#<- cause its used as a slur here

[lockandkeyhyena]

Mum, why did dad die?

…

Lots of reasons, honey. Go to bed.

[lildoodlenoodle]

B so fucking for real rn. Y’all see this shit? I don’t even gotta say anything. 🍅 🍅 embarrassing take

[thedenerts]

The baby is coming!

X-ORIGINS LOGAN X FEM!READER

Summary: your water broke when logan was out with his lumberjacking work

Tags: reader is preggo 9 months, logan and reader are married, reader is 27 and logan is 33, newborn's a baby boy, childbirth, labor

Word Count: 2.8k+

Notes: Hello! Donut here! Here to give you my second fan fic on wolverine (again). I was not expecting the first one that i had made a smut on got that many attention. I've noticed that some of the readers there doesn't like the way i describe y/n on it and i deeply apologize for it. I simply didn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings on that as i DID NOT KNOW that the word was a slur.

SMUT LOGAN FAN FIC HERE: https://www.tumblr.com/thedenerts/766686508900139008/love-isnt-red-its-blue?source=share

Extra notes: Trollers or the people that had a problem of me putting mdni on the first pic, i had my rights to put it as to not cause uncomfortable situations.

The early morning sunlight seeped through the wooden slats of the bedroom window, painting the room in soft, warm hues. Logan stirred beneath the thick quilt, his eyes still heavy with sleep. Stretching his arms out, his large hand brushing against the empty space beside him. He glanced over to find you lying on your side, your rounded belly rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. You swollen feet peeked out from beneath the blanket, a silent reminder of the life they had created together.

Leaning in, Logan gently kissed your forehead “Mornin’ darlin’,” he murmured, his voice thick with love. Your eyes fluttered open, a soft smile playing on your lips as you spoke. “Morning, Hun,” you whispered, your hand reaching out to rest on his cheek. The baby in your swollen belly kicked again and you winced slightly, “Seems like little man is eager to join us, huh?”

Logan chuckled, his hand sliding over the mound of your stomach. “Well, guess we know where he got that feisty attitude from. He’s got his father’s impatience, that’s for sure,” he teased, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection. Your smile grew wider as you watched your husband get out of bed, his muscular frame moving with the ease of a man accustomed to hard work. You then slowly sat up on your bed, your own body protesting with a gentle groan. The baby’s kicks had become more frequent and stronger over the past few days…*a sign that your little miracle was almost there*.

Both Logan and you got up from the bed to start their day, excited to know that the baby might come today. The two of you ate breakfast together before eventually Logan went off to work for the day. Another day another job as a father who is a strong, handsome and a protective, loving husband.

“Logan, maybe you should stay home today…” you suggested, your eyes filled with concern. “I just have this feeling…” Logan paused in the act of pulling on his boost, looking over his shoulder at you. “You’ll be fine, love. It’s not your first time.” He tried to keep his voice light, but the truth was; he was just as nervous. He had promised to be there when your son is about to be born and he didn’t want to let you down.

“I know.” you nodded with your hand resting on your stomach protectively “But something just feels different-“.

Logan stood, walking over to you with his axe slung over his shoulder and the keys jingling in his hand. He bent down and kissed you again, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin. “I’ll keep my phone close, I promise.” he said firmly. “Call me if anything happens alright?”

You nodded, trying to push your anxiety aside. “O-okay…” you managed, your voice quivering slightly. Logan squeezed your hand reassuringly before heading out the door, the sound of his boots echoing through the quiet house as he made his way to the garage. You watched Logan from the window in the house behind the curtain, before he could even enter the car, he gave you a flying kiss and nodded. Then entering back into the car and drove off to his workplace.

Alone in the house, you went about your morning chores with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The baby’s room was already prepared, the crib filled with plush toys and blankets, and how the nursery walls were painted a soothing shade of blue. Oh, you still remember that day when Logan founds out that you were pregnant to a baby boy. A baby boy! You chuckled to yourself as you move around the house. Your belly felt heavier with each step around the house. The occasional kick from within reminded you of the impending arrival, bringing smile to your face despite the fears.

The morning passed quickly filled with the mundane but yet comforting tasks of laundry and cooking. As noon approached, you decided to make lunch for both you and Logan; expecting him back shortly. You then reached into the fridge, the cool air providing a momentary relief from the heat outside when suddenly you felt a sharp pain and a powerful kick from the baby. Your hand flew to your stomach as your eyes widening in shock. This wasn’t just a kick; it was different…more *intense*.

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to stand up straight, your knees buckling slightly. Another wave of pain hits you and you gripped the counter for support then accidentally knocking over a glass of water. The shattering sound echoed through the house, the cool liquid pooling at your feet. Panic began to set in as you realized that water had broken. The baby was coming…the baby is coming! And Logan was still out at work.

With trembling hands, you reached for your phone on the kitchen counter. Your mind racing with thoughts of what you needed to do next. You quickly dialled Logan’s number, your heart pounding in your chest with each unanswered ring. “Pick up…pick up…” you whispered then squeezed your eyes in desperation.

“Hello?” Logan’s gruff voice finally came through the line, the sound of chainsaws and distant shouts of his co-workers in the background.

“Logan!” as your voice was strained with urgency. “My water broke! The baby’s coming!”

On the other end of the line, Logan’s heart skipped a beat. The cacophony of the lumberyard fading away as he processed your words. “Shit.” He breathed, his eyes wide with panic “I’m coming home. Now.” He hung up without waiting for a response, sprinting away towards his El Camino car that was parked at the edge of the worksite. Leaving behind his work duties, unlocking his car and enters inside and the car roared when he turns the engine on. Immediately step on the gas. He growled to himself wishing he could just be there in a split second.

Back home you leaned heavily on the counter, your free hand clutching your swollen belly. The pain was coming in waves now, more intense and closer together. Taking deep breaths as you were trying to calm yourself and your baby. Your eyes flickering towards the clock on the wall. With each minute felt was like an eternity as you waited for Logan to come home. The roar of the Chevrolet’s engine grew louder when it approached the house.

Logan’s boots thudded against the porch, and the door flew open. His eyes searched the room, finding you standing in the kitchen, a puddle of water around your feet. “Oh, God…darlin’…” he murmured, his own fear palpable. He rushed to you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist, supporting your weight.

“We gotta go, now.” He said, his voice steady despite his racing heart. “Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from crying out as another contraction hit. Logan helped you to the car, his eyes never leaving yours as he opened the passenger door and gently helped you inside. He could see the pain etched on your face, the sweat beading on your forehead and it only served to fuel his urgency. Logan quickly runs to the driver seat not caring about locking the house door as he started the engine again. Pressed hard on the gas.

The drive to the hospital was a blur of speed limits broken and red lights ignored. Logan’s mind raced with thoughts of what could go wrong, his knuckled white on the steering wheel. Your hand was clutched tightly in his, your nails digging into his skin with each contraction but he didn’t flinch. He focused on the road ahead, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror every few seconds to ensure no one was following too closely.

“Hold on, darlin. Just breathe,” he murmured to you. His voice tight with anxiety “We’re almost there just hang on.”

Your eyes were squeezed shut, teeth gritted against the pain. Each bump in the road sent a jolt through your body but you knew you had to be strong for the baby. You and Logan’s baby. “Okay,” you panted, the grip on Logan’s hand was like a vice.

Logan’s jaw was set, his eyes never leaving the road ahead as he drove with a speed that was both necessary and terrifying. He knew every inch of these backroads like the back of his hand, but this today, they seemed endless. The hospital was just outskirts of town, but the distance felt insurmountable.

“How are you holding up?” he asked you, his voice tight with concern. You look at Logan, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. “Not a perfect timing to ask if I’m ok or not, Hun!” you managed to say, though the pain was written all over your face.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. We are almost there,” his eyes never left the road ahead as he sped through the deserted streets, the engine of his 1965 Chevrolet El Camino roaring like a beast.

You nodded with your eyes clenched shut, breaths coming in short, rapid gasps as you tried to focus through the pain. Each contraction was more intense than the last, the pressure building like an unrelenting storm inside you. “I can do this.” You murmured to yourself, your knuckles white on the armrest.

Logan’s heart was racing but he kept his face calm, his eyes never leaving the road. “You’re so strong,” he said with his voice thick with emotion. “Our little boy is going to be so lucky to have you as his mama.”

You managed a small smile, your breath hitching as another wave of pain washed over you. “And he’ll have a pretty cool dad too,” you said, squeezing his hand. Logan could see the hospital just up ahead, he stepped on the gas making it go even faster as they approached the hospital to the emergency gate.

As you together arrived at the hospital with a screech of tires, Logan throwing the car into park and jumping out to rush around to your side. He opened the door and helped you out, his arm around your waist as you took tentative steps towards the emergency entrance. The sliding doors parted with a whoosh, revealing a flurry of activity inside.

“We need help! My wife! She’s in labor!” Logan shouted over the din, his voice echoing off the sterile walls. Nurses looked up and their faces were a mix of concern and urgency as they quickly approached the both of you.

You leaned heavily on Logan as they moved through the emergency room, the pain in your eyes stark. A nurse leads you both to a nearby gurney, instructing Logan to help you onto it. He lifted you gently, his movements a stark contrast to the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. The cold metal, a reminder of the gravity of the situation, but you managed a grateful smile as you lay down, your hand gripping Logan’s.

The medical staffs swarmed around you both, a flurry of blue scrubs and concerned faces. A doctor then appeared, his eyes flicking between your medical file and the monitors now attached to you. “How far apart are your contractions? Mrs Howlett?” he asked calmly.

Your breathing was ragged. “They’re close…Too close,” you gasped out replying to the doctor.

The doctor nodded and his expression were calm but focused. “We’re going to get you prepped for delivery,” as he said, turning to give the orders to the nurses.

Logan’s heart felt like it was in his throat as he watched the medical team work around his wife. He felt useless, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He could feel his adamantium claws itching its way out. He wanted to do something, anything…to ease your pain.

“You can come with us,” one of the nurses said gently, noticing his distress. “But you need to stay calm for her alright?”

Logan nodded, swallowing hard. He followed them into the elevator, the doors closing with a metallic clang that seemed to echo in the quiet space. The ride to the delivery room felt like an eternity, each moment stretching out as they ascended floor by floor.

Inside; the room was a whirlwind of activity. The doctor was speaking in hushed tones to the nurses, who moved swiftly and efficiently around the bed, preppy in for you. The smell of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of fear and excitement that clung into Logan’s skin. He took his place by your side, his hand in yours and tried to offer comfort as the contractions grew more intense.

“Breathe, darlin’.” He murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Just breathe.”

Your eyes flew open, the pain a living, pulsing entity in the room. You nodded, your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you tried to focus on Logan’s voice, his warm, strong presence beside you. The contractions were coming faster now, each one stealing your breath and leaving you gasping for more.

“I’m right here,” Logan said, his voice a lifetime in chaos. “You’re doing so well, darlin’.”

Your grip on his hand tightened as you pushed, the doctor’s calm instructions a soothing rhythm in the background. Your body was a symphony of pain and power, each push; a crescendo that brought you both closer to meeting your beloved newborn son. Logan watched in awe, his love for you swelling with each contraction.

“Almost there,” the doctor said, his eyes never yours. “You’re doing it.”

Logan leaned in closer, his eyes on the doctor’s face as he felt his wife’s hand tighten around his. The room was a blur of activity, but all he could focus was the woman he loved, fighting through the most intense moment of her life. The pain on your face was matched only by the determination in your eyes, and he knew that you were going to give it everything you had.

“One more push,” the doctor urged, his voice firm and steady. “You’ve got this.”

Your eyes locked with Logan’s, nodded, drawing on the strength you knew he had in abundance. With a final, guttural scream, you pushed with every ounce of energy you had left. Logan felt his heart thunder in his chest, his eyes never leaving yours.

And then, amidst the beeps of the monitors and the rustling of the hospital gowns, they heard it; a tiny, squawking cry. The doctor held up your newborn baby boy, a mess of blood and vernix, but the most beautiful sight Logan had ever seen. His eyes filled with tears as he watched the nurse quickly clean him and wrap him in a warm blanket.

The doctor passed the baby to you, who took him into your own arms with a tremble. His tiny face screwed up in a wail, his little fists flailing. “He’s perfect,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from the effort. Logan leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss onto his newborn son’s forehead. “Welcome to the world, lil’ bub.” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes filled with tears as he looked at you, who was now holding the child they had created. Both Logan and your hearts swelling with love and fear and wonder.

You looks at Logan and chuckles tiredly while holding your baby. “Are you going to name him then? Lil’ Bub might not be the best when he grows up, Hun.” You said with a tired smile.

Logan’s eyes never left the baby as he thought for a moment before saying, “How about Jimmy, Jimmy Howlett? A nickname given by you if I remember correct, darlin’.” (i know I suck at naming, shut up and I took the word Jimmy from dofp ifykyk)

Your eyes filled with tears as you nodded. “Jimmy,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the baby’s cries. “Jimmy Howlett…it fits him.”

The nurse took the baby for a quick check-up while Logan helped you adjusting your position in the bed. He gently brushed the hair from your forehead, his eyes filled with admiration and love. “You did it, baby. You’re amazing,” he said, his voice cracking.

You managed a wearily smile, your eyes glaze with the exhaustion of labor. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” you murmured as your gaze drifting to the bundle of joy in the nurse’s arms. Logan felt a fierce pride swell within him, his eyes never leaving his son.

The nurse finished her checks and brought little Jimmy back to the both of you, placing him gently in his mother’s arms. His cries had quieted to soft whimpers, his tiny body seeking warmth and comfort. Logan watched as your expression softened, your entire being seemingly focused on the new life you held.

Logan leans down beside with his arm over your head and the other smoothly and gently caressing his son’s head. Not wanting to make him cry even more. “I’m here too buddy,” he whispers to Jimmy, his voice gentle rumble… ”I’m your daddy.”

There you go folks! I hope you enjoy reading this and if you have anything just ask me anything. Might do request soon in the near future (who knows, might be hugh next?) <3 (dividers by @chachachannah)

[sxmmerberries]

DRUNK DAZED - park sunghoon x reader

✦ genre: romance

✦ pairing: park sunghoon as your roommate who you have a crush on

✦ word count: 1, 426

✦ warning: suggestive and mentions of drinking

✦ summary: taking care of your drunk roommate turned into something else

You paused your kdrama as you heard the doorbell ring late at night. You frowned, wondering who could be at the door this late at night, turning the TV off before getting up from the couch.

You walked to the door and opened the door cautiously just to see Jake, Sunghoon's best friend, with a very drunk looking Sunghoon clinging onto him.

"Hey Jake," You greeted, noticing the unsteady state of Sunghoon. You took in his flushed state as he could barely stand without Jake supporting him.

"We had a bit too much to drink and Sunghoon...well, he's pretty out of it so I came to drop this guy off,” Jake smiled, gripping onto Sunghoon's waist, trying to keep him upright.

"I can see that,” You chuckled lightly and stepped forward to help support Sunghoon, who was swaying a bit on his feet. "Here, let me take him to his room. Thanks for bringing him back, Jake.” Jake nodded, a bit relieved.

"No problem," he said, "I just hope he doesn't cause too much trouble." You smiled as you led Sunghoon to his room as he stumbled.

You were used to taking care of your roommates when they were drunk, but there was something about taking care of Sunghoon that felt a bit different.

Once you guys reached his room, you gently eased him onto his bed. He immediately flopped backwards, staring up at the ceiling with a dazed expression on his face.

You stood there for a moment, taking in his dishevelled appearance and the way his eyes, usually so reserved and shy, were now clouded with the effects of alcohol.

"You really went overboard with it tonight, huh?," You said, a hint of amusement in your voice, ruffling his hair a bit.

Sunghoon let out a lazy grumble, not quite able to form words. He closed his eyes for a moment, and you took the opportunity to brush the hair out of his face. You couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked, even in his current dishevelled state.

You held out a glass of water, hoping it would help sober him up a bit. "Here, drink some water," you helped him sit up gently. But instead of taking the glass, he just stared at you, his gaze a bit dazed. He took the glass from your hand and placed it on the nightstand and suddenly reached out, his hand finding its way around your waist.

With a swift movement, he pulled you onto his lap. You were caught off guard by the sudden movement, your breath hitching as you found yourself straddling him on the bed. His grip on your waist was firm, and you could feel the warmth of his chest against you.

"S-Sunghoon," You stammered, your cheeks flushed with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. "What are you doing?”

He looked up at you, his gaze slightly less hazy than before. He was still quite groggy, but there was a hint of awareness in his eyes now, and what seemed like a sly smile appeared on his face. You were caught off guard by the unexpected action, your face heating up in response.

You had never seen him act this way as he was always shy and reserved, so now you were shocked at how comfortable he seemed to be with you. His smile widened, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you realized that you were in a very compromising position. This dude was drunk and clearly had other plans than to sleep it off.

Your mind raced, trying to process what was happening. You were always attracted to Sunghoon, but never in a million years did you expect him to be this forward, especially in his current state.

His hand moved to cup your chin, gently tilting your face upwards, to meet his gaze. "You're so pretty," he mumbled, the words slurring slightly as they left his lips. He gently traced your bottom lip with his thumb.

"You're drunk," You managed to say, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to stop freaking out internally.

"Maybe," he admitted, "But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate your beauty, right?,” You felt like your heart was gonna break out of your ribcage as it was beating so fast.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red. You looked around to find something to divert his attention when you saw that glass of water.

"You should really drink the water," You offered, trying to get out of his lap, but he tightened his grip around your waist. You had never seen this side of him before.

"Later," he mumbled, his focus solely on you. His eyes flickered down to your lips,"I'd rather have you right now.”

He closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against yours teasingly. Your mind went blank, all thoughts dissolving as he grabbed your cheeks, and the kiss deepened. His hands roamed over your back and waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you two. His tongue traced your bottom lip, seeking entry. He took advantage of your parted lips, gently pushing his tongue into your mouth, his tongue exploring more.

“You taste even better than I imagined," He murmured as he pulled away, his fingers tracing your lips with his finger as your brain tried to process what just happened.

“He imagined what I might taste like?,” You thought, your brain almost short circuiting and your body still on fire due to the heat of the moment.

You had given away your very first kiss to your very drunk roommate who would probably regret everything in the morning and move to a different planet just so he doesn't have to face you.

You were brought out of your stance as you felt Sunghoon bury his head in the crook of your neck, placing light kisses on the skin.

You were so torn between the thrill of the moment and the guilt that was starting to surface. You knew you shouldn't be doing this, not when he was drunk and was making decisions he might regret. But the way he was looking at you, you couldn't bring yourself to push him off.

"Sunghoon, We shouldn't... you're drunk," You whispered, with a hesitant tone.

"I'm not that drunk," He murmured, pulling away from your neck and placing a small peck on your lips.

“You'll regret this in the morning,” You brushed his hair out of his face.

“I won't…please let me have you…,” He tugged on the hem of your shirt, wanting it off, looking at you for permission.

“It'll be like taking advantage of you...I can't do that,” You pushed his hand away.

"Please... you're not taking advantage of me... I'm perfectly in my senses.. I know exactly what I'm doing and I want you. I wanted to do this for so long,” Your eyes widened in shock upon hearing his words as you immediately got off of his lap, your cheeks flushing as red as a tomato.

“No, you're not.You should go to sleep,” You mumbled as he smiled lazily, looking at your flustered reaction, reaching out to grab your wrist again.

“No no no no, you're going to bed,” You said, gently pushing him back on the bed so he would lie down.

“Oh, come on now,” He pulled you closer to him, grabbing your wrist as you hovered over him, staring at his perfect face.

You stared at him for a bit before your eyes fell on his plush looking lips. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath hit your skin. He rejoiced internally as he watched you stare at him.

“He is drunk,” You thought as you looked at his flushed state before removing his hand from your wrist and pulling the blanket over him, making him sulk in disappointment.

"But I don't want to go to bed... I want you,” He was almost on the verge of throwing a tantrum.

You gave him one last peck on his forehead before tucking him in like you planned before and quickly leaving the room, much to his disappointment.

He groaned softly, tossing and turning in his bed, trying to force himself to sleep, but the memory of your kiss still lingered in his mind. He stared at the door, frustrated that he couldn't have more, and resigned himself to a long, restless night.

