knew every beating heart around her like they were her own. She never only felt it there, but in her head as well. Even as it buzzed, she felt it. Sometimes it tore at her skull as if trying to escape - ironic.

Now, why did the scene change one evening in 1962? She told herself it was fate, but it had merely been wishful thinking when she knew why. How did she know? She knew the man sitting next to her on the worn down couch, nearly entirely unconscious and reeking of weed and vodka, knew the girl across the house, the girl across the house knew the man next to her and that - so on and so forth - meant she knew all three of them, even though they didn’t know her. So, for two new men to walk into the house, their eyes focused - focused on her - changed the scene entirely.

Now, the music became nothing more than an assault on her ears; the lights became too bright at the same time as the dark became too dark; the air became heavier than usual; and she sobered up at the feeling of something - someone - in her head. Then, it all caved in. It was as overwhelming as it always was, but she was used to it enough to handle it for a little while, at least whilst remnants of her high remained. She couldn’t say the same for the shorter of the two men she saw keel over at the pressure.

He got over it pretty quick, from what she could tell. “Charles Xavier,” he introduced himself as, “This is my colleague, Erik Lensherr.”

A quick trip from the couch to the door had her standing on the lawn of the house of the night with the two men. Crickets could be heard fighting against the sound of the music blaring from the house as she swayed on her feet, making wet sounds in the grass from earlier rain. Charles stood not much taller than her, charm emanating from him and the way his piercing blue eyes seemed to smile despite his furrowed brows and mouth set in a straight line as he stared at her, waiting for a response with his hands tucked into his coat pockets. Erik stood taller, stoic and calculating.

“And?” She crossed her arms across her chest, both in discomfort and the fact that the chilly night air had begun to bite at her skin, her long sleeve doing nothing to help. “I should care why?”

If the incident earlier wasn’t enough, the way the both of them looked at her was enough for her to know why. “What’s your name?” Charles asked, having her notice then the English accent on his tongue.

The second she gave it to him, he smiled - almost sympathetically - at her and hummed, “You have an incredibly busy mind, Y/N.”

“And you have an incredibly nosy one, Charles.” That had Erik letting out a chuckle, one that felt like approval to her ears.

Never in a million years would she dare say yes to anything of the sort the two men proposed to her that night. A team of mutants; not necessarily that she thought it was absurd or a horrible idea - no. It made sense, not factoring in their current climate, to have a team of mutants fighting against the evils of the world. The horrible idea was to have her join. No, she wanted to tell them, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking too,” Erik agreed with her, catching both herself and Charles off guard, “We’ll be going then.”

He offered her his hand. She didn’t know how long she stood there staring at his outstretched arm. Sometimes her high slowed time - it could have been five seconds or five minutes. When she finally looked away from his hand, up at him, she saw he stood unwavered and patient.

“You don’t have to, you know.” Her eyes shot to Charles as he broke the silence. He shook his head, brows still furrowed and mouth set in a straight line. “You’re under no obligation.”

For Charles to know, she understood. He had just been in her mind long enough to know that most of it wasn’t even hers. For Erik to know and offer her his hand made her wonder just how desperate he was to assemble the team - for whatever reason that she was about to find out in a moment.

“We leave now.” Was all he said after he tore his hand from hers.

An hour hasn’t even passed when she found herself on a plane with the two men, mind still buzzing but this time not with a high. This time, with an overwhelming anger and anticipation. The way Erik didn’t make eye contact with her and Charles sent worried glances her way throughout their trip to their “base” was enough to tell her that they knew she had already been briefed on what was happening - the reason behind their assembling of a team. Rather, she knew specifically of the personal motive behind it.

All it made her heart feel like it was beating a mile a minute. It pounded against her chest so hard she was sure at least one of them could hear it. So badly did she want to hide out in the plane’s bathroom and take something to stop the pain, but it was off the table. For now.

Soon enough the flight ended, and she came to find out their “base” was a covert CIA facility where they placed the other mutants they rounded up before her. She just as quickly met and said goodbye to Moira MacTaggert, a CIA officer working with Charles and Erik to stop Shaw. His name alone sent sparks of rage flowing through her veins.

She was left with the group when the three went off that night. There, she came face to face with Raven, Sean, Alex, Hank, Darwin, and Angel - or, Mystique, Banshee, and Havok. Darwin and Angel were “self explanatory”, considering they were already nicknames and described their powers fairly well. Hank was just… Hank.

Her turn came around quickly, once everyone settled down from Alex’s show of his “gift”, when all heads turned to her, sitting at the end of the couch. Raven smiled at her - she liked her, she was sweet - “What about you? What’s your power?”

“I’m,” She paused for a moment, the eyes on her making her anxious and curl into herself hoping, praying, another mutant wouldn’t touch her. “I can move things. With my mind.” She gave a tight smile to Raven and nodded her head, as if to reassure herself. “I can move things with my mind.”

Raven’s smile only widened, excited by either the prospect of her being able to move things with her mind or the opportunity to give her an alias. She assumed it was the latter. She excused herself to the washroom just as Raven asked the group what they thought. “We’ll have one for you once you get back! Promise!” Raven called after her.

Body filled with anticipation, she nearly ran to the washroom, willing the door closed behind her after she entered. It was small, but clean - CIA property after all.

She tried. She really did. Albeit, making contact with a mutant was always the worst; Erik especially. The trauma, the pain, the thoughts. All them clawed at her brain, as though they were tearing through it layer by layer until nothing but them remained within her skull.

Nothing could stop her from taking out the small baggy in her back pocket and tearing it open. Nothing could stop her from taking it, only to feel a rush flow through her. It would take a bit, but soon enough she would stop feeling them gnawing on her very existence. Soon, numbness would wash over her and she could just be no one.

She guessed she was in the washroom for about half an hour. Staring at her reflection, at the floor, at the ceiling, at anything, but when she made her way back to the room, she found it in disarray. Music was blasting from the radio, chairs flipped over, Raven on top of the couch dancing as Hank hung from the ceiling light, the rest of the group messing around with their powers. She couldn’t tell if they were experiencing some high of their own or just happened to have gotten their hands on some alcohol.

“What are you doing? Who destroyed the statue?” Moira’s voice broke her out of the trance she was in watching the group. Slowly, she turned her head to see her, Charles, and Erik walking over as everyone else froze. Moira was angry, that much anyone could tell, but the two men were unreadable.

Hank was the first one to reply back, jumping down the ceiling, panicked, “It was Alex.”

“No. Havok.” Raven seemed to stay unfazed, still standing on the couch with a wide smile on her face. “We have to call him Havok. That's his name now…”

Raven’s words melted away from her. Her focus wasn’t elsewhere; it was simply nowhere at all. She stared at everyone in the room, yet no one at all. So caught up in nothing she didn’t notice Charles himself staring at her until Erik uttered something under his breath and walked away with Moira following, brows furrowed in what looked to be confusion. Just as she caught his eye, he looked away.

Directed at Raven, he spoke firmly, “I expect more from you.”

Not long after, they had gotten word that Shaw would be in Russia, and so she was left with the group of mutants when the three left alongside the CIA to get their hands on him. Before, it would have made her wonder what purpose the group of mutants really served if they didn’t want them there to help. Now, after the incident, she understood why.

By no means were any of them prepared for such a task. She couldn’t claim to be either. She only agreed because she knew a part within her would hate her for not coming and at the very least trying to help.

Just when she thought she and the solemn group couldn’t be any more of a liability, she was proven wrong. Because now Sebastian Shaw stood in front of them, smug and irritating as ever, after having his lackey drop an unsuspecting CIA to his death in front of all of them and cornering them.