©sxmmerberries

More enha fics

networks: @kstrucknet @k-films @starlit-network

[catboyieejeno]

seventeen reaction ₊ ༊ ˚｡⋆˚

➸ the seventeen members as boyfriends.

alt title: seventeen are boyfriend coded—that's all.

cw: mentions of food, sfw, cheol's & hao's are suggestive if you squint, they’re all a little long… i was very invested

masterlist

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seungcheol

talk about a dude who is boyfriend coded fr

if he wakes up at any point during the night and realizes you happened to roll away from him in your sleep, he'll reach out across the sheets in search of your warmth, pulling you tightly into his chest before falling back asleep

and he's pressed into you so, so snugly, trapping you in his hold and tickling your neck with his shallow breaths

if you even attempt to shift away, he'll scold you in a gravelly, slurred voice or hum in protest (even if he's half-asleep) until you stop moving and accept your fate

anything you want, just say the word and it's yours

you mention that you like a specific type of flower? he's getting you a bouquet every week so that your vases are never empty. he overhears you talking about an item you've been wanting? by the very next day, it's yours, in different versions/colors cause he wasn't sure which one you'd like

treats you to frequent date-nights at high-end restaurants because you deserve nothing but the best... and he uh, has a bit of a ulterior motive haha....

these dates are a necessary staple in your relationship because he can't ever get enough of you when you get all dressed up for him

thanks his lucky stars for the patience he's been granted because you look too good and he almost can't wait until after dinner to have his way with you

whenever he kisses your cheek, he practically smashes his lips into you until your cheek is smushed and pushing your eye closed and his nose is digging into your cheekbone

whenever he has an early practice the following day and can't sleep over, he still insists on passing by your place to take you on walk or something where the two of you can catch each other up on your day and spend some time together between his busy schedules

i cannot stress this enough: you will never have to touch a steering wheel ever again

prepare to be passenger prince/princess forever. you will not need to drive anywhere when he's with you bc he insists on taking you everywhere

'hand on your thigh with your hand over his' type of guy

it’s second nature for him to scoop your legs onto his lap when the two of sit together on the couch + he’ll subconsciously start massaging your calves, rubbing at them and squeezing them in his big hands after a long day

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jeonghan

the type to randomly kiss any bit of your skin that's exposed to him, and his kisses are so light and soft and sweet

on the other hand, he's also the type to bite you

like he'd start by softly nibbling and then his impulsive thoughts will take over and he'll bite you a bit too hard

echoes your "ow!" as if he also got hurt

but he can't watch you scowl or be mad at him for too long so he'll coo at you and apologize while holding your face in his hands (i know you've seen a clip of him going "aigoo" (아이고) when someone falls/gets hurt... it's exactly what he would say —its one of the expressions he uses very often and i can't picture anything else no matter how hard i try)

oh, he's a cheek kisser for sure

that tiny little smile that he does (see here and here for reference)... he'd do it and proceed to smother you with kisses on your cheeks because he's so obsessed with how soft they are

and no, you cannot move until he's completely satisfied and has given you as many kisses as he deems necessary

similarly, get ready to lay around in the morning until he decides he's had a sufficient amount of cuddles from you and can get on with his day

but to be honest, he's insatiable so you very well may end up lying around for an hour or two

during these cuddle sessions, jeonghan clings to you in a hug, hands softly rubbing your arms and traveling over your waist and thighs—it's not even sexual, he's just soaking up the feeling of touching you because it's something he can never get enough of

and if you did the same with him, letting your hands wander, his cheeks might glow a soft pink. that combined with the sleepy look on his face makes him look that much more riveting

he's already so pretty, you didn't think he could get any prettier but he can and he does every single day

and now it's part of your daily routine to hold each other and enjoy the comfortable silence/very light conversation about what dreams you had or what errands you have to run later

it's his absolute favorite way to wake up he literally can never get enough because he's greedy

you'd brush your hands over his shoulders and chest or softly trace his facial features, laughing when you're at his lips and he catches your finger between his lips in a soft bite (that he pairs with a little "aang!" sound effect)

and no because he's literally crazy enough to get mad at you for spoiling him with affection

sends you texts complaining because now, whenever he has to sleep away from you (bc of tour/schedules and whatnot,) he wakes up in a sour mood, missing the smell of you on his sheets and the feeling of your skin on his

and somehow that's your fault

immediately takes it back when you threaten to stop

"fine, jeonghan. i'll just make sure i get up every morning before you and that way, you don't miss me when yo-"

"what, nooooo! how could you even say that to me!"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ joshua

i'm a supporter and enthusiast of the joshua gentleman agenda

but let me go into detail on what that really means

opens the door for you, pays for your meals, walks on the outside of the side walk,

yeah yeah yeah he does all of that but those are just the basics

joshua is a romantic, okay? this man goes above and beyond make you swoon and to ensure you feel so overwhelmingly loved and cared for all the time

knew from the moment he met you that the best things are worth the wait, so he took his time, romancing you with thoroughly planned out dates where his effort shined through, so that you'd know how much you mean to him from the start

for example: on one date, he took you rollerblading first—he put your skates on for you and strapped up your laces before helping you onto the rink where he'd stroll behind you, patiently waiting for you to gain the confidence to let go of the wall so he can take your hands in his

next, he takes you to the cutest little place that serves your favorite food (he researched it extensively and reserved the table a week and a half in advance)

found that there's a record/vinyl shop next door so you go there, and he gladly listens intently as you rave about your favorite artists and genres and songs

oh, and he's not done.

because finally, you're seated on the hood of his car, star-gazing at the top of a hill with a great view below and the two of you talking just about anything for hours on end and just as you're starting to realize how easy it feels to be around him—he's dropping you off and walking you to your door, leaving a kiss on your hand and leaving you wanting more

be serious. you're telling me you wouldn't fall in love?

fast forward, and he's still the epitome of boyfriend material

brushing your teeth next to each other and looking at one another in the bathroom mirror

skin care nights where he's picking you up so you can sit on the sink

and he's standing in front of you, one hand on your hip, the other smearing some pink goo on your cheeks as he's telling you how pretty you look

and you're so close that he can't help but softly kiss you, so slowly and tenderly until you both pull away and laugh as you realize you look ridiculous with fluffy headbands and face masks on

he holds you so close to his chest at night and will remind you that he loves you during pillow talk

quietly hums a melody when he senses you're beginning to drift off, thumb soothingly swiping your cheek as your eyes flutter shut

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ junhui

definitely does that cheesy thing where he swings your hands between your bodies as you guys are walking

likes coming up to you whenever he hasn't seen you in a bit or you’ve been doing something for a while

and he'll just throw his arms over your shoulders, resting his chin on top of your head and muttering “what are you up to?” in the tiniest voice

pet names, pet names. pet. names.

he might as well have forgotten your real name because to him you are honey or bǎobèi (宝贝) or bǎobǎo (宝宝) or baby or some other nickname he’s come up with during the duration of your relationship

even when he’s mad he doesn’t call you by your name and... you already know his temper’s pretty short... so it’s endearing to see how adamant he is about referring to you strictly as one of the soft nicknames he's assigned to you

so adaptable and mirrors all your emotions, especially if you’re excited about something or feeling a little bouncier than usual, he’s right there with you

also he thinks it's so cute when you happen to get excited about things. he's a sucker for that happy look on your face, so expect a few random gifts or surprises from him just so he can watch your eyes light up

cooks his favorite meals/comfort foods that remind him of home so that you can try them, and would be so proud if you like them

will 100% be so willing and eager to try dishes that are comfort meals for you, too (might even learn to make them just how you like them for days where you're down/sick)

nose kisses!

when he wakes up in the morning all warm and tucked up into your side and he sees the way your tired eyes blink back at him, lashes curling and eyelids heavy with sleep, he’s instantly inching closer and leaving the lightest kisses on the tip of your nose, nuzzling his own nose into your cheek and croaking a very sleepy 'good morning' into your skin

constantly plays with your hair

like, he’s not usually fidgety but if he can’t find anything to do to busy his hands, they’ll find themselves twisting and braiding your locks and it makes chills go down your spine every time

i can very vividly see jun being the kind to want to lay around with you on rainy days/his days off

watching movies, napping, talking for hours— he just loves quality time and being lazy and comfortable in your presence

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ soonyoung

lives and breaths for seeing a smile on your face, and that's not an exaggeration

will drop everything he's doing if there's a pout on your face for even a split second, and he won't stop until he finds out what has upset you

constantly babies you and expects you to baby him, too

if you had a cut or scrape, soonyoung would mirror your pout as he carefully starts cleaning and bandaging your injury

when he's done, he's pressing his lips to it because he insists his kisses have magical healing properties

also insists that your kisses are the same when he's got a cold

so naturally, when you refuse to kiss him in his snotty and sneezy state he's soooo offended

will sass you for approximately 20 minutes and refuses his medicine until he realizes you can still cuddle him

and all of a sudden he's forgiven you and settling for having you hold him instead

but seriously, soonyoung will love you so purely

his kisses are always so eager, hands clinging to your hips to pull you closer to him

if you're apart, he really loves falling asleep on the phone; it makes him feel just a little bit closer to you even when he's so many miles away on tour

and you can bet that when he's away he'll be calling you about every tiny little thing

"hey, i found a new toothpaste that's really good i think we should get this one-"

"hi baby, i just wanted to let you know that i ate the best kimchi jjigae-oh, but it's not better than yours!"

"no, no! you still don't get it. basically, the joke is: i told seungkwan he can't have coffee before a show because-"

if he gets home and you're napping he'll get all giggly and jump in bed beside you

will cuddle up to you so noisily, apologizing profusely if he happens to when he inevitably does wake you up and making it all better by wrapping his limbs around you and nuzzling himself into your neck where he unironically shushes you

"shh! you're too loud! i'm trying to sleep!" and you're looking at him because there's no way he's serious (he is)

this boy is fast asleep before you even start to drift off again

likes laying his head on your stomach so that your nails can rake up and down his back and through his scalp

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wonwoo

he's careful and thoughtful with just about everything, and that extends to you and how he treats you.

as a boyfriend, wonwoo is so caring and unbelievably considerate of you and your well-being

honestly, he would be able to go the longest without clinging to you, but that's only because he gets his fill of your affection at very specific times and moments throughout the day

the two of you would wake up and get out of bed on your own time, whether the other is awake or not (though you usually wake up around the same time, relatively)

in his case, he'll leave a kiss on your head before heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face and stuff

if you got up first, you'd would kiss his bare shoulder and go do the same and once both of you have made the bed, you're ready to start your day

and here, this moment, is one of the times of the day that wonwoo will so lovingly smile down at you, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your face up

and he'd place, on your soft lips, a kiss so lingering and slow that by the time he pulls away to wish you a good morning, his voice is hoarse and it's not because that's the first thing he's said today

you'd settle on the couch for a quiet morning with tea or coffee and maybe some reading

and, in the evening, as soon as you get out of the shower, he's waiting for you with his arms open in a wordless invitation to finally join him

and so you crawl into his lap, holding his face and kissing him, swallowing every little breath and hushed sound he feeds you as your fingers disappear into his hairline to tug on the strands

would never admit it out loud but god, does he love kissing you

he could do it for hours on end and even then it might not be enough

his proclamations of love are quiet and mumbled against your lips after he's been kissing you for a few minutes straight, both of your lips plump and red and wet

any time you call him handsome or compliment him, you get one of two reactions: he's either shooting the smoothest compliments right back at you, or on the rare occasion that you catch him off guard, you get the pleasure of seeing the tips of his ears go red

a flustered wonwoo is delectable, and you're just about the only person that can elicit this reaction from him

even when the members provoke him or tease him about how infatuated he his with you, he can easily brush their comments off

if you rub his shoulders while he games, you've got him wrapped around your finger. will 100% stop what he's doing to spin around to tend to you, even if you weren't necessarily there to ask for attention

he's immediately smiling at you in that way that he does, ie: ˘ᵕ˘

and grabbing the back of your thighs so that you can't move away

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ jihoon

i just know jihoon would be so good at massages/back rubs

you probably don’t even have to ask for one, either. you’ll just be minding your own business and his warm hands will start tending to your neck and shoulders

would probably tilt your head back with his hands half way through just so he can give you kiss as you gaze up at him

at first, you were a little apprehensive about joining him at the studio, fearing you might distract him from work

and he’d ask you to accompany him on a few occasions, never insisting beyond his first request because he respects that you’ve said no, but if you happen to share your concerns, he's so quick to reassure you

"ah, you should have said something earlier! and here i thought you just weren't interested in my job. i've been wanting to show you what i've been working on for ages!"

when you finally give in... you realize what you’ve been missing out on

there’s just something about seeing him in his element, experimenting with different sounds and techniques

he's so focused and passionate and hard working and so good at what he does that your heart leaps in your chest when you see him !!!

and you’re not distracting him at all! he’s asking for your input and your thoughts and he’s just rambling on about different musical things. even if you’re not a musical person, this is the most you’ve ever seen him talk and it’s completely infatuating to hear him speak about something he loves

loves to fall asleep to your voice

he’ll be wearing the most infectious smile from ear to ear, shivering as your finger draws random shapes on his arm or chest and your honey-like voice lulls him to sleep

i think he’d have to have at least one meal with you every day

quality time is probably a love language that he never really knew he liked until he realized how important it is to him when you guys sit down for a meal together, chatting and appreciating each other's presence

it's really about the simple things with jihoon

would get home from the gym and give you a pop-kiss before hopping in the bathroom for a shower

his gym pump…. that’s all

so, so good at comforting you or just having difficult conversations in general

very good with his words so he knows exactly what you need to hear and how to say it

will forever be willing to talk out your doubts and problems—and although he's not vulnerable too often, he might open up and share his feelings with you because he values your perspective/point of view

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seokmin

would die a happy man kissing your lips

such a tender, thoughtful kisser; his hands are holding you, drawing you closer to him with each passing second as he loses himself in your embrace

every kiss with him is so full of intention and emotion (cut to that one time he kissed jihoon’s cheek when he was crying, see link 1 and link 2)

and he will kiss you until both of you have to pull away for air, catching your breaths and giggling a bit amidst recovering

an absolute sucker for you playing with or tugging on his hair—not just during a kiss. at any point throughout the day, run your fingers through his locks and his knees will buckle

loves planning exciting dates and outings to take you on because his memories with you are so valuable (arcade games, sunsets at the beach, picnics, mini golf, bowling, etc.) and i don't doubt he'd like matching outfits...

it would be low-key though, like if you wore a blue top and white bottoms, he'd match you with sneakers in the same shade of blue and white t-shirt or something

i picture him wearing the stupidest little smile when he shows his outfit off to you, too

will be taking plenty of pictures to store in an album he has dedicated to you on his phone, and you already know it has some cheesy title

i think seokmin is such a sentimental guy that anything that involves you or reminds him of you in any way holds so much importance in his heart

the type to keep a post-it note you left for him when you stepped out of the house one time to do a grocery run

if you use hair ties he’ll always wear one on his wrist in case you ever need it, and the day you actually do because you forgot yours, he’s so proud that he had it at the ready!

constantly sends you songs/compiles playlists of songs that make him think of you or your relationship

similarly to jun... do not call this man by his name if you don't want to break his heart. he is baby, or babe, or love, or sweet angel, or darling, or pookie, or baby cakes, or literally whichever pet name you like the most—just don't call him seokmin

as a matter of fact, he will not answer to his name. can and will ignore you until you address him appropriately and even then he might still sulk for a bit

is one of the few members that i think would encourage you to build/develop a friendship with the other guys, and there would be no jealousy at all because he enjoys seeing his favorite people getting along

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ mingyu

has to have some form of skin ship with you at all times

he’s gotten so used to it at this point that it’s almost disorienting to not have a hand on your hip, lower back, thigh, knee, or hand

if you’re wearing jeans… mingyu will have his hand tucked into your back pocket

8/10 times he’ll insist on being little spoon or being the one who goes to sleep with his head on your chest and your arms wrapped snuggly around him instead of the other way around

i mean… what even is there to complain about other than the fact that he’d definitely press his cold feet onto yours and pout when you yell at him for it

gives the most addictive, warm hugs where he completely engulfs you, arms wrapped around your shoulders and yours around his middle (bc he’s so tall) and when your cheek presses against his chest you can literally hear how his heart starts beating faster before it ultimately calms down in your embrace

the first time you fell asleep curled up on his lap, mingyu swears his world stopped

he made sure to stay completely still for the entire duration of your nap

his arm fell asleep and his shoulder was slightly sore for like an hour after but that didn’t stop him from insisting this is how you should nap every time

will lay his entire body weight on you with no remorse

or will scoop you up and lay you completely on top of him so he can stare at your pretty face

needs a hello and goodbye kiss every time either of you are leaving/arriving somewhere

not a light sleeper but wakes up as soon as he feels you pull away from him or move to get up because he’s especially clingy when he’s tired

like, if you wake up in the middle of the night to pee, he’s the type to follow you to the bathroom and hold your hand from outside the door because he doesn’t wanna be away from you

and his eyes are still puffy and closed because he’s half asleep

probably stumbles the whole way there and back but he does it every time nonetheless

it takes him significantly longer to fall asleep when he’s away from you

likes sending you mid/post workout pics so please be proud of him bc he’s so eager to take them and send them to you

another man whose gym pump is insane….. brrrrr

loves showing you new songs he’s been listening to and singing the soft ones to you in a low voice, close to your ear where he can easily kiss your neck right after

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ minghao

oh he's so sneaky and slick

despite how many times you insist on him waking you up before he leaves for practice, he literally can't and won't

when he wakes up and sees you all curled up beside him with your eyes half open and your lips parted, his heart aches at the thought of interrupting your rest

so instead, he just slips out stealthily and gets ready without making any noise, constantly peeking over his shoulder if he hears you shuffle around under the covers

before he leaves, he'll plant a small kiss on your cheek and leave you a sweet note on his side of the bed instead of a text so it feels a little more personalized

but if you do stir awake and whine or call out or something because you've noticed he's gone! he's running over!

might even crawl back into bed to hold you until you're asleep again, even if that means he's running a few minutes late now

the type to handmake you things all the time, whether it's a painting or a scarf or a bracelet or a clay mug

and oh, the lazy kisses with this one. oh, my

they start at your lips and whether or not he intends to take it any further, it always escalates a bit because i truly think minghao would just love kissing in general and he may not be able to stop once he starts

he'd like sucking your bottom lip between his (specifically because he gets turned on by he loves how swollen and puffy it is after he pulls away) as his hands disappear into your hairline or under your shirt to bring you closer

he slowly trails down to drag his mouth along your jaw and neck

mind you, this is all while you're both laying in bed, and he's somewhere between hovering above you and cuddling into your side so his warmth and proximity is dizzying

and on days off where he has nothing he'd rather do than indulge himself in you this is favorite way to pass the time

he lets his warm tongue wander freely over your throat, teeth occasionally grazing the skin

long talks as you guys are readying for bed where he caresses your skin and kisses your fingers

always look so deeply into your eyes whenever you're talking

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seungkwan

seungkwan is your boyfriend, best friend, and biggest headache all in one

conversations with him would be so, so undeniably entertaining

he absolutely loves telling you stories and they're so captivating because he's such a great conversationalist and everything he says is interesting

he'll talk your ear off. you guys would start talking at approximately 8pm, and suddenly the sun has come up and you're still talking ?????

something i think would be very common is bickering

it's always light hearted and never ends in a real argument, but it usually starts when one of you just feels bored and wants to get the other's attention

definitely ends with the victim sulking and pouting and the other having to make it up to them with plenty of kisses and apologies

probably fusses about needing his space to sleep and shoos you away

and by the morning he's completely wrapped around you, snoring softly and peacefully and all you wanna do is kiss his puffy lips because why does he have to be so stubborn all the time

complains if you wanna try his food but he’s always eyeing yours

will do the thing where he opens his mouth for you to feed him a bite and you just have to roll your eyes before giving in

only then will he willingly let you try his

seungkwan's face gets so, so red when you kiss his jaw or neck

he’s ticklish so he’ll gasp or form his lips into an ‘o’ when he feels your mouth there and maybe even start complaining even though he a, doesn't even mean it, and b, is tilting his head up to give you more space

isn’t too affectionate all the time but he does like leaning his head on your shoulder, especially on the couch as you watch a movie

his cheek is pressed into your shoulder blade as he's fidgeting with your fingers

kisses your arm repetitively !!! leaves a bunch of little smooches behind while he’s there

would also kiss your beauty marks/freckles

seungkwan memorizes your orders at restaurants and coffee shops so that he can surprise you with them when he comes over

would love going on walks with you during all the different seasons and talking to you about the changes in the trees and the weather

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ vernon

finds literally anything you say funny

will follow you around the store if you go shopping just carrying what you pick out/would carry your bag or purse for you most of the time

you may have to initiate a lot of the affection at the beginning of the relationship until he gets comfortable with it

it’s not that he gets flustered or anything, he just might not take the initiative at first

but once he does, his go-to is looping his pinky around yours and just holding it in a resting state, regardless of what you’re doing

in the morning, he wakes up before you and just goes on his phone until you wake up

and as soon as he notices you’re awake he’ll tilt the phone to you, showing you a tiktok he found funny

and i just KNOW his brightness is maxed out, too

you guys end up taking accidental naps all the time

he’s in bed on his phone when you come in and when he sees you, he lifts up his arm so that you’ll come and lay with him

and the two of you are just scrolling through videos on his phone until you both somehow fall asleep for the next three hours

your family and friends would absolutely love him :(

kisses with him start off as lazy pecks, lips smacking a few times before one of you gets the urge to deepen it and then his hands are slowly coming up to cup your face or hold your jaw

would also kiss the corner of your lips

favorite cuddling position is the generic ‘your head on his chest’ because when he feels you look up at him he’ll glance down to meet your eyes and pucker his lips to request a kiss

that, or just spooning because he likes curling up into your back for warmth

leaves a kiss on your hair while he’s there

i’m sorry but he WILL fall asleep while you’re talking

he doesn’t mean to but your voice is so soft and nice to listen to that he’ll try resting his eyes and end up up knocking out

vernon carries a picture of you in his wallet

it’s the first picture he remembers deeming as his favorite of you, and he printed a copy of it so he could carry it around when he was traveling or touring

and he doesn’t just have it there for show or for whenever he pulls out his wallet to pay for something

he will frequently pull it out so he can gawk at the picture of you when your time zones are different and he can’t call or text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ chan

your hand might as well be permanently attached to his because he is always intertwining his fingers with yours

kisses on your knuckles and soft proclamations of love as he ogles you with the softest, most heartsick look on his face

will kiss your temple as his arms wrap around you, one hand coming up to gently caress your cheek

makes such an effort to learn about/show interest in the things that you like

even if he doesn't know anything about it, he will sit and watch you, pondering the techniques out loud as well as other questions he may have

could listen to you talk absolutely forever. literally anything you have to say is automatically the most interesting thing ever

he is 100% whipped for you and he doesn't even care if the other members poke fun at him for it. will never feel even a sliver of embarrassment because what is there to be embarrassed about? he bagged you... that's the biggest win in his book

even if they poke fun at him, they'd never poke fun at you. in fact, the members are so fond of you + they're so grateful that chan has someone like you who makes him so happy

and he knows they love you, which is why he tolerates their jokes

nibbles on your neck in the morning/before bed as he breathes in your scent

always making you laugh. at all times, in both unserious and serious situations, at the best and worst times... ever since you met this boy, you're always laughing

he's so quick witted that even when you guys are arguing about something, he'll end up cracking some wise ass joke and suddenly you're both doubling over, the topic at hand vanishing at once

any and i mean any act of service you do for him will not go unappreciated or unnoticed

you've cooked him a meal or folded his clothes? he's melting, pouting and whining at you because you didn't have to do all that :(

he's just constantly reminded how lucky he is to have you

the most supportive boyfriend ever

also your personal hype man

not only will you always feel so beautiful around him because he makes sure to tell you just how amazing you always look, but any and all doubts you have are gone

with chan, you feel like you can tackle absolutely anything because he gives you so much confidence and reassurance; always knows exactly what to say so that you feel loved and assured

and you figure, if he believes in you that much, there's no reason you shouldn't believe in yourself

⋆ ★

[boypied]

FULL OF LIFE.

pairings: nate jacobs x male reader

summary: nate decides to come after maddie's slightly younger brother, which he ultimately succeeds in by using his charm and sexual appeal.

requested by: @jaysreyess - here

warnings: smut, gay slurs, anal sex, unprotected sex, breeding, ass eating (r!receiving), being watched during sex, cheating.

Nate aggressively pushes your head straight into the pillow to keep you quiet. He was conflicted by hearing how loudly you were moaning, it showed how fucking good he was making you feel and that made Nate feel like a faggot. Either side of your asscheeks was one of Nate's thick hands gripping onto a cheek each, holding them wide open so that his tongue can dip in and out of your pulsating asshole. "N-Nate!" You groan out in agonising pleasure as your rock hard cock painfully pulsates as he leaves it alone. He slowly pulls away as your body exudes all its power and drops down against your satin sheets, "mhm" you whimper out as the feeling of him pulling away was all too much as he takes away all the pleasure that you were living for, for the past whole hour that he had spent eating you out.

Nate flips you over and lines up his cock with your hole and he gently thrusts forward and he watches how your cock disappears into your warmth, "nate!" You whimper out in slightly shock as you've never experienced the size of a cock that big. Nate was blessed with a nine inch and graced with a thick cut delicious dick. Your phone has been blowing up for a while, so as he continues to pound back and forth, he picks up your phone as his eyes dart back and forth from the phone to your face. Nate smirks as he picks up the phone, and he doesn't even need to tell his body to move his hips in a rough manner as your tongue drops out and spit runs across it. "Good boy," he mumbles under his breath until he answers one of the many calls and clicks onto face time.

"Hey- WHAT THE FUCK!" you hear the sound of your boyfriend down the end of the phone, you hear how loud he shouts trying to get through to you. You don't even have a second thought about running to take the phone out of Nate's hands as he continues to pound away at you, one thrust at a time. "Y/N! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? " he shouts down the phone, and Nate turns the camera back to himself as he shows your boyfriend him thrusting his cock deep into your asshole, "He's getting fucked by a real man!" Nate groans out in agonising pleasure as he chuckles loudly with each thrust of his cock. Your moans echoe throughout the room, and your boyfriends phone echoes with the sound of another man pleasuring you in an ungodly way.

Nate's one hand gripped onto your hips as he stopped focusing on your boyfriend on the phone, and his eyes travelled down to your asscheeks and he admires the way they jiggle with each thrust of his cock. "Look at how happy he is!" Nate grunts out between thrusts as he turns the camera onto your face as your eyes are fluttered back and your tongue is sticking out as sweat drips down your face and you pant, your body convulsing in pleasure. Nate turns the camera back onto him to notice that your boyfriend had hung up at some point when he wasn't looking, leaving nothing but a message that said, "I'm done." Nate just stares at it for a moment while laughing as he throws your phone to the side, and he grips your hips with both hands, and he begins to pump his cock in and out of you. As he piston fucks you your cock bounces up and down, hitting your stomach and Nate's perfectly sculpted abs.

Nate piston fucks into you, roughly and dominantly which ultimately causes you to shoot your load all over your body. You lean up slightly to watch as your cock spurts out cum and paints your stomach white, hands free. Nate smirks as he watches how pleasure you've become, he fucks into you a couple more times until he shoots thick ropes of his white seed into your asshole. Your eyes widen in pure bliss as you feel your walls contract around his cock as he pumps your stomach full off his seed, "Nate!" You whimper out as he leans down and presses his lips against yours "just..Shh, baby. Enjoy it, " he whispers in your ear as he starts breeding your asshole with a couple of thrusts until he pulls out of you. You whimper slightly at the disconnect until Nate pulls your body close to his and you close your eyes and smile as his cum drips out of your asshole and down your asscheek.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold @sluttyhusband

nate jacobs (short)

[haechanniesluvr]

Why’d you only call me when you’re high? | Thanos x fem!reader

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪now playing: habits by tove lo…⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

synopsis: you and thanos had a messy break-up after a 2 year relationship. you knew of his addiction, and he never did anything to change it. sick of him not changing and you beginning to develop your own addiction, you left him. of course, he won’t let you leave his life that quickly, deciding to ring you every other day when he got high.

warnings: mentions of drug use, swearing, …high people(?), this is a little toxic, making out… messily, kind of smut?? help OH GOD I CANT WRITE SMUR IM SO SORRY ITS BAD SKJDKHDUHDWJK, okay they dry hump sorry

songs for this fic: never be like you (flume, kai), habits (tove lo), why’d you only call me when you’re high? (arctic monkeys), headlock (imogen heap), me and your mama (childish gambino).

…

vrrrr… vrrrr…

your phone vibrated against your bedside table for the 5th time in 10 minutes. begrudgingly throwing aside the book you were reading, you picked it up with a groan. whoever this was was beginning to piss you off. big text flashed on the screen, ‘DONT ANSWER!!’. your adrenaline pulsed through you. it was thanos, who you had decided to change the name of in your phone to avoid any temptation of texting him. you were a sucker for drunk texting, meaning everytime you got a little tipsy, you fucking missed him, missed the names he’d call you, missed his bright hair that you would run your fingers through, missed his co-

“baby..”

did you just answer that fucking call? thanos’ voice struck your ears as your eyes widened in disbelief.

“oh fuck uh-“ you stuttered out as you tapped your screen repeatedly, trying to hang up. as quickly as you had declined, the buzzing persisted yet again. swallowing your saliva and your self-respect, you clicked that green button.

“dont hang up. please.” his voice rang out again. thanos’ speech was slurred, a clear indicator he had taken a pill. again. you let out a shaky breath, awaiting his next few words.

“please just listen to me, you don’t have to say anything. miss you so fucking bad. and.. and it’s not the drugs saying that.” he inhaled deeply. “come over.”

“what?” you spat out, immediately sitting upright in your bed.

“come over baby… please. need you here.. need you in my arms, my beauty flower.”

…

your lack of self-respect was seriously astounding. as soon as you had hung up, you were running over to your front door, stringing a scarf around your neck and shoving on a pair of shoes. is this seriously how you were spending your night? the time stood 11:13pm on your phone as you briskly walked over to thanos’ apartment. god, he had no idea how much he played on your mind. it was stupid. you decided to end things, convincing yourself he had issues you couldn’t fix. but in the end, you were just like him. but you weren’t battling a drug addiction, you were battling an addiction to him.

you ran up the first flight of stairs, quickening your pace right over to his door. hesitantly, you raised your fist to knock. before you could, the door swung open.

thanos stood slumped against the doorway, resting his elbow against the frame. his brows were knitted, a glaze visible over his eyes. suddenly, he pulled you inside, slamming the door and pulling you tight to his chest. burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply, his hands roamed around your back, fumbling to remove your coat.

“hold on, hold on,“ you protested, pushing him off you. you began shaking your coat off your arms, letting it drop to ground along with your scarf. his apartment was filled with a dark purple hue, caused by his led’s he had around his tv area.

his face had melded into one of desperation as he watched you remove your outer layers, and he could barely hold back pouncing on you. grabbing your wrist, he took you over to the couch, pulling you onto his lap.

“missed this pretty fucking face.” he whined as he cupped your cheeks, moving his hands down to your hips, squeezing slightly. childish gambino’s ‘me and your mama’ rung out through the apartment, the deep purple lighting making it hard to see, and just a little more exciting.

“can’t believe you. high as shit.. ringing me up like some desperate dog.” you spoke into his ear, feeling him grip your hips a little tighter.

reaching into his shirt, he pulled out his signature cross, popping out a small pill. he held it out on his hand, watching how you stared at it with wide eyes, visibly battling your morals. an idea surged through you. taking the pill, you stuck your tongue out and placed it on the tip before delving to his lips. your tongues tangled against each other as you felt the pill dissolve. he angled his hips up slightly, causing you to gasp into his mouth. a string of saliva connected your lips as you pulled away, both of your eyes hooded with need.

“you were always so dirty, i fucking swear. you drive me crazy..” thanos groaned, grinding his hips upwards harshly. a small whine slipped from between your lips as he latched himself onto your neck, licking and sucking dark hickies into the sensitive flesh. his hand held the back of your head, his rings digging in with how hard he was gripping you. his other hand on your waist, he had you in a way that told you he never wanted you to leave.

the music got louder, as did your moans with the way he was practically humping you through his sweats.

“god m’sorry… m’sorry i left you alone..” you whined out, pressing your forehead against his. “should’ve helped you..” he stopped for a moment, holding your face tenderly.

“m’getting better. promise baby.” he smirked, nipping at your neck again, his hands holding you against him as he grinded slightly faster against you. he found that one sensitive spot he knew all too well, the area where your neck meets your shoulder. he nipped it slightly, causing you to tug his hair. as you tugged, he moaned, pushing you harder down onto him, his ministrations getting faster indicating he was getting close. with every movement of your hips, he let out a small whine. these whines became louder and more frequent before he finally dropped his head onto your shoulder with a loud groan, hips twitching and rutting up into you as he stained his sweats.

you carried on moving against him, chasing your own high. you ignored his desperate grabs at your hips to get you to slow down, too focused on cumming against his sweats.

“wait baby please c-can’t.. cant-“ you kissed him, quietening him before your legs started shaking. he moaned into the kiss as he felt you convulse in his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. as you came down from your high, your body melted into his chest. his heartbeat was erratic.

“god, fuck, i’m gonna get sober for you. won’t loose you again flower i promise.”

[moonselune]

companions and drunk reader crying and cuddling with scratch + owlbear :33

I did this set at the reunion party because for some reason I thought that was part of the prompt but hey ho, some fluff to warm our souls and brighten us up during this darkside of the year <3

Karlach:

The reunion party was in full swing, the lively hum of conversation and laughter filling the air. Music played from a makeshift ensemble, and the scent of roasted meat and ale mingled with the crisp night breeze. You and Karlach had been inseparable for most of the evening, both of you reveling in the joy of being free from the hellish grasp of Avernus - even if it was a brief respite. Friends surrounded you, their faces lit with genuine smiles—a rare luxury in the trials you’d all endured together.

But as the night wore on and the drinks flowed freely, Karlach found herself chatting animatedly with Wyll and Gale about some shared escapades. It wasn’t until a lull in the conversation that she noticed your absence.

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the crowd. Where had you gone? You’d been right beside her just moments ago. Her heart sank slightly as her mind played through the possibilities, but then she noticed a faint commotion near the far side of the camp, where the light of the bonfire barely reached.

Curiosity and concern prompted her to investigate.

As she approached, Karlach was met with a sight that was both hilarious and heartwarming. There you were, sprawled on the ground, your cheeks flushed from too much drink, nestled comfortably between Scratch, who was contentedly licking your face, and the owlbear cub—no longer a cub but still unmistakably affectionate. The owlbear had draped itself partially over your lap, its massive body radiating warmth, while you murmured incoherent endearments and occasionally giggled.

“You are such a good boy, Scratch,” you slurred, scratching behind the dog’s ears with one hand while your other patted the owlbear’s soft feathers. “And you—big ol’ fluff monster—you’re my second-best friend in the whole wide world. Don’t tell Scratch, though.”

The owlbear let out a low, rumbling coo, and Scratch wagged his tail enthusiastically.

Karlach leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, and just watched you for a moment, her expression softening. The firelight caught in her amber eyes, reflecting the warmth she felt in her chest. After everything you’d been through—fighting, surviving, struggling—it was moments like these that made it all worthwhile. Seeing you so carefree, surrounded by creatures who adored you, filled her with a quiet contentment.

“Well, well,” she drawled, stepping closer, her voice laced with affection. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and you’ve already gone and replaced me with fur and feathers.”

You looked up at her, blinking owlishly, and broke into a wide, dopey grin. “Karlach! Join us! There’s so much love here, it’s like… like a cuddle explosion!”

She chuckled, her heart melting a little more. “A cuddle explosion, huh? Sounds dangerous.”

“It’s the best kind of dangerous,” you declared, patting the ground beside you.

Karlach didn’t need much convincing. With a theatrical sigh, she dropped to the ground beside you, her warm body pressing against yours. Scratch immediately climbed into her lap, while the owlbear shuffled closer to include her in its feathery embrace.

“You know,” she said, her voice low and tender, “I think this might be the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“‘Cause I’m with you,” you mumbled, resting your head on her shoulder. “And Scratch. And Big Fluffy. It’s perfect.”

Karlach wrapped an arm around you, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.

“You’re perfect, babe” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Minthara:

The reunion party was a raucous affair, the camp alive with laughter, clinking mugs, and the occasional outburst of song. Minthara had joined reluctantly at your insistence, her usual composed demeanor barely hiding the faint amusement she felt as she observed the chaos.

The Drow paladin rarely indulged in such frivolity, the two of you had an Underdark to conquor afterall, but tonight she allowed herself to linger, even engaging in a deep conversation with Astarion, who had recently returned to the Underdark to settle down.

As the two shared dry wit and sharp banter, Minthara’s keen eyes darted across the camp, instinctively searching for you. When she realized you were nowhere in sight, she narrowed her eyes.

"Where has that fool wandered off to now?" she muttered under her breath, much to Astarion’s amusement.

“Ah, love,” Astarion quipped, a sly smirk on his lips. “It makes us chase after them even when we’d rather not.”

Minthara rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. She excused herself, muttering something about responsibility, and began to search for you. It didn’t take long—muffled giggles and low, rumbling noises led her toward the outskirts of the gathering. There, illuminated by the faint glow of the moonlight, she found you sprawled on the ground.

You were nestled between Scratch and the owlbear cub—though it had long since outgrown the 'cub' moniker—and were clearly the drunkest she had ever seen you. Your face was flushed, your hair mussed, and your arms were wrapped tightly around the two creatures as if they were your most precious treasures.

“Listen,” you whispered conspiratorially to the owlbear, though your volume defeated the purpose. “We’re gonna take over the Underdark. Me, you, Scratch, and Minthara. She’s so scary and smart. We’ll rule everything. But don’t tell her—it’s a secret plan.”

Minthara crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow as she approached.

"A secret plan, is it?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock disdain. “Taking over the Underdark with a dog and an owlbear? Truly, you’re a visionary.”

You looked up at her with wide, bleary eyes, your face breaking into a sloppy grin.

“Minthara! You found me!” you exclaimed, holding out a hand. “Join us! It’s a cuddle coup.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, though there was a flicker of amusement in her crimson eyes.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, turning to walk away.

But before she could take a step, you staggered to your feet with surprising agility for someone so far gone. With a triumphant shout, you lunged at her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her down to the ground.

Minthara yelped in surprise, glaring daggers at you as she landed unceremoniously on the grass.

“Have you lost your mind?” she snapped, but her anger quickly gave way to resignation as Scratch and the owlbear cub immediately joined in, nuzzling against her.

She froze, her normally stern expression softening as Scratch licked her cheek and the owlbear rumbled contentedly. She didn’t push them away, though she grumbled, “You’ve turned me into a damned pillow.”

You beamed at her, your face close to hers as you slurred, “You’re the best pillow ever. And the best everything else. I adore you, Minthara. You, Scratch, Owlie—you're all my favorite.”

Her cheeks darkened with a faint blush, though she refused to acknowledge it.

“You’re drunk,” she said curtly, her voice lacking its usual sharpness.

“And in love,” you replied with drunken sincerity, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. It was sloppy and uncoordinated, but Minthara didn’t pull away. She sighed, her hand coming to rest on your cheek for just a moment before she let it fall.

“I'm going to kill you,” she muttered, though her tone was more affectionate than irritated.

You grinned, nuzzling against her like a contented cat. “I can't wait.”

Minthara rolled her eyes, though a small, almost imperceptible smile played at the corners of her mouth. As Scratch and the owlbear settled around you both, she resigned herself to her fate, lying back against the grass and letting the warmth of the moment wash over her.

Perhaps you were impossible. But you were hers.

Lae'zel:

The reunion party was in full swing, the air buzzing with laughter, music, and the clinking of mugs. You’d coaxed Lae’zel into attending, promising her that Xan, your precious hatchling, would be fine under the watchful eyes of Voss and the rebels - who were surprisingly more than happy to look after him. Though she had reluctantly agreed, you noticed her gaze drifting toward the camp’s perimeter now and then, her brows furrowed with that familiar Githyanki intensity.

“Relax, Lae’zel,” you teased, nudging her gently. “Xan is fine. Tonight is about us.”

Lae’zel gave you a skeptical glance but said nothing, her hand brushing against yours briefly—a rare public display of affection from her that made your heart swell. For a while, the two of you enjoyed the festivities, sharing drinks and banter with your companions. But as the evening wore on and the wine flowed more freely, you became… well, significantly more inebriated.

At some point, Lae’zel turned to speak with Wyll, who was recounting one of his latest exploits. When she turned back, you were gone.

Her jaw clenched as she scanned the crowd, her warrior instincts kicking in despite the harmless nature of the gathering. She stomped through the camp, muttering curses under her breath as she searched for you.

“You couldn’t stay in one place, could you?” she growled.

It wasn’t long before she heard familiar, albeit slurred, murmuring. Following the sound, she found you sprawled on the ground near the campfire, flanked by Scratch and the now nearly full-grown owlbear cub. Tears streamed down your face as you hugged the animals close, stroking their fur and feathers.

“I love her so much,” you sobbed into Scratch’s neck. “And Xan. Xan is perfect. Perfect little hatchling.”

Lae’zel froze, her expression caught between exasperation and disbelief. She crossed her arms and glared down at you. “What are you doing, fool?”

You looked up at her, your face lighting up with drunken joy.

“Lae’zel!” you cried, holding out your arms. “You’re here! You’re so amazing, and strong, and—hic—beautiful. I love you.”

Lae’zel pinched the bridge of her nose, her shoulders heaving with a deep sigh.

“You are worse than Xan when he is hungry,” she muttered. Turning her attention to the animals, she pointed toward the river. “Drag this mess into the water. Perhaps it will sober them up.”

Scratch tilted his head, his tail wagging, while the owlbear let out a soft, rumbling croon. They looked at her, clearly uninterested in complying.

You giggled, stroking the owlbear’s feathers. “They like you, Lae’zel. They know you’re the best. Everyone knows you’re the best.”

Lae’zel’s irritation flickered, her lips pressing into a tight line as she fought to suppress the small smile threatening to emerge.

“You’re insufferable,” she declared, but there was no venom in her tone.

At her words, you burst into fresh tears. “Xan is so lucky to have you as a mom. I’m so lucky! How did I get so lucky?”

Lae’zel knelt beside you, her movements stiff but deliberate as she pulled you upright and into her arms.

“You’re drunk and ridiculous,” she said, her voice low but steady.

You wrapped your arms around her, clinging tightly. “But I love you,” you mumbled into her shoulder.

Lae’zel let out a small, exasperated sigh, but she didn’t push you away. Instead, she adjusted her grip, holding you firmly against her.

Her fingers brushed against your hair as she murmured, “You are fortunate I have patience tonight.”

You snuggled into her embrace, your tears finally subsiding as warmth and exhaustion took over. Though her expression remained stoic, a faint, hidden smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She did love you, she loved Xan, and the feathered and furred beasts weren't too bad either.

Shadowheart:

The reunion party was a vibrant celebration, a gathering of friends, companions, and allies, each reveling in the hard-won peace after so many battles. You and Shadowheart stood together, hand in hand, sharing a quiet joy amid the merriment. The news that the owlbear cub—now a formidable but still affectionate creature—would be coming back to your farm had filled you both with delight. The prospect of a peaceful life on your little slice of the countryside, surrounded by Scratch, the owlbear, your other small army of animals and each other, was everything you’d dreamed of.

You’d both mingled, laughed, and shared drinks, but at some point, Shadowheart turned to grab another bottle of wine, only to find you had disappeared. Her brow furrowed, though she didn’t panic. You weren’t exactly subtle when you were drunk, and it wasn’t hard to follow the sound of your voice, rising in animated, tearful elation.

When she finally found you, Shadowheart couldn’t help but pause, her arms crossing as she observed the scene before her. You were seated on the grass near the campfire, Scratch pressed against your side, his tail wagging lazily, while the owlbear nestled on the other side, its feathers ruffled as you gently stroked its beak.

“And you’re gonna love the farm,” you slurred, gesturing wildly with the bottle in your hand. “There’s fields to run in, and soft places to sleep, and you two—” you sniffed, your voice breaking slightly as you turned to the animals— “are gonna be so happy. So loved.”

The owlbear let out a deep, contented rumble, and Scratch licked your cheek, which only made your drunken tears flow harder. Shadowheart raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a small smile.

“You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?” she said, stepping into the firelight.