“Good evening. My name's Sebastian Shaw, and I'm not here to hurt you.” She was sure she wasn’t the only one assuming he had taken out every single CIA operative in the facility to make it this far; a thought that filled her being with even more dread than she was already feeling at the sight of him. “My friends, there's a revolution coming. When mankind discovers who we are, what we can do, each of us will face a choice. Be enslaved or rise up to rule. Choose freely, but know that if you are not with us, then by definition, you are against us. So, you can stay and fight for the people who hate and fear you. Or you can join me, and love like kings and queens.”

They all watched, both shocked and betrayed when Angel took the hand Shaw outstretched, standing by his side even when he murdered Darwin in his attempt to stop him with Alex. She didn’t see it - she turned away the second Shaw released the energy he’d taken from Alex into Darwin. She heard it, though. The explosion. When she turned back, as Shaw, Angel, and the men he had brought with him retreated, she saw nothing. There was no sign of Darwin; not even a speck of dust.

Suddenly, her chest tightened and the clawing came back.

----------------------------------

The person who happened to almost send them home also happened to be the one who provided them a new place to train their powers for the fight with Shaw. Charles was entirely serious and extremely close to sending them all home; “They’re just kids.” But Erik made it clear to him that they couldn’t be anymore, not after Shaw.

Charles lived, alongside Raven, in a massive mansion that had been entirely too big for her to take in, but it provided the perfect space for them to train their powers. Each of them were assigned rooms by Charles personally that day.

He took the liberty of walking them each there. She didn’t know if it was just her or a Charles thing, but he stayed quiet. Unusual for a man that had so much to say. But then again, with what they’ve already been through, she couldn’t imagine he was feeling very chatty. She certainly wouldn’t have been in his situation. Granted, she would be feeling the same way now, but in her predicament by this point, she wouldn’t mind someone else’s verbal company.

The second he guided her through the bedroom

door, she began to take in the sheer size of the room, feeling bigger than life itself in the way that she was feeling. The bed was even better; huge and looked as though the softness of it would swallow her into a warm hug. Her first instinct would have been to jump right onto it, but the fact that Charles ceased to leave and instead remained planted there, giving her a look she couldn’t make out once she turned to face him, made her fight against her urges.

She opened her mouth in an attempt to utter an “Are you alright?” but never got the chance. Instead, Charles spoke as soon as her mouth opened, slowly, as if to make sure she understood every word he was saying like she had been incapable of doing so before, “Training starts tonight, but I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

With her brows furrowed in confusion, she nodded, and Charles began to walk away. He stopped by the frame of the door, back to her, and spoke again, “Try and get some rest.”

With that, he shut the door behind him. Now, she was left in the room alone, tiredness washing over her. Awaiting the next day, she decided to fall into the cloud that was the bed and fall asleep while she could.

----------------------------------

The next morning was when Charles asked to see her - by Raven. The young woman led her over to a room, an odd dome shaped one, where Charles stood waiting. He wasn’t the same as the night before - uncomfortable, was the only way she knew to describe it - welcoming and encouraging.

“We’ve got plenty of work to do,” Charles spoke, hands in his pockets, as she entered and Raven excused herself elsewhere. Looking around, she could see evidence that training had started last night, namely Alex’s. Dark scuff marks were streaked across walls of the dome on the end farthest from them and small balls of fluff on the floor remained, assumingly left behind in the midst of a quick clean up of training dummies that had been torn open.

Despite the mess, several other objects were placed across the floor. All ranged from light to heavy. Chairs, weights - it looked to be anything he could have been capable of carrying in with the help of the others.

She stopped in front of him. “What’s this?”

The man’s smile widened before he started, rather loudly at that. “Well.” He moved towards the objects then spun around to face her, arms outstretched. “This is the beginning of your training.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking at the man unimpressed. “You want me to move this stuff around?”

“You’re not just moving stuff around.” Charles shook his head, arms dropping to his sides as he declared. “You don’t need to move everything here. I only need to see how much you can handle.” His head tilted as he looked at her, blue eyes meeting her own as his expression retreated to one of curiosity. “And how you handle it.”

She didn’t think the professor was aware of the innuendo within the situation, so she let it go despite the sweet stomach dropping feeling that came over her. Instead, she shrugged. “Then what?”

“Then,” Charles hesitated for a moment, “Erik was able to move a satellite dish. If it happens to be possible-”

“A satellite dish?” She laughed incredulously, “You can be serious.”

Charles nodded towards her, challenging her statements as he took a few steps forward. “And what is it that’s making you believe you’re incapable of doing anything similar?”

“Look.” She shook her head, looking directly at him when she said, “I can move the average household item, shut a door and maybe, just maybe, bust it down, but I couldn’t push your couch across the room, let alone move a fu- a satellite dish.”

Charles’ brows furrowed. “And that’s what you believe?”

She hummed. “That’s what I know.”

“Well,” he sighed, disappointment written across his face that sent her into a spiral, “There’s not much we can do if you don’t believe you can better yourself, is there?”

The second he walked past her was when it felt as though ice water had been spilt onto her. A mixture of confusion and gloom washed over her before she turned to see Charles’ back, still moving towards the door. “What?”

He stopped in his tracks at her exclamation, waiting several moments as if contemplating before he turned back to her. Carefully, he asked, “Why do you take them?”

She shook her head, looking almost offended. “How did you-”

“Your mind,” Charles confirmed, “It gets quieter.”

The offence on her face never ceased, but the uncomfortable mixture of feelings she was overwhelmed with had her shrug in response to his question. Charles only nodded and gave her a tight smile before turning back.

She closed her eyes, resigning herself with huff. She could go back to the life she had come to know and hate, or she could take the second chance he was giving her even if it did include the prospect of some suffering.

“I don’t take them for fun.” The sound of her voice made Charles stop again. This time, he waited. “When I touch a person I don’t just take every experience. I take every memory.”

He turned around to face her once more and gave her nod, signalling her to continue. She breathed in and out. “I see and I feel everything that’s happened to them. That’s a lot and it’s enough, but that’s not why I-”

She cut herself off, feeling herself choke on the words before shaking her head and persisting herself on despite Charles’ look of concern. “I take them because, when I take their memories, I take all of their thoughts too. Every one. So every thought of murder, or rape, or suicide, or any fucked up thing, keeps tearing me apart from the inside out.”

Charles nodded, walking closer to her, choosing his words carefully as he spoke, sympathy written deep in his soft voice, “And they scare you.”

She shook her head. Looking away from him for a moment, she willed away tears she felt gathering. She turned back to him. “The thought of acting on them scares me.”

Although slightly taken aback by the revelation, Charles holds his composure. He nodded before opening his mouth to respond, walking closer as he began.

The only reaction he got was her taking a step back, shaking her head. “I swear I’m not a bad person.” Charles assumed she didn’t want him touching her - considering she took away every thought. “I’m always all these people at once - I don’t even know who I am.”

“Then we will figure it out.” Charles tilted his head, making sure her eyes met his when she attempted to look away. His voice was soft and reassuring to her ears, even if she didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “You aren’t alone, Y/N.”

As it turns, the drugs were having a large effect on her ability to use her powers - the next few days told her as much. By no means was she capable of moving a satellite dish, but she had been able to take her powers to lengths she never thought she could have been able to.

Most of it was due to Charles - he’d spent most of the next few days with her, pushing her, sometimes to the point where she’d snap at him. She always calmed, though, and Charles always remained coolheaded.

Still, they grew closer. Or at least she grew closer to him. She couldn’t tell if the praise, the laughs, the banter, and the willingness to come back together after a fight only meant something to her. She hoped it did - because why else wouldn’t he just give up on her? All that time spent on advancing her powers to defeat Shaw, and he still talked about helping her as though their relationship would continue past this mission.

Part of her wanted to touch him so she could just know. Even if he hadn’t taken such a liking to her as she had him, at the very least try to understand him in his entirety and make a space for herself in his life. Then, another part of her was horrified at what she would find in there.

For the time being, there wasn’t much opportunity to dwell on it. The day they would head out was coming soon, and Erik suggested the group get a good night’s rest. They would all need it.

With her luck, she didn’t know why she thought that sleep would come easy that night. Whether it was due to adrenaline, anxiety, or anything else, didn’t matter. Because whatever was keeping her up had her pacing the hallways of Charles’ estate that night.

She wasn’t looking for it, but instead happened upon a conversation.

“… no difference. Shaw’s declared war on mankind. On all of us. He has to be stopped.” She heard Charles’ voice through a door as she passed by. Although knowing that he could probably make out the sound of her mind from a mile away, she still stopped by it. She grew even more curious when she heard Erik’s voice.

“I'm not gonna stop Shaw. I'm gonna kill him. Do you have it in you to allow that?” A moment of silence passed and she shifted on her feet. It made the floor creek. She shut her eyes and bit her lip, nervous, expecting to hear the sound of one of their footsteps coming to open the door and catch her eavesdropping. Whether they heard or not, she didn’t know as Erik continued on, “You've known all along why I was here, Charles. But things have changed. What started as a covert mission, tomorrow mankind will know that mutants exist. Shaw, us, they won't differentiate. They'll fear us. And that fear will turn to hatred.”

“Not if we stop a war,” Charles’ voice wavered on a line of urgency and assurance, “Not if we can prevent Shaw. Not if we risk our lives doing so.”

Charles very well could have been doing nothing but reassuring Erik with his words, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually trying to reassure himself. As if the world wouldn’t either discard or abuse them once they’ve served their purpose of their betterment.

“Will they do the same for us?”

“We have it in us to be the better men.”

“We already are.” Erik’s voice quickly turned from calm to urgent when he next spoke. “We're the next stage of human evolution. You said it yourself!”

“No, no!” She heard Charles attempt to cut Erik off before he sighed. She could practically hear the disappointment in it, although she couldn’t say she felt the same. He only let Erik continue.

“Are you really so naive as to think that they won't battle their own extinction?” She heard him pause. “Or is it arrogance?”

“I’m sorry?” As if Charles had misheard him.

She shifted on her feet once more as their voices became more hushed, despite the feeling coming from the room becoming more hostile than calm. This time, she was more careful. Nothing made a sound below her feet when she moved closer to the door, pressing her ear against it, as well as her left palm for support.

“After tomorrow, they're gonna turn us. But you're blind to it, because you believe they're all like Moira.”

“And you believe they're all like Shaw.” Came Charles’ immediate response. Calmly, she heard him continue, “Listen to me very carefully my friend. Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

Erik’s voice never wavered when he told Charles, “Peace was never an option.”

Footsteps came far too fast for her to move away from the door. In a split second, she found herself leaning against the door to crashing into Erik’s chest when he pulled the door open. For a moment, Erik stood staring down at her, watching her attempt to recompose herself and attempt to apologize. She didn’t get a word out before he moved past her and walked away.

She watched his form retreat before she turned back to the room. Standing in the doorway, she saw Charles sitting in the chair facing away from her. With his eyes closed and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, “You realize I can hear your mind from across this house?”

She took a step in, almost reluctantly. She didn’t imagine Charles would be content with anything she had to say, but maybe she could make him understand. “Erik’s right, you know.”

Her words had Charles’ eyes snap open. He got out the chair, setting down the drink he was nursing on the table next to him, before he turned to face her. “Excuse me?”

“Peace isn’t an option ‘cause we’re never gonna get peace.” She shook her head, desperation in both her voice and eyes as she stared into his. “Erik thinks they’re gonna turn on us. They might not, but it doesn’t mean any of us will get any peace. They won’t all be like Shaw, they won’t all be like Moira, but most of them - most of them will just be human. They’ll fear us and they’ll judge us. It doesn’t matter how harmless we are or not.”

She watched as Charles took a step forward, his head tilting to the side, expression unreadable as his voice remained calm. “You can’t be serious.” It was a statement - a wrong one.

“Shaw needs to die,” She spoke with assurance. She felt her eyes fill with tears, Charles watching her suck in a breath and release as he began to walk closer to her, before she spoke in a whisper, no longer trusting her voice, “Shaw needs to die for what he did to us. We’re going to kill him, Charles.”

They’re faces we’re merely inches apart, chilling her to the bone as he looked at her. What she thought he would never do is what he tried the second he began to raise his hand, speaking quickly to her when he asked, “Us?”

His hand almost cupped her cheek when she turned her head away from it. Immediately, his hand froze. Charles watched her profile as more tears welled up in her eyes and her lips began to tremble. Voice weak and tearful, staring away from him, she pleaded, “Please don’t confuse me. I can’t-”

“I know you feel it,” Charles’ other hand came up to guide her face back to him despite her, whispering carefully, “But it is not your cross to bear.”

His hand was warm against her cheek. Comforting - enough to make her mind go blank. Wishful thinking, of course, because soon the clawing in her head would come back with a vengeance at having a man such as Charles touch her. For now, though, he felt safe. Stable. Enough so that she could close her eyes for a moment and let the tears fall as he leaned down to her and let his forehead press against hers.

“You can’t help but feel his pain,” She felt his breath against her lips as he spoke, his voice the same soft and soothing as she’s known it to be, “But you can decide what you do with it.”

She shook her head gently and pulled away, but still letting Charles’ hand rest against her cheek. “It’s not just-” she whispered to him, mouth feeling dry as her eyes avoided his, trying to piece her thoughts together. His hand slid down to the base of her neck, guiding her eyes to his. She licked her lips before she swallowed. “I barely knew Darwin, but he killed him right in front of us. And it was cruel and scary and I couldn’t even make myself look at it when it happened.”

“I know.” Charles brought his other hand up to brush away slow falling tears she hadn’t even known began to escape. He voiced nothing but concern, letting her continue as if he knew what she was going to say next.

Her hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, not to pull his hands away from her, but to simply hold onto them. Almost as if they were an anchor to make up for the tears she now felt were falling faster down her face as she realized. “For the first time, I think I want something, I feel this anger and fear, because of my head. I saw it first and I felt it first. It’s mine, and now I have a real responsibility to take care of it.”

“Not with murder.” Her hands tightened around his wrists as he brought her face closer to his own. A frown on his face as he desperately told her, “I meant it when I told you that we would figure this out together. You told me you were never your own person, that you don’t even know yourself. We were - we are - going to bring you into existence. I beg you, Y/N, don’t let yourself be brought into this world as a murderer.”

His words, as beautiful as they were, only half registered within her brain. All she found herself focusing on then was how close he was. She would think back later and come to realize that it was because the only thing making her tears stop and giving her the will not to commit a murder was the prospect of approval she would get from a man like him. From someone who could never understand her struggle, someone who never tried to or tried to make her feel as though there was some way out. From someone who wanted to build on it and show her the strength she could find within it.

Realistically, she knew he would have a few words for her if she ever outwardly admitted to him that she used approval as a means for bettering herself, but it was the best she could do at the time being.

Charles’ brows furrowed as he watched her face, spaced out and regarding him with an expression not even he could read. Somewhere deep down, though, he knew he had gotten through to her. His lips curled up slightly, speaking lowly with amusement evident in his voice, “Now where did you go?”

Her eyes shot from his lips to his eyes once more. As quick as they made eye contact, she leaned forward to press her lips against his. Lips soft, she kissed him carefully, one hand moving to cup his face. Only in the last few moments did he respond to it by kissing back.