Your head snapped up, your face lighting up as if you’d seen the sun itself.

“Shadowheart!” you cried, scrambling to your feet only to stumble and flop back onto the grass. “You’re here! Come here, come here—cuddle pile!”

Shadowheart sighed but couldn’t suppress her amused grin as you reached out for her.

“You’re hopeless,” she muttered, though there was no real bite to her words. She approached and allowed herself to be pulled down into the pile of fur and feathers, the owlbear shifting to make room for her as Scratch barked happily.

“This is the best night ever,” you declared, wrapping your arms around her and pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’m so happy, Shadowheart. We’re gonna have the best life. You, me, Scratch, and this big feathery baby.”

She shook her head, laughing softly as she snatched the bottle from your hand.

“You’ve had enough,” she said, taking a swig herself. The wine burned pleasantly as it went down, and she let out a contented sigh. “Though I suppose I can’t argue with your enthusiasm.”

As the night wore on, Shadowheart found herself caught up in your infectious joy. She joined in on your rambling talks of the future—of gardens you’d plant, adventures you’d take, and all the little moments of happiness waiting for you both.

“You know,” she said, her voice soft as she leaned her head against your shoulder, “I think you’re right. This is going to be a good life.”

Your only response was a drunken hum of agreement, your arms tightening around her as the warmth of the fire, the animals, and each other enveloped you both. In that moment, everything felt perfect. Everything was perfect. Everything was going to be perfect.

Jaheira:

The reunion party was in full swing, laughter and music filling the air as friends and allies celebrated the peace you had all fought so hard to achieve. You and Jaheira stood together for much of the evening, your hand occasionally brushing against hers in a quiet intimacy. She was radiant in her element, speaking with old friends, trading stories of past battles, and offering wisdom to those who sought it.

At some point, she became engrossed in a conversation with Halsin, the two of them naturally drawn together by their shared love for nature and nurturing. Their talk turned to the orphans Halsin had come to care for, and Jaheira, with her ever-compassionate heart, shared tales of her own tendency to adopt and guide wayward children.

“I suppose I can’t help myself,” she admitted with a soft chuckle. “Perhaps it’s the druid in me, or perhaps just the mother.”

Halsin nodded with a knowing smile. “It’s a noble trait, Jaheira. The world is better for it.”

But as Jaheira began to share another story, she realized something: you were no longer at her side. She scanned the crowd, her brow furrowing in mild irritation.

“Speaking of wayward children,” she muttered under her breath, excusing herself from Halsin with a polite nod. “Now where have you wandered off to?”

It wasn’t hard to track you down; she simply followed the faint sound of sniffling and tearful rambling. What she found made her stop in her tracks, crossing her arms with an exasperated sigh.

There you were, sprawled on the grass near the fire, clutching Scratch and the owlbear cub—though it was hardly a cub anymore. The owlbear sat with a dignified sort of calm, its feathers ruffled from your clumsy affection, while Scratch lay happily across your lap, his tail wagging lazily.

“And you guys,” you sniffled, gesturing to the animals with the bottle still clutched in one hand, “you’re the best. I love you so much. You’re good boys. The best boys.”

Jaheira approached, shaking her head as she took in the sight of you, your face red from tears and wine.

“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, though her voice held a note of amusement. You looked up, your tear-streaked face lighting up at the sight of her.

“Jaheira!” you cried, holding your arms out dramatically. “You’re here! Come cuddle with us!”

“Cuddle?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Darling, you’re drunk.”

“I’m emotional,” you corrected, your voice wobbling as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “And you have to cuddle with us, or—or I’ll never forgive you! Ever!”

Jaheira sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead as though trying to muster the patience of a saint.

“You are worse than Halsin's orphans,” she teased, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her tone. “And that’s saying something.”

Your lip wobbled, and you clutched Scratch tighter.

“Please,” you whimpered, the plea so earnest and pitiful that Jaheira couldn’t help but laugh.

“All right, all right,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “If it means that much to you.”

She knelt beside you, allowing you to pull her into the chaotic cuddle pile. The owlbear gave a soft hoot, adjusting its position to include her, while Scratch wagged his tail even harder at her presence.

“See?” you murmured, wrapping your arms around her as you leaned heavily against her shoulder. “This is nice. Isn’t it nice?”

Jaheira let out a long-suffering sigh, though a smile tugged at her lips as she rested her head against yours.

“You’re ridiculously impossible,” she said softly. “But yes, this is… nice.”

For a while, the two of you sat there, surrounded by warmth and fur and feathers. Jaheira found herself relaxing despite the absurdity of the situation, her arm slipping around your waist as she pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she murmured. You hummed happily, nuzzling into her shoulder.

“I know,” you slurred, the wine making your voice thick. “And I love you, too. So, so much.”

Jaheira chuckled, shaking her head as she tightened her hold on you.

“You’ll be the death of me,” she said fondly. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Gale:

The reunion party buzzed with energy, laughter and conversation flowing freely among friends old and new - thanks to Minsc's addition. You and Gale were nestled in a quieter corner of the celebration, a glass of wine in your hand and Gale gesturing animatedly with his own as he launched into an impassioned tale about his latest trials as a professor at Blackstaff Academy.

“…and would you believe it? One of the students thought it prudent to attempt wild magic on their first evocation test! I spent half the afternoon dispelling chaos and putting out fires—literal fires—and the other half explaining why summoning imps in a classroom was hardly conducive to learning.”

You nodded along, smiling as you watched the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of his work. His passion was endearing, and yet… a mischievous thought crept into your mind as you caught sight of Scratch wagging his tail nearby, the owlbear cub—no longer quite a cub—lounging lazily beside him.

When Gale paused to take a sip of his wine, you saw your chance.

“Fascinating,” you said quickly, standing and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Be right back, love.”

He blinked, caught off guard but easily reassured by the peck. “Oh, certainly. Don’t wander too far.”

You didn’t answer, instead making a beeline for the animals. A few moments later, you were leading Scratch and the owlbear cub away from the main gathering, giggling to yourself as you went. An hour later, Gale finally noticed your absence and set off to find you.

He tracked you down by the sound of your voice, soft and teasing as you lounged in a quiet grove just beyond the party. There you were, sprawled on the grass with Scratch snuggled into one side and the owlbear cub resting its heavy head on your lap. Your cheeks were flushed with drink, your eyes glassy with a mix of affection and mischief.

“And Gale,” you slurred, stroking the owlbear’s feathers as if imparting some great wisdom, “wanted to be a god. A god! Can you believe it? Silly Gale. He doesn’t need to be a god. He’s already… already my god. My love, my life…” Your voice dropped conspiratorially, and you hiccupped. “But he would’ve been a prick as a god. Don’t you think?”

“Do you think so?” Gale’s amused voice cut in, and you turned your head to see him standing there, arms crossed but a fond smile tugging at his lips. You gasped dramatically.

“Gale!” You grinned at him, patting the grass beside you. “Come here! Join us! Cuddle!”

“I think not,” he said, though the smile on his face betrayed him. “Someone has to ensure you don’t declare my divine candidacy to the owlbear.”

Your grin wavered, and you pouted, your bottom lip trembling as your eyes filled with exaggerated tears.

“You won’t cuddle with me?” you sniffled, your voice wobbling. “You don’t love me anymore?”

Gale’s resolve crumbled instantly. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know I can’t say no to that face.”

With a dramatic flourish, you opened your arms wide. “Then get over here, Professor Dekarios!”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the laughter bubbling in his chest as he lowered himself to the grass beside you. Scratch immediately wriggled over to press against his side, while the owlbear gave a satisfied huff and shifted to accommodate him. You threw your arms around him, nuzzling into his chest as if he were the most comfortable pillow in the world.

“See?” you murmured, your voice soft and content. “This is perfect. My god. My Gale.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I suppose there are worse fates than being your god. Though next time, perhaps less wine and more water.”

You hummed in agreement, already half-asleep against him. Gale shook his head, his heart full as he tightened his arms around you and let the peaceful moment wash over him.

Astarion:

The reunion party was in full swing, with the warm glow of laughter and clinking glasses filling the air. You and Astarion had arrived arm-in-arm, though the two of you quickly found yourselves mingling with different groups. Astarion had gravitated toward Minthara, the two of them caught in an animated conversation about how you and he had adjusted to life in the Underdark—a topic Astarion spoke of with a surprising fondness.

You, however, had been immediately distracted by Scratch, whose wagging tail and joyful demeanor were too much to resist. You’d spent some time tossing a stick for him before finding the owlbear cub—now fully grown—lounging nearby. One thing led to another, and soon enough, you’d wandered off, leaving Astarion none the wiser.

When he finally noticed your absence, it was only because Minthara raised an eyebrow mid-conversation. “It seems your partner has… disappeared.”

Astarion sighed, his eyes scanning the crowd. “They do tend to wander, don’t they? One moment they’re here, the next, they’ve likely befriended every stray within a ten-mile radius.”

It didn’t take him long to find you. The sound of your drunken sniffles and delighted murmurs led him to a quiet corner of the grove, where you were sprawled on the grass, your arms wrapped around Scratch and the owlbear cub. Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes glassy, and you were mid-sentence in what appeared to be an earnest declaration.

“You’re just… so cute,” you hiccupped, scratching the owlbear behind its feathered ears. “Both of you. The cutest. I don’t deserve you. Nobody does.”

Astarion stepped closer, his lips curling into a smirk as he crossed his arms.

“Well, well, what have we here?” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “The drunkest I’ve ever seen you, cuddling animals and crying over their cuteness. Truly, a sight to behold.”

You looked up at him, your expression a mix of delight and indignation.

“It’s not my fault!” you exclaimed, sitting up—though the effort made you wobble. “Scratch… Scratch has been fetching me wine!”

Astarion raised a skeptical brow, his smirk widening. “Scratch has been fetching you wine? Darling, I taught you to lie better than that.”

You gasped, clutching Scratch protectively. “Are you calling me a liar? Scratch would never let me lie. He’s too good, too pure!”

The dog wagged his tail innocently, clearly pleased with the attention. He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips as he moved to sit beside you.

“Yes, yes, Scratch is the pinnacle of virtue. Now, move over before you collapse completely.” He pulled you against his side, his arm wrapping around your waist. You immediately snuggled into him, still hiccuping slightly as you continued to pet the animals.

Just as Astarion was starting to feel truly settled, Scratch suddenly trotted off.

“And where are you going, you furry little enabler?” he called after the dog. Moments later, Scratch returned, tail wagging proudly as he carried a bottle of blood in his jaws. Astarion’s mouth fell open slightly in surprise, and then he laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “Well, I’ll be damned. He really is a very good boy.”

He took the bottle from Scratch, patting the dog’s head affectionately.

“My apologies, my love. It seems you weren’t lying. Who would have thought Shadowheart’s greatest contribution to our journey all those months ago was teaching this beast to fetch drinks?”

You giggled, leaning up to press a sloppy kiss to his cheek. “Told you so. Scratch is a genius. The cutest genius in the whole wide world.”

"And what about me, am I not cute?" Astarion asked in mock offence as he brushed a rogue strand of hair out of your face.

"Not as cute as Scratch and Owlbear but you try -hey give me back my wine!" You whined as Astarion took your bottle from you, brows raised, suggesting you try again. You huffed and rested your head on his shoulder looking up at him with big wet doe eyes. "You are not as cute, because you are twice as beautiful."

"I don't know if that makes sense, but I'll take it." He said, giving you back your wine with a small smile. He would have taken it off you, you really were the drunkest he had ever seen but your so-called 'wine' was actually water, Scratch really was a genius.

Wyll:

The reunion party was in full swing, a mix of old friends, laughter, and the clinking of glasses raised high in celebration. The air buzzed with the joy of shared victories and the promise of futures finally free of hardship. You and Wyll had spent much of the evening together, arm in arm, swapping stories and indulging in the abundant wine. It was a rare, beautiful moment to simply be—no battles to fight, no worlds to save.

For Wyll, the sight of you laughing and glowing with life was a reward all its own. But as the hours ticked by and the wine loosened tongues and inhibitions alike, you had somehow slipped away.

It wasn’t unusual. You had a penchant for wandering when the drink took hold of you, curiosity leading you to wherever your heart fancied. Wyll, ever patient and knowing, only chuckled to himself when he realized you were gone. After excusing himself from a lively conversation with Halsin and Minsc, who were subtley trying to out-brag the other (nothing had changed there) he set out to find you, his long strides carrying him through the grove as he kept an ear out for your familiar voice.

It didn’t take long. He followed the soft sound of sniffling to a secluded patch of grass where the moonlight spilled down like a spotlight. There, nestled between Scratch and the owlbear—no longer a cub but still affectionately devoted—you sat, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you buried your face in the owlbear’s feathers.

“They’re just… so cute,” you murmured, your voice thick with drunken emotion. Scratch’s tail thumped happily against the ground, clearly basking in your attention, while the owlbear tilted its head in quiet curiosity.

Wyll stopped, the sight making him blink in surprise. His hand rose to cover the grin tugging at his lips.

“Oh, my love,” he said softly, his voice tinged with both amusement and affection. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and the moment your eyes met his, a fresh wave of tears spilled over.

“Wyll!” you exclaimed, your voice breaking as though his very presence was a miracle. “You’re here! And you’re so… so cute!”

Wyll blinked, momentarily startled, before laughter rumbled low in his chest.

“I’m cute, am I?” he asked, kneeling beside you. His grin widened as he took in the wine bottle lying haphazardly nearby and the glassy, adoring look in your eyes.

“Yes!” you wailed, throwing your arms out dramatically. “Your smile is cute, and your horns are cute, and your eyes are cute, and your hair is cute!” You punctuated each word with a hiccupping sob, your hand waving wildly as if to emphasize your point.

Wyll’s brows lifted in amusement, though his gaze softened with love.

“I see the wine has been particularly generous with you tonight,” he teased, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry for being so… unbearably adorable. Shall I tone it down?”

“No!” you exclaimed, clutching his hand as though the idea was unthinkable. “Don’t stop being cute! It’s the best thing about you—no, wait.” You gasped as though struck by a revelation. “Everything about you is the best thing!”

Wyll let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “You are truly something else,” he said, his voice warm as he reached out to steady you. “Even when drunk, you’re determined to flatter me into blushing.”

Your lip wobbled, and you suddenly looked utterly distraught.

“Even your boots are cute,” you whispered, as though it was the most profound truth you had ever spoken.

That was enough to undo Wyll completely. He laughed, full and unguarded, before leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple.

“Alright, alright,” he said gently. “I’ll take responsibility for being impossibly charming.”

You sniffled, your tears slowing as the exhaustion of the evening began to creep up on you. With a soft hiccup, you slumped forward, burying your face in his chest. Wyll’s arms instinctively wrapped around you, holding you close as he stroked your back.

“You’re a handful, you know that?” he murmured, though his tone held no irritation—only affection. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The owlbear gave a low croon and leaned in, its head nuzzling against Wyll’s shoulder as though to share in the moment. Scratch let out a soft bark of agreement, his tail thumping against the ground. Wyll chuckled, his voice rumbling in his chest.

“You’ve managed to rally quite the crowd,” he said softly, glancing down at your peaceful face. But when you didn’t respond, he realized you had fallen asleep, your breath even and steady against his chest.

“Oh, my heart,” he said, shaking his head with a fond smile. “What am I to do with you?”

Carefully, he adjusted his hold and scooped you into his arms. The owlbear and Scratch followed as he carried you back toward the firelight of the party. Wyll’s steps were steady, his gaze warm as he looked down at you. Even in your drunken, tearful mess, you were his mess.

And he wouldn’t trade you for the world.

Halsin:

The reunion party was nothing short of spectacular. Lanterns hung from the ancient trees, casting soft, golden light over the gathering. Music and laughter mingled with the sounds of the old faithful camp at night, a serene backdrop to the revelry. You had started the evening with Halsin, both of you basking in the joy of seeing friends and allies together again. It was a rare chance to relax, to celebrate the life you had built after the chaos.

Halsin was soon drawn into a conversation about the orphans you and he had taken in. A circle of the more compassionate companions had gathered around him, captivated as he spoke about the children’s growth, their joy, and the home you were creating. His deep voice carried over the crowd, filled with pride and hope. You stood beside him for a time, sipping wine and listening, but your attention was eventually caught by a familiar sight—Scratch wagging his tail and the owlbear, now fully grown, ambling nearby.

"Look at them," you murmured, already swaying slightly as the wine took hold. "Two perfect, fluffy creatures, and they need my attention."

With a mischievous smile, you slipped away, weaving your way through the crowd, wineglass in hand. By the time Halsin realized you were gone, you had already disappeared into a quieter part of the grove. He smiled to himself, fondly amused, and excused himself from the conversation.

“She’s probably plotting something,” he said with a chuckle, following the faint sound of your voice.

It didn’t take long to find you. Beneath a sprawling oak, you were sprawled on the grass, cuddling Scratch and the owlbear. You had an almost-empty bottle of wine in one hand, your other arm draped dramatically over the owlbear’s shoulders. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair a bit disheveled, and your voice carried through the night as you spoke with exaggerated fervor.

"Listen here, Scratch," you said, poking his nose gently with your finger. "And you, too," you added, pointing to the owlbear, who blinked at you with wide, curious eyes. "You’re coming home with me. No arguments. It’s decided. We’re a family now."

Scratch barked happily, his tail thumping against the ground. The owlbear hooted softly, tilting its head as if contemplating your declaration.

You nodded solemnly, taking another swig of wine.

"Halsin might say no, but don’t you worry." You leaned in close, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper that was anything but quiet. "I have my ways of convincing him. Very persuasive ways." You wiggled your eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, giggling at your own implication.

Then, as if struck by the sheer emotional gravity of the moment, your voice wavered, and tears welled up in your eyes.

"But if that doesn’t work," you said, your words thick with feeling, "I’ll just cry! Like this!" You dramatically buried your face into Scratch’s fur, letting out a loud, theatrical sob.

From the shadows, Halsin watched, arms crossed, a bemused smile playing on his lips. Finally, he stepped forward, his voice warm and steady. “Tears, my heart, will not be necessary.”

You froze, your head snapping up to look at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Halsin!" you exclaimed, scrambling to sit up and almost tipping over in the process. "When did you get here?"

"Not long ago," he replied, crouching down beside you. "Long enough to hear your… strategy."

You waved the bottle in his direction, sloshing a bit of wine onto the grass.

"It’s a good strategy," you insisted, pointing at him with exaggerated authority. "Very effective."

Halsin chuckled, his large hand brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I’m sure it is," he said indulgently. "But I assure you, no convincing is necessary."

“What about the other thing?” you asked, your voice dropping into a clumsy attempt at sultriness that only made Halsin laugh more.

“When you’re sober,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You turned back to Scratch and the owlbear, lowering your voice to a loud whisper. “See? I told you it would work. He may be Daddy Halsin, but we all know who the real daddy is.”

Halsin’s brows shot up, a deep laugh rumbling from his chest. “Do we now?” he asked, scooping you into his arms with practiced ease.

You clung to him, your head resting against his broad chest as you continued to mumble incoherently about your master plan.

"Fluffy family forever," you declared, nuzzling into his tunic.

Scratch barked again, wagging his tail enthusiastically, while the owlbear lumbered after you both. Halsin shook his head fondly, his smile softening as he looked down at you.

“You are a marvel,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

As he carried you back toward the heart of the party, you sighed contentedly, your arms tightening around his neck.

“You’re the best, Halsin,” you murmured, your words slurring but full of affection. “The absolute best.”

“And you,” he replied, his voice low and full of warmth, “are an utter wonder.”

I hope you guys enjoyed this, I worked quite hard on it and it was quite a good distraction. Love you all - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[hatsukeii]

think fast / childhood bsf!tsukshima kei x reader

genre(s): childhood best friends x soulmates???? past lives and normal people by sally rooney coded im a sally rooney MEATRIDER!! angsty, gut-wrenching longing, bittersweet / hopeful ending so it's not all bad!! nostalgia is going to carry this fic so hard it's going to be a fun, fun time...

warning(s): eventual smut!! all characters are aged up to 21!!MDNI (at least up until the observatory)!! unprotected sex here remember to wrap it before you tap it!! (sorry kids), female leaning anatomy because smut but pronouns are gn all throughout and honestly you could read it as gn anyways:)) dead dad warning (my dad is NOT dead this was just convenient to kick off the thing), i fw the timeline of the world??? pretend flip phones were still in use in like 2012 or something idk

wc: ~6.3k

tldr; time has a way of reminding Kei of its presence, and its escape. you are the reminder it has been sending to him for six years.

Fate: A power believed to cause and control all events, so that one cannot change or determine the way things will happen. 

It is a sunny afternoon when you step foot into Sendai, Miyagi. A beautiful day of golden warmth beaming onto petals of pink, red, and white, wrapped in coffee-stained newspapers and tied together with a spool of twine. The bouquet lies on browning grass, a contemptible reminder of the time that has passed since your last appearance here, six years ago, and you crouch down to the ground. Now face to face with the engraving of a full name on a slab of polished granite, you hesitate. Your father lived in a language that you can no longer speak, died in a country you no longer call your home. When you whisper blessings and apologies at the gravestone in broken Japanese and slurred syllables, you sound like a stranger. A stranger who sits in a graveyard at noon, with nothing but a bouquet from the nearby florist in hand, and a promise, stuttered out in half-decent Japanese, to return again the next year. 

When a second bouquet falls to the ground behind you, and you turn around, Tsukishima Kei thinks this is what English speakers like you would call fate. He’s a little taller now, and bulkier too, and you have to crane your head higher than you remember just to meet his eyes. You don’t recognise the glasses he dons anymore, the black rectangles from his teenage years swapped out for rounded squares and silver frames. But he has a towel in his hand, a towel that has his initials poorly stitched into the corner with red string. You wonder if the matching one he made you, eleven years ago, is collecting dust somewhere in your dormitory, halfway across the world. 