She pulled away, looking at him nervously and letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in. Her mouth was dry again. “I’m sorry-”

She was cut off by Charles’ lips on hers once more. She kissed back instantly, sighing into the kiss in content. Feeling Charles smirk against her lips and deepen the kiss, she put both hands behind his neck, pulling his body closer to hers. He took her lower lip between his teeth, pulling slightly as he let his hands trail down her body to her waist, pulling her to make sure there wasn’t the slightest gap between their bodies.

Their lips broke apart, but only long enough to allow for a quick breath. Charles pushed his lips back into hers as her hands snaked down to the collar of his dress shirt, playing carefully with the top button.

Eventually, their lips broke apart as they caught their breath. Bodies still pressed together, Charles leant forward to rest his forehead onto hers, her eyes still close, for a moment before pressing a kiss to it. He placed his chin on top of her head and rested there, her head resting against the crook of his neck as she felt him - anticipating what it would feel like to feel nothing but him.

#x-men #x-men first class #x-men days of future past #x-men apocalypse #x-men dark phoenix #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier imagine #charles xavier one-shot #x-men imagine #x-men one-shot #charles xavier #erik lensherr #raven #mystique #sean #angel #hank mccoy #james mcavoy #michael fassbender

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ikevamp-shrine · 4 years

Note

May I ask H, O, R, N, Y for Arthur 👀?

I’m dying😂 this is perfect. Thank you for requesting this- it made my day. H has already been done here. Please enjoy.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Arthur rather enjoys receiving oral, especially when it’s by you. He can’t help but bite his lip to restrict the moans slipping past his swollen lips as you take him all the way. He can’t help but slither his fingers through your strands to grip loosely at the roots as you gag around his throbbing cock. He can’t help but shiver with need, his eyes rolling back as you grip his pulsing balls, sucking at the dripping head of his dick.

He’s addicted to the way your lashes clump together as tears form in your eyes. He’s addicted to the way you hum, encouraging him to shoot his pearl cum onto your awaiting tongue. He’s addicted to the way you appear so powerful as you stand, pushing him back onto the sheets; your nails having left furious red lines across his thighs.

But, don’t underestimate the pleasure he gets from getting you off with his tongue. And god, the way you taste as you release your pleasure onto his tongue and lips makes him shake with anticipation each time you spread your legs. The finest delicacy, according to the writer himself.

He will have you going limp with euphoria as he swirls his tongue, sucking at the flushed flesh of your core, thrusting his wet appendage into any tight little hole he can fit it in. He is a god in the sheets when it comes to knowing your body. Do not go to bed with him unless you want to be screaming and crying by the end of your sensual tango of lust.

R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s a horny freak- of course he willing to experiment and take all the necessary risks to get you moaning and trembling beneath him.

“Easy now poppet- moan any louder and the others might start searching for your sweet song,” husked Arthur’s low and dangerous voice. The syllables of his words curled with a sensual mischief. His fingers dug into your hips leaving small, oval, red marks over the dips of your body to join the bright, puckering hand print rising on your bottom. The nips and bite marks along your shoulder blades stung with a burning fury.

Each thrust of Arthur’s hips against yours sent your body further into the couch, your ass wiggling in the air as your teeth gnawed at the plush cushions. You groaned, eyes rolling closed, lashes fluttering with pleasure, “… Art-Arthur- too deep.”

Your mumbles were practically incoherent, your thoughts a jumbled mess as Arthur continued to steadily pound into you at a pace that made your toes curl and stomach tighten.

“Remember your safe word luv.” Chided Arthur, his hand flattening against your lower back forcing your spine to arch like a work of exquisite architecture.

Drool slipped from your lips, shivers shooting down your arms at the thought of Arthur rolling his cock into you on the couch in the game room. Such a public place. So many opportunities for any of the men in the mansion to walk in and get an eye full of flushed, naked skin and euphoric moans slithering through the air.

“Such a naughty little bird you are,” Arthur chuckled, never slowing his rutting, a groan tumbling past his parted, panting mouth.

“Damn,” he hissed, his sharp expel of breath floating over your straining muscles, “you’re so tight… fuck- ah, I’m gonna-,”

Arthur’s fangs were on full display as he let his head fall back, his hair dripping with sweat, his abs flexing while he rolled his hips, hitting you deep in your heat.

His moans of climax sent you stumbling over the edge of pleasure; your nails clawing wildly at the soft fabric wet with a mix of yours and Arthur’s bodily fluids while your walls convulsed and clamped around the thick cock jutting into your spread legs. A wicked tremble set itself deep within your bones, your lungs heaving with the ecstasy running through you.

Arthur slumped over your form, his lips delicately covering the marks marring your flesh, his humorous whispers thickly laced with lust, “you did so well. Now, let’s hurry up and cart you away, else the wolves will incircle and snatch you up.”

N = no (something they wouldn’t do, turnoffs)

Do not be hateful. Arthur is the type of man that would say, “I just don’t particularly appreciate how you treat others around you,” and then he would go out of his way to avoid you. He likes kindness, he likes selflessness, he likes to be surrounded by people who make it their personal mission to work hard, put a smile on their face, and be the best they can for themselves and the others around them. He might think he doesn’t deserve to be in the presence of such a person, but it is his addiction. He can’t help but feel like he is being physically pulled to stay by their side. When he sees hatefulness, and downright rudeness without reason he just wants to wash his hands of them.

Another turn off is being told he is what he has always thought himself as- a waste of space. He needs reassurance that you do love him, so please, don’t break his heart with horrid words.

Arthur would never hurt you even if you asked him to, physically or mentally. He might try but it will physically hurt his heart to do so. He would more than likely end up breaking down before sobbing into your embrace as he whispers of the love he holds towards you. He just loves you too much to be the hand of pain against your flesh. He is okay with biting, scratching, and spanking but anything too gory or (what he would imagine as) painful is just too much for him. He’s a soft soul, a sensitive heart, and a caring mind- don’t make him hurt you.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

The mystery author is known far and wide for his sex drive. He fucks like a rabbit and will not stop until you beg him to do so. He will always take your health and needs into account before his, but do not tease him or call him a ‘good boy’ unless you don’t want to be leaving the bed for several hours.

If he could, Arthur would never leave your embrace, and trust me- he has tried.

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen series #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevam #ikevam abcs smut #ikevamp abcs smut #ikemen vampire abcs smut #ikevamp arthur #ikevam arthur #ikevam fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #ikevam fanfic

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heyitsjay03 · 3 years

Text

Aeipathy: Chapter Two

Disclaimer: i don’t (unfortunately) own Marvel or any of their characters, plot points, etc. so all right are to them and their our overlord Disney

AN: yeahhhh this one’s a shorty but i promise the next one will be longer and filled with plot and angst and shit so prepare yourselves <3

Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

TW: angst, mentions of torture, mentions of murder/arson, HYDRA collectively is a prick

Chapter One is available here!

Gnawing.

It claws through my body on all fours. Tearing, ripping, hacking, burning.

Monstrous fangs that sink into the deepest parts of muscle- I can feel it in my bones, the burning.

There is no noise, just the sound of whirring and the unholy screeching of demons in my ears. Faceless demons, demons whose faces have too much detail, demons that stare, demons that scream. Demons, demons, demons.

I have fallen. Fallen from grace. Fallen from…

No, no.

I am falling.

Something catches me. A savior in blue. Scarlet red smeared across their chest. Blood. My blood- the blood of sinners and saints and bystanders. Of children and ancients and of rich and poor.

There’s white streaked between the red. Piety. Purity. Righteousness. Desperately, I cling to the stark white stripes. Indecipherable mumbles pass my lips as I stare at the white. I beg for purity, to be clean again.

Every time I wake up, it’s always the same.

The immovable weight in my body. The unceasing shivering. The bite of frost. The writhing of filth in my veins. In my nerves. In every fiber of my being. Festering. Growing. Rotting. Corrupting. Remembering.

But why can’t I remember?

All I can remember are the demons. Faceless, nameless but never silent. Always screaming.

Screaming, screaming, screaming.

I cling to the white. The righteousness of my savior. Solidity in turbulence. Silence in cacophony. Purity. Cleanliness. Life.

I cling to life.

But life burns under my fingertips. It shrieks and squirms under my touch- tries to escape. Repelled by my presence, it retracts away from my grasp.

Color retracts into shapes as I take in my surroundings. An almost completely empty room completely made of concrete. A single contraption behind me made of metal. Icy fog slithers out of the open door, hissing and flicking at my ankles.

Words, however, remain blurred. The savior holds me upright- pulls me to my feet. Everything burns and aches. I’m so incredibly cold. Frosted water paints my skin, coats my clothes to my body. A puddle gathers beneath the writhing fog.

This seems familiar.

My eyes turn up towards my savior. The blood-stained guardian. Words fall from their lips, landing on deaf ears.

My body trembles as the cold becomes more vicious with its fangs. The savior turns away and says something. Everything is muffled- faraway and distant and like someone has their hands clamped down over my ears.

“Why am I awake?” I ask, straightening up. Every inch of me quivers while every part of me wishes to stop.

But I was awoken for a purpose. My mission.

And I’ll complete it.

Hail HYDRA.

Location: S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters

Date: 2012

“Woah, easy, ________,” I mutter, holding her upright. Her eyes wide, they flick around the room. Her hands grip my chest as she shakes violently.

She’s here. She’s alive.

She… she died. Died on that table- how is this…

“Steve,” Tony mutters, holding out a blanket. I take it and start to wrap it around her shoulders.

As her glazed eyes lock with mine, I look over her face. She’s drained of color- blue and white. Her chapped blue lips open and close violently.

Hoarsely, she starts to speak.

But not anything I can understand.

Over and over, she repeats questions with her eyes wide and wary of every moment and movement. My eyes dart over to Tony- who watches ________, his eyebrows furrowed.

Russian.

That’s what she’s speaking. Russian. And fluently. Extremely well. Why… Why is she…?

“She didn’t… usually speak like this, did she?” Tony asks, gesturing vaguely to her as she continues to shake in my arms. Broken words off a stolen tongue hiss past her lips. She furrows her eyebrows as she looks between the two of us.

“Her files told me she was-” Tony continues.

“She’s… she’s never spoken this before,” I mutter, adjusting my grip under her arms. “Raised in Brooklyn for most’a her life- I dunno why-”

“V chem... moya missiya?” ________ hisses, her voice shaking. I look down and watch her straighten up on unsteady legs. “V chem moya missiya?”

“...why is she…?” Tony mutters, stepping in front of her. He lets his head fall back with a sigh as he taps his leg with his finger. “It’s been a long time, let’s see if I can do this.” Rolling his shoulders back and snapping his neck, he focuses back on ________. “Kto ty?”

________’s head tilts to the side slightly. Her eyebrows furrow further as she glares at him through them. “...Hetaerae. V chem moya missiya?”

Tony sighs and closes his eyes as he speaks. “Ch… chto… ty. Chto ty?”

Her eyes glaze over as she stops shaking, standing upright. “Ya HYDRA.”

“...she’s… She died, Tony. I don’t… I don’t know what else to tell you,” I mutter, looking up from the desk. “She… she died before I even got the serum. I hadn’t even seen Doctor Erskine- Bucky… he hadn’t been shipped off to Europe yet.”

“I may be able to help explain that,” Tony says as he gets to his feet. In his hand is a thick folder filled with papers and photos and notes and scraps of paper. He places it in front of me with a thud. “Apologies- I would opt for the digital version but, uh… you… don’t even know what... that… is.”

“Tony,” I say sharply as I open the folder. He just shrugs and sits down across the table again. The top paper is mostly blacked-out with a few words left untouched. ________’s name. Her age. Her parents and their causes and dates of death. And other words that… don’t make sense. ‘Mistress’. ‘Replication’. ‘Improvement’. ‘Rejected’. ‘Baroness’. ‘Salbei’.

‘Hetaerae’.

Repeated over and over throughout the sea of black streaks is that word. ‘Hetaerae’. At the very bottom of the page in tiny letters are the words ‘Project Samsara- Hetaerae’. In the corner is a skull with tentacles writhing beneath it. ‘HYDRA’ is written along the curve of the skull.

My stomach churns. If HYDRA really is behind this then...

I start tearing into the folder. Photos of the various angles of the steel container from when I woke up. Under it is a handwritten note. ‘Cryo-container; Vrsn: Hetaerae’.

Another photo- this one of a chair. On the armrests and legs are cuffs, along with another one on the back of the chair. Something metal comes around the chair. It juts off the side of a machine and looms over it like an archway. A note is written over the photo. ‘Neck brace may prematurely terminate subject. Issue logged during first programming session’.

Another blacked-out stack of papers. The same words are repeated over and over again. ‘Hetaerae’, ‘Baroness’, ‘Samsara’, ‘Salbei’, ‘HYDRA’. My fists clench the papers before tossing them to the side. Tony watches in silence.

What the Hell is this? What were they doing- what did ________ have to do with it?

My eyebrows furrow as I manically flip through the papers. Papers fly to the side as I tear through the folder. I can feel myself getting rigid as I near the end.

Nothing. I’ve learned nothing. Not a single goddamn thing. There’s nothing here-

My hands stop as my eyes rest on the last few items. A file not blacked out. It’s completely intact. Nothing scratched, no scribbles, no hasty lines cutting through words. I snatch it and start reading.

Project Samsara; Hetaerae

Subject Name: ________ Bishop

Subject Age: 26

Subject Info:

Daughter of Leon Bishop (deceased) and Catherine Chambers (deceased)

Resident of Brooklyn, NY

Military background

Non-combatant medic

Attempted pilot training

Worked under Doctor Akin Nachtnebel- HYDRA researcher

Personal friend of Captain Steven G. Rogers, Sergeant James B. Barnes, political activist Odessa Lily Mae Ababio

Official status: Deceased

Simplified Process Log (see file 178953 for detailed logs):

Day 1:

Body retrieved by HYDRA.

Blood and tissue samples taken.

Heart/respiration rates taken.

Note: Hetaerae seems to be semi-lucid. May require sedation.

Day 13:

Serum incubation complete.

Visible changes in body structure internal and external.

Bone density increased slightly, muscle mass increased, other changes to be tested.

Day 23:

Regen. abilities test positive

Enhanced reflexes test positive

Body modifications test optimal

Note: Hetaerae seemed to negatively respond to pain. Possible weakness. Must train to not respond.

Day 68:

First programming session prematurely terminated. Hetaerae reacted negatively to programming.

Admitted to medical wing.

Near strangulation and bruised trachea.

Removing neck cuff on programming station and attempting again tomorrow.

Day 100:

Programming temporarily successful.

Hetaerae could not recall set of numbers given pre-programming for forty minutes.

Memory wipe testing will continue.

Day 173:

Hetaerae admitted to medical wing for treatment.

Major vocal cord damage.

Damage not irreversible.

Memory wipe testing will continue.

Note: Hetaerae begged for ‘Steve’ and ‘Bucky’ repeatedly during memory wipe. More research needed.

Day 234:

Three guards admitted to medical wing.

Hetaerae had clawed at their eyes, noses, ears, and mouths

Broken nails were taken from guards’ faces.

Admitted samples for research.

Extra-long memory wipe testing done.

Hetaerae will be allowed a day to rest after strenuous session. Cannot allow for subject’s termination.

Day 250:

Near disaster.

Hetaerae attempted escape.