“You’re back.”

“It’s been a while, Kei.”

You can no longer differentiate Japanese syllables clearly, and your statement jumbles into nonsense in your head. Kei hears the English woven into your accent in the way you roll your tongue like foreigners do, and in the odd intonations that don’t exist in your mother tongue. You don’t even remember your father’s dislike for white flowers. London has truly done a number on you. 

“Why? Why now?”

You bite your nail, a persistent habit that Kei frowns at. He picks up his flowers, and steps towards the gravestone, just close enough for your knee to brush against him for a moment. The bouquet in his hand is wrapped in plastic and filled with red and pink, the white from your own sticking out like a sore thumb when he places his flowers gently on the grass beside yours. He tosses the towel in his hand, opening it up against his palm, and you take it from him. If you cannot get the language right, or the flowers, this is the least you can do. Cobwebs stick to the fabric as you sweep at the granite slab, watching soot and dust fall to the grass. The curves and dips of the gravestone are familiar once again, and you dig the towel into every nook and cranny. You feel Kei’s body shift, before his knee is touching yours and his face is finally level with your peripheral vision. He glances at you, waiting. His knees bounce in anticipation. 

“Never had the chance, college has been a lot.”

Your phone rings as you finish cleaning. The ringtone is familiar, unchanged from when you used to have a flip phone, in fact. Kei hums along to the jingle for the four seconds that the call is left unanswered, before it cuts off into a flurry of English. He catches something about research, and a thesis, his shabby English unable to fill in any more than that. He’s never known you were interested in research, let alone what it is that you’re researching. All he’s known is your aspiration of becoming a librarian when you were six, and his promise to borrow books from you for the museum that he swore he would one day work at. Now, he works at the museum, sorts antique scripts and yellowed books into cabinets and display shelves. He does not borrow books from you. Now, you talk, but nothing makes sense to him.

You end the call, mumbling foreign curses as you shove your phone back into your pocket. Clicking your tongue, you turn to Kei, who stares at the flowers on the ground. He pushes his glasses up when they slide down his nose, and you resist the familiar urge to nag him about buying the right frames for his face. 

“Yeah, college has been mostly phone calls like that.”

He nods, a half-hearted chuckle huffing from his nose. He’s forgotten what it’s like to sit at a graveyard with somebody else, the annual reminder of a lonely death replaced by another this year as you dust off his towel, and drop it onto his thigh. He swipes it from his leg, folding it into quarters and sliding it into his pocket. 

“So you choose to come now, without a word? Not even a heads up? Six years after leaving?” Kei’s voice rises at each question, the same way it did six years ago when you broke the news of leaving Japan to him. This hurts him to ask, that much you can still recognise.

“I would have come sooner if I had the chance. I’ve missed everyone so much.”

You pluck a petal from a white flower in your bouquet, then another, until all that remains is the naked bulb, and scatter them onto the ground beside you. Perhaps the next person that’s been buried under six feet of dirt used to have a liking for them. Kei remains unmoving, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. His knee stops bouncing. 

“How long will you stay for?”

“Today, then Friday and Saturday too. Flight back is Sunday night.”

Six years of waiting, and this is what it amounts to. A weekend and a bit. Despite that, Kei still thinks this must be fate, in all the languages that it exists in. Six years of life, and love, and hurt, all to be condensed into four measly days. Yet as Kei pushes himself off the ground, dusting his trousers off, he still thinks that this unlikely, yet conveniently timed visit must be the answer to his pleas for your return. That this must be some heavenly reward, good karma for visiting your father’s grave annually on your behalf. You watch him turn to leave, and he calls out to you as he walks away from your father’s grave. 

“Everyone’s at Hinata’s old place tomorrow. You should come by if you can.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Change: to replace (something) with something else, especially something of the same kind that is newer or better; substitute one thing for (another).

All it takes is one coincidental exchange of panicked glances at the first throw up of the night for you and Kei to leave together. Hinata slurs a drunken farewell, tries to embrace you as you slip your sneakers on at the door, and you make a note to yourself that you really do not miss most of the people here, spare for the volleyball team. Kei waits at the door, holding it open for when you finally shake Hinata off of your back, and step through. The night is chilly, the warmth in your skin from the indoor heating system emanating into the midnight air. You kick rocks along the pavement as you walk, scattering pigeons that remain awake and active at this time, and Kei smiles at your antics. You still hate birds, and you still remember the trick he taught you when you were nine for chasing away pigeons that flocked around you for food. 

“Who are you staying with?”

“My mom’s.”

The road leads the two of you to a high school. Kei has not come back to Karasuno since graduation. You squint in the dark, scanning the school, and you don’t recognise the new building that stands in place of the old auditorium. He watches you crouch at the plaque next to the front gate, tracing the letters engraved on it with the pad of your thumb. Some part of him blames Karasuno for being a bad place to you, the other parts blame himself for not being good enough to outweigh it.

“It’s changed.”

“Everything has.”

You rattle the locked entrance, the chain and padlock hitting against cold metal. It won’t open, so you look up through the gap of the gate. Six years ago, on that rooftop, was where you stood over a cold lunch box and emptied convenience store drinks, back against the wire fence, saying to Kei, I’m leaving tomorrow. On that day, you had packed yakisoba for his lunch, and nothing for yourself. He could barely respond to your announcement, only dropping his chopsticks and asking you, why? You told him something along the lines of being an expat, and a better school for what you wanted, all in the fluent Japanese you once spoke. Nothing made sense to him anyways. 

When you turn back to him, his hands are in the pockets of his jacket, and his nose is red from the cold air. You stand beside him, staring aimlessly at Karasuno from outside its barriers. 

“Do you still play volleyball?” 

“Yeah, Sendai Frogs.”

You hum, and then wonder why you only asked tonight, and why you’re surprised. He shrugs, clouds of white puffing from his mouth when he breathes out. He tries to blow a wisp of hair away from his face, and you suddenly realise that his hair has grown too, along with his height. It fails, and he tries again. You reach up to swipe at his bangs, before running your fingers backwards through his hair. It parts itself as you lift your hands from his head, and falls into place neatly. A cold breeze whizzes by, and undoes your work, sending strands of gold into his face once again. You snicker a little.

“You know, you could ask my mom to trim it for you like she used to.”

“Nah, I prefer this.”

It isn’t until you turn to look at him properly that you see how much time has passed. He likes his hair longer these days, the choppy hairdo of his teenage years now nothing but an old preference, and you wonder if he is still a loyal customer of your mother’s salon. When he pulls his hands from his pockets and blows hot air into them, calluses line the bases of his fingers, the blisters of his high school years hardened by trials of time and effort. There are bags under his eyes, eyes that are now a little rounder, and softer too. When he speaks, monotone and tired, you realise his snarkiness has dissipated into general frustration. You stare until his eyes dart to you, and turn away quickly, ashamed. Leaving Karasuno has taken your hand and led you to a purpose that you never knew you were capable of. You wonder what the hell it has done to Tsukishima Kei. 

“It looks good.”

He breathes in sharply, then exhales with a huff, shoulders relaxing as he stuffs his hands back into his pockets. You suddenly realise that your fingers have gone numb from the cold of the night, fingertips tingling like a million frost-bitten needles poking into your skin. You also stuff your hands into your pockets, rubbing your fingers against each other to generate some heat. Then, Kei’s looping his arm around yours, and pulling you away from Karasuno High School. He keeps on his straight path, and you stumble along behind his leaping steps. When you round a corner, the night breeze grows into something less imperturbable, and more vicious, pushing the two of you forward from behind in slashes of cold. The sea is near. 

“Is this the beach we used to go to?”

“You still remember it.”

He drags you down a flight of stairs to Fukanuma Beach, and the misty sea air rushes to your head. When he leads you to the shoreline, you hesitate. The sea has been off limits since the two of you were five, a regulation put in place in remembrance of the Great Sendai Earthquake. An earthquake that saw Kei and yourself hunched beneath the same table in the middle of class, huddled next to each other as you cried for your parents. Now, in your final years of college, as the water slips beneath the soles of his shoes, pushing and receding in layers of aqua and bubbles of white, it seems that time has slipped by just as easily too. Time, that saw the fading of the earthquake’s devastation, despite the loss of thousands, including your father. Time, that frayed the string connecting yourself to Kei as you moved through life halfway across the world from Japan. Time, that passes through you like sand spilling between your fingers on a beach you once thought you knew, but has changed like the unprohibited water that seems to push further up into the shore at each tidal wave. 

“They lifted the ban?”

“A few months ago, yeah.”

You step into the next wave that fizzles into foam, and the water crashes into the toe of your shoes. Crouching, you push mounds of wet sand into a cylinder, flattening the top and pushing divots in equal intervals. Kei joins, moulding shorter ones beside your own and drawing windows into the side. You finish, and he stands, smiling at the creation. You cover the top, afraid he will stomp on it, a trademark of Kei’s whenever you built sandcastles with him in childhood. Instead, he laughs, and walks further into the water. When you get up to join him, the hems of his trousers are soaked, shoes also covered in a sheen of wetness. You hop over the castle, and the next wave that comes sends its foundations crumbling back into the sea. 

“We used to do that. You’d destroy it every time.”

Kei chuckles, and looks back to see the half destroyed castle. Clicking his tongue, he returns to the rubble, and you watch his hands push mounds of sand towards what is left standing. 

“I’d always build a better one for you afterwards though.”

He dusts his hands off when he finishes, and the waves fizzle out just before they hit the two-tiered sandcastle. You sniff, holding your arms close to your chest. When Kei looks up, he feels like the summer of being seven years old again, smiling at you with his missing front tooth when you sniffle and laugh at the improved castle he’s put together for you. Now, it is winter. He only grins with the corners of his lips. You only sniff because it’s cold. 

“Kei.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really been a while. How have you been?”

He steps over the castle towards you, careful not to break it. Your hair blows in your face from the beach breeze and your eyes squint from the sand that flies into the air, and Kei takes it all in when you’re face to face with him. When he opens his mouth, some selfish part of him thinks about casting his words into shackles of regret, so heavy that they weigh you down and keep you in Japan, in Sendai, on this beach, somewhere close to him.

“Do you want to stay the night? Like you used to?”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Nostalgia: A sentimental longing, or wistful yearning for a return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition.

Kei does not take you to his family house. He leads you up stairs that make no sense, and hallways that stretch on forever, until you finally reach his flat. He wipes his shoes on the doormat, throws his keys into a glass bowl upon entry, and hangs his jacket on a hook mounted to his front door instead of the coathanger that used to stand beside it. You look around, searching for the shells you once collected in a jar for his tenth birthday. When your eyes land on a jar filled with conches and cowries, you let go of a breath you were unaware of holding. They sit on the top of his bookshelf, above textbooks and file organisers. A knot forms in your throat at the realisation that the jar sits alone in its compartment, with nothing beside it. You’ve done the same to the jazz vinyl Kei gifted you at the airport before your departure. You don’t realise that he’s disappeared somewhere as you stare at the shells, until a shirt and a pair of shorts are thrown into your chest. He stands at the entrance to a hallway, donning sweatpants and an old hoodie, one that’s clearly a size too small. The pocket is lousily sewn on, a result of a mishap that occurred when you had borrowed it once. He doesn’t know that you spent the night learning to sew fabric just to fix it.

“Change. It’ll be more comfortable.”

You scurry through the hallway to his bathroom, pulling the shirt and shorts on hastily, before balling up your clothes and returning to the living room. Kei sits at his couch, now bound in leather instead of fabric, and clicks at the television. You join beside him, legs splaying across his own subconsciously. He doesn’t move. He stops at a movie, one you’ve seen hundreds of times before at his old house. It drones on in the background as he watches in silence, his arms now draped over your knees. The first time he watched this movie, it was in his old home, cross-legged on the carpeted ground with you on the couch behind him. Your hands used to press into his shoulders from above, shake them whenever your favourite scenes came on, squeeze them when you laughed until tears rolled from your eyes. Now that his new flat lacks a rug, he’s willing to settle with your legs on his own. Flashing lights illuminate the dark room in sequences that you can still recall perfectly from memory. He watches the movie. You watch him. 

“Have you been doing good, Kei?”

Turning to you, he pushes his glasses up into his hair, leaning further back. You shuffle closer, legs bending as your shoulder digs into the leather couch. A strand of blond falls into his face, and you lift his glasses to tuck it back, before smoothing your hands over his mess of hair, combing and pushing with your fingertips.The words from the television melt into gibberish when he hums in satisfaction, what is unspoken between you two is more glaring than ever.

“I’ve been okay.” He cuts off, then finds himself thinking of what to tell you first, amongst the recollections of life that rush through his head. “Started working at the museum a couple years ago.” He wishes that you still remember the building, where the marble floors squeaked beneath your slippers, and glass panels lined the walls, hiding away treasures and artefacts that have withstood centuries, maybe even eons of erosion and weathering.

You nod, mind filling with the many museum visits you had with him there. He’s always liked the dinosaurs more than the shells. When you breathe out a chuckle, he knows you’re recalling the time he almost pissed himself at a life-sized, moving tyrannosaurus rex model. 

“What about you?”

“Research. I’ve been doing research about…” you sign in the air, searching for the Japanese words that have slipped from your mind. Surrendering, you whip your phone out, searching for a translation. 

“Archaeology?”

“Yeah, that. No more librarian dreams for me. More dinosaurs, though.”

A smile finds its way onto Kei’s face, one that softens his cheeks and flattens his eyes into crescents. He wonders if amongst the silver plaques and digital displays, your work is engraved in there somewhere. If each time he explains something to some bright-eyed child, who scuttles around the museum as you and him once did, he is unknowingly speaking in your language, translated until he can decipher the thoughts that run through your mind in your research, your memories, your dreams too. 

“Maybe it’s in the museum somewhere. I’m willing to bet.”

“I hope it is.”

Your conversation fizzles back into silence, and the characters on the television do too. The two on the screen sit in a field, mere inches apart. The two of you look at each other, your knees now leaned into Kei’s chest and one of his arms draped along the back of the couch. When he pulls his glasses back to his eyes, and studies you all over again, it hits him that you really haven’t changed all that much, even after your six year separation. Six years older, with the exhaustion of a functioning adult, but you still gnaw on your cheeks, and tilt your head as you ask questions. Six years apart, and you are still you, who taught him to build sandcastles, and introduced him to his favourite movie, and fixed his hair whenever it stuck up in stubborn peaks of gold. When you let your eyes close, and drop your head onto his shoulder, you wait for lost time to tick backwards, until you’re on the rooftop with him once again. In this version of time, you blush when you tell him that you’ve chosen to stay in Japan instead. Pushing your head further into the crook of his neck, Kei’s chin reaches over to rest on the top of your crown. The credits of the movie roll in the background, and you mumble into the skin of his pulse. 

“Can you take me there? I’ve missed it.” Your words send vibrations down his spine, sending his head into a frenzy as he pushes his hands against the couch harder. 

“The museum?” It will be closed for the weekend, but Kei nods anyway. He’s sure he can find his way in through the back. Maybe he’ll take you to the fossils again, let you run your fingers along smooth amber and stone engravings. Perhaps he could show you the new exhibitions, ones that you won’t miss this time, as you have for the past six years. For now, he thinks he will let you sleep on his shoulder, listen to your soft snores, tremble at every hot breath that fans onto his neck. 

The credits roll to the end, and come to a stop. Kei removes his arm from the couch to grab the remote from his coffee table. He rewinds the movie to the start.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

思慕 [しぼ, shibo]: yearning; deep longing, especially when accompanied by tenderness or sadness.

On the final night of your stay, you learn that Kei still giggles when he breaks rules, as he drags you through the back entrance of the closed museum. He maneuvers through hallways of antique paintings and repurposed junk, slips into dark stairwells illuminated by the flashlight of his phone, traps your wrist between his fingers and chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he takes you higher, and higher, and higher. You’ve lost count of how many flights of stairs have gone by when he taps his keycard against a sensor by a backdoor, and pushes it open. The museum observatory, once a mess of bamboo scaffolding and green covers, now allows silver moonlight through its glass dome, boasting billions of iridescent stars nestled in a blanket of hazy midnight. A decade of your anticipation has resulted in a circular space, hundreds of plush recliners lining the circumference of the room, and you wonder how many eyes have watched the stars from those seats before you ever had the chance to. When Kei leads you further into the observatory, you step foot onto the north star plastered on the ground in the centre of the room, where nothing but a telescope remains in a ten-foot radius. He takes a spot on the ground, back pressed against the cushioned edge of a seat.

“I figured this is the best spot. Better than any of the seats, actually.” He plants his feet on the ground, bending his knees and spreading them just wide enough for you to sit in between. You cross your legs, wagging them up and down as your hands hold your shins, and he lowers his legs, stretching them out in front of him. Leaning back, your spine hits a spot between his ribs, the same way it did when you were thirteen, and fourteen, and fifteen, staring at stars from the grass of his backyard. You pity the visitors that have yet to discover the simplicity of stargazing from the ground, hands pushed into the ground for stability, dirt and moisture seeping into the fabric of clothing. Pushing further into him, his breathing is heavy against your back, chest rising in rhythmic ups and downs. For what feels like hours, you sit in silence, eyes trained on your fingers that pick and fiddle. At the realisation that you haven’t looked at the stars in years, something bubbles in your stomach, pervasive, relentless. When you finally loll your head backwards to fall on his shoulder, and the tip of Kei’s nose grazes your cheekbone, you wonder how long he has not looked at the stars for as well. 

“Why’d you stop calling?” His sudden question sends a haze rushing into your head.

You swallow thickly. If the passage of time were a sin, you’d burden it with all your explanations. Telling him that now would seem like some lousy excuse.

“It stopped going to your line a year after I left.” You pause, searching for the right words to use amidst the sea of Japanese and English that you must now sort out. “I only stopped trying after another month, the voicemail just said your number was no longer in use.” 

Kei wishes he could dig his fingers into his chest and rip his heart out. If only he hadn’t stupidly broken his phone that night, five years ago during volleyball practice. If only he had checked his pockets before entering the court, just as he has done hundreds of times before. If only he had this, if only he had that, he might just torment himself for the rest of his life. His breath hitches, shoulder freezing rigid. Time does not differentiate between the knowing and oblivious. It slips and leaks beneath the noses of all that it encompasses, and it is but the cautious few that know to grab it, and join in on its journey. He knows now that he is not one of them, not after he’s cursed at the passage of time over and over and over for his own blunder.

“I broke my phone in a game. Got a new one so the number changed as well, fuck me.”

You laugh dryly into the empty observatory. The occasional twinkling of the stars above do nothing to make his explanation any easier. You think you’ll blame it all on doomed fate that you’ve spent five years trying to find somebody that felt the same as Kei did, to no avail. Blame it on cursed luck that you’ve clawed and grabbed at anything familiar enough, archaeology, jazz vinyls, old DVDs of the movie shared between two, all to remind yourself that he too, was once within grasp. You say nothing, because you don’t see a reason to. Instead, you push your head into his neck, drown in the scent of his cologne, ease yourself into his now grown body. You don’t see him wipe a hand across his mouth, then rub his eyes with pinched fingers. 

When Kei decides to speak again, it is what feels like another hour later. He’s readjusted his posture about fifty times by now, arms removed from the ground and draped over your shoulders. The sensation of your hair against his skin is suddenly more prominent than ever when your hands find his own, holding them closer to yourself.

“If I didn’t find you at the grave, would you have looked for me?” His question is heavy, weighing his chest down as the words leave his throat in a hesitant cluster. You turn to look at him, and your eyes linger on his own when you squeeze his hands once, twice, then a third time. 

“I’ve been looking for five years. Nobody else could take me home.” Your heart rushes to your mouth at your confession, and the bob of Kei’s throat does not go unnoticed. One of his hands comes up to hold your shoulder, pushing it towards himself until your body twists, rubbing against his. You let go of him, pressing your fingers into the ground between his legs instead, and he breathes out shakily, his windpipe suddenly cleared of its uncertainty.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yes, I am.”

His fingers slide down to grab your wrist, before going numb completely. His unoccupied hand peels itself from the floor and settles on the side of your waist. Your mouth goes dry when Kei breathes, hot and heavy, his eyes travelling to every inch of you. A bout of heat rushes from his chest to his head, and his legs, and his arms too. The air between the two of you is thick, and it sends your head into a feverish blur. The ground collapses beneath your knees as they shift to press into the floor, and you come face to face with Tsukishima Kei, who prefers his hair parted in bangs on the sides of his face, and wears silver frames instead of black ones. Tsukishima Kei, who has been visiting your father’s grave on your behalf for six years, and still plays volleyball even in his adulthood. Tsukishima Kei, whose eyes are finally finished with their ventures across your figure, that is pushed up against him on the ground of an observatory, and is learning whatever he can about you when his fingers tighten around your wrists and he kisses you without a warning. 