Four guards killed. Two more seriously injured.

Must increase security.

Note: Hetaerae lethal before combat training. A promising candidate. Akin, in his paranoia, chose well.

Day 276:

Hetaerae broke free of restraints during memory wipe.

Too exhausted to attempt escape.

Memory wipe has prevented Hetaerae from remembering subject name.

Will begin codeword implantation process tomorrow.

Day 342:

Hetaerae begins Samsara training tomorrow.

Complete memory wipe achieved.

Hetaerae is the only thing within subject.

Day 3658:

Samsara training complete.

Winter Soldier co-training complete.

Complete memory wipe complete.

Codeword implantation complete.

Hetaerae to be placed in cryo to await orders.

Hail HYDRA.

HYDRA status: Active. Ready for use.

“Look at her track record,” Tony mutters, sliding a thick wad of papers over to me. Turning away, I shake my head. “...fine. I’ll read it for you.” He huffs, flipping through the various pages. “Uh… her first mission was to…” he scoffs, “To take out a mid-level politician that had apparently laid his eyes on something he shouldn’t have. ‘Mission: success, target: terminated’.”

“Tony…” I warn quietly, my shoulders getting tenser with each word.

“A few missions later, she’s retrieving lab samples and… and destroying the lab... Fourteen people killed. ‘Mission: success, targets: terminated’.”

“Tony.”

“I’m skimmin’ here, Cap, but listen- an orphanage in Saint Petersburg, a… a couple in Prague, a woman in Athens, a man in Cairo...” Tony continues skimming through the pages. “‘Mission: success, target: terminated’, ‘Mission: success, target: terminated’, ‘Mission: success, target: terminated’-”

“Enough!” I snap, turning to look at him.

Tony sighs and puts the papers down. Running a hand down his face, he purses his lips. “Dunno how else t’tell ya this, Cap- she’s dangerous. She has killed hundreds of people. She can speak seven languages, she can infiltrate a political atmosphere and topple it, she can... camouflage in any… social situation, she has a perfect kill record... Whoever she was before-”

“She’s still in there,” I cut in. “She’s still in there.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Are… are you not... hearing what I’m telling you?” He gestures to the original folder. “They laid into her for… ten years. Subjected her to torture. Wiped her slate clean. Whatever was in there, pal, it’s long gone.”

A huff leaves my lips. “...you don’t know what she was like,” I mumble coldly, reminiscing over what it was like to live with her, to live with her at my side like I was at hers. “She was… the most... hard-headed… stubborn dame I’d ever met. And strong, too.”

“Rogers-”

“She’s still in there, Tony,” I snap, my eyes flicking up to him. “She’s strong.”

“Good morning.” I say, waving at ________ as she sits on the chair. Her breathing is steady, eyes trained on the opposite side of the room. Her wrists are handcuffed to the armests- the same with her ankles. They clink slightly as she breathes.

The room is completely empty except for another chair across from hers. My shield lays against the chair- ‘a precaution’ Fury called it.

‘A threat’ is what I would call it.

I step further into the room and sit down on the chair. With glazed eyes, she watches me. “Are… those too tight?” I ask, gesturing to the cuffs.

She says nothing. Only blinks in response.

She… she looks so empty.

Her face was always glowing, her smile illuminating the clinic when Buck and I would walk in to bring her lunch or just to bug her. Letters would flood in every now and then from past patients or their families, thanking her for her patience and kindness. She would keep them all in a shoebox under her bed.

And her hands. She would wrap bandages around my wounds with care. She’d always tell me to not get it in my head to fight again… and then ask where the punks lived so she could ‘pay them a visit’. Her hands were always feather-soft when checking every injury’s progress.

Now they look… darker. Not in color but just… darker.

Stained.

Did she know what she was doing when she killed those people?

________ shifts slightly, the sound of the handcuffs pulling me out of my head. I clear my throat and straighten up. “...do you know who I am?” I ask quietly.

No response.

“Do you know who you are?”

“Haetarae.” She answers, eyes still glazed.

“Do you… do you know who you actually are?”

________’s eyes narrow for just a moment. “...HYDRA.”

“No. No,” I mutter, pointing to my chest. “...do you know who I am?”

...nothing.

“Steve. I’m Stevie. We… we grew up in Brooklyn together. With Bucky. We, um… Buck ‘nd I, we helped you out of a fight when you were thirteen. That’s how we met… you… remember that…?”

She blinks, eyes scanning over me.

Getting up from my seat, I reach into my pocket and tug a photo of the three of us out of my pocket. It was taken after she had gotten her nursing credentials. We had gone out dancing, just the three of us. We found someone willing to take our photo. A smile crosses my lips as I look down at it.

Colors start to fade into the black and white photo. Every detail is so crisp. ________’s chin is resting on my head as she stands behind me- a bright, red-lipped smile on her face. Her arms are wrapped around my chest as she leans over. Her hair is done perfectly- up with roses in her hair. Neat and tidy like she practiced. The skirt of her dress is the same shade of red as her lips. Black dots pattern the fabric of the skirt. The bodice was black- matching her heels. Hooked through her elbows was a creme-colored fur boa.

Bucky’s got his arm around her waist and he ducks down to my level. He holds a pressed black suit, wearing a red undershirt. His suit jacket is hung over his shoulder with his undershirt’s sleeves rolled up. I remember him shining his shoes that day while ________ meticulously placed roses in her hair. Bucky had sewn and hemmed my pants with pride. ‘It’s a special day, punk’, he mumbled with the needle between his lips, ‘can’t have ya trippin’ on your pant legs.’

She shifts again and I’m pulled right back into now. ________ sits in front of me. No smile, no roses, no brightness. And Bucky… Bucky’s dead and gone. Lost a long, long time ago. Slowly, I hold out the photo. “...see?” I mumble, “That’s me… before I… had a growth spurt. And that’s Buck.”

I look up to her. She’s focused on the photo, eyes slightly squinted and head tilted to the side just barely. “...Buck ‘nd you,” I laugh quietly. “He… he was… so crazy about you. He just… never realised it.”

The door behind us cracks open. Her body snaps tightly, eyes back to glazed. Tony peeks his head into the room and tilts it back. “Eyepatch wants you.”

I sigh. Looking back at ________, I tuck the photo into her hand. Slowly, her fingers wrap around it delicately. I nod once and start out of the room. As the door swings shut, I spare one last look. ________ looks down at the photo, her head slightly tilting once more.

“It may be our only option,” Fury sighs. “She’s unpredictable at best.”

“She’s still in there- if I can just… keep talking with her-”

“That is out of the question,” he says firmly, eye flicking up to me. “...you’re too close on this one, Rogers. I’m making the executive decision to-”

Lights start to flash overhead- red and screaming. A wailing buzz rips out of the hallway as the red light bathes us in scarlet. The door slams open, Tony standing in the doorway, panting. Fury slowly gets out of his seat, eye wide.

“She… She got out,” Tony mutters, gesturing outside.

My body launches forward as I run into the hallway. People are running, an anxious chatter swarming around them as they pass just in front of me. As I push into the main hallway, elbows and chests are thrown into me. Flicking to each person, my eyes catch the room where ________ was held. The door is almost completely torn off the hinges- the wood cracked at the handle.

I start to push through the sea of people. Like water, they throw themselves against me- eager to leave the building and get the hell out of harm’s way. But as I make my way to the door and push out the other side of the tempest, I can see the dangling cuffs still hanging around the armrests.

My fingers graze the splintering wood door, tracing the ridges of where her fingers had dug into the wood- leaving grooves in the shape of her hand. The hinges look relatively new as they hang lifelessly off the wall. The debris littering the floor is kicked around, leaving a partial trail down the hallway. I follow with a solid grip on my shield.

“________?” I hiss, looking around the empty hallway. Everything is dimmed by the red lights and the screaming of the alarms haven’t stopped. “________!”

I round a corner and every adrenaline-fueled tension melts away. At the very end of the hallway is a floor-to-ceiling window. Broken glass lays at the base of a gaping hole.

She’s gone.

#captain america #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #captain america x platonic!reader #eventual relationship #slow burn #angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #series #nick fury #tony stark

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

Note

for anyone you'd like, maybe 2, 17, 19, 30? 👀

YOU! IT'S YOU! The one who hath done me a great service! >:D *sends all the hugs!* So, you wish to hear me ramble some more, do you? Welcome to the fountain that is my fingers then! Let's talk about some children! >:3

2. Is your oc picky about food? What kinds of foods do they like and dislike? What do they consider a comfort or “safe” food?

Can I tell you something about Fane and food? He loves it when he makes himself eat it. The boy literally doesn't eat sometimes because one: his stomach is in constant distress due to vomiting almost every morning (doesn't happen all the time, but enough to cause some damage), and two: he believes he doesn't deserve to enjoy food, so when he does eat and actually finds comfort with it, his appetite disappears. However! That means Fane isn't especially picky about his food! He does have favorites though! I'll list them!

Likes:

Meat (any kind, really, but Fane does enjoy ram and deer meat especially.)

Fruit (mainly apples, has fond memories of them and he likes the CRUNCH.)

Nuts (particulary almonds because they have a sweet after taste and CRUNCH.)

Dried meats (Fane likes the rip and tear action when eating them and it gives himself something to continuously gnaw on.)

Cakes, cookies, pies, etc. (He likes bite sized cakes. Yes, frilly cakes. Blame Solas. He adores peanut butter cookies. Bonus if there's any chocolate on them. And he really, really likes blueberry pie! Again, sweet!)

Dislikes:

Spicy foods of any kind (Snow dragon + spicy foods = DEATH TO EVERYONE WITHIN A FIVE MILE RADIUS. Also, tongue goes bleh and then he can't taste anything for a while.)

Vegetables (Fane eats vegetables sparingly. The boy is a DRAGON, not a rabbit.)

Bitter foods (the exception to this is coffee and dark chocolate which Fane can't live without.)

Impartial to cheese (Fane's okay with cheese, but the tang makes him scrunch up his nose most of the time. Especially Orlesian made cheeses.)

All in all, Fane is pretty plain jane. He eats to survive, and it isn't until later in the story that he learns that he can enjoy food and not be guilty about it.

17. If your oc had a social media page, what would it be like? What would they post about? How much personal information would they feel comfortable posting on it? How often would they update it?

AHAHAH! Fane? Social media?! Honestly, Fane would be that type of person that makes a social media page just to shut up someone else! They'd be like, "You should do this! It's the big thing right now!" Meanwhile, five thousand year old dragon is like, "I don't understand any of this shit. Why is half the words abbreviated?! A ten year old is on here?! This world is fucking trash." Secretly, Fane is a lurker and would just have a page to snoop on other people and silently rag on them. Not directly trolling, but he'd be like, "Solas, come here. These people are fucking ridiculous! Like who the hell thinks it's okay to eat soap?! Where the hell did we go wrong?!" and Solas is just happy Fane's found a hobby that doesn't involve destroying a wall.

So, really, Fane would only have page to have a page. He wouldn't personalize it nor would he put any information besides his name on it. And if anything, Fane would be a meme lord and just post memes all day long. He resonates with them, he thinks. Also, A LOT of dark humor. Fane is...intense. Let's leave it at that. Pfft.

19. How would an enemy describe this oc?

Absolutely terrifying. I mean, do you want a six foot, athletic muscled, white haired, two toned eyed, great sword wielding, and a penchant for kicking elf-dragon bearing down on you? With eyes that seemingly shift and morph into different colors and a snarl from elven lips that made you think there was actually a dragon about to snap your head off? Or a boot that slams into a breastplate so hard that it cracks pure silverite down the middle? Do you want to watch as a pale face that looks dark with battle induced anger and adrenaline twist from an ancient insanity that put most 'madmen' to shame? Do you want to see the blood splatter across that same face, eyes dark and bright all at once as one of your fellows is cleaved in two and all that face does is watch with utter boredom until those two toned eyes land on you? Do you want to feel the sensation of dread, panic, and pure terror as a large frame that shouldn't be able to move with such graceful, fluid movements, but does as it slams you into a wall, once sturdy bricks crumbling to fall upon you as those same soul delving eyes just watch without missing a beat?

Do you want to die with a hand in your chest as a spectral, blue claw splits your chest open, letting you observe and accept that the end is near? No? Well, then, don't dance with the Dragon of the Dread Wolf unless you know the steps. *tips my hat* Good day.

30. Tell a random fact about this oc!

Random fact, random fact...hmm. Ah! Well, just for a little treat, a little tease for late story, I'll share something that'll make for some speculation, but won't give anything away. *clears throat*

Fane has the capacity to harness a portion of an Old God's soul. *smiles pleasantly before walking away*

And there we are! :D Thank you for the ask! Always love them! <3

#oc: fane lavellan #asks #dragon age #go on speculate on that last one #*cackles manically*#that enemy description one was FUN ngl #fane is intimidating and scary and very very violent in battle #outside of it he's just sad though and eats cake and researches dragons :3 #very feral either way though XD #thank you again!

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watchforstars · 5 years

Text

Bonding With Red- RotTMNT fanfic

@fanfic-inator795

“For a prompt: What things did Splinter do to bond with his boys when they were turtle tots (what games/activities did he do with them, did he have something special for each of them or did he do the same thing with all of them, etc.)?”

-----

Raphael: Martial Arts

‘This is starting to be a problem,’ the rat mutant thought as he flipped through the pages of a six-month-old, tattered copy of ‘Parenting Today’ magazine.

His assumed oldest son, Raphael, was getting out of hand. Out of all his sons, Red was the biggest and most aggressive—which by default at this age—made him the strongest. It didn’t help that Raphael was snapping turtle either which likely exacerbated his aggressive instincts. Sibling play always seemed to end in one of his younger sons crying or injured from a slap of his muscled tail, a scratch from his sharp claws or spiked shell, or a bite from his powerful jaw. Even if his sons where mutant turtles, this was starting to become excessive and placing a strain on the family dynamic. But the worse part was as a newly single dad, Splinter did know how to stop it.

“WAHHHHHH!”

Splinter straightened his back as he was startled from his thoughts. A high-pitched shriek echoed throughout the tunnels from their sewer home. The rat darted up from the couch he was sitting on, and haphazardly tossed his reading literature to the floor.

‘They were playing fine 20 minutes ago!’ He thought as he rounded the corner to the largest space in the tunnels—likely to become the living room if they remained here permanently.

“What’s wrong, my sons?! Are you injured?!” He practically shouted once he arrived.

His eyes instantly fell to the blue banded turtle, Leonardo, and the aforementioned, Raphael, gnawing on the smaller one's left leg. His other sons, Donatello and Michaelangelo, huddled up next to each other a few feet away watching with wide, worried eyes at the scene before them.

The red-banded turtle looked up expectantly and released his brother’s leg when his father entered the room. He chirped excitedly and wagged his long-spiked tail as the rat approached. Leo, now free from his confines, rolled on his shell and flailed his arms and legs around as a desperate cry for attention and comfort.

“Red One—NO! No biting!” Splinter admonished as he darted to the two turtles and gently lifted the younger in his arms.

He inspected the leg for any injury—luckily there wasn’t a puncture wound, and it didn’t appear it would bruise. At least Red knew to restrain some of that strength when engaging with his brothers. His right ear had been at the mercy of those powerful jaws a few months ago when Red was teething. He had taken a chunk out of the said ear, so he knew firsthand the damage Raphael could cause. Thankfully, Leo was more frightened than hurt.