Once, at the young, innocent age of seven, Tsukishima Kei kissed you in this museum. You had run a little too fast, stepped on your loose laces and fallen onto the ground face first. You sulked at a bench facing some random painting of melting clocks, red dots scattered across a purple patch right beneath your eye. When he kneeled in front of you to grab your face, and pressed his lips onto the bruise for a fraction of a second, he must have kissed the pain away, mending the leaking capillaries beneath your skin as he separated from your cheeks with a pop. Now, he pulls against your wrists to push himself closer, traps you in the embrace of his legs around the back of your thighs, wheezes and stutters against your lips at the lack of oxygen in his lungs. His head is running in circles instead of straight paths, and everything is spinning. When your hands reach to grab at his shirt, and palm at his chest, he pulls away only to rip his glasses off and toss them to the ground. Beneath the glow of the moon from above, everything but your flushed cheeks and swollen lips is a blur. You take half a breath in, before it is interrupted by Kei’s palms pulling you in by the sides of your neck, and his mouth on yours again. At seven years old, he ripped bruising pain away from your face with a kiss. At twenty-one, he forces his pain, and grief, and regret rushing into your heart by pushing himself against you, fingers tangling themselves into your hair as he kisses you, desperate, almost distressed. Every tug at your lips is a confession left unspoken, every time Kei opens his mouth apologies spill out into you in choked groans and sighs. At the sensation of his hand leaving your neck, your arm searches for him aimlessly, before he’s palming at you through your pants. He swallows your sudden gasp, and your fingers grip his wrist until your knuckles go white. 

“Did you ever like me?” You can do nothing but choke out a question against his lips, one you’ve pondered about, day in and day out, since your departure from Japan.

By the way that Kei nods frantically, you’re certain that this is what six years of separation has amounted to. 

Sparing no time, your fingers tug at the hem of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to release himself from the fabric constraints. He does the same, hands roaming until they find the waistband of your pants to push them down, fingers tugging your underwear to the side with a flick. He grabs you by the waist beneath your shirt, yanks your body towards him until something feels right and he can’t help but let out a trembling sigh into your shoulder. And when you finally begin to sink yourself onto him, agonisingly slow, you wish that you had never left Japan in the first place. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you wish that you could spend the rest of your life in this observatory with Kei, your hands wrapped around the back of his sweat-slicked neck. 

When he pulls you down to push further, more pervasively, you fall into him, head hanging over his shoulder and arms squeezing around his neck. His inexperienced hands rock you back and forth against his hips, pulling a flurry of gasps and moans from your throat. He lets himself learn how you taste when his teeth tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it down to expose your bare shoulder. His lips latch onto your collarbone, biting and sucking a trail of red marks up to the side of your neck. You shudder at his advances, and he studies the way your walls flutter around him, the erratic pulses that draw stars around his head, how your nails dig into his shoulders, and send his mind into a senseless orbit. 

When he pushes and pulls at you a little harder, you whimper his name into his ear, reduced to nothing but a babbling mess that nibbles at his neck and kisses up his jaw feverishly. First friend, first kiss, first love. The notion that this is another first that Tsukishima Kei has brought upon you sends your mind spiralling. He should have been your first prom date, first roommate, first dance too. If only you hadn’t left him first. You push your head off his shoulder, hands moving to hold his face instead. A wave of pleasure washes over you when his palm presses against your stomach, and you hang your head low again, a shaky sigh released from your chest. 

When you look up, there are tears in Kei’s eyes. He rolls his head back onto the plush seat behind him, hands lifting you off himself fully, just to push you back onto him again. You collapse into his body, palms pressing against his heaving chest. 

“I- fuck! I fucking loved you! I still do!” He speaks it into the glass ceiling as one hand reaches for his face. He wipes his palm across his eyes, only for more tears to form. They are uncontrollable, relentless as he turns his head away from you. He isn’t sure how he will live again tomorrow, not when he’s finally come to a reckoning with the pang in his chest at every thought of you. He thinks he could die the second you step onto that flight back to London, ripped away from him once again. The reality that he cannot stay buried inside you for any longer than the next couple of minutes haunts him to no end, the idea of being separated from you a second time unbearable to even imagine. When he turns back to see you, head on his chest and fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, he decides that reality can wait until he’s finished with you. 

“I love you too- shit, Kei! I never stopped!”

You rut against his hips senselessly now, chasing some unfamiliar high as your vision fades to black and you scream his name until your throat goes hoarse. Kei barely gives you time to breathe, before he’s coming undone from right beneath you, shuddering and groaning as you relax against his body and go limp. He holds you against him, one hand pushing your head against his chest and the other wrapped around your back. He tucks your damp hair behind your ears, places kisses along your temple so he can hear the hums of satisfaction that sound from your curled lips. 

“Can you stay forever?” He mumbles into your hair, and you turn to press your ear against his chest. His heart pounds as he pushes his cheek into the crown of your head, and your hands crawl up his chest to wrap around his neck. When he looks up through the glass ceiling, the stars have not moved one bit.

“I’ll find you again, wherever you are.”

Time may slip away from Tsukishima Kei like petals that fall off the buds of flowers, water that seeps beneath the soles of his sneakers, stardust that hovers above the atmosphere. Yet he has learned that it has a way of always coming back to remind him of its presence, and its escape. You are the reminder that it has been sending to him for six years.

author's note:

ERM! never writing nsfw again that's for sure but this piece defs had some stuff that i was very, VERY proud of coming up with!! sorry to my minor moots who probably won't read this in its entirety bc of the big MDNI warning... but I honestly don't know how to feel about this piece as a whole... i was super excited to write it but i think i got a little impatient towards the end esp since im always writing at like 3am LOL but i hope you guys liked it anyways!!! i tried really hard to make the dynamic work and i hope it did!!!!!

also ps they exchange numbers again js a little extra bonus that i didn’t get to put into the actual thing

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @akaakeis @laughingfcx @writingsofanomnivore @t0rchknight @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @hiraethwa @fiannee @catsoupki @anonymity-222 @wishi-selfships @kuroppiii

ok love u guys thank u for being patient

[lqveharrington]

Feelings Mutual | C.G.

summary: Your forced to hangout with Cardan at the High King’s birthday celebration. Turns out, you both make stupid decisions when drunk. And what’s the fine line between hatred and love between two being who can’t lie anyway?

pairing: Cardan Greenbriar x half fae!fem!reader

includes: drunk Cardan, drunk reader, cursing, making out, suggestiveness, no use of Y/N, barely proofread (i think that’s it)

a/n: i’m on a reading spree, and working on my projects, so this should help get me out of a huge writing slump.

In Faerie, it was uncommon for a half fae, half human being to be a princess in the court. Your father — the King of one of the many lands — wed a human woman, causing you to become the land’s princess. Of course many of the court thought that you were lesser than them; For such a creation should never hold that high of a status.

Ever since you were younger, you often attended lessons with the High King’s youngest child. At first, you sought out to befriend him and his group of friends. But you soon found out that they loathed you. Because how could a halfling ever be a worthy princess?

So you gave up trying to befriend them. You let the group taunt you for not being full fae, but what was the worst thing they could do? You still were a daughter of a very powerful king. The very king that was the closest with the High King himself.

You and your family were constantly invited to all their gatherings, and this one wasn’t an exception. It was the High King’s birthday, which meant all of Faerie was invited to Elfhame palace to celebrate such a day. The only issue with that meant your father and mother urged you to talk to Cardan and his group.

“Mother, they don’t like me.” You wring your hands together, fidgeting with your silver jewelry.

She clicked her tongue, “Nonsense. Prince Balekin spoke of how much Cardan talks about you when he comes home from your lessons.”

“Wait what?” Your eyes widen at her in disbelief. “Mother, I’m sure they’re words of hate.”

“Is it because you don’t like your dress? Are you afraid they’ll hate it?” She tugged you to stand in front of herself. “You look gorgeous, angel.”

You purse your lips at her compliment. You truly loved the dress. It was a beautiful sage color that complimented your skin tone completely, and the corset really did wonders. There were gorgeous lace details of butterflies that were a shade darker, with a slit running down one side of the dress. It was beautiful, but you feared that it was much too modern for Faerie, causing your thoughts to wander to how Cardan’s friends would insult it.

“No, I love the dress, mother.” You give her a tight lipped smile, squeeze her hands. “If you truly wish for me to find Cardan, I’ll go and be friendly so you and father can enjoy your time here.”

“Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead and a real smile etched its way onto your face.

“Be safe, alright?” Your father squeezed your shoulder before leaning down to whisper words your mother couldn’t hear. “If trouble comes, you know what I’ve taught you. You have your dagger?”

Your lips twitch in excitement, “Of course.”

“Then you’re all set then, kiddo.” He gave you one last look before resting an arm around your mother’s waist. “I’ll come find you when it’s time for us to depart.”

You nod before taking a small bow. You watched them leave and make their way to the throne, immediately engaging with the High King and Queen. They seemed happy, which made you glad that they accepted your mother as their own. Shaking your head, you took a deep breath and blew out the air in one go. Carefully, you made your way over to Cardan. Luckily, he was on his own for once.

“Cardan.” You nod in his direction, watching his dark eyes with flecks of gold suddenly gazing into yours. Without fail, his eyes roam over your body, tail whipping behind himself after gaining someone’s attention.

“Princess! Don’t you look absolutely captivating tonight.” He slurred, red wine dripping out of his glass. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

You raised a brow at the prince. From what you could recall, he didn’t live inside the palace walls. And there wasn’t a chance he could lie either. “You don’t live here.”

“I used to.” He tipped his glass up to his wine stained lips, taking in the drink whilst taking in the sight of you.

“Where are your—“ You use your hand to gesture in the air as you grab your own glass of wine from a server passing buy. Unsure of how to word your question, you sip on the wine, immediately hit by its strength. “Where are your friends, I should say.”

“Off to bother some mortal or do something stupid.” He smiles in your direction as you down your drink and reach for another. “What’s upsetting you, princess?”

“Nothing.” You tilt your head toward him, eyes flicking down from his strange stare to his stained lips. “Just want time to move faster.”

“How drunk do you want to get?” He leans closer to you, fingers itching to pull you into him.

You place a hand to his mouth and push him further away from yourself. He hums as he traces his finger over his empty wine glass.

“How many glasses have you had, Cardan?” You tip back your third drink, missing his smirk while he watches.

“Enough.”

“Enough to forget?” You turn toward the table and grab the strongest drink, carefully downing the drink.

His shadow towers over you as his breath tickles your neck, “Forget what exactly, love?”

“I hate you.” You say against Cardan’s lips, arms loosely hanging around his neck. “I hate you so much.”

He continues to push you backwards as he slams the door behind him, hands finding their place around your waist. “Feelings mutual, princess.”

Letting your hand thread through his hair, you pull him in for a more heated kiss, tugging ever so slightly at his roots. Cardan groans against your lips, pulling your body closer to his.

“This is such a stupid idea.” You unwillingly part as he drops you down on a bed — hopefully one that used to be his. You let out a small gasp as he litters soft kisses on your throat and down to your exposed collar bone. Your hands find his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. “Cardan—“

“Yes, love?” He slowly makes his way back up to your lips, pressing short kisses as you try to make sense of the situation. He stops attacking you with his lips, staring and waiting for you to continue.

You shake your head, eyes glassy with drunkenness as you meet his gaze. “Kiss me.”

“You’re too perfect for me.” He groans again, tasting the red wine from your lips as he kisses you harder. “God, I hate you.” Cardan mumbles as he lets his hands wander over your body, refraining from the more private areas at the moment.

Cardan allows you to wander over his own body, feeling you fidget with the hem of his shirt. Letting your hands slip underneath his shirt, you let out a small sigh before flipping the both of you over. You quickly toss your dagger onto the floor before meeting his lips again, the kiss heightening all your profound feelings.

As minutes turned into an hour more, you both fell into a pit of no return. The shared kisses were intensified, and without either party having a clear mind or being sober, neither could stop the motions that lulled them both to sleep very late into night.

It wasn’t until early afternoon that the pair awoke to the sounds of pounding at the door and a splitting headache.

“Your highness, your father is looking for you.” The voice called from outside the wooden doors, causing you to groan and bury your head into the warmth emitting from your bed.

A beat passed before the pounding occurred once more.

“Your highness—!”

“In a minute!” Cardan shouted, eyes shut from the dizziness and hangover. “For fucks sake…”

Your eyes widen at the voice, head rushing up before falling back down at the impact of a jaw. “Shit, that hurt.” You mutter, wincing when you felt the hangover hit you. Slowly, you remove yourself from Cardan’s arm, slightly frowning when you saw him rubbing his jaw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to slam into you…”

“I think that’s the least of our concerns.” He grumbled, glaring at the door again.

He pushed himself up from the bed, eyes raking over your appearance. He smirked over at you before leaning against the headboard. You crease your brows before looking down and realizing whose clothes you were in — crossing your arms over the loose shirt.

“Princess, I think your father will be a little disappointed in you.”

“Why is that?” You roll your eyes at him, keeping one arm over Cardan’s shirt while running your free hand through your hair.

Your bored gaze meet his amused one, watching him tilt his head. You look away as you weren’t necessarily hiding the fact that you were eyeing his bare chest either.

He pulled you into his chest, despite your halfhearted protests. “Because you have hickeys all over your skin.” Cardan presses a kiss to your cheek, causing your breath to hitch.

All the memories from last name came rushing in, warmth filling your body at the thoughts. Your eyes flit to your dress and dagger scattered across his floor, still thinking of the punishment to come.

However, you did not regret him.

“I don’t think we drank enough last night.” You twist in his arms, lips barely touching his.

“I don’t think so.” He lands a soft kiss to your lips. “I still hate you, love.”

“Feelings mutual.” You straddle over his hips and rest your forehead on his, both your heads still pounding from last night’s activities.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[boothillzvhs]

ꪆ ₊ ˖ ་ NSFW warning:3 || choso x sub!ftm!reader ──|| ( breeding ﾉ mating press ) creampie ﾉ use of nicknames ( baby, pretty, slut,) use of the following words/terms ﾉ cunt, clit, and cervix ﾉ smut with no plot ig:3

310 words T-T

“waah! nng! pwease forgive me! waah! Guh!” You moan as choso pounds into you, your ankles dangled with each thrust “shut it pet, I know you can talk it.” choso said before putting his hand over your scars “so pretty, hm?” He looks down at your cunt, seeing that you squirted “who said you can cum yet?” He slapped your thigh, causing you to squirt a bit “you’re a sensitive little slut aren’t you hm?” “I’m sworry…*sniff*” choso groans “it’s fine, but make sure it doesn’t happen again, ok?” You nodded fastly

“Just a 1 more round ok?” You were wondering why he was being so nice, was it because you said sorry? “O-ok…” you whimpered, moaning as choso thrusted back into your hardly, causing you you to squirt a bit. "one thrust is all you can take? its looking not so good, slut." choso smirked at your face, crossed eyes and drool running down you mouth "what, already fucked dumb? we were just getting started" he said in a cocky tone, "stop..it...i'cant take no m'ore...." you slurred on your words "shshsh...its ok baby, I got you" choso cooed, you felt Choso's cock twitch inside your cunt, Choso's hand slither down to your cunt rubbing your clit, his cock hitting your cervix repeadtly, overstimulating you, making you squirt on his shirt, making his shirt dirty, "f'fuck....im going to cum, let me breed ya, k?" "o'ok...."

choso thrusting into you fastly, it was unhuman, his cock twitched fastly, proving that he was close "gkh!!" choso whimpered before cumming inside your cunt, "fuck..." he pulled out of your now messy cunt, the cum seeping out your heat, he picked you up and walking to your room, placing you on your bed then laying right next to you "I'll be here when you wake up" he kissed your forehead, then you fell asleep..

[scarletwinterxx]

if ur taking requests ~ could i ask for a svt fic where the members are out drinking, then one of them keeps mentioning “baby” and the boys are like ??? who - only for him to lead them to y/n and basically discover their rs!

hellooo had fun writing this one, hope you like it!🤍 i added the morning after hangover 😅

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

It wasn’t every day that Mingyu got absolutely hammered. In fact, it was so rare that when it did happen, it became an event.

An event that Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan were currently witnessing firsthand.

“Cheol,” he mumbled against his shoulder. “You smell good.”

Seungcheol shoved him off with a look of pure disgust. “Get off me, you drunk idiot.”

Mingyu pouted, rubbing his cheek dramatically. “That was mean.”

Mingyu was draped over the table like a man who had fought in battle and lost. His usually sharp eyes were unfocused, his head swaying slightly as he lifted his glass. “To my baby,” he slurred, raising it to absolutely no one before taking another wobbly sip.

Seungkwan blinked. “Your what?”

Mingyu slammed the glass down (a little too hard) and sighed dramatically. “My baby. My love. My girl.”

Silence.

Seokmin leaned forward. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

Mingyu squinted at him. “Since…forever?”

Soonyoung gasped. “Forever? You mean you’ve been dating someone this whole time, and you never told us?”

Mingyu groaned, leaning his heavy head onto Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Cheol knows.”

Seungcheol, who had been silently observing, suddenly stiffened. “I what?”

Mingyu nodded aggressively. “You know. You’re her brother.”

Mingyu blinked up at him, slow and dazed. “Your sister.” he repeats

Seungcheol froze.

Seokmin spat out his drink. Soonyoung choked on air. Seungkwan just screamed.

“My what?” Seungcheol growled.

“My baby,” Mingyu repeated, dreamy-eyed and completely unaware that he had just signed his own death certificate.

Mingyu, oblivious to the chaos he had just caused, fumbled with his phone. His fingers moved with all the precision of a newborn deer as he typed something, grinning as he hit send.

“What did you just do?” Seungcheol asked warily.

“I texted her to pick me up,” Mingyu said proudly, holding up his phone like a trophy.

Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Soonyoung immediately turned to Seungcheol. “YOU KNEW?!”

Seungcheol ran a hand down his face. “I did not know.”

Right on cue, his phone buzzed, and he clumsily held it up. “She’s coming to get me,” he giggled, looking way too proud of himself. Seungcheol, meanwhile, was experiencing every stage of grief in real time.

“HOW LONG?!” he suddenly demanded

Mingyu shrunk back, blinking owlishly. “Uhh… a while?”

Seungcheol’s eye twitched. “Define a while.”

Mingyu thought for a second. “Maybe a year?”

“A year?!” Seungcheol exploded

The entire bar turned to stare, but no one dared to intervene. This was a war only they could fight

“You mean to tell me,” Seungcheol seethed, jabbing a finger at Mingyu’s chest, “that you’ve been dating my sister for a whole year, and you never told me?!”

Mingyu hiccupped. “To be fair, I thought you knew.”

“I DIDN’T KNOW.”

Mingyu giggled. “Well, now you do!”

Seungkwan leaned over to Soonyoung. “He’s got about five minutes left to live.”

Soonyoung nodded solemnly. “I’d say three.”

But before anyone could interrogate him further, the door to the bar swung open, and in walked you. The table fell silent.

You sighed, scanning the scene. Mingyu was grinning like a fool, Seungcheol looked ready to murder him, and the other three looked like they were watching the best drama of their lives.

You sighed again, hands on your hips. “Which one of you let him drink this much?”

Mingyu immediately perked up, his entire face lighting up like a puppy who just saw its owner come home. “Baby!”

He tried to stand up, but his knees gave out immediately, forcing you to catch him before he face-planted.

Mingyu is now clinging to you like a koala. “Baby, tell them. Tell them you love me.”

You rolled your eyes but patted his head. “I love you.”

Mingyu beamed. “See? She loves me.”

Soonyoung looked like he was about to pass out. “I can’t believe this is what takes down Kim Mingyu.”

Seokmin clutched his stomach. “Oh my god, he’s so whipped.”

You sighed, adjusting Mingyu’s weight. “Alright, I’m taking him home before he does something stup—”

“You’re not taking him anywhere,” Seungcheol cut in, arms crossed like an angry father. “Not before we have a talk.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A talk?”

“Yes.” Seungcheol turned to Mingyu, who was happily nuzzling into your shoulder, completely unaware that he was about to get a verbal beatdown.

“YOU,” Seungcheol barked, pointing at Mingyu like he was scolding a misbehaving puppy. “HOW DARE YOU DATE MY SISTER AND NOT TELL ME?”

Mingyu blinked, startled. “Uh… sorry?”

“SORRY? YOU’RE SORRY?!” Seungcheol scoffed. “DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY GUYS I’VE SCARED AWAY FOR HER? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I’VE HAD TO BE AN OVERPROTECTIVE BROTHER? AND YOU, OF ALL PEOPLE, SNEAK IN UNDER MY NOSE?”

Mingyu let out a nervous chuckle. “I mean, it’s not sneaking if—”

“SHUT UP.”

Mingyu immediately clamped his mouth shut, looking like a child being scolded by their teacher.

Seungcheol exhaled sharply. “Have you been treating her well?”

Mingyu straightened up, suddenly serious. “Of course. I love her more than anything.”

Your face warmed, but before you could say anything, Seungcheol narrowed his eyes. “Do you open doors for her?”

“Yes.”

“Do you pay for her meals?”

“Obviously.”

“Do you make sure she gets home safe every night?”

“Always.”

Seungcheol squinted. “Do you let her carry heavy things?”

Mingyu gasped in offense. “NEVER.”

Seungkwan wiped away a fake tear. “I respect it.”

Seungcheol exhaled, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But if I hear you’ve done anything to hurt her—”

“I never would,” Mingyu cut in, looking serious despite his drunken state. “She’s my everything.”

You sighed, adjusting your grip on your very drunk, very affectionate boyfriend. “Alright, I’m taking him home. You guys deal with the emotional damage.”

As you dragged Mingyu away, he suddenly turned back, eyes barely open. “Cheol, I love your sister. She’s so pretty.”

Seungcheol groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna kill him when he sobers up.”

Seungkwan leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “Nah, man. He’s too far gone.”

And judging by the way Mingyu was nuzzling into you as you struggled to get him through the door, they were probably right.

Come next morning, Seungcheol woke up bright and early to drive at your place. Still in his sweatpants and hoodie, eyes narrowed in suspicion. He had one goal: interrogate his sister and make sure that drunk idiot Mingyu had made it home safely.

He wasn’t even mad. He was just disappointed. the two of you kept it a secret.

Actually, no. Scratch that. He was mad as hell.

But the moment you opened the door, rubbing sleep from your eyes, he knew something was wrong.

One, you looked way too tired for someone who should’ve had a peaceful night after dropping Mingyu off. Two, the moment he stepped inside—he saw the lump on your couch.

A very large, snoring, familiar lump.

Seungcheol froze. “No. Way.”

Mingyu, completely unaware of the incoming doom, was sprawled out on your couch, mouth open, one leg dangling off the side. His shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing his stupidly toned stomach (which, if Seungcheol was honest, was annoying in itself).

The worst part? He was hugging one of your pillows like it was you.

Seungcheol’s eye twitched.

“KIM MINGYU.”

The apartment shook from the sheer force of his voice.

Mingyu jolted awake so hard that he nearly rolled off the couch. “H-HUH?”

“What. The. Hell. Are you still doing here?” Seungcheol growled, arms crossed.

Mingyu blinked, looking around like he was trying to remember where he was. His eyes landed on you, then back on Seungcheol, then back on you.

Then he grinned.

“Good morning, baby.”

Seungcheol lunged.

You barely managed to step in front of him, placing your hands on his chest before he could grab Mingyu by the collar. “Choi Seungcheol, relax.”

“Relax? RELAX?” Seungcheol looked personally offended. “You told me you were taking him home last night! You lied to me?!”

You sighed. “I tried to take him home, but the moment I parked in front of his building, he whined about how he didn’t want to leave me. And then he passed out.”

Seungcheol slowly turned his glare toward Mingyu. “Are you kidding me?”

Mingyu, still groggy, only shrugged. “Sounds like me.”

“YOU HAVE A WHOLE APARTMENT. WHY DIDN’T YOU GO THERE?”

Mingyu yawned. “Your sister’s place is comfier.”

Seungcheol took the deepest inhale of his life. “I will kill you.”

You groaned, stepping between them again. “Seungcheol, nothing happened. I put him on the couch and went to my room. Alone.”

Mingyu pouted. “Unfortunately.”

Seungcheol saw red.

“YAH!” He smacked Mingyu on the back of the head.

“OW—HYUNG!”

“You—” smack “—better—” smack “—watch—” smack “—your—” smack “—mouth!”

Mingyu ducked, shielding himself with a pillow. “Why am I getting attacked?!”

“Because you’re a menace! You’re dating my sister and you didn’t tell me! And now you’re sleeping over?” Seungcheol threw his hands in the air. “What’s next, huh? Marriage? Kids? Am I gonna wake up one day and suddenly be an uncle without any warning?!”

Mingyu rubbed his head. “I mean, we talked about kids once, but—”

“I SWEAR TO GOD, KIM MINGYU—”

You smacked Mingyu’s arm. “Stop instigating!”

Mingyu chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. No kids yet, hyung.”

Seungcheol sat down, head in his hands, muttering to himself. “I need a drink.”

“It’s 8 AM,” you deadpanned.

“I don’t care.”

Mingyu sat up properly, finally looking a little guilty. “Look… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, hyung. I really am. But I swear, I love her, and I’d never do anything to hurt her.”

Seungcheol lifted his head just enough to glare at him. “You better not”

Seungcheol leaned back, rubbing his temples. “I need coffee.”

You sighed, heading to the kitchen. “I’ll make some.”

Mingyu got up to follow you, but Seungcheol yanked him back down by his collar.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Mingyu blinked. “To help?”

“No. You stay right here,” Seungcheol ordered. “We’re gonna have a little chat about what it means to date my sister.”

Mingyu paled. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.”

From the kitchen, you could hear Seungcheol start another lecture while Mingyu whined like a scolded puppy. You just sighed, shaking your head. This was going to be a long morning.

Mingyu was sweating not from a hangover. Not from embarrassment but from sheer, soul-crushing terror because Seungcheol had officially entered strict, overprotective brother mode—arms crossed, gaze sharp, eyebrows furrowed like he was a detective about to crack a case.

Mingyu, on the other hand, was sitting on the couch like a kid in the principal’s office. He wasn’t even allowed to sit comfortably. No, Seungcheol had made him sit up straight, hands on his knees, like he was in military training.

You, the supposed love of Mingyu’s life, were casually sipping your coffee in the kitchen. Not helping at all.

Seungcheol cleared his throat, flipping to an imaginary new page in his mental interrogation notebook. “Alright. Let’s start from the beginning.”

Mingyu gulped. “O-Okay.”

“When did you take my sister on your first date?”

Mingyu straightened up. “Uh, last summer! I took her to—”

“What date?” Seungcheol cut in. “Day, month, time?”

Mingyu blinked. “H-Hyung, I don’t even remember what I ate yesterday—”

“WRONG ANSWER.” Seungcheol slammed his hand on the coffee table, making Mingyu flinch. “If you really love her, you’d remember the exact moment you took her on your first date.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oppa, even I don’t remember the exact date.”

Seungcheol turned to you dramatically. “That’s fine. You don’t have to. He does.”

Mingyu’s jaw dropped. “Why am I the only one being interrogated?!”

Seungcheol shot him a glare. “Because you’re dating my baby sister.”

You scoffed. “I’m the same age as Mingyu—”

“Baby. Sister.” Seungcheol repeated, emphasizing each word with another slam on the table.

“Alright, next question,” Seungcheol continued. “Who confessed first?”

Mingyu hesitated. “Uh… technically, she did?”

You gasped. “EXCUSE ME?!”

Mingyu panicked, hands waving in the air as if it will magically turn back time and undo what he just said “WAIT, NO—I MEAN—”

Seungcheol’s glare deepened. “So you tricked her into confessing first?”

Mingyu looked horrified. “NO, NO, HYUNG, IT’S NOT LIKE THAT—”

“You’re telling me you had months, maybe years to confess, but you made her do it first?!”

“I WAS NERVOUS!”

Seungcheol scoffed. “Nervous? Nervous?! You’re six feet tall and built like a tank, but you were scared to tell my sister you liked her?”

Mingyu pouted. “Feelings are scary, okay?”

Seungcheol shook his head in disappointment before jotting something down on his invisible clipboard. “Alright, next question. When did you first kiss?”

Mingyu finally perked up, smiling fondly. “Oh! I remember that one! It was when—”

Seungcheol raised a hand. “SPARE ME THE DETAILS.”

Mingyu immediately shut up.

You sighed. “Oppa, you’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m being thorough.” Seungcheol leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Next question, Mingyu. What are your intentions with my sister?”

Mingyu hesitated. Then, with full confidence, he said, “I want to marry her.”

You nearly choked on your coffee. Seungcheol? He nearly flipped the entire table.

“WHAT?!”

Mingyu threw his hands up in surrender. “W-Well, not now obviously, but one day—”

“ONE DAY?!” Seungcheol looked personally offended. “You’re already thinking about MARRIAGE?! HAVE YOU EVEN MET OUR PARENTS?! DO THEY KNOW”

Mingyu blinked. “Yes? No? I mean I haven't asked them ofcourse but remember your dad went out for drinks with us...”

Seungcheol’s eyes widened even further making Minyu stop talking

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, I need another coffee.”

You snorted. “Need some alcohol instead?”

“DON’T TEMPT ME.”

Mingyu sighed, rubbing his temples. “Hyung, please. I love her, okay? I swear on my life, I would never do anything to hurt her.”

Seungcheol looked at you, eyes softening just a bit. Then he turned back to Mingyu with a sigh. “Fine. But if you ever—ever—make her cry…”

Mingyu gulped. “You’ll kill me?”

Seungcheol leaned in, voice dangerously low.

“No.”

Mingyu blinked. “No?”

“I’ll make sure you wish I did.”

Mingyu turned pale.

You just sighed, shaking your head. “Okay, enough. Oppa, go home. Mingyu and I are going back to sleep.”

Mingyu’s head snapped up. “Wait, together—”

Seungcheol grabbed a cushion and threw it at Mingyu’s face.

“DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT FINISHING THAT SENTENCE.”

[writingthroughmyass]

Service Animal (Part one)

My mans Logan Howlett X Reader (afab)

Part two here

WARNING: This is soooo self insert it's not even funny. I get weird migraines that present like absent seizures and thought it would be nice to get a warning beforehand by my favourite babygirl Logan (like my own personal service animal). This is gonna be in three parts, it's mostly finished and ends in smooshing so be ready for that ;)

UPDATE: turns out my migraines are actually mini strokes :)

The after effects of using your power was kicking your ass.

In a daze, you made it to your private room and went straight to your bathroom. You felt the nausea rising up in your throat and quickly opened the toilet lid to throw up. 

The multiple alternate realities of what could have happened tonight flashed before your eyes. Ororo, Jean, Scott, Logan, all collapsed on the floor, dead. Their screams played in a relentless loop in your head; you were dissociating badly. Your surroundings melted away until there was nothing but the countless ways they could have died if you hadn't bent reality to avoid it. 

Always. It's always like this. 

Gradually, you begin to return to your body, only to realise there was someone in the room with you, holding your hair back. 

Terrified, your body snapped up from its kneeling position to face the intruder. 

“Woah, hey, it's just me. Calm down.”

“L-Logan?” you slurred, suddenly feeling self conscious of the smell of your breath. 

“I knocked and called out but you didn't answer. So I came in to check on you.” 

You eyed him, feeling suspicious of how out of character this was for him. 

“Why are you looking at me like I'm lying? I'm not totally heartless,” he said defensively.

“Why'd you come in the first place to see me though? I thought you were pissed with me,” you grumble.

When you'd overdone it with your powers, Logan threw a hissy fit and yelled at you for going too far. While you knew it was out of care, it still rankled you that he was acting as if you were a child. You knew what you were doing. 

“I… just had a bad feeling,” he said quietly. “Y'know how I've got my heightened senses. I could tell something was off with you.”

“I'm fine. Just need to rest. This is normal for me.”

You turned around to the bathroom sink and grabbed your toothbrush. You gave your teeth and tongue a quick clean, wanting to just wash all the blood off your body so you could sleep. 

It felt like you had a raging hangover from drinking Everclear all night. 

When you turned from the sink you noticed Logan was still there. 

“Uh… need something? I wanna get ready for bed and pass out.”

“Yeah, I need to know you're okay,” he says.

“I told you, I'm fine. I'm going to shower so please leave.” 

Your patience was wearing thin. But you were also aware that some of it was nervousness coming out as aggression. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, although his attitude left much to be desired. His behaviour tonight was quite frankly really sweet and it was psyching you out. You were already in the midst of losing touch with reality and his actions were so contradictory to his usual self that it was causing you a psychotic break. 

“You're not listening to me,” he ground out, losing some of his own patience. “I'm telling you that something is wrong with you.” 

You stared silently at him, mouth slightly hanging open. 

“Okay, that came out the wrong way.” He was ruffling his hair in agitation. Cute. “What I'm saying is- I'm… ah…”

“Please, Logan, I just want a shower so I can go to bed…”

“Look, I'll just wait in your room and I'll leave once you're in bed safe, ‘kay,” he says, turning to the door and walking out, shutting it behind himself. 

Fuck. 

You just wanted to be alone so you could have a good cry. You were incredibly confused about what in the world was going on but now you were really getting scared. And Logan's words were not helping. 

What if he's right and this time your connection with reality has been completely severed? But what else were you supposed to do? Let them all die? Even with your special training with Charles, your power was so unruly and chaotic that it was terrifying. You had to be careful or there would be no way back. 

You got undressed and turned on the shower, stepping inside. It was only once you were under the hot stream of water that you realised you'd left your pyjamas in your bedroom. You groaned aloud. Fuck, now you'd have to walk in front of Logan in nothing but a towel. Why the fuck was he here? You wished he'd just leave. 

You watched the dried blood wash away from your skin, turning the floor of your shower a bright red. 

You felt your stomach drop and your head turned fuzzy. The sound of your shower disappeared. The safety of your surroundings melted away. 

Scott, his eyes gouged out from his head. Ororo’s limbs crumpled every which way, her eyes clouded over not because of her powers but because she was lifeless. Jean, her neck holding on to her body by a thread, her cranium blasted open and her brain dripping down her face. 

Logan, on the ground, ripped to shreds, his Adamantium bones showing through his torn flesh. And the wounds weren't healing. 

It was always like this. As if you were being punished for playing god. It was as if all the horrible realities you prevented from happening still lived on but solely in your mind, driving you insane. It left scars of trauma on your psyche, Charles had told you. So you had to be careful in how you used your powers or you may become completely untethered from reality. A fate worse than death. 

Vaguely, you could hear yourself mumbling and gasping and swallowing loudly, trying to find some kind of equilibrium in the mess of your mind. 

You were trying desperately to connect back with your body but at the same time you didn't want to because it only meant having to fight this same battle over and over again. 

Seeing your friends die before your very eyes in hundreds of thousands of different ways, experiencing each traumatic story to its conclusion. Only to have it all unravel into a reality where none of it happened, but the whiplash makes you doubt this reality too. It's always too good to be true. You feel it in your bones that you don't deserve this. That the way you twist reality is wrong and one day it'll catch up to you in the worst possible way. 

You feel water running down your face and remember that you're in the shower. You try to ground yourself and come back to your body. You hear the water splashing, feel the ground beneath your feet, the solid embrace around you. 

You try to move but you can't. Finally, you snap fully to your body. Your mind is groggy, feeling like you'd been hit by a truck. But there's the unmistakable warmth surrounding you, dense and as unyielding as brick. 

Your face is roughly yanked upwards and you open your eyes.

“Fuck, finally! Are you alright?” 

You stare blearily, mouth open and dry from the adrenaline that had been pumping through your body just moments ago.

Bright hazel eyes. Huh. So pretty. You'd never noticed. 

You realise you're not supporting your own weight. You're finally aware that Logan has you in an embrace, holding your body up, one hand around your waist and the other on your jaw as he looks into your face. The water on your face isn't from the shower, you realise. It's your tears. 

“Bloody hell, please say something,” he says angrily. You feel some of your own anger flare up in response. What's his problem? 

“Fuck,” you croak. 

You feel his chest vibrate against yours as he laughs, suddenly aware that you're as naked as the day you were born and this man is fully clothed standing in your shower, getting his white singlet wet. Giving you a bear hug…

Your brain short circuits as you try to come up with words, feeling your whole body heat with embarrassment. 

“W-what are you doing in here?” you manage to slur.

“Helping your ass,” he says roughly. “Can you stand?”

Fuck, good question. Can I stand??

“C-close your eyes first,” you demand. 

“Bit late to be feeling shy now don't you think?” he teases with a wink. 

“Just close ‘em!” you yell at him. 

He laughs before complying. 

You extricate yourself from his arms, turning off the shower, then navigate carefully around him to exit the cubicle. You grab a towel and cover yourself, making a mental note to grab a clean one later since this one was definitely dirty now. 

“Okay, open your eyes and get out, please.”

He turns to look at you.

“Don't think that's a good idea, bub.”

“And why is that?” you huff impatiently.

“What if you collapse in the shower again?” he says matter of factly.

“I've been having these things for a long time. I've managed to survive so far so don't stress about it.”

“It's different now though, isn't it? You've been having these for a long time, you said so yourself, and they're only getting worse instead of better.”

You sigh heavily in frustration. You hated that he was right. 

“So what exactly are you suggesting?” 

Your heart was beating like crazy. He better not suggest what you think he was going to suggest.

“I'm sure old Chuckie boy wouldn't mind lending you his shower chair for the night,” he smirked. 

You laughed out loud despite the tension in the room. He always managed to make you laugh. 

“Yeah, I'm just going to wake up an old man in the middle of the night to ask if I can borrow his shower chair,” you joked, lightly slapping him on the shoulder. 

He laughed along with you then you both shared a few moments of comfortable silence. Only for him to break it with-

“My other suggestion is to shower with me so I can make sure you don't faint and hurt yourself.”

You stared at him distrustfully.

“Hey, look, I'm not being a pervert, it's just the only solution I can think of on the fly,” he placates, hands raised as if to say I'm innocent and unarmed. 

“Right…”

You stopped to think for a second, your muddled mind trying to make sense of the situation. 

It made you especially uncomfortable that you didn't exactly have your full mental faculties about you. 

But Logan was a good friend. You'd fought beside him many times before and you saw that you could trust him. But… he was still a man. A man much bigger and stronger than you. 

“Can I trust you?” you asked falteringly. What a stupid idea to ask the opinion of someone fully in power over you. 

“I promise I won't do anything without you wanting it. This is entirely your choice.” 

You looked him in the eyes, trying to find a trace of falsehood in them. But you only saw honeyed eyes, dripping with conviction. The same conviction you'd seen many times before when he was protecting those he loved. 

You felt yourself feel a little calmer. 

“Okay… but you better not break your promise. Or I'll sick Charles and his shower chair on you.” 

“I won't. I just want to keep you safe,” he said in a low, serious voice. 

You felt a fluttering behind your ribs. Fuck… I'm about to shower with this incredibly attractive asshole.

“Okay… you get in first,” you said. 

“Yes, ma'am,” he said a little too cheerily. 

You turned around to give him privacy to undress. You heard the rustle of his clothes then a thump as he dropped them on the floor of your bathroom. 

Should've known he'd be a slob…

You heard the shower turn on and you braced yourself for what was to come next. 

You turned towards the shower, keeping your head down and eyes averted. You removed your towel and stepped into the shower, still not looking at Logan and ignoring his presence, which was hard to do in your little shower. Thankfully he was turned away respectfully.

You stood behind him, turned away from his body. You took your soap and began to lather it over yourself as you usually did when you showered. 

“Would you like a hand with your back?” Logan spoke up. 

You paused as you weighed up the question in your mind. 

“Sure,” you said quietly, trying to keep yourself calm. 

This is totally normal. We're just friends having a shower. Together. 

You turned your back and heard him applying soap to his hands. Slowly, gently, as if you were made of glass, he began to rub your back, starting with your shoulders. You felt yourself give an involuntary shiver.

“Are you cold? Do you need the water a bit hotter?” he asked you. 

“No, it's fine. The temperature is okay with you?” 

“Yeah, bub, just perfect.” 

His hands felt massive against your back. He massaged your neck for a few seconds before moving down your shoulder blades towards your middle back. 

“Did-did you want me to do your back too?” you asked, trying to hide how nervous you were. 

“Since you're offering, sure,” he said gruffly. You turned towards him at the same moment he turned away from you, unfortunately catching a glimpse of his insane fucking abs, but thankfully managing not to make eye contact. 

You soaped up your hands and began with his neck, trying not to notice how thick and muscular his traps were. 

God… this is hell but also heaven. 

You ran your hands across his ridiculously broad shoulders and down his middle back, avoiding going too low lest you caress his stupid, tight ass. 

“I'm going to wash my hair, okay?” you told him, unsure of why you were asking permission. 

“Don't know why you're asking my permission.” Fuck. You were being weird. “But I can do the same right?” he responded, holding in laughter. 

You felt your face go hot.

“D-do what you want,” you said petulantly. 

You took the shampoo bottle, squeezing what you needed for yourself before handing it to him over his shoulder, which he thankfully kept turned to you in respect. 

You both washed your hair in silence. You already felt a bit better. You dreamily thought of your bed as you rinsed the shampoo from your hair. 

You then grabbed the conditioner and squeezed some into your hand. 

“Need the conditioner?” you asked Logan.

“What for?” he asked, confused. 

“For your hair, duh.”

“Nah, I'm good. Haven't had to use it so far in my life, won't start now. Need a hand with washing your hair?” 

You knew he was trying to be helpful. But it felt so, so wrong. Like overstepping your relationship as friends. But then again… would you ever get the chance again to have an incredibly sexy man wash your hair for you? 

“Sure,” you said stiffly.

Silence, then his hand moved around you to grab the bottle from you. 

“Ah-” you already had some conditioner in your hand. You were about to tell him but decided to keep quiet as he worked on your hair. 

His fingers… so thick and strong yet gentle through your hair, over your scalp. You couldn't help but to close your eyes and enjoy the sensation. 

It was over too soon and he stepped away from you again. You tipped your head to rinse your hair, giving your face a quick scrub with water while you were at it; fuck your skin routine, you were going straight to bed. 

“I'm going to step out first,” you informed him. 

He grunted in reply and you stepped from the shower, grabbing two clean towels from your bathroom cupboard. You covered yourself with one and half turned your body to Logan, gaze still averted from his direction. 

“Here ya go,” you tried to say cheerily, offering the towel to him.  

“Thanks,” he said and grabbed it from your hand. You quickly moved to the door. 

“Wait until I say you can come in,” you said before closing the door behind you. 

Fuuuuucccckkkkk.

This was not helping you to relax at all.

You dried yourself quickly and threw your pyjamas on. 

“I'm done!” you called through the door. 

He stepped out with his towel wrapped around his stupid, slutty waist. You could see his happy trail adorning his abs. His enormous pecs, his dog tags resting in the dip of his gorgeous chest. 

“Hey, bub, my eyes are up here,” he teases. 

You swallow thickly and glare at his stupid, smirking face.

“Have I ever told you I hate you?” you retort, only succeeding in making him laugh. 

“How are you feeling now?” he says softly, suddenly serious. 

“I'm… exhausted. I usually sleep a lot after an episode.” 

He nods in understanding. 

“You'll be okay if I leave?”

This gives you pause. If you were being honest to yourself, you'd say, “Please stay. I don't want to be alone tonight.” 

But you weren't honest with yourself. 

“Thanks for looking out for me, Logan. I really appreciate it and sorry for putting you out. I'll be okay. You can go to bed now if you want.” 

He looked at you in silence. He stepped towards you, so close that you had to look up to keep eye contact. You could feel the warmth radiating from him. Fuck he runs hot. 

“You mean it, right? You're okay to be alone?” 

You stared at him, a little bit dumbfounded. Was he able to read minds or something? 

“Yes, I'll be fine. I'll be in bed so I can't exactly fall,” you chuckled. 