“There, there...you’re okay, Baby Blue,” he rocked the blue-banded turtle in his arms to give him comfort, “you’re okay. I’m here.” The red-eared slider’s tears slowly subsided as he snuggled closer into his father’s furry grey chest.

Splinter let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding. He kneaded his temples with his available hand. Apparently play would need to be supervised at this point.

He looked down as he felt four other hands latch on to his legs—Orange and Purple. The latter two had quickly scurried over and sought comfort from their mutant father now that the incident had calmed down. Raphael stood off the side isolated, head hanging low and hand in his mouth from being reprimanded.

“Red, stay here,” Splinter said with a clipped tone as he scooped down to gather his other boys in his arms. Purple and Orange chirped happily while Blue slowly started nodding off, drained for an afternoon of play. “I will put your brothers down for their nap, and then we can talk about what you have done.”

Splinter started towards the boy’s shared room but paused with he heard a weak whimper from behind.

“Pa...?”

Looking over his shoulder, the rat noticed the tears threatening to fall from Raphael’s eyes and the tremble of his lower beak. The eldest turtle locked eyes with his father and started shuffling over to the rat and his brothers, arms outreached begging for comfort.

“No, Red One,” Splinter said as he fully turned to the red-banded turtle, “I wish for you to stay here. Away from your brothers...for now. I—”

Red tucked his head down and placed a fist back in his mouth. He turned away from his father and brothers guiltily. He lowered himself to the ground, hugged his knees tightly, and sobbed.

With empathetic eyes, Splinter bowed his head and sighed, turning as he resumed his walk to the bedroom.

He had to act now before things escalated for the worse.

---

After tucking in the younger tots for a much needed afternoon nap, Splinter went to find Red. Perhaps if he could find a way to teach the older boy about restraint, he could learn to play with his brother without harming them. It was clear to the rat—even after several accidental injuries—that Red didn’t understand his own strength and was only wanting to play.

But he didn’t know much about kids or turtles—let alone mutant turtles, so he was at a loss of what could be done. All he knew is acting and martial arts.

Splinter steadied himself on the nearest wall as he made his way back to the living room. His yellow eyes fell right to the turtle in question who was sadly looking over one of his worn teddy bears. The occasional whimper could still be heard from the tot as he tried in vain to independently soothe his loneliness.

“Red One,” Splinter calmly started as he walked over to the turtle in question. He knelt next to the boy so he could be eye level to him—as the parenting magazines had recommended, “I am—”

The rat paused as he looked at the pitiful sight that was his son and let out a light, yet wistful sigh. He reached over and affectionally rubbed his red-banded son’s head. A calming gesture, so his son would be more receptive to his teachings and to hopefully, convey his emotions on the incident to the child.

“I am not mad at you, my son,” he chuckled as Raphael hesitantly giggled at his antics. The rat placed his hand on Red’s shoulder. “We must learn to control your powerful strength and impulses. It is not okay for you to bite your brothers. I know it was not intentional, but—”

Raphael slowly blinked and cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“W-what I’m trying to say,” Splinter backtracked to make the lecture easier for the tot to understand, “is that you must play gently with your brothers, so they do not cry.”

Raphael furrowed his brow as he tried to comprehend his father’s teaching.

“...wlay nice?” He eventually wondered aloud.

“Yes! Very good, my son,” Splinter nodded in confirmation as he stood up “We must play nice with your brothers. I want to teach you to master your strength, so I have decided during your brother’s naptime, we will have our lessons. I will teach you martial arts.”

His son’s blank expression clearly indicated the child did not understand what his father was talking about. Perhaps a demonstration was needed.

The rat took a few steps back and took a deep breath to center himself. It had been several months since he was able to do any heavy physical activity due to his weakened state and mutation by that warrior and psychotic scientist mutant sheep, Barum Draxum. He actually hadn’t done any martial arts—let alone katas, since his mutation. Splinter suddenly doubted he would be able to do any of his skills in this new body, but looking at his son’s question-filled eyes, steeled his resolve once more.

“HOT SOUP!” he exclaimed as he delivered a flurry of punches and kicks to an invisible foe.

Adrenaline rushed through his veins as each practiced move was executed as if he had never lost his human form or had an extended hiatus from the arts. An emotion Splinter hadn’t felt in a while—excitement—bubbled to the surface from his innermost being. A familiar confident grin graced his lips jumped up for a mid-air round-house kick. This was the Lou Jitsu he longed to be again! As he landed, he went for another kick but paused as he heard the gasp from his son, Raphael.

Instantly, all the excitement died down, and he was brought back to the reality of his mutation. He could never go back. This was his life now—parenthood and sewers. He slowly placed his leg down and turned towards his son. When they locked eyes, another emotion replaced his sorrow and disappointment.

“Ooh,” the red-banded tot shouted in amazement. “HOT SOUWP!” he emulated as he punched the air, dropping his forgotten teddy at his feet.

Love. He felt...genuine love and happiness.

“Yes, Raphael,” he chuckled as the tot toppled over attempting the aerial combination. “Come, let us begin our first lesson before your brothers awaken. The rat held out his hand to his son as an invitation.

The red turtle pushed himself off the cold floor and scurried over to his father’s extended hand, grasping it greedily with chubby fingers. He nuzzled his head against father’s robe, releasing a happy chirp at the attention.

His initial hope was that martial arts would quell is eldest son’s instincts and teach him control; however, he didn’t anticipate the bond he would create during this one-on-one time with Red. Perhaps his other sons would be interested in learning this craft in a few years. They didn’t quite have the motor skills or dexterity yet but learning self-defense would likely be beneficial for his mutant children.

“HOT SOUWP!” Raphael shouted again in excitement as they wandered towards the back of the lair.

“Hot Soup!” Splinter echoed a bit softer but with no less zeal.

Looks another trip to the surface was in his future. He’ll have to salvage some supplies for a dojo.

---

Thoughts:

So as I may have mentioned in an earlier post, this was supposed to be just a prompt, but I felt like writing, and it got out of hand. Story of my life. I will be writing for each turtle and will be releasing them in age order, so next up is Donatello.

I have a head canon that Raph was a bit of a handful growing up due to his size and species of turtle. If you have never met a snapping turtle in person, they are mean little shits. I lean more towards sociological ideas—an individual’s personality is formed from environmental interactions such as with family, community, etc. But as children, we are more instinctual and follow our basic needs until we are able to be taught from our environment. Therefore, Raph was a bit more aggressive as a child until he was able to be taught otherwise.

I literally see Raph chewing through furniture and toys while he was teething.

So anyway, he had to learn how to control and reshape his natural instincts so he wouldn’t harm his brothers. And he very clearly has learned this as displayed in RotTMNT. He’s so sweet.

I also head canon the turtles started talking later in childhood that an average human child would as they are mutants—turtle and human DNA. In this case, I imagine around age 4-6 they develop the mental capacity to form words, so Raph is just learning to use his vocal cords. He has a limited vocabulary, but he is able to comprehend. The other boys can’t talk yet but are able to walk.

Splinter was also difficult to write as we still don’t really know much about him. The boys are clearly well cared for and love their dad, but there was a shift in his character when they got older...maybe depression? Anyway, I tried to convey he is struggling to do the right thing by caring for the boys while dealing with his new mutation, etc. etc. In other words, I based him off of other Splinter’s, so yeah...

Hope you enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are always welcome and appreciated. My plan to release the next part of this prompt later tonight or tomorrow. Thanks for your patience, and feel free to leave more turtle tot ideas!

#tmnt #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt mikey #tmnt leonardo #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt splinter #fanfic #writing prompt

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