He didn't laugh with you. Only watched you carefully. 

“Okay. I'll respect what you say you want,” he says carefully. 

Again, this is so out of character for him that you second guess yourself whether you're in reality or not. 

You watch as he turns to the bathroom and grabs his clothes from the floor then goes towards the door to the hall. 

“Hey-w-wait-y-you're not going out like that are you?” you stutter in disbelief.

He turns back to you. 

“What else am I going to do?” he asks incredulously. 

Clueless.

“Put your clothes back on,” you retort.

“Ew, you're a bit of a slob, aren't you? They're dirty and covered with blood and who knows what or who else.”

You deadpanned. 

“What if… what if you stayed here for the night?” you blurted out without thinking. You flinch at your own words.

Logan pauses with his hand on the door knob. 

“I don't exactly have my pyjamas here with me,” he says slowly. 

“I've already seen and touched you naked. What's the difference?” you hear yourself say.

What the fuck am I saying?

“I-I mean, surely I have something that can fit you,” you amend quickly. His face seems to go slack in surprise.

“Wow. You really want it, huh?” he smirks at you. 

You ignore the heat that overtakes your whole body. 

“N-never mind! Fuck off already,” you say sourly. 

“Hey, I'm just joking,” he laughs. “I can definitely stay if it helps you feel better.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself melt a little bit. 

“It… it would. Help me feel better, I mean.” 

Having him near you would help remind you that this is real, you justify. 

“Alright then,” he nods to you. “Some clothes would be great.” 

“Ah, sure, give me a second.” 

You quickly go to your wardrobe to locate the loosest pair of pants you own. He'll just have to sleep shirtless, there's no way you have a top that will fit over his broad shoulders. 

You find a dark grey pair of trackies and turn back to him. 

“Try these.”

“Thanks,” he says as he takes it from your hand.

As he moves back to the bathroom you jump into bed to wait. Your bed never felt so fucking good. 

You've barely settled under the covers when Logan reappears from the bathroom, his hair still wet and dripping down his neck. You do your best not to stare. 

He moves towards you and lifts the covers to slip into bed with you. 

This is just a sleepover, you tell yourself. Like when you have a friend over for the night.

Logan slots himself into your bed alongside you and you become suddenly aware of how small your double bed is. The frame creaks loudly from the weight of him and his Adamantium bones. 

“Comfy?” you ask.

He turns in the bed so he's facing you. A smile slowly makes its way to his face and you find you can't breathe for a second. 

“Yeah, definitely,” he murmurs. 

“Alright, sweet, g’night then,” you say quickly, turning away from him to still your beating heart. Fuck, I hope he can't hear my heart right now.

“Are you sure you're ready to sleep? Your heart is beating pretty fast,” he points out cooly. 

Mother fucker.

“So… you have heightened senses right? Kind of.. like a dog?” I'm not thinking straight, why am I trying to piss him off? 

“Thought you were going to sleep,” he grunted. The sound of his gravelly voice did something to you. But you ignored it. 

“It just kind of reminds me of those service dogs, y'know the ones that can sense when their owner is going to have a seizure? I mean, I know I don't have seizures exactly, but I guess it presents sort of like one.”

“What are you trying to say?” he asks gruffly. He doesn't like it when people compare him to dogs. You're just grateful you can't see the look on his face right now. 

“I'm just wondering how you can tell? What is it exactly that you're sensing? It's always interested me,” you say honestly. 

He grunts again and goes quiet before answering.

“I can smell it. Can't even explain what it actually smells like. But that's how I know, although it isn't always accurate.”

“That's really interesting.” And you mean it. It really is interesting… although the implications concerning his sense of smell have you a little bit paranoid… 

“So that's why I'm telling you to listen to me when I fucking tell you to stop with your powers. You could've killed yourself tonight,” he grinds out, anger in his voice. 

“Logan… you need to understand where I'm coming from. You all died tonight. Like literally, right before my very eyes, you were all dead. What do you expect me to do?” 

You feel tears pricking your eyes, the lump in your throat is choking you.

“I… I can't talk about this right now okay?” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“Okay… okay, I'm sorry,” his voice softens. “Please, just get some sleep, okay? Guide dog’s orders.”

And just like that you're laughing again, feeling a tear running down your cheek to your pillow. You were so grateful to have him in your life. You were also grateful he couldn't see you crying right now. 

“Alright, g'night, puppy,” you tease.

“‘Night,” he says softly. 

A minute passes and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. You smile to yourself, knowing that you have your own personal “service animal” to keep you safe tonight.

[copperbadge]

Hey Sam! Since it's currently AO3 donation time, I'm wondering what your thoughts are on it? I'm asking because you've written RPF and it's one of many "anti-AO3/anti-AO3 donations" people's favourite things to bring up when they're complaining about AO3 getting so many donations that it continuously obtains an excess of its donation goal whenever donation time rolls around? (Wow, how many times can I say "donation" in an ask?) Sorry if this question bothers you! I don't mean to offend or annoy.

Hey anon! Sorry it took a while to get to this, I don't even know if the drive is still going on, but the question came in while I was traveling and I didn't really have the time for stuff that wasn't travel-related. In any case, let's dig in! (I am not offended, no worries.)

So really there are two issues here and as much as some people who are critical of AO3 want to conflate them, they are different. While some criticism of AO3 may be valid, rhetoric against AO3 tends to misinterpret both in separate ways.

First there's the issue of what AO3 hosts -- RPF, yes, but more broadly, varied content that some people find distasteful or think should be illegal, which is a misunderstanding of the purpose of the archive and more broadly a dangerous attitude towards the concept of freedom of expression.

Second, there's the issue of AO3 generally outpacing its fundraising goals while not allowing monetization, which is a misunderstanding of the legal status of AO3 and to an extent a misunderstanding of philanthropy as a whole.

The longer I watch debates about content go on, the more I come to the conclusion that I was fortunate to have a teacher who really wanted to instill in us an understanding of free speech not as a policy but as an ongoing dialogue. It's not only that freedom of expression "protects you from the government, not the Justin" as the meme goes, but also that freedom of expression is not a static thing. It's an ongoing process of identifying what we find harmful in society and what we want to do about it.

Should the freedom to shout "Fire!" in a crowded theater be restricted? Should the freedom to yell slurs at drag performers? Should the freedom to teach prepubescent kids about gender, sexuality, and/or safe sex? Should the freedom to wear a leather puppy hood at Pride? Who gets to say, and why?

I was nine when my teacher did a unit on freedom of speech and the intersection of "harm prevention" and "censorship", which is (and should be) a discussion, not a set of ironclad rules. This ambiguity has thus been with me for over thirty years, and I'm comfortable with the ambiguity, with the process; I'm not sure a lot of people critical of AO3's content truly are. Perhaps some can't be, especially those affected by hate speech, but RPF is not hate speech. It's just fiction. Or is fiction "just fiction"? This is a question society as a whole is grappling with, although fandom seems to be a little out ahead of society in terms of how explicitly we discuss it.

The idea that prose can incite violence or cause harm is both valid to examine (witness the rise of fascism on the radio in the 20s, on Facebook and Twitter in the past ten years; they're very similar processes) and a very slippery slope. Because again: who decides what harm is, and what causes it, and what we do about it? Our values align us with certain beliefs, but those are only our values, not universal truths. So AO3 is part of the ongoing question of harm and benefit both to society and individuals.

AO3 itself, however, has a fairly defined policy that it is not meant to police content; it is an archive, not a bookstore or a school board. AO3 refines its TOS and policies as necessary, but the goal is always open access and as much freedom of expression as possible, and if that's uncomfortable for some people then that's a discussion we have to have; ignoring it won't make it go away. But it has to be a discussion, it can't be a unilateral change to the archive's TOS or a series of snaps and clapbacks, and I don't see a lot of people ready to move beyond flinging insults. Perhaps because they were taught a much more binary view of freedom of expression than I was.

So, self-evidently, I support AO3 and I don't have a problem with RPF. Whether other people do is something we're going to have to get to grips with, and that's likely to be a process that is still going on when most of us are dust. I'd rather have a century of ambiguity than a wrong answer tomorrow, anyway.

But whether AO3 hosts RPF is truly a separate issue from its donation drives, because it's a criticism some people level at the site which exists whether it's fundraising or not. So people can criticize AO3's open policy and they can give it as a reason not to support the site, but it's just one aspect of the archive and the fundraising as a whole should be examined separately.

I think AO3's fundraisers are deeply misunderstood (sometimes on purpose) because even people who are anticapitalist get a little crazy when money gets involved, and this is, to fandom, a lot of money -- a few hundred thousand, reliably, every fundraiser. To me, a fundraiser that pulls in three hundred grand is almost quaint; my current nonprofit pulls in better than ten million a year and my previous employer had an endowment of several billion dollars. At my old job I didn't even bother researching people who couldn't give us a hundred grand.

On the other hand, AO3 is an extreme and astounding outlier in the nonprofit world, because basically it's the only one of its kind to work the way it does. It is entirely volunteer-run on the operational side (ie: tag wranglers, coders, lawyers, etc) and has no fundraising staff (gift officers, researchers, outreach officers) as far as I'm aware. To pull in three hundred grand from individual one-time donations, without any paid staff and without even a volunteer fundraising officer? That's insane. That doesn't happen. Except at AO3.

What people misunderstand, however, is the basic status of a nonprofit, which is a legal status, not simply a social one. (I'm adding in some corrections here since it gets complicated and the terminology can be important!) The Organization for Transformative Works, the parent of AO3, is a nonprofit, which indicates how it was incorporated as an organization; additionally it is registered federally as tax-exempt, which carries certain perks, like not paying sales tax, and certain duties, like making their financials transparent to a certain extent. (Religious nonprofits are exempt from the transparency requirement.) If you're interested in more about nonprofits and tax-exempt status a reader dropped a great article here.

Nonprofits, unlike for-profit companies, cannot pay a share of their income to stakeholders. Nonprofits don't have financial stakeholders, only donors. They can have employees and pay them a salary -- that's me, for example -- but if a nonprofit pulls in $10M in donations, my salary is paid from that, I don't get a percentage and nobody else does either. That's what it means to be a nonprofit -- the money above operational costs goes back into the organization. The donations we (and AO3) receive must be plowed under and used for outreach, server maintenance, further fundraising, services expansion, et cetera. You can see this in the 990 forms on Guidestar or ProPublica, or in their more accessible breakdowns on Charity Navigator. Nonprofits that do not put the majority of their income towards service provision tend to get audited and lose their nonprofit status. So nobody's getting paid from all that money, and the overage that isn't spent goes into what is basically a savings account in the name of the nonprofit. (I'm vastly simplifying but that's the gist.) Using that money for personal purposes is illegal. It's called "private inurement" and there's a good article here about it. The money belongs to the OTW as a concept, not to anyone in or of the OTW.

So the biggest misunderstanding that I see in people who are mad at AO3 fundraisers is that "they" are getting all this money (who "they" are is never clearly stated but I'm pretty sure people think @astolat has a special wifi router that runs on burning hundred dollar bills) while "we" can't monetize our fanfic. But "they" get nothing -- nobody even earns a salary from AO3 -- and you can easily prove that by looking at the 990 forms they file with the government, which are required to be made public. You can see the most recently available 990, from 2020, here at Guidestar. Page seven will show you the "highest compensated" employees, all of whom are earning zero dollars or nonmonetary perks (that's the three columns on the right).

Either AO3 is entirely volunteer-run or someone's Doing A Real Fraud. The money the OTW spends is documented (that's page 10 and 11 primarily) and while they may pay for, say, the travel and lodging expenses of a lawyer going to DC to defend a freedom-of-expression case, they don't pay the lawyer for their time, or give them a cut of the income.

Despite what you've read, the reason "we" can't monetize our fanfics on AO3 has nothing to do with the site being the product of volunteer handiwork or AO3 having it in their terms of service or it being considered gauche by some to do so; it's because

IT'S ILLEGAL.

I cannot say this loudly enough: It is against the law for a nonprofit to be used by its staff, volunteers, or beneficiaries to earn direct profit from the services provided by the nonprofit.

You can be paid to work at one, but you cannot side-hustle by selling your handmade friendship bracelets for personal gain on the nonprofit's website. If the nonprofit knowingly allows monetization of its services, it can lose nonprofit status, be fined, be hit with back taxes, and a lot of other unpleasant bullshit can go down, including prosecution of those involved for fraud. If you put a ko-fi link on your fanfic, you are breaking the law, and if AO3 allows it, they are too.

Okay, that was a sidebar, but in some ways not, because it gets to the heart of the real complaints about AO3 fundraising, which is that people in fandom are sick or unhoused or in some form of need and other people in fandom are giving to AO3, a fan site that is financially stable, instead of giving to peoples' gofundmes or dropping money in their Ko-Fi or Paypal. And while it is a legitimate grievance that there are people who are in such desperate need while we live in an era of unprecedented abundance, that's not AO3's fault. AO3 doesn't solicit actively, there's no unasked-for mailings or calls from a gift officer. They just put a banner up on their website, and people give. (Again, this is incredibly outlier behavior in the nonprofit world, I'd do a case study on it but the conclusion would just be "shit's real, yo.") You might as well be mad that people give to their local food bank instead of someone's ko-fi.

You cannot lay at AO3's feet the fact that people want to give to AO3 instead of to your fundraiser. That's a choice individuals have made, and while you can engage with them in terms of why they made the philanthropic choices they did, to blame an organization they supported rather than the person who made the choice to give is not only incorrect but futile, and unlikely to win anyone over to supporting you. We know from research that guilt is not a tremendous motivator of philanthropy.

It is also not necessarily a binary choice; just because AO3 gets a hundred grand in $5 donations doesn't mean most of the people giving don't also give $5 elsewhere. I support the OTW on occasion, and I also fundraise for UNICEF and the Chicago Parks Foundation and BAGLY and others, in addition to giving monthly to several nonprofits that I have longterm relationships with -- my alma mater, the animal rescue where I got the Cryptids, my shul. And I give, occasionally and anonymously, to fundraisers that pass through Radio Free Monday, which are mainly individuals in need, because I was once in need and now I pay it forward. These are the choices I have made. Nobody twisted my arm. I respond poorly to someone making the attempt to do so by attacking places I've given.

I think the upshot is, after all of this that I've written, that we cannot begin to come to grips with questions of institutional inequality in philanthropy, or freedom of expression and censorship, until people actually understand what's going on, and too few do. So all I can do is try and explain, and hopefully create a forum for people to learn and grow when it comes to charitable giving.

Archive Of Our Own and the Organization for Transformative Works are products of our community and as that community changes, we will necessarily continue to re-evaluate what aspects of it mean and how AO3/OTW express the community sentiment. I hope that the ongoing discussion of support for AO3 also leads to people learning more about their philanthropic options. But criticizing AO3 for fundraising by attacking it for fulfilling one of its stated purposes is silly, and attempting to guilt people into giving in the ways one thinks they should give rather than how they do give is just going to make one extremely unlikable.

As members of this community, we have to be a part of the push and pull, but it's difficult to do that competently in ignorance. So, I do my best to be knowledgeable and to educate my readers, and I hope others will do the same.

[blue-jisungs]

okay so tae + blanket and I was thinking abt how he slept in an extra hour in the new to do x txt spinoff and then even when he woke up he just sat there for a few mins slowly blinking his eyes open RKJFKSS HES SO CUTE anyway him being clingy in the morning and not wanting to get out of bed :((

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ LAZY DAYS OFF🧸ྀི — sleepy taehyunnie <3 ( wc 585 )

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! HIYA ZANNIE ! sorry its so short :( but i hope u like this:(( i also strayed off a lil but but sleepy cozy fluffy tae:((((((((((((((( what if i just cry.

@kstrucknet

the bed is warm and fluffy, like a softest cloud. 

with a quiet groan your fingers look for the edge of the blanket and you pull it over your shoulders, not wanting any warmth to escape. 

this sheer feeling of comfort is enough to lull you back into sleep. 

suddenly, there’s an extra weight on you. not too strong, yet it was enough to crack your eye open.

in an instant you were met with an adorable sight: taehyun’s face squished onto your shoulder, his cheeks puffed slightly. it was his arm that you felt - he threw it across your waist, as if holding a plushie. his dark brown hair was shuffled from all the moving in his sleep, locks long enough to cover his closed eyes. 

despite the cold temperature outside and snow blazing, the warm sunlight peeks through the window, leaving a morning glow on his face. 

you can’t control the way your hand travelled to cup his cheek, causing his lips to pout from the subtle squishing. you just grinned and stared at taehyun’s sleeping face. 

your heart was at ease, seeing him like that. knowing that he’s resting – safely and next to you. it did feel a little strange to have him besides you while waking up, only because you were so used to the hastle and bustle of his busy life. 

you felt his fingers brushing against your side, drawing a giggle from you. 

“what’s so funny…” taehyun mumbled, not caring to open his eyes just yet. 

“you tickled me” you hummed and felt his lips forming into a mischievous smirk under your palm. “don’t even think about it” 

taehyun just fixed his hold and now his fingers wrapped around your side fully, pulling you closer. not knowing from where, his other hand came and landed at the back of your head. now you were fully nuzzled into his chest, your hair tickling his chin. 

“you’re just like a personal teddy bear, you know?” he murmured, voice a bit raspy from slumber. you just scoffed and fixed the blanket, closing your eyes.

“i figured” 

taehyun peeked an eye open and frowned. 

“wait, actually, i don’t like this position…” he sighed and shuffled again, dragging you along. 

“but i was getting cozy…” you whined when for a moment the covers slipped off. the coldness of the room made you shiver dramatically. 

“here we go” he purred with satisfaction, like a cat receiving chin scratches. 

now you were laying on his chest, his hands still glued to you. 

“i can see you a little better. that was what i needed, really” he hummed and brought the blanket over to your neck. 

you sighed softly, turning to his side and wrapping your hand around his torso. throwing your leg on his, you nuzzled even closer. not a single space between your bodies.

“i wish we could stay like this forever” he slurred sleepily and you weren’t sure if he’s not gonna drift away again any second now. 

“who said we have to get up?” you asked quietly. 

taehyun stayed silent, his fingers that were drawing circles on your side slowly stopping. 

“for a moment i forgot i have a day off” he finally answered, a cute giggle leaving his lips. the gesture made his chest shake, leaving you smiling. 

“wake me up when you wake up” you just hummed, fully embracing the coziness of his warmth and layers of blankets. 

“see you in my dreams” taehyun whispered before falling into slumber once again.

m.list <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @mirxzii ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura

 @nicholasluvbot ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @ocean-minho ,, 

@eternalgyu ,, @haecien ,, @nonononranghaee

[sweet3nerrr]

hold it

sucking billie off

ik i said ill post like 4 days ago HAHA BUT HEREE

——-

“you feel that?”, billie groans as you grind on her lap, the bulge in her jeans rubbing against your clit. your hands laced in her hair, hips rocking slowly against her. she bit into your shoulder, causing a pained moan to fill the room. her hands ran along your figure, scratching at every thrust into her.

“mhm bils”, you whimper, eyes shut tight. her grip on your hips intensified as you rubbed her in all the right places. “i want you to suck it”, she slurred as she kissed you hard, tongues dancing against one another. you pulled away slightly taken aback, excitement bleeding across your lips. you tried to hide how turned on that just made you but, the hunger clouding her eyes had you weak.

“oh yeah?”, you teased brining her hand up to your tits. “yeah pretty girl, think you can take me?”. you got off her lap, running your hands down her body as you got to your knees. “fuck, you look so good looking up at me”, she groans as you spread her legs. reaching for her belt, she slaps your hand away. “uh uh, through the zip, come on now”. you slowly unzip her fly, stroking her strap over the fabric of her jeans. you glance up, seeing the filthiest look on her face, like a starved lion hunting its prey. god she’s so fucking hot.

as you pulled her dick out her trousers, she cocked her hips up letting the tip hit your lips. “open”, she says holding it. her rings wrapped around the length as she traced the outline of your lips before grabbing the back of your head, making you take her into your mouth. “god, fuck”, she whined as your head went up and down on her, gagging every time it went too far.

billie was crazy for you like this, on your knees sucking her off. she loved ruining you, making you take every fucking inch. nothing made her as insane as using you how she wants.

“you’re so good at that, taking my cock”, she threw her head back, bucking her hips into you. you were struggling already and she wasn’t even half way in. her grip in your hair got tighter as she began pushing your head down forcefully. “you can swallow me deeper, be a good girl for me and choke on my cock sweetheart”.

she knew what she did to you, she knew how badly you wanted to please her. you relaxed your throat, letting her shove deeper inside you. “f-fuck yeah just like that oh my god”, she groaned fixing her eyes on you. god how she loved seeing you like this, making you her bitch. a loud gag echoed out of you causing a starved smile to flash across her face. she loved it. “what was that? deeper?”, she teased now thrusting harshly. her movements made her hit the back of your throat, daring to snake further.

billie felt your throat with her free hand, trying to see how far in she was. “open up for me sweet girl”, her teeth gritted together as she began shoving harder. tears were blurring your vision as she fucked into your throat, running streams down your burning cheeks.

“i’m close babe”, she whined cocking wildy and holding your head down. you were struggling to breathe, gagging and choking at every buck of her hips. “look at me whilst you suck my cock”, her tone desperate as she filled your throat. you did. you could make out the snarl on her lips through tears and that was all she needed to break. “ffuckkk, take me, j-just like-“, her words broken as she came shaking.

she stayed inside you momentarily before slowly pulling her cock out your mouth. “you did so fucking good pretty girl, i wish i could cum down your throat”, she ached as she pulled you up to kiss her. you looked down to see the wet marks she left on her jeans from her cum. god, she really drove you crazy.